by Dana Mason
When Jamie pulled back, he had tears in his eyes too. Watching them forced a lump to rise in Johnny’s throat. Ali wiped her face then smiled at Jamie. “Hi, baby.”
Jamie’s chest was heaving from his sobs and he couldn’t talk. Ali wiped his face, and tried to sooth him. When Johnny didn’t think he could watch any longer and keep his composure, he stood up and slowly left the room. He walked into the dining room, and looked around at the agents.
“Anyone smoke?” He asked.
Simms handed him a cigarette and a lighter.
He nodded thanks and slipped out the back door. When he turned out onto the patio, he found Mark and Sarah looking back at him.
“Oh—sorry. I’ll give y’all some privacy.”
“Johnny,” Sarah said before he could leave. “Wait, I want to talk to you.”
“I’ll meet you inside,” Mark said to Sarah before retreating into the house. Johnny lit the cigarette and started pacing the patio not sure he was ready to talk to Sarah, the rawness of his conversation with Ali still grated on him and he knew Sarah would find a way to make him talk. She had that way about her. You could never just avoid a question or change the subject without her pushing for what she wanted.
“I brought you some clothes.”
Johnny cleared his throat. “Thanks.”
“Are you okay?”
He nodded then turned to pace in the other direction.
“You’re a bad liar,” she said.
He looked over his shoulder and gave her a crooked smile.
“How are you feeling? Mark said you were pretty banged up by that car.”
He swiveled on his bare heel and faced her. “I’m fine. Just some scrapes is all.”
“Talk to me. I know this isn’t easy for you.”
“What can I say? Micah is gone because I couldn’t stop them.”
“That’s not the way I hear it.” She sighed and shook her head, her eyes darting to the ground. “What is it with you men always blaming yourselves when people get hurt?” Her voice shook a little.
He examined her more closely. “Are you okay?”
“No, I’m a wreck . . . and a coward.” She wiped her face and tried to smile.
Johnny approached her. “What are you talking about?”
“I’m out here hiding from Ali. I don’t know what to say to her.”
Johnny tossed his cigarette aside and hugged her, unable to ignore the tears dropping from her eyes.
“I don’t know what to say to her either,” Johnny whispered. “She’s a mess and I keep trying to comfort her but now she . . .” He stopped at the wavering weakness in his voice. “She is trying to say this happened because of her . . . because of us.”
“That’s absurd,” Sarah said. “Almost as absurd as you blaming yourself, right?”
He withdrew from the hug and looked down at her protruding stomach. “How’s the belly?”
She rested her hand on her baby bump. “Fine.”
Johnny went back to pacing, wishing he still had the cigarette.
“I didn’t know you smoked,” Sarah said.
“I don’t. Quit a couple of years ago, but sometimes I just need a smoke.”
When the patio door slid open, Johnny turned to see Mark stepping outside.
“Sorry, Mark. I’m sure you want to spend some time with your wife—didn’t mean to monopolize.”
“No biggie, I can wait my turn,” Mark said as Johnny started toward the door.
“Hey, Johnny Rhay, I left your clothes in a duffle bag at the bottom of the stairs.”
He nodded then slipped into the house.
Johnny grabbed the duffle and hobbled upstairs to change his clothes. When he got up there, he heard talking coming from one of the bedrooms. He peeked in and found Ali sitting on Jamie’s bed while Jamie sat on the floor playing and rattling on about the Grand Canyon. Ali wore the most defeated gaze, but whenever Jamie looked up at her, the expression changed to pure interest. Johnny had to wonder how much of what Jamie said actually got through to her.
Ali watched through the bedroom window as Sarah drove away with Jamie in the backseat. Both her sons were being cared for by other women . . . at least she hoped Micah was being cared for. She felt like a failure . . . as a mother, as a woman. She couldn’t protect her son when he most needed protection. Her stomach flipped at the thought of Micah being hurt. What kind of person would hurt such a sweet boy?
Everyone loved Micah. She couldn’t go anywhere without receiving compliments and people mooning over him. The doctor’s office, grocery store, even when she stopped for the Chinese food to take to Johnny’s . . .”Chinese food.”
“You want Chinese Food?” Johnny asked, stepping into the room as Ali turned.
“Holy hell, Johnny.” She held her hand out to him. “The Chinese Food—I need to see the surveillance video again.”
“Do you remember something?”
“I think so.” She rushed passed him, her heart in her throat. That woman—was it the same person? All that long, dark, curly hair—damn it, why hadn’t she made the connection earlier. She ran into the dining room and stopped suddenly as everyone stared at her with confused expressions. She stuck her palm to her forehead, trying to control the head rush she had from the jolt of adrenaline.
“Mark, I need to watch the surveillance video again. Can you queue it up for me.”
He narrowed his eyes at her. “Are you okay?”
“Yes, but”—she waved her hand around frantically—“I think I’ve seen that woman before.”
Every chair in the dining room scooted across the hardwood floor and within seconds, five men were staring down at her. “Mrs. Hayes, are you sure?”
“No! I’m not sure. I need to watch the video.”
Mark rushed back to the table and sat in front of his laptop, punching keys, his brow furrowed. “It’s here, Ali.” He stood and waved a hand to his chair.
She walked over, followed by her entourage and sat, staring at the laptop until Mark stabbed a button and the footage started. She and Johnny walking to the car, Johnny quickly pushing Micah’s stroller and her out of the way at the same time, and in different directions. It all happened so fast . . . then the woman’s face. It was a flash, but that’s not what got Ali’s attention. It was the overabundance of dark curly hair that stood out.
“Mark, can you zoom in on her face?”
“Yeah, let me . . .” He turned the laptop toward him and punched a few keys, his eyes narrowing then widening. “How’s that?” He turned the laptop back around, and Ali’s pulse accelerated to a manic pace.
“Oh my God.” She rubbed at her chest, her breath coming in spurts. “Oh God, Brian. I have seen her before.”
“Where? What’s her name? Tell me everything you know about her,” Brian said.
Ali looked up from the laptop into five sets of eyes, all staring at her. “I don’t know her . . . but we chatted in the Chinese restaurant when I went to pick up lunch.” She glanced at Johnny. “The day I came to your house. She complimented Micah, smiled and cooed at him.” Her voice wavered. “I didn’t . . . people are always smiling at him, telling me how cute he is, I didn’t know . . .”
“Ali, it’s not your fault. You couldn’t have known,” Johnny said resting his hands on her shoulders. “They’re going to need details.”
“You said lunch, what time exactly? Do you remember? They might have their own surveillance camera. Maybe we can get a better shot of her,” Agent Peters asked.
“It was last Wednesday.” She bolted out of her chair. “The receipt might still be in my purse.”
“Your purse is in the bedroom. I’ll get it.” Johnny raced from the room and was back within a minute, breathing heavily. He handed Ali the purse and she reached into her wallet, flipping through several crumpled receipts.
“Here!” She pulled it out and straightened it. “The Dynasty.”
Agent Peter’s took the receipt and jotted down the details. “Let’s
get over there.”
“We should take Mark, he’s the surveillance expert,” Brian said.
Mark smiled and said, “The Dynasty is in the Eastside Plaza, we contract with them. I’ve got cameras in the parking lot. Even if the restaurant doesn’t get a shot, I bet I’ve already got one.”
“Ali, do you know if she bought food while she was there?” Agent Peters asked.
“Yeah . . . well, she came in after me and ordered while I was waiting for our food. Even asked me about the menu and what was good. I didn’t wait around to see if she paid, I left before she did.”
“If she paid by credit card . . .” Johnny said.
“Let’s hope she did,” Brian said, smiling wide. “Let’s go.”
Ali took a steadying deep breath and dropped back down into a chair, glancing up at Johnny. Before she could say a word, the dining room door swung open and her mother walked into the room. Ali stood, surprised to see how incredibly tired she looked. Her mother walked over and wrapped her arms around Ali’s waist, squeezing tight and taking a shuddering breath. “He’s got to be okay, Ali.”
Ali nodded, unable to respond through her tears. After a moment, Ali pulled back to looked at her mother’s face. It was tear streaked and puffy. Dark rings circled her eyes and worry lines creased her forehead. Ali brushed the hair off her face and said, “I know. I can’t imagine anyone hurting him either.”
“Are you okay? I woke up this morning to your face on the front page of my newspaper. When I turned the news on, they were showing your statement.”
Ali rolled her eyes. “Are they calling that blubbering mess a statement?” She fought back a chuckle then her smile faded. “I was a mess, but I’m okay, Mom.”
“I needed to see with my own eyes.” She glanced down at her feet and took a deep breath, then looked back at Ali. “I saw the surveillance video . . . I saw what he did.” A tear rolled down her cheek. “I’m sorry, Ali. I’m so glad he was with you. Anything could’ve happened.”
Ali fought her own tears and pushed for a steady voice. “Mother, I am okay. I promise. Johnny is taking good care of me . . . he really is a great guy, you know.”
Susan brushed the tears from her face, nodding at the same time. “I think I owe him an apology.”
Ali scanned the room to see Johnny had left. “Maybe give him a day or two. He’s having a little trouble with Micah’s disappearance too . . . and he’s not too comfortable with the role of hero.”
“Okay . . . do you need me here? I’ll stay . . .”
“No, I’m fine. I have Johnny and Mark . . . Brian too.” Ali tilted her head and said, “Thank you for asking Brian to be the family spokesperson. I know that must have been hard for you.”
Susan pursed her lips and bobbed her head before she said, “Mr. and Mrs. Hammel suggested it. And . . . it’s about time I gave the boy a chance to make up for what he did to your sister.” She smiled and Ali felt a surge of pride for her mother.
“Mom, you’re getting soft in your old age.”
“I know . . . but that’s a good thing, right?”
Ali nodded and hugged her again. “It is a good thing. I’m hoping Melissa, Brian and Julie can finally come together and get over everything that happened in the past.”
Susan’s eyes grew wide. “Oh, yes, Julie and Melissa were talking a mile a minute last night at the Volunteer Center. They looked like they were getting along great.”
“Good. I’m so glad. Maybe something good can come from this.” Her smile dropped down into a frown and she fought to take a breath. When her mother’s eyes narrowed she whispered, “I really am fine. I just miss him so much.”
“Me too . . .”
Chapter Sixteen
When her mother was gone, Ali walked into the living room to find Johnny sitting in the quiet room, alone. She stepped up behind him and laid her hands on his shoulders. He leaned his head back to see her, “How you holding up, sweetheart?”
“I’m still breathing,” she said.
He stood and walked around the couch and took her hand. “Come on, you need to eat something.”
Ali followed him into the dining room, which was empty, save agent Newman, manning the phones. She stared at the equipment, uneasiness settling in. What if they’d tried to take Micah when she was alone? How desperate was this woman? Was this really a black market situation or was she looking for a child to have as her own? The thought of that scared Ali more than the idea of him being illegally adopted. What if they left the state—or the country?
Even so, if he was stolen for black market adoption, they had likely taken him out of state already. Oh God. She plopped down in a chair and rested her head in her hands.
She didn’t know how long she sat like that, but she nearly jumped out of her skin when Johnny placed his hand under her elbow, encouraging her to rise from the chair. “Sweet, you promised me you would eat something. Let’s go sit down and see what’s happening on the news while we eat this spaghetti.”
She lifted her head, nodding and slowly stood, her body heavy.
When she took a seat on the sofa, Johnny handed her a plate of spaghetti. The scent drifted to Ali’s nose and it made her a little light headed. She swallowed back sick and took the fork Johnny offered.
“Eat,” he said, glaring at her as he sat down, flipping the TV on with the remote. “Brian said it was Channel Two News, right?”
“Yes,” she said, taking a small bite of food when he looked over at her. She methodically chewed and swallowed.
When the booming voice of the newscaster bellowed from the TV, she glanced up in time to get a look at herself, red faced and crying. It looked worse than she’d thought. She was a mess, a complete wreck. She shook her head and said, “What the hell was I thinking when I went out there?”
“I think that’s the issue, you weren’t thinking.”
The Ali on TV looked sick, and withdrawn. Probably not the angle Brian and the FBI were going for.
Johnny leaned in and put his plate down to focus harder on the TV. Ali took that as a sign that she could stop eating too. She quietly laid her fork on her plate but left it in her lap.
The ticker on the bottom of the screen scrolled the phone number for people to call in with tips on Micah’s disappearance, also a brief description of him and what he was wearing. Every so often Micah’s picture would flash up, and replace the picture of her in tears.
Ali remembered the bright lights and not being able to see faces through all the flashes. She spoke directly into the camera, hoping some humanity lay beyond the lights. Did it? Was the dark haired woman watching this, and regretting what she’d done? Ali stared intently as her eyes moved from her own face to Johnny’s face, wondering what other people saw when they watched this.
What would the public think about her, about Carl, about them not standing out there together? She felt more insecure about herself than she ever had. Never did she think someone would question her devotion to her children, but now . . . would people question her involvement? Question her ability to protect and care for her kids? What would she think if she were a neutral party, watching this as a bystander . . . with her boys safely tucked into their beds? She made herself nauseous at the thought and she had to put her plate down to place a hand over her stomach.
She looked over at Johnny and he looked just as sick as she felt. He watched with intent eyes as the Ali on TV pleaded with anyone listening to bring her baby home.
“I want my baby back. I don’t care what the reason was; I don’t care who you are or how much it will cost me. I just want my son home safely.” She looked directly into the camera. “My family . . . and my life are incomplete without Micah. He belongs here with us.”
Once she’d got the words out, she couldn’t hold herself together any longer. Her face broke and flashes erupted around her and Johnny. For a split second, Johnny’s face flashed into the most painful expression she’d ever seen. Then he tucked her into his chest, holding her close. He he
ld love in his eyes. Did the public see that? Did she want them too?
She should’ve shouted her feelings for him from the rooftop, be proud to have such a person in her life and such a wonderful person who cares for her children. She felt Johnny squeeze her hand so she looked up.
“You’re very strong, you know.” He gave her a slight smile.
Ali didn’t realize she’d fallen asleep until she heard the crying. She gasped and jerked up, almost falling off Johnny’s lap.
“Ali, it’s okay,” he stroked her face and tried to relax her, but she heard the crying. Her body trembled as her eyes darted around the room. She stood and took a few steps. It was plain as day, Micah was upset and she could hear him, but where was he?
Johnny took her arm, but she pulled away. “Micah is crying. I can hear”—she shook her head—“he’s upset,” she said looking at Johnny and clutching at the tightening in her chest.
“You were having a dream, sweetheart.”
“He’s crying for me.” Her voice broke this time, bringing Johnny closer. “No”—she held her hand out to him—“I can feel him.” Her voice caught in her throat and she tried to take a deep breath. “I need some air.”
She rushed through the living room then the dining room and kitchen and out to the backyard. It was a clear night with no clouds, and a warm breeze.
Micah was out there. She could feel him. She closed her eyes and let the warm breeze brush her face. The tension in her chest slowly loosened as she inhaled the night air, concentrating on her son. She knew he’d calmed, she knew it in her soul. That’s right, baby, everything will be okay.
When Johnny came up behind her, Ali turned into him. “I think he’s okay.” She took a shuddering breath and said, “I feel like he’s upset, but safe.”
Johnny squeezed gently and kissed her forehead. “I know, sweetheart.” He placed a finger under her chin and said, “Let’s go inside and go to bed. You need some rest in-case he comes home tomorrow.”
“No, I want to wait for Agent Peters and Brian. I want to know what they found out today.”
