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“Jesus, you should have called me first, Ella,” she chastised and started looking around frantically, which is when she finally noted my presence. For some reason, her eyes filled with even more fear.
I tried not to let my annoyance show, but I was getting really sick of her being afraid of me.
“I have to—” she muttered, struggling to find the words. “My son.”
I nodded. “Let’s go,” I said, grabbing her bag from the couch.
“Wait.” Faith came forward and hugged her. Her eyes were understanding and sympathetic, not asking for an explanation. “I’ll try and find him on my end, okay?”
I didn’t know what she was talking about, but it made Kayla nod. She said a hurried goodbye to everyone else in the house, and within the next few minutes, we were in the car, speeding back onto the highway.
Kayla was biting her nails as we drove, anxiety in every line of her body. I knew from experience that every worst-case scenario was probably running through her mind at this point, sending her into a tailspin of panic.
“What happened?” I asked to distract her from her thoughts. Also, to get an idea of what to expect in case we had to take a detour to find the kid ourselves.
She glanced at me and then away. She seemed to think long and hard about it before she finally answered.
“It’s my son,” she said. “His babysitter…according to her, she left him in the car for a few seconds to run and get something from the store, and when she came back, he was gone.”
“How old is he?” She glanced at me and then turned away.
“He’s a baby,” she responded. “Just now toddling.”
“And she left him in the car?” That sounded like a colossally bad idea. With him being a toddler, it would also mean he would have to have been conceived about a year ago, around the time when we met. She might have met the father a little after me. An irrational feeling that felt a little like jealousy sparked within me, but I tossed it aside. There was no point in holding on to that right now.
“So he couldn’t have gotten away on his own.”
Kayla nodded. “Yes.”
“You think someone has taken him?”
Her jaw clenched, and she nodded again.
“You have an idea of who took him, don’t you?” I said, and she looked caught, trying to decide whether or not to tell me something important.
“It’s okay,” I reassured her. “You can trust me.”
“Oh, really?” Her tone was accusatory, her eyes flashing in anger when she turned to me. “Can Ireallytrust you?”
I cocked an eyebrow at her sarcastic tone. What on earth had I done to do this woman? “Care to explain what you meant by that?”
“I can’t stand hypocrites. You know that? And I’m tired of this fucking game you’re playing as if you’re not working for him.”
“Working for who?”
“My father!”
That was not at all what I expected her to say. “And who the hell is your father?”
Disbelief and fury filled her gaze. Then, she took in a deep breath and let it out, continuing in a much calmer tone that still trembled with emotion.
“Look,” she said. “Just give him back, okay? Please, I’ll do anything. My son is all I have.”
“You think I took your son?” It was such an astonishing conclusion that I nearly laughed. But she didn’t look like she was joking at all. Her expression was half pleading, half resigned as she continued, “Look, I’ll go with you, okay? I’ll go peacefully, and I won’t fight anymore. I don’t care what he does to me, but you have to give me back my son.”
“You’re not kidding about this.” I regarded her with confusion. “You really think I have your son.”
She looked up at me woefully, sincerity in the lines of her face. I would have suspected that she had lost her mind, but I never noticed any traces of insanity until now. She spoke seriously like she believed every word that was coming out of her mouth. Like it was a reasonable conclusion to come to.
