Somebody's Daughter

by David Bell

  Even though the night was slipping way, and the horizon showed the first hints of the coming dawn, she lost track of her surroundings. Jake took them into an unfamiliar neighborhood, one filled with older, slightly run-down houses and several multiunit apartment buildings. Angela noticed an unusual number of beer cans strewn in the street, and more than one porch was decorated with a sagging couch or a hammock.

  “Are we close to campus?” she asked.

  “We are.”

  “Who are we seeing, then?” she asked.

  “Someone who lives in the student ghetto.”

  He made one more turn, down a narrow alley. The moisture in the air made a hazy ring around the streetlights. The pavement was rough and cracked, jostling the car from side to side as he drove down it and finally parked behind a small house with a sagging back porch. A city Dumpster overflowed to their right. Before Jake turned the car off, a raccoon peeked over the top of the refuse pile, stared at them for a long moment, and then went back to eating somebody’s discarded pizza.

  “I don’t understand why we’re here,” Angela said. “This is where all the students live. I thought you were worried about Felicity.”

  Jake ignored her. He took out his phone and started tapping at the screen, his fingers surprisingly nimble. After he sent the message, he looked to the back of the house, which showed no light except for one sad bulb burning over the back porch. He waited.

  His phone pinged, and he typed a response. When he looked back to the house again, a light came on upstairs in the bedroom that faced the alley. Someone moved the curtains aside and looked down, then disappeared. Angela caught only a quick glimpse. A young face, brown hair.

  “We’re here to talk to a college student?” Angela asked.

  “Come on,” he said. “You’re not going to run, are you?”

  “Not yet,” she said. “But I reserve the right. And you’d never catch me.”

  “I think you’re too curious to run,” he said, unlocking the doors and pushing his own side open.

  He was right, Angela admitted to herself. So she opened her door and followed, stepping into the sticky night.

  From somewhere up the street, they heard a drunken, triumphant “whoop,” likely the last war cry of a fading frat boy. Instead of feeling nostalgia, Angela felt relief. She was glad to no longer live in a dumpy house, to no longer hear the late-night laughter and tears of near adults. She was glad to have a husband.

  If I still have him . . .

  She told herself not to think that way, not to question what she knew was true.

  Before they mounted the porch and knocked, the back door came open. The same sleepy face she’d seen in the upstairs window greeted them, a pretty college student with her hair pulled back, her eyes puffy from sleep. She wore a Gap sweatshirt and rubbed at her eyes like a small child.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked, looking at Jake. “I don’t understand.”

  “I need your help.”

  “Oh, my God,” Mary Beth said, lifting her hand to her mouth. “Do you know the police came by here earlier today and asked me for an alibi? Like I’d take a little kid or something. Can you believe that?”

  “They have to talk to everybody who knew Felicity,” Jake said. “Can we come in?”

  Mary Beth lowered her hand, and her face registered surprise when she noticed Angela standing there, as though she’d materialized out of the darkness like a ghost. “Oh,” she said. “You’re not alone.”

  “No, I’m not. Can we come in? I promise it won’t take long.”

  Mary Beth nodded and then pushed the door open, holding it wide. Jake went in and Angela followed.

  chapter

  sixty-three

  They entered the kitchen, a cramped space with stacks of dirty dishes in the sink and ten empty beer bottles on the counter next to a vase of fading flowers. Mary Beth wore no shoes, and the bottom of her shorts barely peeked out beneath the sweatshirt. She leaned back against the counter. She lifted the string from her hood to her mouth and chewed.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked Jake again, this time speaking around the string.

  “This is my friend, Angela Frazier. Angela, this is Mary Beth.”

  “Frazier?” Mary Beth said. “Are you related to Erica?”

  “No.” Angela thought of leaving it at that, but how could she? “Erica was married to my husband before he was married to me. That’s why we have the same last name.”

  Mary Beth’s eyebrows furrowed. “Oh, I see,” she said, although she appeared not to. “Why are you here in the middle of the night? I was asleep, and I have to work in the morning.”

  “You said the cops already came by here?” Jake asked.

  “Yeah. They woke me up this morning. I guess that’s yesterday morning now.” Mary Beth sounded pouty, like her being woken up was the worst crime committed that day. “They asked me a bunch of stuff about Erica. And Felicity. I guess they didn’t find her yet if you’re here asking questions.”

  “No, they didn’t.”

  Mary Beth’s eyes filled with tears and not because she’d been woken up again. “I can’t believe someone took that kid. She’s such a sweetie. Really.”

  “I know,” Jake said. “So, what did you tell the cops? Was Erica acting weird or saying anything unusual recently?”

  “Wait a minute,” Angela said before Mary Beth spoke. “Who is this? Why are we talking to her?”

  “Mary Beth babysat Felicity for the last . . . what? Two years?”

  “Three.”

  “Three years. You knew me when Erica and I were together, and then I saw you a couple of times after we broke up. You were there the day I picked Felicity up for the zoo.” He turned to Angela. “She’s in the house all the time. She’d know if something weird was going on, right?” Jake asked.

  Angela agreed even though she didn’t speak. She just nodded and waited for Mary Beth to tell her tale.

  “Yeah, but Erica told me not to talk to you. She said she didn’t want you around Felicity or the house anymore. Maybe I should call her.”

  “You don’t have to do that,” Jake said. “She’s under a lot of stress.”

  “Remember what happened the last time?” Mary Beth said, her eyes widening.

  “A misunderstanding.”

  Mary Beth looked at Angela. “He came over to the house a couple of weeks ago when I was watching Felicity and said he had to see her. You know, just to hang out.”

  “Mary Beth—”

  “So I text Erica just to see if it’s okay. Next thing I know, she’s pulling into the driveway and threatening to call the cops on him. She totally ran him out of the house. I didn’t know.”

  “He has a tendency to barge in,” Angela said. She turned to Jake. “Why didn’t she want you around Felicity?”

  “I told you at the house. She doesn’t want the paternity test.”

  “Erica said she doesn’t want Felicity confused,” Mary Beth said.

  “It’s complicated, Angela,” Jake said. “I told you she blames me for that issue with CPS.”

  “So was anything wrong with Erica or Felicity?” Angela asked Mary Beth, trying to cut to what was important.

  “Nothing was wrong,” Mary Beth said. “I mean, Erica complained about money and being a single mom. Sometimes she talked about moving away. That was it. Like I said, nothing much.” She picked up the string again but didn’t insert it into her mouth. She twirled it in her hand, her face lost in thought. “Hey,” she said, pointing at Angela. “Is your husband’s name Michael?”

  Angela nodded. “Yes. Why?”

  “Oh.” Mary Beth put the string in her mouth. “Erica mentioned him a few times, said he might be Felicity’s dad.”

  “Nobody really knows who Felicity’s biological father is,” Jake said. “Not for sur
e.”

  Mary Beth stopped talking, so Angela prompted her. “Did she say anything else about my husband?”

  “She said he was rich.” Mary Beth made a quick, uncertain shrug. “Oh, and she said his sister was in Lantern Black. I thought that was cool. Felicity sings all the time. Maybe it runs in the family.”

  Jake rolled his eyes. “Please. People get interested in music for all kinds of reasons. It’s not all genetic. I love music too.”

  “Wait a minute. . . . Do you live down in Cottonsville?” Mary Beth asked, pointing at Angela.

  “I do. Why?”

  “Oh.” Mary Beth looked embarrassed, like she’d said something she shouldn’t have.

  “What?” Angela asked, her voice sharp. She took a deep breath. “Just tell me.”

  “Okay.” Mary Beth shrugged, trying to give off the air that none of it mattered to her. “She went down there one day. Erica. She said she had a meeting. I figured it was a work thing. You know, she has a pretty good job at the credit union or whatever. I watched Felicity all day for her.” She removed the string from her mouth again and tapped her bare foot against the floor. It made a soft splatting sound. “When she came to pick Felicity up, she looked all tired and sad. She said she’d had a long day. And then . . . just kind of out of nowhere . . . she told me it was her anniversary.”

  “Of her marriage?” Angela asked.

  “No. Her divorce. Ten years. She got out a wedding picture and showed me. It was cute.”

  Angela let out a long breath. She sounded to her own ears like a hissing radiator.

  “I’m sorry,” Mary Beth said. “Should I not have mentioned that the picture was cute?”

  “It’s fine,” Angela said.

  “She put it up on Facebook later. I thought that seemed a little weird. But she told me I should always fight for what I want, that she had let too many things go in life without standing up for herself. I thought she was trying to empower me, you know? Like an older woman to a younger one?”

  “Did you tell the cops about this?” Jake asked.

  “I told them everything I knew. Yes.”

  “Did you mention me?” Jake asked.

  “Well, yeah. I said you used to date Erica, and you came around a few times after the breakup to see Felicity. And that Erica didn’t really want you around so much anymore, not since she got in trouble that time with child protective services or whatever it was. She told me you were pushing her for more time with Felicity.”

  “Why are you two still in touch at all?” Angela asked. “Erica told you he couldn’t be in Felicity’s life.”

  The house grew silent. Neither one of them spoke or attempted to answer Angela’s question.

  She grew impatient. “What?”

  Jake looked away as Mary Beth said, “I felt sorry for him. That day Erica came home and threw him out, he had tears in his eyes. Real tears. I think he just wanted to be part of Felicity’s life. He came by a little while after that. He said he just wanted to know how Felicity was doing. I promised I’d let him know if I could. You know, she’d been sick for a while. In the hospital. We just talked about that kind of stuff.”

  “Happy?” Jake asked Angela. “She kept me up-to-date on Felicity when Erica cut me off. She has a heart. No big deal.”

  “Okay, I hear you,” Angela said. “Do you mind if I use your bathroom?”

  Mary Beth looked at her for a moment as if she hadn’t understood the question. Then she said, “Yeah, it’s at the top of the stairs. My roommate, Katie, is asleep. Try not to wake her.”

  “Sure.”

  “You see?” Jake said. “I’m not a monster.”

  “Who said you were?” Angela asked, and headed up the stairs.

  chapter

  sixty-four

  Angela locked the bathroom door behind her. When she was done, she ran cold water in the sink and splashed some onto her face. Mary Beth’s words played in her head, a fascinating loop. Erica posted that photo on the tenth anniversary of their divorce. She regretted not fighting harder to hang on to Michael.

  Angela knew she’d benefited from the decisions made between Michael and his ex-wife. If things hadn’t gone the way they had between them, then what would her life be like?

  Angela took deep breaths. And Jake Little only wanted to be part of a little girl’s life, a little girl who might very well be his in every sense. Emotional. Biological. So much so, he experienced intense emotion when he thought he couldn’t see her anymore.

  “Okay,” she said. “This is going to be okay.”

  But Angela didn’t know where Michael was right then. All she knew for certain was that he was with Erica.

  And not her.

  She turned the water off and grunted in frustration. She looked around for a clean towel but didn’t see one. She’d thought girls might be neater than boys, but the bathroom was a wreck. Mold in the tub, hair in the sink. The towel she picked up, white at one time, smelled like a locker room.

  Someone knocked on the bathroom door.

  “Jake?” she asked. “Give me a minute.”

  “Who’s in there?” a woman’s voice asked.

  Angela patted her face dry and hung the towel back on the rack, promising herself she’d take a good, hot shower once she returned home. She undid the lock and pulled the door open, coming face-to-face with another female college student, no doubt the aforementioned Katie.

  Katie was taller than Angela, her long brown hair a tangled mess from sleep. She opened her eyes wide when she saw Angela standing there, and then her face shifted and became indignant. “Who are you?” she asked.

  “Are you Katie?”

  “What? Who are you? I asked first.”

  Angela saw all she needed to see. Like every member of her generation, Katie couldn’t even go to the bathroom in the middle of the night without bringing her phone. Angela stepped back and motioned to the girl. “I’m a friend of Mary Beth’s. Come in here.”

  Katie looked around, and, for a moment, Angela feared she’d call for her roommate. But then Katie rolled her eyes and stepped into the bathroom, allowing Angela to close the door behind her.

  “Are you a professor or something?” Katie asked. “Were you at that party she went to? The one at the history professor’s house?”

  “Can I use your phone?” Angela asked. “I need to call my husband.”

  Katie shrugged, but her face remained suspicious. “I guess so.” She handed it over after entering the passcode.

  Angela dialed Michael’s number from memory and listened to it start to ring. “Thanks.” It rang and rang and then went to voice mail. “Shit,” she said.

  What should she do next? Call Gail and have her keep trying Michael?

  “Who are you really?” Katie asked. “I swear, Mary Beth always brings somebody random home with her.”

  “Do you know the woman Mary Beth babysits for? Erica? I’m . . . well, not exactly friends with her, but . . . I kind of know her.”

  “Did they find that girl yet?” Katie asked.

  “No. She’s still missing.”

  “The cops wanted to talk to me too. I babysat for her once when MB was sick.”

  “What did you tell them?” Angela asked.

  “Nothing. I was at work, and they said they’d come back later. The mom, Erica, she was kind of intense. Cute kid, though. That’s what’s so sad. She reminds me of my boyfriend’s little sister. She’s twelve.”

  “I agree,” Angela said. “It is sad.”

  “Can I have my phone back?” Katie asked.

  “Yeah. Well, wait. Let me try my husband again.”

  She dialed, waiting through the rings and rings. Voice mail again.

  She ended the call.

  “You said you’re friends with Erica?” Katie asked.

  “Kind of.
No.”

  “Oh.” Katie pursed her lips, thinking. She had flawless skin and bright brown eyes despite having just rolled out of bed. Angela envied her for that. “I thought maybe you knew her friend who came by the house.”

  “Whose friend? Mary Beth’s?”

  “No. Erica’s. The day before Felicity disappeared, I guess, this guy shows up here at the house, knocking on the door. Kind of hard. When I answered, he said she was looking for Mary Beth, and I said MB wasn’t home. Then he asked me if I knew where Erica was. I guess he was supposed to meet Erica somewhere, but she didn’t show up. This guy seemed kind of unhappy.” Katie shrugged. “I said I didn’t know where any of them were.”

  “And that’s it?” Angela asked. “Who was he?”

  “He didn’t say his name.” Katie chewed on her thumbnail for a second. “MB came home just as he was leaving. And there was a woman in the car with him.” Katie moved over to the top of the stairs. “Hey, MB, what was that guy’s name? The one who came by the house the other day?”

  They waited but received no response.

  “Where did she go?” Katie asked, and started down the stairs with Angela following.

  They found the kitchen empty and then went out the back door onto the small stoop. They stepped out just as Jake Little drove off down the alley.

  “Hey,” Angela said. “Shit.”

  But Mary Beth was there, walking back toward the house, stepping gingerly with her bare feet.

  “Where did he go?” Angela asked.

  “He took off,” Mary Beth said. “He said he had somewhere to go.” She held something out to Angela. “He gave me your phone. He said he was holding it.”

  “Thanks,” Angela said. “I guess I’m taking Uber back to Cottonsville.”

  “Hey, MB,” Katie said, “who was the dude who came to the house that day? The one who seemed kind of gay and was looking for Erica?”

  Mary Beth’s face scrunched. “That’s so weird. I just told Jake about that.”

  “What did you tell him?” Angela asked.