No Losing Haley Read online

  "Maybe she bought the car from him."

  "But why would his ID be in the car he sold her?" I intervened.

  "Maybe it was his personal car before he sold it to her," Jenkins snapped.

  I gawped Jenkins and then I rolled large grey eyes at Sergeant Willoughby.

  "Jenkins," he coughed. I could hear his wheezing. “I want you to check this Luozo guy out. He could shed some much-needed light”.

  "Remember we've got the high-profile case with the Carbys."

  "Jenkins, we have a fresh new case of kidnapping. We've got to jump on it if we don't want..." Sergeant Willoughby paused and then he took another look at the collage of missing children on the wall.

  "Miss Formidi...Can you provide the police department with the most recent photo of Hayley?"

  I took another glance at the missing-kids pictures on that wallboard, and just the very thought...

  "So let's get to him now then," I blubbered.

  "We'll do that in the morning."

  "In the_ morning, Sergeant Willoughby? Are you people serious?"

  "Calm down,"

  "Calm down, my ass?"

  "Ms. Formidi," Sergeant Willoughby intervened. "We know the pains..."

  "I honestly don't think you know the shit I'm going through, Sergeant?"

  "Miss-Formidi?"

  "Where can I find his car dealership?"

  "We can't allow you to go there, ma'am. It could be dangerous."

  "Am I going to get the address or what?"

  "Ma'am, we're on it."

  On what, my nerves? I said in my mind.

  "We're not going to give you that information. We'll go there in the morning, soon."

  "Listen, cops," I said, softly, stepping backward, away from the officers. "I know in your line of duty you've seen several cases of child abduction..."

  "Ma'am, please relax."

  "But none of you have ever been a momma. And you know what? A momma's not going to make her little girl sleep out in the cold tonight!"

  "We're you going, Momma...Ma'am?" He cleared his throat.

  "He sells cars, right? Well, guess what, I'm going to be his next customer."

  4

  5:39 pm That Evening

  There would be only one place to find Martin if he wasn't at his apartment in Virginia Beach. I had vowed to myself not find myself, or lose myself near an inch of this man who happened to be the father of my only child but I had no choice. So this is why I drove over 40 miles, for nearly an hour, to his ranch in Norfolk.

  "Haley, mommy's coming to get you," I mumbled, pulling up towards the wooden gates of his farm. Apart from his old chevy, which had been park on the left side of the entrance, there was no sign of Martin being there or anyone home for that matter.

  "Martin," I called out, pushing my door open. I climbed out of my car. I moved past the entrance after pushing his heavy wooden gate open.

  "Martin..."

  No answer.

  "Are you there, Martin?"

  "Haley...." I hollered, just hoping to Heavens that Martin was up to some silly joke.

  Knock, Knock, I hammered, hitting my knuckle on the wooden door of his farmhouse.

  "Martin. Answer me! Haley's been taken."

  "For Heaven's sake, Martin!" I slammed, assaulting his front door until my elbows turned red. "They've taken our little girl," I wailed, crouching over and holding my belly.

  “They've taken her, Martin...They've taken our daughter.” I brought up the egg sandwich and cheese I had this morning. My mouth became bitter from my own vomit.

  ..

  "So, she's our daughter now?"

  I turned around... "Martin, how long...have you been standing there?" I trembled, my brown eyes roaming everywhere else so as not to look on this bastard.

  "You look like sh_" he stopped.

  I would have answered him properly but... "that's because Haley had been abducted."

  "Really now, TAYLOR?"

  I stood there for a couple seconds, looking him over, from his disheveled brown hair, his light green eyes, his straight face, to the way he had his arms folded.

  "Are you saying that I'm lying?"

  He took up his fishing rod from off the floor of his verandah as if he was about to walk past me to enter his house.

  "MARTIN!"

  "You're either joking about this or you're a careless ass momma," he shot back, wiping the sweat from his forehead, using the back of his hand.

  "Now you better cut the F_," I stormed, grabbing him by his tee shirt, preventing him from walking away from me. "Martin! Do I look careless?"

  "If only that judge had listened to me."

  "Listen to your ass?"

  "I live a stable life. You don't. You don't even have a stable job, so tell me, TAYLOR, how on earth did that judge award you custody of Haley?"

  I couldn't have held my hand back. SLAP!

  He wiped his hand across his jawbone as if he was feeling for blood where I had sent him that vicious jab, lips folded and his eyes blurred with his own tears. It was that hard of a box I gave him.

  "What you call stable, Martin, living out here in nowhere land when you're not playing rock guitar all over the states?"

  "It did pay the bills and take care of the both of you. Stop acting like you don't remember, Taylor."

  He took those vicious green eyes from off me and focused them on his fishing rod, making me quite wary. I couldn't help seeing the movement of his protruding neck muscles. Knowing Martin...

  "Tell me, Martin, you're not behind this, are you?"

  He looked me in the eyes, quite tight-lipped.

  "Or better yet, Martin, tell me you're behind this. Tell me you know where my...I mean, our daughter is."

  He had his hand soothing the reddened area of his jawbone where I had given him that nasty blow. Couldn't have helped it.

  "Tell me, Martin, where is she?" I beseeched, my tears wasting away like water from a broken pipe.

  "How the shit am I supposed to know, Taylor? How am I supposed to know?"

  "I want my baby back, Martin; I want her back," I bawled, holding on to his cheekbones.

  "Damn it!" I pushed, wiping the taste of his lips from off mine. How could I? How the heck could I?

  I guess I had lost it so badly I even forgot how much I hated this frigger.

  "TAYLOR, you better come back here, you hear me?"

  "Come back here, my foot?" I slammed, pushing my way past his wooden gate.

  "It's time you stop acting stupid, woman!"

  "Go to hell, Martin."

  "You need help, Woman!"

  "I need my daughter."

  "You should have thought about that before allowing her to be snatched from you."

  I stopped, and I turned around. I was feeling so much hatred for Martin to the point where I couldn't answer him; I gave him my middle finger.

  Haley's my only concern right now, not you, I mumbled, pulling the door of my car.

  And why's a DALLARD SPRING shopping card on the seat of my car? I didn't put it there...Don't have one of those cards as a matter of fact.

  5

  I took another look at the card after pushing my untamed chestnut hair from over my eyes. I wiped the sweat from my face as I tried to figure out who the heck would leave a shopping credit card in my car. This must be some sort of a game, I said in my mind, flipping the credit card to its other side.

  "Well, apart from the branch location of the store, there's no name imprinted on it but it seems valid," I said, wiping my thumb along the rigid 12 digits of the credit card.

  Is Martin up to something? I pondered, pushing my gear shifter lever to R. I was about to start the engine but then I looked behind.

  "What's this?" I felt this sharp pain in the side of my head after seeing one of Haley's red shoes on the back seat of my car– the same shoe, of the pair she had on when she was kidnapped.

  I stretched for it. "Haley! Where are you, my baby? Where are you?" I screamed until I
could hardly hear myself; my throat went totally dry. This note then fell from the shoe.

  "What is this?" I unfolded the piece of paper. "You better not make nothing happen to my baby, you hear me?" I shrieked.

  THE NOTE————-

  It's time to change her shoes, mammy. And there's enough cash on there to by her lots of clothes. She'll be needing them.

  —————-

  I took another look at the DALLARD SPRING credit card. "Listen, I don't know who the shit you are and I don't have the simplest clue what kind of game you're playing, but one thing I want you to know, you've taken a little girl from one crazy momma. That crazy momma's going to find your arse because she don't play games!" I slammed, rocking the key in my ignition until my engine jerked to life.

  Thump, Thump.

  It was Martin, outside, banging on my window.

  "Leave me alone, bitch!" I slammed, flooring my gas pedal, moving off in reverse gear, looking nowhere but behind me as I wrapped my tough steering wheel through the rocky curbs of his farm.

  6

  I made this sudden stop in the middle of the road, without much warning. My head thrust toward my windshield; thank goodness I had my seat belts on, but I almost got rammed in the back by this pickup truck, which had to take the far right to avoid the disaster. I heard the screech of its tires as I watched it bouncing around the curb, my hands on my head. I sighed in relief, wiping my salty sweat from my face. The driver didn't bother to stop to argue, much to my luck. I had done this without any form of consideration for the other road users.

  I was actually on my way to the police department but the very thought of how unprogressive things would turn out with Sergeant Willoughby gave me the fricking creeps, so I had to change my course. I forced my steering around in a 360°, making this U-turn. It was time to go shopping, so I headed to Downtown Williamsburg.

  ********

  I pulled in to the parking lot of the large orange painted department store, which had the large D on the top of its 4 story buildings and on all its glassy entrances.

  Maybe that bitch is here, I thought, looking around the life-long stretch car park, which had at least 400 or so cars stacked away attractively like a deck of cards in a couple dozen of arrays.

  If her mercedes is here, it shouldn't be too hard to find because it's old, greasy and has broken rear and corner lamps.

  I alighted from my car, putting the orange color DALLARD SPRING credit card in my handbag.

  "Haley?" My lips trembled and my teeth clattered. I touched her face as though it were real. "Mommy's coming to find you, Haley," I sobbed, running the palm of my hands over the face of my daughter on the poster, which had about 8 other missing children on it. It had been mounted on the bus stand before the entrance of Dallards.

  "Is that all they can do, mount a picture of missing kids on posters?"

  My entire body trembled with a thousand jolts of pain as I tried to detach my fingers from the paper poster. It was as if her eyes were real, the way they seemed to stare me.

  "I miss you, Haley. Tell...me my...baby's alright," I murmured, my cheek stained with my tears, which seemed to flow from a never-ending well.

  I stepped inside the DALLARD SPRING department store after my moment. Therein, everybody seemed suspicious. I somehow felt watched, expected.

  "Hi, welcome to Dallards Spring, my fair lady, I'm Alad, how can I help?"

  It was this guy of Indian descent. His salutation sounded programmed, as if that's what they're told to say to every visitor. His countenance seemed lively and helpful though, like that of an employee who adores his job, or better yet, his customers. Maybe he was an Indian migrant, doing his best not to be sent back home in Asia.

  "I'm...doing some shopping..."

  "For yourself? We have an awesome 35% discount on the latest arrival from Paris. What are you, a size 24?"

  "I'm actually shopping for my daughter, 9..." I stuttered, taking another look around at the persons whom I found suspicious; well, that was everybody, actually.

  "Oh," he smiled, putting on his thick-framed spectacles, "come with me, this side, mademoiselle."

  What an accent? Sounds like the guys in some Euro-Asian flick.

  "By the way," I stopped, "I've got this credit card from your company in the mail."

  "Ah, let me see," he bubbled, taking the DALLARD SPRING card from me. "You need it activated?" he marveled, spinning the credit card around.

  I stuttered a bit, needing him to tell me who was the sender of this strange card. He didn't even bother to wait for my answer before running the card through his machine, which suddenly started flashing, sending a flickering red glare through his spectacles.

  Wrinkles formed immediately between his brows as his eyes popped wide open. He took a deep breath and so did I.

  He took a glance at me after lifting his head up from the flickering screen of his machine. With that look I wasn't feeling like his prized customer anymore; I felt more like a store rat being caught.

  "What is it, Sir? Who's the sender of this card?"

  "Just a minute, ma'am." He took up his handset, giving me a wary look through the corner of his lens.

  "Mister, what's happening?"

  "Just a minute, Ma'am." He turned his back to me, whispering to his superior, I would have presumed, but I did manage to hear that brut say the word 'fraud', and that's when I started making my way from the store.

  "Where' you going ma'am, where you going? You need to stay here!"

  Stay here, my foot?

  I hurriedly made this dash through the exit glass door.

  "Oh shit!" It was the white station wagon Mercedes reversing from the parking lot at the speed of a thief. I really couldn't see through its greasy windshields, who the driver was or if my little Haley was inside, the way it bounced about while dodging the other parked cars. It did hit one or two of them, making metal bumpers fall in a crashing thud on the ground as it did it's 360° spin into forward.

  7

  "Haley! Haley!" I bawled, running after the twirling mercedes.

  "Hey. YOU NEED TO STOP!" I wailed, my throat getting dry again. I was becoming breathless; my chest started to wheeze– must have been the smoke from its tailpipes.

  The car stopped, thanks to this cargo lorry that reversed in its path.

  "That's the car who took my kid!" I stormed, pulling my heavy-breathing self towards it.

  The lorry started pulling away. "DON'T MAKE THAT CAR GET AWAY! I WANT MY HALEY BACK. PLEASE!"

  The lorry then came to a complete halt. The driver opened his door. And then I saw the broken reverse lights of the mercedes, and then the puff of black smoke from its exhaust. The noise of its engine was next. It was racing, in reverse, towards me as if the driver wanted to run me over.

  "Haley, are you in there?" I breathed.

  I started running for my life. It's engine made a deadly roar. The driver obviously meant to kill.

  "HELP!"

  It's engine revved cruelly, sounding like a chainsaw, desperate for blood. I only felt the whiff of it before flinging myself from its path. I then heard the crashing shards of windshields while I lay on the concrete, bruised; it stopped into at least two parked cars.

  "Help me get my kid back. Anyone..."

  The door opened up; I then saw the white sneakers hitting the ground, and then I saw the pair of white stained ankle socks. The driver then stepped outside. It wasn't her. It was this man. He was tall. He wore this slim fit pair of light blue jeans and a plaid shirt that had its sleeves ripped off. He sported clean-shaved hair sides and pinned his dark-gray streaked hair to a bang at the top. Maybe he was in his early 50s.

  "Hey. Where's my daughter?" He moved towards me. Sitting there, I shuffled backward from him. I stealthily stretched my hands, reaching for this brick. He looked at his wrecked mercedes, which had smoke coming from its hood, and then he looked me over as he edged even closer. I could only hear my heart thumping against my chest as I looked him in his
cold brown eyes, through the loose strands of my untamed hair, which covered my face. He looked down at me as though I was some intruder or as if it was all my fault– him ruining his mercedes. My fingers shivered as I tried to get a hold of the brick.

  Sirens suddenly started to wail and flickering red and blue lights distracted us. He looked around and that was when I saw this large spot on his neck, probably a birthmark or something of the sort. He gave me this mean frown, rigid lines forming above his eyes as if to say– I wouldn't be so lucky next time around. We heard the footsteps. I sighed relief. It was the cops. I pushed my unruly hair from over my eyes.

  “There she is.” It was the Asian store clerk pointing me out.

  “Ma'am...”

  “Are you serious? He is the one who stole my... Haley...” I stuttered, looking around to find the man from the merc. Where the shit did he go? No, don't tell me I've lost him.

  They all looked down on me as if I was crazy.

  “My daughter was abducted and thrown in that car,” I pointed, looking over at the wrecked mercedes.

  “You might want to tell us about this,” one of the officers said, pulling out the orange color credit card.

  “There he is!” I shouted, after seeing the driver of the mercedes dashing across the roadway, almost getting himself run over by this burgundy station wagon.

  I pulled myself from off the ground. I brushed the loose debris from off my bruised palms.

  “Ma'am, I think you need to explain this fraudulent store credit card.”

  “Could you be serious, Officer?” I brushed my sweaty nose. “My kid's been abducted and you're asking me about some stupid credit card?”

  “Ma'am, you need to cooperate.”

  “The kidnapper is about to get away, Officer.”

  “Where are you going, Ma'am?”

  “Going to find my kid. I guess I'll have to do this shit alone!”

  “You need to stop. Put your hands in the air, Lady.”

  “Go ahead, shoot. I'm going to get my kid.”

  8

  "This is Inspector Myles from the Virginia police department. We need backup down here in Williamsburg; we have a suspect, a female, messy chestnut hair, setters falling out. She's wearing black leggings and a dark coat. She's potentially dangerous," I heard one of the officers say while I continued going after the mercedes driver. I heard the thud of their boots and then I heard the wailing of sirens.