Chapter 26
Chapter Twenty-Six
An hour later, I was pulling into Red River. I’d had the Uber driver drop me off at home just long enough to switch vehicles. I didn’t have much time. I couldn’t wait any longer.
I knew where my child was and, come hell or high water, I was going to get him back.
I drove through the quiet streets of the tiny town, so peaceful and serene, yet holding so much evil.
I still couldn’t get it through my head that Ben knew—was related to, was married to, maybe—Kat.
I didn’t know how they knew each other, but I didn’t care.
He’d lied to me. He’d let this woman into our lives, chosen her over me, and let her take my child.
If I ever saw him again, I was sure I’d kill him.
I arrived on Melbourne Lane, driving slowly. The street lights flickered above me, giving the quiet street an ominous glow, and I looked for the home that would hold my child. Please let him be here.
Six eighteen was the third house from the end of the dead-end street. Inside, there were lights on downstairs, but the lights upstairs were all off. I stopped the car, climbing from it and walking across the yard.
I took cautious steps, looking over my shoulder to be sure no one would see me. What if they’d sold the house? What if they were no longer the owners? What would I do then? I pushed the thoughts from my head, forcing myself to keep going.
I approached the side of the house, pressing myself against the white, metal siding and listening carefully. I could hear the low, steady drone of a television running from somewhere inside the house.
Then, a baby began to fuss, his cries carrying through the house.
I slapped a hand over my mouth, quieting the sobs that came out with no warning and no regard for my safety. He was there. I’d found him. I needed to get into the house.
Quick footsteps hurried across the house, and I tried to follow them, walking around the side and toward the back.
I reached over the gate to unlatch it, letting myself into the back yard.
From there, I lost the sound of the footsteps and fought furiously to find them.
Instead, a light flicked on on the second floor, and I could see a shadow moving around.
Gray’s cries stopped, making me cry harder. Already, she was able to soothe him.
Or was it Ben? Ben could’ve been the one comforting him.
How could he live with himself knowing I wasn’t there?
Knowing if he had his way, Gray would never know his mother.
What would he tell him about me? Would he tell him anything at all?
I stepped behind a bush, keeping my body close to the house as I watched the shadows cast through the yellow glow of the light upstairs.
I sank down onto the mulch of the flower bed, watching the light and feeling helpless. My child was just feet from me, and I had no way to get to him. He was crying for me, for the nourishment only I could give him, and I couldn’t get there.
I should call the police. I knew it, but I couldn’t. I had no proof that it was Gray inside, no proof that Kat or Ben—either one—were inside. I had to get proof. I had to know for sure.
Once the cries had gone quiet for a while, the light upstairs flipped off, and I heard the footsteps descending the stairs.
I walked through the fenced-in back yard cautiously, looking for something to spark an idea.
There was an awning above the back porch that would allow me to walk straight up to the window, but I wasn’t nearly tall enough to get to it.
I walked up to the rusted patio set and grabbed one of the chairs.
I still wasn’t sure whether it would get me up there, but I had to try.
I turned the chair backward against the support beam for the awning. It groaned under my weight, and I froze, waiting, my heart pounding so loudly in my chest I thought I was going to pass out.
After a few silent moments had passed, I leaned the rest of the way up, resting my forearms against the roof. I’d need to use all of my strength, including my core, which had no strength left to give since my cesarean.
I braced myself, letting out a steady breath with my lips in the shape of an ‘O,’ then heaved, pulling myself up.
I cried out, unable to hold the noise in, pain ripping through my body like bolts of lightning.
I was worried I’d torn open my still-healing scar, that my guts would be falling out by the time I made it to the roof, but I couldn’t stop.
This was my metaphorical car, and I was lifting it off of my child with every ounce of adrenaline I could muster.
I pulled, shimmying one leg up and onto the roof, then the other.
When I was up, I collapsed, breathing heavily and blinking back tears.
I moved a hand to my lower belly, checking to make sure my surgical scar was still closed.
To my great relief, though it felt like one place may have opened up, the wound was still mostly closed and I felt no blood.
I lay still for a moment, catching my breath and recovering from the intense pain before rolling over and pushing myself up.
I took careful steps across the roof, hurrying to balance myself against the edge of the house and toward the window.
When I got there, I lifted at the screen, removing it relatively easily.
I tried to push up on the glass of the window, but it wouldn’t budge.
I pushed in, then up, fighting with it. It had to open. I was so close. Just a glass-length away from him. I shoved once more and the window shook, but it wouldn’t unlock.
From inside, I heard his cries again. I’m not sure if all babies’ cries sound alike, but somehow, somewhere deep in my bones, I knew that was my son. I knew it had to be him, and I knew he could tell I was close. He needed me.
His cries grew louder, and I shoved away from the window, lowering myself to the roof when the light flicked on again. I heard her footsteps growing nearer, and then I heard her voice.
“What’s the matter, baby? Why can’t you sleep?” she cooed. Her voice was exactly how I remembered. Eerily sweet and smooth, slightly childish. It made me sick to my stomach.
Suddenly, I had an idea. I scooted toward the edge once again and stared down at the grass below.
I was six feet up, and already hurt and sore, but I saw my window of opportunity.
Without a second thought, I pushed off, shoving myself to the ground.
I landed with a thud, tumbling onto the wet grass.
I rolled over and pushed up without a moment to breathe.
I moved quickly across the concrete back patio and up to the door.
I had one chance to make it work, and I had to pray the door was unlocked and that no one was downstairs.
If Ben was there, I’d confront him. I wasn’t afraid for myself, only for Gray.
I twisted the knob and shoved, and the door sprung open at once.
It took a minute for me to realize I was even inside, pure shock sitting heavily on my chest. How had I managed this?
I didn’t have time to question it. Instead, I shut the door behind me.
I was in a small, dark, and quiet kitchen, and the light from the living room was coming from straight ahead.
I moved to the left, into a laundry room, and looked around.
The house smelled musty and closed up, I guessed from being empty for so long.
There were piles of clothes on the floor in front of the washer and an overflowing hamper in the far corner.
The oversized sink smelled of mildew and had what looked like wet cigarette butts in its drain.
I moved along the wall, following the shadows, and came to a hallway.
To my right was the staircase that led upstairs—led to Gray.
To my left was a door. I hurried up the stairs, taking quiet but quick steps on my way to the second floor.
As soon as I took the last step, a door opened, and I saw her emerge.
She had her back to me, and I darted into the door to my right before she turned around.
The room was pitch black, but I didn’t dare turn on any lights.
I stayed completely still, breathing heavily as I waited for her footsteps to carry on down the stairs. She was slow to go, and for a moment, I didn’t hear anything. But eventually, thankfully, I heard her traveling back downstairs.
I counted to thirty, giving her time to settle in once I imagined she’d had time to arrive in the living room, and then I opened the door.
When I did, I froze. The house was dark. The television and light from downstairs had been turned off.
Where was she?
I moved to shut the door back and heard footsteps coming, returning up the stairs, and my heart pounded harder.
Who was it? Just her? Or someone else? Was it Ben?
The man I’d met at the house who I didn’t have a name for?
What if I was in her bedroom? I ran a hand along the wall, searching for a sign as to what room I was in.
I connected with a light switch as I heard her growing closer but passed over it, searching for more.
My hand connected with a piece of cool, flat metal.
A mirror. I dropped my hands, feeling along the sticky, grimy counter.
I was in a bathroom. I glided across the room as I heard someone moving at the top of the staircase and felt for a bathtub.
I would hide behind the curtain if someone came in.
As I made contact with the glass panes of a walk-in shower, my heart sank. There was no way I could hide there.
I panted in terror as I listened for them to open the door. To my great relief, the footsteps continued past, and I heard them carry on down the hall, farther than Gray’s room. A door shut a few moments later, and I released a long, strained breath.
I sank down to the floor, waiting to give them a chance to fall asleep.
If Gray were to start crying, she’d come for him.
I needed to give myself the best chance possible, though my entire body tingled with excitement and anticipation.
I was seconds away from holding him in my arms, and it was more exciting and terrifying than being wheeled down the long hall on my way to deliver him.
This time, though, we were both in more danger.
I sank to the linoleum of the bathroom floor, smelling the ammonia of uncleaned urine on the floor, and curled my lips.
My body hurt, and taking the moment to slow down was showing me just how much.
My stomach wound felt like it had been torn open again, despite there being no blood, and my skin screamed in agony.
My arms were so sore I was sure I’d scraped my elbow on the roof, my feet were throbbing from my fall, and I’d cut my back on the gutter on the way down.
I was exhausted and terrified, but I couldn’t stop.
I was this close. If I’d given up, I’d never have gotten this far.
Gray was depending on me. I was all he had. I had to find him. I had to get him out of here and away from this woman…away from the danger his father put him in.
We could move away, change our names, and disappear. No one would have to know who we were or where we came from. It wasn’t safe for us to stay. The thought of taking him away was bittersweet, mostly because of my career and Dannika. But I would give it all up, burn it all down for him.
When the house had been silent for a while, I pushed up from the floor and moved toward the door.
I pulled it open a half inch per second, easing it until there was enough space for me to sneak out into the dark hallway.
I could see moonlight seeping in under the doors as I moved stealthily down the hall.
I stopped at the door that held my son, taking a half-breath to prepare myself.
This was it.
I placed one hand on the cool, metal knob, the other on the wood of the door, counted to three in my head, and pushed.