Chapter 6
Cora
Do they have any idea how hard it is to sit by the phone and wonder if any progress has been made?
It's been three days since the meeting in Pigeon Forge. Other than sending payment information and watching my savings take a massive hit, I haven't heard a word about Sadie or the progress they've been making.
They made it sound like after the money cleared that they'd start work immediately. The information they brought to the meeting made it seem like they'd already gotten started, yet I haven't heard a peep from anyone.
Doubt begins to circulate again, and I know it has more to do with the fact that, although I fought it, I let hope creep in. They seemed so sure of themselves, and I left that meeting thinking I'd get a call on the plane before we even landed back in South Carolina that she'd been found.
I let myself picture using the plane to go pick her up from where she was. The whole damn thing played out in my mind that she'd run to me with open arms and thank me for loving her so much, but I knew better. If anything, she'd yell at me and argue that if I was willing to pay so much to find her, I should've just given her the money when she asked for it. That would be more like Sadie than some imaginary person grateful for anything.
I'd hate to think that either Mr. Anderson or Mr. Yarrow are dragging their feet but, at the same time, I also know that paying someone for something like this doesn't guarantee results either.
In fact, when I think back to the meeting, they made no guarantees at all. I've been around well-spoken politicians long enough to know when people are being careful with their words, making sure not to make promises they later can't keep.
Sickness swims inside of me, making my hands tremble. Did they know something they didn't tell me? Did they have suspicions they didn't voice? Hell, did they plan on taking my money and not doing a damn thing at all? The silence coming from their end is making me lean in that direction.
And to think I found some level of comfort in the fact that they didn't promise me a positive outcome or an outcome at all, come to think of it.
I feel completely helpless as I stare down at the phone number Diego Anderson gave me in case Sadie makes contact or if I remember something that might be helpful to the investigation. I have nothing to offer and that's the only thing that has kept me from calling and demanding answers.
But the longer I sit at my desk, distracted and incapable of doing anything else other than worrying about my sister, the more tempted I am to pick up the phone.
"Cora?"
I snap my head up, trying my best to give my assistant, Alice, a smile. It shouldn't be such a struggle these days to find any hint of happiness, and I hate the way she looks at me. She knows nothing. The Preston family has tried to remain as private as possible, and Sadie not coming home for the last several weeks and my concern over it are just more things I'll have to suffer in silence.
"Hi," I tell her.
"I have that list of resources you asked for," she says, stepping further into my office .
"Thank you, Alice," I say as I reach for the folder of information. "I can't wait to get started on this."
She dips her head before leaving my office, and I hate lying to her. Hell, I hate lying in general, but she works hard. I don't have the heart to tell her I have no idea what she just handed me, and I seriously doubt I'll be in the proper head space to give it the attention it deserves.
There are days I wish I was more like William. I wish I could just block everything out and move forward, make decisions without emotion, but I've never been able to do that. My mother used to praise me for my kind heart while warning me not to be too kindhearted because people would take advantage.
Instead of opening the folder and attempting to sort through the information, I pick up the phone and call Mr. Anderson. I'm going to drive myself crazy not knowing what is going on with Sadie's case.
"Good afternoon, Ms. Preston," he says when he answers, and it throws me off-kilter for a second.
"You have my office number programmed into your phone?"
"We're very thorough," he says, his tone free of any emotion. "What can I help you with today?"
"I'm calling for an update," I say, nervously straightening things on my desk, just to have something to do with my free hand.
"We're working on the case, gathering intel."
"And Mr. Yarrow is in DC?"
"He is."
"You're not very forthcoming with information."
"We don't have much past what you already know, Ms. Preston."
He doesn't sound annoyed or even irritated to have to tell me this. I commend him for that because I'm getting on my own damn nerves.
"Thank you," I tell him.
"Ms. Preston?"
"Yes."
"I'll call if we find anything."
"Thank you," I manage again before dropping the receiver back into the cradle.
Tears burn the backs of my eyes, and I have to blink up at the ceiling to keep them from making mascara tracks down my cheeks.
I can't count the number of times that my sister has broken my heart or left me disappointed in her. She has a history of leaving a wake of chaos wherever she goes. It's why these weeks of silence are so loud. It's not Sadie's style. Instead of quiet, I'd expect her to give an interview on some damn morning talk show, laying out all the family secrets, no matter how it makes her look. For Sadie, there's no such thing as bad attention. If the spotlight is on her, then she's more than happy to just bask in the warmth of it. She never cared about other's opinions of her. She lived for herself and, in recent years, her addictions.
I could see the freedom in doing what she wants when she wants to do it with no care as to how it affects others, but she's also trapped in this vicious cycle of dependency.
I pick up the phone once again, knowing what I'll hear, but it's the only connection I have to her.
My heart seizes when the phone clicks, indicating she answered rather than it ringing five times to go to voicemail.
"Sadie?" I ask, a sob of relief clogging my throat.
"This ain't Sadie," a male voice growls.
"Who is this?" I snap. "Where's Sadie?"
"I don't know a fucking Sadie."
"This is her phone."
"This is my phone. I got this number the day before yesterday and sure as fuck wish you'd find that Sadie chick, so people would stop blowing up my phone."
He hangs up before I can say another word, and when I try and call the number back, it doesn't connect, not even to voicemail, telling me the number has been blocked.
Rage fills me as I dial my brother's number.
"Put William on the phone," I tell his assistant the second she answers the phone.
"Right away, Ms. Preston," she says, but I can hear the snarky tone in the way she says my last name.
"Cora, I'm busy," my brother says when he picks up.
"Why did you have Sadie's phone disconnected?"
There's a beat of silence, and it makes me wonder if he's regretting what he did. I doubt it. William never falters on the choices he makes, no matter if they affect others in a negative way.
"The family is no longer supporting Sadie and her habits. We discussed this."
"She's missing, William. Or did you forget?"
"I wish I could," he mutters, and I'm not certain he meant for me to hear it. "We have to sever all connections to her. I've told constituents, just like Dad did, that we've distanced ourselves from the destructive path that she's on. Her phone is one more connection. I couldn't allow it."
"If she gets into trouble, she might need—"
"That's the point, Cora. She's always in trouble. This time is no different from any of the others. I have a meeting."
He hangs up the phone without so much as a goodbye.
I feel all alone in missing her, in wishing for any sign that she's okay, even if that is another wave of wreckage in her wake.
I know this has a lot to do with how our last meeting went, how angry and hurt she was that I wouldn't cave and give her money or allow her to take our mom's jewelry from the house.
She was right in claiming that half of it should go to her. I wouldn't have blinked an eye in letting her have it if she was stable, but Sadie has never been stable and she didn't want the jewelry to wear to an event. It was going to end up at a pawn shop or in a drug dealer's hand in exchange for drugs, and I couldn't let that happen.
Tapping my fingers on my desk gets me nowhere. Calling people gets me nowhere.
My dad always told me that if I wanted something bad enough, I'd find a way to make it happen, so I guess that's just what I need to do.
I pick up my phone and let Alice know I'm going to take a few days for myself. Although I can hear the confusion in her tone when I confirm a few things I'll need her to take care of, she doesn't ask any questions.
Then I'm grabbing my purse and I'm out the door. One quick stop at home to pack some clothes, and then I can hit the highway. If others can't get to the bottom of where my sister is, then I'll just have to do it my damned self.
I feel as if I'm somehow taking back the power that I've been lacking, but I know it's a long shot that my plan will work. What I can't do is sit idly by and do nothing.