Wow, just realized it was two years ago today when The Annoucement happened. It's really amazing how much things can change. Hope always springs eternal : )
####
"Are you sure you wanna do this thing?"
Frankie returned a quick, reassuring kiss from his wife before answering his brother-in-law. "I'm thinking this beats the alternative plan."
Reggie shrugged, a slight smile tugging at his lips. "Hey, it seemed like the easiest solution."
Sure, if I wanted to get pegged as a potential pedophile. He didn't say this about Reggie's suggestion that he just approach William in the park. It was a favored location for the boy and his adopted mother, Frankie had learned from the PI Randi hired.
He opted for a simple 'thanks, but I'll stick with Plan B' instead.
He was already dressed for the part, anyway. Pressing down his scrubs, Frankie gave Randi a more lingering parting, and he savored the two simple words whispered into his ear: "Good luck."
First thing on exiting the car, he found a complement to his wife's encouragement. He plucked the shamrock and walked up to the brick building, taking in a breathful of freshly mown grass.
Releasing the breath slowly, Frankie went to meet his son for the first time.
####
"And spare me the lecture."
Her preoccupation with resetting the yellow tape prevented the shrug. "Lecture?"
Yasmin's new partner (in-crime) didn't bother to look up. In fact, since she'd found herself in the dual role of photographer and chauffeur today, Yasmin hadn't really gotten so much as a sideways glance.
"Yeah, the one I know you, Ms. Morals and Ethics, have been dying to give about contaminating a crime scene."
She couldn't help but bite back the smile at that particular observation. There were obviously quite a few 'miscalculations' Ms. Montgomery had made about her. "Compared to some things one could do, this is child's play, as I believe they say." She would leave it, and the subsequent eyebrow raise, at that. "Well, I did want to make one small suggestion." She leaned down and dropped the flashlight - complete with a few lock-picking additives - into Bianca's lap.
"This might make things easier next time."
Bianca opened, then quickly closed her mouth. She had at least robbed the other woman of her typical quick-witted response. The alternative response was a turned chair. An unwillingness to admit that maybe, just maybe, a little assistance was appreciated…maybe even respected.
How could Reggie have ever thought that? –
The room – this otherwise unremarkable four walls of gray – grew quiet as they were reminded of its one point of unforgettable.
Bianca was still, her eyes fixed on the fading chalk outline.
Sometimes, the outlines weren't so white, or so neat. But a part of them always remained, etched into the earth.
Clearing her throat, clearing the images, Yasmin moved beside Bianca. "You were friends, weren't you?"
Her companion shifted ever-so-slightly, perhaps clearing her own images. "Yes." The response was short, abrupt: a warning that she didn't heed.
"It must be difficult for you -"
"We came here to do a job, so I think we should get to it."
And there it was – the sharp tone Yasmin was coming to know so well.
"Then what exactly should we do?" The sharpness was creeping into her own voice, and she tried to reign it in, but this…this woman made that a little - a damn lot - difficult. "I just mean that the police have already combed over this area. They even have a suspect -"
"It wasn't -"
It seemed as if they were taking turns reigning things in.
"Wasn't what?"
"Nothing. I just think…I know that there's more. How did I not? - Ryan was here for a reason. He was working on something, and that something..."
Yasmin supplied the obvious conclusion to that assertion. "Got him killed?"
The lack of a response this time was all the response she needed.
Bianca was obviously braced for an extended argument, but she wouldn't get one. Somehow, crazy as it might make her, Yasmin believed what this equally crazy woman across from her was implying.
"What can I do?" she asked.
A part of her enjoyed throwing Ms. Montgomery off-guard. It would keep their partnership… interesting, at least.
"If we find something, then you can snap a few shots. Otherwise, you can be the lookout."
"You mean go stand in the corner and wait on you?"
"However you want to look at it."
The small smirk made her reevaluate the merits of said 'interesting partnership.'
####
"You wait by the door and I'll…look at these." The hand wave toward the clutter on the desk didn't exactly fill her with confidence.
Amanda crossed her arms. "How about you stand here and I'll look at those." Her quick eye flick to the locked cabinet tucked behind the room's lone potted plant garnered an eyebrow raise from her husband.
"Maybe you should've gone into business with my brother." Jake approached the plant and gave the small box behind it his best physician's assessment, complete with hands on hips. "But it's -"
One flash of the hairpin that had materialized in her hand, and he just bit his lip, shook his head, and gave an 'after you.'
Two large brown eyes filled her mind and intensified the steady beat in her chest, Those eyes also stopped her hand mid-pick.
A pair of arms instantly wrapped around her, paired with a soft nuzzle to her neck.
She settled back into the embrace. "I just, what if it's –"
The arms tightened. "It is, babe. Just not in the way you think." A quick brush of lips didn't send the expected chill, but rather a warmth radiating down her spine. "You think this adoption won't happen because of you, but I know that it will happen because of you...because of your tremendous, awesome capacity to love. To be a mom."
Simple words, and coming from anyone else they might have just been the equivalent of a shoulder pat and a 'there, there.' But when she turned to look into a different set of brown eyes – ones that never wavered – somehow, all of the 'what ifs?' and the 'what nows?' died an instant death, awaiting resurrection for another day.
The well-worn – well-loved – picture now rested between their palms. It captured the small owner of those amazing brown eyes that still captivated her heart. For now, this photo was their only link to the little girl they both already loved.
"Let's do this," Amanda said.
"Yes, let's." The voice held a well-schooled enthusiasm and – God, maybe she really was losing it - amusement.
The agency official stood in the doorway, and the face that had become so familiar to them shifted just for an instant, as if temporarily stripped of its mask, its -
She really needed to stop doing this.
"I am most anxious to assess the reason for this requested meeting, Mr. and Mrs. Martin." Each inflection, she had no doubt, perfectly aligned with the local dialect. A bit too perfectly.
And that subtle glance toward the hidden cabinet. Did he know what they had been planning?
"Well, allow me to get straight to the point then, sir." Jake's tone sharpened on that last syllable. "Weve had enough of the red tape. We were supposed to meet our daughter days ago, by your very words." His hold on her hand grew tighter.
A little case of good cop, bad cop never hurt.
"Listen, we recognize how lengthy this process can be, and the difficulties it must bring." She let her observation settle before continuing. "We're just so anxious to welcome the newest member of our family. I am sure a family man such as yourself can understand that." She forced the smile and the requisite sugar on top.
"Indeed I can, Mr. Martin." The man smiled himself, one no doubt designed to put them both at ease.
Or to let their guards down.
Both missions failed utterly.
"Which is why I am pleased to inform you that I have arranged for transportation that will take you directly to the child." He paused this time, for what effect she couldn't - or didn't want to - think about. "And this time, you will get what you deserve. You have my word of honor."
Somehow, that pledge didn't exactly put her at ease.
As they were ushered out the door, the iron butterflies in Amanda's stomach did not flutter.
They pounded.
####
The steady stream of kids was a godsend in a way, because the consistent collection of runny noses and skinned knees helped dull the edges. He settled into a comfortable, familiar rhythm of light-hearted conversations paired with routine checkup protocol. The few times he had to give a shot, he had even managed to coax a small grin from his reluctant young patients.
He'd almost forgotten that he was here under the guise of volunteer work.
The girl with the braces and the wide eyes currently inspecting his stethoscope – future top-of-the-class med school for sure – had only managed to make him remember his daughter, sleeping peacefully at her grandparents' house.
After Frankie saw her off with a wink and a Spongebob band-aid, he turned to the two boys lightly wrestling at the front of the line, each with a wide grin on his face.
The smaller boy stepped up.
And made him remember everything.
Wavy, coarse hair. Aiming for dreads. Not quite succeeding, just yet.
Slightly hooded dark eyes that could hold a million secrets, but projected only intense, focused light.
A baby face fighting to grow up…and a single small dimple that served as the ultimate line of defense. So much like –
And two thick lips trying for indifference, trying for the tween disdain of anyone over the age of 25. Betrayed by that traitorous dimple.
Frankie absorbed it all in seconds, so that he could remember always.
He would remember how smooth brown skin perfectly melded with his own when he touched his son for the first time.
He would remember how every test, every knee-knock, every routine procedure slowly chipped away the doubts, the fears he had harbored: no bruises, no paleness, no black circles or fidgety hands…
No lack of caring.
He would remember listening to a steady, strong heartbeat and a voice full of the same.
He would remember how, for a few minutes, they had bonded over the fascinating, completely world-altering subject of extreme skateboarding.
It was their first father-son talk.
It would be their last.
At day's end, Frankie watched William approach a tall man in work boots. The tiredness in those eyes evaporated when the man put a hand on his son's shoulder. And despite his best efforts to remain cool, William immediately eased at this man's touch.
At his father's comfort.
Frankie took the shamrock from his pocket and placed it on the table before leaving.
Most of all, he would remember the smile.
####
"Assalamu alaikum wa rahmatullah."
Yasmin stepped from the one clean spot she had managed to craft in the room. The prayer was not just a requirement or an obligation, but a reprieve from the dark surroundings...and a reminder of why she was here.
She could see the curiosity and the questions dancing in the eyes that were watching her now, but if Bianca actually wanted to get to know her, to be the girl Reggie had always described, then she would have to make the effort herself.
Instead, the ever-faithful reporter returned to her intense appraisal of every crack and corner of every wall.
"If I have permission to leave my post, then I could help, you know."
"You take pictures. What do you know about? –"
"About secrets? About lies? About seeing things a thousand lifetimes couldn't erase? About wanting to do something, to –" It was her time to turn away. "No, I wouldn't know about any of that," she finished with the last ounce of breath she could muster before it all…
It got quiet again, and she couldn't – wouldn't let anything but the positive feelings the prayer had invoked fill that space.
Something else filled it instead.
"I'm…"
She didn't wait for the apology. "Look, I'm just a little on-edge since Reggie's been out of town. I know he's helping his family, but it's still hard. That's all."
Yes, that was all, if she didn't include the memories best left as just that. If she didn't include the meetings she now had to take alone with her lawyer/father-in-law. If she didn't include the tense nature of those meetings, or the related subjects she couldn't discuss with anyone except the one person who was miles away – especially not with the one person who just might understand better than anybody.
That person finally spoke again. "I would…" Bianca looked down before continuing. "I would appreciate your help."
After a long pause, Yasmin nodded and moved forward. "Well, I'm thinking that the best place to hide something..."
"Is in plain sight."
A first-time sight accompanied Bianca's statement. The genuine smile made Yasmin sorry that its owner kept it locked away so much. It deserved a better spotlight.
Together, they dug through the small opening. One minute later, they had retrieved a USB stick and a sealed envelope.
"It looks like we may have our story after all."
"Ryan's story," Bianca added softly.
A slight shift teased the corner of her eye again. Yasmin had learned long ago that these shifts were the most dangerous kind.
"Excuse me a moment," she said, with a casual move to the door.
"I just need to…" She pulled the rain-slicked, struggling girl inside. "Welcome our visitor."
####
As the few scattered buildings gave way to endless desert, that tell-tale muscle in his jaw tensed.
For her part, the lining of her stomach was well-bruised. The dirty jeep lurched over another dusty patch, settling them with a sick thud after a few seconds. Amanda wiped her hands on a once-white shirt now adorned with dark streaks. The thick coat of greasy moisture on her palms was promptly replaced with a fresh coat.
"We're getting further away from the town." Jake's comment was addressed to one of the two silent figures stationed in the front of the van. Since they'd begun this journey what seemed like hours ago, she had not distinguished one feature of their current companions save two cleanly shaved heads….and two matching, pulsing veins.
"Where are we going?" This time, the words were clear, direct. With an edge.
"To the girl, of course." The voice was full of dirt, gravel, and the rapidly rushing darkness of his surroundings. His home. "I think you know the path well, Doctor."
The man occupying the right seat turned slightly, affording Amanda her first glimpse of a jagged scar etched around two eyes that made a primal, dark promise.
The cocked gun provided a more modern, concrete deliverance of this promise.