Chapter 22

Evan

Evan casually strolled from the conference room down the corridor leading back to his office. He adjusted the knot in his tie and glanced at his wristwatch. He sighed dejectedly, discovering that he had fewer minutes until his next meeting than he had hoped. He was going to have to have a talk with Morris, their quality assurance officer, about his long-windedness. Nothing like wasting an hour while a guy pontificated on the merits of coated versus uncoated food packaging. Evan was sure half of those assembled at the conference table had started to fall asleep midway through Morris’s presentation.

Evan looked up to find his secretary, Adrienne, waving her arms wildly, making him pause.

He frowned quizzically and raised his hands in a “What’s wrong?” gesture.

“Sir! Sir, you have a message from your brother,” Adrienne said as he approached. Her petite body almost jittered with barely contained anxiety. “He’s been trying to reach you, but you weren’t answering your phone.”

“He called me?” Evan instantly reached his hand inside his suit jacket to check the inner pocket. “Shit,” he muttered. He had forgotten to bring his iPhone with him. “Is everything okay? What did Terrence say?”

“He said it was an emergency, but he wouldn’t go into detail.” She shrugged helplessly.

An emergency?

What possibly could have happened? Evan had spoken to Terrence only yesterday and his little brother had seemed almost euphoric.

“I’ve got good news and I’ve got bad news, Ev,” Terrence had said over the phone. “Which do you want to hear first?”

“Well, it can’t be that bad of news judging from how happy you sound. But I guess I’ll start with the good news first. What is it?”

“That woman dropped her lawsuit against me,” Terrence had said, making Evan almost leap out of his desk chair.

“What? Are you serious! When did you find that out?”

“Yesterday. She hasn’t withdrawn it officially yet, but she pretty much said she doesn’t give a shit what Dante does. She’s done. She apologized and everything.”

“That’s amazing, Terry!” He had been grinning from ear to ear. “Well, I guess you can go ahead with the bad news since nothing could possibly compete with that.”

“Well, it’s not really bad news . . . though you might think it is.”

Evan had squinted. “Huh? What does that mean?”

“I told . . .” Terrence had taken a deep breath. “I told C. J. that I was in love with her.”

Evan had stilled.

“Look, I know how you . . . how you feel about her. I considered all of that. I confronted her with what you told me, Ev, and she explained everything. She said a lot more than I expected, honestly. I know that you’re suspicious of her, but I’m telling you that you’ve got no reason to be. She doesn’t mean us any harm.”

Evan had remained silent.

“I love her. I admit that it snuck up on me, but I’ve got some really heavy feelings for her, man. I’ve fallen hard for this girl. It scares the shit out of me, but it is what it is, right?”

Evan had leaned back in his chair and sighed. “I just don’t want you to get hurt, Terry.”

“And I won’t. I told you, I trust her.”

“Well”—Evan had pursed his lips—“if you trust her, I guess I trust her, too,” he had said grudgingly.

“Good! I’m glad to hear it, Ev!”

Evan now gazed at his assistant in bemusement. So how had Terrence gone from declarations of love to calling with an emergency?

“Your brother wouldn’t give me more information,” Adrienne continued. “He sounded really flustered. He just said to call him back as soon as you can. I’m . . . I’m so sorry, Mr. Murdoch. I’m sorry I can’t be more helpful.”

Evan shook his head. “It’s all right. I’ll give him a call back and find out what’s going on.”

Evan quickly strode into his office and grabbed his cell phone from his desk. He saw that Terrence had called him no less than half a dozen times. “What the hell is going on?” Evan muttered as he pressed the button on the glass screen to call his brother back.

“Ev!” Terrence shouted, picking up after the first ring. “Shit! Where the hell have you been, man?”

“Sorry, I was in a meeting all morning and I forgot to take my phone with me. What’s wrong? What happened?”

“Paulette’s at Chesterton General. I’m on my way to the hospital now. I had to catch a cab since I still feel weird driving.”

The blood drained from Evan’s head. He gripped the edge of his desk to steady himself. He suddenly got a flashback to that dreaded night when the police had called his home to tell him that Terrence had been in a car crash.

“What . . . what do you mean, she’s at the hospital?” he shouted, his throat tightening with fright. “What’s wrong? Did she have an accident?”

“No, nothing like that. Tony said she collapsed in some grocery store and the ambulance rushed her to the emergency room and then they took her to the maternity ward. I said, ‘Why a goddamn maternity ward? She’s not pregnant! ’ Tony said, according to the doctor, she’s almost eight months along. Eight fucking months, Ev!”

Evan was starting to feel faint. He fell back into his desk chair. “What?”

“Yeah, my thoughts exactly! Our sister has been pregnant this whole time and she didn’t tell anybody, not even her damn husband! I knew she was acting strange, that she was hiding something, but I had no idea it was this bad.”

“Oh Jesus,” Evan murmured just as his phone buzzed again. He glanced down at the screen and saw that Leila was on the other line. “Look, Terry, that’s Lee calling me. Let me talk to her. We’ll meet you at the hospital, all right?”

“Okay, bye,” Terrence replied before hanging up.

Evan switched to the other line. “Lee?”

“Oh Evan! Thank God I caught you,” Leila said, sounding like she was almost in tears. “I was hoping you were at your desk.”

“If this is about Paulette, I already know.”

Leila paused. “What about Paulette?”

“She was rushed to the hospital and is going into delivery. I just got off the phone with Terry. He said he’s on his way to Chesterton General Hospital. Tony’s already there.”

“Paulette’s about to deliver?” Leila sounded stunned. “Oh my . . . I didn’t know! Oh God! It’s way too early. The baby isn’t due for several more weeks!”

Now Evan paused, shocked with what he was hearing. “Wait. You knew she was pregnant? She told you?”

Leila released a loud, impatient breath. “Yes, but she asked me not to tell you guys! I told her I couldn’t keep yet another damn secret for her . . . that I’d give her some time to tell Tony, to do it her way first before I told everyone else. I guess she never did. But, Ev, that’s not why I called. I—”

“What the hell, Lee!” he exploded. “Why wouldn’t you tell me something like this? She could’ve—”

“Evan, please don’t yell at me,” Leila pled. He finally noticed that she was crying. “I can’t take it right now. Not with what’s happening. I don’t know what to do!”

“What do you mean? What happened?”

“Izzy’s missing. I went to her school, b-but they don’t know anything. They said no one’s seen her since before lunch period and they’ve checked the entire school . . . every room, every locker. I’ve called the little cell phone I gave Izzy for emergencies, but she’s not answering. I don’t . . . I don’t know where she is. What if something really bad has happened to her?” She sobbed. “Please, I need you here. Come home!”

“I’m on my way,” he said before hanging up his phone. He then leapt from his chair and raced toward his office door.

 

Evan arrived at Murdoch Mansion soon after three o’clock to find two deputies standing in the center of his three-story foyer, the beeps and static from the deputies’ walkie-talkies echoing off the foyer’s coffered ceiling. He knew that about a dozen more deputies were checking the mansion grounds and driving around town searching for Isabel. As Bill drove Evan from Murdoch Conglomerated Headquarters in Arlington back home to Chesterton—breaking several speed limits along the way, Evan had made a phone call to Chesterton’s sheriff, asking him to pull out all his resources to find the missing little girl. Evan wasn’t one to use the heavyweight of his family’s reputation or the millions of dollars the Murdochs had invested in Chesterton to his advantage, but this time, he was willing to make an exception.

“Of course, Mr. Murdoch,” the sheriff had assured him. “We’re doing everything we can. We’re canvassing the school and everything within town limits. We’re putting out an Amber Alert. We’re bringing the state police onboard to help in the search.”

“Good to hear it,” Evan had said. “And I’ll be able to call you personally for updates?”

“Of course, Mr. Murdoch. You can reach me on my cell at any time of the day. Don’t hesitate to call me.”

But Evan knew ultimately that no amount of ass-kissing from the sheriff could ensure that Isabel would be found. Each hour that passed statistically lowered the chance that the cops would find her. Evan’s stomach turned as he considered the many things that could have happened to Isabel. Had she run away? Was she abducted from the school playground by some deranged sexual predator? Was she still alive?

The housekeeper kept her head bowed as Evan stepped through the front door. When he did, the deputies turned to look at him. Leila, who had been sitting on one of the foyer’s padded benches with her mother, Diane, at her side, suddenly looked up. Her eyes were puffy and almost entirely red. She wiped at her runny nose with a Kleenex and shakily rose to her feet.

“Ev, I-I . . . I can’t . . .”

She broke down into sobs before she could finish whatever she was about to say, and Evan instantly reached for her. She collapsed against his shoulder and wrapped her arms around his neck, clinging to him as she cried.

“They’re going to find our baby,” Diane assured over the sound of Leila’s strangled sobs. Tears were in the older woman’s eyes, too. Her wrinkled cheeks were wet. “They’re going to find Izzy. Don’t worry, honey.”

But Diane’s promise seemed hollow. From what Evan understood after talking to the sheriff, the police weren’t sure where to start in their search for Isabel. None of Isabel’s classmates or teachers had seen her leave the school and none of the neighbors or businesses surrounding the elementary reported noticing a little girl wandering along the sidewalks. It was like she had just . . . vanished.

“It’s all my fault,” Leila moaned, finally calming down enough to articulate words. “She was so unhappy, Evan. II pushed her away! I made her feel like she wasn’t wanted. No wonder she—”

“Shsssh,” he whispered, rubbing her back. “You love Izzy and she knows that. You didn’t push her away. That’s ridiculous! I’m not letting you blame yourself for this.”

“Are you Isabel’s father, sir?” one of the deputies asked, squinting his green eyes at Evan.

Evan slowly shook his head. “No, I’m her . . . her stepfather—sort of. Her mother and I are engaged.”

Though I’m still married to someone else, who refuses to give me a divorce, Evan thought but figured it better not to add that part.

“Has anyone spoken to her actual father?” the other deputy inquired. He was the shorter of the two and slighter in build. “We’d like to interview him, too, if that’s possible.”

“He’s in California,” Leila said, pulling away from Evan and dabbing at her eyes with her makeup-stained Kleenex. “He lives on the other side of the country. He wouldn’t know anything about this.”

Evan narrowed his eyes, wondering if that were true. If Isabel had indeed run away, her father would be the first person whom she would likely run to.

“I was hoping we’d find her before I had to tell him she was missing, since he’ll . . .” Leila took a quivering breath. She wrapped her arms around herself and dropped her eyes to the floor. “He’ll probably blame me.”

“We should call him anyway,” Evan said. “Maybe Isabel said something to him that might help us find her.”

Leila raised her eyes and frowned at Evan. “You really think so?”

“At this point, anything is worth a try.”

“He’s right,” Diane said, rising to her feet. “Call him, Lee. Call him now.”

 

A few minutes later they all sat in the adjoining study in a semicircle around Leila, who sat at the oversized mahogany desk, dialing Brad’s number on the desk phone.

Evan gazed around him. The room was a holdover from when his father, George, had been owner of Murdoch Mansion. Evan had never gotten a chance to redecorate in here, something he now regretted. The study was all wood paneling, green sconces, brass detailing, and thick velvet curtains that kept out most of the natural light. Leila had had to turn on a Tiffany lamp on the desk to be able to see the phone’s dial pad because it was so dark. The room radiated no warmth and looked like it could be the setting of some gloomy Gothic novel.

This is not a place where you want to be when your daughter is missing, Evan thought. All this gloom could make a person downright suicidal.

One of the deputies stood off to the side as they waited, listening to Brad’s line ring over and over again on the phone’s speaker. Leila was wringing her hands and bouncing on the balls of her feet. Evan reached out and grabbed her hands, making her eyes dart up to look at him in surprise.

“It’ll be okay,” he mouthed.

She nodded, though she still looked nervous.

“Hello?” a man answered. Booming music played in the background.

When Evan heard Brad’s voice, his jaw tightened. He hadn’t spoken to Brad in years, not since he was engaged to Leila. Whenever she had conversations with her ex-husband, which often would devolve into arguments, Evan would make it a habit to be out of the room. He didn’t want to talk or listen to what that man had to say. He had never liked him, from the moment Leila had introduced him during a summer break from college. Time hadn’t lessened Evan’s dislike for Bradley Hawkins at all.

“Hey, Lee,” Brad said, shouting over the music, “I’m driving and traffic is a real bitch. Can you call me back later?”

“No, Brad, I can’t call you back,” Leila said. “I need to talk to you now.”

“If this is about your child support, I told you my check is going to be a little late this month since I’m short on cash. It’s not like you need the fucking money anyway!” A car horn suddenly blared, making Evan wince. “Hey, watch it! Did you get your goddamn driver’s license yesterday?” Brad yelled.

“This isn’t about the check!” she shouted with annoyance, then closed her eyes. “Look, there’s no easy way to say this. But . . . but Izzy is missing.”

The music faded a little like Brad had turned down the volume. “She’s missing, huh?”

Evan squinted, confused by Brad’s tone. The man didn’t sound alarmed or the least bit surprised to hear the news.

“What do you mean, she’s missing?” Brad asked, finally sounding like a real father whose child had disappeared.

“I mean exactly what I said. Izzy . . . well, she went to school and didn’t come home. They can’t find her and we can’t, either. She just . . . just disappeared. And we need your—”

“Oh, good job, Lee! Were you so busy sucking your sugar daddy’s dick that you couldn’t be bothered with watching over our daughter?”

The deputy, who had been scribbling onto a notepad, suddenly stopped mid–pen stroke. His eyes widened in astonishment. Diane sat upright in her chair, looking furious. Evan’s fist clenched in barely controlled rage. Meanwhile Leila bit down hard on her bottom lip and pushed back her shoulders, putting on the mask of calm.

“Please don’t start with me, Brad. I just called you to see if you could help us find Izzy, not to be abused.”

“Abused? Oh Lee, baby, as far as I’m concerned, I’m going easy on you! You lost our goddamn daughter, you dumb b—”

“The police are here,” she said quickly, trying to cut him off before he started another embarrassing tirade. “They’re listening to our conversation, Brad. Please . . . we need your help. Did Izzy say anything to you the last time you spoke to her? Did she mention anything about running away?”

“Yeah, in fact, she mentioned that she hated you and hated living with you,” Brad said. “She said, ‘Come and get me, Daddy! I don’t like it here.’ I told her I couldn’t take her because her mom railroaded me out of my rights as a daddy. She dragged my child thousands of miles away so she can live in some big house with a big shot while I have to live off of baked beans and tuna!”

Evan tensed in his chair. He clamped his mouth shut, forcing himself to remain silent. He didn’t want to ruin the chance of them getting information from Brad that would help find Isabel, but it took all his control not to shout at Brad, not to want to reach through the phone and punch him in the face.

“Please,” Leila said softly. Her eyes welled with tears again. “Please, just . . . just tell us if she said something. I don’t—”

“Fuck you! You stole her from me and now you want my help in finding her because you lost her? Why don’t you ask your sugar daddy for help, huh?”

Evan gazed at Leila as she dropped her head and started to cry openly.

He wanted her to scream at Brad, to tell him to go to hell. He wanted her to remind Brad of the years he had cheated on her with other women . . . of how he had gambled away their livelihood and well-being with illegal pyramid schemes that landed him criminal charges . . . how his selfishness had driven Leila away. Brad’s egotistical behavior had forced her to put herself and her daughter first. That’s why she had left him! That’s why she had moved clear across the country and taken their daughter with her. She hadn’t done it out of selfishness, but selflessness.

But Leila didn’t say any of that; she didn’t defend herself. She sat there silently and accepted his insults and yelling like it was her penance, like she deserved this flagellation because she had done something wrong. And what had she done wrong? She had the audacity to want to be happy. She wanted to be loved by someone who truly loved her back. She wanted to get married and have a baby in a stable home with a man who adored her. How dare she!

To hell with this shit, Evan thought.

Leila shouldn’t have to apologize for falling in love and wanting to start a new life. And neither should Evan. They had served their time in abysmal relationships.

You don’t owe him a damn thing, Lee.

“Why don’t you write a check and buy a new kid?” Brad continued with maniacal glee. “Or hey, how about this? How about you give her name to the bastard baby you’re having with him? So whenever the hell you guys find her bloody, mangled body somewhere, you can—”

“Enough,” Evan said, reaching over to hang up the phone, cutting off Brad. “That’s fucking enough.” He turned to look at her, regretting that he was the one who had suggested she call Brad for help. He had given that sorry son of a bitch too much credit. “I’m sorry, baby. I’m so sorry.”

She dropped her face into her hands and Evan held her as the dial tone echoed in the study and she wept on his shoulder.