Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight

Steve had become a shadow of himself — from a bright, funny dad to someone who just stayed home and drank. Kate had been by his side, caring for him and Henry. It broke her heart to see Steve this broken. But she knew why, Love could hurt sometimes.

He had waited an entire month for a message from Mia, but got nothing. He had tried to look for her, but he didn’t even know where to begin. He searched online, pulling up mafia family photos, scanning through every face in hopes of finding hers. He didn’t know if she was still in the country or…

All he wanted was to see her again. Just to know that she was okay.

He opened her wardrobe and held her clothes tight, burying his face in them and inhaling her scent. Tears streamed down his cheeks. He was frustrated — no, he was beyond that. He punched the wall until his fists began to bleed. Then he grabbed the vase from the table and hurled it to the floor.

It shattered.

And there, among the shards of glass, lay Mia’s phone.

He and Kate had been looking for that phone. Kate had said Mia left with nothing, so it had to be somewhere in the house. All this time, it had been hidden inside the vase.

Steve snatched it up and tried to power it on, but the battery was dead. He rushed to the wall socket, stepping barefoot on broken glass. Blood trailed behind him, but he didn’t care. He plugged the phone in, turned it on, and unlocked it. He had always known her password — Henry’s birthdate.

The lock screen lit up with a picture of them — her bright eyes, her warm smile. That smile was real. There was no way she hadn’t felt something for him.

He opened her messages. The top message was from the day she left.

Cheryl Fields, Alberta. Jet is waiting and the time is ticking.

He dialed the number, but it was out of service. Without wasting time, he grabbed his own phone and looked up the number for air traffic control.

“Hello, Air Traffic Control, how may we help you?” a soft female voice answered.

“Please, I need information on a jet that left Cheryl Fields, Alberta on the 5th of April. I need to know where it went,” Steve said, pacing.

“I’m sorry, sir, but we can’t give out that information,” she said calmly.

“Please,” he begged, “I don’t know where the mother of my child is. I need to find her. We need to know she’s safe.”

There was a long pause, then a sigh. “This is against protocol, but... I’ll do it for the child.”

Steve held his breath.

“The jet went to the U.S.,” she said.

“Where exactly in the U.S.?” he asked quickly.

“This is really against the rules... but it went to New York,” she replied, then hung up.

It was something. A lead. A starting point.

He booked a flight immediately. Threw some clothes into a bag. Bandaged his bleeding feet. Then he scribbled a quick note to Kate and headed to the airport.

____________

Kate arrived at Steve’s place to check in on him. Her heart sank when she opened the door and saw shattered glass and blood on the floor. She was about to call the police when she spotted a piece of paper on the table.

Sorry for the mess. I left in a hurry and couldn’t clean up.

I now know where to look for Mia, but I can’t tell you just yet.

I really need to do this. I know you’re hurting too, trying to stay strong for me and Henry.

She was your best friend, and you loved her. We all do.

I’m fine. The blood is from a small scratch.

Take care of Henry. I love you.

Kate sank into the couch. Mia had warned them not to come looking for her — said it was dangerous. But she knew she couldn’t stop Steve, even if she tried. And honestly… she needed answers too.

_______________

Eileen walked up to José in his home office. A bottle of whiskey sat on the table beside one of his large cigars.

“Can I please go out?” she asked.

He looked at her for a few seconds, as if he was staring into her soul.

“Where would you want to go this late? Planning another escape?” he asked, lighting the cigar.

“No. I just want to go out. It’s been weeks, and I haven’t stepped outside these gates,” she said.

“But where would you go?”

“I don’t know… maybe the bar or something.”

“There’s better quality liquor here than at any bar,” he said, shrugging.

Eileen stayed quiet, but he could see the frustration burning in her eyes.

“Well, yes, you can,” he said eventually. “You’re not a prisoner here. Mike will drive you.”

“More like watch me,” she muttered.

“Maybe,” José replied with a smirk. “Don’t do anything stupid. Trust me — he already hates you. He’s just looking for an excuse to hurt you.”

Eileen’s plan had been to go to the police — to find the detective — but with Mike breathing down her neck, that was out of the question.

She sat quietly in the backseat, enjoying the fresh night air through the window. She could see Mike watching her from the rearview mirror, his eyes full of hatred.

Her plan was ruined. But at least she could still enjoy the beauty of the night.

She ordered a glass of whiskey at the bar. The smell, the music — it made her think of Steve. There was a time when the two of them would go for drinks after work. So much had changed.

Mike sat in the corner with a beer, watching her like a hawk.

“Can I get my usual?” a woman said behind her, her voice clear and firm. Eileen turned slightly and saw a blonde woman in a police uniform. A man in uniform stood behind her.

Eileen’s heart skipped. She didn’t have to go to the police station to find the detective — the police came here. They were regulars.

She couldn’t approach them now — not with Mike staring her down — but this was good. This was very good.

Maybe one day the female officer would go to the restroom alone, and she could talk to her in private. Or maybe next time, José would send someone else, someone who isn't Mike to drive her.

Until then, she’d be a regular at this bar too. And she’d wait patiently… for her chance.