Chapter 2
One year later, in Cincinnati:
"Nadia, you're on in five," the program director at the radio station reminded her.
"Thanks, Jimmy," she said cheerfully, quickly taking her seat with a stack of CD's.
She had been at the station now for a little over nine months; since that day the Richards had picked her up on the highway, Nadia's life had turned around.
She hadn't remembered them at first while in the hospital, nor had she remembered how she'd gotten on that highway in Ohio. Considering how things had turned out, it really didn't matter now.
Nadia had been Jane Doe then; neither her DNA nor fingerprints had turned up any vital information on any databases; the woman had apparently not gotten as much as a traffic ticket, much less had gone to any correctional facility where both DNA and fingerprints would have been registered.
A sketch of her had appeared in the local paper and even Rick Richards, a popular young anchorman, had managed to put the Jane Doe story on the evening news, but in spite of all those efforts, no one had come forward to identify her.
George and Julie Richards, Rick's parents, knew Jane Doe had to go somewhere after leaving the hospital, and they weren't about to see her get lost in the shuffle on the streets or in a shelter somewhere, so they had taken the liberty of bringing her into their home, a surrogate daughter of sorts.
In the meanwhile, she needed an identity; it hadn't been an easy feat, but George, a retired government worker, had pulled some strings.
They had called her Nadia, after Julie's late mother, and George had helped in getting her the proper documentation, even listing her birthday as the day they had found her and an estimated year of birth, guessing Nadia was somewhere in her early thirties.
As a result, Jane Doe, age unknown, became Nadia Julie Richards, age thirty two.
Rick would become her best friend; it had been he that had gotten Nadia the job at the radio station that was affiliated with his TV one. He discovered she had a lovely voice for radio, so when the four to seven weekday slot became open when the previous announcer departed for Dallas, Rick threw Nadia's name into the hat, and she was hired.
Now as she prepared to go on the air, Nadia arranged the music on her play list accordingly, along with the ubiquitous commercial tracks that came with the job. The station had to pay their bills somehow.
Even after all this time, she still couldn't recall any of her past, but at this point, she didn't really care anymore.
In Austin:
It had been a year since Petra's disappearance, but Paul could still remember it to the present day.
They had argued, but he couldn't remember the details of it now. It hadn't been long after that when Petra had gone and locked herself in her room, not coming out for hours.
He had gone for a drive, and had come home to find her gone. The neighbors next door had told Paul at the time that they had seen Pet leave barefoot and presumed she was just going out for a few minutes.
He too had assumed the same thing, being he had seen the pair of Pet's shoes right inside the door, and her purse—still containing her cash, debit card, and all the bric a brac women carried in those things—was still there as well. She couldn't have gone too far without them.
Petra's dental floss was still in the bathroom; it was a known fact that she never went anywhere for more than a day without her dental floss. When it came to dental health, Pet was beyond anal retentive.
When she hadn't come back that night; he was concerned, but figured she had met up with one of her friends, and still angry with him, had gone to the friend's place to cool off and perhaps get in a rant or two, and perhaps would slip back in later.
But she still hadn't come home the next morning, or the next two days following that.
On the third day, Paul had reported her missing, and dealt with suspicious stares for the longest time, from the cops all the way down to Petra's closest friends. Her disappearance may not have been discussed very much anymore—at least out loud—but he was convinced that the whispers of him having something to do with Pet being gone were still going.
And finding that damn note on Pet's computer after she'd disappeared hadn't helped much. It had been from one of her friends in California:
Petty,
I'm not trying to interfere or anything, so take this as you want.
It's
obvious you have a lot of feelings for Paul, but don't let your
feelings cloud what's really going on here... please. I know what's going on here... don't be a fool.
I'm
inclined to agree with some of the comments made by Stephen, and I'm
sorry if you find anything I say anything offensive. But as Stephen
told you, you come across as a very intelligent, talented woman that
deserves so much better and I don't want to see you being taken for
a ride. It was VERY obvious with his last girlfriend's
situation and it's very obvious now with yours...please guard your
heart. He isn't worth it. Walk out that door and don't go back
while you still have some dignity left.
I'm sorry.
Ellen
Don't be a fool? What was really going on? Dignity?
What was this woman talking about?
Sure, there may have been some love between him and Spanky, but Paul would have liked to have thought it certainly didn't change his feelings for Petra.
And who the HELL was Stephen and why was he and this Ellen planting ideas in Pet's head?
Was that really why she walked out and never came home on that May night?
And a year later, Petra Jay Fahey was still missing.
Though Pet's case was now a cold case one at the police department, Paul had never stopped looking for her. He not only had to get her back, but also prove once and for all he had nothing to do with her being missing in the first place.
