Jackpot

by Mairsile Leabhair

  “Jaylen,” Sophie said softly. “Won’t you help us find your mother? There’s still time to start over, build a new life with your family.”

  “With Grandma, maybe,” Kenny clarified with a growl.

  If Jaylen heard her, she gave no indication as she pulled out a chair and sat down. “Mom used to make the best chocolate chip cookies,” she said, helping herself to a cookie.

  Sophie poured her a glass of milk and handed her a paper napkin. “My madre always said that the world’s problems could be solved over a glass of milk and a warm cookie.”

  Jaylen paused and looked at Sophie, someone she had kept antagonizing to no avail. Then she looked across the table at Kenny. She inhaled deeply to relieve her animosity and said, “I think I know who has Mom.”

  “We know who has her,” Kenny snapped. “Confess so we can go get her.”

  “I’ve done some horrible things in my life, including leaving you with Mom. I have to live with that every minute of every day. If you knew how many times I wanted to jump off a cliff to end it all… forget it, it doesn’t matter. No matter what you may think, I love my mother. I’m here now, trying to make amends so get off your fucking high horse and let me help.”

  “Fine,” Kenny snarled at her, crossing her arms. “Help then.”

  “I think it’s a former inmate at McPherson prison.”

  “That’s convenient,” Chelsey mumbled, eliciting a smile from Kenny.

  “The last week I was there, I got into a fight with another inmate.”

  “No surprise there,” Kenny scoffed.

  “Actually, she came at me. Never said a word, just punched me right in the face. Of course, I defended myself and beat the crap out of her before the guards pulled her off.”

  “From what I heard, that wasn’t your first fight in prison,” Kenny said.

  “No, but it was my last one,” Jaylen proclaimed. “I got a week’s detention, pushing my release back a damn week, and I never saw her again. But, as the guards were dragging her away, she yelled, ‘Nice to meet you, Mom.’”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Mouths gaped open, eyes grew wide with wonder, and no one breathed.

  Except Kenny. She clapped her hands together and laughed until she cried. “Oh, God, that was perfect,” she said, wiping her eyes with the sleeve of her shirt.

  “Are you serious?” Chelsey asked, still in disbelief.

  “Yes. I don’t know how she recognized me, but I believe that she was my daughter.”

  “What makes you think that?” Sophie asked.

  “She had a club foot. My baby had one. I was hoping that whoever adopted her would have it fixed.”

  “Are you sure someone adopted her?” Chelsey asked.

  “No. Once I the signed the papers, a social worker took her away. That was the last I saw of her until then”

  “And just how many times have you dumped your children on the state?”

  “If you’re asking how many children I’ve had, the answer is three. I asked them to remove my uterus while I was still on the table.”

  “Because you’d rather do drugs,” Kenny accused.

  “Because I had just given birth to a dead baby,” Jaylen countered, lowering her eyes.

  Kenny looked at Chelsey, an unasked question on her lips. Chelsey took Kenny’s hand and placed it on her thigh, covering it with her own hand. She rubbed her thumb softly across it and gazed into Kenny’s emotional eyes. Kenny squeezed her hand, a faint smile on her lips.

  Kenny coughed to clear her throat. “All right. Let’s say she is your daughter. Why would she come after Grandma?”

  “How would she even know about Deidre?” Sophie asked.

  “The only thing I can think of is that she saw them on the news, like I had. They interviewed Makenna and Mom the day after the lottery win.”

  “That much is true. They just showed up at our apartment without so much as a phone call first. Grandma let them in and offered them tea.”

  Chuckling, Jaylen nodded. “Mom may have been born in Ireland, but she was Southern through and through.”

  Kenny’s mind was racing chaotically. She jumped up and began pacing to help her think. “Okay. She’d be what, twenty-two, twenty-three-years old?”

  “She just turned twenty-three,” Jaylen answered.

  “Wow, you didn’t wait long before popping out another one, did you?” Kenny jeered.

  “What can I say, I’m very fertile,” Jaylen retorted.

  Shaking her head, Kenny walked back to the table and sat down. “So then, she was old enough to find out who her mother was.”

  “And if that’s what happened, and she put two and two together,” Chelsey theorized, “she might have figured out who you were.”

  “If she did, why didn’t she just come after me?” Kenny questioned. “I mean, I know Jaylen would play these games, torturing Grandma and me, but—”

  “Bullshit,” Jaylen spit out.

  “But she doesn’t even know us,” Kenny continued without missing a beat. “What did we ever do to her?”

  “There’s too many variables to understand that yet,” Chelsey offered. She glanced over at Jaylen. “If it’s even her.”

  “Agreed,” Kenny said and also looked at Jaylen. “So, how do we find her?”

  Jaylen shrugged, rolling her eyes. “How the hell should I know? She’s probably still in prison.”

  “What was her name?” Kenny asked.

  “Now who’s torturing who?” Jaylen barked, jumping up and walking to the counter. “I told you that I didn’t get to name her,” she said with her back to them. “I don’t know her name, or anything else about her. I know the year she was born and that’s only because I gave birth to her.”

  “It wasn’t intentional, Jaylen,” Kenny relented. “If I’m going to believe you about anything, I need to find Grandma. And if finding your other abandoned baby will help with that, then I need more than… wait… you said you were given an extra week for fighting, right?”

  “Yeah, that’s right.”

  “Then it would be on your prison record who you fought with.” Kenny jumped up. “I need to call the warden at McPherson,” she exclaimed, pulling her cell phone from her jeans.

  “Wait, Kenny, you can’t. Look at the time,” Chelsey said, pointing at the clock. “It’s only three-thirty. He won’t be there yet.”

  Kenny looked at the time on her phone. “Yeah, okay. What time do you think he gets in?”

  “Usually around eight o’clock,” Jaylen answered, returning to her seat.

  “Fine. I’ll wait,” Kenny agreed begrudgingly.

  The four of them sat quietly, each lost in their own thoughts.

  After a long pause, Chelsey stood up. “Well, why don’t we all try and get a couple hours sleep? I had a very long day yesterday and have a feeling it’s going to be an even longer day today.”

  Sophie pushed away from the table and stood up, too. “I think that’s a great idea.”

  Chelsey held her hand out to Kenny. “Come on. You should get some sleep, too.”

  Jaylen watched attentively as Chelsey and Kenny exchanged looks.

  “I will, in a minute,” Kenny replied. “I need to escort Jaylen back to her room, first.”

  “Oh, please. I’m a big girl. I can stay up by myself,” Jaylen said sarcastically.

  Kenny cocked an eyebrow and sneered at her. “Yeah, I know. You told me all about what a big girl you were in prison, beating up your own daughter. But I’m still locking you up.”

  “Bitch.”

  “Whore.”

  No one noticed that Sophie had left the room until she returned with Miguel. “Excuse me,” she yelled, getting their attention. “I believe he can help us all get some sleep.”

  Grinning, Kenny said, “Thanks, Sophie. Miguel, please escort Jaylen back to her room and make sure she’s locked in tight for the night.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he responded.

  Sophie leaned close to him
and whispered, “She doesn’t like to be called ma’am. Call her Señora instead.”

  He looked at her and scratched his head.

  Both words meant the same thing, but Sophie, knowing how Kenny felt about being called ma’am, figured that Señora wouldn’t sound as old. She winked at him and he chuckled, finally getting the joke.

  Lester came in looking for Miguel to give report before he relieved him.

  “Lester, perfect timing,” Kenny said. “First, I want you to meet Chelsey Kendrick, your protectee. Chels, this is Lester Henderson. He will be your personal bodyguard when you leave the house. Now, don’t fight me on this. Sophie and Tobias also have one. It’s the best way to keep you from being kidnapped… again.”

  “I’m not going to fight you, Kenny,” Chelsey capitulated. “Not after what I’ve been through. It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Henderson.”

  Lester stepped closer and said, “No one will harm you, ma’am. Not on my watch.”

  Nodding, Chelsey replied, “Thank you, and please don’t call me ma’am.”

  Miguel glanced at Sophie and she was laughing.

  Miguel and Lester talked briefly, then Lester started his rounds as Miguel escorted a surprisingly submissive Jaylen out of the kitchen. Sophie bid the girls goodnight and then they were alone.

  Kenny took Chelsey’s hand and brought it to her lips. “I am so happy to have you back,” she said, her eyes conveying her emotions.

  With everyone out of the room, Chelsey dropped the pretense she’d been perpetrating since she was taken. “I’ve missed you,” she said, her shoulders drooping. “Could I just lay in your arms for a little while? Just until I feel safe again.”

  Kenny inhaled sharply, her heart breaking. How could she have been so self-absorbed? Of course, Chelsey would have lasting anxiety from being held at gunpoint. She looked closer and saw the shadows under Chelsey’s beautiful eyes. Her dimples, an erogenous zone for Kenny, were all but gone, because Chelsey wasn’t smiling. Damn it! “Absolutely, baby,” she replied in a raspy voice. “I’ll hold you as long as you want, anytime, anywhere.” Kenny held out her arms and Chelsey walked into them.

  “I was so scared, Kenny,” she exclaimed, burying her face against Kenny’s chest. Safe in her lover’s arms, the tears flowed fast and hard, washing away hours of tension, fear, and uncertainty.

  Kenny held her tighter, her own eyes glistening as she felt Chelsey’s body tremble in her arms. “You’re safe now, baby,” she said softly. “No one will ever take you from me again.”

  “Just hold me and never let me go,” Chelsey muttered.

  “Always.” Kenny picked her up and carried her to her room, laying her down gently on the featherbed.

  Chelsey’s strawberry-blonde hair plumed across the pillow, her face paler than usual, but her hazel eyes were clear and focused as she gazed up at Kenny.

  Kenny walked back to the door and locked it. Dimming the lights, she walked to the foot of the bed and unlaced Chelsey’s shoes, setting them on the storage bench at the foot of the bed. Then she removed her own shoes and placed them neatly beside Chelsey’s, something that would surprise her grandmother as she usually just tossed them on the floor. She crawled into bed and Chelsey rolled over and laid her head on Kenny’s chest. Kenny encircled her with her arms and kissed her forehead. I love you, Chelsey Kendrick. “Get some sleep, baby. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

  “You get some sleep, too,” Chelsey said drowsily.

  “I will, I promise,” Kenny said, rubbing Chelsey’s back. Just as soon as I catch the bitches doing this to my family.

  Chelsey laid her arm across Kenny’s stomach and sighed. It wasn’t long before she was softly snoring.

  Kenny listened to the cadence of her breath as she thought about what she must have gone through. What her grandmother was still going through. She was beginning to doubt that paying the ransom on Monday would end the mental torture for any of them.

  She had been forced to grow up after the lottery. Once a normal, fun-seeking college kid whose only ambition was to get laid and become a detective, in that order, she was now suddenly responsible for four people’s lives. People who had become very dear to her. One in particular whom she had fallen madly in love with and was sleeping on her chest because she was too afraid to sleep alone. Never again.

  At half-past eight, Kenny slipped out of bed and kissed Chelsey on the forehead before picking up her shoes and tiptoeing out of the room. Though she had dozed off and on, she still felt drained and headed to the kitchen, hoping for some of Sophie’s strong coffee. She wasn’t surprised to see Sophie at the counter, mixing biscuits. Sophie had developed a passion for cooking, and Kenny was becoming accustomed to seeing her there. The thought that someday soon, she would sit at the kitchen table and listen to her grandmother and Sophie fuss over recipes was very reassuring to her.

  “Buenos días, Kenny.”

  “Good morning, Soph. Do I smell coffee brewing?”

  “Sí. It’s ready, help yourself.”

  “Gracias,” Kenny croaked, still trying to wake up.

  “Did you get any sleep?”

  “Not really,” she replied, taking a cup out of the cupboard and pouring coal-black coffee into it. “But Chelsey’s still sleeping so if you wouldn’t mind saving some breakfast for her, I’m sure she’d appreciate it.”

  “I’ll keep a plate warm for her. Are you ready to eat?”

  “In a few minutes. I want to call the prison first,” Kenny replied, carefully sipping at the hot coffee. She held up the cup and said, “Thanks for this. I’ll be back in a minute.” With cup in hand, she went downstairs to the game room and sat at one of the computers. She set her coffee cup down on the computer bench and pulled out her cell phone, also setting it down. Waking up the computer, she opened a web browser and did a search for the prison phone number. One more sip of eye-opening coffee and then she picked up her phone.

  “This is Makenna Whitt. I’d like to speak to Warden Slats, please.”

  The prison exchange asked her to wait one moment, and then the phone clicked and Slats answered. “Miss Whitt, to what do I owe the honor?”

  “Warden, this might come as a shock to you, but Prisoner 685493, who claims to be my mother, is now a guest at my house and I have a couple of questions.”

  “A bold move,” he acknowledged. “I’m happy to answer any questions I can, legally.”

  “Jaylen got into a fight with another inmate the week before she was to be released. That woman had a club foot.”

  “Yes, Anna Reed. She’s the one who instigated it.”

  “Is she still there?”

  “Just a minute, let me look her up… No, McPherson was her last stop before she was released.”

  “What was she in for?”

  “I’m sorry. I’ve already told you more than I should have. Perhaps a quick Google search might answer your questions.”

  He can’t tell me himself, but the info is out there. “Thanks, I’ll do that.”

  “Good luck, Miss Whitt.”

  She ended the call, plopped the phone on the counter, and typed in a new search for Anna Reed. Using one of several rap sheet websites, she found a prison ID card on Anna. “So, that’s what you look like,” she said to herself.

  Anna had short, dark hair, a long nose, and high cheekbones, but it was her eyes that drew Kenny in. Her eyes were dark, fierce, and penetrating. Almost as if she knew Kenny was looking at her, and she didn’t like it.

  Kenny learned that Anna’s prisoner number was ADC Number 925390 and she had committed a Class A misdemeanor. She was in for shoplifting. Kenny sent the ID card to the printer and continued searching. She followed Anna’s prisoner number to a message board for prisoner’s families. The thread was parents, mostly mothers, introducing themselves and giving a brief description of their loved one’s incarceration. From what Kenny could tell, no one used their real names. The handle, LookingformyDaughter, was the one who mentioned Anna. “Is that you, Jayl
en?” Kenny asked. “Nah, this was posted before you got out of prison.”

  “Am looking for my daughter, Anna Reed,” Kenny read the post out loud. “I was told she might be at the McPherson Unit.”

  The replies to that post were not helpful. One person asked why she didn’t know where her own daughter was. Another said to just call the prison and ask if she was there. The poster said that Anna wasn’t legally her daughter, and the government wouldn’t give her any information. Same thing with the prison. She told them that she was an invalid and lived in Little Rock. She was unable to drive to the prison.

  “Well, I’ll just have to pay you a visit, then.” Kenny created a handle, LookingforMySister, and posted on the thread that she was also looking for Anna Reed. It was a longshot, but she might get lucky.

  She picked up the printout and tore off a piece of tape. Taping the ID card to the wall beside Jaylen’s picture, she decided that she was suddenly starving and went upstairs for breakfast. On the way to the kitchen, the doorbell rang. She went over to the door, Lester walking up behind her, and looked through the peephole. “Oh shit. Commissioner Weathersby.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Kenny turned to Lester and waved at the door. “Count of five, then let him in. I’ll be in the kitchen.”

  Lester nodded and Kenny ran toward the kitchen. “Sophie, the commissioner is at the door. He’ll be in here in a minute. Help me.”

  “Help you? How?”

  “I told him Grandma was in Ireland. I know it’s a lie, but could you back me up on that?”