15. ETHAN
15
ETHAN
Lena looks young—very young.
I only recognized her because I was told what she was going to be wearing.
“Lena?”
Her wavy light blonde hair hangs limply just above her breasts. She is dressed in jeans and a billowy floral top that effectively conceals her expanding belly. She’s outwardly pretty despite the sour expression on her face.
She looks as if she could have stepped off the high school campus down the street.
It only serves to further my suspicions that I hadn’t been told the whole story—in fact, I’m being lied to.
She looks up from the cell phone she’s been staring at since we arrived and studies us expressionlessly.
I think we look like the perfect young professional couple.
We’d driven Sophia’s Audi rather than my car so as not to arouse suspicion that we were anything other than what we purported to be.
I feel we’re being watched, most probably by the lawyer, Rodney Pierce, who set this up, or one of his lackeys. I’d never met Pierce, but know him by reputation.
“So, you must be the couple who want to adopt my baby,” she said flatly, showing no emotion.
This is certainly not the reaction I would expect from a mother who is meeting the adoptive parents for the first time.
I don’t expect her to be exactly jumping for joy, but some display of at least hopeful anticipation would not be out of place.
I smile at her, trying to reset the mood.
“Yes, I’m Ethan Blackwood and this is my wife, Sophia. We’ve been married for three years and trying to have a baby with no success. The doctors aren’t sure what exactly is wrong but suggested we look into adoption. Our lawyer contacted Mr. Pierce, who told us about your situation.”
She studies us critically before responding.
“About what I expected,” she says blandly. “Rich young couple. At least you’re better than Harry.”
“Harry?”
“Yeah, Harrison Whitmore.”
“Um, I’m not familiar with him.”
She looks around as if she thinks someone might be watching her, then nods toward the door. “Mind if we sit outside for a bit?”
“No,” Sophia pipes up, “Lead the way.”
We find a table on the sidewalk and Lena sits down, glancing around with a concerned look.
“Sorry, that Rodney guy creeps me out. I think he might have someone watching me. Ever since he came to me and said he could help me, I’ve had a bad feeling about him.”
“He came to you?” I ask curiously.
“Yeah, I mean, when I first found out I was pregnant, I knew I’d probably have to give the baby up since Harry didn’t seem to want to have anything to do with it.”
“Then, a few weeks later, he starts talking about wanting custody. Harry treated me like shit when we broke up, so I didn’t want him to have anything to do with my kid.”
“What about Rodney?”
“I really didn’t know what to do. I mean, it’s not like I have any money, right? Then, out of the blue, Rodney pops up, saying he “heard,” she makes air quotes with her fingers, “that I was in trouble and needed help.”
“I had questions, but he said he could help me with my problem, make sure that I had money, and ensure that Harry didn’t have anything to do with my baby. That was enough for me.”
“Lena, I hope you don’t mind me asking, but how old are you?”
She hesitates as if unsure whether or not to answer.
“I know what you’re thinking, but I am ‘of age.’ I turned eighteen about four months ago.”
“But you weren’t that old when you started dating Harry?”
She smiles slyly. “You definitely don’t know Harrison Whitmore then. He likes ’em young. Hell, he started fucking me when I was sixteen.”
She laughs loudly when she sees the shocked look on my and Sophia’s face.
“My daddy worked for him and took me to his house one day when I was off school. It didn’t take much. Mom and Dad worked all day. Sometimes, I’d go over to his house, and they had no clue.”
“I moved out when I was seventeen and a half. They didn’t care.”
“What happened then?”
“I should think that would be obvious,” she rolls her eyes. “He got me preggers. It was actually kind of funny when I told him. I thought he was going to have a heart attack or something.”
The evil grin on her face indicates she’s clearly enjoying the mental image.
“So, they’re taking care of you then? Making sure you have everything you need?” Sophia asks.
“Yeah, but it’s weird. This doctor they have me seeing has a clinic set up in his home; it’s all pretty modern, and he has all the equipment, like an ultrasound and different machines, but I just thought it would be at a hospital or something.”
“He’s not mistreating you or anything, is he?”
“Oh no, actually, he’s nice. He doesn’t treat me like I’m stupid or anything like Harry sometimes does.”
Lena seems cheerier than she was when we arrived. Maybe it’s the chance to open up to someone who cares about her and what she’s going through.
I’m glad Sophia agreed to stay in this.
“Where are you staying now?” I ask.
“Rodney has been putting me up at the Oakbourne Suites off Highway 603. It’s nice. I have my own kitchenette and everything, but I have to check in with them if I go anywhere. They say it’s for my safety, but I’m not sure about that.”
I’m aware of the Oakbourne Suites, which are pretty swanky accommodations. I know rooms there rent for upwards of five grand a week. Whoever is footing the bill for this is investing some serious cash.
“Let me tell you a little about us, so you know that if you decide to allow us to adopt your little boy or girl—and it doesn’t matter to us which one it is—he or she will be well cared for.”
“Sophia and I both currently work. I’m an investment banker, and she works in public relations. As soon as the baby comes, she’ll quit to commit full-time to caring for the child.”
“We’re well off financially, so the child will have everything they need, the best schools and medical care, whatever they need. We’ve already started a college fund, so the educational expenses will be fully covered when the time comes.”
“If you need anything, anything at all, please don’t hesitate to call.”
I slip her a business card I had mocked up with my name and cell number on it.
“We’ll be going now, but hopefully, we’ll see you again before the baby is born to discuss the particulars. I’m sure Mr. Pierce will keep us abreast of your progress. Thank you for meeting us.”
Her smile drops as we head for the car.
“Oh my God,” Sophia exclaims once she closes the car door, reclining her head against the headrest. “This is fucked up. She’s just a child—or she was when this all started.”
“The legal age in Virginia is eighteen, so Harrison has committed statutory rape at the very least. It also looks like Lena is being essentially held hostage. I’m pretty sure they’re keeping her on a tight leash to keep her quiet.”
“And she did seem to act like she thought someone was following her,” she observes.
“She might not be wrong about that,” I say, inclining my head to the left. “That car over there with the tinted windows, I saw it parked at the beach yesterday.”
“Someone’s following us?”
“It appears so.”
“I didn’t say anything earlier,” Sophia admits, “but I believe someone was in my house yesterday while we were at the beach.”
“This morning, I kept telling myself that it was just my imagination, but when I got back yesterday, the curtains in my bedroom were open and my Apple watch wasn’t where I left it.”
“All the doors and windows in the house were locked, and I searched everywhere but found nothing else amiss.”
“I can’t figure out why anyone would want to keep an eye on us now. We haven’t indicated that we’re not following the plan to the letter.”
“I haven’t said anything to anybody except you. It’s got me baffled. Unless, of course, whoever is having us followed is very worried about something.”
I consider all the possibilities.
“I doubt it’s my parents. That’s not their style. Besides, they figure they’re close enough to me that they’ll spot it if something is wrong. Rodney Pierce? I don’t know him that well, even though he’s my father’s lawyer. He’s invested a lot in this, though.”
“So, he may be trying to keep tabs on things. My biggest concern is Whitmore. What is he capable of?”
“Do you think we’re in danger?” she asks, somewhat naively in my opinion. I don’t think we are now, but once we start digging deeper and once people find out what we’re doing, we certainly will be then.
I decide not to tell her any of this. She’s already on edge, and I need her calm.
One thing I have to do is start planning an exit strategy. Once the dominoes start to fall, it will be too late.
Money is not an issue. We won’t be able to use credit cards when we go off the grid, but I have a safe containing a couple of hundred thousand at the house. Some people call that excessive, but you can never be too careful.
I’ll also have to find a different car. You can’t exactly hide in an Aston Martin. Even Sophia’s Audi would be too conspicuous.
Fortunately, I know a little used car lot in town that will readily sell me a nondescript sedan with very few questions—for the right price.
I don’t know where we’ll stay, but there are always plenty of motels in little out-of-the-way towns that dot the East Coast. Again, many of these places will rent you a room without many questions—for the right price.
I have to know what Whitmore is up to, and I have the perfect person for that.
I pick up my phone and punch in a number.
“Graham, it’s Ethan. I need a favor.”