Chapter 19
Bryan Abbey was a man in his mid-thirties with long brown curly hair sweeping across his shoulders as he moved and a thick brown beard. He was big and sturdy, and with his many tattoos, he came off as quite intimidating at a first impression. But as soon as he opened his mouth, that changed completely. It became quickly evident to us that he was worried about his sister and missed her greatly. His dark eyes teared up a few times as we spoke about her, and he grew silent for long periods.
“I just don’t understand why she would leave us like that,” he said as the food had arrived and we dug in. Bryan didn’t touch his at first. His eyes remained on me, and his fingers were fiddling with the edge of his black shirt.
“One day, she was there, and the next…gone. That was three years ago now.”
“You didn’t hear from her at all?” Scott asked.
“She called me a couple of days after she left. She told me she was fine and not to worry. That’s why we never went to the police. She sent my parents a letter, explaining that she was fine and not to look for her. It broke their hearts. She left no address and no number to contact her. When our dad got sick, we had no way of letting her know. And now, it’s too late. He doesn’t remember any of us anymore. We had to place him in a nursing home.”
“That’s awful,” I said.
I shoveled in scrambled eggs like I hadn’t eaten in weeks while pondering this new information, wondering what on earth would make a young woman leave her entire family like that without any way for them to contact her.
Scott looked at me and chuckled. I blushed, feeling embarrassed. His warm gaze was still on me after I had swallowed and washed the eggs down with orange juice. I felt his eyes on me a lot when we were together, and it brought back some feelings that I wasn’t sure I wanted to let back into my heart. I lifted my gaze, and our eyes met again, making my knees go soft.
I closed my eyes briefly to shake it, then looked away.
“And then…now, a couple of weeks ago, the police contacted my mother and told her Sarah was missing. I can’t…and that’s how we find out that she was there all along? In Viera? That’s so close. We could have…” Bryan trailed off as tears once again filled his eyes. I could tell he was struggling to fight them.
“And you have no idea why she left?” I asked.
He shook his head and drank his Pepsi Max. “I have thought about it for so long. Was it her boyfriend? Was it Tommy? Or was it something between her and our parents? But I can’t put the pieces together.”
“And that Tommy, he was good to her? Could she have been running from him?” I asked.
“Tommy Waltman was a great guy. He wouldn’t lay a hand on my sister. He adored her and worshipped the ground she walked on. Sure, they had their issues. He told me later that they didn’t sleep together anymore and that he believed they were drifting apart, but that’s hardly a reason for her just to run off like that. It broke his heart. She didn’t even leave him a note. I felt so bad for him. He was my best friend.”
I looked up. “Was your best friend?”
Bryan nodded. “He died six months after she disappeared. He was struck by a car, right over there, actually.”
Bryan pointed down Park Avenue.
“On the corner down there by the Panera Bread. He was crossing the street when a car rammed into him, then drove off.”
“A hit and run?” I asked.
Bryan nodded. “I know that my sister would have wanted to say goodbye to him at least. But we couldn’t find her, so what can you do?”
I looked at Bryan, narrowing my eyes. “And the driver? The hit and run? Was the person ever found?”
Bryan shook his head. “Somewhere out there is a person with a very guilty conscience. I don’t even know how you could live with yourself after doing something like that. Even if it was an accident, you still killed someone, you know? You can’t just run from something like that.”
I couldn’t argue with that, and as we said goodbye to Bryan later on, it was all I could think about. How do you hit someone with your car and run from it, then go on living with good conscience? It had to be beyond tough—unless you did it on purpose, of course.
Chapter 20
My house was a regular warzone when I got back home. I opened the door and heard babies crying, not one, but two. Alex was screaming in the living room, yelling at his sister, Christine, while the TV was left on, some cartoon blasting loudly while no one watched. I turned it off, then told Alex and Christine to take their fight upstairs.
Matt came toward me, holding Owen on his arm. His white T-shirt had two big yellow stains on the chest; his hair was tousled and had leftover food stuck to it. I would have laughed had he not looked so profoundly destroyed. I heard Angel crying from the kitchen. Matt saw the frustration on my face as I realized my baby wasn’t being cared for.
“I already fed her,” he said, “but I had to take care of Owen too. Angel has been crying all morning.”
I hurried into the kitchen. It looked like a bomb had gone off. Bowls of cereal everywhere, milk and crumbs smeared on the counter. Meanwhile, Angel was in her Maxi-Cosi rocker chair, strapped down, crying her heart out.
“I was gone three hours, Matt,” I said. “I take care of those two babies all day long while you’re at work, and you couldn’t even do three hours?”
“That’s not fair, Eva Rae.”
I exhaled while unstrapping my child and grabbing her in my arms. She was helplessly crying while I rocked her from side-to-side until she finally calmed down. Meanwhile, Owen took over, and Matt tried to calm him, but with no luck. With Angel on my hip, I warmed milk for him and handed Matt the bottle. Owen finally calmed down, and soon Matt could put him down for a nap while I cleaned the kitchen with Angel strapped on my chest in her sling. She cried every time I tried to put her down like she was afraid I would leave her and never come back.
Matt sat on a stool and rubbed his temples. “I don’t think this is going to work, Eva Rae.”
I gave him a look. “What do you mean?”
“We can’t have two infants in the house at the same time. It’s too much. I can only carry one around at a time. I am not made for this.”
“You could have asked Olivia or Christine to help. They would be happy to hold one of them,” I said.
“I told Christine to take care of Alex,” Matt said. “He spilled milk on his pants during breakfast but refused to change them. That’s what they were still arguing about when you came home.”
I grabbed a cloth and wiped up some spilled milk mixed with sugary cereal. The sugar had made it almost stiff. I felt so tired and alone. I knew Matt would always step up and try his best to help me out if I asked him to, but I felt alone in the end.
“Can’t we call the DCF now?” Matt asked. “They can find a foster home for Owen.”
I shook my head. “I can’t do that. I am certain Amy is coming back. I won’t give up on her.”
“Then at least drop whatever it is you’re doing with Scott.”
I threw the wet cloth in the sink. “I am the only one who has to throw everything down, huh? I was gone three hours, Matt. You’re gone all day long, all week long, even sometimes the weekends as well.”