by L. G. Davis
“Where are you, Clark?” My voice is shrill as I yell for my son.
I can’t waste time. I need to find him before he gets far. Every second feels like an hour.
A pall of dread hangs over me as I frantically search the grounds around the motel.
What if Cole took him? What if Clark did not walk out on his own, and instead Cole showed up while I was crying in the bathroom and took him away?
Left with no other choice but to ask for help, I bolt to the reception area. The same man who had given us the keys when we arrived is still there, still bored.
The place smells of burnt coffee and sweat.
He looks up from his newspaper and gives a low grunt. “What do you want?” he asks, as if I’m being a nuisance even though I’m a guest.
“My son is missing.”
He drags a hand through his greasy hair. “And what does that have to do with me? I’m not his babysitter.”
“Yes, yes, I know.” I was the one who was supposed to look out for Clark, and my guilt is heavy in my chest. If I don’t find him, I’ll never forgive myself. “Please help me find him.”
“Sorry, I can’t help you there.” He looks back to his paper. “I’m busy.”
“You’re reading a newspaper.” The bite in my tone takes both of us by surprise.
“Lady, your son is not my responsibility. He’s probably hiding. Kids do silly things like that. That’s why I never wanted any.”
He’s right. It’s not his fault that Clark is missing. “Please help me,” I beg. “I searched everywhere.”
He lowers his newspaper again and raises his eyebrow. “Everywhere?”
He has a point. I haven’t searched everywhere—just around the motel and the parking lot. There’s still a large part of town I have not explored. Surely, Clark wouldn’t be too far from the motel. I had been in the bathroom for no longer than a few minutes. There’s no way he can be far.
Determined to find him, I run back to my room and grab my car keys. I drive around the area. This time of evening, there are only a handful of people on the street and none of them is my son.
I should never have left his side. I thought he would be occupied with his toys for a while. Until now, I have resisted the urge to cry because it would make things too real. Now I can’t hold back. The tears come, flowing hard and hot down my cheeks.
I’m tempted to go all the way into the center of town, but I’m still afraid to get too far in case Clark is wandering near the motel. Maybe he just went out for a walk and couldn’t find his way back. It feels like I’m stuck in a nightmare.
If someone finds him, they might alert the cops, which would be both a relief and a nightmare, because if they find out who I am, I might never get Clark back. Who would give a child to someone who is considered to be a murderer?
Every boy I see during my drive looks like my son, but Clark is nowhere to be seen. The people I ask haven’t seen a little boy walking around on his own. They simply shake their heads and continue on with their lives while mine is at a standstill.
I drive around in circles for a while, then I drive back to the motel to check if he has somehow shown up. I left the door open just in case.
Apart from a taxi parked in the lot, with no driver inside, nothing has changed in the area and Clark is still not in our room. I go around knocking on doors.
The only people who open their door is a thirty-something-year-old Asian woman and a teenage girl who looks like she could be her daughter.
They don’t have the good news I’m desperate for. They haven’t seen him, and I’m starting to worry that he didn’t actually go off on his own, but someone took him.
“Are you sure he’s not in your room?” the woman asks when I start crying again.
“No, he’s not.” I bury my hands in my hair. “I can’t find him.”
“Has he done something like this before? I mean...run off on his own?”
“No.” I shake my head. “Never.”
“Then you have to call the police,” the woman says. “They will find him.”
“I don’t know,” I say. Can I really call the cops? For months, I have been doing everything to stay away from them. Now I might have to go to them because I have no other choice. If I don’t ask them for help and something happens to Clark, I would never forgive myself.
The woman and her daughter are kind enough to help me look around the perimeter of the motel again with no success. They apologize for not being able to help me and return to their room.
The sun is starting to set and Clark is still out there.
The woman was right, I need to get the police involved. If I end up going to prison, so be it. At least I won’t have to worry about them giving him to Cole since he will eventually end up in prison as well.
I return to my room to get my phone, but it’s not on the bedside table where I left it before I went searching for Clark.
My body stiffens in horror at the realization that someone might have been inside the room.
Cole.
I may not be able to see him, but I would recognize his expensive cologne anywhere. Mixed with the faint scent of cigars, it’s lingering in the air, taunting my nostrils.
The toxins of hate and terror blaze through my veins as I run back to reception to ask if I can use the phone. Now that I’m certain Cole is involved, I will call the cops for sure.
The bored man is no longer behind the reception desk.
I’m about to leave when he walks in from outside, eating a burger. Ketchup is dripping onto his chin and clinging to his beard.
“You again,” he says, chewing. When he raises the burger to his mouth again, I notice his expensive Rolex glinting in the light.
“I need to call the police. Please, can I use your phone? I can’t find mine.”
He shakes his head. “It’s not working.”
He’s lying. He doesn’t want to help me and I don’t understand why. A child is missing and he doesn’t seem to care at all.
“I’m begging you. My son is still missing. I need to call the police. Someone took him.”
“Ma’am, as I said, my phone is not working.” He pushes the nail of his pinkie between his two front teeth to remove whatever is stuck there. He continues to eat his burger as he disappears through a door behind the reception desk.
I scan the surface for the phone, but I can’t see it. Maybe he was telling the truth.
I charge back outside. I will ask the Asian woman and her daughter. They will help me.
My skin is hot, my hands clammy, my feet feeling too heavy. The faster I walk, the more I feel like I’m slowing down.
To my disappointment, I spot a car pulling out of the parking lot. It’s the people I wanted to ask for help. I run after the car, but it has already turned into the main road.
The room next to ours has the light on. I go slam my fists against it. Sweat is pouring into my eyes, mixing with my tears.
“Come in,” a man calls from the other side. Relieved, I push down the door handle.
When the door swings open, I reel back in shock.
“Mommy.” Clark looks up and our eyes meet. “Look, grandpa came to visit us.”
I wish it weren’t true, but it is. Clark is on the couch, sitting next to my worst nightmare.
“Surprised to see me?” Cole raises an eyebrow, his face twisting into a grin.
35
He’s sitting there with a saintly expression, like someone who isn’t rotting with evil. He’s even wearing one of his designer suits. You’d think he’s about to attend a meeting, not on the run from the law.
“Let him go.” I choke out the words, and my body shakes so much my teeth are chattering. I have never been more terrified of anyone in my life or so overcome with the kind of hate that rips you apart and does nothing to hurt its object.
My gut had told me that he was responsible for Clark’s disappearance, but I was hoping it was wrong.
He tightens his arms around Clar
k and sneers at me.
My eyes grow hot with rage, especially when I take in the pale watch-shaped mark circling his wrist. It all makes sense. The reason the motel receptionist wouldn’t help me was because Cole got to him first. He paid him with his own Rolex.
“After all this time, no hello?” he asks. “I’m quite disappointed, Meghan. Or is it Zoe now?”
“Let go of my son.” I ball my hands into fists. “Clark, baby, come to Mommy.” I unfurl my fingers and stretch out my arms for him to run into.
Clark shakes his head and leans into Cole. “I want to stay with grandpa. We had fun. Grandpa bought me ice cream. We left you some in the fridge, Mommy.”
I notice two things at once, that there really is a mini fridge in this room, and that Clark is playing with an expensive-looking black and gold toy plane.
My mind fills in the blanks. All the hours I spent wondering how far Cole had gotten, he was right next door to us with only a wall between.
He’s the person who played my wedding song next door when we first arrived. He probably heard the shower running when I turned it on to drown out my sobs and came to lure Clark away with the toy. He must have seen him sitting alone through the sheer curtains.
Of course, Clark opened the door. Cole is not a stranger, but someone he trusts, his family. Those we trust are often the most dangerous.
Even if the chain lock were secure in place, it would have been easy for Cole to slip his hand through the crack in the door to lift the chain out of its metal casing. Or maybe the motel receptionist helped him.
Cole raises one of his hands and runs it over my son’s hair. “I missed you, my boy,” he says to Clark.
“Cole, please, don’t do this.” I’m seething with rage, but I have to control my temper for Clark’s sake.
His gaze still on me, he gets to his feet and reaches into his pocket for a phone, my phone. He hands it to Clark. “Go and play a game in the bathroom. Your Mommy and I need to speak about something important.” He ruffles his hair. “Go on, boy. Don’t come out until I tell you to, then soon I’ll let you fly on a real airplane.”
The bathroom is the only other room in the motel rooms, the only opportunity to escape from the bedroom.
“Really? Yay!” Clark’s eyes light up as he beams up at Cole. Then he does as he’s told.
As soon as the door closes, I rush to it and plant myself in front. I’m trying to protect Clark, but I don’t know if I’ll succeed. “What do you want from me?” I whisper furiously. “Why don’t you leave us alone?”
Cole strokes his stubble. “You know exactly what I want from you, black widow.”
“I didn’t.” I lower my voice. “I didn’t kill my husband and you know it. We both know you did, and you tried to frame me.”
Cole guffaws, then lowers himself into the couch again. He’s so relaxed, as if he’s in no hurry at all, not like someone who’s wanted by the cops.
“That’s the story you’ve been telling yourself all these months?”
“It’s the truth. You’re evil. You’re not only a murderer. You… all those things... I know what you did to all those women, you disgusting pig. You did to them what you did to me.”
“Oh, I remember that night.” He narrows his eyes. “Why didn’t you tell Brett the truth, that I owned you before he did?”
I clench my fists. I want to lunge for him, to claw out his eyes, to leave my mark of revenge. He knows very well why I didn’t. He knows I wanted to. Torturing me is his favorite game.
“Please, Cole. Leave us in peace. I won’t… I won’t tell anyone you were here.”
“You think it’s that simple?” He shakes his head, plants his hands on his thighs and pushes to his full height. “I’ve been waiting for this moment for so long. You know what? For a while there, I thought of letting you be, allowing you to spend the rest of your pathetic life looking over your shoulder. But I changed my mind. Life’s too short not to have a little fun, wouldn’t you say? I needed to find you, to finish what I started. I wanted to destroy you.” He shoves his hands into his pockets. “Plus, you took Liam away from me.”
I press my back against the bathroom door. “You’ll never do to him what you did to Brett.” I inhale sharply. “I won’t let you.”
“I won’t allow you to keep him from me, Meghan. Wherever you go, I’ll be right behind you. I’ll be forever your shadow.” He chuckles. “It was quite entertaining getting calls from so many people who claimed to have seen you. They all wanted the $20,000. As I had expected, most of them ignored the cops and came straight to me asking for a higher reward. Many were liars, except one honest man, who told me about the old woman who was letting you stay in her cabin.”
Sheer terror sweeps through me.
“You did it.” I choke back a cry. “You...you…”
“I’ve done a lot of things, Meghan. Which one are you talking about?”
“You killed her. You killed Mrs. Foster.”
“That was her name? I had no idea.”
He’s not admitting to the crime, but he may as well have. It’s written all over his face. His murderous smile tells me everything I need to know. He has committed so many evil deeds that I don’t know which of them is the worst.
“How could you?” My voice is low and tortured. “How could you kill an innocent woman?”
“It wasn’t me who killed her. It was you, Meghan. You came into her life. If you had stayed away, if she had not helped you, she would probably still be alive. But then again, she was a weak and frail old woman. She was going to die anyway.”
“No.” I try to keep standing, but my legs give way. I can’t stop myself from sinking to the floor.
He’s right. I knew from the start that allowing Mrs. Foster to help me was putting her in danger. But I was desperate.
“The worst thing is that you cut me out of the boy’s life and allowed a stranger to look after him.”
My mouth opens, then closes. My throat is too tight to let any words out.
“I knew everything, Meghan. I had someone keeping an eye on you.” His mouth twists into a grin. “Don’t look so surprised. I warned you that I would find you.”
“Who?” The word comes out like a bullet. It has to be Ronan who tipped him off. I knew from the start that he would be my downfall.
Cole runs a hand through his thick hair. “That cop you’ve been seeing around, he’s one of my men.” He rubs his hands together. “We actually didn’t know each other until he called for his reward. It’s always a good idea to have several cops on one’s side, and usually a lot of money does the trick. I offered him more if he kept an eye on you for me and carried out other chores, like leaving that squirrel at your doorstep. Watching you scrub away the blood was incredibly satisfying.”
I gape at him, speechless. Roland is a crooked cop? And here I was thinking he was interested in me. No wonder I felt so uncomfortable around him. I thought it had to do with the simple reason that he was a cop.
“I don’t blame him for coming to me. He had gambling debts and child support to pay, and he wasn’t paid enough for his service.”
“What do you want from me?” I croak.
Behind me, on the other side, a tiny voice makes itself known through the thin door. “Can I come out now?” Clark calls.
“Not yet, my boy.” Cole smiles at me. “Very soon.”
“Okay,” Clark squeals with delight. “Then we can go flying?”
“Yes, then we’ll go on a fun adventure. We’ll also go fishing and I’ll teach you to hunt at my cabin.”
His words make me want to throw up. Once a month, he and Brett went hunting at his cabin in a small village near Fort Lake. Brett hated going, but he never said no. When Clark was two, he took us with him. When Cole saw that Brett had brought the two of us along, he exploded with anger and left. We ended up spending the weekend at the cabin, just the three of us. We fished, we went for walks in the small town, and bought fresh fruits and vegetables from the locals.
Cole takes a step forward, his face darker. “You messed with my business. You called people and told them damaging things about me.”
How did he find out? How did he know that I was behind it all? Could he have been stalking Denise’s mother?
“You deserve to go to prison for what you did.” I lower my voice. “You are a murderer and a rapist.”
“And you made a big mistake. You should have stayed out of my business. Those women, most of them were prostitutes. They offered themselves willingly to me and to everyone else who visited the hotel.”
The same words Marjorie had used when defending him.
“I wasn’t… Denise wasn’t a prostitute. You raped her. You killed her.” I inhale sharply. “You killed Janella.”
“There are exceptions to every rule,” he sighs and shoves his hands into his pockets. “Denise was too much trouble and Janella, well, you can try and figure it out yourself.” He turns to the window, his back to me.
The image of Janella’s phone lying on the kitchen counter that night comes to me. She probably came back for it and saw Cole killing Brett. Then she ran. My heart jumps to my throat. “She saw you kill Brett.”
“Maybe, maybe not.” He lifts the curtain to look out into the darkness.
That has to be it. That’s why she wanted to speak to me moments before Clark and I left the house. She wanted to tell me what she saw. Maybe she planned to go to the cops, but she was afraid of Cole. I’ll always regret not hearing her out that morning.
I need to take my son and get away from Cole before I become his next victim. Physically, Clark is safe from him. He wouldn’t kill his own grandson, a child. But then, Cole has shown himself to be capable of more than I could ever imagine.
Adrenaline floods back into my body and I slowly rise to my feet.
While his back is still turned to me, I twist the bathroom handle and pull open the door. Thankfully, Clark is right behind it. I grab his arm and pull him out.
“Ouch, Mommy,” he complains, and Cole turns back to face me, thunderclouds in his eyes.
“What do you think you’re doing? Don’t make another stupid mistake.”
