His dad ignored the question but gestured to Mia with a nod of his head. “Okay, she can stay for tonight. But I’m going to do an online search. I’m sure someone is looking for her.”
No one was looking for her, though. Nothing came up about a missing child from Wisconsin, and even when his dad widened the search, there weren’t any missing girls fitting her description. Even though Mia was tiny, Jacob’s dad estimated she was about three years old.
As the days and weeks went by, his father made multiple arguments against keeping her, but his objections weakened over time. Mia didn’t say much at first, but sometimes she made sounds, and one of them, in response to being asked her name, sounded like “Mia,” so that was what they called her. Every time she got sick his dad worried that she’d need a prescription, but that never happened. Mia almost never got sick, and when she did, it was just the sniffles. His mother said it was because she was safe in their home and didn’t come into contact with other children. “She’s away from all those nasty germs.” She’d pat Mia on the head. “You are one lucky girl, you know that?”
At first his mother seemed to cherish Mia, calling her endearing nicknames, fussing over her, and dressing her up in cute little girls’ clothing, but after six months or so, she appeared to tire of the whole thing. When she discovered Mia’s eagerness to please, she put her to work doing chores around the house. With each passing month, Mia’s work increased. She never complained, just did what was asked of her, always with good cheer and a smile on her face.
Years later Jacob read a story about Marie Antoinette traveling in her carriage with her entourage. When they’d paused at a poor village, she’d spotted a cute little boy and decided she wanted him, so she took him to live at the palace. In the story, Marie Antoinette had treated the child like a beloved pet, but she’d lost interest when she began to have children of her own. The similarities between the queen and his mother were uncanny. He knew that someday she’d tire of Mia, and then what? He shuddered at the thought.
Once he’d heard his parents arguing about what would happen when Mia got older. A week or so after Mia had come to stay with them, his dad had said, “What are you going to do when she gets old enough to ask questions? At some point she’ll want to go outside and see the world. What then?”
His mother scoffed. “You worry for nothing. Mia barely talks, and she’s content. She’s happy here and does what she’s told. She can’t want what she doesn’t know about.”
“Well then what if someone else finds out she’s here and wants to know where she came from? You can’t explain away a human being, Suzette.”
“Oh, Matt.” She shook her head. “Now you’re just dreaming up bad scenarios. You might as well ask, What if a tornado wipes out the house? Or what if the roof caves in? Life is uncertain, and anything could happen. Why dwell on the negative? You should try to be positive, like me.”
“So you have no plans for her future? No idea of what you’ll do when we’re found out?”
“Who’s going to tell?” His mom absentmindedly ran a finger over the beads of her necklace. “None of us, certainly. And Mia can’t, so that’s no problem.”
“I can’t believe you think this is fine and it will go on forever. You have your head in the clouds, Suzette. I’m not going to prison for kidnapping because you’ve lost your mind.”
“No one is going to prison,” she said dismissively. “If the worst happens, we can always drop Mia off back where we found her. No harm done. It’s not like she can give details about our family. She doesn’t even know where she is. She only knows a few words: dog, yes, no, Mia. How could they possibly trace her back to us?”
“She might know a lot more than that.” His dad frowned. “Mia doesn’t say much, but she listens. Who knows how much she comprehends?”
“Well, if you’re that concerned, we can always give her the guinea pig treatment.” His mom got up out of her chair and smoothed the front of her pants. “Or maybe you and your girlfriend can adopt her.” She sauntered out of the room then, having gotten the last word.
Jacob, who’d been listening from the other room, had a tremor of anxiety at hearing his mother’s words. She’d talked about his father having a girlfriend before, so that was nothing new, just one of her mean, untrue comments meant to rattle his dad, and Jacob too. It was the mention of the guinea pig treatment that made him gasp. He’d had a guinea pig when he was in third grade, a cute little fellow named Duffy. He was tan and white and lived in a cage in Jacob’s room. Jacob had been endlessly fascinated by Duffy, watching him run on his wheel and taking him out to pet him.
His mother had not been as enamored of his guinea pig. She complained about the smell and the noises Duffy made. The sight of the wood shavings Duffy had kicked out of his cage onto the tabletop made her furious. Truthfully, Jacob didn’t clean out the cage as often as he should have, but he was a kid. Besides, it was his room. If anyone had a problem with the mess or the noise, it should have been him.
One day he came home from school to find Duffy missing from his cage with the door slightly ajar. He frantically looked in the cage and then in his room, calling Duffy’s name to no avail. Even though Jacob was a big boy, he began to cry. He went to his mother, who wasn’t too alarmed, but she silently followed him into his room.
“See,” Jacob said, stepping aside to let her see the cage. “He’s not here. He was here this morning, and now he’s gone.”
“I see that.” Her brow furrowed. “You must have left the cage door open. Was your bedroom door shut today?”
“No.” Her comment about the cage door puzzled him. He was sure he’d closed the door and then secured it, but doubt sank in. Could he have forgotten?
He and his mother did a cursory search throughout the house, his mother actually getting on her hands and knees to look under the furniture. When his dad came home, he joined the hunt. “I don’t think he could have gone too far,” his dad said, focusing on the bedrooms upstairs. Finally, his father suggested leaving the cage on the floor with the door open. “Maybe he’ll get hungry and come back.”
“What a good idea,” his mom said, nodding in approval.
That night, Jacob heard the sound of his parents arguing from behind their closed bedroom door. He couldn’t make out what they were saying until he went into the hallway and caught his mother saying, “Well, maybe if you’d fixed the latch on the screen door, this wouldn’t have happened.”
“You’d have me believe a guinea pig went down the stairs and somehow pushed open the screen door and went outside?” His father sounded incredulous. “Tell me, Suzette, what really happened?”
“How should I know?” Jacob heard the scowl in her voice. “I helped Jacob look. He was so distraught. I felt so terrible for him.”
Jacob never saw Duffy again. Eventually he and his father had cleaned out the cage and put it in the basement. He hadn’t thought about Duffy in a long time, but hearing her talk about the guinea pig treatment, he felt all the pieces click together in his brain. How much she’d complained about Duffy. The cage door he was sure he’d secured. The fact that Duffy had mysteriously disappeared.
He’d always suspected his mother was capable of anything, and now he was sure it was true. He hoped that she’d given Duffy away rather than let him go loose outside. He wouldn’t put it past her, though.
Now Mia interrupted his thoughts. “Jacob, what are you gonna make for dinner?”
“I don’t know. What do you want?”
“A hot dog?”
Jacob knew there were hot dogs and buns in the freezer, in the bottom of the drawer underneath some other stuff. His mother probably didn’t even remember they were there. “Okay, you got it. It’s kind of early for supper, but if you want I could make it now. What do you think?”
“Yes, please.”
“Your wish is my command, little one.”
“Oh, Jacob, you’re the best person in the world.” She let out a small sigh, happy for now.
<
br /> He couldn’t help but smile. The best person in the world? It was a huge compliment, and he should have been pleased, but all he could think was that Mia knew only three people in total, so it wasn’t much of a competition.
Chapter Eighteen
Morgan had been missing for almost four years before they heard anything at all. It was a weekday evening in July, and they were doing the usual after-work activities. Edwin was at the stove cooking dinner, while Wendy sat at the kitchen counter with her tablet answering emails, when the police detective rang the doorbell.
Edwin turned from sautéing the vegetables to share a puzzled look with Wendy. “I’ll get it,” she said, sliding off her stool to go to the front door. She’d been expecting the in-person equivalent of spam, maybe a local kid raising funds for their sports team or a home security firm ready to give a sales pitch, so it was surprising to see Detective Moore standing on her front porch, a serious expression on his face.
“Mrs. Duran?” he said, and his apologetic tone made her heart sink.
“Yes?” Wendy found herself sucking in her breath as if she might need it later. “You have news about Morgan?” In an instant she heard the sound of her own heartbeat pounding in her ears. She clutched the side of the doorframe for support.
Instead of answering, he asked, “Is your husband home? I’d like to talk to you both.”
She nodded. “Please come in.” She left him standing on the front rug while she went to get Edwin.
Once they were all seated in the living room, Edwin took the lead. “You have news about our daughter?” He gave Wendy’s hand a gentle squeeze. Never had she felt so grateful for his calming touch.
“I do.” He had a leather-bound case in his hand, the size of a binder, something she hadn’t noticed before, and he opened it now and rummaged inside.
Wendy couldn’t stand waiting any longer. “She’s dead, isn’t she?” Saying the words aloud made her die a little inside, but she had to know.
“Ma’am, I don’t know that.” He pulled out something the size of a business card and got up to show to them. “Can you confirm that this is Morgan’s driver’s license?”
Edwin took it and held it in the palm of his hand, while Wendy moved closer to look on. It was clearly Morgan’s driver’s license—the one she’d been so happy to get at age seventeen. At the time Morgan had complained about the picture, but Wendy had thought she looked beautiful.
Edwin looked up. “Yes, this is our daughter’s license.”
“Was she in an accident?” Wendy asked.
“No.” The detective shifted in his seat. “It was found during an investigation over in Ash County. A landlord there filed a police report regarding a conflict with a tenant. He said the tenants were overdue with the rent, and when he went to confront them, the man pulled out a handgun and took a shot at him. He missed, fortunately. By the time the sheriff’s department went out to investigate, the tenants had left and the place was trashed. They found the license among the things left behind.”
Ash County? Wendy processed the idea that her daughter had been in Wisconsin all along, that it was even possible she’d never left the state.
“Do you think she was held against her will?” Edwin asked a question that hadn’t even occurred to Wendy.
“We don’t have a lot of information, but it doesn’t sound like it. The tenants were a young couple. It was a cash deal, and the landlord wasn’t very helpful. Looking at the driver’s license, he couldn’t positively confirm the woman was Morgan, but he said it might have been. He couldn’t give much in the way of a description of the guy, and he only knew his first name. Keith?” Detective Moore raised his eyebrows. “I believe that was the name of Morgan’s boyfriend?”
So much to take in that Wendy felt as if she were being pummeled by words. Faintly she said, “Yes, his name was Keith.”
“I have a copy of the police report, if you’re interested.”
Edwin said, “We’d like that, thank you.”
“Thank you,” Wendy repeated, but the words were hollow.
Could it really have been Morgan? Running out on a landlord and leaving a place trashed? Morgan and her brother had had a good upbringing. Wendy and Edwin had lived to make sure of that. How many times had Edwin said, “I just want our kids to be happy.” Maybe they’d been too permissive? It was such a hard call.
Wendy didn’t want to think her daughter would be living this kind of life, but the truth was she really didn’t know.
Detective Moore met her eyes. She’d thought he was as young as Morgan, in his twenties, but the crinkles around his eyes and his look of compassion made her realize that he might be older. “Again, I’m sorry I don’t have more information.”
“Did the landlord know if the couple was married? Or did he know if they were employed?” Wendy asked.
He shook his head. “Once you read the report, you’ll know everything I know. I came right over because I thought it was important to give you this update.”
“Of course,” Edwin said. “And we very much appreciate it.” He glanced down at the license. “Can we keep this?”
“Absolutely.” He returned his attention to the leather case and finally pulled out a few sheets of paper. “This is a copy of the police report. You can keep that as well.”
Edwin reached over to take it. “Thank you.”
Detective Moore said, “I’ll leave you to it, then. If you have any other questions, feel free to call.” He stood. “Not saying I’ll know the answers, but if I can find out for you, I definitely will.”
They followed him to the front door, thanking him again for coming out.
Detective Moore turned to say one last thing. “Just so you know, we haven’t forgotten Morgan. I think about her all the time, in fact. We’re just limited in what we can do, given the circumstances.”
“We understand,” Wendy said.
Edwin added, “We appreciate all your work on our behalf.”
After the detective left, they sat back on the couch to read the report. It was brief and worded in a businesslike way. Despite the fact that there was a gun fired at the landlord, the report lacked drama. Just the facts. Wendy noted that the listed date of the altercation was only four days earlier. She wasn’t familiar with the town, but a quick Google search showed it to be a two-hour drive from their house.
Once they finished reading, Edwin said, “So in theory she could have been only two hours away from us four days ago.”
“In theory?” Wendy held up the driver’s license. “I’d say it’s more than a theory. You can’t dispute that this is Morgan’s.”
Edwin had a pensive look on his face, what Wendy called his thinking look. She was one to rush to conclusions, while he preferred to mull over all the possibilities. Generally, his approach worked better, but it still drove her crazy.
He nodded. “The license is Morgan’s, but we don’t know that the woman in question was her. Someone could have found her license or taken it from her. Identity theft happens all the time. It even could be left over from a previous tenant.”
“But the guy’s name was Keith,” Wendy argued. “That would be a major coincidence.”
“True. But it could be a different Keith, or it might be the same Keith with a different woman.”
They sat in silence for a moment until she asked quietly, “Why won’t you let me hope?”
“Oh, darling.” He pulled her into his arms. “I’m not trying to kill your hope. I’m trying to keep you from getting your heart broken.”
“It’s already broken.” She rested her head on his shoulder. “I need this, Edwin. I can’t tell you how much I need this.”
“I know.”
“I don’t think you understand.”
“I do understand. We just process things differently.” He kissed the top of her head. “I’ve got a thought. Why don’t we call the landlord and see what he can tell us?”
The landlord’s name was Craig Hartley. A phone call made
to the number on the report led to a recording. Edwin left a voice mail. “Hi, Mr. Hartley. This is Edwin Duran, and I’m interested in some information regarding your former tenants.” He asked him to return his call as soon as possible, leaving both his cell phone number and Wendy’s. After that they carried on with their evening, an uneasy feeling hovering over them.
At dinner, Wendy said, “What if he doesn’t call back?”
“It’s a little early to be worrying about that, don’t you think?”
She tilted her head to one side. “It’s not too early. It’s been years. Every minute that goes by is too long to wait.” She could tell by his silence that her point was made.
After they finished eating and cleaned up the dinner dishes, she made an announcement. “If we don’t hear back by tomorrow morning, I’m taking the day off work and getting in my car and driving to that house. I want to talk to Craig Hartley in person. If I show him Morgan’s photo, he might be able to confirm that it was her. And if it was her, I need to see where she was living four days ago.”
“So you’ve already decided that the woman was Morgan?”
She nodded. “Yes. I’ve decided based on the driver’s license and the guy’s name being Keith. Besides that, I need to believe it was Morgan. It’s the first scrap of information we’ve gotten that points to the fact that she’s still alive. I’m going. You can’t talk me out of it.”
“Well, if you’re going, I’m going too. We’ll do it together.”
It was midmorning when they arrived. Craig Hartley hadn’t returned Edwin’s call, so Wendy had tried again, leaving another message that morning, this time specifying that she thought the woman in question might be their daughter who’d been missing for several years. She thought that maybe he might be sympathetic to a mother’s heartache, but she knew it was just as likely that he didn’t care one way or the other. After all, the couple had skipped out on the rent and fired a gun at him.
The address for the house was listed as Quiet Creek Road, but the road transitioned from paving to gravel at some point, and the ride was bumpy. “Talk about being off the beaten path,” Edwin murmured. When they got to where the road dead-ended, there was only one structure in sight, a house so ramshackle that Wendy couldn’t imagine anyone living there.
The Moonlight Child Page 12
