by Mary Stone
“Dogs sound like a much more manageable pet. Did you know there are some breeds that don’t shed very much? That’s less time you’d have to spend picking hairs off your clothes.”
Interesting. “But they still poop.”
The woman’s soft laugh filled the room. “Yes, I’m afraid they do. What does your mother say about having a pet?”
Good question. Bethany nibbled her lip as she tried to predict her mama’s reaction. “I don’t know. I haven’t asked her yet.” But surely Mama wouldn’t say no to one little dog?
“I see. Well, good luck with that. What’s your mother like?”
“You mean, the one I have now?”
There was a very long pause before Helen spoke again. “Did you have other mothers before this one?”
“Yeah. Lots more than the other kids at my school. First, I lived with the Jacksons, and then with Mrs. Spellman, but she was old and grumpy and always yelled that I was too loud and underfoot, so she gave me to her nephew’s family.”
Bethany never remembered what a nephew was, exactly. Just that it was some kind of relative.
The nice lady rubbed Bethany’s hair. “I see.”
“They were really nice and bought me lots of stuff, but my favorite mom is the one I have now. She’s my real mama, and she searched all over the country until she found me. A bad person stole me when I was a little baby. That’s why I had all those other mommies. But my real mama promised that she’d never let anyone take me away from her again.”
Bethany’s lip started to tremble. She didn’t believe her mama had meant to lie, no matter what Doctor Rotten told her. But the truth was, someone had taken Bethany away because…look where she was now. Away from her mama and their cozy little house near the mountains, and trapped in this smelly old house with a scary man who hurt people.
This Helen woman was nice, but she was still a stranger. Bethany wanted her own mama, her own bed, the food in her own kitchen that she could eat whenever she was hungry. She wanted to run from this place, as far away as possible, and never ever have to think about the bad man ever again.
Bethany sniffed once, and again. After that, it was like she’d turned on a faucet. Her nose turned all snotty, and tears streamed down her face, no matter how hard she tried to hold them back. The sobs came next, wrenching out of her chest so hard that her ribs hurt.
“Oh honey, I’m sorry. I know you must miss your mother so much right now.”
Bethany didn’t resist when the woman’s gentle hands gathered Bethany tight to her chest. Hugging another person felt so good, even while she was crying. Made Bethany feel safe for the first time since the bad man stole her.
Her sobs grew quieter, but Bethany wasn’t ready for the woman to let her go. She snaked her arms around the woman’s neck and clung with all her might, pressing her damp nose to the woman’s soft skin. Not her mama, but at least Helen smelled good, like flowers and vanilla. Her hands were soft and gentle as they rubbed Bethany’s back and head.
The lumpy old mattress creaked when the woman began rocking Bethany, back and forth, back and forth. She hummed as she moved, stroking Bethany’s hair until her quiet sobs softened to quieter ones, and then those turned into hiccups.
The woman stopped rocking but kept Bethany safe in her arms like a caterpillar in a cocoon and continued to smooth her hand down Bethany’s head.
“I remember doing this with my daughter when she was a little girl sometimes, but now she’s a big girl, all grown up. I’m so proud of her. She’s fierce and brave and stronger than most people can dream of. She could have had an easy life, but instead, she chose to put herself in dangerous situations to help people. And she does help a lot of people, all the time. She’s beautiful, inside and out. Kind of like you.”
Bethany hiccupped once more before leaning back. “She kinda sounds like Wonder Woman.”
“Does she? What’s Wonder Woman like?”
“Brave, and strong, and beautiful. She was born on a secret, magic island but left so she could fight bad guys and for truth and justice. Her family was upset with her, and she was very sad, but she left anyway because she knew that helping people was her destiny.”
The hand on Bethany’s hair stilled, and when the woman spoke, her voice sounded thick at first, like she’d swallowed a bunch of marbles. “That does sound a lot like my daughter. She’s a police officer, so she fights bad guys too, and her family wasn’t thrilled with her job when she first told them about her plans, either. I hope she knows how proud we are, though.”
“What about the magic island?”
Helen’s hand began stroking again. “No magic island, although she did grow up in Charleston, which is almost the same thing.”
The woman’s voice was clear again now as she continued to tell Bethany about her brave daughter. Bethany relaxed into her arms and let her mind float, trying to picture the superhero policewoman.
As she drifted off, lulled by her new friend’s soft, calming stories, Bethany dreamed that Helen’s daughter showed up to rescue them, riding a giant goose and circling her golden lasso in the air.
32
Katarina stopped pacing when the front door to the Charleston Police Department opened but resumed again when an unfamiliar balding man in a blue beat cop uniform strode out.
She huffed the brisk evening air and stomped her boots a little harder. What the hell was taking Officer Carrot Top so long to cut through that bureaucratic red tape? Had she gotten distracted by a rogue box of donuts?
“I’m sure it won’t be too long now.”
Katarina growled low in her throat and speared the roommate with a murderous glare. Not too long? Please. This trip had already taken too long, with Ellie still nowhere in sight. If Jillian and her big, slobbery mutt weren’t here babysitting, Katarina would have snuck into the precinct by now. Once she’d stolen the phone, she would have slipped back out, with no one the wiser.
“But no, we had to do it the ‘right’ way.” Katarina curled her fingers to form air quotes as she muttered to herself and stomped.
“What was that?”
“Nothing.” Great, now she’d really snagged the tiny blonde’s attention. Katarina hunched her shoulders and presented the woman with her back. Although she doubted the technique would help. In the short time she’d spent in Jillian’s presence, Katarina had learned that the cop’s energetic roommate rarely took a hint. Subtle or otherwise.
“It’s going to be okay. I promise Ellie knows what’s she’s doing.”
See? The woman was like a walking, talking positivity meme.
Not only that, but in this case, Jillian was wrong. Katarina doubted very much that Ellie had the slightest inkling what she was doing. Not in this particular situation. The redhead clung to the romanticized versions of the justice system. Fairy tales about how following legal procedures and cooperating with law enforcement would result in a happily ever after, with the bad guys vanquished and behind bars and the good guys riding off into the sunset.
Bullshit.
Katarina’s boot crunched a dead twig on the pavement. She slammed her foot down, again and again, not stopping until the wood turned to splinters. Maybe that Pollyanna fantasy played out when dealing with small-time lawbreakers or minor felons, but not with criminals like Kingsley. The monster who’d raised and trained her would never be held by the law.
Her muscles twitched with the need to do something, anything, to help save her daughter, so she started pacing again. The police…Ellie…the FBI. They all suffered from the same delusion, that they could just arrest Kingsley like anyone else and lock him up for life.
She hugged her arms across her chest, digging her fingers into her triceps. They didn’t understand him like Katarina did. Didn’t realize that if they locked him up, he’d only find a way out. Either by impersonating a guard, or starting a prisoner riot, or injuring himself, or hell, even pretending to be dead. The how didn’t matter. The point was, no prison would hold Lawrence Kingsley for
long.
He’d call on other criminals who benefitted from his tangled web of shady enterprises to help him break free and end up back on the streets, playing God with people’s lives in no time.
Katarina let loose an enraged snarl and kicked the pavement. The mutt barked and bounded over, lunging at her toe with her butt in the air.
“I’m not playing with you, stop!” She bared her teeth at the dog, who barked again and wagged her tail faster.
“Sam, get back here!”
Jillian yanked on the dog’s lead, and with a whine, she slunk back to her side. “Sorry about that. Sam gets a little silly sometimes.” She cleared her throat. “So, what’s one of your favorite memories with Bethany, or the best day you spent together? Sometimes focusing on happy times can help with the stress.”
Katarina stopped pacing long enough to fix the blonde with a death stare. Stress? Did this annoying little cheerleader really think she could teach Katarina about stress? She’d experienced more stress in a few months of her childhood than Jillian probably had in her entire perky-ass life.
Stress and bloodshed.
Off the top of her head, Katarina could conjure up at least seven ways to snuff the light from those blue eyes before Ellie even stuck her little toe out the door. If Jillian kept up with the intrusive questions, she might let her itchy fingers demonstrate one of them.
Play nice. You still need their help. “My memories are private.”
“Got it, sorry. I was just trying to help give your mind a break from worrying.”
“Maybe I want to worry.”
Jillian grunted but wisely kept her mouth shut and stooped down to pet her mutt. Too anxious to sit still, Katarina returned to marching up and down the pavement. Instead of fretting over the delay, though, her mind drifted to that night back in the government office when she’d fidgeted and paced and ripped off her cuticles while waiting to be reunited with her daughter.
Her stress levels had skyrocketed that evening too, but for entirely different reasons.
In the months leading up to that night, Katarina had devoted all her time and energy to reclaiming Bethany. Joy like no other had filled her soul when the little girl appeared across the room, then had taken a tentative step toward her. What Katarina hadn’t been prepared for were the fear and doubts that dive-bombed her, like a pelican swooping after a tasty fish.
Standing there, in that stuffy office, Katarina had forgotten how to breathe. What did she know about being a mother? About keeping an entire other person alive, and not even a full-grown one at that?
A sudden urge to flee had seized her legs. No. She’d screwed up. She needed to tell them all that she’d made a huge mistake. Bethany would be better off adopted by a loving family. Anyone. Just not Katarina.
She’d shaken off the panic paralyzing her vocal cords and prepared to tell them as much.
Until the little girl appeared with the tall FBI agent in the cowboy hat and piped up in her sweet, high voice. “Who are you?”
Katarina’s hardened, jaded heart had melted on the spot. She was this beautiful little creature’s mama.
Her legs had buckled, and she’d dropped to her knees. “I’m your real mother. Your first mother. Your last mother. Your forever mother.” Eyes wet with tears, she’d opened her arms wide and waited.
Across the room, Bethany had sucked on her lower lip and hesitated.
The disappointment had hit hard, but Katarina hid the emotion. She understood better than most the confusion and chaos that kids internalized when they were constantly shuffled from home to home.
The next instant, Bethany had taken one halting step, her little face solemn. That step turned into another, and another, until her shoes pounded the floor, and she’d launched herself in Katarina’s arms.
When that warm little body pressed itself to hers in the awkward hug, Katarina’s heart squeezed, pumping love and protectiveness through her vessels like oxygen. She’d made a silent vow right then and there over that sweet-smelling blonde head that they’d never be separated again. That she’d go to whatever lengths necessary to keep her daughter safe.
And she had. Right up until Kingsley swept them all up into another one of his demented games.
Despair crashed over her. That psychopathic asshole who’d raised her had shattered Katarina’s vow into oblivion. Stolen her daughter for the second time, and why? As punishment for her sins? Because he couldn’t bear for one of his little chickens to fly the coop?
“Argh!” Katarina whirled and lashed out. Again and again, while her blood boiled with helpless rage.
“Uh, I don’t think that cement block is going to care much about your rude treatment, but your toes might.”
Jillian’s wry comment prompted Katarina to pause and glance down. She’d been so pissed that she hadn’t even realized she was kicking cement. And, dammit, now that she mentioned it, Katarina’s big toe was throbbing.
She shook out her foot, glaring at the wall. “You’re lucky I don’t have a sledgehammer.”
“Okay, that does it. Let’s walk across the street and grab a coffee before you go all Fixer Upper on government property and land both of our asses in trouble.”
Katarina’s knee-jerk reaction was to snarl and tell the little busybody to mind her own damn business. But her toe hurt, and she was going nuts marching around out here in the cold while Ellie took her sweet ass time.
Once the phone was safe in Katarina’s hands, she could give a shit if the entire building and surrounding area—including the stupid, incredibly hard wall—imploded and disappeared into a giant sinkhole right then and there. Until that time, she could use a distraction.
Preferably before she lost her shit, charged inside the precinct, and landed her butt in a holding cell. “Fine. Coffee shop. But you’re paying.”
A few minutes later, she straddled a chair at a small outdoor table, plucking at the cardboard sleeve on her cup in-between sips of black coffee. She’d chosen a spot with a clear view of the police station’s front doors. The next time they swung open, two people emerged into the halo of illumination cast by the exterior light fixtures. Even from across the street, Ellie’s red hair glowed like a beacon, and her appearance eased the chokehold on Katarina’s stomach.
Finally.
A tall, muscular man in a cowboy hat exited with her. It was the FBI agent who’d helped arrange her WITSEC deal.
Katarina’s eyes narrowed as she blew on the fragrant steam. Agent Studly was walking awfully close to Ellie, much closer than she’d expect two regular old law enforcement partners would. Did that mean the hot agent and Detective Carrot Top were an item now? Interesting.
“Over here!” Jillian waved at Ellie, who scoured the patio until she spotted them and waved back. The FBI agent pulled a phone from his pocket and pressed it to his ear, motioning her to go ahead.
The detective nodded and jogged across the street while Katarina sipped the bitter brew with a scowl. Great, now Detective Carrot Top showed a little hustle. Where the hell was that speed inside the precinct when Katarina had stood around with her thumb up her ass?
After all this time, Ellie had better not be joining them empty-handed, either. It would be such a shame if Katarina’s coffee just so happened to end up all over that shiny red hair.
Katarina’s fingers flexed around the cup, relaxing again when Ellie plopped into a chair and slid the confiscated phone onto the table.
“Got it.”
“Good job!” Jillian beamed at her roommate like she’d performed some sort of miracle.
Katarina gritted her teeth. “If you’re all done with the cheerleading, could we, I don’t know, actually look at the freaking phone now?”
Instead of the irritated response Katarina expected, Ellie lifted her eyebrows at her friend. “Has she been this delightful the entire time I was inside?”
“Why do you think we’re at the coffee shop? I was afraid if we stood outside the precinct door for much longer, she was going
to charge inside and start tearing the place up until she found the phone herself.”
In unison, their heads swiveled toward Katarina, who slouched lower in the uncomfortable plastic chair. Huh. Maybe the tiny blonde elf-girl was more observant than she’d given her credit. “What? It was taking forever! And I would have snuck in, not torn the place up. I’m not a complete idiot,” she mumbled at the table.
Someone snorted, but when Katarina’s head whipped up, both of them wore bland expressions. The phone chimed as Ellie thumbed the power button. “Either way, I’m here now, so let’s get to work.”
They poked around a bit before opening the messages between Katarina and Kingsley.
As she read, a pit opened up in the bottom of her stomach. Each message forced her to relive the emotional avalanche that pummeled her when she’d realized Bethany was gone. First shock, then denial. The worst, though, was the icy terror. A wave so intense, she’d felt like she was drowning in fear.
That same terror lapped at her now and threatened to freeze her to the chair. She slammed her injured toe into the ground, gasping at the pain. Embracing it.
Good. At least pain motivates you to move. Fear is worthless, so quit cowering behind the table with your thumb up your ass and do something.
Katarina’s nostrils flared. Why the hell was she sitting here, sipping coffee and checking messages like she didn’t have a care in the world? She needed to act. Do something. Anything.
Her muscles coiled in anticipation. She was about to spring to her feet when the last text message caught her eye. Katarina eased back into her chair, frowning at the date. “This one was sent yesterday.”
Ellie leaned closer. “What the hell?”
All three of them peered at the text bubble.
18414072112258017182123110611421158222318170
“I’m guessing it’s some kind of code?” Jillian squinted at the string of numbers. “I just have no idea what.”
Jillian pulled three pens out of her oversized purse and tossed them on the table. While Ellie and Jillian transferred the numbers onto their napkins and brainstormed over what the text could mean, Katarina drew swirls on hers as her mind flashed to a memory. The first day when Kingsley sat her down at the dining room table and lectured about codes.
