by Keri Lake
“What is that?”
“You.”
With a mirthless laugh, I push off him, and slip my leg back into my panties and sweats. “You find my son? I’ll give you whatever the hell you want.”
The second the waistband hits my hips, my body swings around until I’m lying flat on my back against the couch cushions, with Voss holding my arms down. The look on his face is a cross between determination and insanity, and the distressing part in all of this is, I’m too exhausted to care which one has consumed him more. “You promise me. Right now. You’ll give me whatever I want, when I find him. And I promise you, I will get him back to you.”
“Why? Why do you even care? Why are you doing this?”
“Because I realized something last night. Maybe it was a drunken mistake for you, Nola. But for me? It was a wakeup call. The first time I felt something real. And I’m not going to just let that go. I’m not letting you go now.”
“Help me find my son, and every part of me will belong to you.” I clench my teeth to keep my jaw from quivering with more tears. I can’t take anymore tears. “Every. Part.”
* * *
The window in my studio is cracked just enough to let in a chill breeze, as I sit wrapped in a blanket with my knee hiked up on the wide ledge. Across from me, Voss sits leaning back against the wall, his leg also kicked up on the ledge, while he stares back at me in silence.
I reach forward, stealing the cigarette dangling from his fingertips, and suck in a drag. “How old were you when Nora was abducted?” I ask, handing it back to him.
His brows flicker with his troubled expression, and he sets the cigarette to his lips, his cheeks caving with an inhale. If not for my preoccupations, I’d be enthralled by the way he looks right now, casually sexy and dangerous in his white tank that clings to his body, his muscles poking through the fabric.
But I can’t think about that right now. All that consumes my thoughts is Oliver, and Nora is just a momentary distraction to keep from sinking again.
“Seventeen.” He glances toward the window beside him, his eyebrows cut to a severe angle, jaw rigid with tension. “I was tall and skinny. Weak.”
“I can’t picture that.” I reach again, fiending for more of the nicotine that helps settle my nerves. “I couldn’t imagine you as anything but strong.”
“There was a time I wasn’t. Your sister, though … she gave me the courage to fight back that day.”
“Nora was always good for that.” I offer a slight smile and stare out at the light snow falling outside the window. In the reflection, I catch the mess of my studio, and I turn, taking in the destruction of the room. “I’ve ruined everything.”
“Everything is replaceable.”
“Not everything, Voss.”
“Everything that matters isn’t, you’re right. But you don’t have to worry about that, Nola. I’m not going to fail you, or Oliver.”
“I start to slip, you know?” The rims of my eyes sting, telling me I still have more tears to cry. I don’t even know how that’s possible, except that the body must house an endless reserve for mothers who lose their children. “I start to believe all this hope you’re throwing at me, and ... just … tell me if it’s a lie. Tell me if it isn’t true. It’s okay. I’ll deal with the pain.”
His cheeks cave again, just before he smashes the cigarette into the ashtray between us. “I gain nothing by lying to you.”
“And what do you gain, otherwise?”
“The one thing that isn’t replaceable for me.” His eyes are on me, hot and intense, and I can’t even look up at him, as much as I want to right now.
“I meant what I said before. There’s nothing I won’t give to have my son back.”
“There’s nothing I won’t give for what I want, either.” He sits forward and his finger hooks my chin, lifting my gaze to his. “So, you can bet your ass I’m going to do everything in my power to make sure I deliver your son.”
* * *
Warm water beats across my skin as I stand in the hot shower. It’s the first I’ve been able to enjoy in a while, and only because I know Voss is downstairs. I’ll admit that I do feel safer, stronger, more hopeful with him around, though I remember reading an article once, that terrorists sometimes pull the same tactic—giving someone hope only to rip it away, or use it as a cruel act of torment.
I want to believe he’s here for all the reasons he claims, because the alternative is a black void I can’t see past, which I’m assuming is death.
The water helps me think, helps clear my head, so I can weed through my emotions to get to what I need to do to find my son. Jonah texted me this morning, letting me know he was following up on another lead. A lot of locals calling in have good intentions, but in many cases, they’ve sent him on a chase after someone who just didn’t pan out.
Later this afternoon, I might visit the diner to pick up my paystub and ask if anyone’s heard anything about Harvey, or Beth. The video on Beth’s phone still leaves me feeling sick to my stomach, but Voss thinks there’s a link between them and the one who took Oliver, so I’ll not give up on that.
I won’t give up.
Voss was right. The only one in this world who shouldn’t give up on Oliver is me. If he’s still alive, I need to keep my shit together. To save the emotional moments for when, and only when, that’s no longer a fact.
Hope is a dangerous thing. Fleeting and unreliable, but it’s all I have right now.
I finish up in the shower, and find Voss standing in the bedroom doorway, when I exit the bathroom.
His gaze dips to the towel wrapped around me, but his eyes aren’t burning with lust when they lift back up, instead reminding me of the way one might glance upon a wound to be sure it isn’t actively bleeding. “I’m going to look into something.”
“I think I might stop at Duli’s. Grab my paystub,” I say, rounding him into the room.
“Can’t Dale mail it, or bring it to you?”
“I have to get out of this house, Voss, or I’m going to lose my mind. I have to feel like I’m moving. If I don’t, I’m going to lose myself, and Oliver can’t afford for me to lose myself. I’m not going to be there late.”
He strides across the room, coming to a stop in front of me, and grips both of my shoulders. “You keep your GPS on. If I find you wandering off somewhere, I’m coming after you, hear?”
“I’ll keep it on. Just … please, let me know if you have something. Anything, no matter how insignificant it may seem to you.”
“You’ll be the first.” He leans forward and kisses me more tenderly than he ever has before.
Since last night, I’ve noticed a change in him. As though something snapped inside of him, he seems much more … compassionate? He insisted on making me breakfast, and hasn’t once tried to turn this into some kind of excuse for sex.
Perhaps his way of giving me space.
Once he’s left, I hate to admit that I miss the contact. His hands on my shoulders and the assurance he oozes with his presence alone. I miss the security of someone else being here.
Even when Jonah stayed with me those first few days, I felt alone and isolated. Voss has forced me to be present, to be more aware.
To be more hopeful.
* * *
Part of me dreads going into the diner. I abhor the sympathy. The hugs. The offer to pray for Oliver and me. I don’t want prayers. I want my son. And I don’t want to face all these people, but I know I have to, for Oliver’s sake. If I don’t, I’ll become my mother, lost in her own world, shutting everyone out.
That doesn’t help Oliver, and it sure won’t help me.
My stomach twists as I make my way to the front door and enter the diner, which goes almost silent, the moment I’m inside. Only the sizzle of whatever is cooking on the grill and the ring of the front door tells me time hasn’t completely stopped.
Just breathe, Nola.
Carrying a pot of coffee in each hand, Lara comes to a stop alongside me
and kisses my cheek. “Good to see you, honey.”
Conversation slowly resumes again, and the tight clench of my muscles eases.
Dale rounds the counter, hands on his hips, and lowers his gaze. “Nola, I know you ain’t one for mushiness, and all that, but damn, it’s good to see you. How you been?”
“I’m okay.” I’m not okay, but I wouldn’t have him believe anything else. “You heard anything on Beth and Harv?”
“Not a peep. Just the news reporting them missing, but that’s becoming a regular thing around here lately. Jonah ain’t said anything? I mean, no leads?”
“No. That’s all I know, too.”
“And … nothing on Oliver … yet?”
The sound of his name outside of home feels strange to me. Wrong. Not like Dale hasn’t asked about Oliver before, but the circumstances leave me somewhat defensive. Fighting to hold back tears.
“Nothing yet.” I clear my throat and divert my undoubtedly red-rimmed eyes that suddenly sting.
“Just crazy that he up and left like that, you know?” He rubs his jaw and shakes his head. “Doesn’t make sense. Well, you learn something, you be sure to tell us.”
I breathe a sigh, as Shay saunters up to give me a quick squeeze. “I will. Just wanted to get some fresh air and pick up my stub.”
“Sure. I’ll go grab that.”
With a nod, I lean against the counter and dare myself to look at the others around me. The normal people. The ones who don’t go to bed every night wondering if their child is still alive. If they’re still considered a family. Or human, for that matter. That’s when I catch sight of Simon, sitting in his usual booth. On instinct, I check the time, noting it’s his usual.
He gives a slight smile and waves.
Pushing off the counter, I shove my hands into the pocket of my jeans and make my way over to his booth.
“Hey … Nola. I … I heard about Oli. Gosh, you must be so worried.”
“Yeah. I’m … I am.”
“I hope they find him soon.”
“Me, too.” Breathing hard through my nose, I frown and clear my throat to dismiss the tug of my heart. “Hey, have you seen, or heard, anything about Beth and Harv?”
“No. No, I haven’t. It’s been … quiet around here.”
I glance around the restaurant at the patrons, any one of which could end up on the news this week. “All these people missing … just isn’t right.”
“What about Jonah? Does he have any leads? Any ideas? I mean, about this killer. The Sandman.”
“They think he might be a surgeon, or something.”
“A surgeon? Wow, that’s … impressive.”
My eyes narrow on his, and an unbridled anger burns inside of me. “Nothing about that bastard is impressive. He’s pathetic. Disgusting!”
His eyes flicker, and he lowers his gaze. “I’m sorry, Nola. I didn’t know you felt so strongly.”
“There’s a chance he might have my son. And if he does? I’ll happily watch him burn.”
Simon shifts in his seat, and I realize I’ve let the conversation get away from me. Exactly the reason I shouldn’t have left the house yet.
“I heard he … prefers women.”
“Well, I heard he doesn’t,” I snap, but not as harsh-toned as before, trying to reel it in a little.
“Your brother must be a very reliable source.”
Ignoring him, I rub the back of my neck in an effort to calm some of my frustration. I don’t mean to take it out on others, after all. “Anyway, if you hear from those two, Beth and Harv, please tell me, okay, Simon? I’m worried sick about them.”
“Of course. And, uh … same to you. If you hear anything, you’ll be sure to let me know?”
“Yes.”
Dale strolls up to the booth, handing me a white envelope that feels slightly thicker than usual. “Sorry, Nola. Got a call. Here’s your stub. And I threw in a few bucks, since you haven’t worked much this week.”
“Jesus, Dale. Really, I’m okay. I can’t take this money.”
“Shut up and take it. Not like I’m giving you my life savings. It’s just some extra to get by.” He winks and pats me on the back. “And for future reference, you can call me Dale.”
For the first time in a week, I crack a smile and lean my head against Dale’s shoulder. “I’ll be back soon. I promise. I’m going to go. I just wanted to say hi to you all.”
“Take care, Nola. I look forward to seeing you again soon,” Simon says quietly from across the booth.
“Same.”
Dale walks me to the door, but at a flare of a flame from the kitchen, he startles. “Oh, hell, I forgot my patties!”
He rushes back toward the kitchen, and I see him through the serving window, spraying the flame with an extinguisher, until it’s completely out and only the lingering smoke of the carbon dioxide remains. “Son of a bitch!” He waves off the smoke and coughs, setting the tank onto the counter.
With an empathetic smile, I offer a wave, which he returns, and exit the building.
The envelope holds about two hundred bucks, which I shove into my side-strap purse. As shitty as the world can be, sometimes, one thing is certain: I’ve somehow amassed an incredible group of friends and family that remind me of the good that still exists. Which also reminds me that I need to call Jonah. Being at odds with my brother doesn’t happen all that often these days, and even if a part of me still blames him for what went down, it just feels wrong to keep my distance from him and Diane.
On my way to the car, a vehicle in the lot catches my eye and breaks through my thoughts. Parked off toward the back in broad daylight, as if it should there. As if it hasn’t been missing all this time.
White panel van. Separated from all the other cars across the lot.
I glance around, taking note that there’s no one else walking about the lot, and keep on past my car, toward the van. Slipping the canister of pepper spray from my purse, I flip the top of it, carrying it concealed in my palm as I approach the vehicle. As I stride up to the empty driver’s seat, I peer in to see the Hula girl sitting on the dash, confirming it’s Harv’s van. Confusion and a small bit of fear swirl in my gut, the kind of wicked stirrings that tell me to go back into the restaurant and get Dale to call the police.
But it’s broad daylight. In a very public parking lot. If the killer happens to be inside the vehicle, and he supposedly kidnaps women at night—hence the moniker—surely, someone will have seen him.
I knock on the window. “Beth?”
The passenger seat is empty, as well, and I’m too short to see beyond the front. Even standing on tiptoes only lets me catch a glimpse of the box that’s placed between the captain’s chairs. If it’s not their van, I’m going to feel like an ass nosing around someone’s wheels.
At the back of the vehicle, I tug on the lever, and it clicks open. One quick glance around the empty lot, and I pop the back door open.
My heart skids to a halt.
The air whooshes out of me, and I tumble backward.
On the bed of the van, Beth and Harv lie side by side. An unhealthy pale blue tint tells me they’re dead. A flower rests in Beth’s grasp.
A scream rips through my chest.
Feels like minutes pass, but maybe it’s only second before arms wrap around my middle.
Dale’s standing behind me, alongside Shay and Lara and half the damn restaurant. “Oh, dear God,” Dale says. “Dear God.”
Arms tug me away from the van, but it’s too late. Their dead, lifeless bodies are seared into my memories. I don’t even know who clutches me next, but I turn and sob into a random shoulder. Didn’t think myself capable of shedding one more tear, after how much I’ve cried this week, but I do, and the stranger strokes my hair. I glance up to see Simon, staring on toward the macabre.
“You’re trembling, Nola. Let me give you a ride home. You shouldn’t be here.”
I should probably take him up on the offer, but I shake my head. “No. I �
� have someone I can call.” The cold numb feeling spreads through my body, down to my limbs, and I would have to guess I’m in shock.
Dale walks up to me with tears in his eyes. In all the years I’ve worked at the diner, I’ve never seen tears in Dale’s eyes. “Let me get you out of here, Nola. You don’t need more of this.”
“It’s … I don’t … I’m …” I try to catch my breath between words, but the tight grip of my lungs seems to be getting tighter.
“Come on. Come with me.” He’s more insistent, setting a hand on my shoulder as he studies me through tears. “You shouldn’t be driving.”
“No. I’m okay. I can … drive myself.”
“You look pale, though. It’s no trouble.”
“Someone should be here when the police arrive,” Simon interrupts, glancing toward the van and back. “I imagine they’ll have some questions for you.”
Dale stares back at Simon for a moment, the look in his eyes a cross between understanding and disappointment. “You’re right. I should stay here for any questions. You’ll help her to her car then?”
“Of course,” Simon responds, guiding me back the other way. “C’mon, Nola. You need to catch your breath.”
With a nod, I allow Simon to walk me back toward my vehicle, and he opens the door, helping me sit down in the driver’s seat.
“What the hell is happening?” I stare off at the pavement, my eyes so weary, I still can’t see past a blur. It’s as if I’ve spent the whole week looking through glassy, unfocused eyes. “Who would do such a horrible thing?”
“Well, on the upside, Harv won’t harass you anymore.”
At his comment, I frown, and when I meet his gaze, he flinches.
“Sorry. Too soon.”
I feel numb, and it’s then it occurs to me, I’ve never seen a dead body in person before. It’s a bit like catching the tail end of a horrific story, the compelling need to know what happened to them chipping away at my brain. I can’t distract my thoughts from how disturbingly at peace the two of them looked, as though they upped and decided to lie down together and stop breathing.
