Chapter 5 - The Departure Terminal
I stood in the empty classroom, clutching Leo’s red coat to my chest. The soft sherpa lining smelled like his strawberry shampoo.
My mother had kidnapped my son.
I pulled out my phone and called her. It went straight to voicemail. I called Vanessa. Voicemail. I called my father, but he answered almost immediately, background noise buzzing behind him.
“Where are they?” I demanded, my voice echoing in the quiet school hallway.
“Rebecca, calm down,” Dad said. He sounded exhausted. “Your mother just called me. She’s taking Leo to the lake house for the weekend. Just to let things cool off. Arthur is threatening to call the police about the money.”
“The lake house is three hours away,” I snapped. “She left his coat. It’s forty degrees outside. She didn't take him to the lake house. Where did they go?”
“I don't know,” Dad said, and for the first time, he sounded genuinely uncertain.
I hung up and opened a tracking app on my phone. Two years ago, Mom had insisted we all share our locations "for safety" after a string of burglaries in her neighborhood. She was too technologically inept to remember to turn it off.
A blue dot pulsed on the map.
She wasn't on the highway heading north to the lake house. She was moving fast, heading south. Toward O'Hare International Airport.
I sprinted back to my car, throwing the coat into the passenger seat. I broke every speed limit getting to the airport. My mind raced. Why would Mom take Leo to the airport? Marcus and Arthur were in Chicago. If they wanted custody, they would file an injunction, not flee the state.
Unless Mom wasn't taking Leo to Marcus.
I arrived at Terminal 5—International Departures. I left my car in the drop-off lane, ignoring the shouting security guard, and rushed inside. The terminal was a sea of people. I frantically checked the departure boards. Flights to London, Paris, Zurich, Tokyo.
I pulled out my phone. The blue dot showed Mom was inside the terminal, near the security checkpoints.
I ran through the crowd, scanning the faces. Then I saw her.
Mom was standing near a concrete pillar, furiously typing on her phone. She was alone.
“Where is he?!” I screamed, grabbing her shoulder and spinning her around.
Mom gasped, dropping her phone. “Rebecca! How did you find me?”
“Where is my son?” I shook her.
“He’s not yours!” she hissed, slapping my hands away. “He belongs to Vanessa. And she is taking him where Arthur Vance can never reach them.”
“What are you talking about?” I demanded. “Arthur wants him. Vanessa is marrying Marcus!”
“Marcus doesn't want Vanessa!” Mom spat, her eyes wild with panic. “Marcus found out about the baby and threatened to ruin our family. He told Arthur about the embezzlement. Arthur was going to send us all to prison and take the boy. Vanessa had to run.”
I looked past her, scanning the security lines. “Where are they flying?”
Mom crossed her arms, a defiant smirk touching her lips. “You’re too late. They’ve already gone through security. You’ll never find them.”
I looked down at the floor. Next to Mom’s dropped phone was a small, rectangular piece of paper. It must have fallen out of her purse when I grabbed her.
I picked it up. It was a printed boarding pass ticket receipt.
The destination wasn't Europe. It was Montreal, Canada.
And the flight didn't board for another forty minutes.
“Gate M12,” I read aloud, looking up at my mother.
Her smirk vanished. “Rebecca, don't. If you stop them, Arthur will destroy us!”
I didn't answer. I turned and ran toward the TSA checkpoint. I didn't have a ticket, but I saw a TSA supervisor standing near the priority lane.
“Please,” I gasped, rushing up to him. “My sister has my adopted son. She’s trying to take him out of the country. Gate M12. You have to stop her.”
The supervisor frowned. “Ma'am, do you have custody papers?”
“He’s my legal son,” I pleaded, pulling out my phone to show him pictures of us. “Please, call the gate. The flight is boarding now.”
He radioed the gate agents. Five agonizing minutes later, he nodded to me. “They pulled her off the jet bridge. They’re bringing them out.”
I stood at the exit of the secure area, my heart pounding. Finally, the glass doors slid open.
Vanessa walked out, clutching Leo’s hand. Leo looked terrified. When he saw me, he broke away from her and ran into my arms.
“Mommy!” he cried, burying his face in my neck.
I held him so tightly my arms ached. “I’ve got you, baby. I’m right here.”
I looked up at Vanessa. She was trembling, tears streaming down her face. But instead of running away, she walked slowly toward me.
She reached into her designer handbag, pulled something out, and pressed it into my hand.
“I didn't want to go,” Vanessa whispered, her voice cracking. “She made me. She makes me do everything.”
I looked down at what she had given me.
May you like
It was our mother’s silver rosary. The one she took to Mass every Sunday to perform the role of the pious matriarch.
“Look at the center bead,” Vanessa said softly. “Press it.”
