Claddagh and Chaos (9 page)

THIS HAD TO BE A dream. I was certain I would wake up any minute and I would be back in my bed, wrapped around my wife. I would tease her about her excessive cleaning and she would smack me, telling me to shut up. She would walk around, her belly swollen with little Declan safely growing inside her. Except, when I opened my eyes, the sad and confused eyes that looked back at me dashed any hope I had of this being just some head trip induced by too much whiskey.

No one was speaking or moving. I lowered my eyes back to the grainy lines of the table. the same table where Christi had slammed her hand repeatedly as she accused me of defiling our marriage. My stomach turned at the vile notion that such a thing could even enter her mind. I had never given her the slightest reason to believe I had done anything to ruin us.

“Patrick, I have to ask ... ?” Da’s voice shattered the silence, causing reality to come crashing down. I knew the question before it left his mouth.

“If you have to ask, then you might as well kill me right fucking now!” I seethed. “I don’t need a goddamn ring to remind me what’s important in my world.” The very ring now sat cold and dead against the skin of my finger, just like my heart, the life it once held was fleeting.

The lace scraps still sat on the table, a glimpse of a yellow condom peaked out of the tissue. How could little lies come in such pretty wrapping? Its secrets on display for anyone who dared to look. Sadly, that observer was my wife.

“So, tell me what you know about this Theresa person who has lied to our Christi.” Sherman spoke from behind me. His non cavalier attitude was refreshing, giving me something to focus on. It kept me from jumping out of my skin and filling the room with all of the rage I felt. Although, it begged, like an anxious dog, to be let out.

“She’s one of our neighbors. She lives a few houses down from us with her husband, Clark, but I’ve only seen him once at our open house. Geeky motherfucker, dressed like his mother laid out his clothes or something. Said he sold insurance, but didn’t try to get a single digit the whole night. Christi said he works crazy hours and Theresa thought he was having an affair.”

“What’s the last name?” Shamus asked.

“Johnson.”

“Couldn’t get anymore generic if he invented the fucking thing.” Shamus’s fingers stilled for just a second and then went back to warp speed across the keys. The pause between the last two words died as soon as it left his mouth.

I needed to get out of this room. I needed to go after Christi, beg her to listen to me. Either that or beat the shit out of something or someone.

“Shamus, have all of Patrick and Christi’s credit cards monitored. I want to know about any charges she tries to make.” Da was typing away on his phone, his glasses still resting on his nose as he gave the order.

“Da?”

“Patrick, she is clearly upset. She is also very pregnant and I doubt she’ll return to the house where she believes you had a mistress.”

Fuck, he was right. The house we had made a home was now a painful memory for her. I had to fix that. Hell, I’d buy her a new one if she wanted; anything just to bring her back to me.

“What about her cell phone? Can we trace it?” I added.

“Sorry, Boss, already thought of that,” Shamus responded. “She turned it off and removed the tracking card.”

“What about her car?”

Shamus could only sigh. “It runs off her cell phone.”

“What about her shamrock? We give them that fucking thing for a reason.” My voice was angry and frustrated. All the extra security we had put in place since her kidnapping and it was all shit.

“That appears to be located at an address you know well ... her OB/GYN’s office. I tried calling to see if anyone found her necklace and they said she left it behind, but they’ve not been able to reach her.” Shamus had a look on his face, a look I knew held more information, news I didn’t want to hear.

“Tell me, Shamus!” I commanded.

“She
uh ...”
His head bowed, the typing had ended and his hands were now on the back of his neck. His eyes landed on everything but my face. “She took you off all her paperwork. You can’t get any information about her from her doctor.”

I’d been in my fair share of fights, punched by some pretty big motherfuckers, not a single one of them hurt as much as what hearing that shit did. On her first visit I gave her so much shit about spelling my name correctly, she leaned over and kissed my nose, telling me that she stole my last name fair and square and wasn’t giving it back. Yet, in the blink of an eye, one single event threatens to change everything we’d built. So, with all my resources, power, and money, I sat here, with no idea where my wife was, knowing she believed a lie.

“I have to get out of here. I have to see if I can find her.”

I didn’t let anyone try and stop me. I ran down the hall and into the elevator; Christi’s perfume still lingered there. My chest felt tight and it took everything I had not to crumble down onto the floor and cry. Instead, I pounded my fist as hard as I could into the metal of the wall of the elevator. The burn of my actions did nothing to relieve the ache in my chest and the fear that had bubbled in my throat.

The first place I looked was Coleen’s grave. She had a habit of going there when something was bothering her, but the headstone was vacant. Next, I headed to Books’s house. Her sister had just had the baby and I knew she would be home. Smiles answered the door with little Michael snuggled in her arms. My chest ache deepened as I watched him sleep safely in his mother’s embrace.

“Patrick, this is a surprise!” Always a smile on her face, ever since meeting Books and getting married. They complemented each other. I remembered when Books first came to me with the idea of asking Smiles out. He knew of my intentions with Christi; he was the one who had alerted me about Douce fighting in the lobby and how Christi was breaking it up. I pussied out that night. I had every intention of asking her out, but then the bomb was dropped about Giggles and my plans changed. Da had to keep me from killing Douce when I found out what he was up to; instead I broke his fucking jaw and three ribs.

“I’m sorry to come over unannounced, but have you seen Christi today?”

“No, she and I haven’t spoken since last night. Theresa was going over to your house and helping her with some project she has.”

Smiles began to rock her body back and forth as little Michael began to fuss.

“What happened Patrick?” Her face had concern written all over it.

I hung my head as she invited me in. I sat on her couch and told her everything that had happened in my office. I nearly lost it again when I told her about how Christi had walked out.

“Well, I have to say that I never got a good feeling about Theresa. She was just too, I don’t know, full of herself.” Smiles tossed her free hand around in the air, her red hair bouncing with her movement. This was interesting. Christi had never mentioned she and her sister had disagreed about Theresa. “As far as Christi is concerned, you know she won’t do anything foolish to hurt herself or the baby. But you and I both know that when she gets mad ...” Her voice became amused, Christi was very headstrong when she was passionate about something. I knew very well how Christi acted when she was angry. The incident with Anthony and the flowers came to mind. “I wish I could tell you that she’ll cool off and come looking for you, but I can’t.” Her hand touched my arm and I knew Smiles was right, Christi wasn’t in control of her emotions right now. I needed to find her before she let them get the best of her. Knowing she had visited her physician was also tugging at the back of my mind. “If I see or hear from her, I will let you know,” she assured me, placing her hand on my cheek. I thanked her and made my way to the door, but her voice called me back. “Patrick, swear to me you didn’t do what Theresa accused you of.” I turned and looked directly into Smiles’s eyes. “I swear on my life.” Smiles would never know how true a statement that really was.

For the next ten hours, I drove to every place in Chicago I could think of. I went to her favorite places and even spoke to several people in her old neighborhood—nothing. It was as if she had vanished.

Finally, I decided I couldn’t keep my focus anymore and headed to my parents’ home. I couldn’t bear the thought of being in my house without my wife. The house was alive, if the amount of lights on and the number of cars that were parked in the driveway were any indication.

I entered the front door and headed straight for the kitchen, ignoring the guards who greeted me and closed the door. I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that my ma would be there. As I rounded the corner, there she stood, her face sad and drawn. She loved Christi, maybe more than she loved me, I honestly believed. I collapsed to my knees, buried my face in her shirt, and wrapped my arms around her, securing myself to her. She would never judge me or expect me to maintain my image, the one created by the power and guns I held. She was my ma; she loved me without question and gave comfort without being asked. “She’s gone, Ma”

“I know, Son, but we will get her back.” Her voice was soft, her fingers combing through my hair, just like Christi did when I snuggled into her side. “How?” I cried into her shirt. “Because, I believe in the truth. That, and all the information your men found while you were out scouring the city.” I immediately pulled my head back and looked up at her. Her face contained just a hint of a smile, enough that I was able to stand and comb my hair back with my fingers. “Son, come into the den and we’ll talk,” Da said behind me.

I stood, walked over to the sink, and ran cold water over my face. Ma handed me a towel and then kissed me on the cheek. Nearly my entire inner circle was in the room, all with the same expression and goal. My father handed me a cup of coffee and it was then I noticed the sun was coming up. Christi had been out there all night, by herself, unprotected. I prayed to God she was safe. “So, what have we got?” I spoke to everyone in the room.

Shamus spoke first. “Well, I checked out the name you gave me, Theresa Johnson, and found that a twenty-two-year-old, white female of the same name, residing in Ashton, Arkansas, was killed last year in a head on collision. The article I found stated she was on her way to catch a plane to New York to meet a buyer from Saks Fifth Avenue, to carry her line of women’s underwear.” Shamus looked up and met my eyes. The expression I gave him didn’t need to be voiced,
keep talking motherfucker.

“Since, I knew there had to be more, I kept digging. I mean, if you have clothes to sell to someone like Saks, then you have to have storage somewhere.” He was right; I wouldn’t have thought about it. “Seems that Mrs.Johnson was also in the car when it crashed and was in the hospital for a few weeks. After several months in rehab, learning to walk again, she came home to find that no one had been paying on the storage facility where Theresa kept her clothing. I contacted the storage facility and it seems they had one of those auctions like you see on reality television. A couple by the last name of Stone runs the auction. I looked into their records and found out who purchased the storage shed in question. Records show a female by the name of, Rebecca Young, purchased the contents of the storage container. I had to really dig deep into Ms. Young’s background, but what I found was quite interesting.” Shamus slid out a file from beside him in the chair. Da handed it to me as Shamus continued. “It seems that Rebecca has quite a rap sheet; longer than Muscles, actually.” I knew it was meant to be funny, but I had no ability to laugh. “She’s been charged several times with credit card fraud and petty theft. Nothing that would make me suspicious.” Shamus pulled out another folder and, again, handed it to Da. He took a quick look and passed it to me. I opened it and was astonished at what I found.

“I checked the county registrar’s office to see if Rebecca owned any property and found that she doesn’t have any property. Her driver’s license also expired a few years ago. What I did find, however, and you can clearly see for yourself, the house that Theresa claims to live in, has been vacant for three years. The last legal owners walked away from it when the husband died. I then went to the house myself and checked, Boss, the house is completely empty.” I couldn’t believe my eyes as I continued to look at the pages in front of me. Theresa had lied about everything.

“I figured Theresa had to live somewhere, so I had Tonto stake out your house to see if she tried to return. He didn’t have to wait long until she did and knocked at your front door just after six last night. She walked around as though she was trying to find a way in, but left empty-handed. Tonto followed her downtown where she stopped at a drug store and purchased a home pregnancy test. He followed her to what we found out to be her real address.”

“Rebecca Young, aka Theresa Johnson, aka Melanie Storm, aka too many fucking names to continue, lives above the Starbucks that one of the pings to the computer system originated from.” My eyes went directly to Tonto’s. “Are you sure she lives there?”

“Yes, Boss. I paid her landlord three hundred bucks to confirm it, even showed him a picture that Shamus gave me. He said he was sure it was the lady he rents to.” I looked back to Shamus. “Is that all?” Shamus shook his head and leaned his forearms on his knees. “Not by a long shot, Boss.” Caleb stood up this time and made his way to my father’s desk that sat in the corner. He flipped open the laptop that sat on there as he began to speak. “When my father and I found out what Shamus and Tonto had discovered, I had Shamus do a little further investigating. Dad took the condom and panties and sent them to a friend of ours who owed us a favor.” I looked to Ma, who now stood behind my father, her eyes welling with tears.