Carrying Secrets: Hanging On, #2

Chapter 1

Desiree

PAIN TAKES MY breath away and then squeezes my body like a boa constrictor. I grit my teeth and roll my face into my pillow. I want to cry out for help, but I won’t. I can’t.

It’s 11:26. The full moon shines into my bedroom like a spotlight. I had hoped this would happen on the fourth of July when my parents were out for the night, but why should any part of an unplanned life go according to plan? It is the seventh, and my parents are sleeping, I hope, in their bedroom across the house. The only relief I have is some neighbor who’s shooting off leftover fireworks. Maybe his noise will drown mine.

When the pain releases me, fear takes its place. I roll out of bed. My water has broken in the night, and all I can think about is the mess I’ll have to clean up before Mother finds out what has happened here. I stumble awkwardly into my bathroom, knowing I will soon have to strangle my urge to scream, and I doubt I possess the courage I will need for any of this.

I have watched women give birth. I have seen the fear in their eyes. I’ve heard their agony. Most of them beg for pain killers. I don’t have that option, and suddenly I wish I didn’t know so much. My fear escalates as I stumble into my bathroom and lock the door.

I drag a bag from the cabinet beneath my sink, and when I stand up, I see myself in the mirror. My strange teal eyes look wild with terror. My chestnut hair, drenched in sweat, is tangled and matted. I look like a frightened child being dragged kicking and screaming into adulthood. I look so much younger than seventeen, and so much older, too. I turn away because this girl I barely recognize terrifies me. How did I let myself become this person?

I’ve gathered supplies over time. A cord clamp. Sterile scissors. Diapers. The thought of cutting the cord makes me squeamish. I drag the bag to the bathtub, and I balance my clumsy self on the edge. I pull some old towels out of the bag first. I bought them at a neighbor’s yard sale because I don’t dare ruin Mother’s expensive linens.

With trembling hands, I lift a soft pink blanket and a tiny pair of pajamas to my nose. I found these in my hope chest, and they are all I have. I inhale the pungent, musty scent of cedar, and I hope my baby is a girl so I don’t have to dress a boy in pink. If she is a girl, I will call her Hope.

Another contraction grips me. I shove a washcloth into my mouth and bite down as hard as I can. I close my eyes, and hot tears roll down my cheeks.

When I can move again, I turn on the tub faucet, praying the noise will not wake my parents. I am sweating and shivering at the same time. I’m so cold. When the water is warm but not too hot for the baby, I step into the tub and turn off the faucet. I’m scared and alone and in more pain than I ever imagined.

Suddenly everything burns, and my mind goes blank. All I know is some instinct as old as time takes over. I don’t know how to push or when, but my body knows. I don’t even want to push. I tell myself I can’t do it. It hurts too much.

Still, my body contracts and pushes. My fear gives way to the urgency to get this over with. I push with every ounce of my strength. This has got to end. I clench my jaw and squeeze my eyes shut. This torture seems to go on for hours.

I think I’m going to die, and I wonder how my parents will feel when they find me here, dead, in the morning. I’m sure I won’t survive this.

And suddenly, it’s over. The pain sets me free, and I’m holding this wrinkly, naked, tiny body. It’s blue and purple, and I’m afraid that it’s dead. My heart races. What do I do?

Tate

POLICE CHIEF TATE Lewis speeds from his cozy log cabin to the banks of the Uncompahgre River. Crime is rare in this rural Colorado community, which is why Tate was surprised to get the call this morning about a potential crime.

What does not surprise Tate is the number of locals with nothing better to do on a Monday morning than to tromp all over his potential evidence. Gossip flows faster than the river during spring runoff in this small town. These people had likely come running the second they heard the ambulance siren. Tate parks his SUV near the river and notices a teenage girl passed out and lying on her stomach on the riverbank.

Clear out, now, Tate says. Move along, folks. Tate turns to the EMT, who’s busy pulling blue rubber gloves onto his hands. What do we know?

That guy over there found her. The young EMT jerks his chin toward a young man Tate had known since that man was a child. Logan Chadwick. Looks like she just passed out. Maybe tripped and fell. Hard to say. Faint pulse. Blood in her hair from a cut on her forehead, but no apparent neck injuries. Looks like vaginal bleeding, too.

Tate feels the color draining from his face. You implying rape? If that story got out, people in his small town would panic.

I’m not implying anything. Just giving you the facts. We’ll know more when we get her to the hospital. A doctor will call you with the results of an official examination.

Check for some ID before you take her, Tate advises, observing a girl who appears to be sixteen or seventeen, with long, brown hair.

Got it. The EMT and his partner carry a backboard to the girl. While they work, Tate makes his way over to Logan.

You okay? Tate asks.

Yeah. Just a little startled, I guess. I just came out for a quick run. Didn’t expect to find her. Tate knew Nichole Madrid lived about a mile from where the two men were standing. Logan and Nichole had been high school sweethearts, and Logan had stepped in to help Nichole after her husband, Adam, had been murdered up in Rainbow Falls nearly two years ago.

Tate had gone to high school with Logan’s dad. Logan had recently moved back home after his dad had some heart trouble. He had taken a job as principal at the local middle school.

How’s your dad doing?

He’s okay. Logan shrugs. Tires easily. Not as energetic as he used to be. That’s hard to watch, but he’s getting a little stronger every day.

Glad to hear that. Tell him I said hi. Tate puts his hands in the front pockets of his jeans and leans back slightly, resting his weight on his heels. You recognize this girl?

No, Logan says, watching the EMTs lift her onto the board and carry her to the ambulance. I’ve never seen her before. He gestures toward Nichole’s house, which is about a mile from where the two men are standing. I had breakfast at Nichole’s. Came out for a quick run. I’m helping her with the day camp this summer. I have a couple of hours before the kids arrive. I’m running a pitching camp today. Just helping out, you know?

Tate nods and notices how Logan blushes when he talks about Nichole.

I know most of the kids in town who are this age, Logan continues. She didn’t attend the local middle school. Unless she’s older than she looks, and she went through the system before I got back. Danny used to meet a girl who lives around here somewhere. I can call him to see if he knows anything about her. He’s headed up to Rainbow Falls with Nichole’s friend, Maggie, today. I can see if he knows anything.

Danny? Tate asks.

Yeah. Nichole adopted the kids whose dad killed Adam. Thought the whole town knew about that.

Tate nods. He’d heard about that. Just didn’t know the kids’ names, which meant the kids hadn’t been in any kind of trouble involving law enforcement. Can you call him? Logan nods and pulls out his cell phone while Tate studies the ground. Strange, Tate mumbles to himself as he walks a semi-circle around the spot where the girl had been lying just a few minutes ago. Doesn’t look like she was dragged here, he says. No signs of a scuffle or anything. Looks like she fell and hit her head. So, who is she and what was she doing out here?

Logan hangs up and joins Tate. Danny didn’t answer, he says.

There’s a trail here. See these footprints? These look like her shoe size and prints. You want to follow it with me?

Sure, Logan says.

So, how did Danny meet this girl who lives around here? Tate asks as he leads Logan next to the narrow trail through the forest.

He was fishing at the river, and she was running trails. He met her when he first came to live with Nichole in May, but I think they broke up last fall. Kind of a summer fling, I guess, Logan says with a shrug. Danny doesn’t say much. He’s not a kid who grew up trusting adults, you know?

What time did Danny leave town?

Logan looks at his watch. We finished breakfast about an hour ago or so. He and Maggie should be on the road by now.

How are Nichole and Emma adjusting? My wife and I were surprised to hear they took in four kids from the family who killed Adam. That’s a level of kindness I don’t possess, Tate says as he studies the ground, still finding no clues about the girl.

Me, too. They felt sorry for those kids, Logan says. They still miss Adam. A lot. Logan’s voice is thick with emotion. Maggie Malone helped them out so much in Rainbow Falls. She bought a place up the road, and she’s a huge help with Emma and the Oberlin kids.

I’ve heard you’re a big help, too, Tate says.

Logan shakes his head. I guess.

Tate hears doubt in Logan’s tone. Logan’s parents have worried about Logan for years because he’s never gotten over his high school sweetheart. Never married. Never even dated much, despite his good looks.

The two men walk in silence along the well-worn path through the forest. They zigzag around trees for at least five minutes. When they step into the sunshine, they find a barbed wire fence that separates a beautiful house and yard from the wilderness.

Logan whistles. Whoa. This place looks more like a resort than a house. This must belong to that doctor who owns the fancy women’s health spa. It’s around here somewhere. I hear most of his clients are wealthy. His deluxe packages come with massages and pedicures before every medical exam.

Tate gives Logan a funny look. How do you know?

Logan chuckles. I had to sit through a meeting with the guy once for the school district. We work with doctors and counselors to solve our high pregnancy rate. Dr. Devlin performs abortions after hours, but he doesn’t like to admit it. Some teachers told us all about him after the meeting. He caters to wealthy women and pretty much turns his nose up at the teacher crowd.

Does the guy have any kids?

Not that I’ve ever met, Logan says.

I wonder if this girl is the product of an abortion gone wrong.

I sure hope not, Logan answers. He points. I think that building is the health spa. I know it’s on the same property as his house.

I’ll go talk to the good doctor. Keep trying Danny for me, will you? Tate says.

Okay, but I don’t think he knows anything about this. I told him to focus on school and baseball, and that’s exactly what he’s been doing, Logan says, sounding defensive. He’s a good kid, but I’ll try him again later. When I find him, I’ll let you know.

I’m not accusing him of anything, Logan. I just need to know who this girl is, and maybe he can help me.

The men walk around the back of the health spa in silence. When they reach the parking lot, Logan keeps walking toward the river while Tate enters the building.

He’s met with a hostile glare by a woman with dark eyes and narrow rectangular glasses. The lobby, which looks like a ski lodge, is filled with women in various stages of pregnancy reclining in leather chairs and reading magazines.

How can I help you? the woman asks.

I need to speak with Dr. Devlin, Tate says. Official business.

What’s this about?

An investigation, Tate says. The woman twists her hands nervously together as though one wants to flutter away and the other has to hold it still. It’s confidential.

He’s busy, the woman snaps.

Actually, he’s between appointments, offers a cheerful young woman in scrubs. Follow me. She smiles while the other woman glares at her with pure hatred.

Tate follows the young woman to Dr. Devlin’s office. The door is open, and Dr. Devlin stands up to shake Tate’s hand. Tate, at five-ten, looks down at the doctor. We found a girl passed out at the river this morning, Tate says. She’s bleeding. I’m wondering if this could be an abortion gone awry.

The doctor’s pale face turns ashen. Come in, he says, scanning the hallway before turning to lead Tate into his office.

Before Tate steps through the door, he turns to inspect the hallway. He notices the woman who met him at the front desk hurrying toward the front door. He watches her leave and wonders why she’s in such a rush. Tate steps into the office, and Dr. Devlin shuts the door.

It’s not public knowledge that we perform abortions. It’s something we do after hours as a community service.

Tate almost chokes. Community service?

When the local high school was dubbed ‘Maternity High,’ by national media, the school district reached out to doctors for help.

I bet they were looking more for prevention than abortion, Doc, Tate says.

The man scowls.

Tate reads the nameplate on his walnut desk. Frank Devlin. So, Frank, you offer free abortions to teenagers as your way of helping the community?

No, Frank snaps. They pay. And we don’t advertise it. It’s an option for girls. It’s their choice.

I see, Tate says. Any chance you botched one this morning and sent a girl off to live with her choice while she bled out at the river?

Frank squints his eyes. Not a chance. I perform abortions in the evenings from four to six. I don’t do them any other time. I have patients to see, if you don’t mind.

Tate studies the doctor before he leaves. No wonder the guy has to offer massages and pedicures if this is how he and his receptionist treat people. Something is off about this place, and Tate has a feeling this won’t be his last encounter with Dr. Devlin.

Chapter 2

Desiree

MY HEAD THROBS, and I’m trying to open my eyes, but I can’t. I feel this sense of urgency to get up and do something important, but my pounding head makes it impossible to concentrate. I can’t remember what I should be doing.

I drift in and out of consciousness. I feel drugged and woozy, like I’m trying to pull myself out of this darkness, but I can’t do it. Instead of moving forward, I feel myself slipping backward to the time when this all began.

LAST YEAR, I went out for a run one sunny May afternoon when I wandered into a clearing and gasped when I saw a blonde boy sitting on a boulder, holding a fishing pole.

Oh, sorry, I said. I didn’t know anyone was here. I wanted to run away because I’d been told all of my life to stay away from strangers.

The boy looked equally startled. I was just fishing, he said.

Obviously, I answered, but I didn’t mean to sound sarcastic. I had so little experience talking to kids my age that I got nervous. I mean, it’s a nice day for it. I remembered my manners.

He stood up and hopped off of the rock. Yeah. It is.

We stood there awkwardly, facing each other. I immediately liked his bright green eyes and the way his skin looked tan against his blonde hair. I was supposed to run away, but he mesmerized me.

Uh, I’m Danny, the boy said as he held out his hand.

I reached out and shook his hand, and I almost jerked back. Something about touching him made my hand tingle and my stomach flip. I didn’t know if it was fear or excitement.

My name’s Desiree, I said. I live over there. I pointed toward my house, which was not visible through the trees. Then I realized, too late, I should never, ever tell a stranger where I live.

Danny dusted off the back of his jeans and leaned his pole against a tree. I just moved here. I live that way. About a mile from here.

Where’d you come from? I asked.

Rainbow Falls.

Where’s that?

Close to Estes Park. It’s a little town in the Rocky Mountains.

Why’d you move here? I asked.

Long story, Danny said as he looked away from me and into the sky. I followed his gaze to a canopy of bright green aspen leaves in the foreground of a perfect blue sky.

We stood there wrapped in an awkward silence for a while. I knew I should have gone home, but I’d been so lonely lately that I didn’t want to obey my paranoid mother. I wanted to make a friend. Fighting against my fear of people and my shy nature, I asked, Will you go to the high school?

Yeah. I’ll be a senior. What about you?

I’ll be a senior, too, I said.

Maybe we’ll have some classes together.

I shook my head, but I didn’t want to tell him I was homeschooled. I don’t know why. I just didn’t want him to think I was weird or different.

Okay, then, Danny said, staring at his feet. I think he was as shy as I was. Again, we stood in an uncomfortable silence.

I was about to leave when Danny started talking again. Um, I stay with Nichole Madrid. About a mile that way. Do you know her? Or her daughter, Emma?

I shook my head again, wishing I knew them so we would have something to talk about, but I didn’t know anyone.

How about Logan Chadwick? He’s the middle school principal and the high school baseball coach. He’s friends with Nichole, Danny said as he dropped his eyes. How come you don’t know Mr. Chadwick? Seems like everybody here knows him.

I shrugged. I’m homeschooled, I mumbled, staring at my feet.

Oh. You don’t look too happy about it, Danny said. You wanna’ sit down while I fish?

Sure, I said, knowing my parents would be furious with me for talking with a stranger. I never disobeyed them, but I was angry that morning. My mother had thrown another one of her tantrums because I’d forgotten to scrape a plate before I put it in the dishwasher. I just wanted out of that house where I could be free to make my own decisions and have some friends.

Danny grabbed his fishing pole and climbed up onto the boulder that had just enough seating for two. Then he reached out his hand to help me up. I felt tingly and clumsy. My breathing became short and rapid. I had no idea what was wrong with me, but something about being so close to Danny made me feel strange. In a good way.

So, I take it you don’t like home schooling?

I think I would if I could meet with a group sometimes, I said. They have a home school co-op here where kids take classes together. They even have sports teams. I wish I could be on their track team because I love to run.

Why can’t you? Danny asked after casting his line