Rekindled (37 page)

“Here, let me help you with those,” Mari says. She reaches for one of the gifts cradled in my arms. “How are you feeling?”

“Honestly? Pretty shaken up.”

“Can’t say I blame you. What are you going to do now?”

“Probably go home and eat a big piece of chocolate cake.”

We laugh as we reach Tate’s truck, putting the gifts in the bed. It’s been thirty minutes since Zach left, and while Mari tried her best to keep the party atmosphere joyful, it wasn’t long before people started to leave. Having a crazy ex show up tends to do that, I suppose.

“Okay, well if you need anything, just call me,” she says.

“I will. Thanks again for throwing me a party.”

“Of course. At least it was fun for a little while.”

I smile and bump my shoulder into hers. “And plus, now people will have something to talk about besides Angela’s botched boob job.”

I say goodbye to Mari and climb into Tate’s truck, staring out the window as we drive back to my place in silence. Zach’s words keep replaying in my head.
You’ll be really sorry about all of this.
I don’t know what he plans on doing and that’s the most unnerving part. Zach was always a man of habit. Every morning, he’d wake up at six fifty in the morning, take a ten-minute shower, drink a mug of coffee—black, no sugar or cream—and eat a half a blueberry bagel before heading out the door. In the evenings, before going to bed, he’d have a glass of scotch, neat, check his stocks on his phone, and spend two minutes brushing his teeth.

Even when his gambling began to spiral out of control, he still was predictable. When he won, he’d saunter through the door, his pockets thick with cash as he’d drag me to the bedroom for seven minutes of no-frills celebratory sex, followed by him retreating to his recliner where he’d watch whatever sports games he could find. If he lost, he’d storm through the house, shouting and ripping books off the shelves, and ripping the house apart. I knew after an hour, he’d retreat to his office to sulk, leaving me alone to pick up after him. I knew the next morning, he’d mumble an apology for his behavior before he left for work. It was beyond unpleasant, but at least I knew what to expect.

“What are you thinking?” Tate asks as he pulls up to the curb of my house.

I sigh. “Right now, I don’t actually know. I guess I’m just trying to wrap my head around all of this. I mean, I know Zach wasn’t always a great guy, but I don’t know how he got to be like…
this
.”

“What? Crazy?”

“Yeah, I guess that’s the only way to put it. I barely recognized him tonight.”

“Addictions do that to people.” He turns to look at me and brushes a strand of hair away from my eyes. “I’m sorry you’re going through this, but you’re not alone. I’m going to be here with you every step of the way and I promise we’ll figure it out.”

I wake in a cold sweat. A sliver of moonlight peaks through the window and I stare outside trying to figure out what spooked me in my sleep. I don’t recall having any nightmares, although I rarely ever do remember my dreams. Tate stirs beside me and I carefully sit up and swing my legs over the side of the bed so as not to wake him. Grabbing my phone off the nightstand, I check the time. Two-thirty-four.

Deciding to use the quiet to think, I tip-toe downstairs and make my way to the kitchen. The house feels creepy this late at night with no voices to fill the silence. The only sounds are those of my bare feet against the wooden floorboards, and the quiet hum of the refrigerator. I grab a coffee pod and a mug from the cabinet, and reach for the refrigerator handle when my eye catches sight of the back door.

It’s ajar.

Apprehension crawls down my fingertips as I clutch my phone and sidestep along the wall until I reach the cluster of light switches, flicking them all on at once. I blink three times, letting my eyes adjust to the brightness, before I take a deep breath and poke my head outside. I don’t know what I expect to see, but everything looks normal. The lawnmower is sitting in the corner, left out from this morning when Caleb got a call from a client halfway through mowing, a stack of beach towels hang over the backside of patio chairs, and Jonah’s sand pails and shovels are in a heap by the patio stairs. All completely normal.

I’m about to close the door and chalk up this whole thing to Caleb forgetting to close the door all the way when I see it. Right next to the back gate is a small Spiderman action figure. The same figure that Jonah takes with him everywhere. The same figure I tucked into bed with him before I told him I loved him and to have sweet dreams.

Pure panic propels me forward as I race inside the house and bound up the stairs, two at a time. I stumble over my feet, my knees and palms smacking loudly into the hardwood. “Shit!” My voice echoes into the darkness as I stand up and hobble-sprint down the hallway. Tate steps into the hall, rubbing sleep from his eyes, and I run past him without stopping.

When I reach Jonah’s room, I fling the door open and flip the lights on, praying he’ll still be tucked into his bed. All the air leaves my lungs in a hard
whoosh
when I see his bed. Empty. His comforter is wrinkled on the floor and there’s a piece of paper on his pillow. Grabbing the paper, my hands begin to shake as my knees buckle and I collapse to the floor.

I told you I’m taking what’s mine.

-Z

“Callie?” Tate steps inside the room and kneels next to me. “What’s going on? Where’s Jonah?”

A sob rips through me as I thrust the note at him. “Gone. Jonah’s gone.”

“Okay, let me make sure I have this straight,” one of the police officers says. He licks the pad of his thumb and flips a few pages in his notepad. “Your ex-husband showed up out of the blue last night, after being away for three months. He made a couple of vague threats, broke into your house, kidnapped your son and you have no idea where they might have gone.”

“Correct.” I grip the wad of tissues in my hand, my fingers choking the cushy material. “He was drunk last night, and he’s not right in the head. I don’t know what happened the past few months, but I’m worried he’s going to hurt Jonah.”

I choke back a sob and Tate reassuringly rubs his hand in circles on my back. I want to believe that Zach wouldn’t hurt Jonah, that beneath the irrational behavior he’s shown lately, there’s still a decent man buried inside, but the way he looked at me last night still haunts me. Misery loves company, and if Zach’s truly gone off the deep end, losing everything, I’m scared of what he’ll do to make sure I suffer just as much.

“We see this a lot. One parent isn’t happy with the custody agreement and so they think they can just pick up the child whenever they feel like it.”

“We’re not actually divorced yet,” I reply.

He glances up at me with a raised eyebrow and lets out a sigh. “You’re not?”

“Not technically, no. I had just asked for a divorce when he disappeared.”

The officers exchange a look, and when they turn back towards me, “I see… Look, ma’am, I can see how distraught you are over this, and I promise we will do what we can to help find your son, but I have to be honest. Without a court order showing you have sole custody, we aren’t going to be able to do much. He has just as much right to his son as you do.”

“Are you fucking kidding me? It’s almost three in the morning, and you think that’s an acceptable time for him to just
pop
by and pick him up?” I stand and throw my wadded tissue at his chest. “I am telling you, my husband is not right in the head, and we need to put out an alert to find my son before he does something drastic.”

“I understand how upset you are, but—”

“You’re damn right I’m upset. My child has been kidnapped by his lunatic father, and you’re telling me that there’s nothing you can do about it!”

I know it’s not his fault. I know legally he makes a valid point, that because Zach and I never actually got divorced, in the eyes of the law, Zach is still considered a full parent with rights. But the law’s eyes are blind. The law can’t see how twisted Zach’s become. The law can’t see how Zach didn’t swing by to pick Jonah up to have a fun daddy-son playdate, but to exact revenge on me for choosing my own happiness over him. The law doesn’t know what it feels like to have a child snatched from you, and the law doesn’t care that my heart is breaking with each second my son is missing.

Caleb shows the two officers out and when he returns, he wraps his arms around me, hugging me tightly like he used to when we were kids. “I gave them a picture of Jonah to show around town in case anyone sees him.” I nod, but don’t say anything further. “We’ll find him. I know the police can’t do much right now, but that doesn’t mean we can’t. I’m going to go work on some flyers to put up around town, and then when it’s a little bit more of a decent hour, I’ll start making some calls to see if anyone’s seen or heard anything.”

He walks out of the room, leaving me alone with Tate. “Come here,” Tate says, grabbing my hand and pulling me toward him. He lowers us on the couch, letting me rest my head against his chest.

“What if he hurts him?”

Tate’s chest rises and falls heavily. “If he so much as lays a finger on Jonah, I’ll kill him. But try not to think about that. Negative thoughts won’t help anything. Right now we need to try to figure out where he’d go. Is there anywhere you think maybe Zach would take him?”

“No.”

“Do you think he’d go back to California?”

“It’s possible. I’m going to go call his parents. Maybe they’ll have some idea where he is.”

“Probably a good idea. While you’re doing that, I’ll call my dad and Matt and let them know what’s going on.”

I try calling Zach’s parents, but they don’t answer. I’m not sure whether it’s because of how early it is, or if it’s because they’ve made it clear that they blame me for their son’s gambling problems, but I leave a voicemail on their machine, pleading for them to call me if they hear anything.

Two hours go by and I feel like I’m going out of my mind. Caleb’s putting up flyers around town, and Johnny, Mari and Matt all come by to offer their help. Everyone’s gathered in the living room, pouring over a map of the state, discussing which direction they think Zach might have gone. Needing a break from my fraying sanity, I get up and walk to the kitchen, hoping that cooking breakfast for everyone will provide me some clarity. Or at least a distraction.

I pull out a carton of eggs, and am halfway through greasing a frying pan when I hear the sound of footsteps approach.