The Finding Emma Collection (Books 1-5) Page 2

  “Argh, would you guys get a room or something? Gross.” Alexis groaned from outside the door.

  “Oops,” Megan said while Peter rubbed at his face with his free hand. “I’ll be back with coffee.”

  Peter’s voice stopped her from leaving. “Promise?”

  Megan looked at Peter. Really looked at him. She knew he meant more than just coffee. Their intimacy, or lack thereof, was starting to hurt their marriage. She could see it in his eyes.

  “Yes,” she said. She gave him a wink before facing her daughter.

  “I was thinking we could go out for ice cream or some- thing tonight. You know, to celebrate. . .” She listened to the silence that met her words.

  She took the brush and elastic Alexis held out, spun her daughter around so her back faced her, and then pulled her hair into a ponytail high on her head.

  “Are we really going to celebrate Emma’s birthday?” Alexis asked.

  Peter walked out of the room.

  Megan swallowed past the lump in her throat as she caught the slight droop of his shoulders. “Of course we will.” She kissed the top of her daughter’s head before turning her around to give her a brief hug and glance down at her new outfit. Alexis had changed into a brown sundress with tiny white flowers along the hem, a soft purple cardigan over her top and blue socks pulled high up her legs. Megan shook her head but kept her mouth shut. This battle is not worth it. At least she’d changed her pants.

  “All right, you. Ready? How about if I drop you off at the corner this time so you can pretend you didn’t get a ride to school?” Megan placed her arm around her daughter’s shoulders.

  Alexis shrugged. “Whatever.” They both knew Megan wouldn’t drive away until she knew both her children were safe inside the school. She never did.

  Megan tapped her fingers against the steering wheel to the song on the radio. Something about a girl and a white horse. She didn’t really listen to the song, she just liked the beat.

  She pulled her phone out of her purse and scrolled through the notifications. Seven new emails and one text message. She glanced up, noticed the car in front of her still hadn’t moved forward in the line for the drive-through. She should have just gone inside and ordered, but when she compared the line of people standing at the doors to the line of cars, waiting in her vehicle won, hands down.

  She clicked on the text message from her husband— hurry home. A smile bloomed on Megan’s face. Her fingers danced across the phone’s keyboard as she texted him back. The man needed to have some patience. It had been too long since they played hooky. Just the thought sent a flutter of excitement through her stomach. It had been too long indeed.

  Megan glanced in her side-view mirror. With two cars behind her, it was too late for her to change her mind and suggest they just make coffee at home. She could be here a while.

  She placed her phone on the passenger seat and thought back to when she dropped Alexis and Hannah off at school. A block away from the school grounds, Alexis had begged her to pull over. Up ahead were a group of kids she recognized and there was no way she was going to be caught with her mom. Megan waited as they sprinted down the sidewalk to catch up with the group. Only Hannah, her eldest, looked back to wave.

  True to her word, Megan didn’t drive away until she knew the girls were safe inside the school yard.

  Her phone buzzed. Another text from Peter. As she reached down to grab the phone, the bobbing of yellow curls in her rearview mirror caught her eye. Her heart stopped.

  Emma.

  She grabbed the steering wheel hard and forced herself to take a deep breath. She tried to remember the steps her counselor gave her to do the next time she thought she saw her missing daughter.

  Number one: take a deep breath. Right. Megan filled up her lungs and tried to exhale only to have it catch in her throat.

  Those yellow curls bobbed again, beside an outstretched hand.

  Number two: count to five. One. Megan let out the air trapped in her lungs. Two. She looked in the mirror again, desperate for another glimpse. Three. She drank in the sight of the little girl. Hair in pigtails with a pink ribbon attached to the elastics. She wore a spring jacket, white with large colored flowers.

  Turn your head. Please turn your head.

  Megan held the steering wheel tight. The counting stopped as she waited for a view of the little girl’s face. With her head half turned, a tiny dimple showed as the girl beamed a huge smile up to the woman who held her hand.

  Emma has a dimple.

  The phone vibrated on the seat again. Megan ignored it. Her hand crept over to the door handle, her fingers grasped onto the latch, and she pulled it open. That was her daughter. She knew it. The yellow curly hair, the dimple in her cheek, she looked the same size and age. It had to be her. She opened the door and swung her leg out, only to have her Jeep lurch forward. She jammed her foot on the brake, put the car in park, and hopped out.

  The girl was gone. Despite the cars behind her, she ran across the parking lot and grabbed onto the store door as it swung shut.

  Her daughter and a strange woman stood before her. Their backs were turned. She paused, listened to the gentle cadence of Emma’s voice, letting it wash over her before she stepped forward and yanked her daughter’s tiny hand out of the woman’s. The little girl turned.

  Megan sank to her knees, her vision blurred by the tears that swelled up in her eyes.

  “Emm . . . a.” Megan’s voice faltered as she looked into the eyes of the little girl before her. They were brown. Brown. Not blue. Not the sea blue that shone when Emma was happy or the pale blue that glimmered when they were filled with tears.

  Not Emma’s eyes.

  Megan stood and took a step back. She held her hands out in front of her.

  “I’m so sorry. So sorry . . . I thought she . . . my daughter’s . . . missing for two years.” Megan’s voice faltered. She couldn’t look down at the little girl so she stared only at the woman who looked at her with a mixture of pity and anger.

  “I’m so sorry,” Megan whispered again.

  She took another step back and something stopped her. She turned only to have her way of escape blocked by an older man who reached out to steady her. Megan brought up her arms, pushed his hands away, and rushed out of the coffee shop. Tears blocked her view and she almost stumbled off the curb.

  A horn honked. She looked up and a woman in the van parked behind her scowled. Megan hurried to her Jeep, opened the door, and fumbled with her seatbelt. The honking continued while her phone buzzed. Megan placed her head in her hands as sobs tore through her body.

  Not Emma. All she wanted to do was curl up in her bed and succumb to the pain of what had just happened.

  The van behind her honked again, this time longer. Me- gan put the Jeep in drive and pulled ahead. She was boxed in on all sides in the drive-thru. No way to escape, no way to get away from the woman with her child, the child who looked so much like Emma yet wasn’t her.

  Megan pulled into her driveway and she realized she’d forgotten all about Peter. She stared down at the now-cold coffees beside her and sighed. As if this day could get any worse. Stuck in the drive-thru, she’d managed to choke out her order for coffee. She hid her face at the window, wordlessly handed the money over and drove off before she could receive her change. She’d driven around, mindless to her surroundings. At one point, she pulled over to close her heavy eyes.

  She was empty of tears. Empty of emotion.

  When she walked into her house, the silence slapped her in the face. Megan slipped off her shoes and headed into the kitchen. She placed the coffee on the island and read the note left by Peter:

  “Broken promises hurt. Actions speak louder than words.”

  Megan buried her head in her hands. Little by little, their marriage was falling apart. The fact he’d leave her a note like this said a lot. Too much. Once upon a time, it wouldn’t have been an issue, he would have understood. Not now. She wadded up the paper and tossed i
t into the recycling can beside the garbage. She glanced at the coffee, unwilling to drink it cold but also unable to heat it up.

  The phone rang. Megan closed her eyes and tried to ignore its incessant ringing. She walked into the living room and sank into the chair closest to the large bay windows. With her head leaned back against the cushion, Megan relaxed her body, another step her counselor suggested she try. Empty herself of all thoughts, will the tension to release out of her shoulders, imagine her feet grounded, and push all the negative energy out, starting from the top of the head to the tips of the toes.

  Her counselor said something about a tree with roots and focusing on the depths of those roots, but that seemed too new age for her. Her mother wanted her to pray, but all her prayers went unanswered, so she settled for something in between. She took a deep breath and counted to five before she released it. Her body deflated as the air escaped out of her lungs.

  As she sank into the chair, she opened her eyes and focused on a picture on the wall ahead of her. Emma. The Christmas before she was taken. Her cute little chubby cheeks with the dimple in the middle.

  Detective Riley, the officer in charge of Emma’s case, had warned them that her cheeks would have thinned out since that Christmas but that the dimples would never leave.

  That wasn’t the only change they should expect. Those adorable curls would have been cut off, her hair would be short. She might’ve even been made to look like a little boy, for the first bit. Megan shuddered at the thought. Most kid- nappers will do what they can to alter a child’s appearance right after they’ve been taken so the general public would pass them over. They would be looking for a little girl, not a boy. But it had been over two years now and her hair would have grown. No matter how she looked, Megan knew she would recognize her daughter.

  Like I knew it was her today?

  Megan shook her head as shame flooded through her. Her heart squeezed as her lungs constricted. She gasped as the realization of what had happened washed over her. Her counselor warned her about this. She had to stop looking for her daughter. There were consequences to her actions. She knew she scared that little girl today and probably terrified the mother. She acted like a madwoman. Deranged. Out of her mind. Out of control.

  Megan bowed her head. That’s what was happening to her. She was losing her mind. Everything her mother, Peter, and even her best friend Laurie were worried about was coming true. She couldn’t tell Peter. He would be livid with her for doing this, again. She could call her counselor but she already knew what she would say. Medication.

  Megan shook her head in denial. She would not be medicated. The memory of those first few months after Emma had disappeared was a fog because of the medication. She wouldn’t go through that again. Losing her child was not an illness. Trying to find her, never giving up, that wasn’t something to medicate.

  The phone rang again. She counted each ring, waiting for it to stop. She knew it might be Peter, but she couldn’t speak to him. Not right now. Not after what happened this morning. All she wanted to do was hide.

  Without Emma she was a shell. A shell of a mother, of a wife, of a woman. No matter how hard she tried to maintain the calm and collected persona everyone knew and trusted, it was all a ruse. After today, she wasn’t sure if she could keep it up.

  Megan reached for the blanket she’d knit last Christmas and wrapped it around her. She stared out the front window, mesmerized by the sway of the grass in the gentle breeze. She imagined the feel of the breeze in her hair, the tickle of a dandelion held in the tight grip of a toddler as it brushed against her cheek.

  A sob ripped through Megan’s body. She’d tried so hard not to think about that day.

  The persistent knocking startled Megan and she stumbled off the chair and made her way to the front door.

  “I knew when you didn’t answer the phone, something was wrong.” Laurie Dunlop, her best friend, pushed past her and headed to the kitchen.

  “I hate to say this girlfriend, but you look like crap.” Laurie held out a cup of coffee she’d brought and shoved it into her hands.

  Megan curled her fingers around the hot paper cup. She was so cold.

  “Why aren’t you dressed?” Laurie dug into her purse she’d placed on the counter and slapped down the Kinrich newspaper.

  “I am.” Megan refused to look at the paper and instead glanced down at the jeans and black T-shirt she wore. What was wrong with her outfit?

  Laurie shook her head. “Meg, I love you and I know today is a difficult day for you, but you cannot wear that to the assembly.”

  Megan sagged against the counter and stared at Laurie in shock. She’d forgotten all about the assembly. The coffee sloshed around in the cup as she brought her shaking hands to her lips.

  “You forgot, didn’t you?”

  Megan bit her lip. This assembly meant so much to her. She’d specifically planned it for today on Emma’s birthday. She wanted Emma to be in everyone’s thoughts. How could she have forgotten?

  “That’s not like you. Did something happen?”

  Megan glanced over at the clock. Only a half hour before she needed to be at the school. She shook her head and headed toward the stairs.

  “Meg, are you okay?” Laurie followed her and paused at the foot of the stairs.

  Megan bit her lip. She couldn’t tell her. Not yet. She couldn’t afford to fall apart and that’s what would happen. Tears welled in her eyes before she blinked them away.

  Her shoulders sagged as she dragged her body up the stairs. She had ten minutes to pull herself together. Ten minutes to reassemble herself into the strong woman everyone believed her to be.

  Three

  Megan reached for the cold metal handle and stopped. Her hand shook like an addict’s body in withdrawal. Get a grip, woman. She’d faced larger giants than the pint-sized ones beyond the gymnasium door.

  One. She took a breath. Two. The muffled roar of the crowd echoing through the empty corridors of the school surged toward her. An explosion of panic threatened to overwhelm her as tiny dots clouded her vision.

  Not now. Please, God, not now. Not again.

  Over one hundred children waited inside the gymnasium for her. This was not the time for a panic attack to hit. Megan took a deep breath; her nostrils flared as she wrestled to calm herself. She reached for the handle again, only to have her hand slip off. It was drenched in sweat. If she didn’t step through those doors, she’d hate herself forever. One more thing to add to the guilt.

  Through gritted teeth she yanked open the door and plastered a smile on her face. Jill Maguire, Meadowvale Elementary’s principal, stepped forward and pulled her into a crushing hug.

  “I saw today’s paper. I’m amazed at your strength,” she whispered.

  Strength had nothing to do with it. The attempted abduction plastered all over the news last night had only fueled the fire and determination already in Megan’s heart.

  She wiped her sweaty palms on her thighs as a round of applause filled the gymnasium. Megan gave a slight wave to the kids who watched her with bright eyes.

  She counted the steps to the podium. Counting de-stressed her—at least that’s what her counselor said. It also made her look like a fool when she forgot to count under her breath.

  As the noise in the room receded, Megan cleared her throat and opened her notebook. She had already warned Jill about her opening. This wasn’t the time for fairytale stories and pats on the back. There was a sexual predator in their community and she refused to stand on the sidelines while he attempted to kidnap another girl.

  “Hi, guys.” Megan waved as she looked down over the podium. “It’s good to see you again. Johnny, you should leave Becky’s hair alone.” The crowd laughed. She knew these kids. They lived on her street, took part in her Safe Walks program, and invited her daughters to their birthday parties.

  “Last night, a man came into our town and tried to take a girl away from her family. They were out shopping and the girl ventured
away from her parents and was approached by a stranger.” She looked over the crowd and realized that all eyes were on her and the room had quietened. She gripped the sides of the podium and squared her shoulders. An instant calm settled over her.

  “We all know what to do when a stranger approaches, right?”

  “Yell for help!” the cry echoed through the gymnasium. Megan’s fist pumped the air in response.

  “What if that stranger wants to take you someplace?” The excitement level in the gymnasium sizzled and she loved the feeling. The kids were listening.

  “Don’t go!” the audience cried out in unison.

  “Do you know what that little girl did, even though the man told her he was a police officer? She yelled for help and her parents came running right away. But the man got away. And he’s out there, somewhere, waiting for another boy or girl to trust him. I’m here today to make sure that doesn’t happen.”

  The room burst into applause while Megan choked back a sob. Tears pooled in her eyes and she blinked past them. When the noise quieted down, Megan walked away from the podium and stepped closer to the crowd.

  She held up the town’s newspaper for all to see. It was good to know she wasn’t alone in this fight.

  “You all know my story. But let me make it real for you.” Tears rolled down her cheeks, gathered at her chin, and then fell to the floor. Megan swiped the tears away from her eyes before she continued.

  “The headline for today’s paper holds a picture of my youngest daughter. You’ve all seen this before. Today is Emma’s birthday. It’s also the day she was taken from us, by another stranger in our town. Emma didn’t have the opportunity to yell for help. But you do. If I could have one birthday wish for Emma, other than for her to come home today, it would be for each and every one of you to yell as loud as you can if you ever meet a stranger who wants to take you somewhere with them without your parents’ permission. That would be my wish.”