Hold for Release, page 8
The phone rang
“Hello?”
“Jake, this is Stu. The mail room received another strange package, so the police will stop by to check things out. And I got a call from Human Resources. Allison Console has accused you of sexual harassment. I wanted to let you know because you and I have to sit down with HR tomorrow. You’ll need to be in my office at 8:00 AM sharp.”
“What? Stu, c’mon. You know me. The only thing I’m guilty of is stupidity.” He sighed. “I slept with her. And believe me, anything that happened was consensual. She invited me to drinks and…” He couldn’t remember much other than Allison seemed OK when they woke up together, certainly not accusing him of harassment at the time. An icy shiver… Yet he couldn’t recall large portions of the evening. Perhaps that was a blessing.
“I believe you, kid, but apparently, she’s telling everyone a different story. Says you verbally harassed her after you broke up. So we’ll have to deal with that. See you tomorrow at 8:00 AM. And whatever you do, for goodness’ sakes, don’t wear plaid.”
Jake hung up and headed to the bathroom. He splashed water on his face and fixed his gaze on the dark circles under his eyes as he tugged on his pants. Getting looser by the minute.
He grabbed yesterday’s mail and sat on the couch. His leg shook. Maybe a quick trip to a casino might help him relax. Casting a glance at Granny’s photo on the mantel, he took a deep breath and shifted his attention to the mail. Two flyers from local businesses. More junk mail. A bill. Ugh.
Jake got the checkbook, and his shoulders tensed. Would Carlotta ask for the house? He massaged a knot forming in his left shoulder. Might Carlotta remarry? And who was Geoffrey? Exactly how much of a friend was he? He cracked his knuckles. He loved Carlotta. He sure had a lousy way of showing it, but he did love her. That night had been what it was, a misguided attempt to deal with his pain. Allison meant nothing to him.
~*~
Carlotta watered her Christmas cactus. Poor Elizabeth’s leaves had turned a light brown. Perhaps trauma from moving to a different location. She threw a hand to her forehead. Mrs. Macmillan! Carlotta had almost forgotten to water the neighbor’s plants. She’d go over there later. Maybe after she walked the other neighbor’s dog. Jake said she should say no sometimes. And yet how could she? He was going places with his job, always busy. Her heart felt empty. Doing things gave her importance.
Carlotta perused the newspaper, careful to avoid any stories Jake had written. She turned the page and did a double take. Two more missing women in the tri-state area. What was going on? Hadn’t someone tried to kidnap a female jogger recently, too? What if someone had seen her at the animal shelter and had been waiting for her, and Ed was in the way and got killed as a result?
Rosario entered the kitchen.
Carlotta closed the newspaper. “So, what did the doctor say?”
Her sister grabbed a mug from a kitchen cabinet. “Last time, he performed an ultrasound. Today, he said my gallbladder looks fine. No problems there. Instead, he says I have irritable bowel syndrome. That’s why I feel bloated all the time.”
Carlotta pinched the skin at her throat. “Well, that explains the diarrhea, but what about the vomiting?”
Rosario filled the mug with water and heated it in the microwave. “He says sometimes that happens.”
Carlotta drew her eyebrows together. So this would be a regular thing. How would Rosario manage this condition, go to work, and raise a child by herself? “Did he give you some medicine?”
The microwave beeped. Rosario removed the mug, added a tea bag, and steeped it. “I wish. Nope, he gave me this new diet instead. A list of foods I’m supposed to avoid for six weeks. Then I have to start slowly adding them back to my diet. It’s to help me see what’s causing the problem.”
“So it’s a food allergy.”
Rosario joined Carlotta at the table. “He called it food intolerance. I think it’s different.” She retrieved a paper from the counter and sat back down. “Here. Do you want to read the paper he gave me?”
Carlotta studied the sheet. “Yikes, this list includes tons of different foods. Is there anything you can eat?”
Rosario sipped her tea. “I know. That’s what I thought too. But if it helps me feel better, it’s worth it. At least it’s not something worse.”
Remember how Tia Margarita had fought breast cancer. An awful end to such a beautiful life. “That’s for sure. I was a little worried about you.”
But what if the doctor had been wrong, and Rosario had something else? Cancer, perhaps? Who would raise Antonio then?
Jake cheated on her, and now this. She couldn’t lose her sister, either. What were the odds of both things happening? Lots of bad things happened to the characters in the novels she read. Tons of conflict. Yet things managed to turn out. But what if this proved to be a horror story instead? Then what?
~*~
Jake had survived the morning meeting with HR. He couldn’t remember much about the night with Allison, but he’d told the truth about what he knew and what happened afterward, and that was the most important part.
He now stood in front of the door to Matt and Marsha Stone’s home, a large newer house in one of the northern suburbs. Manicured topiaries adorned either side of the doorway. He rapped on the door.
A man opened the door, presumably Mr. Stone. “May I help you?”
“I’m Jake Hartman. I’m with the local newspaper. I’d like to speak with your family. I wanted to do a write-up on the three missing college students, including Brittany. Maybe someone will see their pictures, remember something, and come forward.”
“Come in.”
Jake followed the man into the living room. The scent of apple cinnamon filled the room.
“Have a seat.” The man gestured to a couch nearby.
“Thank you for talking with me.” Jake sat.
The man’s shoulders drooped. “I don’t want her to be forgotten. Brittany is my oldest.”
Jake gave an understanding nod. “Tell me more about her.”
“She’s a student over at the community college in the middle of town. Majoring in exercise science. She plays volleyball and softball.” Mr. Stone blew out a breath. “If she hadn’t gone to that party…”
A young blonde in shorts and t-shirt came down a flight of stairs nearby. “Hey, Dad. What’s up?”
“This is a news reporter. He’s here to talk to us about…” Mr. Stone’s voice cracked, “Brittany.”
“Arnold. Who’s there? Come here,” a female called from another part of the house.
The young woman plopped onto a chair near Jake. “I’m Madison. I’m a senior in high school.”
“Can you tell me more about your sister?”
“She was…” Madison turned her head away. “Great. The best. She was…”
Jake raised a brow. “Was? Do you have reason to think she’s no longer alive?”
“I’m hoping she’d be found by now, but three girls have gone missing. Like Dad said, maybe if Brittany hadn’t gone to that party.” Madison grimaced.
“Did she tell you about it?”
Madison looked at Jake, then away. “Her friends said there was alcohol there. She had some drinks. Someone could have slipped something in her tacos or drink.”
Jake tilted his head. “Her tacos?”
“Yeah, you know those walking tacos, they…” Madison’s chin trembled. She clasped her hand to her mouth.
“Is something wrong?”
Madison’s eyebrows squeezed together. “I was there, too. My parents don’t know. I’m underage. If they find out, especially my Mom, I’m dead. I want Brittany to be found as much as anyone. I was there with her and her friends. So it’s not like telling anyone I was there would do any good anyway.”
A petite, short-haired woman in a bright blouse and khaki pants barged into the room. Her high heels clacked against the floor. “Get out!”
Mr. Stone followed close behind. “Marsha. Wait!”
Jake stood.
Marsha looked at Madison. “Don’t say another word. We’re not talking to this man. Reporters always try to blame the victim.”
A pinched expression spread across Madison’s face. “But Mom…”
“Not. Another. Word.” Marsha gritted her teeth and pointed toward the door. “Get out!”
“Thank you for your time.” Jake hurried to the door and closed it behind him.
As he walked to his car, he blew out a breath.
He settled into the driver’s seat. Only a few more stops. The college campuses. Three women attending three different institutions of higher learning. No common majors or extra curriculars. He huffed, pulled out of the driveway, and headed toward his next stop.
~*~
Jake parked in the visitor lot of Tonya Miller’s college. He wouldn’t dare go near Brittany Stone’s college. He’d mention her name in his article. That’d be all.
With a quick glance, Jake double-checked the building sign against what he’d written down. Yep. This was the one. He meandered inside and located the women’s basketball coach’s office. He knocked on the door. A tall, thin woman in a t-shirt and shorts answered. A whistle hung around her neck, and she held a clipboard in her hand. “You’re the reporter?”
He nodded.
“Follow me.”
Jake jogged to keep up with the woman as she headed down the hall and turned into a gymnasium. A musty odor filled the air. Several girls set cross-legged on the wooden floor.
The woman stood in front of them. “This is Mr. Hartman. He’s with the newspaper. He’d like to talk to you about Tonya.” The woman looked down and walked to the nearby bleachers and sat, engrossed in her clipboard.
Jake moved toward the ladies. “Hi, you don’t have to talk if you don’t want to, but I’d like to do a story on all three missing students. If you’d like to talk, I’d appreciate it. They’re missing right now, but maybe we can tell their story for them.”
Several girls got up and walked over to the coach. She pointed to some basketballs on the other side of the gym. The women ran toward the other side and picked up balls and performed drills.
Three girls remained. The tallest spoke up. “We went to a party. We ate, and then… It was my fault.”
A girl in a pink shirt to her right shoved her arm. “Stop that. It’s not your fault. Quit saying that. You didn’t do anything.”
The tall girl shook her head. “If I hadn’t eaten so much and gotten sick, then I wouldn’t have had to run to the bathroom and left her alone.”
A curly-headed girl to her left rolled her eyes. “You know you can’t eat spicy food.”
Pinkie leaned forward. “Tonya was a good player. She was our point guard. She was good on defense. She….”
Tall girl spoke up. “Was a great friend.”
Curly nodded. “Yeah.” She showed Jake a photo on her phone. “This is of us the weekend before.” She pointed to a woman on the far right of the picture. “That’s Tonya.” She sniffed.
“Would you be willing to send me a copy of that photo?”
“Sure,” Pinkie said.
Jake handed a business card to the woman. He pointed to the bottom. “Here’s my e-mail address and cell phone. You can e-mail or text me the photo.”
Jazz music filled the air. “Hold on one moment. I have to take this.”
Jake held his phone and turned away. “Hello?”
“It’s Stu. Where are you? You’re supposed to be covering the boat show downtown and covering the bank robbery from last night.”
Jake rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m over at the college…”
“Well what are you doing there?”
“I wanted to do a write up on the missing women.”
“You’re a reporter not a detective. Hurry up and get over to downtown. Then later head to the bank.”
“Yes, sir.” Jake hung up and turned to the ladies. “I’m sorry, but I have to go. Thank you for your time.
What if in his hurry, he’d missed something, important information that might lead to the girls? This was more than the story. This involved real people and their lives.
He huffed. Then again, maybe Stu was right. The police had interviewed everyone. Not as if he’d uncover anything they hadn’t.
~*~
Carlotta glanced outside at the gray clouds framing the horizon, and then re-joined Rosario and Antonio at the dinner table. “Going to be stormy tonight.”
Rosario leaned toward Antonio and wiped his mouth. “No biggie,” she smiled. “Mommy has flashlights and batteries.”
“You’re sure in a good mood. Been feeling better?”
“Yes, I’ve been trying to follow that diet the doctor gave me. And these.” Rosario plopped a bottle of pills on the table. “One of our regular customers at work is a nutritionist. He recommended these. He said some people have digestive upset from low levels of stomach acid. Thought I’d try it. Plus, I picked up another lucky rabbit’s foot.”
Ugh. Her sister and her superstitions. Carlotta stabbed a piece of meat on her plate. “Should you ask your doctor first about taking those pills?”
Rosario smiled. “I’ll be fine, Mom. But thank you for caring.”
After dinner, Carlotta helped Rosario do the dishes.
Rosario then played with Antonio.
The wind howled. Tree branches scratched against the living room window.
“Where do you keep those flashlights? I can get them in case we need them. You stay here with Antonio.”
“In the cupboard next to the bathroom.”
Carlotta went to the cabinet and pushed aside a box. Two flashlights worked. She headed down the hall. “I’ll make fresh coffee. Want some?”
“Sure.”
A few minutes later, the sounds of coffee percolating competed with the blare of a tornado siren.
Carlotta rushed into the other room. “Is that what I think it is?”
Rosario lowered her voice. “Yes, and stop it. Or you’ll scare him. I forgot how frightened you used to get. It’s only a storm, Carlotta. This isn’t about this storm, is it?”
Tornados didn’t induce panic in Rosario. They grew up in the same dysfunctional family, rife with alcoholism and codependency, and yet, they reacted differently. She had her fears, and Rosario had her superstitions. Carlotta lowered her volume to match Rosario’s. “There’s no basement. Where do we go?”
Rosario grabbed Antonio’s hand. “C’mon, buddy. Let’s go to the bathroom. We’ll pretend we’re camping in there.”
Her sister acted like a natural with kids. Was this why Carlotta didn’t have any? Was God merely sparing her? Carlotta bent down and grabbed one of Antonio’s books. “I’ll get the flashlights.” She jogged to the kitchen, retrieved the flashlights, and met Rosario in the bathroom. “Here, buddy.” She handed Antonio a small board book with a fuzzy bear on the front.
“Thanks for grabbing his book.”
“You’re welcome.” Carlotta handed Rosario a flashlight and gripped the other with sweaty palms. She managed a slight smile at Antonio and then drew in deep breaths.
Rosario leaned in closer and touched Carlotta’s shoulder. “Mom wouldn’t go with you, would she?”
The wind howled. The tornado siren continued. How long would this go on?
Her sister moved to face her. “Dad was working, wasn’t he?”
Carlotta chewed a nail. “Mom was….sleeping.”
Rosario pursed her lips. “You mean drunk.”
Looking downward, Carlotta wrapped her arms around herself. “I’d kept you busy by turning on the TV. You were hungry, so I went to the kitchen, and I found some peanut butter and spread it on some crackers. I gave them to you.”
“Then the siren went off. I was scared.”
Carlotta rubbed her eye.
“So you took me to the basement. I remember it was cold, and I didn’t want to go down there. I asked you about Mom.”
Carlotta’s body trembled. “You wanted me to get her, and I tried. But she was passed out. I…I couldn’t wake her. I was afraid she’d die. We were both just kids. I didn’t know what to do.”
Rosario lowered her voice. “Yeah, but you held my hand. You took me downstairs and comforted me.”
Carlotta came closer and brushed her sister’s hair out of her eyes. She bit back a whimper.
Rosario choked up. “Whenever she was passed out, you’d hold me, rock me, and tell it’d be OK.” Recognition flashed in her eyes. “You had to be the parent, the adult in charge.”
Carlotta nodded. Doing things for others, taking care of them. That’s what she did. Putting others first. And besides, who didn’t want to be needed?
Where was Jake? Was he OK? Whenever a tornado siren sounded, he’d go into the basement with her. He’d hold her in his arms, and the tension would melt away. If he was at work when a siren sounded, he’d call her. Always.
She retrieved her phone from her pocket and was about to call him. Her phone displayed several text messages and missed calls from him. Was it possible he still cared? Her heart skipped a beat. It wasn’t too late to tear up the divorce papers. Yeah, but Rosario would chide her for backing down. Yet she’d stayed married to Pablo. What if Carlotta and Jake remained separated. He might change. She slumped her shoulders. Remember Mom. Did she ever change?
“Are you calling Jake?” Rosario huffed.
“I noticed I had some messages and calls from him.”
Rosario rolled her eyes. “Don’t worry. I’m sure he’s safely snuggled up with his coworker.” Her sister snatched the phone from Carlotta.
“What are you doing?”
“Helping.” Rosario deleted the text messages from Jake and handed the phone back.
Heat flushed through Carlotta’s body. “Why’d you do that?”
Thunder rumbled.
She practiced deep breathing exercises for several minutes and then grabbed her phone. No new messages from Jake. Maybe Rosario was right. Perhaps he was too busy in the arms of a younger woman.
~*~
Jake gazed at the unlit street light outside his bedroom and then tried the landline phone. No dial tone. The storm had ended, but he needed to find out if Carlotta was OK.
As he walked about in the dark, he tripped and fell, hitting his head on the bed frame. Using the mattress for leverage, he stood. He couldn’t tell if his vision was impaired by the bump or the dark. He held onto the wooden frame and went to the nightstand to find his cell phone. Wait a minute. Wrong side.
