by Mary Burton
‘Your mom has been dead over a year? And your dad’s been gone how long?’
‘Ten years.’ She sighed. ‘After Mom died I was really grieving. I missed her so much. So I became hell-bent on getting out of Richmond and making the big time. Last summer changed all that. Lying in the hospital with all those tubes hooked up to me made me think about what was important. I didn’t want to leave behind what little roots I have.’
A frown knitted Nicole’s forehead. ‘But don’t you want to know about her?’
‘Her’ was Kendall’s birth mother. ‘I can miss her and hate her in the blink of an eye.’ She smiled, hoping to soften the comment. ‘It’s just complicated and hard to explain. I’m so curious about her. I was six inches taller than Mom. And my olive skin didn’t match Mom’s pale Irish skin and freckles. I don’t even know who I look like.’
‘But you never went searching.’ There was sadness in Nicole’s voice.
‘No.’
Nicole swallowed. ‘Do you know anything about her?’
‘Nothing.’ Kendall shoved out a breath. ‘The point of all this isn’t to lay more on your shoulders. It’s to tell you that I’m adopted and I had a really great life with the people who adopted me. They adored me. I couldn’t have asked for more.’ And still there’d been something missing. A hole in her heart. But she couldn’t tell Nicole that.
‘Thanks. I don’t know if it makes any of this easier,’ she said, nodding to the full binder. ‘But I am glad to know you had great parents.’
Kendall rose. ‘Do me a favor and keep this under your hat. I’m not ready to go public yet.’
‘Oh, sure, of course.’
Kendall suddenly felt very weary. ‘I’m going to bed. Are you okay?’
Her too bright smile was lame at best. ‘I’m good.’
Kendall didn’t push. There wasn’t more she could say to Nicole to make any of this process easier. ‘Okay, good night.’
‘Hey, you should talk to Carnie. She’s good at finding lost family members.’
‘I don’t know.’
‘She’s kind of an adoption detective. If you want answers she’s the one to go to.’
Was she brave enough to seek the answers? ‘Thanks.’
Kendall’s legs felt like lead as she climbed the steps. She couldn’t wait to slip under the sheets. Fifteen minutes later, she’d hung up her clothes and washed the makeup from her face. She opened her medicine cabinet and pulled out a bottle of sleeping pills prescribed to her after her surgery. She glanced at the bottle in her hand. ‘No. I don’t need this.’
She set the pills back and got into bed. She wasn’t going to set her alarm clock. She’d wake up when she woke up. As she drifted off to sleep, her mind was on the family she’d lost.
The little girl was afraid.
Soft arms with surprising strength lowered her to the floor and pushed her into the darkened closet. She huddled in the corner. Shag carpet scratched her legs. Above, winter coats on hangers brushed her head.
The woman laid a baby next to her. Immediately, the baby kicked its feet, balled tiny hands into fists, and started to wail.
The little girl resented the baby. It was always in the way. ‘I don’t like the baby!’
‘Be quiet,’ the woman warned. ‘Don’t argue with me.’ The woman’s voice was normally soft and patient. Now it was angry, afraid, and desperate. ‘And keep the baby quiet.’
She didn’t want to be left alone with the baby. The baby cried and smelled bad.
The girl held up her hands and started to stand. ‘No, no! Take me! Take me!’
The woman, already retreating, roughly pushed her back. Tears streamed down the woman’s eyes. ‘Stay put. Don’t leave this closet.’
The door slammed shut. The key in the lock twisted, flipping the deadbolt in place.
The little girl was plunged into darkness. The baby cried. The little girl’s lips puckered out and she put her thumb in her mouth. She hated the dark. Hated the baby. Hated being left alone.
Outside the closet door the woman started to scream. Angry. Hysterical. Frightened.
The little girl huddled in the corner, drawing herself up into a small ball. She squeezed her eyes shut and ducked her head.
She tried not to cry. She wanted to be brave. But it was all too much.
The child hugged her knees close to her body and began to cry. The infant, sensing her distress, cried even louder.
The child’s throat constricted with fear and she burrowed her head back in the corner. The screams outside wouldn’t stop. She was so afraid that she peed.
And then she heard footsteps moving toward the door. Suddenly, someone started shouting on the other side. The footsteps moved away. Then the room exploded with more screams and terrified yelps.
The little girl raised her hands to cover her ears and block out the frightful sounds. ‘Mommy, don’t leave me.’
Kendall awoke with a start, sitting bolt upright in her bed. Her heart thundered against her chest. Her gown was soaked in sweat and she realized she’d been crying.
She shoved shaking fingers through her hair and then wiped the tears from her face.
‘Damn it! This has got to stop.’
Chapter Eight
Sunday, January 13, sunrise
The side of Vicky Draper’s head ached as if it had been slammed into a wall. Her mouth felt as dry as cotton. And every muscle in her body felt so heavy, as if lead weighted down every fiber. Time was a blur and she was so disoriented.
Crap. She’d not felt like this in a long time. She’d sworn after the last time she’d done coke not to get so fucked up when she partied.
Had it been the shots of tequila at Brian’s house? Maybe the coke Ronnie T. had given her was cut with some shit like Drano.
Vicky’s temper rose. That damn drug dealer was always taking a fucking shortcut to squeeze a dollar out of someone. She wasn’t fooled by his easy grins. Under it all she knew he’d sell his mother for a buck.
The drugs were gonna kill her if she didn’t knock this shit off. She resolved then and there never to touch the stuff again. Going forward, she would be all about clean and sober.
Her eyes were still closed as she tried to move her hands. She quickly realized she couldn’t lift her arms. Fear mingled with anger. Damn, Ronnie T.! What had his drugs done to her? Digging deep, she opened her eyes and looked down.
Her blurred vision cleared slowly, and when it did she really thought she must be tripping. Pink. The dimly lit room was filled with pink everywhere. It was like she was trapped inside a ball of cotton candy.
Shit. This wasn’t right.
Squinting, she focused on the room’s sole source of light: a small bedside lamp with a low-wattage bulb. Her gaze darted to the right to a canopied bed covered in a pink chiffon comforter. Stuffed animals – rabbits, puppies, ducks – crowded the bed.
The faint scent of urine rose up and assailed her nose. She realized her pants were wet and she’d soiled herself. Embarrassment washed over her.
Sitting straighter, she said, ‘Where the fuck am I?’
Again, she tried to lift her arms and couldn’t. Her mind had cleared enough for her to realize her hands were tied to the chair.
Panic sliced through her. Oh crap, was Ronnie T. behind this?
Her head pounded. ‘If this is some kind of joke, I’m not laughing.’
Her gaze skipped around the room again as she jerked at the bindings. She was in all-out survival mode.
She was in a little girl’s room and she was tied up. This kind of setup wasn’t Ronnie T.’s style. The drug dealer wouldn’t have gone to this kind of trouble if he was pissed at her.
Crap, maybe she had hooked up with a kinky john. She’d turned a few tricks in her time, but it was always straightforward – no weird sex. But the kinky stuff paid really well. And she’d been short on cash. What had she gotten herself into?
Outside a frosted window, she saw an orange sun through naked trees. Su
nrise. There was no snow on the branches of the trees. It had melted. How many days had passed?
Desperation rising, she tried to think where she’d last been before this room. She’d called in sick to work because Brian had invited her over for shooters. And then they’d run out of tequila so she’d headed to the corner liquor store for more.
And then that guy had approached her in the alley. He had followed her like some freak. And when she’d blown him off he’d looked hurt and then mad. And then he’d hit her.
‘Hey!’ Her voice sounded weak, raspy. She cleared her throat. ‘Whoever you are, I’m sorry I got so mad. My name is Vicky. Vicky Draper. Can we talk about this?’
A song started to play, drifting into the room on an unidentified speaker. The song was old. Pop crap from the 1980s. Duran Duran, or something like that.
She craned her neck toward the closed door. Her heart hammered in her chest. She needed to get out of there. She jerked at the ropes. ‘I don’t know who you are, but I don’t do tricks anymore.’
Footsteps sounded in the hallway outside the door. Vicky sat straight, clenching her fingers into fists. She’d talked her way out of some bad stuff before. Hadn’t Ronnie T. wanted to cut her hand off last year for stealing from him? She’d sworn never to cheat him again and as an extra measure said she’d pledge to work for free. He’d relented and given her another chance.
Sweat rolled down her back. Stay calm. You can get out of this.
The knob twisted and the door opened. A man stepped into the room. He was dressed in jeans, a dark shirt, and work boots. Muscular build. Short hair. And wore an odd grin on his face that didn’t sit well.
‘You’re up,’ he said pleasantly. ‘I was beginning to think you wouldn’t wake up in time.’
She tried not to look as terrified as she felt. ‘What am I doing here? Do you work for Ronnie T.?’
‘I’ve never heard of Ronnie T. He a friend of yours?’
He softly closed the door behind him. The room was large enough, but with him in it the space shrank. She felt trapped. ‘He and I have worked together before.’
‘I see.’ He crossed the room and pulled a wooden chair from a desk and set it in front of her.
This guy was the guy from the alley. The guy who’d hit her. Like in the alley, he appeared so average. Like Richie Cunningham on Happy Days. Just an ordinary putz. If she’d passed him on the street, she’d never have given him a second glance. The straight-laced types had never done it for her. ‘Who are you?’
He straddled the chair and leaned toward her. ‘You don’t recognize me?’
‘From the alley.’
‘I’m talking about earlier.’
‘No.’
Leaning a fraction closer, he clasped his hands together. ‘I thought you’d remember.’
‘Man, I don’t. And if you’ve snatched me because you think I can remember something, I don’t. You can let me go because I don’t know nothing about anything. Ask anyone.’
He looked disappointed. ‘I was hoping you would remember.’
Vicky twisted her hands. She felt as if she were going to jump out of her skin. ‘Mister, I don’t.’
He shook his head. ‘That’s too bad.’
Too bad? Was he an old john? ‘If you want me to remember I’ll try harder.’ If she could get the guy talking maybe she could come up with something to convince him to let her go.
He shrugged. ‘There’s no point in going into it all. Once you’ve joined the Family, you’ll understand.’
‘What family?’
‘My family. Our family.’
He rose and reached in his pocket as he moved around her.
Vicky’s heart pounded against her chest. What the hell was the family? Maybe a cult. ‘What are you going to do?’
‘I’ve got a present for you.’ He gently brushed her hair away from the nape of her neck. ‘You have pretty skin.’
Tears welled in her eyes. She wasn’t a crier, hadn’t been since she was a kid. But something about this guy scared the piss out of her.
She twisted her head and tried to meet his gaze. ‘Mister, you’ve got the wrong girl. Really. I don’t have a family. My name is Vicky.’
He pulled a gold chain from his pocket. On the end was a small oval medallion. It caught the dim light and sparkled.
‘Remember this? I showed it to you in the alley.’
Her pulse thrummed. ‘Yeah, it’s pretty.’
He draped the necklace around her neck and fastened the clasp. The medallion felt cold against her skin and hung just above the vee of her sweater. Looking down, she could see it had writing on it but couldn’t make out the script.
‘Do you like it?’ Gently, he stroked the top of her head.
Tension exploded inside her. Dear God, no matter what she said she feared it wasn’t going to be the right answer. ‘Yeah, it’s nice. You were sweet to give it to me.’
‘I’m glad you like it.’
She clenched and unclenched her fingers. ‘Look, mister, how about letting me go? I don’t want trouble. I just want to leave.’
He came around her, squatted beside her chair, and laid his hand on her knee. ‘I can’t let you go. It’s just too dangerous out there for you.’
‘I can take care of myself. Really.’
He frowned, clearly saddened. ‘You should be with your family.’
‘I don’t have a family. I was a foster care kid. And my ex-husband and I don’t really like each other.’
‘We should honor our father and mother.’
A desperate smile lifted her trembling lips. She did her best not to think about her mother and father. She’d not seen them since she was eight and thinking about them only made life all that much harder. ‘I would if I knew them.’
The more she talked the more distressed he seemed. ‘You’ve been alone too long. You’ve picked up so many bad habits.’
‘I’m not perfect. I get that.’ She had no idea what he was talking about. The guy was a nutcase. He could do anything to her. And then it hit her that she’d told him she was estranged from her parents and her ex-husband. ‘I have lots of friends. And they’re expecting me.’
He rose again and moved behind her. He laid his hands on her shoulders. Her pulse jolted wildly under his fingertips. ‘Friends come and go. Family is forever.’
She was about to argue the point when she felt his hands move up to her neck. ‘What are you doing?’
‘Sending you to the Family. Ruth is waiting. And I know she is so anxious to see you.’
The growing pressure of his hand made it hard to swallow. She gagged. ‘I don’t know any Ruth.’
He started to squeeze. ‘Yes, you do.’
She started to twist her head from side to side and kick her feet. God, if she could only bite him. But his hands were amazingly strong, and despite her flailing he maintained a steady pressure.
‘Don’t fight it.’ His voice was so soft and gentle. ‘I’m giving you what you always needed.’
Getting air into her lungs became the priority. At first she could manage sips of air between gags but quickly that became impossible. She was going to die because he’d mistaken her for someone else.
Soon her vision blurred and she felt light-headed. Her body screamed for air. Her muscles cramped. Black dots formed in her eyes. Her chest burned.
Her mind skidded to a memory she rarely allowed. Her mother. Smiling at her. Calling her Peaches.
And then her heart stopped beating and everything went dark.
Chapter Nine
Sunday, January 13, 9:00 A.M.
‘Thank you for meeting me so early,’ Dana Miller said.
Nicole smiled and extended her hand to the woman dressed in mink and a sleek Armani suit. Dark hair was brushed back in a smooth chignon and one-caret diamond studs winked from her earlobes. Dana had made a fortune in real estate in the last decade.
Nicole smiled. ‘No problem. I often meet with clients early in the morning.
‘But Sunday is above and beyond the call. My schedule is insane right now.’ Dana shrugged off the mink. A diamond broach clung to her lapel. ‘And then my marketing director called me yesterday and said she absolutely had to have the new publicity shots by Monday afternoon. We’re revamping the Web site and my marketing director needs new head shots of me.’
‘You live a hectic life.’ Nicole accepted her coat and hung it on a rack by the door. The shades were open and morning light poured into her studio. Outside the winter sky was a crystal blue.
‘Usually it’s manageable. But I’m selling the units for the River Bend site, and with all the recent headlines I’ve had my hands full with damage control.’
‘Didn’t they find a dead woman on that property?’
Dana grimaced. ‘Yes. Horrible. Poor woman.’
‘The murder must be hurting business.’
‘Actually, traffic by the sales office has skyrocketed. The problem is the cops won’t release the scene and Adam Alderson is falling behind schedule with the surveying, which of course delays the site work. It’s a mess.’ Dana’s gaze flickered to Nicole’s belly. ‘I guess you know firsthand about unexpected surprises.’
The reference to the baby caught Nicole off guard. Dana’s boldness put her on the defensive and that made her angry. As color rose in her cheeks, she reminded herself again that she had done nothing wrong.
‘My comment has made you angry.’
‘Frankly, yes.’
Dana wasn’t put off. ‘This baby must be turning your world upside down.’
Nicole lifted her chin. ‘Nothing I can’t handle.’
‘Good for you. I like women with a spine.’ Dana grinned. ‘You are a doll for working me in today.’
Nicole needed the interruption of work. She’d spent most of last evening looking at adoption family profiles. Again, she was left conflicted, worried, and confused over the decision. ‘I’m just glad you called and we could find a time to meet. Can I offer you coffee or tea?’
Dana smiled. ‘Tea would be lovely.’
Nicole moved past the camera set up in front of the backdrop and settee. She had a small kitchen with an electric teapot and a white porcelain jar filled with a collection of teas.
