Chapter 18 – Cora #2
She’ll be okay in the end. Adrian is a good dad.
He doesn’t think he is, and he’s nothing like a TV or influencer dad, but he makes sure they have what they need, and he cares if they’re happy and comfortable.
He’d never hurt them. I think he’s actually afraid he might hurt them by accident, which a bad man would never worry about.
I wasn’t smart when I picked him—or went along with him picking me—but I was lucky.
We drive the rest of the way to Gideon and Kendra’s in silence.
Martinez stares stonily out the window. He knows Adrian will be furious.
He’s probably thinking about Schmidt and Tiller and how they’re not around anymore.
I feel awful—about that and the Scorpion and letting everything get so far away from me.
I only wanted a normal life. To be loved like a normal person. I thought I was, for a while. I guess that’s more than a lot of people get.
When Johnson pulls up in front of Gideon’s, I tell the men to stay put and wait for me. Winnie is asleep. Pearl usually naps in the car, too, but she’s wide awake.
I throw the leather satchel diaper bag over my shoulder, cradle Winnie to my chest, and grab Pearl’s hand. “Come on. Aunt Kendra is going to be so surprised and happy to see you.”
I don’t know how my brain thinks when it’s so full of wool, but somehow, part of it can always function on automatic, even when the rest is veering off the rails.
Delaney is a piece of shit, but she’s right.
My girls aren’t safe with someone like me.
If Adrian had done anything half as crazy as me, we’d be gone, even back when I loved him.
If CPS sees that video, they’ll take them, and they are never, ever ending up in a stranger’s house with a bedroom door that doesn’t lock. Not while I’m alive.
The horrible chasm cracking open inside me is temporary. Soon enough, I can let go. Float off. I just need to get away first.
Kendra answers her front door soon after I knock. She must’ve been passing through the foyer. The house is huge.
“Cora! And the girls! What are you doing here?” She gestures us inside, peering at the car to see who drove us. “Do your men want to come inside?”
I shake my head. “I’ll only be a minute. I need you to watch the girls for a little bit while I run an errand.”
“Of course. I’d be delighted.” Kendra smiles warmly at Pearl, but there’s concern in her eyes. I never ask her to babysit at the spur of the moment. “What’s come up? Anything I can help with?”
I shake my head, bending to kiss Winnie’s soft head. She’s snoring softly, limp and a little sweaty like she gets when she’s really conked out.
“Here,” I pass her to Kendra. She startles, not prepared, but she recovers quickly and snuggles Winnie to her chest.
Lowering myself to one knee, I look Pearl in the face. “You be good for Aunt Kendra, okay?”
Pearl nods, solemn as a judge.
“And watch your sister.”
“Yes, Mommy,” she says softly. The blood rushes louder in my head.
“I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
I force myself to stand. That’s enough.
I’m not sure when was the last time I saw my mother. I remember waking up to banging on the door and the police in SWAT gear and the stuffed bear the paramedics gave me, but all my memories of my mom come from before that night. If she said goodbye to me, I can’t remember. It’s better that way.
I catch Kendra’s worried gaze. “Adrian is working, and he can’t be disturbed. If you need anything, call me.”
Her eyes widen as she adds two plus two and gets five.
She probably assumes that I don’t want Adrian to know that I’m off on my own, and I guess I don’t.
Maybe she thinks I’m going to see a lawyer.
I bet she has, or wishes she could. Gideon clearly makes her miserable.
Good for her getting some distance from him.
“Are you sure there’s nothing I can do to help?” she asks.
Forcing a smile, I assure her, “Watching the girls on such short notice is more than enough.”
I give Pearl a quick hug and Winnie another kiss, and then I stride out the door like I’m not leaving every organ in my body behind.
This is the right thing. I’m past the point of trouble. The roar in my ears is fucking with my eyes. Distances won’t hold steady. The car is a mile away, but I’m there in a split second, and Martinez is opening the door.
What do I do next? Get away, but how can I with these two up my ass? Johnson is staring back at me from the driver’s seat, his lips moving. What does he want?
“Mrs. Maddox?”
He must want to know where to go. I don’t know. I have nowhere. Mrs. Flowers is gone, and she was a person, not a place. There is no home. I had Adrian, but that was temporary. Every place is temporary.
Where was I just now?
Kendra’s.
I can’t go back there. I can’t let them take the girls. What was that thought I had about what Kendra must think? That I’m going to see a lawyer? I have a lawyer. I ditched my security the last time I saw him. What was his name?
“Take me to my lawyer,” I say and then the two functioning wires in my brain touch and spew out a name. “Drake Chambers.”
Johnson talks some more—the sounds buzz around the car like trapped flies—but I can’t match them with words, and eventually, he must figure it out himself because we start moving.
As we drive, I stare sightlessly out the window. Horrors crowd the edges of my mind, clutching my lungs with skeleton bone fingers, but most of me is floating alongside the car in its cold, windy wake. The sky is low and gray. Everything is over now. Again.
When we get to the Tudor office building in Scarsdale, I say, “Stay here. This is my lawyer’s office. You can’t come in.”
Practically leaping from the car, I leave them staring at each other, deciding whether or not to listen.
From where they’re parked, they have a clear view through the glass front doors into the lobby, and they’re watching like hawks as they argue with each other.
I can’t slip out the back. They’d see. I’ll have to go up the elevator and come back down on another floor.
There must be an exit that takes you out the back.
The doors slide open almost as soon as I push the button.
“Mrs. Maddox!” Drake Chambers exclaims. “What are you doing here?”
He’s standing in the elevator, dress shirt and tie, no jacket, with a big brown bag in each arm. Italian food, by the smell of it. My stomach lurches.
“I hope you’re hungry. Jules ordered enough to feed a family of five.” He gestures me onto the elevator.
I glance to my left. Martinez is getting out of the car. I step forward.
“Hit three, will you?” Drake asks.
I do as he asks. He stares at me expectantly. Whatever he asked, I’ve already forgotten, and besides, my voice doesn’t work.
As the silence stretches, his friendly expression doesn’t change except for his eyes and the cast of his mouth—the face that shows behind his mask. Everyone is so fake. Plastic figurines walking around.
“You’ve got good timing. I was going to duck out for racquetball after lunch since my two o’clock cancelled.”
We arrive on the third floor, and Drake nods for me to get off first.
“Will you be a dear and grab the door?” he asks.
I do, holding it open for him.
“Lunch!” Jules jumps up from her desk. “And Mrs. Maddox. How are you?” She bustles over. Drake passes her the bags, and she props one on each hip like babies.
“I have to get out of here,” I blurt. “I have to get out of town. I can’t be here anymore.” I force the words past the logjam in my throat, trying to sound calm and rational, but I have no control, and my tone and volume careen like a slide whistle.
Both of them stare back at me, fake-faced, that look in their eyes, the one I’ve seen hundreds of times before—what is this? What problem have we here, what noncompliance, what hassle? This isn’t part of the job description.
“Please,” I beg. Their bland, helpful smiles freeze, hiding their disdain.
Pretty girls are supposed to break like electronic toys—quietly, with no real loss of appeal. We’re not supposed to be pitiful. To make people uncomfortable. We exist for the opposite purpose, right?
“Why don’t you come into my office, and we can talk?” Drake is holding his office door open. How did he get over there?
I scrub my eyes. I have to figure out what to do.
Instead, my dumb feet follow his suggestion.
“Have a seat. Would you like some water?” he asks.
I sink into the upholstered chair across from his desk. I can wait here a minute. Collect my thoughts. Figure out how to get out of this.
He murmurs something to Jules and then takes his own seat.
He’s brought a brown bag with him and unpacks it as he speaks, “Would you like some? Let’s see—” He peels the plastic lid off an aluminum container and sniffs.
“We’ve got stuffed shells. This place—Casa di Roma, they’re just a local place, a hole in the wall—but they make the best sauce. Homemade. Delicious.”
He kisses his fingers and takes out another container—a salad—and a small loaf of Italian bread.
“Let me make you a plate,” he says. “Stay here. I’ve got plates in the kitchenette. Are you sure you don’t want something to drink?” he asks as he disappears.
I don’t know how long he’s gone. A while. My brain crisscrosses back and forth. I have to get out of here, but Martinez and Johnson are downstairs, or they might have found the office by now. They could be sitting in the waiting room. I have to get past them somehow, and then what?
I can’t let CPS take the girls away.
I swore I’d never let anyone hurt them, and I put them in danger. I did.
My cheek itches. I scratch it. My fingers are wet when they come away.
I shouldn’t have buckled my seatbelt. I should have driven for the wall on the far side of the garage.
No, no, no. I scratch my cheek again, digging the nails in. I can’t think like that. Pearl and Winnie love me. I’ll never leave them like that. They will never think that they’re not worth fighting for with every ounce of my strength.