The Eternal Engagement (16 page)

CHAPTER 37

Mona

 

 

Soon as Mona heard Steven's SUV pull out of the driveway, she rocked back and forth in the chair. Each time she leaned forward, she pushed harder. “Aw, shit,” she said, almost tilting over on her face. Quickly she leaned back, steadied herself, then started over.

Balancing on her two feet that were taped at the ankles, Mona hopped toward the door as though she were on a pogo stick. Three hops and she noticed Steven had left the black bag on the coffee table. If he needed what was in that bag, he'd be back real soon. That meant she had to hurry.

She jumped twelve inches at a time. If she could make it to the porch, she prayed Mama V would be standing on hers.

Mona heard footsteps coming up their front stairs. Her heart pounded, praying Steven wouldn't catch her trying to escape. God only knew what he'd do. She glanced around, started hopping backward fast as she could trying not to fall over. Trying to get back to the indentions in the carpet where her chair was.

A familiar voice said, “I'd better close Steven's door for him.”

Frantically, Mona rocked until she was on her feet. Hopped three times. She wanted to scream, “Wait! Help! Mama V!” but she couldn't.

As the door was closing, Mona hurled her body and the chair onto the coffee table. Risking hurting herself was her only hope of being rescued.

The door slowly opened. Mama V peeped inside. “Chile, what is going on in here?” She hurried to Mona, tugged at the tape on Mona's mouth. “Wait here,” she said. “This doesn't make any sense.” After sitting Mona up, Mama V headed out the door.

Mona screamed, “Don't leave me!” But she couldn't separate her lips. Her words were muffled desperation drowning in her throat. Mama V was already out the door.

“Mama V, please don't call the police.” Tears streamed down Mona's face. If the police showed up, she and Steven were going to jail. Deservingly so. But was it really her fault she'd married a murderer?

Mona's biggest fear was Steven returning before she got out of his hellhole. Nothing in the house had changed over the last six months, except her photo on the wall was mutilated.

Mama V rushed in carrying a bottle of cooking oil and scissors. She doused Mona's mouth with oil. She massaged the oil under the edges, then cut the thick gray tape binding Mona's ankles, wrists, and body. She saturated the tape stuck to Mona's mouth with more oil. Mona worked one side of the tape, loosening the edges. Mama V gradually lifted the other side.

The adhesive lifting from her delicate skin was painful. She didn't care. All Mona wanted to do was get out.

Finally, her mouth was free. Mama V reached for her wrists.

“I've gotta go. Thank you so much, Mama V. I love you.”

“Mama V has done a lot of things to help people, chile. But I ain't never seen no foolishness like this. A man tying up his wife. Steven needs his ass whupped, but I know how to deal with his kind. Wait until—”

Mona frantically shook her head. “Don't get involved. Can you please give me a ride to my house?” Mona picked up her purse. That was all she needed. She stopped, picked up the black bag. She smiled. She had another piece of evidence he needed more than her.

“Give me a minute,” Mona said, rushing into the garage. She grabbed a black plastic bag, shoved the stapler gun inside, placed the bag on the coffee table, then rushed out of the house.

CHAPTER 38

Katherine

 

 

K
atherine sat in her mother's living room. She felt good watching Jeremiah suited up in his football uniform. He was so handsome. But if her son earned one scholarship to college, he was going to college. The way he ran that ball down the field constantly reminded her of Lincoln. Whenever Lincoln did get a chance to see Jeremiah play, she knew he'd be proud of his son.

Did she make the right decision to help Lincoln? She hadn't heard from him since she'd wired him the money two days ago. No “Thank you, Katherine.” Or “I got it.” And although she hadn't seen him yet, at least she knew he was alive.

Eventually he'd meet his son. She'd placed a framed eight-by-ten photo of Lincoln in Jeremiah's room when her son turned two. The next day, her mother removed the picture, saying, “Our baby doesn't need to know his father until Lincoln is ready to be a father.” She'd disagreed with her mother and put the picture back by her son's bedside.

Another photo of Lincoln hung outside her son's bedroom door. Each time Jeremiah pointed at a picture of Lincoln, he'd say, “That's
my
dad.” Hopefully Lincoln would come home soon so Jeremiah could meet the man behind the uniform and hear all about how his daddy served his country.

Covering the national news continuously increased her compassion not just for Lincoln but for all vets, especially those who had seen the worst war had to offer, then came home and literally slept on American soil.

Desperately she wanted to hug Lincoln. Thank him for whatever he'd done while serving their country. Maybe she'd take a trip to Seattle, try to find him. Not tell her mom where she was going but ask her mom to keep Jeremiah for a few days. Makeda could help out if she wasn't busy studying for college finals.

“Come on, Mom, I want to get to the game early,” Jeremiah said, tugging her hand.

Katherine sat on the sofa. She didn't feel like moving. Her mind said get up but her body protested. She was tired. Tired of going, and going, and going. Tired of pretending to always be happy so her child wouldn't see her sad. Tired of acting like they had lots of money when month to month she didn't know how she'd pay his tuition.

“Give Mama a minute, sweetheart. Go get your grandmother.”

“She's already in the car waiting for us. This is our big Thanksgiving Day game. If I'm late, I won't start. Coach will bench me, and Makeda won't see me score the touchdown I promised her.” His brown eyes pleaded more than his words.

Makeda had proven to be heaven sent. She chaperoned Jeremiah and his friends on Friday nights. The ten thousand–dollar check Steven told Mrs. Cunningham to give her was also a blessing.

Katherine wanted to tell her mom, “Lincoln sent a partial child support payment,” so her mother wouldn't hate him so much. After all her mother had done to support Jeremiah, Katherine couldn't tell that lie.

Being a lead anchorwoman was great, but the salary increases were barely enough to cover her expenses. The money Steven had given her would help pay down her student loans. Another one hundred twenty thousand dollars to go and she'd almost be debt free.

The private school she'd selected for Jeremiah was more than she could comfortably afford. If she didn't get approved for a grant before Christmas, she'd have to find a sponsor for the next school year or her son would miss out on great educational and athletic opportunities.

“Mommy, please, come on.”

Lost in her thoughts she'd forgotten he was standing by the doorway watching her. He tugged her hand again. She pulled away.

“Mommy promises. You're not going to be late, baby. Go get in the car. I'll be out in ten minutes tops.”

Katherine waited until Jeremiah was outside. He slammed the screen door in protest. Normally she'd discipline him for that, but he had feelings too. She picked up the cordless. Dialed his number. Immediately she got his voice mail. That was a sign she shouldn't have called him. She placed the phone on the charger. Tears blurred her vision.

Lord, what am I doing? I can't take on a second job. I know You'll make a way.
The extra money in her account felt good, but with so many unpaid bills it was already spent.

Putting on her happy face, she opened the screen, then closed the front door. The home phone rang. Quickly she shoved open the door, ran inside, and answered, “Hello.” Without looking at the caller ID, she hoped it was him calling her back.

“Hey, Katherine. It's me, Lincoln.”

Though she was happy to hear his voice, that wasn't whom she'd called. “Hi” was all she got out. Tears streamed down her cheeks. She was overjoyed to hear his voice again.

Why was she so damn happy to hear his voice? The last time they'd spoken, her mother told her to demand he pay the back child support. When Lincoln tried to explain, her mother hung up the phone, saying, “And you'd better not call him back.”

Southern parents believed if their children lived under their roof, no matter what their age, they had to live by their rules. The princess-cut diamond earrings Steven had given her were in her jewelry box. “A man that gives a woman an expensive gift like that is after one thing and one thing only. And I'm not raising any more babies,” her mom had said. Katherine had to make more money so she could move out as soon as possible.

“I'm sorry I didn't call sooner. I called to say thanks for helping me out. I promise I'll pay you back every penny. I called because I'm ready to see my son.”

As much as she loved Lincoln, Katherine shook her head. “We're struggling to come up with enough money to take care of Jeremiah. I mean, I have student loans I've got to pay. I'm still living at home with my mom. It's hard.” She cried, staring at the gold band on her ring finger.

“I know your mom doesn't like me, but you can't be doing that bad. You just sent me two grand.”

She understood how he could conclude that. “But you have no idea where it came from.”

“You're right. Look, I'm trying real hard to get myself together. I'm on a good track now, and seeing my son will give me a reason to fight harder for something good. I might have a sponsor to help me.”

“Lincoln, we need a sponsor. We need you to help us. You owe us almost fifty thousand dollars.”

Katherine hated that she sounded like her mom, but if she had what he owed her she wouldn't have to struggle. Money wasn't what she wanted from Lincoln most. She wanted his love, tenderness, and compassion. She wanted Jeremiah to have a real father, not a photo dad. She wanted them to become a family. She wanted to be Mrs. Katherine Lincoln. And damnit she wanted to feel him inside of her again. She was a young woman with unfulfilled womanly needs. Casual dating and casual sex was fun, but that wasn't her preference.

“Is that all I'm good for? Money?”

Katherine frowned. Her voice escalated. “Don't go there with me! I just sent you”—she paused, looked over her shoulder to make sure her mom wasn't standing in the doorway—“two thousand dollars that I could've used for our son's tuition. I didn't ask you any questions. I didn't tell you to join the military, and I sure as hell didn't expect you to walk away and never send me a letter or call me or nothing. You didn't even call to find out if I was pregnant!”

She could've gone on and on with a long list of what was truly Lincoln's fault, but what would that prove. He knew he was an absentee dad.

“You're right. I'm sorry, Katherine. I made a big mistake. I've made a lot of mistakes. Forgive me. I promise I'll pay you back and I'll start sending you money for Jeremiah soon. Thanks to you, I didn't have to sleep on the street last night. I got me a room at the Warwick until my apartment is available on the first. Once I'm situated, then can I see my—”

“Momma, come on! You promised. I'm going to be late!” Jeremiah yelled from the doorway.

“Katherine, is that him? Put my son on the phone. Let me say—”

She whispered, “I can't just spring this on Jeremiah. I've got the weekend off. I'll try to come to Seattle to see you tomorrow. We can discuss it then. We've got to go. Bye.”

Katherine typed the name of Lincoln's hotel and the phone number registered on her cordless in her cell. She dried her tears, then smiled wide at her son. “I love you, baby.” She kissed Jeremiah, then hugged him tight. “Come on here, boy! Let's go get this W!”

She'd find a way to continue providing for her son without Lincoln's help. And he could see his son. But first she had to look Lincoln in his eyes and ask a long list of “Why's.”

CHAPTER 39

Steven

 

N
o corpse.

No crime.

No charge.

No conviction.

How long would it take for Davis's body to decompose? How long would it take for any possible DNA matches to vanish?

Steven wondered how many missing persons were never found. His plan was more clever than Mona would imagine. He'd pried loose a boarded window at the back of an abandoned gray house that had been on the market for over a year. The
FOR SALE
sign was weather-beaten and leaning to the side. He'd dumped Davis's body and the rug inside, then resealed the wooden frame.

Maybe he'd make an offer the Realtor was sure to accept, record the deed in Mona's maiden name, have the property gated off, then have
NO TRESPASSING
signs nailed to the fence.

Dragging his feet, he bypassed Ms. Velma as she waved. “Hi, Steven!”

He was too tired to respond. Entering his house, Steven shook his head. He kicked the chair to the floor. “Fuck! I knew I shouldn't have left her ass here.”

Oil and shit was all over his coffee table. The duct tape that should've kept Mona's mouth shut was on the floor.

Running through his house he shouted, “Mona!” knowing she was gone. What he didn't know was how long. “Mona! Where the hell are you?”

Steven went outside. Stared at Ms. Velma. “Where'd she go?”

“Where'd who go?”

“So you didn't see Mona leave my house?” Steven stomped down his stairs, stood in his front yard, kept staring at his next-door neighbor.

“Nope. Didn't see her come back home.”

“You sure?”

“Yep. Ain't seen her in six months,” Ms. Velma said, leaning on her column. “The turkey'll be done by four. Come on over and watch me carve it while you tell Mama what you're thankful for,” Ms. Velma said, going in her house.

Liar.
Ms. Velma knew something. And she wasn't his damn mama!

Steven went inside, slammed his door. He picked up the black bag on his coffee table. Ripping open the plastic he yelled, “What the fuck is this?”

The staple gun from his toolshed was inside and his gun was missing.

“All right, have it your way,” he said.

Steven went into the kitchen, got a bottle of whiskey, opened it where he stood. He gulped half the contents, then picked up his cell phone. This time when he dialed, he wasn't thinking about calling Mona, and he wasn't phoning his mom.

“Hello, I'd like to terminate one of my numbers,” he told the customer service assistant. “Yes, the number is 334 . . .” He continued giving Mona's number. Now she'd have to get a new number.

“You do understand once we deactivate the number you can reactivate that same number later. You don't have to get a new one unless your time expires. May I suggest that if you're not sure, you temporarily suspend the number? That way it's easier to reactivate it. Or you can call back and terminate it later.”

He didn't want to hear all that. “Terminate it now!”

Ending that call, he stood in the same spot in his kitchen, downed the other half bottle of whiskey, then made another call.

A woman answered, “Bakersfield Police Department.”

“Yes, I'd like to report a stolen vehicle.”