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What if I get there and she’s gone?
What if she’s even worse than when Finley left?
What if she’s better and Finley missed it?
That last one I seriously doubt considering she was arrested on drug possession. But there’s one question that sounds louder than all the others. The one that’s been eating at me all day.
Would Finley be okay with this?
She made her wishes known before she died. She had no desire to see or contact her mom, even in her final days. I just don’t know if it’s that she really didn’t want her mom to know or if it’s that she didn’t want her mom to give her one last chance to disappoint her.
Either way, there’s no going back now. I’ve committed to seeing this through and that’s exactly what I plan to do.
“You ready?” I look up to see Claire is already standing, her carryon bag slung over her shoulder.
“As ready as I’ll ever be.” I push out of the chair, grabbing my bag off the floor before following her to the loading gate.
——
We arrive in Rock Hilljust after seven in the evening. It’s muggy and much warmer than I expected it to be. The drive to the police station has been a quiet one. I think Claire, like myself, is nervous about what we’re going to find once we arrive.
When the Uber slows outside of the police station, I’m not sure if I want to get out or to tell him to drive me back to the airport. Claire doesn’t give me the chance to choose because the moment the car stops she’s climbing out.
“Well, this is it.” She steps up next to me as soon as I exit the car.
“This is it.”
“It’s now or never.” She loops her arm through mine and together we make our way into the police station.
We have to jump through a few hoops in order to get to see Cherie. One of which involves Claire lying and saying she’s her daughter and I’m her son-in-law. I didn’t feel good about it, but it wasn’t all a lie. Technically, I really am her son–in-law, although it feels weird to think that when I’ve never met the woman.
We’re taken to a nearby room and have to wait nearly thirty minutes before a knock sounds against the door. My stomach twists into tight knots as it swings open and an officer steps inside, followed by a woman I’d never guess as Finley’s mom if I didn’t know otherwise.
She looks nothing like her daughter. Where Finley was dark hair and perfect skin, her mother is gray, wrinkled, and severely strung out looking. She looks at Claire first and then her eyes move to mine. When she meets my gaze, it takes everything in me not to lose the contents of my stomach. Her stare is vacant, detached, like she wouldn’t know who we were even if she actually knew us.
I know instantly that coming here was a mistake.
“You have ten minutes,” the officer informs us once Cherie is seated at the far end of the table, caddy corner from both Claire and I who are sitting on opposite sides.
The door slams closed, leaving an eerie silence in its wake.
“Do I know you?” Cherie finally speaks, her voice strained and hoarse.
“Cherie, I’m Claire Roberts. I’m your daughter, Finley’s sister,” Claire starts, approaching her cautiously.
“Finley.” A flash of recognition crosses her face before the blank stare returns.
“Yes, Finley,” Claire continues. “This is her husband, Abel.” She gestures to me and the woman’s eyes slide in my direction again.
“My Finley isn’t married.” She narrows her gaze at me.
“She did get married.” Claire draws her attention back to her.
“Where is she? Where’s my daughter?” Her voice goes up and she starts looking around the room like someone is going to jump out of the walls and attack her.
“That’s why we’re here, Cherie. We’ve been looking for you for a very long time. We wanted to tell you sooner, but we didn’t know how to find you.”
“Tell me what?” she barks, growing irritated. “What do you want? Why are you here?”
