MJ entertained Sofia so I could speak to my mom and my aunt alone. They were alternately furious with me and thankful I was safe. When I’d answered all their questions, I swore them both to secrecy. I didn’t know if any of this was still confidential since the investigation was over, but I told them it was because I didn’t want my mom blabbing about it to her entire fifty-five and over community. I assumed my aunt would be more circumspect, but my admonition left no doubt.
I pulled MJ outside to the patio and told him what I knew. He sat on the foot of the lounge chair with his head hung down and it reminded me of the day Jake had sat in that same spot and confessed his part in Jonah and Amelia’s murder. Was this nightmare finally over? I hoped so.
“Do you think Uncle Alex will ever come back?” he asked.
“I don’t know. The FBI doesn’t seem to think so. If he does, he’ll be in a lot of trouble.”
“And he was just going to go into Witness Protection and never see us again?”
“That’s how Witness Protection works, MJ. It’s the only way to keep people safe. He wanted you and Sofia to have a normal life.”
MJ wiped his runny nose with the back of his hand and blinked back tears. “Yeah, sure. Like our life with our mother is so normal.”
I reached out and squeezed his hand. “You still have me. Even if you’re living with your mother, you know you can always call me. And we’ll still see each other. I’m still coming to all your basketball games. You can’t stop me. And I’m still going to make you dress up for dances and take embarrassing photos of you and talk to you about sex even though you don’t want me to. You know that, right? You’re stuck with me.”
He nodded and the tears spilled out onto his cheeks.
I scooted over so our knees were touching, and we held each other’s hand and cried until we both ran out of tears.
MJ and I talked to Sofia together. We tried to explain what happened while only giving her a sanitized version of events. She seemed more confused than anything, but when we told her we didn’t know if or when she’d see Alex again, she cried too.
The next week passed in a blur. Agent Diaz asked me to come down to his office because he had more questions for me. And I needed to return to the house in LA to pack up our belongings.
I found my bloody shirt on the floor of Sofia’s bedroom where I’d dropped it. I tossed it into the trash then packed up our things, mine first, then the kids’. I left Alex’s bedroom for last. I stared at the black jeans and black shirts hanging in his closet. What was I supposed to do with them? It didn’t feel right to throw them away, but why save them? Alex wasn’t coming back. He knew if he did, he’d be arrested.
I checked my phone incessantly for a voicemail or a text, anything to let me know he was safe. But nothing ever came. I didn’t even know if he was alive anymore. But I couldn’t bring myself to throw away his clothes, so I folded everything and placed it all in the shopping bags I’d brought from home. I didn’t think MJ would want any of it, but I’d give him the option.
After I cleaned out Alex’s closet, I moved to his dresser. I smiled when I found the wallet. It was still in its box. Alex had never used it. But the money clip was gone.
Janelle called while I was driving home.
“Are you sitting down?” she asked.
“Yes, I’m stuck in traffic on the 101. I’ll probably be here for hours. What’s up?”
“I just got off the phone with the kids’ social worker. Maria’s back in jail.”
“What! How the hell did that happen?”
“She got picked up last night. The paramedics Narcan’d her and took her to the hospital, and they called the cops. Her parole officer was already looking for her because she missed a drug test.”
“How is this even possible? She’s been clean for months. She had a job, an apartment. She was getting the kids back.”
Janelle sighed. “Unfortunately, it’s not that uncommon. She’s lucky the paramedics found her when they did. Otherwise, we’d be planning her funeral.”
I sighed too. “Jesus, Janelle. Do the kids know?”
“No, I wanted to tell you first. Can you bring them by my office tomorrow? I’d rather tell them in person than over the phone.”
“Sure. What time? School doesn’t start until next week so we’re free all day.”
“Come by in the morning around ten. Maybe you and I can talk separately first.”
“About?” What other bad news did she have that was so awful she didn’t want to tell me over the phone?
“Well, it’s been over a year since your suicide attempt.”
“And you’re bringing that up now because?” I said testily.
“Because MJ and Sofia will need to stay in foster care longer than we anticipated. I was wondering if you wanted to apply.”
I didn’t answer because I was stunned.
“You’d have to meet with a psychiatrist who’d have to certify you’re mentally stable,” she continued. “Otherwise, it’s just the usual routine. Submit to a home study, complete the training seminar, etcetera. You up for it?”