Exposure (12 page)

I
took
Nathaniel and put him in his car seat. He was looking out the window, a stuffed bear in his hand. “Which store are we going to, CJ?” he asked me.

“Trader Joe’s,” I told him, for that was the closest market to my mom’s Brooklyn apartment. My mother had started a health kick, so she tried to only eat organic produce and meat, even though she really couldn’t afford that. I was happy for her, though, trying to be healthier.

He clapped his hands with delight. “Can we go to the 7-11, too, CJ? I would like a blue slushy.”

I was about to shake my head. My mom didn’t like him to have so much sugar. But, then again, what my mom didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her, would it?

“Okay,” I said. “We’ll go there after we go to Trader Joe’s.”

“Can we go now? Please? Please, please, please, please, please?”

“No,” I said, “we’ll go there after Trader Joe’s. Now, don’t give me that look.” He was in the backseat, pouting, I could see.

We got to the market, and I pushed him around in the cart. I had a list of things to get from the grocery store – eggs, milk, produce, frozen dinners, juice, wine. Just basics, really, and I also picked up a jar of sundried tomatoes. Mom really liked those, especially the Trader Joe’s brand. I also picked up a package of cookies. “You can have some of these when we get into the car,” I said. I knew that my mother usually opened up the cookies right there in the store, before she even bought them. I didn’t want to do that, but I could see that Nathaniel was trained to open up the cookies prematurely, because his little hands were grasping the sides of the package and he was pulling at them with all his might.

I snatched them away. “After I pay for them, you may have them.”

His face screwed up, and I could see that he was two seconds away from wailing. “Okay, looks like I need to cut this trip short.” I glanced at my list. There were still about twenty things on there, but Nathaniel was about to throw a fit, so it was time to get the hell out of there.

I went into the line and paid for everything, and then gave Nathaniel a cookie that he was dying for. He smiled angelically as he ate the cookie.
Crisis averted.

I loaded up the car, and then put Nathaniel back in his seat. “You, my little tyke, are very spoiled.”

“I’m not spoiled.”

“Oh, yes you are. I had to cut this trip short because you almost threw a fit in there. I’m going to tell your mom about this.”

Nathaniel said nothing, but continued to eat the cookie. I wasn’t sure if he knew how much trouble he might be in if I told my mom about his spoiled behavior.

I was tempted, sorely tempted, to not stop by the 7-11 to get him his slushy.

But I did stop by there. I figured that Nathaniel really wanted the slushy, and, even though I was perpetuating the spoiled behavior by giving in, I did it anyhow. He was such a precious little boy, so a little treat wouldn’t be out of order.

I unbuckled my seat belt. “Okay, now, Nathaniel, I’ll be right back,” I said to him in the back seat. I turned the key in the ignition. I didn’t want to take him in, and I wouldn’t be five minutes, I knew.

“Don’t turn off the car,” he said. “It’s too hot in here.”

Indeed it was. It was an unseasonably warm April day, and it was muggy out. “I have to turn off the car, Nathaniel, I’m sorry. Listen, I won’t be a second.”

“No,” he said. “It’s hot. Leave the air on.”

Aarrgh. “Okay,” I said. “I’ll leave the car running. Now, I’ll be back in about three minutes.”

At that, I went into the store to get his slushy.

About one minute after I went into the store, somebody came into the store. “Miss, somebody just stole your car.”

I dropped everything right where I stood, and I went out into the parking lot.

The car was gone.

And so was Nathaniel.

I
was
at work the following Monday after the party, and I couldn’t think of anything but the fact that I had to find CJ. I also knew that there still was the possibility that Sophie was going to do some damage by going through with her threats to expose my past, and I had to brace for that as well.

It was very difficult to keep my mind on what was going on, but I muddled through. I had always been able to compartmentalize my job with my private life, so that was a learned skill. But the stress of suddenly not knowing what had happened to the woman that I was really starting to fall for was distracting to say the very least.

And being in charge of a large multi-national corporation was not a job where I could afford to be distracted. So, I focused on what was at hand, which included some meetings with important investors that day, as well as preparing to give testimony to Congress about the importance of loosening some of the restrictions that were in place with regards to trade agreements. These restrictions unnecessarily put a burden on doing business in many of the underserved markets that my company was looking at, and I was supposed to give testimony about the effects of these restrictions and the importance of lifting them.

In other words, I could ill afford to just check out mentally. I had to have the same laser focus that I always had for my position. And I did.

But, every night, after I got off of work, I lurked about. I had to find CJ. I had to know that she was okay. But I was realistic, too. I knew that there was the possibility that I would read in the paper that she was found dead somewhere. I also checked the hospitals around the city, thinking that she might have checked in somewhere.

I knew, however, that if she had checked into a psychiatric facility, I might never know this. The psychiatric facilities were very private with their information, and they would never confirm the names of their patients. This was a good thing for the patients, but a very bad thing for boyfriends like myself who really wanted to see their girlfriends.

That was what I saw myself, at long last. As CJ’s boyfriend. I never wanted to admit that I was feeling that way about her, but, in her absence, I realized the truth.

I was in love with her.

It was undeniable how I was feeling about her. And I stopped trying to lie to myself about it. I was in love with her, and I very badly wanted to see her to tell her this.

But I couldn’t, because she was gone.

E
very night
, I checked the homeless shelters for her, and went to the hospitals. Nobody had any record of her, and I was beginning to feel intensely frustrated about that.

And, of course, I called Scarlett. She always told me that she didn’t know where CJ was, either, and that she was, at that point, very scared for her.

I wondered if Scarlett was telling me the truth, though. Maybe she did know where CJ was, and she just didn’t want to tell me about it. Not that I would blame CJ for telling to Scarlett to lie, if that what was going on. After what I put CJ through, I wouldn’t blame her if she never wanted to see me or talk to me again.

I had ways of checking up on people, of course. Through my company’s security team, I was able to get background information on people. Information that wasn’t available to the general public. That was how I found CJ’s email address, and I also was able to find other information about her. Such as the fact that she graduated from NYU with a degree in photography, and that she was being paid by a tabloid a handsome sum of money every month as an advance. I wanted to know that information about her before I put her up to posing as my girlfriend. I knew that not just any woman would do for that job – she had to not only be broke and really in need of money, but she also had to have impressive education credentials.

CJ fit all those criteria, and it was truly a bonus that I wanted her, sexually, so much.

And now I was in love with her.

Try as I might, even though I had my ways of checking up on people, I couldn’t get any information about her. Even when I showed up to every hospital in the city asking about her, nobody would tell me anything.

I even tried her mother and sister. I found the information about her and her sister through my research. They both told me that they hadn’t talked to CJ in six months and they didn’t plan on doing so anytime soon.

It was an exercise in frustration.

Until I got my insurance bill and found out, definitively, where she went.

M
y heart started
to beat 100 miles a minute.
No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no.
This wasn’t happening. There was no way that this was happening. I was having a horrible nightmare.

I immediately got my cell phone out, and, with shaking hands, I called 911.

“911, what is your emergency?”

“My car was stolen. My little brother was inside the car.”

The voice on the other end was maddeningly calm. “Okay, miss, please give me the make and model of the car and the license number.”

License number? As if I knew that.
“1997 Buick LeSabre. White.”

“Okay, miss, we will issue an Amber Alert for this car immediately. Did you see who took the car?”

“No,” I said, and then looked at the guy who was standing next to me. He was the same guy who had come in to the store to inform me that my car was stolen. “What did those guys look like?” I asked him.

“One guy was around 5’6”, blonde hair, about 130 pounds, wearing a jean jacket and jeans. A t-shirt that had some kind of saying on it. I couldn’t see what it was.”

I relayed the information to the 911 operator and asked the guy what the other guy looked like.

“Around 6’0”, dark hair that was long and in a ponytail. Wearing a Starter jacket and jeans.”

I relayed that info, and then the 911 operator asked me if I could give the phone to the guy. I did so, and the guy nodded his head as he was talking to the 911 operator. “Yes, I can do that,” he said. “I’ll be there in about 30 minutes.”

I got back on the phone, and the operator had informed me that an Amber Alert was issued and not to worry.

“What do you mean, don’t worry?” I asked her. “My little brother is gone. He’s in the clutches of these two criminals. How can I not worry?”

The operator had no words for that.

I got off the phone, and I saw how badly I was shaking. I puked on the sidewalk, and the guy who was talking to the operator for me put his arm around me. “I’m going down to the police station to talk to the sketch artist. Would you like to come with me?”

I nodded my head and said nothing.

W
e drove
along in silence
to the police station. I, of course, was thinking the absolute worst. My mother had been texting me constantly. I guessed that she hadn’t yet heard the Amber Alert, because she kept asking me what was taking so long.

I didn’t answer the texts, of course. I had no idea how to tell her what had happened. I certainly wasn’t going to tell her by text.

We got to the police station, and the guy who drove me there gave his statement and met with the sketch artist. He had told me his name, but I had already forgotten it. Which wasn’t exactly out of character for me – I usually forgot people’s names right after having learned them – but there was no way that I had heard anything that this poor guy had said to me in the car.

I couldn’t get out of my head. I was in shock and I was panicking at the same time. I couldn’t stop thinking the worst. I was bracing myself for it.

At some point, my mom came down to the police station. I guessed that the police had finally called her, and she was beyond frantic. “What happened, what happened?” she asked, and I couldn’t speak. I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. And then I started to bawl.

“I left him the car for only a moment, mom,” I said, knowing that she had done the same thing on many occasions. I figured that, since she had done the same thing – she even left the car running, with Nathaniel inside, on more than one occasion – she would instantly forgive me. She had to understand that I didn’t mean for this to happen. She had to know that I had intended for the trip inside the 7-11 to only take less than five minutes. It wasn’t like I went into a shopping mall to go shopping for hours while I left him in the car.

I went to her, hoping that she would hug me and tell me that everything would be alright.

She didn’t. She refused to touch me or speak to me. Instead, she directly addressed the police woman. “What’s being done to find my son?” she demanded.

“Our patrol cars are looking for the car, ma’am, and there’s an Amber Alert. We were able to find the license plate number for the car, so there’s a definitive description out to the public. Don’t worry, ma’am, we’ll find your son.”

She was shaking her head rapidly. “They won’t hurt him, will they? I mean the carjackers. They just want the car, right? They’ll leave the car by the side of the road with him in the car, won’t they? He’ll be safe, won’t he?”

The police woman wasn’t saying anything at first. And then she said “I don’t want to speculate, ma’am. It is true that in most cases the criminals do not want to hurt any passengers. But I do not want to tell you that this will be the case here. We just have to wait for the car to be recovered.”

And so began the longest six hours of my life. I stayed there at the police station the entire time. I wasn’t going to leave until somebody told me what had happened. I wasn’t going anywhere until somebody came and told me that Nathaniel was safe. I had to see him. I had to hold him. I had to hear his laughter. I would have given anything at all to just hear his whine when he didn’t get what he wanted.

It was funny what went through my mind at that point. Of course, I was going through all the “what ifs?” What if my mom didn’t lose her keys? I would have left without Nathaniel, because I didn’t want to wake him. What if I just would have opened up the cookie package in Trader Joe’s and kept on shopping? I would have gotten to 7-11 about a half hour later than I did, and I would have avoided these carjackers completely. What if I wasn’t so stupid at 7-11, and I would have taken Nathaniel in with me? What if I would have given into Nathaniel in the car, and I went to 7-11 first?

There seemed to be a thousand tiny decisions and incidents that could have turned either way, and if just one of those decisions and incidents would have gone a different way, Nathaniel would be safe right at that moment.

What I wouldn’t have given for the chance to have a do-over. To have a time machine and gone back and changed just one thing.

Just one little thing.

That was all that I was obsessing about. I wanted to go back in time. I was desperate to go back in time. And then I wanted to trade places with him.

I silently prayed to a God that I didn’t quite believe in to go ahead and take me. If Nathaniel would be found safe, I would gladly give my life. I remembered seeing a
Twilight Zone
about that, where the father gave his life so that his son, over in Vietnam, could live. “Please, God, please take me. Give him back. Make him safe. If he’s safe, I’ll gladly give my life. Please.”

Around midnight, came the news.

The news that nobody ever wanted to hear.

My worst nightmare had finally come true.