Broken Build (36 page)

“Okay, you don’t mind if I let myself out?” the man called back.

“No, sweetkins, we’ll be in here a while. Don’t forget to pick up Emily this afternoon.”

Once she shepherded Jen into Lola’s room, Vera tugged her arm. “What’s going on?”

Jen’s stomach churned for a lie, a plausible one. “Rey told me he was having problems with Emily’s mother. And there’s been a crazy woman emailing me saying I stole Rey from her. But I don’t know if she’s lying or not.”

Vera pulled a box out of the dusty closet. “I wasn’t around when she dropped Emily off. My mother was here. She said some white woman rang the bell. When she opened the door, she found Emily sitting in a car seat. She caught the back of the woman running away. The note said the baby was Rey’s and the birth certificate came with it. Ah… here it is.”

Vera stared at it and gave it to Jen. The father was listed as Rey Custodio and the mother Patricia Brown. A flush of cold sweat prickled Jen’s skin. Patty Brown! Alex’s mother, the woman with the little girl at her apartment. But if Emily was Rey and Patty’s baby, who would that girl be? Could she be Abby?

“Did Lola describe her?” Jen asked.

Vera shook her head. “Not well. Long, frizzy brown hair. Could be anyone, I guess. Common name, too.”

Sounded like Melissa Bowers, but that would be too crazy… unless Rey blackmailed her for sleeping with him, and she ditched the baby and put a fake name on the birth certificate.

“Can you make me a copy?” Jen asked.

“I’m not sure why you need it.” Vera stifled a yawn. “As far as I know, Emily’s mother is out of the picture. Rey had no contact with her.”

“I have to show it to my lawyer to get a restraining order,” Jen lied.

“Okay, whatever.” Vera took the certificate. “Put these boxes back while I scan it.”

Jen rearranged the boxes and piles of paper. A pink envelope caught her eye—addressed to Jennifer Cruz. She was about to open it when Vera approached the room, so she shoved the envelope into her jacket.

Vera handed her the Victoria’s Secret bag and a packet of photos. “Some photos of you and Rod. Oh, and Dave left a message asking me to give you the bag he left at the mall. How come you acted like you didn’t know him?”

“Don’t believe everything you read on the internet, okay? Thanks.”

They kissed on both cheeks, and Jen ran for the privacy of the rental car.

* * *

Jen pulled out a single sheet of stationery from the pink envelope. She unfolded it and traced a finger over Rodrigo’s elegant handwriting. Her eyes misted.

Dear Jennifer, I can’t explain why I had to break it off. I’m not mad at you, and I’m sorry you lost your baby. I wish I could have held your hand. Love, Rod.
A sticker of two teddy bears and a heart between them sat above his signature.

Tears flooded through Jen’s fingers, and she rested her head on the steering wheel. Her baby. Like she alone was responsible. The ache in her heart expanded and contracted. No one loved or cared about her, no matter how much she gave, how hard she tried.

Her phone rang and displayed an unknown number. Jen hurriedly wiped her tears and took a stabilizing breath.

“Hi, I’m Mrs. Sanders, Christy’s homeroom and English teacher. Do you know where Christy is?”

“Uh, she’s not at school?”

“No, no one called in and when I called Mrs. Walker, there was no answer. Did you know she was scheduled to go before the student court for plagiarism?”

“What?” Alarm bells clamored in Jen’s mind. Christy was cutting school again. Great.

“I’m still doing a literature search, but I don’t believe your sister has the poetic experience to write such a dark poem. She always struck me as a popular, light-hearted girl. And this poem was written from the point of view of a man whose lover had died.”

“Why, what was it about?”

“A ghostly car dressed in blood with a wig made from the long, black hair of his beloved hanging off the hood ornament.”

A chill of terror slashed down Jen’s spine. “H-hanging off the… the hood?”

“Yes, it’s creepy, isn’t it? Tell Christy if she doesn’t show, she’ll be doing Saturday detention for a month.”

 Jen agreed and hung up. Where had Christy gotten the poem that sounded suspiciously like Rey’s death? Unless, Sammy told her?
Oh my God. What if she’s with him right now?

She texted Christy,
Where are you? Mrs. Sanders called.

Her phone dinged with a received text,
I’m safe, Christy.

Safe? Jen didn’t ask her whether she was safe or not. Something was awfully wrong. Jen pushed redial, but her call went to voicemail immediately. She called the Walkers. No answer. She’d have to go over there.

Fifteen minutes later, Jen gaped at the crime scene tape surrounding the Walker’s stucco house.

Chapter 35

Dave called Claire’s cell, but she didn’t answer. He had to talk to her. This was an emergency. Even though she had told him never to call her home, he dialed it anyway. Her answering service picked up. He explained who he was and that it had to do with her investment. A series of beeps whirled as the operator transferred the call.

“Mrs. Tyler will be on shortly,” the chirpy female voice announced.

Dave tapped his desktop with his fingertips.

“Darling?” She yawned.

He told her about the ransom demand, barely able to finish one sentence before staring another.

“I’ve got everything you need. Steve has a briefcase full of Ben Franklins for situations like this. Give me forty-five minutes, and I’ll meet you at your place. Be careful when you get to your driveway. The body shop returned all three cars. I have the keys.”

The air escaped Dave’s lungs with a rush. “Thanks, you’re a lifesaver.”

“Anything for you, dear heart.” She squeaked a kiss over the line and hung up.

Dave locked his office door and left a message for Lisa. Where the hell was she? She hadn’t called in sick. No time to worry about it.

Marty collared him as he rushed to the men’s room. “We have requests for people to automatically raise bids as inventory drops. Merchants also want the ability to compete for a purchase by offering a time-limited discount by text message. And the Shopaholic referral program worked so well, particularly in India—”

“Later.” Dave waved his hand. “I have to go somewhere.”

“The auto-raise is a must have,” Marty followed him. “When do you think we can update the code?”

“Depends on when we get auto-update fixed. I’ll notify engineering.”

“Great. This is going to be big, Dave. Big.”

Dave forced a smile. He texted Praveena to lead a meeting on the new feature requests. Then he sent a message to Bob, the test manager, about the auto-update issue. To his surprise, a reply came immediately.
Auto-update is working as expected. Someone must have fixed it before we posted. I tested it this morning and the logs say it completed without error.

At least one thing went right.

* * *

Dave drove carefully around the newly repaired cars on his driveway. He needed Claire, but he had to cut it off, tell her he was serious about Jen. Before or after she handed him the money?

The Golden Rule. Do unto others… But would she still give him the money? He couldn’t endanger his daughter. But then, would God bless him if he continued in this deception?

He pulled out his iPhone to check his email. First message was from his lawyer telling him Craig Pearson had gone public accusing him of stealing the code to the competitive bidding algorithm. A slew of Sherry M messages popped up calling him slut, whore, code thief, pirate. Rey’s friends were behind bars and the messages continued. He rubbed his eyes.
Oh, God. Is this happening to me because I’ve disobeyed your commandments?

Confession first, followed by repentance, then forgiveness. He flipped his Bible to Psalm 51. King David’s words resonated in his heart.

Make me to hear joy and gladness; that the bones which thou hast broken may rejoice.

Hide thy face from my sins, and blot out all mine iniquities.

Create in me a clean heart, O God; and renew a right spirit within me.

Dave bowed his head and asked God to forgive him.

The doorbell rang with nagging insistence. He shut the Bible and took a deep breath. He’d have to come clean with Claire.

“Dave, are you in there?” Claire’s voice sounded from the door. Dave opened it.

“Darling!” Claire kissed him. “The briefcases are in my car. Steve totally understood and agrees to this. Lystra has quite an investment in Shopahol, in addition to our personal investments.”

“I can’t take the money.”

Claire’s eyes opened wide. “It’s insurance. The kidnappers might only be harassing you. You don’t think they actually have your daughter, do you? Dave, are you all right? You look sick.”

He slouched on the sofa. “I have to apologize to you. I’ve been using you.”

“Using me? In what way?” She sat next to him and rubbed his shoulders.

Dave wrung his hands. “The dates, fooling around…”

She put her hand on his forehead and blinked. “What’s going on?”

“I like you, but I’m not in love with you.” Dave heaved his shoulders and rubbed both sides of his face.

“I see.” She pushed away from him and rearranged the chess pieces on the coffee table. “You’re ever so much fun, and so handsome, but I wasn’t looking for undying devotion or a marriage proposal.”

He slumped over his knees. “I’m so sorry. I want to propose to someone, but I don’t know if she’ll have me.”

“Why wouldn’t she? Who is it? The employee who saved the company? Jen or something?”

Dave straightened and looked at Claire. “She knows about you and Melissa.”

She patted his arm. “You leave it to Claire. I’ll call her and explain.”

“No, don’t!” He felt a flood of relief that Claire was so reasonable, but dreaded her explanation to Jen. What would she say?
Your boyfriend’s a whore, but don’t worry, he really cares about you because you’re poor.

Claire stood. “She’ll come around. Let’s get the money. I have to be at a fundraiser for the creative casserole contest at my church.”

He grabbed his keys. “Are you sure? I don’t think it’s right to take your money.”

“Consider it a loan, darling. Besides, your daughter is more important, right?”

He walked with her to the door. “Of course, I don’t know how to thank you.”

“You can start by being happy again. You’ve been so lonely. Of course, if you’re marrying, you can’t be dallying with old flames like me.”

“I’m sorry. We can still be friends?”

“Sure can.” She kissed his cheek and hugged him. “Come to the car with me and load the briefcases into your SUV. You never know when they’ll want the drop.”

* * *

After bidding Claire farewell, Dave called the DNA lab and offered them five thousand dollars to expedite the results. They promised to start the analysis immediately but could not guarantee anything, because the test procedure was complicated and there were mixed samples on the brush Jen gave him.

Rey Custodio’s black cell phone rang. A shiver trickled down Dave’s spine. He turned on the audio recorder of his laptop and answered by speaker.

“Where’s the memory stick?” a female voice said.

“I’m afraid you have the wrong number,” Dave answered.

There was a slight pause. “So, she left you holding the bag. Very well, lamb-punch, ask her to leave the red memory stick in the bus locker, or the next time you see your daughter will be in a body bag.”

“What’s your problem? You keep changing your demands. First you want company stock, then a build and source code, now you want money. Forget the memory stick, okay? She can’t find it, and she doesn’t know what’s on it.”

“You’re being punked, dumb-buns.” The voice smacked her lips as if chewing and blowing bubblegum. “The other guys know nothing. They’re reading the gossip blogs and have you chasing your tail. I know what really went down. And since you’re offering money, be prepared. The next time you hear from me, you’ll also hear your daughter cry.”

She hung up. Dave clicked to end the audio recording. Her voice. Where had he heard it before? Belligerent with a chip on her shoulder, either a slight hint of a southern accent or phony.

His pulse sloshed through his ears. Had he been right to play with the caller? Perhaps Phil was right. No one had Abby, and everyone was punking him.

He called Jen. “Hey, what did you find out?”

“Something horrible’s happened.” Her voice tore through the speaker. “The Walkers’ house is a crime scene and the neighbors said Mr. and Mrs. Walker are in the hospital with concussions. Christy’s room was ransacked, but she’s not there. And she won’t pick up her cell. She only texts me that she’s okay.”

“Crap, that’s not good. Did you call the police?”

“Yes, I did. They’re putting out an all-points search for her. And I called Sammy’s parents. They searched his room and found his browser on a map to Reno.”

“Reno? You think they’re going to get hitched?”

“I don’t know. I’m so scared.” Jen’s voice trailed off. “I’ll die if something happens to her.”

A flood of concern surged through Dave. He wanted to take her in his arms and comfort her. “You’re not going to die. Where are you? I’ll take you to Reno to find her.”

“I’m so scared. She’s with Sammy, Snakehead’s brother.”

“Baby, I’ll be with you every step. Meet you at the rental return, okay?”

“Okay.” Her voice sounded small, like a timid girl.

“Jen? We’ll find her. I promise.”

Twenty minutes later, Dave parked at the rental return. Jen shoved the Victoria’s Secret bag at him with no comment and piled her laptop and backpack in the back of his SUV. She showed him the copy of the birth certificate.

“Patricia Brown?” he said. “That’s Alex’s mother. But how can that be?”

“Don’t you get it?” Jen seemed agitated. “Emily is with Vera, so the girl with Patty Brown is someone else. Maybe she’s Abby!”

His emotions jumped at the possibility, but he couldn’t give way to false hope. He had to focus.