What Simon Didn’t Say

by Copeland, Joy

  “Wait! Where are you going?”

  “To where my daughter was last seen.”

  “But that’s out of town! What about your statement to the police? Remember that Charles will be here in a few hours. Don’t we want to let the police know what’s going on?”

  “Maybe, maybe not.”

  “What do you mean? Charles is putting his reputation on the line for you. You at least have to show up at the station. Surely he can help with this other situation.” Lena was pleading.

  “Lena, this other situation is my daughter’s life! All other deals are off!”

  “Well, of course, of course, but…”

  Zoie took a deep breath. “Lena, I don’t expect you to understand. After all, you don’t have a child.”

  The look of horror on Lena’s face told Zoie that the no-child remark hit its target. Zoie guessed that Lena wanted a child. So far she just hadn’t hooked up with the right guy or made the decision to go it alone. Zoie knew her remark was insensitive, but it accomplished her intention—to shut Lena up. Brutal truth had a way of doing that. Zoie also knew that as soon as she walked out the door, Lena would call Charles. Zoie wasn’t sure whether Charles would try to prevent her from leaving town, but for a moment it occurred to her that Charles actually might be helpful. Then on second thought, she decided not to chance confiding anything more in him. What if Jahi’s crew were holding Nikki as the ultimate leverage? If so, more involvement with the DC police wouldn’t be good. Zoie sat on the small bench in the foyer pushing her feet into her shoes. Since Phillip hung up, no one from Ohio had called back. She’d call them again when she was out of Lena’s earshot.

  “But where are you going? It’s four in the morning.”

  “Reagan Airport to get the first thing flying to ah…Pittsburgh.”

  “Pittsburgh?” Lena said. She was somewhat bewildered.

  “Remember that I told you Nikki was in Pittsburgh with her grandparents. I’ve got to meet a cop there.” Like the lies she’d told at the Shelter, Zoie found the Pittsburgh lie easy to tell. It was another lie of necessity, one concerning life and death. She remembered her grandmother’s old saying “The truth is overrated.”

  “Oh, I guess you did say Pittsburgh,” Lena said sheepishly. Lena was talking again, but the sting of the no-child remark had siphoned her usual reporter’s spark, or perhaps she was ashamed. In the face of a missing child, she’d tried to pressure Zoie by using Charles’s reputation and her “exclusive.” Luckily Lena hadn’t made the connection between Toledo and the phone numbers no longer in her possession. Zoie was glad she’d retrieved the paper with her contacts. She didn’t want anyone calling Ohio and revealing things that might further jeopardize Nikki’s safe return.

  “Do you have the number of a cab company?” Zoie asked.

  Still subdued, Lena gave her the number of the cab company she used and supplied the building address for the pickup. Zoie ordered a cab to take her to Reagan Airport.

  Lena accompanied Zoie down to the lobby. The cab was already waiting.

  “Look, I am grateful for all your help,” Zoie said. “I owe you a lot…not to mention the money I borrowed. And you will get your story at some point. Now, though, I’m focused on my daughter. I’ll be in touch.”

  Neither offered a parting hug. As Zoie entered the cab, Lena said, “Stay safe. I’ll pray for your daughter.”

  Maybe Lena would pray, but Zoie knew for sure that she would immediately call Charles, so Zoie didn’t bother to ask her not to.

  Chapter 48

  Near the Tunnel’s End

  Zoie’s cab was heading toward the entrance to the freeway when she said, “I’ve changed my mind. I don’t want to go to the airport.”

  “Huh? Then where to, lady?”

  “Just don’t get on the freeway! Let me think.”

  For a moment she considered going to Jahi’s apartment, not to the Capitol Hill place he’d been house sitting. She’d been there once. There she could face him and negotiate for her daughter’s safety. That is, if he actually had something to do with Nikki’s disappearance. But Jahi was still likely to be at the police station, still consoling Sister Te. She envisioned the pair wringing their hands over Tarik, plotting to cover up their tracks in the multiple crimes. Or in an even more evil scenario, the two could be directing Nikki’s fate. My poor baby. A tear rolled down Zoie’s cheek. No, she needed to get to Perrysburg to search for Nikki.

  “Take me to Columbia Road and Seventeenth Street,” she told the driver. She figured that Charles and company would trace her movements to the airport, but it would take hours for them to figure out that she hadn’t taken a flight to Pittsburgh or anywhere else. By the time the DC cops figured out that she wasn’t at the airport or the train station, she’d be long gone. Of course, they could trace her cell and identify her last call to the Benjamins in Ohio. There were records at her home and information on her laptop being held in evidence. Charles could easily figure out her whereabouts. Hopefully he’d understand her plight and cut her some slack. Maybe he had children and could sympathize with her actions more than Lena had. He’d have to hold off the DC cop’s need for a statement. Perhaps Maynard would regain consciousness and explain what had happened. Thinking of Maynard, she sighed. He would give a cryptic account of the night’s horrific events, blaming it all on the devil’s nameless disciples.

  In the cab’s darkness, Zoie turned off her phone to preserve its remaining charge. She felt inside her pocketbook for a piece of braided lanyard. Nikki had made the short rough chain just before they left New York. Zoie rubbed the lanyard between her thumb and forefinger, remembering Nikki’s pride in producing the complicated box style. “Here, Mommy,” she had said. “I used your favorite colors, pink and silver.”

  Such a bright child. Such a lonely child. All she wanted was a puppy for company, and I couldn’t even allow that bit of happiness. Zoie realized that she’d taken her own failings out on the Benjamins. Every emotion conceivable fired on her every nerve: guilt, shame, dread, and anger. Silently she called on God, the fleeting presence in her life.

  There was a chance that Nikki hadn’t been kidnapped. There was a chance Nikki’s disappearance had nothing to do with Jahi and his gang. Was that good news or bad? Zoie wiped tears from her cheeks. Since the puppy was also missing, there was a chance that Nikki had been so upset about leaving the puppy that she’d taken off on her own. To go where? Somewhere her daughter was alone. Scared.

  “Please, God, keep Nikki safe,” she whispered.

  Zoie exited the cab at the corner of Seventeenth Street and Columbia Road and hustled up the hill to Tina’s building. In the dark rear lot of Tina’s building, the BMW was waiting. She unlocked the car, threw the denim bag onto the back seat, got in quickly, and locked the doors. The car was hot and stuffy, but something told her not to open the windows. With her heart pounding, she started the car.

  The bottled water she’d left from the previous night was in the cup holder. She took a swig of the piss-warm liquid and splashed some on her face. Tired or not, she knew it was time to hit the road.

  She couldn’t remember the Benjamins’ address, and without a charged Blackberry, she couldn’t access her contacts. She took a deep breath and finally figured out how to use the BMW’s GPS. She set the device for Perrysburg, Ohio and followed its instructions. Once on Route 270, Zoie turned on the radio. The stoic announcer rattled off a litany of overnight events: a shooting in Southeast DC, a truck overturned in Langley Park, and a fire at a store in Georgetown. There was no mention of an assault on a homeless man at a homeless shelter or of a khat drug bust. For a minute Zoie considered that her harrowing night might have all been a dream. But it was real. She’d indeed uncovered a drug operation and saved a man’s life or nearly caused his death, depending on how one judged such things. And the Perrysburg police had confirmed that Nikki was missing.

  With decent traffic and a few short rest stops, Zoie figured she could make it to Perrysburg
in ten hours. In Hagerstown she got off the highway for gas and was directed to a twenty-four-hour Walmart. There she purchased a Blackberry car charger. In the parking lot, she plugged in the phone and prayed for divine intervention. Promising herself that she wouldn’t blow a gasket, she took a deep breath and called the Benjamins. It took several rings for Phillip Benjamin to answer.

  “Phillip, it’s Zoie. What’s happening? Have you found Nikki?”

  “Zoie, I’m glad you called back,” he said, sounding down. “I’m turning you over to Detective Marconi.”

  “Phillip, wait!”

  It was clear that Phillip didn’t want to talk to her. Was it because of more horrendous news or their earlier clash?

  “Please, God…please, God,” she whispered as the seconds ticked before Marconi took the phone.

  “Ms. Taylor, Marconi here.”

  “What news do you have for me? I’m headed there.”

  “Good, you’re coming. I’m told the child’s father is also on his way.”

  “Oh!”

  Elliot in Perrysburg? Of course.

  It was no surprise that the Benjamins had called their son. Zoie fought to shake off this latest curveball. Her priority was Nikki. She could hear her grandmother’s voice. “Now, Zoie, don’t be petty. That petty stuff can boomerang.”

  “Ms. Taylor, are you still there.”

  “Yes, yes.” She gathered her wits and listened intently to Marconi’s account of the search efforts.

  “We’ve got thirty men out on the street and searching down by the river.” Mention of the river gave Zoie chills. She knew about the Maumee. She’d walked along it with Elliot. “We located the man who put the deposit on the puppy,” Marconi continued. “Nothing there. That trail’s a dead end.”

  “So that’s good news?”

  “I’d count this update as neutral. As far as kidnapping suspects, I’m inclined to cross him off the list. There are other kidnappers out there. The FBI is making the rounds of the registered pedophiles in the area.”

  Zoie cringed. “Oh, God! Pedophiles, close by?”

  “Ma’am, they’re all over, unfortunately. We’re hoping your daughter’s a runaway. But if she isn’t being held, then she’s out there alone. That’s mighty dangerous. Someone with ill intentions could still find her before we do. Ms. Taylor, is there anything else you want to share about your daughter that could help us?”

  Zoie wanted to say, “Yes, there’s the possibility that a drug ring has grabbed her,” but she held back. If the drug crew did have Nikki, saying too much might jeopardize her further. “Well, yes. I know she was upset. Upset about having to leave the puppy in Ohio. And you should know she’s very smart.”

  “Yes, we know those things from the grandparents,” Marconi said with a matter-of-fact tone.

  “Then…there is nothing else I can think of.”

  “Okay, if you think of anything else, call right away.”

  When the call ended, Zoie checked her phone. If the drug crew did have her daughter, wouldn’t they be trying to contact her? Demanding something? Perhaps her silence? There was one missed call and a text message, both from Detective Bender. The message read, “Lena filled me in. Hope u find ur child. Shelter biz can wait but still needs settling.”

  Charles did have a heart.

  The road was long and boring. Zoie tried listening to the radio, but she wasn’t having much success in blocking terrible visions of what might have happened to her daughter. She pictured Nikki’s body down by the river or her huddling somewhere. She was probably scared and hungry, wherever she was. When she dismissed those thoughts, she relived Maynard’s beating. Her visions were soon replaced by the dread of seeing Elliot again. Even in the emotional distress over her missing child, the feeling of hurt and anger over Elliot’s betrayal seemed as fresh as the day their relationship ended.

  The last time she’d set eyes on Elliot was in her attorney’s office. He’d come to sign the child-custody agreement, giving up his parental rights. He’d been jittery, saying little else than, “Where do I sign?” He babbled about wanting the marathon poster that he’d left at their apartment. At one point he offered a weak “Sorry.” Having signed the document, he let out a deep sigh of relief. Elliot wanted out. He wanted a fresh start. No responsibilities. It was as simple as that, or was it? Months before, he’d packed his things and left their apartment. His total explanation for abandoning them was, “I just can’t do it.” No amount of Zoie’s pleading could turn the situation around. Zoie wasn’t required to be present for the signing, but witnessing his act of abandonment was something she needed to do. Until the end she’d remained in disbelief that he was officially walking away. Somehow her being there was meant to make it real, to jolt her into reality.

  And so that’s how it went down. Painful as that day was, she no longer could doubt. He didn’t want the child, and he didn’t want her. Nikki was only ninth months old.

  At each rest stop, Zoie downed coffee and a pastry. The caffeine and sugar kept her alert, especially during the most tedious part of the drive—the Pennsylvania Turnpike. As the day wore on, other calls came in. Most of them were from the Foundation. She ignored them all but always checked to see if any of the calls were from unknown origins. She talked to Detective Marconi several more times. The last time was outside of Pittsburgh. No status change.

  “Nikki, where are you?”

  At 3:30 p.m. the BMW rolled up in front of the Benjamins’ comfortable home. Two police vehicles were parked in their driveway. Down the block two men leaned against a van labeled WUPW Toledo. Another media vehicle was parked across the street. Exhausted and sticky, Zoie leaned her forehead against the steering wheel for a second, trying to gather the strength to face what she would find inside. She went up the brick walkway and the four steps to the porch, where a uniformed officer stood in her path to the door.

  “I’m Zoie Taylor,” she explained.

  “You’re the child’s mother. We’ve been expecting you,” the officer said with a broad grin. “It’s a good day. Sometimes we get lucky, and today the angels were on our side.”

  “Does that mean you found her?” Zoie said, forcing a smile.

  “Yeah, about forty-five minutes ago. You mean they didn’t call and tell you?”

  Without responding Zoie bounded for the door. Inside she called, “Nikki! Nikki!”

  A middle-aged man with a beer belly and another uniformed officer came forward from the kitchen. “Ms. Taylor, I’m Detective Marconi,” said the beer-belly man. “I was just trying to contact you. Based on your calls, we expected you sooner. I guess you’ve heard the good news.”

  “Yes, yes, where is she? What happened? Where did you find her? Is she okay? I want to see her.”

  In the midst of Zoie’s barrage of questions, the Benjamins entered the room. Phillip looked well, but Celeste was an obvious mess—frail, nervous, and paler than usual. Phillip led his wife to the couch. Something else felt wrong. Where was the air of joy that accompanied the return of a missing child?

  “Celeste, Phillip, where’s Nikki,” Zoie asked.

  Elliot entered the room with Nikki sitting upright in his arms. The infamous puppy romped at his heels. Nikki looked unharmed. Thank God. Zoie kept her distance. She tried not to fixate on Elliot, but she couldn’t help it. He looked the same. His runner’s body was still long and lean.

  “Hello, Zoie,” Elliot said as he attempted to lower Nikki to the floor.

  “Nikki, baby,” Zoie said with arms wide to receive her daughter. But the solemn child clung to her father’s neck. It was clear that they had a relationship—one that predated that moment. A daughter always wants a father, even an occasional one.

  “Hi, Mommy,” Nikki said as she clung to Elliot with one arm while leaning to reach for the jumping puppy with her free hand.

  Zoie wanted to grab her and squeeze her and shower her with kisses, but she resisted, waiting instead for Nikki to come around. “Nikki, where have you bee
n?” Zoie asked, her tone gentle as she focused on her child, as she tried not to acknowledge Elliot’s presence.

  The child shrugged in that “I don’t know” way kids do. This behavior was unlike Nikki. The precocious child usually had something to say about everything.

  “Elliot found her,” Phillip said. “She took the puppy and hid under the bleachers at the high school’s football field. She thinks you’re going to be mad at her. She has no use for us either. We’re the ones giving her puppy away.”

  Zoie had a lot of emotions, but being angry with Nikki wasn’t one of them. “Baby, I’m not mad. I promise. I’m not mad,” Zoie said as tears rolled down her cheeks. “I was so worried.”

  “I was at the place where Daddy used to run. He told me he liked to play under the bleachers when he was my age.”

  Elliot finally spoke. “I don’t know why I didn’t think of that place sooner. I took her over to that field a few weeks back when we went for a run. She was fascinated with how the sunlight filtered through the bleachers.”

  “I should’ve figured it out too,” Phillip said. “Not the bleachers part, but figuring she’d run away. If I’d looked around, I would have noticed both the peanut butter and a half loaf of bread were missing.”

  “Phillip, you don’t even eat peanut butter,” Celeste said as if from another planet.

  “I knew Daddy would come for me,” Nikki said.

  “Elliot, thank you for finding my daughter,” Zoie said.

  Finally, Nikki ran to her mother arms. “I’m sorry, Mommy. I had to stay with Biscuit. Mommy, I want to go live with Daddy because Biscuit can live at his house.”

  “Don’t worry, baby. Biscuit can live at our house. I promise,” Zoie said, giving Elliot a menacing glance. Plenty of issues came with that promise. She would just have to deal with them later.

  Just then a young woman entered the room. She was willowy with long limbs and a swan neck, willowy except for a prominent belly the size of a small watermelon half-hidden in her flowing summer dress. She had to be at least six months along.