by Pamela Crane
Only a handful of kids scrambled all over the playground on this warm sunny day. I scanned the perimeter for parents and found a group of moms huddled under the pavilion, and a man sitting beneath a tree. The distance blurred his features, but it looked to be her father absorbed in his phone.
I approached the little girl on the swing and offered to push her.
“Need any help getting super high in the sky?” I asked in a playful voice as I walked up behind her.
She scrunched her face at me. “I’m able to push myself, thanks. But you can swing next to me if you want.”
Ah, now I understood the face scrunching. I had talked down to her. Ten-year-olds were more articulate than I thought.
“You’re not around many kids my age, are you?” She smiled to soften the blow. At this age she would want to prove her maturity.
“Not really, no. How old are you?” I asked, though I already knew the answer.
“Ten. But I’m small for my age. People always think I’m younger.”
“Nothing wrong with being small. You can hide easier.”
“Why would I want to hide?”
“Oh, I don’t know. I guess if you’re playing hide-and-seek.”
“I don’t like that game.”
“Why? I thought all kids loved hide-and-seek.”
“I don’t like being chased. It scares me.”
“Me too, kid. Me too.”
“I like your shirt,” she said. “It matches your eyes.”
I leaned forward, meeting her gaze. “Hey, it matches your eyes too. We have the same eye color. Green.”
“Yeah, I’m the only one in my family with this color. Everyone else has blue.”
“What if we were long-lost sisters? Wouldn’t that be cool?” I instantly regretted it the moment I said it. It was too much too soon.
Thankfully she giggled. “You’re too old to be my sister! Though it’d be nice to have an older sister. All I have is a younger brother, and he’s exhausting. I guess that’s why Mom calls it the terrible twos, though he’s already three. He’s constantly messing up my room.”
I chuckled. “That’s what siblings are for—to wear us out and keep us on our toes.” Not that I knew this from experience. My only sibling had been taken away from me the day she was born. “So what’s your name?” I already knew this answer too.
“Vera.”
She didn’t look like a Vera to me. “Oh, that’s a unique name.” Unique was the best adjective I could find for a name like that.
“I’m named after my great-great-grandmother Alvera Fields. She was a women’s rights activist and disappeared one day. No one ever found her.”
“Well, that’s morbid. Why would your parents name you after a missing ancestor?”
“Because she was pretty heroic, I guess. She was well-known around Pittsburgh for her women’s suffrage work. She raised tons of money for the cause by throwing huge fundraiser parties. I guess her husband knew a lot of rich people.”
Rich. Well-connected. Sounded a lot like the Portman family alright. The difference was that Felicity took advantage of a grieving father’s terrible situation by basically stealing his newborn baby from him. A few hundred dollars could never make what Felicity Portman did right, no matter how much she needed to sleep soundly at night. It was black market child trafficking.
“Wow, you’re very articulate. Do you know what that means?”
She nibbled on her lower lip in thought. “Knowing a lot of words?”
“Yeah, that’s right. Plus you seem pretty smart and know so much about history. Most kids your age don’t even know what women’s suffrage is. I learned everything I know about it from watching Suffragette.”
“Most adults don’t know much either, especially if they’re getting their history lesson from a fiction movie.”
I chuckled. This one was clever, alright. Just like her father—the biological one. “That’s probably true. How’d you get so smart?”
“I read a lot. And I take after my mom, I guess.” No, honey, those brains definitely didn’t come from your mother. “She’s really smart and loves books. We have a library so big that it has a rolling ladder to reach the top shelves. Though my dad’s pretty smart too. He’s teaching me how to build stuff and draw.”
“It sounds like you have a good dad. Is that him over there?” I pointed to a swing under a tree where a man intently watched us.
“No, that’s Uncle Cody. My dad’s at work.”
I flipped a wave at Uncle Cody, and he waved back and stood up. Uh-oh. I hadn’t intended to meet the family. But it was too late to leave now.
“Hi there. I’m Marin.” I extended my hand as he approached. “I’m having a nice chat with your niece.”
“Cody.” He cupped my hand in his. It felt soft, nice, warm…like a home should. “You make it a habit to talk with random little girls at parks?” He smiled. It was a joke laced with accusation.
“No, this is a first for me. You make it a habit to interrogate all your niece’s new friends?”
“Only ones as pretty as you.”
“Ew, Uncle Cody!” Vera squealed.
There she was—the child beneath the big-girl façade.
Cody wasn’t my normal type—only a couple inches taller than me, pudge rounding out his clean-shaven features, decked in athletic wear, early signs of hair loss. He was the whitest white boy I’d ever seen—pasty white, like the love child of Robert Pattinson and Kristen Stewart of Twilight. I preferred the musclemen with tight torn jeans, lots of scruff, and a fedora. But his smile was genuine and his laugh easy. I could envision myself cuddled on the couch with this one. After all, where had all the hipster men gotten me? Still living in my old bedroom with my father because they wouldn’t commit. Cody looked like a guy ready to commit. And I needed to get as close to Vera as possible if there was any way to save her.
Because I knew the truth. She needed saving before this entitled family dragged her into their web of lies even more. I doubted they’d ever told her who her real family was, or how they bought her life off the street. Maybe that’s why I was here—to give this girl a real education.
As Cody hopped on the swing next to me, Vera’s joy swelled. I watched her adoration glow for this man who called her niece. Maybe it wasn’t my place to deflate it. For what purpose? Uncle Cody had somehow managed to get me all mixed up.
All three of us swung in unison while Cody dared Vera to swing higher, higher, higher while I laughed louder, louder, louder. For the next several hours we talked, we laughed, we flirted, we teased. Cody on my left, Vera on my right. And that’s exactly how everything felt for the first time in so long—right.
Chapter 41
Felicity
I was exhausted and agitated and starving by the time Oliver parked the car on the narrow street. Tiny ant legs skittered over my feet from sitting in the car too long driving all over Pittsburgh, under a low autumn sun that lit the leaves on fire while we searched for the Grandview Avenue address Ari Wilburn gave me. We found the house, but no Bennett Hunter. The place had long been dark and empty. Cobwebs hung over the door, and a peek through several dusty windows revealed not a scrap of furniture. Completely vacant. Abandoned.
Driving around, talking in hypotheticals around how Marin was involved, Oliver and I didn’t know what else to do, so we went to the one person who could answer our questions. We went to the source.
Side by side, one after the other, the lean row houses ignited to life beneath the bedazzled sky, while Cody’s remained in brooding darkness. Oliver stepped out of the car first, but I couldn’t seem to move across the leather seat. Every interaction with Cody was a strategic game of Risk. Tactical. Dangerous.
I hadn’t told Oliver about the kiss yet, and I wasn’t sure I ever would. He had forgiven me once before for cheating, but a second time? No. But there the secret hung on the tip of my tongue, waiting to slip out. When the three of us—me, C
ody, Oliver—were together, and lately Cody had been drinking more and more, the secret became more slippery. One innuendo, one side-look, it would only take one tug to unravel the whole damn ball.
My phone buzzed. A text from Debra that the kids ate grilled cheese and soup for dinner, and they were in jammies watching a movie before bed. I imagined Sydney in her Cookie Monster slippers and Strawberry Shortcake nightgown, curled up next to Nana asking a million and one questions throughout the entire film while Eliot, the serious one, shushed her so he could hear. For six months I missed out on these simple joys, and I needed them back.
Oliver was already slamming his fist against the wooden front door by the time I got out of the car. Across the yard I could hear the pounding echo through the home’s innards. By the time Cody yanked the door open with a groan, Ollie was worked up. Clipping Cody’s shoulders on his way inside, Oliver cut through the house to the living room, grumbling, ranting, raving.
“We know Bennett Hunter has Vera. Tell us the truth about what’s going on, Cody!”
Cody barely had a moment to catch up before he closed the door behind me, then trailed us with a wobbly shuffle.
“Whoa, rewind a minute. I’m not following. What’s going on?” Cody’s voice was groggy with sleep. At dinnertime? His downhill slide into depression was unmistakable.
“Bennett Hunter—you know, Marin’s father? We know about him.”
Cody squinted as if my words were hurting his head. “You mean her stepdad? What about him?”
“Do you remember the day I brought Vera home?” I asked, trying to ease the tension.
“Of course.”
I chose my words carefully. “I wasn’t exactly…forthcoming about the details. I had actually met Vera’s biological father that day. He was the one who left her on the side of the road. I never got his name at the time, but I got his license plate number. Anyway, with the help of a private investigator, we were able to get his name. Bennett Hunter. Marin’s father—well, apparently stepfather.”
Cody said nothing. Not even a glimpse of surprise on his placid face. He…knew all along?
“You knew.” Oliver had noticed it too and wasn’t afraid to call his brother out on it.
And he kept it from me? Sound bites of his consolations whispered in my ear. All of the empathetic words. All of the reassurances he had offered. All lies. All fake. My little puddle of disbelief swelled into an ocean of anger.
“How long?” I jabbed my finger at him.
Cody stood there dumbfounded.
“How long did you know Marin was Vera’s sister, Cody?” This time my finger struck his chest. Hard.
“Since a few days after Vera disappeared.”
“You’ve been sitting on this information for six months? Why the hell wouldn’t you tell me?” I was screaming now, the words pouring out of me rushed and furious. “I’ve been grieving and searching and dying inside every day for the last six months—189 days since she went missing, Cody! 189 days I couldn’t sleep, barely tolerated food, worried if Sydney would ever find a kidney donor, all while you knew that Vera was with Marin’s father! I can’t believe you would do this to me. We’re family, Cody!”
Cody leaned away from me, giving me a clearer look at the disheveled mess that he was. Glassy eyes, streaked with red veins. His face gaunt and pale. He’d developed a potbelly from sloth and perpetual drunkenness, yet his grimy sweatpants hung off his bony hips like a sagging tent. Only now did the state of the living room come into focus. Empty beer bottles scattered everything. Forties of malt liquor drained to the last drop. Shot glasses and food scraps and dirty tumblers. If I wasn’t so livid I would have pitied him.
“I wasn’t trying to hurt you, Felicity. I was trying to protect you. Protect everyone.”
“Bull! How was allowing my daughter to stay missing protecting her?” My voice had never reached this octave before.
“Will you stop yelling at me for a minute? I can’t think.” Cody pinched his temples, wincing in pain. “Marin couldn’t tell you or go to the police because she was trying to keep you out of jail. What was I supposed to do? It’s not like Marin knew where he was, only that Vera was with him and that she was safe. That’s all I know, and Marin made me promise not to tell you.”
Oliver stormed to the wall and smashed a fist-sized imprint into the plaster. “Are you friggin’ kidding me? You promised not to tell, and that’s why you withheld information? This isn’t a grade school pinky swear. This is a missing child—your missing niece.”
Cody dropped onto a chair and ran his palms down his face.
“I’m sorry, I know. I wasn’t thinking clearly.” Tears filled the gaps between the veins in Cody’s eyes, making them even redder. “But Bennett is terminally ill; how dangerous could he be? He assured Marin right after Vera left that she was safe with him and that he wanted to spend time with her before he died, that’s all. But he threatened that if Marin told anyone or came looking for her, he’d tell the police that you kidnapped Vera.”
Cody leaned back into the chair, eyes closing us out, tears streaming down, breaths strained.
“When Marin tried to get in touch with him again, his phone was shut off and he wasn’t at his house.”
I should have trusted my gut that Marin was involved somehow. “So it was Marin who told Vera about everything?”
“Not exactly, no. Vera found out on her own. She was doing some kind of ancestry project for school and asked me about Alvera Fields, what I thought happened to her. I told her there might be some stuff in our spare bedroom, old documents and articles she could look through. Apparently she found a picture in Marin’s things that convinced her she was adopted. When she confronted Marin about it, Marin told her the truth—that they were sisters and that their father was dying, in case she wanted to meet him before he was gone. Marin thought they would just talk on the phone, maybe have a visit together. She never expected Vera to run away...and certainly not for this long.”
Oliver had been quietly absorbing all of this from the window while nursing his knuckles. “Be honest with me, brother. Do you think Bennett did something…”
“No, Marin swore to me that her father was a good man and would never hurt Vera. He loved her.”
“A man who leaves a baby on the side of the road does not love her. He didn’t care enough to raise her. She’s my child. He has no right to her. He sold her for a few hundred bucks. That’s the kind of man he was. A man who left his child for dead.”
Cody’s eyelids flew open.
“Felicity, she was never yours to begin with. Legally, you stole her! Don’t you realize you’re no better? You could have gone through proper channels. You could have helped his family. Instead you took her, lied to her, and played mom all this time. Bennett was her biological father. She had a right to know the truth. That’s all Bennett wanted to give her.”
“Are you serious right now? You’re going to side with a total stranger over your family?” Oliver stepped in, physically and verbally closing in on Cody.
I angled myself between them. We weren’t getting anywhere with this. “Guys, I don’t want to fight. I just want to find Vera. Did Marin mention where else they could be? With another relative?”
“No, Marin’s mom died and there were no other relatives that she knew of.” Another dead end.
“What now? How do we find out where Vera’s hiding?” Oliver stomped to the window. “We could have brought her home months ago…” Then he pivoted back around, his hands balled and eyes filled with fury. “And it’s your fault that my daughter is still out there with a man none of us can find!”
It all happened so fast. One moment Oliver was standing by the window, the next he lunged at Cody, tipping the chair over and tossing Cody to the floor. Oliver fell atop Cody’s chest and pinned his upper arms with his knees. He whaled on his brother in a blind rage, landing savage hooks to his cheeks and jaw with alternating fists. Cody squirmed fruitlessly under
Oliver’s weight, forearms flailing, groaning as the punches rocked his head back and forth. I screamed to drown out the sickeningly moist thud of bone smacking flesh.
“Stop! Please, Oliver, you’re going to kill him!”
But Oliver only heard whatever voice in his head urged him on. I leapt on his back, pushing and pulling at him, but he flung me off as if I were a feather. The beatdown went on.
With sudden superhuman strength, I grabbed Oliver’s shoulders and yanked him off. Cody lay deathly still; he looked like he’d gone three rounds with Mike Tyson. Oliver sprawled against the overturned chair, panting and absently massaging one bruised hand with the other as light and reason slowly returned to his smoldering eyes.
“I can’t take this anymore. I’m turning myself in!”
Oliver’s heavy breaths stopped. He pushed himself to his feet. Blustered to the door. And never looked back.
The Pittsburg Press
Pittsburg, PA
Saturday, October 22, 1910
ALVERA FIELDS CASE MAY BE SOLVED BY RAID
The mystery of Mrs. Alvera Fields, the beautiful Pennsylvania wife and mother, whose disappearance earlier this year became an international sensation, will finally be cleared and her vanishing explained, the district attorney believes, as the result of a raid made yesterday afternoon by county detectives on the Fields Estate.
