Furious (9 page)

F
OURTEEN

“Mom?”

Faith looked away from the pile of papers she was correcting and found Lara looking at her with big, sad eyes. “Do you think Pee Wee will ever come back home?”

It took Faith a moment to remember that Pee Wee was the bunny that Aunt Jana had given Lara for Easter. A year had passed since Pee Wee had squeezed his way through his wire cage and ran off. “Do you remember all the posters and signs we put everywhere asking people to call us if they found Pee Wee?”

Lara nodded. “We sent a picture to the newspaper asking for help. But why didn’t they find him?”

“I don’t know, but your daddy drove around the neighborhood every day looking for him. I’m sorry, honey. That was a long time ago. What made you think of Pee Wee?”

“I see him at night when I go to sleep. I try to pet him, but then he runs away. I think he’s lost.”

Faith looked over her daughter’s head at her husband, who had overheard the conversation. He grimaced and shrugged his shoulders, letting her know he wasn’t going to be much help.

“The truth is,” Faith told her daughter, “I don’t know where Pee Wee is or what happened to him. I like to imagine that a nice family found him and is playing with him right now.”

“I think we should make some more posters and keep looking for him.”

Faith looked into Lara’s eyes, unable to take away the hope she saw there. “OK, go get your crayons and I’ll grab some paper.”

Faith picked up the phone and held it close to her ear. Through the glass, she held Dad’s gaze and saw the determination in his eyes. He hadn’t given up on her.

For the first time since she’d knocked Detective Yuhasz over the head with his keyboard, she felt the full weight of her shame. “Hi.”

“How are you holding up?”

She shrugged. “I screwed up. How am I supposed to help my kids if I can’t even help myself? I feel like a fool.”

He frowned. “I need you to hang in there for a few more days.”

Her shoulders fell. How in the world had she made such a mess of things?

“Judge Lowell has agreed to hold a preliminary hearing on Thursday,” Dad went on. “I brought you some clothes. I need you to dress up for your assigned court date and tell him how deeply sorry you are. I hired a lawyer. Michael Bennett will meet with you tomorrow.”

“What do you think my chances are?”

“Assaulting an officer is serious business. I explained to the judge, in private, the stress you’ve been under. I think he’ll take that into consideration, but I don’t know, Faith. You’re going to need to get a grip on your emotions.”

She couldn’t stand seeing him look so defeated. “I’m sorry. I never meant for it to come to this.”

“No need to apologize to me. But if you’re serious about finding your kids, it’s time for you to stop and think before you act. Let’s get you out of here, and then we’ll talk.”

The security guard stood behind Faith as she signed a form and collected her belongings at the window: purse, wallet, and the suit she’d worn at the hearing. The guard’s footfalls fell heavily against the concrete as they walked toward the exit.

He followed her outside.

The chill in the air felt cool against her face.

The nameless guard unclipped his key ring from his waistband, unlocked the gate, and held it open. As Faith walked away, the metal bars clinked shut behind her. She headed toward Dad’s truck parked at the curb. Dad had talked to Judge Lowell, and Yuhasz had agreed to drop charges, but only upon Faith’s agreement to attend weekly anger management classes and remain under her parents’ supervision for the next ninety days. Faith was just thankful to be out of lockdown.

Jana climbed out of the passenger seat and waddled toward her with arms extended and a wide smile plastered across her face. Her sister’s stomach had grown to the size of a watermelon, big enough to make for an awkward embrace.

“Thank God you’re out of that place,” Jana told her.

“Amen to that,” Faith said.

Dad took a little longer to climb out of the truck, but there was no cane in sight as he headed their way. He kissed her forehead and said, “You did good. Let’s go home.”

They stopped at Faith’s house so she could gather mail, files, clothes, and anything else she might need while she was living with her parents. She didn’t like the idea of being away from home, but that was the price she had to pay. As she walked around the house, a shell of its former self, barren and cold, she resolved to get a hold of her emotions and turn things around.

Thirty minutes later, Mom greeted the three of them at the front door of her parents’ house, wrapped her arms around Faith, and didn’t want to let go.

Her old childhood bedroom had been set up with a TV and a desk. Other than those two things, the room looked the same as it had growing up. Periwinkle walls, lacy curtains, and a bright patchwork quilt on the bed. Lara and Hudson used to love spending the night at Grandma’s and sleeping in Faith’s old room. She put her files on the desk and then began to put away her clothes.

Jana entered the room, took a seat on the edge of the bed, and watched her unpack. “Mom wants to know if you prefer roast beef and potatoes for dinner or grilled salmon.”

“Either one is fine,” Faith said. “Why don’t you go home and spend time with your family?”

“Are you trying to get rid of me?”

“No. I just don’t need everyone making a fuss.”

“Roast beef or salmon?” Jana asked again.

“Either is fine.”

“I’ll tell her salmon.”

Faith put her T-shirts in the middle drawer and her pants in the drawer beneath that one.

“Colton has to make a delivery in Bakersfield, which is why he couldn’t join us for dinner tonight. Of course, Bri is busy with the kids.”

The normalcy her sister was trying to project was too much. Faith gritted her teeth and hoped the annoyance she felt would pass quickly. She definitely wasn’t herself.

“It’s weird being in your old room. It brings back so many memories.”

Faith nodded.

“I thought maybe we could go to the mall tomorrow.”

“I’m not sure if that’s allowed,” Faith said, trying her best to keep focused on the task at hand.

“As long as you’re with someone, you can go almost anywhere. Dad mentioned that you have a curfew and have to be home by ten every night. The only place you’re allowed to drive all by yourself, though, is the anger management classes twice a week. I’ll be happy to go with you, if you want.”

“I’ll be fine on my own. Thanks.”

“I guess Dacotah has to go to a speech therapist. With Colton working such long hours, I don’t know how Bri is possibly going to manage it all.”

Faith rolled her empty suitcase into the closet and shut the door.

“Did you hear what I said?”

Faith nodded, then sat in the chair in front of the desk and turned on the computer.

“You don’t care about what’s going on with the rest of us, do you?”

Faith swiveled around in her chair, finally setting her gaze on her sister. “What do you want from me? I’m sorry for upsetting your neat, perfect little life. I’ve told everyone, including you, thank you for everything you’ve done for me.” She raised her arms in frustration. “But I can’t do this.”

“Do what?”

“Pretend that everything is hunky-dory. Make you all happy by walking around with a smile on my face.
Salmon or roast beef?
Who the fuck cares?”

Jana was on her feet. “Who are you?”

Faith stood, too, her steely, unblinking gaze on her sister as she marched forward until they were nose to nose. “I’m your sister. The same sister who stared into her husband’s eyes as his throat was slit wide open. I watched Craig choke and die on his own blood. You don’t want to know what that sounds like. My kids are gone, and I have no idea where they are.” She inhaled a shaky breath. “Did you know that Lara chose you as her favorite person in the entire world to talk about in the classroom that Friday in school?” Faith nodded. “She did a report on Auntie Jana. And that same morning Hudson found out that he made the A-team in soccer. He’s the fastest runner in his age group, just as you were at that age.”

Jana’s eyes were wide, shocked, her face pale.

“Those men took Lara and Hudson. Think about that for a moment. Visualize it, and then ask me again whether or not I want salmon or roast beef or if I want to go to the fucking mall.”

Jana’s eyes welled with tears.

“I lie awake at night wondering if my children are crying and hungry. I have no idea what those people have done with them. Do my kids wonder why Mom and Dad haven’t found them yet? But you expect me to flick a switch and turn it all off so I don’t make you uncomfortable. Let’s go shopping and forget it ever happened. Sometimes I feel like I’m the only one around here who cares about what happened to them!”

“You’re right.” Jana put a hand to her forehead. “I’m sorry. I was only trying to help.”

Faith’s head fell forward, her chin nearly hitting her chest. “It’s OK. None of this is your fault, but I need some time alone to sort things out.”

F
IFTEEN

It wasn’t the old man from the farmhouse who greeted Miranda and Jasper at the front of the hotel where luggage was being transported from limousines and people from all walks of life were coming and going. The man who greeted them wore a fitted suit and dark shades over his eyes. It was so easy for these creeps to blend into society. All it took was a haircut and nice clothes. Nobody had a clue what she’d been through. Nobody cared. People had their own lives, their own problems.

She thought about screaming and running, but she wouldn’t get far in her new heels. Besides, Jasper would probably grab her and haul her into the car before she could get more than a few feet away.
And then what?
She’d have Mother to contend with. The thought of being whipped and then spending days locked in a dark, windowless room without food or water was not the only reason she smiled at the stranger. She smiled at him because she needed to make everyone believe that everything was OK and she was happy to be there.

She watched the sea of faces, wondered if the elderly couple might come to her aid if she grabbed the lady’s frail arm and pleaded with her to help.

Jasper retrieved her bag from the backseat. When he handed it to her she said in a low voice, “I’m scared. I don’t want to do this.”

He refused to look her in the eye.

Hands full, she watched the man in the suit reach into the inside pocket of his jacket. He was carrying a gun. She could see it clear as day tucked into his waistband. Why did he need a gun? Was he going to shoot Jasper?

Instead of reaching for his weapon, he retrieved a thick envelope from an inside pocket and handed it to Jasper. No words were exchanged. An envelope for the girl and the transaction was done.

Clean, simple, quiet.

Her knees wobbled; her hands shook. Jasper’s gaze met hers, and she saw a flash of—pity? Regret? She wasn’t sure. Was he thinking what she was thinking? That they could have used that money in the envelope to run off? Before she could say goodbye, he merged with oncoming traffic and sped off without another glance her way.

Her heart sank.

For a brief moment she’d dared to think that maybe, just maybe, she had misread him after all and he really did care enough to help her. But as she watched the dented bumper disappear around the next street corner, reality set in and she realized she was truly alone and maybe she always would be.

S
IXTEEN

“We’re going to have to cancel the trip to Hawaii,” Craig said after the kids ran off to play in their rooms.

“But why?” Faith asked. “We’ve all been looking forward to this trip for months. We have airline tickets, and I already bought the kids bathing suits. You can’t be serious?”

“We’re close to signing off on our biggest deal yet. I need to be here. I’m sorry.”

“Why can’t you let Joe handle it?”

“He’s going through a divorce. He hasn’t been himself lately. Please, Faith, trust me on this one. Let me get through this deal, and then we’ll reschedule.”

But it never happened. They never did make that trip to Hawaii. And then at the end of the school year, pink slips were handed out and Faith had been so worried about losing her job, she hadn’t given Hawaii another thought.

Until now.

She welcomed the memories. They were all she had. And yet if she could go back in time and question him further, would she have asked him what was wrong? It wasn’t merely canceling the trip that bothered him that day. He had appeared unusually strained, as if there was something he wasn’t telling her. But always too busy with grading papers and taking care of the kids, it seemed, Faith had let it go.

It was ten minutes before six o’clock. Faith sat in her car, her fingers clutched tightly around the steering wheel. The engine was off. Something creaked. Her head snapped up, and she looked around.

Naked tree branches swayed.

Nobody was out there.

Every once in a while, like now, an eerie, niggling feeling washed over her, telling her she was being watched.

In the distance, she saw movement, shadows between two buildings. A few cars dotted the mostly empty lots across the street. Her eyes narrowed as she tried to see inside the vehicles. It was no use. If someone was watching her, they could be anywhere: sitting at a desk in the top floor of the closest building, perched in the tree, or sitting low inside one of the cars.

She redirected her gaze to the building straight ahead where her anger management class was being held. Most of the people standing around outside had filed into the building a while ago. Apparently there were plenty of pissed off people in Placer County. This would be her first session at anger management. The judge had given her a list of rules. The first of which was arrive on time.

She had five minutes to get inside.

She glanced at the manila folder sitting on the passenger seat. Finding her kids was more important than spending time with a bunch of angry people. She wasn’t violent. Not usually. What she did to Detective Yuhasz would never happen again. She wasn’t a threat to society. She only wanted—needed—to find her kids.

A knock sounded on her window.

Startled, she plunked a hand on her chest, then opened the door a crack.

“Didn’t mean to give you a fright.” The woman standing there wore beige slacks and a button-up shirt tucked in and held in place by a tightly cinched belt. “Are you enrolled in this class?”

Faith wondered how she knew, but she nodded just the same.

“My name is Captain. I’m one of the instructors. You’re going to be late.”

Captain must be her nickname. Everyone was asked to use a nickname because a make-believe name was supposed to make it easier for everyone to talk about his or her problems in front of complete strangers.

The woman looked at her watch.

Faith grimaced. If she didn’t get out of the car and go inside, she would be reported. And being reported meant facing Judge Lowell again, and then how would she find her kids?

Captain waited patiently for her to step out of the car.

Faith grabbed her backpack, shut the door, and followed Captain across the parking lot and into the building. The instructor sat in front of the room. His name tag read,
ZZ T
OP
, which she assumed had something to do with his long, silvery-gray beard. “Have you picked out a name yet?”

“No,” Faith said. “I haven’t.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know. I couldn’t think of anything that seemed fitting.”

“Rules are rules,” ZZ Top said, “and we prefer it if you don’t use your real name. Why don’t we go around the circle and some of the others here will tell you their nicknames and why they chose them?”

A large woman in her early thirties stood. She called herself Butterfinger because she came from a family of perfect people who had a bad habit of commenting on her weight, which only made her want to eat more. The man sitting next to Butterfinger called himself Mufasa, he explained to the room, because he tended to roar instead of talk normally. He’d grown up with eight siblings and said shouting was the only way to get anyone’s attention.

There were many more stories told as they went around the circle. Some sad, some humorous, but all heartfelt.

The last person to speak was a young woman in her midtwenties who called herself Rage. Her head had been shaved except for a Mohawk, a quarter-inch high, down the middle. She wore little makeup, and her grayish-blue eyes had a haunted look to them.

“My name is Rage,” she said, “and everything makes me angry. My mother was a schizo—an honest-to-God crazy woman. One minute she would press my hand against a burner, and in the next minute she would hold me close and sing me a lullaby. Dad couldn’t handle coming home to a crazy lady, so he left us both. At fourteen or fifteen, it’s all a blur, I ran away with a guy twice my age.” She sighed. “My chance for a fresh new start. Only it turned out he had major trust issues, so he locked me in a dog cage all day to make sure I didn’t stray while he was at work.”

People murmured.

“I think that’s enough sharing for tonight.” She sat down.

ZZ Top thanked everyone for telling their stories and then focused his attention back on Faith. “So, does that help?”

Blindly, Faith traced the scar running across her neck. For the first time since she’d been released from the correction facility, she understood why she was being forced to attend anger management. She was still, despite being thrown in jail, beyond frustrated and angry. Not too long ago, her days had been filled with children’s laughter on the playground and watching a child’s face when they had an aha moment and something clicked in the classroom. She loved working with parents who appreciated what she did for the kids and enjoyed it when older children who used to be in her class came back to visit and say hello. She’d been blessed with a wonderful husband and beautiful children, only to have it all taken away in the blink of an eye. Her family had been violated in the worst way. Strange, nameless men thought they could barge into her house and kill her husband, leave her for dead, and then take her kids.

Those men would not get away with it.

She would find them and she would make them pay.

Blood curdled in her veins.

She stood tall, facing the group. “Three men came into my house uninvited,” she said through gritted teeth. “They slit my husband’s throat. My hands were tied behind my back and my mouth was covered with tape. I couldn’t comfort him or tell him I loved him as I watched him die. I felt the serrated teeth of the knife’s blade as it cut through my flesh, and I heard the whimpering cries of my children as they were swept from the only home they’ve ever known. The bastards took my children.” She took a breath. “I’m going to find my kids and bring them home.” Her hands curled into fists and her voice shook as she said, “You can call me
Furious
.”