Robin had been with him last year when he had the heart attack, but he couldn’t call her again. That was all over. At the time, they’d been lying in her bed in the early stages of trying to make love when he recognized the symptoms—excessive sweating, abnormal breathing, pains in his chest. He didn’t want to admit what was going on. But Robin finally saw the symptoms herself, and she called 911. She’d probably saved his life.
They’d been drinking and playing around all evening before that, nuzzling a little while she was cooking, making suggestive comments about how the evening would go later on. But the times before that hadn’t worked out so well. When they’d gotten into bed on their last few dates, nothing much had happened. He worried that it had become a pattern. He didn’t know if it was him, or her…or whether it was him reacting to her, or what the hell was going on. She didn’t say she was unhappy, but he figured she must have been. He wasn’t getting hard and staying hard, so on the way over he grabbed something out of the back of his medicine cabinet that he hadn’t used in months.
When the EMTs rolled him into the ambulance, Robin talked her way into the back with him. As the ambulance moved out of the parking lot, the medic wrapped a blood pressure cuff around one arm and placed an IV in the other. He ran through a list of questions, trying to get what information he could on the way into the emergency room. When the question got to medications—he knew he had to tell him. After he named the drug, the medic reacted in surprise.
“That’s a pretty strong ED drug to use in a dosage like that, given your medical history. Does your doctor know you were taking it?”
He didn’t—and neither did Robin. Robin didn’t want him to use it, so he’d taken it without telling her. He could see the look on her face. If he survived that night, he knew he’d hear about it later.
Five minutes had gone by. Was this another attack or just a false alarm? The pain and the pressure in his chest hadn’t gone away, so he slipped a second nitro pill under his tongue and waited.
After he was released from the hospital, he went by Robin’s apartment to pick up the things that had been left there. His shirt, jacket, and trousers had been folded and placed in a shopping bag, along with his underwear, which Robin had washed for him. She hadn’t touched the shoulder holster and the gun, which were still lying where he’d left them a week earlier. She made it clear that he couldn’t get his stuff out of her apartment fast enough to suit her.
He’d expected her to yell at him, but what she did was worse: she calmly took the empty space inside him and dissected it in front of him. It wasn’t the pills, she said. It wasn’t a question of whether he was hard or soft, fast or slow, orgasmic or flaccid—it was him. He had no sense of how to reach out and be warm and loving with another person. With him, it was all mechanical—just get the fluid pumping through the pipe and be done with it. Life wasn’t that way, she said, her calm voice starting to crack a little. She didn’t know why he wanted to be with her at all, since he showed so little feeling of true intimacy.
He wanted to object. He wanted to say that he was really a loving person who kept tripping over himself—that he just needed to work harder to understand what she wanted. But it was useless. Their relationship was over. ED pills or no ED pills, he would never be sleeping with her again. In fact, he hadn’t slept with anyone since then. Sometimes he wondered if he ever would.
At the three-minute mark on the second pill, the pain and the pressure started to subside. It was gone a few seconds later, and he wouldn’t need take the next pill or call the EMTs. But the pills had left him exhausted. He closed his eyes for a second.
The phone rang a little after 8:00 a.m. He’d fallen into a deep sleep after his bout with the nitroglycerin pills, and he tried to clear his head to find out who was on the phone. It was Susan Wilder.
“Mr. Fallon, I hate to disturb you this early, but I don’t know where else to turn.”
“What’s the matter?” He could hear the tears in her voice.
“It’s Alexi. She’s gone missing. I’ve been worried about it all night. I know you used to be an investigator, and… I just thought maybe you could help.”
“When did it happen?”
“Yesterday evening. I got a text message from her cell phone.”
Gina
I knew in the back of my mind that Alexi would be coming with me, but still we needed to talk.
Once we were far enough away from the pickup point, I planned to stop, pull the car over, and discuss what would come next. It was important to explain to her all of the options she had and to talk them through. She had to be clear on whatever we decided to do. I knew that was the right thing to do, but I was fighting myself on it at every step. My instinct was just to take her and run.
One thing was pretty clear: Alexi had no desire to talk about the sexual abuse she endured from the reverend. I’m sure it was occupying a big part of her mind—I knew I couldn’t get it out of my head—but every time I got close to discussing it, she steered the conversation in another direction. I decided that was probably healthy. There would be time enough later for the lawyers and the psychologists to find out what had happened. Maybe by then it would be a less painful for her to discuss it. The reverend’s name did come up, however, but mostly because she was worried about his power to control things. As we drove, she started to loosen up a bit, but her fear of him wasn’t far beneath the surface.
There were some practical questions we had to deal with. Did she get away from the house without anyone knowing where she was going? Alexi nodded yes. How about clothes—was she able to stick a few extra things in her backpack? She did. I glanced over at her a couple of times as I was driving, and I could see her stealing quick looks back at me, not knowing if she should do much more than that. She might not have been exactly sure what she was seeing. A lot of people have that reaction when they look at me the first time, so I’m used to it. She was nervous—who wouldn’t be nervous in that situation? I was a little shaky myself, but everything depended on my keeping my wits about me.
We reached Interstate 70 near the southwest part of the city, and I turned west and took the exit that led to the parking lot for the Indianapolis International Airport. I wasn’t planning to fly anywhere, but if someone was tracking our movements, it might not be a bad idea for them to think that we were getting on a plane. I pulled into a small turnout about a hundred feet or so before the parking lot entrance and turned off the ignition. Then I twisted around in the driver’s seat to get a better look at her.
She was beautiful. It was more than just the eyes—although I was still startled by them. Before this, my only memory of her was as an infant, beaming like a ray of hope in a tiny village. She was a gorgeous baby with a big smile. I could sense that the same smile was still there, but it was below the surface, looking for a reason to emerge. There was a sense of wariness on her face. I knew she wanted to ask me a lot of things, but she didn’t quite know how to go about it. I’d been putting off telling her the whole story until we could sit down and really talk, because I wasn’t quite ready for that at the moment. She was calm about how things had gone so far, but I could tell she was still sitting on a lot of uncertainty.
We had to talk about what we were going to do next. I assured her that I would not leave her there in the control of the man who was abusing her—that was out of the question. But what were the alternatives? She sat there looking at me like I had all the answers. I wasn’t sure I did.
“Alexi, we have to decide what to do. I could contact your mother and tell her you’re with me. We should think seriously about that. I would do the talking and try to explain to her everything that’s happened.”
Alexi got a stricken look on her face, and I could see tears in her eyes. “Please don’t do that.”
“I’m only saying that because it might be the right thing to do. It could be the easiest for everyone.”
“Do
n’t,” she implored. “She’ll never stand up to him.”
“Okay,” I said, trying to reassure her. “Don’t worry. I won’t do that unless you want me to.”
She wiped away the tears, nodding that she understood. We talked a little bit about her mother, but she wasn’t comfortable with the conversation.
“Another thing I could do is drive you right now to the Indiana Child Protective Services, and we could file a report with them. They have an office just south of where I picked you up.”
“What would happen? Would you be able to tell them what to do?”
“Probably, not. They have their own staff for that, but I could help you fill out the complaint and tell them what I know.”
“Would I have to go back to…to that house?”
“I’m not sure. They might want you to do that. I don’t know what their procedure is in this kind of situation. I’m sure they would do an investigation, but I don’t know what happens while that’s going on.”
“I can’t do that.” She shook her head and kept repeating the same thing. “I can’t do that.”
“We have to do what’s best for you.”
It was just a phrase that came out of my mouth. Of course it was the truth, but in this situation it didn’t mean anything at all. It was just a bunch of words that hung out there in midair, ready to fall of their own weight. I knew what was coming next.
“Can’t I just stay with you?” Her eyes were pleading with me now. “Maybe, for a little while at least?”
“Alexi, I’m not going to let you down.”
She was staring at me, her eyes watery.
“But you don’t even know me.”
She just kept staring.
As I was getting on the airplane in San Francisco, I knew in my heart it would probably work out this way. Over the last few days, Alexi had gathered together all the energy she had to contact me and then to meet me. It was a huge step that took an enormous amount of courage. Now she was spent. She wasn’t ready for any more risks or difficult decisions. She was leaving it up to me. I wished there were an alternative, but I couldn’t see it.
Sylvia knew me well enough to know what I would probably end up doing. There was a text from her when I got off the plane. “Gina, it’s not going to work. Don’t try it.” There was another, longer text a few minutes later in which she talked about the FBI and taking minors across state lines. I couldn’t bear to think about it. The only thing I could see now was Alexi pleading with me to help.
“Alexi, I live in California. That’s a long way from here.”
That may have fazed her a little but not for long. She seemed determined to stay with me no matter where I lived. I looked at her for several long seconds.
“Okay. If you’re coming with me, then we need to get going.”
She gave a slight smile when I said that.
“But you have to remember this is only temporary. At some point, after we’ve talked to the lawyers and the counselors, we will have to be back in touch with your family—at least your mother. This has to be resolved in the right way.”
She nodded okay. She may or may not have understood what I was talking about when I elaborated on what I knew about the legal procedures and all the things that had to be resolved. None of that had much impact on her. As long as I wasn’t going to abandon her, she seemed willing to do whatever I asked.
“First, I need to see your phone.” As she handed it to me, I asked her for her mother’s cell phone number. As she gave it to me, I could see the questions on her face.
“I know you don’t want to hurt your mother…” The alarmed look in her eyes told me I was right. “So we need to let her know that you haven’t been kidnapped, or, in an accident, or something like that. Is that all right?”
She nodded yes. She waited as I typed in a message:
Mom
I have to go away for a few days, and I don’t want you to be worried. I’m safe, and I will contact you as soon as I feel that I can. Please don’t try to reach me. If you want to know why I left, you should talk to Dad.
Love, Alexi
“You want to write it just like that?” she asked.
“Is there something you want to change?”
Alexi nodded. “The last line—I never call him Dad, and she knows it.” She stared out the window, maybe staring into her own thoughts. “If I were to write it that way, she wouldn’t think it was from me.”
“How about if I change the wording to ‘your husband?’”
She thought about that for a second and nodded yes. I modified the wording of the message and looked at it again to make sure I hadn’t left anything out. Then I pushed the send button. There was a slight whoosh, and the message jumped up to the sent portion of the screen. I saw the serious look on her face. We both knew then that there was no going back.
If Alexi hadn’t already known the seriousness of what we doing, she would have realized it after seeing what I did next. We needed to cut off communication—at least temporarily. I opened the cover of her phone and removed the batteries. I stuffed them in my pocket. I’m no expert on cell phones, but I know they give off a signal that can be traced whether the phone is on or not. I didn’t know how soon anyone would try to find us, but probably the first thing they’d do is look for the cell phone’s signal. I didn’t want her phone leaving behind a little trail of electronic breadcrumbs.
www
I started the engine and pulled back on to the freeway, heading west on Interstate 70, hoping that we could get as close to Kansas City as possible before we’d have to find a place to stay for the night. The drive was long and tedious. After we left Indiana, we headed west across southern Illinois in the direction of St. Louis and the Mississippi River. We crossed the river without any fanfare and stayed on the freeway that skirted St. Louis; from then on it was just a straight line west across the width of Missouri. The rolling farmlands didn’t change very much. But with the sun in my eyes and a lifetime of thoughts that were about to spill out of my head, I didn’t pay much attention to the scenery.
I’d gone over what I wanted to say to Alexi and how I wanted to say it. I needed to tell her about me, about her, and about everything that had thrown us together. But it wasn’t going to be easy. There was no logical starting point—no way to get from here to there along a nice straight path. Nothing I said would make sense without me explaining something else first, and the likelihood was that it would all come out in one big, incomprehensible rush. I talked a little bit as we drove, not saying much, probably frustrating her by focusing on little things.
We had just passed Columbia, Missouri. I was hungry and tired, and I guessed Alexi was too. I began looking for places to stay, eyeing a few of the chain motels that started appearing along the side of the highway. I wasn’t sure which one to pick. I sensed that Alexi was getting anxious.
“Gina, can I ask you a question?”
“Of course.” I glanced at her and saw that she was all seriousness.
“Are you my real mother?”
I was glad I had a good grip on the wheel because otherwise we might have had an accident.
We were near an exit with a hotel a few hundred feet up the frontage road, so I moved quickly into the right lane and turned off the freeway. I pulled into the parking lot without paying much attention to the name on the sign. It was just a place to stop. We would check into the room and then go to the little restaurant next door. We needed to get a booth—hopefully somewhere away from the other patrons.
“Alexi, after we sit down, we can talk.”
Davey
“I’m just so worried.”
Those were the first words out of her mouth as he walked through the door. It was about an hour after she called, but she hadn’t calmed down at all.
“Does your husband know about this?”
“Yes.
I think he’s down there talking to Mr. Blaiseck right now—at least, that’s what he says he’s doing. He told me not to worry, because they would handle it. But I’m scared—I don’t know what’s going on. I asked if they’d called the police, and he just sort of brushed me aside. Davey, I don’t know what to do!”
“You did the right thing to call me.”
Her eyes were red from crying. He hoped she’d had a chance to think things through—maybe even figure out why it had happened. She was still as upset as she was earlier, but a touch of wariness had crept into her voice. She welcomed him into kitchen and poured him a cup of coffee. He asked her to tell him everything, starting at the beginning.
Susan stopped for a second to focus her thoughts.
“I got a text message last evening from Alexi, saying that she wasn’t coming home and asking me not to try and find her. I was shocked when I saw it—I still am.”
He nodded. He could see how hard it must have hit her.
“I was so upset, that I didn’t notice the time on the message until later. It looks like it was sent at eleven forty a.m., but I didn’t check my phone until around seven when I was fixing dinner. The only reason I looked then was because Alexi wasn’t home.”
“Do you know where she was supposed to be at the time she sent it?”
“No, I’m not sure.”
“Did you try to reply to the message?”
“I did, but the message didn’t go through. After a few moments, I got an error message back saying that the phone was ‘not in service at this time.’”
Through the Bookstore Window Page 11
