Chapter 15
CHAPTER
IT WAS HARD to focus on work that week. All I could think about was meeting with the lawyer.
I couldn’t deal with Madison any longer.
As much as I’d wanted to keep things friendly with Max and his girlfriend, if he couldn’t wake up and face what was really going on, then friendly was about to go right out the window.
It was sad. Naturally I wanted my child—my son—to have a relationship with his father.
But if his father wasn’t going to support me in the face of such abuse …
well, maybe it didn’t matter as much as I thought it did.
It made me wonder what kind of man my father was.
If he’d stayed, would life have been better?
Or could it have been worse? Was it possibly a good thing that he’d left us?
An email on Wednesday reminded me that it was time to schedule my next checkup with Dr. Quinlan.
It was crazy, how fast time was flying. It some ways it felt like I had just taken that pregnancy test in the grocery store bathroom, and learned that my casual hookup and I were going to have a baby.
In other ways, it felt like an eternity had passed—an eternity of hope and wonder, but also stress and heartache.
I responded to the email with a few possible dates and times that worked for me, then packed up my bag to walk home. I wondered if Dr. Quinlan would have any news for me about how the gender of my baby had gotten out.
A few minutes later, I was standing at a crosswalk waiting for the light to change when something on the other side of the street caught my eye—or rather, someone, wearing the same all-black outfit and sunglasses, hood up despite the dry September heat.
She was leaning against a light pole with one hand in her pocket and her other hand holding her phone up.
Was she taking pictures of me again? Anger pumped furiously through my veins, tingling in my limbs.
I am so tired of this! It’s time to figure out who this woman is.
This time, instead of foolishly trying to chase her down, I decided to pretend I hadn’t noticed her, and let her follow me.
I made it all the way to my building. Despite my belly making it difficult, I put a foot up on the front steps and pretended to be tying my shoe while sneaking glances over my shoulder.
My shadow had paused right across the street and was now leaning up against an old newspaper vending box.
What would she do if I just … stayed here?
How long would she linger across the street, watching me?
Let’s find out, I decided. I sat down on the steps, put my bag down next to me, and rested my elbows on my legs, as though I was waiting for someone.
I tried not to make it too obvious that I was watching her as she watched me back, hiding my eyes behind my own sunglasses.
The woman put her phone away for a while. Then she checked her watch and looked up and down the street. Finally, she took her phone out again and raised it to her ear to make a call.
I was dying to know who she was talking to. As she talked, she started pacing. Eventually she turned around and faced the building behind her.
Here goes nothing. I got up and ran across the street.
With her back to me, she didn’t notice at first. I made it almost all the way to her before she finally turned around—but not before I heard her say, “I don’t know if Dr. Quinlan believed my story. I’m freaking out.”
She must have heard my footsteps; she whirled around, gasped, and dropped her phone on the pavement.
When I saw her face, I gasped too.
Her straight brown hair was tucked into the hood of her sweatshirt. Even with her sunglasses on, I recognized her.
My stalker was the receptionist from Dr. Quinlan’s office.
She froze, staring at me with wide, fearful eyes. She didn’t even make a move to pick up her phone.
“You work for Dr. Quinlan,” I accused.
“Wha—excuse me?”
“Why have you been following me?” I demanded.
Her mouth fell open, but no sound came out. In a split second, I sprang into action and picked up her phone off the ground. “Have you been taking photos of me? Sending me anonymous texts?” I swiped the screen, but her phone was locked.
The woman made a feeble attempt to snatch her phone back from me, but I held it up high over my head. “You’ll get this back when you start answering questions, lady. Start talking.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about! I’m just waiting for my ride. I don’t know you.”
“Yeah, right. You just followed me for six blocks, all the way from my office. And we both know this isn’t the first time. Why have you been following me? Did Madison put you up to this?”
As soon as her name escaped my lips, I saw the woman’s eyes widen further, in a look of pure panic.
“Please—give me back my phone. I’m just waiting for a ride. I have to go pick up my son.”
“Like I said—answer my questions, and you’ll get it back. Is Madison Clark behind this?”
She was breathing hard, clearly panicking, both hands clutching the back of her head. Then she blurted out, “Fine—keep it!” and bolted away, down the street.
I stared after her in shock. I hadn’t expected her to just run away, without her phone.
I looked at it in my hand, with its olive-green protective case, and a fresh crack slicing across the screen. The screensaver photo showed her smiling brightly and hugging a beaming little boy, maybe three or four years old.
For a moment I felt a little guilty, until it hit me: I have my spy’s phone.
If I could just find a way into the phone, I’d finally have my hands on what I suspected was a treasure trove of evidence hidden inside.
Ellie called that night as I was making myself a grilled cheese on the stovetop for dinner.
“Robert is driving down Saturday morning. My mom thought we could all go out to dinner that night, and you can join us, to give you and Robert a chance to talk.”
“That sounds perfect. Please thank your mom for me. I really appreciate this.”
“Also … I thought I should tell you … that lady from DCS called today, asking more questions about you.”
My stomach did a tiny flip. I hadn’t heard anything from Melanie Daniels or DCS in weeks.
“I went over all the same stuff about the bachelorette party I already said in my written statement.”
“Did she ask you anything new?”
“Just how you and I know each other, how often I see you, what kind of mom I think you’ll be. And then she got all my information for the official report—where I live, where I work, and all that.”
I flipped the grilled cheese, the butter sizzling in the pan. “Thanks, Ellie. Sorry you got dragged into all this.”
Then my eyes came to rest on the phone with the olive-green case, sitting on the kitchen table.
“Hey, Ellie—I’ve got a question for you.”
The next day after work, I headed over to the bistro. As usual, I took a seat at the bar—which I couldn’t help but notice was getting more and more difficult, with my belly in the way.
“Hey, mama.” Ellie leaned over and kissed me on the cheek. “We have those quesadillas you love on special tonight. Hungry?”
“I’m pregnant, so yes—always.”
She grinned. “I’ll get you some. By the way, I finally connected with Jenna. She’s on her way here.”
“Oh, good! I haven’t talked to her in a few weeks.”
“She’s been visiting her mom, I guess.” Ellie looked up as a waiter walked by. “Oh—there’s Marcus. I’ll be right back.”
A minute later, Ellie came back followed by a young man in a white shirt and black pants, a dark-red waiter’s apron tied around his waist. “This is Marcus. He thinks he can help.”
I pulled my spy’s phone out and slid it across the bar toward him. Marcus dropped it in his apron pocket.
“So …” I said a little awkwardly. “How is this going to work?”
Marcus’s expression was like stone. “I do my thing, then I let you know what happens. I need a hundred up front.”
O-kay. A no-questions kind of guy. Thankfully Ellie had prepared me for the cost. I pulled out the five twenties I’d gotten from the ATM earlier. He pocketed the cash and walked away.
“Let me go get your dinner, Savvy,” said Ellie.
Forty-five minutes, two quesadillas, and three iced teas later, Jenna finally walked into the bistro, dressed in a bulky sweatshirt and black leggings. I wrapped her in a big hug. “Hey, you! I’ve missed you.”
Jenna smiled. “Aw, that’s sweet. I’ve missed you guys too.”
I couldn’t help but notice how tired Jenna looked. There were dark circles under her eyes, and her skin looked a little pale and waxy. Her usually lush white-blonde hair hung around her face, thin and stringy.
She perched on the barstool next to me. “Ellie told me about all the drama. I can’t believe that horrible woman posted the baby’s gender online! Unbelievable. Honestly.”
I snorted. “You haven’t even heard the latest.” I told her about catching my stalker and getting a hold of her phone. “One of the waiters here at the bistro is going to see if he can figure out the passcode so I can find out who put her up to all this.”
Jenna’s eyes widened. “Wow—that would be amazing.”
“Well, fingers crossed,” Ellie said. “Marcus isn’t much of a talker, but I’ve heard stories. Supposedly he’s got some impressive hacking skills.”
I turned back to Jenna and smiled. “So, you’ve been visiting your mom?”
“Yeah, this past week. It was nice.”
“Where does she live?”
“Walnut Creek.”
“Oh, yeah—I pass through there sometimes on my way to my mom’s. She’s in Pleasanton.”
“Small world,” Jenna said. Then her smile fell. “My father passed away suddenly a year ago. Heart attack. My mom has been really lonely. I felt bad, I hadn’t been to see her in over a month.”
“Oh, gosh—I’m so sorry, Jenna. That must be really tough.”
Jenna’s eyes got a little shiny. “Thank you. It has been. My dad and I were very close. In a lot of ways, he was my best friend. And it’s really hard watching my mom go through this too. All of a sudden, she’s all alone in that house. I’m an only child.”