She quickly grabbed the laptop and tiptoed to the room next door. Aquilla felt a rush of emotions when she entered Julius’s room. She could smell his cologne. There was a white shirt hanging over the chair, like he would be back at any moment. Julius wasn’t coming back for her. He would have done it by now.
She took a deep breath and opened his closet. She exchanged her purple laptop for his on the top shelf. She smiled, thinking how pissed he was when he had gotten the same purple laptop as her. Romano had ordered them both and had forgotten to change the color on his. She took his buttoned up shirt from the chair and slid it on and quickly walked back to her room.
She was sitting on her bed brushing out her hair when Seri returned.
“You need to pack some things, Quill,” she explained in a sad tone. She hated to be the one to do this to her. She was taking her from the only home she knew, and although Romano and Julius were the bad guys, Aquilla loved them. They were her family, the only family she’d ever known.
“I don’t want to go to New York, Seri. Can’t I just go to your house?”
Seri smiled. “You’re not going to New York. Your mother lives in Connecticut now.”
“Connecticut?”
“Yes. Your father still lives in New York, but your mother is a second grade school teacher in Connecticut.”
“Where do you live?”
“New York is where I live when I am home.”
“Take me there,” Aquilla begged.
“I can’t take you to my house, Quill. You need to go home to your mother she has waited a very long time for this.”
Aquilla took a long deep breath. “Will you go with me?”
Seri smiled. “Yes, I’m going to stay with you for a bit.”
“You are!?!”
Seri didn’t have the heart to tell her it wasn’t by her choice. She needed a friend, somebody that understood her, not that that somebody was her, but she would try.
Chapter 8
“Reese! Answer the door,” Elizabeth Rimmer called to her daughter as she stirred the pasta sauce. She didn’t answer.
Liz grumbled at the loud music spilling downstairs as she walked to the front door. She opened it puzzled when she saw the two black suited men standing on her doorstep.
“Can I help you?” she asked, drying her hands on the dish towel.
“Are you Elizabeth Rimmer?”
“Yes,” she cautiously spoke, wondering why the government vehicle was parked in her driveway.
They both flashed badges. “I’m Lieutenant Carter, and this is my partner Wayne Slater.”
“What can I do for you?” she asked with an inquiring expression.
“Can we come in Ms. Rimmer?”
“Um, can I ask what this is about?”
“It’s about your daughter.”
Elizabeth turned and looked upstairs toward the music and her daughter’s room. “My daughter? You do realize she is only 15, right?”
“Not that daughter, Ms. Rimmer. This is about Shelby.”
Oh, God. She was always afraid of this day. She had always known she would be. Where did they find her? She was silently praying that they hadn’t dug her little body up in the backyard or under the concrete of some pervert’s basement. Should they bury her remains? She already had a plot with her name on the stone. They buried a small white casket with tiny pink roses filled with her favorite things two years after she was taken.
“Ms. Rimmer?” the sophisticated looking man called, breaking her from her psychotic episode.
“Uh?”
“May we come in?”
“Sure,” she replied, waving the dishtowel toward the sofa.
Both men sat on the couch while she sat across from them. She wished they would just tell her and stop dallying around about it. Or was she the one doing that?
“We’ve found your daughter, Ms. Rimmer.”
“Okay, did you find whoever took her too?” That was the important question. She didn’t need to hear about how they found her. She couldn’t handle the news about how they found her wrapped naked in a trash bag. The sudden chills up her back caused her to quiver, thinking about it.
“Yes, he was shot and killed yesterday.”
She gasped. They really did find him? She wasn’t expecting to feel the emotions flood through her the way that they were. It had been so many years. Shelby would have turned 17, a couple of weeks ago.
“Where is her body?” She felt the tears burn as she tried to keep them intact.
“Ms. Rimmer, Shelby is alive. She will be on a plane coming home to you, tomorrow.”
Elizabeth dropped back in the chair. She was going to faint. What did he say?
The lieutenant took his phone from his pocket. He opened up his text messages and retrieved the one from Agent Strokes.
“Ms. Rimmer?” he spoke, handing her his phone. “The agent in charge of Shelby took this picture of her just this morning.”
Liz sat up and took the phone. “Oh God,” she said, covering her mouth as the floodgates holding the tears broke. She couldn’t breathe. She sucked in air that wasn’t there.
Both the agents had seen some pretty shocked faces during their careers, but this was different. They exchanged a worried look while Liz tried to catch her breath.
“Ms. Rimmer?” the agent spoke, coming to her side.
She coughed and wheezed as she pulled in every breath she could pull. “My…wheeze…cough….wheeze….my purse,” she pointed to the purse hanging on the hook behind the door.
He grabbed her purse and she rummaged through it, finally finding her life line. She took a long draw on the inhaler, slowed her breathing and did it again.
“I’m sorry,” she apologized as her breathing regulated. She wanted to ask if this was for real. She didn’t have to. She knew the picture she was holding in her hand was her daughter. Without a doubt, she knew that it was Shelby.
“Did he hurt her?” she asked the dreaded question that had haunted her for years.
“No, ma’am. Shelby has had a good life with him. He treated her well.”
“Why did he do this?” she asked, still looking at the photo in awe.
“I really can’t answer that Ms. Rimmer. Agent Strokes is coming with her. Do you have room for a stowaway?”
“I could make room, sure, but I’m not sure how I feel about some strange man staying in my house.”
He smiled. “Agent Strokes is Sarah Strokes. It seems that Shelby has taken up with her, she won’t talk to anyone but her.” She would talk. From what he heard she told them to fuck off just fine. He wasn’t going to relay that. “Agent Strokes knows more about it than I do. I’m sure she’ll be able to answer more of your questions.”
“Did somebody die?”
“Reese, go back upstairs, please. I’ll explain in little bit,” Liz said, turning to her daughter standing at the bottom of the stairs with a worried look.
“Why?”
“Reese!” Liz scolded.
Reese unwillingly walked back upstairs.
“She looks a lot like Shelby,” Agent Carter acknowledged.
“Oh my God. Is this for real? Is this really happening?” Liz asked in panic mode. She felt the wheeze in her chest and slowed her breathing.
“Your daughter will be home with you tomorrow, I assure you, it’s real.”
“I have to call her dad. I have to get her room ready. My parents, I’ve got to call them.” She was panicking again.
“There is one more thing that you should probably prepare yourself for, Ms. Rimmer,” Agent Carter explained. He seemed to be the one to do all the talking. The other one just sat there. She wondered if he was his boss. And then wondered why she was even thinking about that. Because she was freaking out, that’s why. She didn’t know what to think. Why did he keep calling her Ms. Rimmer? Breathe Liz, Breathe.