I shook my head, running from the store without another word. They had Gray, and they were claiming him as their own.
What had happened to Ben?
Who were these people?
And, most importantly, what did they want with my son?
Chapter Twenty-Four
“I think we should call the police,” Ty said, his voice firm, once I’d told them what I’d learned. I was practically in hysterics, and Dannika seemed torn between my panic and Ty’s calm.
“I mean, I agree, but I don’t want to just go home and wait. There has to be something else we can do.”
“What more can you do, Palmer? The rest should be up to the police,” he said.
“The police move at a snail’s pace. You know that better than anyone. We’ve seen that just over the course of this investigation. Everything helpful up to this point has been found by me. If I wait and let them work through the red tape, it may be too late. We have to go there. We have to find him.”
“Okay, but you know where he is now, right? The police didn’t know that before. Now, you know he’s in Red River. So we have a location we can give them. Even if you drive to Red River, how will you find him? Are you going to go door to door? That’s not plausible,” Ty cautioned, thinking like a lawyer rather than a parent.
“What if it was Darius who was missing, Ty? Or Niles? Or Zayla?” They tensed at the mere thought of it, the thought of my reality becoming theirs. “You wouldn’t sit back and let the police do their jobs, and you know it. This is my son, Ty. I don’t have a choice to let them handle it. If I do that, Kat and her husband could hurt him. They could…sell him. They could run away with him, and I may never see him again. I couldn’t forgive myself if I didn’t try my hardest to save him.”
“I understand what you’re saying, I do, but what I’m telling you is that it’s not the same for you. You can go up to this woman’s house, ask questions, sure. But Dani and I—we have to let the police do the work. We can’t be involved.”
“What are you talking about? I would never back down if it were your child.”
“That’s your privilege, Palmer. You know we’d move heaven and earth for you, we would. But we have kids to think about, too. If someone sees a black man walking around their yard uninvited, they’re going to shoot me or call the police and they could shoot me. I may be a Harvard-educated, sharply dressed black man, but I’m still a black man. We want to help you, but not if it means doing anything that could take us away from our kids. Having us with you would put you in more danger, too. We have to think about so much more than you do, Palmer. You’re a well-dressed white woman. You could walk in her house if you wanted and probably be fine. I couldn’t walk up her driveway. Dani either. I’m sorry.”
“I hadn’t even thought,” I said, my throat dry. Dannika had been my best friend all my life. Ty was like a brother to me. I never thought about our differences in that way. I never thought about the things they didn’t talk about, the struggles I never had to see. “I’m sorry.”
He huffed. “You don’t have to be sorry. I don’t want you to be. You didn’t do anything wrong. We want to help. We do. It about kills me to say this to you now, but Dani and I have talked about it. I’m just not comfortable with this. We can’t go driving up to houses at night. We can’t be in neighborhoods where people don’t know I’m a lawyer. If someone calls the cops on you, you may get a warning. If someone calls the cops on us, we could end up in jail, if we don’t end up dead. There are amazing cops out there, don’t get me wrong, but it’s still a risk. It’s a much bigger risk for us than you. Don’t you see that? We love you, but it’s a whole different world for us. We don’t talk about these things because we don’t want to make you uncomfortable, but that doesn’t mean that every time we go to a restaurant with you, we don’t feel like we’re less scrutinized than when we’re alone. Or when we go shopping, we don’t have to make sure we keep our hands out of our pockets. I get what you want to do, Palmer. If it were my kid, I’d feel the same. The difference is, if it were my kid, I wouldn’t have the option to act on those feelings. I’d have to do what I’m told or else I’d be risking leaving my kids parentless. We came with you because we feel like it’s our duty to help you. We care about you. And about Gray. But this is where it ends for us as far as an investigation. You can stay with us for as long as you need, but Dani has to realize we can’t help with this. I see it too much at my firm. It’s too dangerous, and it’s always on my mind.”
I swallowed. “I understand. I’m sorry to have put you in this position.”
He shook his head, meeting my eyes in the rearview, and I could tell he felt bad. Dani wouldn’t look back. We rode the whole way home in silence, while I called Officer Kessler to leave an update on her voicemail.
When we got home, Dani walked with me to the bedroom, wringing her hands together. She shut the door behind her as Ty went to bed.
“He means well,” she said, staring at me.
“Dani, you don’t have to explain. I know he does. Ty’s done so much for me. You both have. I’m sorry I put you in a dangerous position. I’d never do that on purpose. I’d never forgive myself if—”
She held up a hand, shaking her head. “There’s a lawyer at Ty’s firm, Owen. His husband is a cop. Ty got a call earlier that they were looking into me, just a head’s up from Owen’s husband, Jay.”
“Looking into you? Why?”
She released a heavy breath through her nose. “Because I was with you at the marina.”
“But…you had nothing to do with this.”
“I know that and you know that, but some people don’t need to see anything more than skin color to assume someone’s guilty. Jay said they didn’t find anything, but he wanted us to be aware. He’s a good cop. A good guy, and we consider Owen a friend. It just really upset Ty, embarrassed him a bit, too. He…he sees so much at work, and he’s always worried about us. I just…I can’t go against what he says—not about this.”
“I wouldn’t want you to.” It’s my turn to pull her into a hug. “I love you so much. Thank you for going with me today. Thank you for always being with me.”
When we broke apart, there were tears in her eyes. “We’re going to find him, right?”
I felt tears falling down my own cheeks, and when I spoke again, it was a vow. “I won’t give up until we do.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
An hour later, the house was silent. For a while after Dannika had left me to sleep, I could hear them whispering from the bedroom. I felt terrible for what I’d done, for the position I’d put them in, and for not even realizing there was a position to begin with. I wouldn’t do it again. Wouldn’t chance it for the world.
Instead, once the house fell silent, I scribbled a note and left it on the kitchen counter.
Dani and Ty,
Thank you for always taking care of me. I have to go find him. I can’t give up, and I can’t wait. I love you both. Give the babies kisses from me.
Palmer
With that, I walked out the front door and called an Uber. The black Hyundai pulled up, allowing me to climb in. The driver, Alex, offered me a bottle of water or a phone charger. I accepted both and opened my Facebook, searching for Katherine Thompson and the name of her town, praying it would pull something up. It was a small town, even smaller than Crestview, so I had to hope.
I waited as my Facebook loaded…
And continued loading…
Finally, a list of names popped up. The first three weren’t her, the fourth didn’t have a profile picture at all. Two of the four weren’t even in our state. One had the last name River, rather than being from Red River.
I clicked ‘See More’ and, as soon as it loaded, I gasped.
Got you.
I’d recognize the face that had been burned into my memory any day. I clicked on her profile, watching it load, and her face filled my screen. The profile photo was her, though her hair was now a coal black rather than strawb
erry-blonde. When had that happened? Was this an outdated picture? I checked the date and noted that she’d just posted it the day before. So, she’d changed her look. She was definitely hiding something.
I scrolled through her page, which was mostly private, and there were no pictures of Gray. There was, however, a photo of a house with the caption We’re homeowners!
It had been shared two years ago. I clicked on it, reading the house number: 618. There was no street name, but someone had been tagged at one point. Her husband, most likely. I ran my mouse over the picture.
Tag removed, it said, highlighting a box where his name had probably once been.
I closed out of Facebook and opened my browser, typing in her name. Katherine Thompson Red River, NC 618
I pressed enter, and this time, it was the top search result, though the name on the listing made my throat go dry. A chill ran over my spine as I clicked on the link.
No.
Please God, no.
The page loaded, and I felt my pulse growing erratic as sheer black fright swept over me.
618 Melbourne Lane
Red River, NC
Property Owners: Benjamin and Katherine Lewis
Ben.
Chapter Twenty-Six
An hour later, I was pulling into Red River. I’d had the Uber driver drop me off at home just long enough to switch vehicles. I didn’t have much time. I couldn’t wait any longer.
I knew where my child was and, come hell or high water, I was going to get him back. I drove through the quiet streets of the tiny town, so peaceful and serene, yet holding so much evil. I still couldn’t get it through my head that Ben knew—was related to, was married to, maybe—Kat. I didn’t know how they knew each other, but I didn’t care. He’d lied to me. He’d let this woman into our lives, chosen her over me, and let her take my child. If I ever saw him again, I was sure I’d kill him.
I arrived on Melbourne Lane, driving slowly. The street lights flickered above me, giving the quiet street an ominous glow, and I looked for the home that would hold my child. Please let him be here.
Six eighteen was the third house from the end of the dead-end street. Inside, there were lights on downstairs, but the lights upstairs were all off. I stopped the car, climbing from it and walking across the yard.
I took cautious steps, looking over my shoulder to be sure no one would see me. What if they’d sold the house? What if they were no longer the owners? What would I do then? I pushed the thoughts from my head, forcing myself to keep going.
I approached the side of the house, pressing myself against the white, metal siding and listening carefully. I could hear the low, steady drone of a television running from somewhere inside the house.
Then, a baby began to fuss, his cries carrying through the house.
I slapped a hand over my mouth, quieting the sobs that came out with no warning and no regard for my safety. He was there. I’d found him. I needed to get into the house.
Quick footsteps hurried across the house, and I tried to follow them, walking around the side and toward the back. I reached over the gate to unlatch it, letting myself into the back yard. From there, I lost the sound of the footsteps and fought furiously to find them. Instead, a light flicked on on the second floor, and I could see a shadow moving around. Gray’s cries stopped, making me cry harder. Already, she was able to soothe him.
Or was it Ben? Ben could’ve been the one comforting him. How could he live with himself knowing I wasn’t there? Knowing if he had his way, Gray would never know his mother. What would he tell him about me? Would he tell him anything at all? I stepped behind a bush, keeping my body close to the house as I watched the shadows cast through the yellow glow of the light upstairs.
I sank down onto the mulch of the flower bed, watching the light and feeling helpless. My child was just feet from me, and I had no way to get to him. He was crying for me, for the nourishment only I could give him, and I couldn’t get there.
I should call the police. I knew it, but I couldn’t. I had no proof that it was Gray inside, no proof that Kat or Ben—either one—were inside. I had to get proof. I had to know for sure.
Once the cries had gone quiet for a while, the light upstairs flipped off, and I heard the footsteps descending the stairs.
I walked through the fenced-in backyard cautiously, looking for something to spark an idea. There was an awning above the back porch that would allow me to walk straight up to the window, but I wasn’t nearly tall enough to get to it. I walked up to the rusted patio set and grabbed one of the chairs. I still wasn’t sure whether it would get me up there, but I had to try.
I turned the chair backward against the support beam for the awning. It groaned under my weight, and I froze, waiting, my heart so loud in my chest I thought I was going to pass out.
After a few silent moments had passed, I leaned the rest of the way up, resting my forearms against the roof. I’d need to use all of my strength, including my core, which had no strength left to give since my cesarean.
I braced myself, letting out a steady breath with my lips in the shape of an ‘O,’ then heaved, pulling myself up. I cried out, unable to hold the noise in, pain ripping through my body like bolts of lightning. I was worried I’d torn open my still-healing scar, that my guts would be falling out by the time I made it to the roof, but I couldn’t stop. This was my metaphorical car, and I was lifting it off of my child with every ounce of adrenaline I could muster.
I pulled, shimmying one leg up and onto the roof, then the other. When I was up, I collapsed, breathing heavily and blinking back tears. I moved a hand to my lower belly, checking to make sure my surgical scar was still closed. To my great relief, though it felt like one place may have opened up, the wound was still mostly closed and I felt no blood. I lay still for a moment, catching my breath and recovering from the intense pain before rolling over and pushing myself up. I took careful steps across the roof, hurrying to balance myself against the edge of the house and toward the window. When I got there, I lifted at the screen, removing it relatively easily. I tried to push up on the glass of the window, but it wouldn’t budge.
I pushed in, then up, fighting with it. It had to open. I was so close. Just a glass-length away from him. I shoved once more and the window shook, but it wouldn’t unlock.
From inside, I heard his cries again. I’m not sure if all babies’ cries sound alike, but somehow, somewhere deep in my bones, I knew that was my son. I knew it had to be him, and I knew he could tell I was close. He needed me.
His cries grew louder, and I shoved away from the window, lowering myself to the roof when the light flicked on again. I heard her footsteps growing nearer, and then I heard her voice.
“What’s the matter, baby? Why can’t you sleep?” she cooed. Her voice was exactly how I remembered. Eerily sweet and smooth, slightly childish. It made me sick to my stomach.
Suddenly, I had an idea. I scooted toward the edge once again and stared down at the grass below. I was six feet up, and already hurt and sore, but I saw my window of opportunity. Without a second thought, I pushed off, shoving myself to the ground. I landed with a thud, tumbling onto the wet grass. I rolled over and pushed up without a second to breathe. I moved quickly across the concrete back patio and up to the door. I had one chance to make it work, and I had to pray the door was unlocked and that no one was downstairs. If Ben was there, I’d confront him. I wasn’t afraid for myself, only for Gray.
I twisted the knob and shoved, and the door sprung open at once. It took a minute for me to realize I was even inside, pure shock sitting heavily on my chest. How had I managed this? I didn’t have time to question it. Instead, I shut the door behind me. I was in a small, dark, and quiet kitchen, and the light from the living room was coming from straight ahead. I moved to the left, into a laundry room, and looked around. The house smelled musty and closed up, I guessed from being empty for so long. There were piles of clothes on the floor in front of the washer and an overflowing hamper
in the far corner. The oversized sink smelled of mildew and had what looked like wet cigarette butts in its drain.
I moved along the wall, following the shadows, and came to a hallway. To my right was the staircase that led upstairs—led to Gray. To my left was a door. I hurried up the stairs, taking quiet but quick steps on my way to the second floor. As soon as I took the last step, a door opened, and I saw her emerge. She had her back to me, and I darted into the door to my right before she turned around. The room was pitch black, but I didn’t dare turn on any lights.
I stayed completely still, breathing heavily as I waited for her footsteps to carry on down the stairs. She was slow to go, and for a moment, I didn’t hear anything. But eventually, thankfully, I heard her traveling back downstairs.
I counted to thirty, giving her time to settle in once I imagined she’d had time to arrive in the living room, and then I opened the door.
When I did, I froze. The house was dark. The television and light from downstairs had been turned off.
Where was she?
I moved to shut the door back and heard footsteps coming, returning up the stairs, and my heart pounded harder. Who was it? Just her? Or someone else? Was it Ben? The man I’d met at the house who I didn’t have a name for? What if I was in her bedroom? I ran a hand along the wall, searching for a sign as to what room I was in. I connected with a light switch as I heard her growing closer but passed over it, searching for more. My hand connected with a piece of cool, flat metal. A mirror. I dropped my hands, feeling along the sticky, grimy counter. I was in a bathroom. I glided across the room as I heard someone moving at the top of the staircase and felt for a bathtub. I would hide behind the curtain if someone came in. As I made contact with the glass panes of a walk-in shower, my heart sank. There was no way I could hide there.
The Liar's Wife Page 13
