by Various
“Hi,” the girl said with a big grin.
She glanced at Jordan, then back to the girl. “Elizabeth?”
The girl’s dark eyes widened as she looked from her to Jordan then back again. “No. My name’s Britney.”
“Is your mom or dad home?
“Yes. Who’re you?”
“My name is Jordan. Can you get them, please?” Jordan stood straight up again and looked at her.
Chelsea kept her eyes aimed at the door and shook her head once she saw someone unfamiliar approach. “I know this is the house. It has to be,” she whispered to Jordan, “but she isn’t Monique
Markales.”
“Who is it then? A nanny? A housekeeper?”
“How do I know?” she snapped, but the words were cut short when a dark haired woman yanked the door open in an impatient huff.
“Can I help you?”
“We’re looking for Zack or Monique Markales.”
“You have the wrong house,” the woman said, trying to shut the door.
Jordan put his hand out to stop it.
“Are they neighbors of yours, perhaps?”
“No. I don’t know anyone by that name.”
She looked up at the house, and then toward the neighbors’ houses. This was it. It had to be the house. She remembered the fountain in the front and all of the flowers. She smiled, stepped
forward, and held out her hand to the woman. To her surprise, the woman shook it gently.
“I’m the Markales’ niece. There’s been a crisis so I’m trying to locate them. I used to live here in the house with them but haven’t seen them in some time. We weren’t even told they had moved. How long have you lived here?”
The woman hesitated for a second, then held the door open. “Come in.”
Once inside, she knew without a doubt this was where she had left Elizabeth. It had the same dark-colored floor and unique stone marble, with a chandelier lighting up the high ceiling. How could she ever forget the house?
“Does it look familiar?” whispered Jordan as they walked into a living room off the foyer.
It was the same room where she’d sat often, looking at baby things with Monique. The same room where Zack had them listen to lists of names for their little girl. Correction, Jordan’s little girl.
“Yes,” she whispered back.
They walked into the living room and sat down on matching couches. Jordan sat with her while the woman settled on the other, shooing her daughter out of the room.
“What can I do for you?”
“There’s a guest house in back, isn’t there?”
“We had it torn down to build a garage. My husband’s hobby of rebuilding cars took precedence over a guest house. Besides, this place is big enough for guests to stay in here with us.”
“Yes, of course,” she said softly.
“We bought this house four years ago. Just love it, the uniqueness and everything.”
“It’s beautiful,” remarked Jordan as he pretended to show interest in the room. “Who did you by the house from?”
She scooted to the edge of the couch and had her hands folded in her lap. She wanted to tell the woman to quit wasting their time, but being rude wouldn’t get her anywhere other than shown to the door.
“Hm. I don’t really know for sure,” she said, biting on a polished fingernail. “I’m sure it wasn’t a Markales. That name doesn’t sound familiar in the least bit.”
“Do you have some papers on the house? Surely, it wouldn’t be too much trouble for you to look it up for us?”
“My husband handles all of those records, sir. I wouldn’t want to go shuffling through his paperwork.” She got up, but paused in the entryway as if she’d changed her mind. It seemed as though they had gotten all they could from her.
“I’m sure your husband is a well organized man with an office. Correct?” Wow, he was willing to push the envelope. Anything for his child.
“Well, yes but—”
“Then he probably has a file labeled something like household papers or mortgage?”
“Yes, he does,” she walked over to the door and put her hand on the knob. She looked worried and ready for them to leave.
“You don’t have to go look at all the papers. Don’t even look at anything but the mortgage papers listing the person’s name. We will even wait outside on the porch if you’ll feel better, ma’am.” Ma’am? Nice touch. Jordan could be a smooth talker when it counted.
The woman looked over her shoulder as if hoping someone would come in and rescue her. “Oh, all right. Anything to help you out with finding your family,” she mumbled, adding a hesitant
smile. The woman’s high heels clicked against the marble floor as she hurried down the hallway into the office. A moment later, she reappeared.
“Did you find it?” asked Chelsea as she hurried over to the paper the woman held out to her.
“Yes, but I knew it wasn’t a Markales. This woman was Lynn Johanson. I wrote it down so you wouldn’t forget it.”
“Thanks,” replied Chelsea and then asked, “Are there any neighbors who might know the Markales?”
The woman shrugged her bony shoulders.
“Any of them been here as long as you have?” added Jordan.
“Yes. A few of them, but they usually don’t open their door to strangers. We’ve had some robberies around here lately, putting people on edge,” she said quickly as she opened the door and
motioned for them to go out.
“You have been so helpful. Of course we won’t be bothering the neighbors,” replied Jordan.
They slid into the SUV with Jordan behind the wheel. She sat the paper down on the dashboard and stared at it, hoping other information would suddenly appear underneath the name. She wished for an explanation but knew she wouldn’t receive one.
“I wonder who Lynn Johanson is?” she said with a sigh.
He started the ignition of the SUV and pulled onto the road.
She glanced at him as if to ask, “What are we doing now?”
“I don’t want her to think we are going to the neighbors,” Jordan explained.
“We are though, right?”
“We’ll visit the Markales’ former neighbors first. They would have more of an idea of what goes on over there. Every street has a nosy neighbor. Hopefully, it won’t take long to find theirs.”
“But since Elizabeth lived there for awhile, she may know some of the other kids.” Jordan grabbed a notebook and pen from his bag in the backseat. “We should take notes, so we don’t forget anything. Did Monique have a lot of friends?”
“Just me while I lived there during my pregnancy. Zack’s sister came around a lot. I moved out right after Elizabeth’s birth, so it would’ve been easy to keep friends away during that short of a time frame.”
“Ouch. That quick, huh?”
Another sigh. “Yes.”
“So Monique wasn’t too much into the whole keeping-up-with-the-Joneses’ lifestyle?” He wrote down most of her answers to his questions.
“Not really.”
“How far do you live from here?” He stopped writing and looked up at her.
“Forty-five minutes or so, depending on traffic.” She looked at the houses surrounding them.
Had Elizabeth ever played at any of the houses or taken walks down the sidewalk? Had Elizabeth ever ran with childhood joy into Monique’s waiting arms? She leaned her head back against the seat. She didn’t even know what color hair their daughter had.
“Do you want to stay at your place or get a hotel?”
“Let’s talk about it over some lunch. Besides, I don’t want to go right over to the neighbors. Give her some time to forget about us,” she suggested without looking at him. No need for him to see the pain in her eyes.
Chapter 8
They’d chosen a place near the college district with “Best veggie burgers in the city” plastered across the window in dark green paint. A mix of college students and business
people filled the inside and the tables lining the sidewalk. She had spotted a table at the end of the row outside and grabbed it while Jordan went in to order their food.
“This is good,” she said after taking a big bite of the burger.
“It is. Did you taste your smoothie? I didn’t know what flavor you like these days so I ordered your old favorite—banana strawberry.”
“It’s still my fave.”
“I’m glad I didn’t take the girl.”
She laughed. “What? We would’ve ended up in prison and you never would have found Elizabeth.”
“Yep.”
“That wouldn’t have been good,” she said, took a drink of her smoothie and then looked back up at him. “I’ve made my decision.”
“About?” He took a big bite of his burger.
“We should get a room tonight and if we still need to stay in Oregon any longer than tomorrow, we can stay at my apartment. I’ll need to go there at some point to grab a few things and pay bills.”
“Sounds good. One room or two?”
“Well, I…uh…” she stammered, “It’s silly to um…get two rooms when one would be fine.”
He winked at her. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure the room has two beds. I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable.”
“I’m not.”
“You may have been gone for a really long time but I can still tell when you’re lying.”
She laughed but didn’t comment as she ate her meal. Then the realization of what the day was going to lead to hit her. She would be sleeping in the same room as Jordan Case! For a moment she let her imagination run wild and pictured him lying next to her dressed in only boxer briefs.
She envisioned herself looking up at him, and running her fingers down his muscular chest. When she went to put her fingers in the waist band of his boxers, she shook her head to stop the daydream from playing even further. No, this can’t be happening.
She swallowed the last bite and suggested, “Maybe we should get two rooms?”
“Oh, Chels, don’t chicken out on me now. Nothing’s going to happen. No worries, right?”
“No worries.” She smiled and put her wrappers onto the tray. Grabbing the tray, she walked to the trash can and dumped it. Jordan slid his hand on the small of her back to guide her around
the crowd, a motion he’d always done as a teenager. Shivers shot through her.
“Let’s get our hotel room now and then we’ll head back up the hill to talk with the neighbors.”
They got into the SUV and drove down the curvy ramp leading them down the numerous levels and onto the street. She looked at his hand resting on the center console and wanted to reach out to entwine her fingers with his. Instead, she folded her hands in her lap, refusing to loosen her grip. If she did, she would reach out to him and make things a hundred times more complicated.
They’d picked the hotel before leaving Wilson, a plan B to the idea of having to stay for any length of time. Plan A had been to stay in her apartment if they’d been able to get Elizabeth back quickly and didn’t have much driving to do. As it looked, there would be, since they would be knocking on doors, grasping at straws to try and find their little girl.
Jordan slid the card into the slot in the door, twisted the knob when the red light turned green, then pushed open the door. One bed. Not even a couch. Great! She walked around him, dropped
her bag onto the floor and flopped onto the bed. Her shirt lifted up a bit, showing the very top of her tattoo. She felt Jordan’s eyes staring down at her.
“I thought we would have two beds.”
He shrugged. “I’ll sleep on the floor.”
“I’m so tired,” she said, rubbing her hands over her eyes. “I don’t know how I’m going to make it through canvassing the neighborhood.”
“I know, but we need to do it.”
“Do you want to shower or anything before we head out?” She got up from the bed and put her hair up in a ponytail, the auburn locks cascading half way down her back.
“People should be getting home now. Let’s head out so we can get this done.” He opened the hotel room door. “Oh, it looks like it’s clouding up. Did you bring a coat or anything?”
“That’s Oregon weather for you. I brought one. You?”
“I don’t melt. I’m not entirely made of sugar,” he announced with a laugh. “Let’s go.”
She grabbed her jacket out of her bag and slung it over her arm, then clicked the door shut behind her.
* * * *
After several knocks and doorbell rings with no results, they moved on to the last and biggest house on the street. The porch was some sort of stone with a matching walkway. Big pillars held the balcony up and Chelsea admired the elegance of the home as she rang the doorbell.
Jordan tried looking in the window. “This house is so far down, I’ll be surprised if they know the family.”
“After all of those doors being slammed in our faces, I feel like we’re wasting our time here,” she replied as she listened to the footsteps approaching the door. Jordan moved closer to do the door, ready to put on the charm as he had done with the owners of the Markales’ home, even if it meant sticking his foot out to block the door.
“Yes?” asked the blond woman who answered the door. She looked like a Barbie doll with her long silky hair, designer clothes and perfectly applied makeup.
“Good evening, ma’am,” Jordan began.
The woman kept her hand on the knob. “I don’t want to donate any money, buy anything, or sign any petitions.”
“We’re not here for any of those reasons.”
Upon hearing Jordan’s words, the woman relaxed a bit, but still kept her hand in position to slam the door in their faces.
“Okay. What can I do for you, then?”
Chelsea stepped forward, stuck out her hand for the woman to shake. “I’m trying to locate a family who used to live on this street. The Markales? I noticed you have a child and thought perhaps you might know them or their little girl?”
“Yeah, I know them,” replied the woman after a brief hesitation.
“You do? That’s great.”
“But I don’t like gossiping about my friends. Have a nice night.” She tried to shut the door as expected. The toe of Jordan’s tennis shoe made the door bounce back.
“Ma’am, I’m a relative of the Markales. Perhaps you remember me? I lived there with them about ten years ago. Anyway, I need to locate them and it seems to be more trouble than I thought it would. I’m not asking for gossip. Any information that could help me find my family would be good.”
“Hm,” said the woman, tapping her long nails against the wood door. “I do remember someone living with them awhile back. But I didn’t see her around. It just came up in casual conversation with Monique. How are you related to them?”
“I’m their niece. Zack’s niece, to be more precise.”
“Okay, well, I guess I can tell what I know, but it isn’t much.”
“Any information will help.”
The woman stepped outside and shut the door behind her. Her long, elegant hand swept toward the wicker furniture, suggesting they sit down.
Chelsea sat with Jordan on the loveseat and when he put his hand on her thigh, she felt like she would burst into flames. He wasn’t supposed to touch her, but the comforting gesture felt good.
Instead of pushing his hand away, she covered it with hers.
“About four years ago, their little girl came over to play with my daughter. Lizzy, that’s what they called her, stayed here all afternoon. Monique came to get her close to dinner time. I visited with Monique for about an hour. Monique and Lizzy left when our cook announced dinner had been served.”
“How often did Lizzy come by to play?”
“Lizzy and Angelique were best friends. They adjusted well to first grade because they were in the same class. They would play together probably five days out of the week unless one of us
went on vacatio
n.”
“So you know the Markales pretty well,” said Jordan.
“Oh yes. We barbequed together and we were planning on taking Lizzy with us to Disneyland.”
“But you didn’t?” asked Chelsea, giving Jordan’s hand a slight squeeze.
“No. It was the strangest thing. Everything was normal. Nothing dramatic had been going on with them or anything. Two days after we talked, a moving van parked outside of their house. I didn’t see the Markales anywhere.”
“I haven’t seen Lizzy since birth. Do you happen to have a picture of her?” She couldn’t believe she’d said that out loud, and was even more surprised when the woman jumped up from her seat and ran into the house.
Jordan mouthed “thank you,” as the woman ran back out holding a snapshot in her hand.
She dropped it into Jordan’s outstretched hand.
“You can have it. I was going to give it to Monique.”
The girls were cute in matching outfits. Their white overalls had pink bows on the front, matching pink bows in their hair, but the similarities ended there. At age five Elizabeth looked just like her parents. Her black curls were held back away from her face, revealing freckled cheeks and a dimpled chin. Her eyes were the same shade of green as Chelsea’s.
“Wow,” Jordan and Chelsea said together, then glanced at each other.
“I don’t know what happened. I tried calling them but the phone had been disconnected. Their cellphones went straight into voicemail.”
“Did you ever find out what happened?”
The woman tapped her nails against the armrest of the chair as if it were a computer keyboard. This time it made her wonder why she had them done in the first place. Jordan leaned back and slid his arm over the back of the loveseat and around her shoulders, making her forget about the half-chewed fingernail.
“On the second day, I went over to the house. I talked to one of the movers. There had been a death in the family, so they were moving. I never heard another word from them.”
“Do you know whose death it was?”
“No clue.” She looked over her shoulder as if expecting someone to come outside. “I’m in the middle of something. I should be getting back inside.”
