Chapter Twenty-one: Mama Bear

The firm, fast tempo of the tapping, slender index finger resonated within the sunlit hotel room.

"Good morning, this's Chief Officer Mocpac," a man announced on the other side of the call. "Sorry for keeping you waiting, Ms. Holidaye."

"It's fine, Officer," lied the smooth yet direct voice. "Do you have any news?"

Dealla's solo drumming on the small dresser desk had ceased as she leaned forward in her chair, listening.

"I assure you, Ma'am, if there are any new leads or information, you will be the first to be notified. We are doing everything we can."

Dealla scoffed lowly, arching a long back to rest her elbows on the desk and she wiped a clammy brow.

"'Doing everything we can...' How can someone repeat the same fu- thing for the past four fuc- freaking days?"

The woman silently cursed at herself. She didn't like profanities... which was good... good like her...

A sympathetic sigh from the chief of the station was perceived through the smartphone earpiece.

"As a father myself," he mentioned while lightening his gravelly voice to some extent, "I understand your frustrations and you have every right to be upset."

Dealla rubbed a craning neck. "I'm not asking for your pity, Officer Mocpac. I'm calling to see what else the police are doing to find my daughter."

"We have reached out to other stations. And the local news has broadcasted the lost report as well."

"...And I know this already," stated Dealla matter-of-factly. "Please... retell me the last lead that you have again."

The chief attempted to repress another sigh but failed miserably, causing Dealla to narrow her sights and crinkle the center of her brow. He cleared his gruff vocal cords.

"Witnesses indicated that they'd seen Joyce on a bus that traveled near the tree line of the forest. The driver admitted she made Joyce leave the bus because of the lack of pay."

Even though the mother had heard this before, her slate-gray eyes fluttered incredulously.

"And that's it? And the bus driver-"

"Who's been fired, Ma'am" the policeman interjected.

"...Whatever," commented the middle-aged woman. "Satan himself can read the bitc- low-life's... dang resume for all I care... So, she drops off lost tourists practically nowhere, all because some scum-bag swipes money from them?"

"As of yet, Ma'am, there's been no confirmation if there was a pit-pocket. It's a possibility that Joyce had accidentally lost money."

Dealla shook her head curtly. "No... I know my daughter. She's trusting, but she's careful to not keep money out in the open. But couldn't anyone else on that dam- dang bus have a heart and had just given her a few bucks? Or the driver could've spared a ticket or token or whatever? And Joy's a smart girl! She could've used her phone to pay for the trip."

Officer Mocpac was quiet for a moment and Dealla heard shuffling in a squeaky, leather swivel chair.

"Ma'am... when Joyce left the bus, she was the last passenger remaining. And not every civilian can locate specialized bus fare in a lot of these counties, so it's not used. Moreover, phone signals in some parts are also quite bad, too."

"Of course they are..," Dealla muttered under her breath, slowly blinking once. "Then why the hel- heck didn't the... dam-dang driver just help a scared, young girl out? Where the fu-frick is the compassion?!"

At this point in the mother's terrified life, not swearing like a sailor was becoming... extremely difficult.

"Well, Ms. Holidaye, in the written report, the former bus driver states that Joyce was raising her voice."

Officer Mocpac could hear creaking chair legs brushing along a thin carpet. Not sure why, but visualizing the taller, woman standing and scowling down at him with a jaw tight as her fists made the man's neck shrink a tad.

"Officer... you're telling me... that a fucking, grown-ass bitch was afraid of a sweet, five-foot-tall girl with special needs?"

Dealla would apologize to her daughter later for using expletives. Emotions were ruling the roost now.

"A'hem... Apologies, Ma'am, but this isn't a speculation by me. I'm giving you the report to which the bus driver states about Joyce's disruptive... behave...ior."

Officer Mocpac's ears had perceived the sounds of very, very heated breaths.

"Of course, my daughter was getting loud. She was scared and begging for help! Joy's heart's made of pure crystal!"

The chief nodded to himself. "I don't doubt the fact that your daughter is good, Ma'am-"

"And she's vegan for CHRIST SAKE! She wouldn't swat the fly that bit her!"

Officer Mocpac had to distance his phone from his assaulted eardrums. "I understand your anger, Ms. Holidaye. I assure you, we are doing everything we can."

"Okay then," said Dealla as she strode around the room in a vain attempt to calm her nerves. "Then why not resend out the search dogs? You've claimed they had found Joy's scent on the bus that she was on and where my poor baby was dumped."

"Yes, that's correct, Ma'am. And we have the dogs checking out the nearest shops where you said Joyce wanted to-"

"Wait," the woman cut in, standing stock-still. "In your report, it said that no one at the shops had seen Joy. She... she never even got there. ...So why in the hell are you sending the search dogs there?!"

"As a precaution, Ms. Holidaye. We are searching every place if Joyce has made it to her destination."

He sounds like a goddamn, outdated GPS, thought the vexed woman as she blew air through a thin nose.

"Please, Officer Mocpec, just take the dogs and search where that poor excuse of a human being left my daughter... Please!"

The pleading tone triggered the father of two young boys to empathize with the distraught parent. However, at the same time, what she was asking, also poured dread into his heart.

"Yes, we did have the dogs check those surrounding areas, but when we neared the tree line, the trail for the dogs j-uh, just... st-stopped."

The policeman groaned internally from stumbling on his words. His mind could just see one of the woman's red eyebrows rising.

Blindsided, Dealla was profoundly unblinking. This was new information.

"What do you mean by 'just stop'? Trained dogs listen and obey. As a kid, I'd gotten my parents' Dobermans to recall and heel. Surely, the police can train their Shepherds and Labs better than a lanky teenager?"

Dealla waited over several seconds for the chief to break the silence.

"Officer Mocpac?"

"Yes, that's true, Ms. Holidaye," he finally concurred. "They are well-trained and experienced. But the dogs ceased their tracking. In spite of repetitive commands."

"And what's so alarming to the dogs there?" questioned the woman as she paused her pacing. "I've been checking around that bus stop and all I see is snow, trees... and even more damn trees."

"Ms. Holidaye, I highly advise you to not go searching alone, particularly within all those secluded woods."

Dealla's free hand balled up. She was upset enough as it was and she didn't care for the policeman's reprimanding tone. At all.

"Officer, I'm a forty-seven-year-old nurse who worked the graveyard shift in the ER for three Goddamn years. I've dealt with enough trauma to make everyone in your station piss their trousers."

"Trousers...Ma'am?"

Dealla's unclenched her fist from perceiving his bemusement.

"You know, trousers... isn't that what Europeans call pants?"

"Apologies, I've never heard of that term."

Dealla huffed loudly, not caring if Officer Mocpac heard her. She wasn't surprised that he did not know what trousers were. Considering everyone she's spoken to since arriving in Eastern Europe sounded American... In what God part of town was she, exactly..?

The worried woman shrugged off that enigma and went back to the dresser chair, pulling it in.

"Well, if your dogs are too cowardly, what else are you doing to locate my daughter?"

The policeman didn't appreciate the mocking of their K9 division, but he let it slide.

"We've sent a copter to scan the region by the bus stop. However, the nearby range is a majority of dense evergreens which spread to the distant Village Ruins.

Dealla rubbed her temple then down a contour, apple-shaped profile.

"The ruins that nobody visits..."

"The mountain range is very vast and treacherous on foot. Hikers avoid exploring it and the woodland that harbors it. But our copter has scanned those ruins. Many times, in fact. But other than some wayward animals on the premises, there have been no reports of human life."

Following a trembling respire, the woman licked her dried, cupid lips and took a sip of warm water.

"I am aware of all this and I don't give a rat's ass about some busted up old town, less my child is there."

Cradling a bent elbow, she throbbed the heel of a black boot on the carpet of the room.

"...Please... I... I j-just want my-my Joy in-in my Goddamn arms!"

The chief sighed sorrowfully. The smooth voice of the lamenting mother was broken up from hiccupping sobs.

"I do fully understand your worries, Ms. Holidaye, but I assure you, we are doing-"

"...Everything you can," Dealla finished for him after clearing her nose and throat. "I've been calling Joy for the past several days, but it still goes right to voicemail. Are... are you sure you can't find a way to... to trace her phone?"

"As stated previously, Joyce's smartphone must be active for us to locate recent whereabouts. The last location mapped on her phone was your hotel, right before she vacated."

The mother sucked in a breath, knowing very well why Joy must have originally powered down her phone. And if she turned it on while lost in those scary, stupid woods with no signal...

Following a minute of uncomfortable silence, Dealla relented a sharp respire.

"Please, Officer, I can't keep walking aimlessly through a forest. Even with a compass, I'm no damn ranger. I don't want to make things worse because I can't find my daughter if I'm lost, too." Dealla stilled her bouncing knee "...Can't... Can't you just please try some new search dogs to track the forest to see if they can pick up Joy's scent?"

Officer Mocpac took some time to respond. Dealla swiped her glass for another edgy drink.

"Yes, Ma'am, we've brought different breeds. But they would also lose... focus or... become agitated every time."

Dealla noticed his tenor sounded cagey.

"I'm sorry, Officer, but that's some prime bullshit. You're professionals. If the search team goes in with the dogs, they could urge them on the search."

She waited. No response on the other line. The woman rolled her tongue.

"Or do you need me to hold your hands?"

"Locating your daughter is paramount, Ms. Holidaye, but we have to secure proper protocols."

Dealla's lower eyelids arose. "And what in the hell does that even mean?"

"We can't risk our officers nor the search team."

"From... From what?"

When the upset woman heard nothing but noisy nose breathing, she gripped her purple smartphone tighter and chuckled dryly.

"So your dogs aren't the only ones with their tails stuck between their legs over those goddamned woods. ...Fine. I'll ask what I asked you yesterday... You sure there isn't a map to the Village Ruins?"

More silence on the policeman's end.

"Officer Mocpac?"

"I'm sorry," was the delayed reply. "But be assured, we are doing everythin- Hello? Ms.? Ms. Holidaye?"

Dealla plopped her phone onto the dresser and finished off the rest of the tepid tap water. Placing the empty glass down, she blankly viewed herself in its mirror.

Plum-red hair was in full disarray. The woman couldn't recall the last time she brushed it. Probably after her shower. Of which when she took one also eluded her anxious, pensive mind. Dealla's hair was well past the center strap of her brassiere. It was a real pain to manage, but Joy always admired the length, hence she let it be.

Dealla was a busy nurse. But she made regular visits to the gym to stay on her toes at work, hence, age wouldn't slow her down when around her spunky, youthful daughter. Living in California, the woman was always faithful with sunblock and could pass for her thirties or sometimes, after a fitful sleep, her late twenties... That was if her eyelids didn't currently resemble a pair of dejected puffer fish.

During countless searches after the snow banks in streets were cleared and salted, the distracted mother had lost her coat, so a jacket that she had found in the closet, was draped over a lavender blouse. But a misplaced coat was a trivial concern.

After hammering eight reddened fingertips, Dealla pushed the heavy chair back and got to her feet again, and her tired sights roamed the hotel room. The bright and cheery chamber had a yellow interior with wall-to-wall tan carpeting, and it was well-furnished with a sizable, hung television, an attractive pole lamp that was almost as tall as her, and a full sofa with a lounger and ottoman.

In the right center of the room was a pair of twin XL bedsteads with cotton soft pillows and comforters that matched the red furniture. But when Dealla cast her trailing, welling eyes to one of the beds that was still made, she felt like she was surrounded by nothing but glum and darkness.

The conversation with Chief Officer Mocpac was supposed to be supportive, not detrimental to her already hurting psyche. The frustration within her pained heart was yearning for her to lurch the glass or better yet, the dresser out of one of the windows. It was small enough to do so for a woman of her six-foot, two-inch stature. Partially fortunate for the hotelier, a remnant of common sense speckled in and she gave the dresser chair a good toss instead; sailing it across the room and impacting the wall with a resounding whack.

The worry and guilt were really bringing up some raw anger. Dealla used to find curbing her temper wasn't too hard. But she also knew that without a cub, Mama Bears could not nor would not suppress their aggression.

Not checking for any cracks in the drywall, Dealla walked to one of the windowpanes. One of them was open partway for the weather was finally breaking.

However, Joy went missing before that horrid and utterly unexpected snowstorm. Was she cold? Fresh clothes were still in the hotel room. Did Joy remember the extra pair of socks that was added to her backpack?

Without realizing it, Dealla was nibbling her fingernails and she chided herself. She hadn't resumed that bad habit since Joy's emergency hysterectomy. One moment, her cheery daughter was sitting by her little easel, painting away. And the next, doubled over and kneeling on the rug, ready to pass out.

The woman looked over the yellow chipping nail polish that Joy had so proudly worked on ... And she wasn't there to repaint them...

The feeling of the unknown of not knowing where her child was in this Godforsaken foreign country and being the reason for her missing was overwhelming for the single mother. She didn't trust strangers. And her daughter was taught to be wary of them. The woman's former spouse became disappointed when they were informed that their unborn child had Down's syndrome. The inhuman bastard walked right out of the hospital and their lives. What a precious life he had been missing out on. If he ever strode by, his ex wouldn't even give him a first glance... Just like any other stranger.

From then on, Dealla had been shielding Joy ever since the world was blessed to welcome her. And always, she had been an honest girl and would not go off without telling her mother where she was going.

All the same, the constant calling and texting and practically performing everything for Joy: heating leftovers in the microwave... using the toaster oven... and unceasingly walking side by side in public had finally taken its toll on the big-hearted, special little lady. Maybe if Dealla trusted Joy a little more, and had given her more breathing space, this upmost, worst nightmare wouldn't be transpiring before her.

Dealla made a silent, solid oath. Once her Baby Bear was safely snuggled in her arms, she would learn to trust more.

For her...

Joy wanted to explore other parts of the world so much. So instead of taking her daughter out golfing like they'd done every year, the mother finally gave in, performed extra shifts at the hospital, and saved up to go to Eastern Europe for sightseeing as a gift for this special day...

"This special day," she bemoaned with an exhale, fogging the window glass.

The woman pushed the many runaway parted bangs from her teary vision. Some days as an RN had given her some mental scars but it was always Joy who managed to heal them. The young woman saw goodness in everyone once she knew it was fine to engage. Hell, if it wasn't for Joy, Dealla would be paying for this lavished hotel stay.

The hotelier had a talk with her kind and attentive daughter. When Joy learned that he was depressed because it was close to his wedding anniversary, she brought him some fluffy dandelions and asked permission if he'd like a hug. The elder said he hadn't had such a warm embrace since his late wife passed away. And he let Dealla know that she could stay at the hotel at no charge for as long as she needed. The man even knocked on every guest's door and passed out lost flyers.

Joy was amazing. She made an impact on one lonely person who only knew her for less than an hour. This didn't come as a surprise to Dealla. That bright beam, those bubbly giggles... those... little jumps for joy whenever she was super-duper excited...

Sorely, the woman swallowed air. Despite the water, her throat remained dry as the Sahara. She'd kill for some white wine right now... but now was not the time.

Dealla glimpsed at a wall clock. It was still early so there'd be plenty of daylight. Then, she would use a flashlight when dusk fell.

Walking back to the bureau, Dealla picked up her smartphone. And once she was certain that the battery icon was near full, she beheld its screensaver of the cherished, joyful image.

Happy Birthday, Baby Bear... Please... Don't cry... D-Don't cry...

That blizzard was really bad...

Was she hungry?

Was she still hungry..?

The woman pulled in an anguished breath. Breathing out, she clicked the phone and returned it to her black jeans pocket. After a minute of waiting to gain a grain of composure, she tapered her eyelids shut while slender hands slowly clenched and coiled inward like a vice.

No... No... Someone so sweet... so perfect would not vanish from this world! Dealla would die before that happened. She'd fight off anyone or anything that dared to hurt her child or touch a single strand of deep red hair on that precious, beautiful head.

Screw the spineless police. She would find her Baby Bear.

With a gleam of silver revealed in determined eyes, the tall, doughty mother seized her purse and the hung keys to the rental car, and left the hotel room, slamming its door from her protective wake.

A/N: To see a visual of Dealla, in Deviantart, search this title - Pure Joy: Dealla Holidaye (Mama Bear)