No Losing Haley Read online

  No Losing Haley

  MARK EDWARDS

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  No Losing Haley

  Dirty Game

  Dirtier

  1

  11

  12

  13

  14

  15

  16

  17 | Williamsburg LOCAL PRESS | Extra, Extra,read all about it... | ¶ ANYTHING, EVERYTHING | SERIOUS MOMMA was willing to do anything and risk everything to find her abducted 9-year old little girl.

  EPILOGUE

  THE END

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  Someone's playing a

  Dirty Game

  but this mom's gotta play it

  Dirtier

  to see her little Haley again.

  A NOVEL

  BY MARK EDWARDS

  This fictional novel contains the names of characters, places, events and a storyline that exists only in the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual events, persons alive or not, is a coincidence.

  This publication was created only for entertainment.

  All Rights Reserved. Reproduction, duplication or copying of any part of this publication in any form or by whatever means is strictly prohibited unless consent is given by the author. The images, texts and illustrations remain the intellectual property of the author.

  Copyright 2018 ©

  1

  TAYLOR

  Jasmine Saymes pulled up beside my civic in her shiny white X3, the one her husband, the celebrated Williamsburg surgeon, Thorn Saymes had bought her, close to two months ago, making her the envy of all the school-pickup moms in Southern Williamsburg. 3:09 it was, twenty-one minutes before our kids would come piercing their way through the gate of the Williamsburg Dance Academy. Jasmine was here to pick up her daughter, Fenni, 8, and I was waiting for my pride and joy, Haley, who was going to be 9 in like, days. Our little ballerinas had this end of year concert and I knew how anxious they were to thrill their moms and daddies, well, for those who had daddies.

  "Anyways, it's time to hear the latest gossips and red-herrings in Williamsburg," I giggled, patting down the setters that held my chestnut hair together. I gawped myself through my rearview. It was time to tune into Jasmine Saymes's world of suss, making my 20 or so minutes wait for my daughter, an entertaining one indeed.

  I rolled my Windows down after hearing her trumpet-sounding air horn. That brat was ready to chat, making those beaks of hers clap-clap at the same rate she batted those mascaras.

  "Hi, Tay-lor," she smirked, after rolling her tinted window down. "Word is going around that..."

  Now, here she goes...

  "...That you are dating the dancing instructor," she blushed, her dark mascaras batting away.

  "Me...dating the, who?" I blinked. Since when was my personal life important to anyone. I was the poorest of the moms, a librarian by profession. Nothing I do would matter to any of these folks.

  She looked down in my civic, reeling a strand of dark hair in her pinky finger. "Matt Neilstrong, the instructor."

  "Matt Neilstrong..."

  Jasmine Saymes gawped me over as if I was supposed to know what the heck she was talking about.

  "So, have you heard about Ryan and Pricilla?" I spat out, trying to redirect the focus from my boring personal life.

  "Tay-lor?" she stopped, an eyebrow raised, showing the wrinkles that her makeup had been hiding all along. She then gave me that piercing stare, making me feel like a kid who's being reprimanded for lying.

  I held on to my steering wheel. A glance at the clock in my dark dashboard would only let me know I had a little over 10 minutes to deal with the latest gossip from Jasmine Saymes. This wasn't going to be an entertaining wait as I had anticipated because I was going to be the subject of that gossip.

  Well, yes, I did, go out with Matt Neilstrong over the weekend. Now that I'm thinking about everything, I'm feeling so guilty. Yes, he was my daughter's dancing instructor, but we only kissed, nothing more. Well, it wasn't quite a date; my car was in the shop; he happened to be by the shop and he offered to give me a lift home. And where was Haley? She was staying with her grand-mom, that's Martin's Ma. Martin and I broke up about a little over a year and Matt Neilstrong happened to be the first guy who managed to have caught me off guard since. Wasn't as bad as I thought it would have been. It was hard to finally accept that Martin and I were no longer together, making it ok for me to be in the arms of another man. I should have been kissing somebody else a long time ago, the countless accusations I've gotten. He had preferred being my watch dog than my comforter, obviously. I couldn't have any privacy, thanks to him, going through my phone and all those types of filthy behaviors. The trust in our relationship seemed to have gone on a never-ending vacation, for absolutely no reason. I knew Martin would have hated me even more; I knew he already wanted my neck because I had won custody over Haley.

  I couldn't say how relieved I was after the restraining order was finally handed down to him. That sucker just can't be tamed. I've had it with the bruises from Martin. Enough is enough.

  "TAY-LOR?"

  Jasmine knew how to change her voice to that of a stern 70s school teacher. She was totally the opposite though. Jasmine Saymes, and a school room of kids? Nah. Why doesn't Jasmine leave me alone? I whispered. She was the most encouraging of the moms, telling me that life continues without Martin, but I knew even she would envy me if I got involved with Matt Neilstrong. He was hot, you see– shimmery blue eyes, clean-cut side burns and a Mohawk on top of his faded hair sides. And not to mention those pair of bowed-legs, in those tights, aah. You see, most of the pickup parents here were females so there was kind of a rat race going on.

  "So how was it?"

  "How was, what, Jasmine?"

  She opened the door of her X3. If looks could kill. Her face grew red. She glided her hand along the sharp edges of her hair, pushing it behind her ears. "We all know that you guys kissed," she sprayed.

  You jealous? This I could only say in my mind.

  "Mameee..."

  What a relief? I breathed, after seeing her little one, running toward her X3. Saved by Fenni, I giggled.

  I popped my head out because I knew my energetic little girl would be racing through that gate, anytime now; dance practice was over.

  "Hi, Fenn."

  She hopped into the back seat of her mom's vehicle, pretending I wasn't there. I was so used to it; that spoilt brat.

  I then heard the clatter of Jasmine's diesel engine as her vehicle vibrated after she cranked it to life. "We'll talk tomorrow," she said, looking up through her rear-view as she pulled away.

  Come on, Haley. Time's going and I need to go home early to prepare for that job interview that I have tomorrow, I whispered, looking on at the other moms picking up their little ballerinas.

  "Haley?"

  I held my steering with both hands. "You should be out by now, honey."

  "Hi, Molly."

  She walked past me, clutching her little girl, Phoebe, as if I didn't exist. Maybe she too figured I kissed the dance teacher. Frig her. I took another glance at her, through my rearview as she made her way to her car.

  "Come on, Haley. What's keeping you so long?"

  “Ah, there's my little princess”, I breathed, seeing her coming through the gate, looking all sweaty. Her dark brown hair fuzzier than when I had dropped her off. And her black tee shirt and pants were so messy as if she had been eating too much ice cream.

  I honked my horn as she seemed to have been headed in the wrong direction. Doesn't she know her mom's car? Where the heck is she going?

  I slammed my steering, honking my horn again. "Haley, where you
think you're going? Don't test my faith, little girl!" I fumed. "No time for joking this evening; mommy's got a job interview in the morning. It's hard; haven't worked in like, months and that's the ammunition your dad wants to prove that I'm incapable of taking care of you."

  She was then held by this woman, who had been walking behind her.

  What did I tell this little girl about talking to strangers?

  "Haley???"

  My own daughter didn't even give me the courtesy of a glance.

  "What the F_?" I forced my door opened. Oh shit! Forgot that my security lock was down. I immediately shoved my door open after pulling the lock up.

  She started running, pulling my daughter, whom I've carried for 9 months, behind her. She wore this white blouse, which had been tucked in her light blue jeans. She was tall, not exactly slim.

  "WHO ARE YOU?"

  Her blonde hair flashed over her shoulders as she continued moving away from me.

  "HALEY!!!" By now my throat became dry, my voice hoarse, and I was antagonized by my own shortness of breath.

  "BITCH, WHERE ARE YOU TAKING MY DAUGHTER? You better stop!"

  She didn't. Haley didn't even look behind her.

  She ran across the roadway, tugging my Haley behind. I continued my chase, making my way across the roadway without even looking left or right. I heard the horns; I held my aching head, skipping my way through the cars that dragged along, making them zigzag their way around me.

  "Are you crazy or what, woman?"

  "Help me! She's trying to steal my baby!" I bawled, peeing my black leggings to a renking soak.

  "WHERE ARE YOU GOING WITH MY HALEY?" By now I had my pair of heels in my hand, chasing this kidnapper. I had to get my child, no matter what.

  She moved towards this white station wagon, which was parked at the lonely intersection, not another person or vehicle in sight.

  "WHERE'S SHE TAKING YOU, HALEY? ANSWER ME, HALEY!" I wailed.

  She swiftly opened the rear door, shoving Haley inside, in a hurry.

  "Someone HELP! She's taking my baby girl!"

  "Where are you taking my F_ing child?" I stormed, hurling one of my shoes towards her head, and I missed. Her fingers twitched on her door handle until she finally pulled her door opened. She didn't look behind her; didn't want me to see her flipping face. Now I was yards away from them, yards away from not having my little girl taken away from me.

  At each attempt to crank the engine up the car would only cough, spitting black smoke from its tailpipe; hesitant it was about bringing that hog with my daughter.

  By now I was right at the rear door of the station wagon, pulling the handle. All the inner door locks suddenly plunged into their holes in the door covers, the way she swiftly activated the central locks. The outer door lock came off in my hand. All four Windows were up. I hurled the door handle toward the drivers 'door window, frustrated. It fell in a rattle to the ground without even making a crack in this monster's window. By now my setters started falling out of my hair, turning it into an unruly chestnut frizz.

  "WHAT DID THIS LEOPARD DO TO YOU, HALEY?" She sat in the backseat of the car without even saying a word, so unlike her.

  "BITCH, YOU BETTER GIMMIE BACK MY DAUGHTER!" I stormed, beating that driver's window of hers with the heel of my remaining boot. The car jerked harder as she tried desperately to crank it up. The engine finally banged to life; its entire body jerked. She had the engine revving sounding like a killer chainsaw.

  "HALEY!!!!"

  The kidnapper moved the car backwards even as I clung to the unyielding door lock of her driver's door. I ran along, hitting the windshield until cracks formed. Shit, the heel's broken. I slammed my bare hand on the windshield. “YOU NOT GOING TO LEAVE WITH MY DAUGHTER!” I slammed, hauling myself to a thud on to the hood of this thief's car, sinking it; honestly, I had no time to feel for back pains or anything of the sort. The only pain that tormented me was belly-pain, the sort of pain when a mother is about to lose her child. Can I tell you, that pain was so much worst than the one I felt, bringing her into this world. I knew I had to do what I had to do if I didn't want to see my Haley taken.

  In no time I was flung to her windshield, my legs in the air. Damn, my head. That wicked had jammed her brakes. Now she started moving the car forward, in a zigzag sort of way. I plastered myself to her bonnet, tighter than how spiderman would hold fast to a skyscraper. I stared through the greasy windshield, even as I had my adrenaline riddled body hitched to the winding car, trying to see this bitch's face. Hardly anything I could see apart from the reflection of my horrified face through her grimy windshield.

  “I'm -going -to-f_ing kill you if you don't gimmie my kid back, bitch!” I warned, through teeth that clamped together like those of a wolf when a stranger steps on its tail.

  She smashed that brake again. Oh no!

  I held my head as I was flung from her bonnet, my bruised body rotating like that of a bicycle going downhill. I had blood and pains all over.

  No!

  Lying on my back, on the rough pavement of this forgotten alley, I could have counted the beads on her tires. Her car was edging closer, close enough, I could smell the foul grease of its engine. This dirty woman wanted to run me over.

  “That was mighty close,” I breathed, after barely managing to roll myself from her path. I would have ended up like a frog who didn't make it across a motorway on a rainy night –– squashed.

  “She's–– gone...”

  33_59...

  2

  I immediately pulled my bruised and tattered body from off the ground.

  "Help me! Help! They've taken Haley," I bawled, running through the lonely street. I had pains all over but the one in my head was the most excruciating as though an explosion would happen if I didn't calm myself. The crows above that droned around in the skies, which turned dark grey in a matter of seconds, seemed to be my only company. Only if they could tell where she went. If they only could.

  *****

  " Come on, answer me, Martin," I pleaded, boisterously, slamming the glass cubicle of this phone booth, which was right across from where I almost got ran over.

  I heard his cheesy voicemail.

  I hurriedly inserted another coin and started dialing Martin again, my fingers urgently tapping away like crazy on the keypad of the handset.

  "Answer the phone, Martin. They've taken Haley. They've taken Haley, Martin; they've taken our daughter," I sobbed. "ANSWER THE FRICKING PHONE, MARTIN!"

  Now I only heard the beeping dial tone.

  "Shit!" I hurled the handset into the glass wall of the phone booth, making a crack.

  I then started rubbing my hair, a hand akimbo, still blowing heavy, pondering my next move.

  "I'm going to find you. And I'm gonna take my daughter back, and then I'm going to kill you myself," I blew, picking up a foot of my shoes. And that was when I saw this identification card on the ground.

  Maybe it had been here all along, or maybe it fell from that abductor, or her car, I pondered. It bore this image of this man, who had this straight face, light brown eyes, dark straight hair that flowed down his shoulders and this thick dark mustache.

  "Luozo Gus_ __," I tried to read. The rest of his name was faded out. And looking at the date, this identification card had expired 5 years ago.

  And there seemed to be this dark scratch on the face of his identification card, covering a small area of his neck.

  3

  POLICE DEPARTMENT.

  “Alright, calm down, Miss Formidi," the tall burly sergeant said, brushing his brown hair, which had lines of silver, backward.

  "Are you going to find my daughter, Mr?"

  "Sergeant Wilouby..."

  "Are you going to find her, Sergeant Wilouby?"

  He looked over at the wall to the left of his office, which had a collage of missing children, from as long as the last 19 years. His shoulders dropped after turning around, facing me. I immediately pissed myself at the thought of havin
g my own Haley on that list for a long, long time.

  "Listen, Sergeant. I cannot live a day without my daughter," I forced out. “Trust me, this is not the easiest thing to do.”

  "Our police department is doing everything it can, even as we speak," he assured.

  Convinced, I wasn't. He had this pencil sticking through his grey mustache as if he only wanted me to leave, after making my missing-child report.

  Maybe he figured I wasn't a wealthy Mrs. Jones.

  "So what about the identification card I found?"

  He looked me in the eyes, as if he was becoming disgusted of my being there at the station. I got up off my chair, my hands akimbo, and then I stared him back in the eyes, huffing, ready to tell him off.

  "JENKINS," he called out, on the top of his voice.

  The door of his office opened up but not without a shaky squeak. This other officer walked in, presumably Jenkins. He had brown hair,a straight chiseled face, which had no beard or mustache, and a mole above his lips. "He's Mexican," he said, holding up the identification card, wearing a pair of gloves.

  I probed his face, desperately; I so badly needed him to speak up. "And?" I pressed, walking toward him, arms akimbo.

  He looked at his boss and then he looked at my unruly hair, through the silver frames of his spectacles.

  "Don't I have the right to ask? My daughter is missing, hello?" I bobbed, after wiping the teardrops from my now swollen eyes.

  He looked back at Sergeant Willoughby, "This guy's been living in Virginia for the past decade."

  "What does he do?"

  "He sells cars."

  "What kind of cars?"

  "Old cars, more like a junkyard kind of thingy."

  Sergeant Willoughby looked me over. "What kind of car you said your child's kidnapper was driving again?"

  "This_white Mercedes, a station wagon, broken tail lights...an eighties something model."

  Both officers looked me over.

  "The registration plate said 33-59 something. I couldn't have seen the rest of it."

  "-59 C-A," Jenkins completed, folding his arms, flaunting a proud smirk. "He's clean," he added.