A Father's Quest (10 page)

“When you and your mother left for Europe so suddenly, I wondered if it was because Miss Charlotte didn’t want us to talk. You know, compare notes. Mama refused to say another word, but that was Mama. I couldn’t help but think that maybe your mother knew more than she let on.”

“You think our mothers colluded to break us up?”

“No, not necessarily. But, come on, your dad was no angel. And your mother was a smart woman. She couldn’t have been completely in the dark.”

Jonas wasn’t sure where she was going with this misstep down memory lane, but his head was starting to pound from talking about his father. Their father.

He put the car in gear. “Mom made a lot of excuses for him. Maybe she loved him. Or wanted to believe for the sake of their marriage vows. The whole ‘for better or for worse’ thing, you know?”

Remy didn’t answer.

“I don’t know, Remy. Mom was never the most independent woman on the planet. And her family cut her off when she married Dad. Maybe she was afraid. Fear can make you do a lot of things you don’t want to do.”
Or make you not do something you do want to do.

“You’re right. This is old news. We’ve taken the DNA test, so until we get the results it’s all speculation, isn’t it? We need to be talking about what steps have to be taken to find Birdie. Do you have a plan?”

“I wish I had a plan. It kills me that I don’t. I guess that’s why I’m here, hoping you’ll sort of jump-start the process, which is definitely stalled. Do you have any ideas?”

“Not really. But when you mentioned Cheryl’s medications, it occurred to me there might be a way to trace her through her prescriptions. Especially if she used any of the larger chain pharmacies.”

He parked in a spot marked “visitors” in front of the small, homey-looking, one-story brick building that was his mother’s current residence. “That’s a good idea. I’ll give my friend a call.”

She climbed out. “I’m going to say hello to my friends. I’ll meet you inside.”

He watched her stroll toward the building. He called his buddy but had to leave a message.

He felt bad for assuming the worst where Cheryl was concerned. Just because she didn’t fill her existing prescription didn’t mean she hadn’t found another means of staying on her meds.

Remy was standing at the front desk, exchanging hugs with the nurses and staff when he entered the building.

“Jonas,” Patsy, the head nurse, exclaimed. “We didn’t know you knew our Remy. What a small world.”

“How’s my mom today?”

“Fantastic. I was just telling Remy, Miss Charlotte—” all of the residents were either Miss So-and-so or Mister Whatever “—seems on top of her game today. A young gal from that new fitness center in town has been stopping in once a week to teach… What’s it called, Bev?”

“Zumba,” a woman filling little cups with pills called out.

“Modified, of course. But I think the music and movement, even limited, is great for our residents.”

A buzzing sound made Patsy clutch a walkie-talkie at her waist. “On my way,” she said into it a moment later. “Remy, come talk to me next week. We’ve really missed you. Especially the residents. We’ll see what we can work out.”

“Great. I’ll give you a call.”

Remy headed toward the wing where the full-care folks resided. His mother’s door was wide-open, of course. She never remembered to close it—even when she wasn’t dressed. An oversight that would have shocked her beyond dismay if she were aware of the social gaffe.

“Hello,” Remy called, knocking as she entered. “Miss Charlotte? Are you home? It’s me, Remy Bouchard, and your son, Jonas. We’re here to see you.”

“Mom?”

They looked around the one-bedroom studio.

Jonas checked the bath. “She’s not here.”

“Is today her regularly scheduled beauty-parlor visit?” She walked to a large calendar the residents used to help keep track of appointments.

Her finger landed on a big red mark that Jonas couldn’t read but assumed said hair appointment. He didn’t care that his mother was gone—he would see her later. But the mix-up seemed symbolic of everything he’d tried to accomplish in the past few weeks—and failed.

“Shit,” he swore. “Why is this so damn hard? I used to be able to make things happen. I taught Afghan soldiers how to fight. Uncovered dozens of complex insurance scams. I don’t wait around for information to drop out of the sky or from someone’s dream. And, yet, here I am. Twiddling my thumbs. And, frankly, it sucks.”

Remy appeared more sympathetic than alarmed by his outburst. But the last thing he wanted was her feeling sorry for him. Sympathy meant something bad had happened. He refused to think about that.

He ran a hand through his hair. “I just want my daughter back.”

As he turned to leave, his phone rang. He unhooked the little clip on his belt loop and flipped it open without looking at the display. He figured it was his pal from Memphis calling back. “Jonas Galloway,” he barked, his tone sharp.

“Daddy?”

When Mommy made a funny crying sound and ran off before Thom was done preaching, Birdie got a bad feeling in her tummy. She stayed where she was, not sure if she should follow after her mother or not.

Brother Thom ended his prayer pretty quick after that. Birdie dropped her chin and put her hands together like she’d been taught, but she’d kept one eye on Thom, too. She’d noticed his phone, and when everybody else was praying for redemption, she prayed that he would walk away and leave the phone.

And he did.

God was listening.

She’d sat at the picnic table, ignoring the scratchy seat on the backs of her legs. Slivers were nothing compared to getting the chance to call her daddy. Being fast, she’d reached out and grabbed the small black phone. She pushed the number buttons in the order her daddy showed her then pushed the button marked Send.

She’d slipped to the ground under the table as soon as she heard the ringing sound. Her heart was beating hard. She wanted to talk to him so bad she was afraid she’d start crying if he didn’t answer.

Then she heard his voice. His name. He was there. Somewhere. Real.

“D-daddy.” Her nose started to run and a sob got caught in her chest, making it hard to speak. “Daddy, you have to come and get me and Mommy. Right away. I don’t like it here, Daddy.”

Daddy asked her a question and she tried hard to think past her fear so she could answer him. But before she could finish telling him, a face suddenly appeared to one side of the table.

“Why you obnoxious little brat,” Brother Thom yelled. He looked madder than she’d ever seen him. His hand stabbed at her face. She closed her eyes and tried to roll away but he caught her.

His fingers clamped down hard on her hand—the one holding the phone. She let out a shriek of pain.

“Gimme that,” he said, his voice mean and hateful. He pried the phone from her fingers.

“Daddy…” She fell on the ground, crying. She saw the look in Brother’s Thom’s eyes. He hated her. She didn’t know why, but he did. She was so scared all she could do was lay there and cry. Like a baby.

Of course. He needed to let Birdie talk. Some shred of rational thought told him to hit the speakerphone button.

“Daddy, you have to come and get me and Mommy right away. I don’t like it here, Daddy.”

He squeezed his eyes closed to keep all the pent-up emotion he felt from spilling out. “I’m sorry, baby. I’ll come right this minute, but I don’t know where you are, sweetheart. Can you tell me where you are?”

There was a pause. “There’s lots of trees. And water that comes up around their roots. It’s brown and Mommy says there are snakes and alligators in the water. And bugs that suck your blood and make you die. I don’t like this place, Daddy.” Her voice broke and she started to cry.

“Oh, honey, I’m so sorry. I wish I could come pick you up right this minute but I need to know a little more about where you are. Is there a building? Or street signs?”

“Why you obnoxious little brat,” a voice shouted. “Give me that.”

A man’s voice. An angry man’s voice.

“Birdie? Birdie?” Jonas shouted.

He could hear her crying in the background. And she let out a shriek as if she’d been struck. Jonas felt a blast of adrenaline explode in his veins. “If you lay a hand on my daughter, you bastard, I will kill you,” he shouted. “Do you hear me? Let her go. She’s an innocent child. Let—”

He stopped ranting the moment he felt Remy’s hand on his shoulder. He looked at the phone. The line was dead. His screen showed his daughter’s happy, Tooth-Fairy’s-a-coming grin.

“Oh, God, Remy. She needs me and I’m standing here as useless as my father. What do I do?”

She took the phone. “What did the caller ID say?”

Why hadn’t he thought of that? He watched her press the appropriate buttons. Her frown told him the news wasn’t good. “Restricted,” she said, showing him the display. “Let me try redialing.” She shook her head. “It says ‘invalid number.’”

She set the phone on a nearby table and stepped closer to give him a hug. “I’m sorry. At least you know she hasn’t forgotten how to reach you. You taught her well.”

Birdie. I’m so sorry, baby. I never should have left you. This wouldn’t have happened if I’d stayed home.
Not that he had any choice in the matter, but his guilt was eating him alive. Images of what might be happening to his brave little girl at this very moment nearly brought him to his knees.

“I’m so sorry, Jonas.” Remy patted his back. “Don’t give up hope. We’re going to find her, Jonas. We will. I promise.”

Remy’s kindness and support, her declaration—regardless of how empty it might be—eased the fist-hold on his heart somewhat. He took a step back, forcing her to remain at arm’s length. He was a freaking soldier, for God’s sake. He knew how to plan and mobilize. He didn’t wallow.

“I need to go. I’ll drop you off, then call my friend. Maybe there’s a way to trace the call.” He didn’t believe that. They’d only been on the line a few seconds. But that call was the first authentic lead they’d had in weeks. And, above all, it proved that his daughter wanted to come home. She was being kept somewhere against her will. Surely that constituted kidnapping in somebody’s book.

They closed the door to his mother’s room and hurried down the hall to the side exit. There was no way Jonas was going to make small talk at the front desk. “Do you think he’ll hurt her for making that call?” he asked.

“She’s a little girl. Only an absolute monster would hurt her,” Remy answered.

He hoped she was right.

“Do you think your friend who works in law enforcement could retrieve that cell-phone number?”

“I’ll call him, but if this Brother Thom guy is determined to stay on the down low, he probably bought a disposable phone. If he was worried that Birdie told me something, he could be pulling up stakes and moving as we speak.”

Once they were seated in his car, she said, “We need a plan. And a map. A big one.”

“What are you thinking?”

“I’ll explain when we get to my house. Step on it.”

He did as she asked and a few minutes later pulled into the driveway where the moving van had been parked that morning. A small sedan in need of washing was the only vehicle present.

He got out and slammed the door. “Do you have any thing to drink?” he asked, following after her.

“I might. Do you plan to get drunk?”

“I might. Do you have any idea how bad it feels to know you’re virtually powerless to help the one person you love more than life?”

“I might.”

He followed her into the house through to the kitchen.

He’d always like this room. He associated it with the smell of chicory and coffee and he took a deep breath without meaning to.

Remy didn’t notice because she was reaching for an odd-shaped bottle from the shelf beside the refrigerator. “Cade brought this. It’s got a hint of chocolate.”

“It’s not that kind of sickly sweet crap you made me buy you in high school, is it?”

She laughed. “No. My taste buds have matured a little bit.” She poured two small shots then handed him the bottle.

Kraken. He’d never heard of it. He took a sniff. “Strong. You drink it straight?”

She grinned saucily. “Yes, but you can add water or ice if you need it.” Under her breath, she might have added the word “Wuss,” before taking a sip.

“Ah.” She suddenly blinked. “What time is it?” She spun around to look at the digital clock on the built-in microwave above the stove. “Oh, good. It’s nearly five. Mama always said you weren’t a lush if you could hold off drinking till four-thirty—on weekdays, at least.”

“Why four-thirty?”

“That was the latest appointment she’d take at the beauty parlor. No evening hours at Marlene’s House of Beauty. Clients could come to the house, of course, but they knew they ran the risk of arriving after she’d poured her first cocktail.”

Why did I always assume her life was peachy cool and normal compared to mine?
Probably because she had siblings. He’d hated being an only child, and he hated it that his daughter was growing up alone, too. If Birdie came home in one piece and wasn’t completely, utterly psychologically messed up from this experience, he’d try to do something about that sad state of affairs.

If the man who yelled at her did anything…

He grabbed the drink and downed it in one gulp. The liquor burned his esophagus, making him choke. “Holy smokes, Remy. This is strong.”

“I warned you. Want a refill? With water back this time?”

“One will do, thanks.”

She finished off hers with a ladylike chugging. He was impressed. “You’ve changed.”

“I would hope so.”

She put away the bottle then turned to look at him. “Have a seat. I’ll be right back. There might still be an atlas around here, unless someone took it, in which case, we’ll use the internet. You can start by thinking about the call and writing down any sounds you heard in the background.”

“I only heard her voice.”

She handed him a pen. “No. That’s what you were listening to, but your mind heard everything else. It’s a trick I learned from lucid dreaming and that’s what you hired me for, right? Close your eyes and think, Jonas. You can do this.”

He sat at the round oak table, grabbed a piece of paper and clicked the pen she’d given him a couple of times. Stalling. He hadn’t heard anything. Just his daughter’s sad voice and terrified cries.

His heart rate started to increase but he ordered himself to breathe. Slow and steady, as if he were at target practice. Focus.

Where were you calling from, Birdie?

Outside. His gut told him that. She’d probably found a phone sitting around after someone had walked off without it. Long enough for his smart, desperate child to take advantage.

As his brain confirmed the location, he heard other noises, as Remy said he would. The wind, steady and strong, not gusty. And bird noises.

What kind of bird noises? Think.

He tried to imitate the sounds. Who-who-ee. And a screech that made him think of his and Birdie’s last trip to the zoo. In the monkey house, where long-tail birds scolded visitors and monkeys alike.

“She’s someplace semitropical, I think,” he said, opening his eyes. He wasn’t surprised to find Remy sitting across from him even though he hadn’t heard her return. “Between the bird noises and her mention of gators, I think we can eliminate about ninety percent of the country.”

She smiled encouragingly. “It’s a start. And that jibes with your ex-wife’s intention to provide homeschooling in Florida, right? That’s good, Jonas.”

“But Florida’s a big state.”

She opened a large, slightly mangled road atlas. “True, but one thing we do know for certain is your daughter hasn’t been brainwashed. She wants to leave.”

She thumbed forward to a two-page spread showing the Panhandle on one page and the main part of the state on the other. “We also know she’s observant and brave enough to take advantage of an opportunity when she sees one. And, like I said, even under extreme pressure, she remembered your number.”

“She memorized it when she was three.”

She looked intrigued by that fact. “Three is young. You must have had a pretty good reason for pushing that. Do I dare ask why?”

He didn’t answer right away.

“If it’s too personal…”

“I think we’re past any worry about privacy, Rem. You saw the whole soap opera of my life on screen today. I’ll tell you anything you want to know if it’ll help get Birdie home.”

“Okay. Why did you make your three-year-old memorize your phone number?”

“Cheryl never liked coming to Mom’s. She said it smelled funny and bothered her allergies, so, usually, Birdie and I would come together. But the Thanksgiving after Birdie’s third birthday, we agreed to celebrate here as a whole family. Long story short, Cheryl decided I didn’t love her. I’d never loved her.” Thanks to his senior class album and all the photos of him and Remy— Cheryl’s much more vivacious and beautiful clone. “She even accused me of having an affair.”

He looked at Remy pointedly. “I wasn’t.”

“Never would have occurred to me to ask. You’re the most faithful person I’ve ever known.”

They both knew why. His unfaithful father, who ruined both their lives.

“She made a bunch of wild threats, including taking her own life if she ever found out I cheated on her.”
With you.

“You believed her.”

“I believed that she was capable of anything and self-centered enough to jump off a bridge with our daughter watching. I wanted Birdie to have the means to reach me if something happened.”

“Very smart. And, luckily, she hasn’t needed to use the information before now, right?”

He flipped a few pages ahead in the atlas and pointed to New Orleans.

“My National Guard unit got called up when Katrina hit. I worked practically around the clock, seven days a week for two months. None of us could get home. Phone lines were messed up. We had crappy cell service. It was chaotic and stressful, even without having an emotionally unstable wife who convinces herself her husband is using this disaster as a way to hook up with…a woman.”

“Why would she think that?”

He looked at the short distance from New Orleans to Baylorville but couldn’t bring himself to admit the ugly truth.

“Did Cheryl try to commit suicide?”

“She took a bunch of pills. Fortunately, Birdie was spending the night with a neighbor, but she came down with the flu suddenly and started throwing up. The woman took her home and found Cheryl. She called an ambulance. The E.R. pumped her stomach. I got an emergency pass to fly home because my wife was being held on a seventy-two-hour suicide watch and my daughter was alone.”

She walked to the sink to pour herself a glass of water. “I don’t know what to say, Jonas. I’m sorry.”

He looked at his watch. “I better go.”

“I was wondering how we were going to do this,” she said. “I didn’t think you had a mobile sleep lab with you, but it occurred to me that you might want to stay here and watch me sleep in case I had a dream that might be pertinent to your case.”

He could tell she was teasing, but the thought had crossed his mind.

“Not necessary. You’ll call me if you see her. Won’t you?”

Remy was touched that he trusted her, but it killed her to see him so defeated, so broken.

“I’ll try to dream tonight, Jonas. I can’t promise you anything, but maybe we’ll get lucky.”
Maybe Birdie will come back and tell me if the fire pit was a clue that held some significance to where she was.

“Call me anytime. I’m used to working on four or five hours of sleep. If we can get some idea of where she is, I’ll be out of here like a bat out of hell.”

She believed that, too. “Will you do one thing for me?”

“What’s that?”

“Take me with you.”

“No. That’s insane. If the cops decide this is a kidnapping, they won’t even want me involved in this investigation. Trust me, police don’t like civilians poking their noses in.”