I follow behind her, taking in the photos littered around the room and covering the walls. Nearly all of them were of Alice.
“That’d be great, thank you,” I call back, walking around the corner and into a cozy retro kitchen. It was if I had stepped back in time to the fifties. From the tile to the appliances, it was a bit eerie.
“Marcus’ doing,” she smiles, noticing my eyes wander about the room. “He wanted to keep this room original. I’ve been meaning to redo it but every time I try...it just feels wrong.”
“It’s lovely,” I take the mug of steaming Joe from her, careful not to burn my mouth with the first sip.
“Tell me Mr. Rivers, how close are you to my daughter?” I nearly choke on my coffee from the bluntness of her question. I contemplate keeping it clinical with her, after all I didn’t owe her an explanation but there was something about the playfulness in her smile that told me she already knew.
“Please call me Hudson.”
“I’m sure she told you something about our family life,” she doesn’t shy away from the subject. “You should believe every word of it too, Alice doesn’t lie. Your being here proves you care for her Hudson, shielding her from the very people who fucked up in a big way not giving her the love and support she needed. If we had maybe we wouldn’t have lost her to that monster.”
I can’t help staring. She wasn’t anything like the woman Alice described. She was reflective, remorseful and absolutely right.
“I’ve had a long time to sit and regret Hudson, a lot of time to figure it all out. I was a piece of shit mother to her,” she looks sad. “The truth is I don’t blame her for not coming home when she escaped. I wouldn’t have. But things are different, I’m different now and I want my daughter back.”
My phone beeps, alerting me to an incoming message. I reach into my pocket to check it. It’s from King.
KC: Call me when you land.
My stomach sinks and clenches at the same time, something isn’t right. I need to make this call now.
“Excuse me,” I place my mug on the counter. “I need to step outside and make a call.”
“Of course,” she nods, carefully watching me. “You can use the back patio through that door,” she points, “if you want.”
I nod wordlessly and step outside. The phone rings once before he answers.
“Hudson,” King’s answers, his voice is cold and detached.
“King,” I pause waiting but he says nothing. “What happened?”
“Where are you?”
“I’m at Jeanette Michaelson’s,” I answer. King was the only one who knew of my plans today.
“I need you to get to the airport. I’ll have a jet waiting for you and her family...”
“What happened?” my voice is firmer than I felt inside.
“How many will be flying with you?”
“Kingston,” I yell into the phone. The door behind me opens, I know Jeanette is listening. I turn and my eyes clash fiercely with hers. “Where’s Alice?”
“She’s gone.”
“What do you mean she’s gone?” My body trembled, my worst fear coming to life. I know she didn’t run. Jeanette’s face is stone but she eyes already know what King isn’t saying.
“It was Erik.”
“You better have that fucking jet ready to roll by the time I get there,” the blood roared in my ears and I wanted to bury my fist in the paneling of Alice’s childhood home but I don’t. “Who was it?”
“Zero.”
“Tell that mother fucker to stay out of sight,” I bite, anger rolls through me making my stomach queasy. “I’m serious King, keep him out of sight. I won’t be responsible for my actions if he isn’t.”
“Get to the airport and we’ll deal with it when you get here.”
“Where did he get her?”
“Your place.”
“Son of a bitch,” I swear, my eyes meeting Jeanette’s questioning ones. I nod and she spins racing into the house. “How long ago?”
“About an hour. Your neighbors saw and heard nothing. We’ve canvassed the entire town.”
“The woods behind the house?”
“One set of footprints in and out, heavier as if he was carrying something on the way out,” he explains and we both know that something was Alice.
“Twenty minutes King,” I hang up the phone, nearly crushing it in my fist. I didn’t care how, I was going to find that sick fuck and tear him limb from limb. I tuck the phone into my pocket and reenter the house, Jeanette’s waiting by the front door, bag in hand. I falter seeing Alice in her stance.