Found Wanting (9 page)

Going to their apartment could waste precious time. But it was also the most likely place Mitch would go upon finding her missing. And if Jonah were there, Mitch would get to him first, and that absolutely could not happen.

Alaina grabbed the denim shirt hanging on the back of the desk chair and shrugged into it, tucking the dangling handcuff into the sleeve. Whipping open a desk drawer, she dug out the hotel information to decipher where she was and where to find the closest bus stop or train station.

Finally, luck was on her side: A bus stop was only two blocks away.

On her way out the door, she spotted the loose change on the desk and stopped. Her predicament hammered home. She'd dropped her purse when she'd been hit by the car and had not seen it since. She had no ID. No money. No credit cards. No checkbook.

Even if she hadn't decided to try to catch Jonah at home first, she had to go there anyway to retrieve the locked firebox stashed at the back of her closet for exactly this instance. That box held the new identities that she'd bought for them just after they'd arrived in Chicago, when she'd made preparations for the next time they'd have to run. She'd expected it to be sooner than this.

Scooping the change into her cupped hand, she pocketed it. She'd need it to pay for the bus and train ride to her car. Luckily, she had had to double park her Honda for work that morning and had left her keys with a garage attendant. She didn't anticipate having any problem getting them back without the ticket because she parked there every day, and the attendants knew her.

Outside in the cold drizzle, she walked as fast as she could for the first block, constantly scanning for Mitch and praying that wherever he had gone hadn't taken him in the direction she was headed. The wind was sharp, and she huddled against it, ignoring the throb in her shoulder, the ache in her chest.

She prayed that Jonah was okay, that he hadn't seen what had been done to Grant and Lucas or hadn't been injured himself. Remembering the blood that Mitch said had been Lucas' made her head spin. It so easily could have been Jonah's blood. She shoved the memory away, turning her face into the rain to clear her head.

Even so, guilt was a balled fist in her stomach. The Maxwells had gotten hurt because of her. She had tried to cut herself off from others, to isolate herself and, with the exception of Rachel, she had succeeded. But she couldn't have asked the same of Jonah. The boy had to have friends. How could she have possibly denied him friends?

And, really, she hadn't thought any of them, even Rachel, were in direct danger from Layton. He had never indicated that he wanted to harm anyone close to her. One of his people had found her once, and that had had a tragic outcome, but not because of any orders that came from Layton. Yes, it was true that she feared him. She had good reason to fear him. But her main objective the past fourteen years had not been to run for her life. It had been to keep from being found, because if she was found, she would lose Jonah.

But now her mother was dead, and the only reasonable explanation was that Layton had killed her to keep her quiet. Her death was simply too much of a coincidence. Eve had seen him for who he was. He couldn't have let her live, knowing what she knew.

The fist of guilt clenched tighter as Alaina remembered how she had taken Jonah and run, leaving her mother behind with the unconscious Layton. She had thought about nothing but escaping, saving herself and keeping Jonah from his father. But she hadn't known, she told herself. She hadn't known he would kill.

And now both her parents were gone. Just six weeks ago, she'd seen in the news that her father had died. She'd felt bad, even grieved for him, but the sadness had been nothing compared with what she felt now. Her mother was dead because of her, because she had run away.

Tears mixed with the rain that dripped down her cheeks. Inevitably, she remembered another woman whom she had loved like a mother. That woman had also become a casualty of Layton's, however indirectly.

Alaina kept the memories at bay until she had boarded the bus and was staring out at the rain-drenched Chicago streets. Madison, Wisconsin, was little more than a hundred miles away, and her life there felt like it had happened a hundred years ago.

The first two years had been a struggle, but she and Jonah had survived.

But then chronic ear infections and bronchitis had besieged Jonah, and she began to lose waitressing job after waitressing job because she couldn't afford a babysitter to stay with him alone, and the day care center that catered to working, single mothers wouldn't take a sick child. She was at the end of her rope, broke, scared and starving, having spent almost the last of her cash feeding Jonah and paying for his medicine. She hadn't paid utility bills in three months, and the phone had been cut off the day before. The rent was due, and the landlord had been about as understanding as he was going to be.

She remembered standing on a street corner in downtown, Jonah perched on her hip as she waited for the "walk" sign to flash. The dome of the capital building loomed several blocks up, massive and white against the bright blue sky. Glittering Lake Mendota stretched to the horizon on her right. The air was cool and crisp, fresh with the promise of spring. She had five dollars in her pocket and was heading to a diner the next street over to apply for a waitressing job. If she didn't get it, she didn't know what she would do.

They would have to go back.

She shuddered just thinking about it, but let the scenario unfold in her head. She would go to jail for kidnapping. And Layton Keller would raise her son to be just like him. Stone cold dead inside. She imagined she would never see Jonah again, not even for a supervised visit.

But at least he wouldn't starve.

"Want down," the toddler said, squirming in her arms.

She smiled as she lowered him to the ground, glad for the reprieve. The muscles in her arms were screaming from carrying him, and she felt weak and shaky from lack of food. "Okay, but you have to hold Mommy's hand."

He gripped her fingers obediently, his blue eyes wide as he looked around at the tall buildings and rushing pedestrians.

The light turned, and they crossed the street, Jonah's little legs pumping to keep up. They were halfway down the next block when Alaina began to feel dizzy, and she paused to brace a hand on the wall of a building. Pedestrians streamed by, oblivious as Jonah tugged her fingers.

"Let's go," he said, mimicking the commanding voice she used to get him into the bathtub at night. "Let's go. Let's go."

She wondered vaguely if, when she said that to him at night, her tone was as annoyed. But then the sunny day turned white, and her knees buckled.

When she opened her eyes, she started up. "Jonah!"

A firm hand pressed her back. "Just take it easy, missy. He's right here. Look."

She turned her head to see him plopped on the floor only a few feet away, surrounded by books and toys. His brow was furrowed as he concentrated on trying to fit a red plastic square into a triangular hole, not a care in his two-year-old world.

A glance around told her they were in a bookstore. Shelves reached to the ceiling, packed with old and new books alike. Overstuffed sofas and chairs provided comfy perches for customers while they read. Soft piano music set the mood for the store: soothing, unhurried.

Alaina realized she was stretched out on one of those overstuffed sofas, and that the older woman kneeling beside her was watching her intently. The woman was at least seventy, her hair white, her face lined in a way that reminded Alaina of a comfortable, well-worn leather coat. Her eyes, a brilliant blue that time had not managed to fade, were kind. And concerned.

Alaina tried to smile as she sat up. "I'm so sorry I --"

The woman put a cool hand on her arm. "I think you should stay put a little longer, dear."

"I'm fine, really."

"It won't hurt you to sit here a minute," the woman replied, gentle but firm. "Cliff will be back any minute now with some water."

Still shaky, Alaina let the sofa's cushions support her back, too weak to even sit up fully. She hoped water would help. Checking her watch, she saw with dismay that she was going to be late for her job interview. Again, she started to get up. "I really need to go. I'm late."

The woman gripped her arm, her strength surprising. "Whatever it is can wait," she said.

Alaina relented because she didn't think her legs would support her anyway. "Where --"

She broke off as a teenager with floppy blond bangs and wire-rimmed glasses -- he reminded her of cousin Oliver from the Brady Bunch -- returned with a glass of water. "Here you go, Miss Whitfield."

The older woman accepted the water. "Thank you, Cliff. Now, I need you to fetch something else for me, dear. Run next door and bring me back a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and one of those turkey clubs that Gus has on special today. Tell him to pile on the chips and add a couple of his famous oatmeal cookies. Oh, and grab one of those little cartons of milk he has in the fridge by the door."

As Cliff scampered away, the woman smiled at Alaina and offered the water. "You're drooling, dear."

Alaina's hand flew to her mouth, but then she saw the teasing sparkle in the woman's eyes.

"Ah, yes. It's good to see some color in your cheeks," the woman said, smiling, then patted the bottom of the glass. "Drink up now."

Alaina swallowed the cool water, her gaze shifting to Jonah, who had conquered the red square and now had a jack-in-the-box upside down on his lap. He inspected it from every angle, trying to figure out what it did or how it worked.

"I'm Emma Whitfield," the woman said.

Alaina looked at her. "Thank you. You're being very kind."

Emma waved a dismissive hand. "You fainted in front of my door. I couldn't leave you there. It would have been bad for business."

Alaina laughed softly. "I suppose so."

Emma waited a beat, apparently expecting Alaina to introduce herself. When she didn't, Emma said, "You're not one of those anorexic girls, are you? Maybe some kind of model?"

Alaina shook her head, but Emma appeared unconvinced as she gripped Alaina's chin and turned her head this way and that to inspect her features. "You've got the bone structure of a model, that's for sure. You sure you're not starving yourself for your art?"

"I'm sure."

"Then why are you?"

Hunger apparently had made Alaina's brain sluggish. "Why am I what?"

"Starving."

"I'm not --"

Emma stood, cutting her off as she moved to balance on the end of the sofa where she could see Jonah better. Her warm gaze turned quizzical when it returned to Alaina. "Is it drugs?"

Alaina stiffened her back, alarmed. "Of course not."

Emma's smile was slight. "Relax."

But Alaina pushed to her feet. She didn't need this, some meddling woman deciding she was a terrible mother and getting social services involved. "We really have to go. I'm --"

"Late. You mentioned that earlier. What are you late for?"

Alaina faltered, annoyed at the third degree but intimidated enough by the woman's commanding tone to answer. "A meeting." Seeing Emma's brow arch, she added, "A job interview." She didn't know why it mattered that this woman didn't think she was a deadbeat.

"Ah. Do you read?"

Puzzled and a bit insulted, Alaina said, "I can read, yes."

Emma's blue eyes sparkled with amusement. "What was the last book you read?"

"If You Give a Mouse a Cookie. It's Jonah's favorite."

"Jonah." The older woman glanced at the little boy, and her expression turned wistful. "He's a beautiful child."