What She Left (Martina Monroe Book 1)

by H K Christie

  “I’m glad you’re here,” I said weakly.

  “Will you be okay if I grab a coffee?”

  I nodded. “Of course. I’m so sorry, I should’ve gotten you something. I just wasn’t thinking straight.”

  He came over and placed his hand on my shoulder. “Martina, it’s okay. We’ll get you through this. I don’t want to hear you apologize. I’ll be back in two shakes. I just need some caffeine, cool?”

  “Cool.” I picked up my coffee cup with shaking fingers and took a sip. I placed it back down and realized I probably should have ordered an herbal tea rather than the coffee, but for some reason caffeine was calling my name. I fidgeted as I waited the short amount of time it took for Rocco to pay for his coffee and bring it back over to the table.

  He sat down, placing his helmet on the empty chair next to him. To most, he was a big bad biker-dude, and in some ways he was, but not in a negative way. He was in fact an ex-Hells Angel and ex-felon, but he was also my AA sponsor. My Savior. My rock. He was the only person who could talk me down off the ledge, or away from the bottle. It had been nine months since my accident and I had admitted that I had a problem with alcohol. Rocco was tough on me, but that’s exactly what I needed. He sat down and took a long sip of his coffee before leaning back. “So you want to tell me what’s going on?”

  “I had to return to Stone Island for a case I’m working. I knew it would trigger me, being back there, but it’s my first actual case since before the accident and I don’t want to screw it up. I haven’t been to the island since the summer before I went into the Army. Between my family and what happened to Donna, I didn’t want to face it. Cowardly, I know, but here I am, triggered. I never really dealt with Donna’s disappearance. I was so young, my approach was to run, and that’s what I’ve been doing - until now. Between Kennedy and running into Donna’s brother - it’s all coming back in full force.” I bowed my head and inhaled, trying to stop the tears from falling. I needed to suck it up. I dabbed my eyes and looked back up at Rocco. “You know I still have family on the island. My mother and my brothers. My father ran off when I was in middle school. I don’t talk to them except for the Christmas cards I send to my mother. It wasn’t a terrible childhood, but it wasn’t great either. So many kids have had it worse off than me, I know that now. At the time, I was hell-bent on getting out of that trailer park and making something of myself. My best friend and I had plans for after graduation. We were going to see the world, do all the things and see all the places.” I chuckled at my naivety. “I actually did it, but my best friend, Donna, didn’t. Well, I assume she didn’t. She disappeared. The police called her a runaway, but even back then, I knew better. She wouldn’t have left without telling me.” I paused, trying to compose myself.

  Rocco reached out across the table and placed his hand on mine. “I see why you’re upset.”

  I pulled my hand back and shook my head. “No, you don’t. It’s my fault Donna was taken. We had gone out to the Boathouse Bar and Grill. It was one of our favorite places to go out and feel like grown-ups. We’d order Shirley Temples and spike them with vodka. That night we’d been drinking and eating nachos, having a great time being young and carefree, thinking that nothing could ever happen to us. A couple of older boys we’d never seen before joined us toward the end of the night. In hindsight, I’d had far too much to drink and planned to leave with one of them. I was so stupid back then. Donna wasn’t so into the other guy and declined his offer to go somewhere more quiet. Being a drunk teen, I half-heartedly said I’d stay behind and walk home with Donna. Donna insisted I go have fun, and she’d walk home. We hugged, and I went off with the boy. I never saw her again. I should’ve never left her there alone.”

  I stared deep into Rocco’s dark eyes.

  He tilted his head. “It’s not your fault she went missing, Martina. I know you, of all people, know that.”

  “If that’s true, then why do I feel so guilty? It’s my fault that she’s probably lying dead somewhere. You and I both know the probabilities. Thirteen years and not a word or reported sighting of her. I know she didn’t run away.”

  “The island brought all that buried guilt up to the surface,” he said.

  “That’s not all. I had a flat tire before I could get off the island. When I was on the side of the road fixing my tire, Donna’s brother spotted me. We chatted. Looking into his eyes - the same eyes that Donna had - nearly crushed me on the spot. Not only that, he told me that there’s a detective reopening the case. Not that they did much investigating the first time around. Knowing what I know now, the police basically didn’t do any sort of real investigating. They were quick to label her a wild runaway. Sure, they had asked a few locals if they had seen her that night, but that was about the extent of it. I know someone did something to her. They had to. She wouldn’t have left on her own.”

  “How do you feel about them opening up the case and trying to find out what happened to her?”

  “I guess, I’m afraid. Afraid that they’ll find her and that she’s not alive. I’ve made so many mistakes. Rocco, mistakes that can’t be undone. Donna, Julie DeSoto, my car accident… the list goes on and on.”

  “Martina, you can’t beat yourself up. It was not your fault, you were only eighteen years old. I know I’m preaching to the choir here. What would you say to you, if you were sitting in my chair? I’d think you’d say, it isn’t your fault someone took your friend. It’s the monster’s fault, not yours. You know, it sounds like what you’re experiencing is survivors’ guilt. That’ll eat you up pretty good. I’m sorry you’re feeling this way. I got my demons too, Martina, you know that. You either have to learn to let it go or do something about it so you can get some closure. I’ll tell you where you won’t find closure and that’s at the bottom of a bottle. Are we clear?”

  I nodded.

  “Say the words.”

  “Booze is not the answer. It will only make me feel worse in the end.” I raked my fingers through my pixie cut. Why was life so hard?

  “Okay, now that we’ve gotten that out of the way, any ideas of how to move forward? You have to know by now, that God kept you here for a reason. I think one of those reasons is that beautiful little girl of yours and another is because of all the people you help and will help in the future.”

  I sunk into myself. How could I possibly get past Donna’s disappearance? In my mind, the wound was still wide open. “That’s it, Rocco. If it’s open, I need to close it.”

  “I’m not sure I’m following.”

  “Don’t you see. I’m an investigator now, the case is still open - I can find out what happened to her.”

  Rocco shook his head. “Is that a good idea? Do you have the capacity? You have a lot on your plate. You have your first real case, Zoey, and yourself to take care of. That’s a lot. Maybe you can reach out to the detective working the case and lend a hand, but going it alone may be too much.”

  He was right. I couldn’t take on another full investigation on top of the Gilmore case and take care of Zoey and myself. I could find out who’s working the case. They’d want my statement anyhow. I stared at the ground, thinking of what I could do to help the case, where I could start, and where I would find the energy. Rocco’s voice knocked me out of my thoughts. “Martina, how are you feeling now?”

  I glanced up. “I feel better, more calm. I like your idea. I need to take action. Control what is within my control and all that. I’ll take care of my mind, my body, my daughter, and my job.”

  “That’s the idea, Martina.”

  “Thank you, Rocco. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

  “Just paying it forward, Martina. I know one day when you’re ready, you’ll make a great sponsor - mark my words. Now that you’re feeling good and have a general plan, do you know what your next steps are going to be?”

  “I do.” Not only was I going to find Amelia and figure out why Charlotte Gilmore’s past was as buried as a pirate’s treasure, but I was also
going to find out what happened to Donna.

  8

  Martina

  I ran my fingers through my hair as I contemplated the results of the background check I had performed on Charlotte Gilmore, maiden name Charlotte Jamison. It made little sense. It was as if she didn’t have a past before she had become Charlotte Gilmore. That’s impossible, everyone has a past.

  She told her daughter she was from Pennsylvania, but there was no record of a Charlotte Jamison in Pennsylvania, matching her age and date of birth. I tried multiple spellings of the last name Jamison to see if I had recorded it wrong.

  According to Kennedy, Charlotte had moved to California in the late 1960s. Record keeping in the sixties wasn’t great and certainly not electronic. Was it possible that she just happened to not leave a trail from her trek across the United States, where she ended up settling down with a husband and daughter for over thirty years?

  Something in my gut was telling me there was more to it than that. I had a hunch it wasn’t just a matter of lost records. I heard the printer spit out the last page of the list of high schools in Pennsylvania, starting with a ‘C’. There were far more than I had expected. I pushed myself off the seat and walked over to the printer, grabbed the pages, and headed back to my cubicle. Firmly planted in my seat, I flipped through the pages and thought about my next steps.

  What if Charlotte hadn’t been from Pennsylvania and everything she’d told Kennedy had been a lie? She could have been from anywhere. The best, and only, lead I had was the class ring. It was old and worn, but the ‘C’ across the mother-of-pearl stone in the center was distinct.

  More disturbing was the story that Charlotte’s family had died in a house fire, but so far we hadn’t found any news stories matching such an event. I had one of our interns go to a library and sift through microfiche after microfiche of news articles from the 1960s, looking for house fires in Pennsylvania. They hadn’t completed their search yet, but so far there was nothing. Had Charlotte made up her entire past and lied to her daughter all these years? And who was baby Amelia? What if we found Amelia and she wasn’t even alive anymore?

  The sound of footsteps grew louder as he approached my desk. It was that time of day. Daily debrief. Check. I glanced up at Stavros, who stood casually at the opening of my cubicle. “Hey, Stavros.”

  “How’s it going with the Gilmore case? You find out which school the ring is from?”

  “No, nothing definitive. So far I can’t find a history for Charlotte Jamison and there’s a long list of schools starting with the letter ‘C’ in Pennsylvania - and the rest of the United States. I’ll need to re-interview Kennedy and see if maybe there’s something about Charlotte’s past I’m missing. Maybe she got the last name wrong or the wrong state. Or maybe she could let me speak with her father. Maybe he knows something that he just didn’t want to share with his daughter.”

  Stavros nodded. “That is strange that you can’t find anything on her. Maybe she’s running from something or someone?”

  “That’s what I think, but until we have proof, I don’t want to tell Kennedy that. This case may uncover a lot more than the identity of the baby in the photo.”

  “Looks like it. Do you need anything from me?”

  “No, I’ve already got the interns looking into news articles from 1960 to 1970 for house fires in Pennsylvania where entire families had perished. They’re halfway through. So far nothing. Next, I’ll start requesting yearbooks once I narrow down the list of potential high schools.”

  “Another part of Charlotte’s history that can’t be verified,” He commented.

  I had a feeling I knew what Stavros was going to say. I wanted to beat him to the punch and let him know I wasn’t off my game. “You know, the absence of evidence is evidence in itself.”

  Stavros cracked a smile. “Very true. Keep up the good work, Martina. Let me know if I can be of any help.”

  “Will do. Thanks.”

  I was frustrated that I hadn’t learned more about Charlotte, but I could feel Stavros trusting me again, and I was feeling like my old self. Well, except sober. My phone buzzed. I looked down. I grinned and picked up the phone. “Hi, Claire.”

  “Hi Martina, I just want to remind you that we have the interviews with the first two candidates in about an hour. I just wanted to check to see if you’ll still be able to make it?”

  I don’t know what I was going to do without Claire. She was the best nanny anyone could ever ask for, and she was graduating from nursing school in three months. She was so good that she had even set up interviews for her replacement. Since Jared died, there was no way I could’ve done my current job if I didn’t have someone like Claire as a full-time nanny. Because she was a student and worked for us full-time, she often agreed to last-minute requests for pick-ups or drop-offs, overnights with Zoey, or for making dinner. She was a godsend. I truly believed that Claire was my angel. It sounded a little hokey, but it was true. “Yes, I’m just about to head out now. Did you need me to pick up anything for dinner?” I hoped the answer was no. I didn’t think I’d make the interview on time if I had to stop at the store or at the local pizza joint.

  “Nope, I have lasagna in the oven.”

  “Thank you, Claire. I really appreciate everything you’ve done for me and Zoey. You truly are a gift.”

  “I appreciate that, Martina. We’ll see you soon. Oh, actually…” I heard rustling and muffled voices through the line.

  “Zoey, would like to say hello. Here she is.”

  “Hi, Mommy.”

  “Hi, sweetheart. How was school?”

  “It was so great. Oh my gosh, we just found out today that we’re going to get a new pet for the classroom. Do you want to guess what it is?”

  Based on how excited Zoey was, it was probably some sort of reptile or equally slimy creature. She was fascinated by nature, especially the parts that gave me the creepy-crawlies. “A rat?”

  “Hey, how did you know?”

  Only my daughter would be excited about a rat. “Just a guess.”

  “You must’ve used your investigator skills. Were you using my modus operandi?” She emphasized the “i”.

  “I think you’re learning my secrets,” I teased.

  “One day I want to be a super-investigator just like you Mommy, that is, if I don’t become a veterinarian or an astronaut.”

  Of course. “I need to wrap things up here, but I’ll see you when I get home, okay?”

  “Okay, Mommy, I love you.”

  “I love you too, sweetheart, bye.”

  Just twenty-four hours ago I was having a complete meltdown after being on Stone Island and being faced with my past. Now that I had dove headfirst into my investigation, I was practically floating. That reminded me. I still needed to call the CoCo County Sheriff’s Department to find out who was reopening Donna’s case. It wasn’t uncommon to use civilian contractors to help with cases, so if I offered my services pro bono you’d think they would be cooperative or even grateful. Since my conversation with Rocco, I was empowered and taking action. It was my happy place.

  Next on the list, dinner and interviews for a new nanny. After that, I would figure out who Charlotte Gilmore really was, so that I could identify baby Amelia as I had promised Kennedy, and then I was going to find out what happened to Donna, whether the Sheriff’s Department wanted me to or not. I was back.

  9

  Martina

  I stepped into the hall of the church where Charlotte Gilmore’s memorial luncheon was being held. The hall had banquet tables along the walls with finger foods, pasta with red and white sauces, and a green salad. A table with beverages and cookies sat on the other side of the room. The rest of the area was set up with round tables draped with lavender table cloths and bouquets of white, pink, and lavender roses in the center. I stepped closer to the table and admired the tiny silver frames with old photos of Charlotte, with whom I presumed were friends and family. It wouldn’t be a bad idea to sit down with Kennedy an
d peruse family photo albums for additional clues into her past.

  I surveyed the hall. Kennedy hadn’t exaggerated when she’d said her mother had left many people behind that cared about her and would miss her. Cancer was devastating. Not only had it obliterated Charlotte, but parts of her family and friends as well. I watched as most mourners were clumped in groups, nobody ready to sit or touch the food yet. Most were dressed in dark clothing or in their Sunday best. It appeared to be a well-to-do group.

  I searched the crowd for Kennedy. She was easily spotted with her strawberry blonde hair tied back and wearing a black sheath dress. Her father, standing next to her, looked like he would crumble at any moment.

  My heart ached for Theodore Gilmore. I understood what he was going through. The sudden loss of a spouse was devastating. Without them by your side, you aren’t sure where you fit in the world anymore. He had probably assumed that he and Charlotte had many years ahead. Charlotte wasn’t that old, and neither was he. I would have guessed if they were healthy and took care of themselves, they could have twenty more years together. I could almost feel his pain from across the room. I had two years to find my new normal and still struggled. I empathized with Theodore, who’d had less than two weeks to try to comprehend what his life would be like without Charlotte.

  I continued toward the crowd around Kennedy, not to talk to her, which I would do later, but to check out the other guests who wanted to be by her side.

  The night before, Kennedy and I had created a game plan for me at the memorial. For starters, I needed to blend in and act as if I was just another mourner while trying to obtain more information about Charlotte’s past. I hadn’t told Kennedy about the strange fact that there were absolutely no records of Charlotte Jamison in Pennsylvania that fit her mother’s description and date of birth.