by Nicole Casey
I couldn’t blame Jordan for her reaction, but I wish she’d just waited a moment before resorting to such a severe course of action. “It is. She’s actually my children’s nanny, and I just think we overwhelmed her. Thank you for caring for her. I’ll find her and bring her home.”
“Okay,” the woman said. “I gotta go, but this is my apartment, so just let me know if I can help.”
“Thanks,” I responded, and the woman started off down the hallway. I waited a little bit and then made my own way back out of the apartment and down to my car. Once inside, I called Ethan. “Yo.”
“What the fuck? I’ve been trying to get ahold of someone for hours and no one is responding to me,” Ethan hissed.
“Yeah, look, I don’t have time to give you the whole documentary right now, but Harrison is actually in witness protection. He was accused of doing some horrible stuff, that he obviously didn’t do, but someone with it out for him sent some of the photos from the crime scene to Jordan and she freaked out and disappeared. I’m in front of her apartment now, and she isn’t here and her neighbor said she left in a panic this morning. No idea where she went,” I explained. “I’m gonna work with Cade to see if we can figure out where these pictures came from, but I may need you to worry about the kids. We’re also going to have to figure out what to tell them about where Jordan has gone. They’re gonna freak out when she doesn’t pick them up.”
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Ethan said. “We need to go into damage control mode. I’ll deal with the kids and hold down the fort, and you and Cade get started on figuring out who sent her the photos and where she’s gone to. I’ll get Lowe and Rogan on Harrison duty to keep him from going off the deep end.”
Ethan was truly the leader we needed. “Sounds good. I’ll call Cade. Keep us posted.”
“I will, you too,” Ethan said, and then the line went dead.
I sent Cade a text telling him to meet me back at my office. We were going to need to exercise our channels to investigate the strange goings on with Jordan and the package. The phone dinged and I smiled at the message on the screen.
‘We will use the law as long as it works for us, and as soon as it doesn’t, we’ll deliver this mystery man the justice he deserves by any means necessary.’
I typed a response. ‘You read my mind. If I have my way, I’ll stick my gun in this guy’s mouth myself.’
20
Cade
I used the trip to meet up with Oliver to do a bit of my own research. I had more contacts and inroads in legal channels than most people had in their social circles, and I knew that I could track down the people who’d reached out to Jordan and get my hands around their necks myself. I took all the information Oliver and Harrison were able to provide to me, and called out to everyone I knew who would be able to check around their places of business and tell me more.
The first thread I chose to follow was Oliver’s telling me that the packages had been delivered to Jordan. That meant, above all else, that someone knew Jordan’s address and had to give that information to whomever delivered the package. I called my contact at the post office, hopeful that he would be willing to give me some answers. He was a former witness in a case of mine and wasn’t my number one fan, but where power couldn’t make a man talk, money typically could. He was able to inform me that the package had been delivered via certified mail the day prior, but clammed up when it came to giving me a point of origin.
“You do know that my compatriots and I are very wealthy,” I told him, furious that I even had to stoop to such levels to get information I would otherwise take by force. The situation required finesse and I needed the people I was questioning to handle the circumstances with discretion. “What would it take for us to be able to figure out exactly where that package came from?”
“I could do some digging,” the contact told me, “but it will take a little bit of time, and you know tampering with the mail is a federal crime. If I’m going to risk it, I suppose I at least need to be able to cover any fee I would incur if I was caught.”
“Name your price,” I growled.
“A thousand bucks should suffice,” he said and I rolled my eyes.
“Fine,” I responded. “You get me the info I need, and we can compare notes over coffee as soon as you’re done.”
“I’ll get started right away,” he replied. “Have a wonderful day, sir.”
“Fuck you, you prick,” I hissed, and hung up the phone.
I texted Oliver a quick update, we were being extorted for info, but his response matched my sentiments entirely.
‘It’s for Jordan, so I’ll pay whatever I have to,’ it read.
That was exactly it. Jordan meant the world to us and our children. Any amount of money spent to get her back home was well worth it. I met up with him at his office, and we used some of Oliver’s contact in the department to begin having a handwriting test, paper test, and fingerprinting of the photos done to lend aid to our search for the mysterious asshole who was turning our lives upside down. As with the man at the post office, many people turned their noses up at us until we could flash some money. We had to pay to have the tests run, and pay extra to have them expedited, but I was keeping a list in my mind. Anyone who wasn’t willing to help for the sake of having a friend on the inside would be remembered. They would come to regret working us over for money one day, even if I was willing to pay it to get our girl back.
The day of research ended with my contact at the post office informing me that he had in fact found some information about the package that had been sent. He didn’t have a name, but he did have an address in West Palm Beach, and it would take a little more investigation on the ground in Florida to figure out exactly who sent the package over.
I called a guy I knew in Florida, a seedy fellow by the name of Liam.
“Well, if it isn’t A.D.A. Cade,” he answered the phone. “Still putting away the world’s worst?”
“Well, you’re still out there, so apparently not,” I responded, and he chuckled. “You still got a sick kid?”
Liam was a Florida drug lord who, after having a child with severe physical disabilities, tried to turn over a new leaf and become a contact for the F.B.I. Whenever I ended up working cases that crossed state lines, federal agencies would provide lists of people who could be reached out to who were willing to help answer questions for the feds. After meeting Liam for the first time, I learned that he discovered straight and narrow wasn’t as lucrative as the crooked and corrupt and went back into his life of crime, doubling down on drugs and pimping. With a child with such outrageous medical needs, money spoke strongly to him, and he was willing to do just about anything to get his hands on it.
He let out a shallow whistle. “Right for the gut, eh, Cade?”
“I don’t have time to waste,” I replied. “I’ve got some money if you can help me out.”
“How much?” he responded.
“How about you send me all your outstanding medical bills, and I’ll make them go away?” I retorted. It was two fold. I was a father before anything else. I couldn’t imagine having no money and a child with thousands of dollars in medical bills. If I could protect an innocent child and get answers to my questions, it was a win-win. “Well?”
Liam sounded a little shocked. “If you’re serious, you’ve got access to the full gamut of services.”
“You’ve got my email. Get them to me, and I’ll handle it, but then I really do expect everything you’ve got,” I said.
“You make those bills go away, and you need not worry about a thing,” he said. “What do you need?”
“I’ve got an address for you. Someone sent a threatening package certified mail to a friend of mine. I need you to find out who it was and get me any information you can,” I explained.
“Want me to rough them up when I find them?” Liam asked. “Make them disappear?”
“Not just yet,” I replied, “but maybe take a note of the address.”
Whoever it was who was sending the photos to Jordan, they had a rude awakening headed their way, probably in the way of a money-hungry Floridian drug lord.
21
Jordan
I knocked on the door in front of me, desperate to see someone’s face I could actually trust. It opened and Khloe appeared on the other side. Her brown hair was pulled back into a messy bun, and she was wearing a comfy outfit of leggings and a hoodie.
“Jordan?” She lifted the sleeve of her hoodie and peeked at her smart watch. “What are you doing here?” She pulled me inside her door, into a tight hug. “You look awful.” She pushed me away, and closed the door. “I mean, not awful. You look beautiful, but you look like you’ve been through hell.”
“I have been,” I said. “Can I stay here for a few days?”
“Of course,” Khloe responded. “What’s going on?”
She took my bags and set them aside and ushered me over to the couch. She disappeared into the kitchen, and a few moments later I could hear a cork popping out of a bottle. It was still morning, but I could certainly use a drink. Khloe came back into the room, holding out a flute glass with an orange liquid inside.
“A mimosa,” I said lovingly as I took the drink. It was perfect for helping me deal with what had happened with Harrison.
“Okay, out with it,” Khloe said, settling down onto the couch next to me and took a sip of her drink.
“Well, you know how I’d told you my nanny gig had ended up being more than just one family, but it was actually six?” I began.
“Yeah,” Khloe said. “All single dads, right? Weren’t you getting involved with them?”
I nodded. “Yeah. It was just a sort of fling thing at first, but I messed around and let my heart get involved and now I’m in love with them.”
“Well, what’s wrong with that?” Khloe said. “Didn’t you say they were really into you too?”
“Yeah, but…” I took a deep breath. “I just found out that one of them, Harrison, wasn’t who he said he was. He’s a murderer who killed his ex wife! And there’s no way that the other guys didn’t know the truth; they’re so tight-knit. They might have even been involved too. They all have these jobs that are ideal if you’re undercover killers.”
“Oh my god,” Khloe yelped. “Are you serious? Do you think they were going to do you too?”
My heart was breaking talking about the guys in such a negative tone. “Yes! The woman in the picture that was sent to me looks just like me.”
“Wait, picture? What are you talking about?” Khloe asked.
“That’s how I found out. Someone sent me some pictures anonymously and a couple of threatening letters,” I replied.
Khloe took another drink of her mimosa. “Wow, so someone who knows them found you and sent you the letters? Aren’t you curious about who sent it to you?”
I hadn’t thought about that. I was so concerned with the fact that it had happened, that I hadn’t stopped for a moment to actually consider who sent it. All I knew was that it scared me that I’d somehow gotten myself caught up with murderers.
“It all scares me,” I responded simply. “I just had to get away from that.”
“Of course you did,” Khloe said. She reached out and rubbed my hand. “Well, it’s okay. You can stay here as long as you need.”
“Thanks,” I said.
I wasn’t sure how long I was planning to stay away. I knew that pretty soon the kids would be realizing that I wasn’t there to pick them up, and that thought broke my heart. Some of the kids had even started thinking of me as a mom to them, and given that all of them lost their mothers earlier in their lives, I hated thinking I was letting them down too. I started to cry, and Khloe must have realized I was losing control of my emotions, because she scooted closer to me in very ‘time to dish’ type fashion.
“Okay, wanna hear a story to take your mind off of it all?” she asked, reaching up to wipe the tears away from my face.
I nodded. “Yes please.”
“So, I’ve been working this wedding for this woman right, and you remember the hubby’s seven groomsmen I’ve told you about?” she began, recounting what she’d already told me before. “You’ve heard of bridezilla, or even groomzilla? This is groomsmenzilla.” I started to chuckle through my tears. “I’m serious!” she whined, laughing along. “They’re insufferable. They’re pulling me in all these different directions, and they would be satisfied to have this wedding in a sports bar with BBQ wings and sliders.”
“Stop it,” I managed to squawk out.
“Girl, they’re too much,” Khloe continued. “It’s worse because they’re all drop dead gorgeous, and charming, so they’re convinced they can get away with anything they want, and from what I’ve seen, they aren’t wrong.” She let out a long, deep, exasperated sigh. “They’re going to be the death of me.”
“You’ll figure it out,” I told her. “You always do.”
“Maybe,” she replied. “But believe me when I say I need this mimosa too.”
We continued to enjoy our brunch drink and chatted about subjects that kept things light, but my heart still felt heavy. I wanted nothing more than to rewind the last 24 hours and act like they had never happened. Harrison meant so much to me. Of all the dads, I trusted him the most, and he betrayed that trust; suddenly I was painfully aware of the fact that I had no reason to believe anything any of them had told me. Were any of the others closeted criminals? Why would they hurt me so badly?
Khloe did her best to keep me from getting too depressed, but there was only so much she could do. I wasn’t just going through one heartbreak, I was going through six; even more considering the fact that I was pained over disappointing the kids too. I was a wreck. When the nighttime came, I opted to turn in early, hopeful that sleep would bring me at least a little bit of peace, but I was wrong. When I could manage to drift off, I was plagued, not with nightmares, but with blissful dreams of me and the guys, all gathered around a Christmas tree, opening gifts with the kids. I imagined their smiling faces as they realized they’d gotten everything they asked for, and watching the guys be floored by the presents I’d helped the kids picked out for them. It was tooth-rottingly sweet, and when I woke up in the morning to find it wasn’t real, all I could do was cry. I wanted my happy life back and I had to come to terms with the fact that I was never going to have that again.
I entered day two separated from the guys and the kids with the worst realization of the entire horrible process settling over me: I was still madly in love with them all, Harrison the murderer included.
22
Ethan
A Week Later
“No, daddy! That’s not the way Jordan does it!”
David’s shrill voice piercing my thoughts caused me to drop the bowl in my hand, sending it sailing to the ground and shattering upon impact. I’d been his father for six years, Jordan had been his nanny for two months, yet somehow I was making his cereal wrong.
“Well Jordan’s not here, is she?” I barked. David recoiled, and I immediately felt terrible. Tears started to gather in the corners of his eyes and I crouched down and pulled him into a hug. “I’m sorry, buddy. I got frustrated. That wasn’t fair to yell at you.”
What David didn’t know was that I missed Jordan just as much as him, if not more. I hadn’t fully explained her prolonged absence to the twins, or any of the children for that matter. Whenever they asked about her, I just told them that she was taking some time for herself and would be back soon. I hated telling them that, not just because they didn’t really want to accept it as an answer, but because I had no idea if that was true or not. We had no idea where she had gone, and even once we found her, there was no guarantee that she was going to come back to us. Harrison had kept some pretty huge secrets, and even if we could convince her that he didn’t kill his ex-wife, he had kept his real name from her; that kind of thing wasn’t easy to forgive.
I allowed Davin to hand-hold me through doing
some things the way Jordan would do it to help the boys adjust, but the truth was that they felt what all of us dads had felt; Jordan was the one. She was the link that was missing in our family, and with her being gone, all of us could feel it. The kids were less happy, the dads were less happy, and we were taking it out on one another. Once the kids were off to school, I decided to call an emergency meeting of the dads. We had to figure something out; we needed our cornerstone back.
Oliver was walking through my kitchen slamming my cabinets when he arrived that afternoon. “What the fuck, Ethan?”
“What?” I replied.
“Where’s all the booze?” he barked.
“It’s 10 o’clock in the morning,” Lowe responded.
Oliver whipped around on his heel. “Hey Lowe, look at me.” He was pointing a pair of fingers towards his eyes. “Look into my eyes.”
“I’m looking at you, you fucking weirdo,” Lowe replied.
“I don’t give a shit what time of day it is. I want a drink,” Oliver hissed, then turned his gaze to me. “Well?”
“Jordan has been gone for a week. You think I have booze left?” I responded. “I’ve been drinking it like water.”
It was true. I tried to be careful with my alcohol intake, as both my father and my grandfather had developed alcoholism later in life, but I was missing my woman, I needed something to stifle the pain.
“I’ve been having it delivered daily,” Rogan said. “I can’t get over it. I’ve been with dozens of women. Why does this one hurt so bad?”
“Because she was everything,” Harrison added, with a thick sadness to his voice. “She was perfect, and I ruined it.” His head drooped low. “I’m so sorr--”
“Nope!” Oliver yelled. “Nope, nope. We’re not doing this.” He walked over at smacked Harrison gently on the back of the head. “No more self-pity.”
