Chapter 13 – Road Trip (Part Two)

“You sure this is the place?”

Adeline slowly released her seatbelt, letting it retract back into the seat.

“I think so,” Stephanie said as she stared at the eggshell-colored house in front of them. She let her own seatbelt retract as she stared at the green vines climbing up the lattice framing of the front porch, the blooming mums surrounding the house, and the aging white, wooden fence around the property. “That's just creepy. I really was kidding about the white-picket fence thing, you know.”

“This is the South,” Addy responded. “I'm pretty sure it's a requirement to have a white-picket fence if you're going to live in the suburbs.”

“Isn't it also a requirement in the South to own several guns in case two random strangers show up on your doorstep asking personal questions?” Stephanie asked nervously.

“I hope not,” Addy said. “I mean, Lance's parents don't own guns.”

“Lance's parents are...well, Lance's parents,” Stephanie said. “Lance wouldn't even know what to do with a gun if you gave him one.”

“I think he proved you wrong when, you know, my ex-husband broke into our house and held us at gunpoint,” Addy said. “I don't know, Mel didn't seem like the type to be raised by crazy, gun-toting parents, did she?”

“No, from what I saw at the party, a glass of bourbon was Mel's weapon of choice,” Stephanie said. “Are you sure we should be doing this? I mean, these people don't know us from Adam. What if they call the cops?”

“Well,” Addy said, resting her hand on the door handle, “Lance only said to make sure there were no cameras or paps around if we got arrested. Do you see any cameras or paps?”

Stephanie opened her mouth to answer, but Addy had already opened the door and started stepping out.

“You're really willing to scare the crap out of two people, be ostracized, and possibly be arrested or shot in order to find Melissa?” she asked as she stepped out of the driver's side door. “Addy, isn't this a little crazy?”

Addy rested her arms on top of the car, looking at Stephanie.

“What would you want me to do if one day, you went missing, Steph?” she asked.

“Let the police handle it,” Stephanie said. “And let whatever will be, just...be.”

Adeline narrowed her eyebrows.

“I refuse to leave Arkansas until I find her,” she said. “I refuse to leave until she tells me personally, from her own mouth, that she left New York because she didn't want to be with Chris. Until then...I will never believe that she left on her own, because she wanted to. You can help me, or you can choose not to. Regardless of your choice...I'm doing this.”

Stephanie jumped as Addy slammed the car door and stormed away toward the fence gate.

“And Lance thinks that I'm the crazy one,” she said to herself as she shut her car door.

She followed Addy through the gate, listening to the sound of both of their feet crunching on the gravel underneath them. She had been on board with this idea, even though from the minute Addy asked her to help she thought it was insane to put themselves out there so far to complete strangers. Now, she thought it was even more insane.

As soon as Stephanie stepped up next to her on the porch, they exchanged a brief, nervous glance, before Adeline lifted her fist to the door, knocking loudly several times.

They were both surprised when only a few seconds later, unprepared, they heard footsteps and a click, before a middle-aged brunette woman appeared at the door.

“Can I help you?” she asked.

“Hi,” Addy said nervously. “My name is Adeline, and this is my friend Stephanie. We're looking for Melissa Weston.”

The lady, whom Addy could see Mel's features in, cocked her head slightly as she wiped her hands on a dish towel.

“I'm sorry, Melissa isn't here,” she said. “Is there somethin' I can help ya with?”

“I apologize for being so forward,” Addy said. “Melissa is my friend – our friend. She's gone missing. I'm trying desperately to find her.”

Addy and Stephanie saw the woman's face fall slightly.

“Come in, girls,” she said, opening the door fully. “I'll make coffee. Then we'll talk.”

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Melissa leaned her forehead against the metal wall of the walk-in fridge, sniffling and trying to dry the tears away. Goosebumps from the cold had started to form on her skin, and she could feel the blonde hairs standing on end, but she didn't care. At least it was an escape.

It was one thing to be surprised by seeing Lance on TV that day when she didn't expect it, but it was something she could get through. Over the last month and a half, she had become numb to seeing them pop up in random places – on her television, in the magazines and tabloids while she waited in the checkout at the grocery store, on the radio while she was at work. It was something she had to get used to – not only had Gina become quite an obsessive fan of them lately, but Derek waved their presence in her face every chance he got.

But seeing the premiere of the video of the song – her song – and realizing they had put together a compilation of home videos that they had put together over the last two years...it was like a big, fat punch to the stomach.

At the same time, it felt like a cry – a cry from Addy, a cry from the boys – that they knew she would see. A message – come back, Mel.

“Melly?”

Hearing Gina's voice, Melissa quickly wiped away the stray tears before turning around.

“I'm over here,” she said, turning around and leaning her back against the metal wall, hoping to look as if she were taking a casual break.

Gina appeared in front of the stack of boxes Melissa was hiding behind.

“I's just comin' to check on ya,” Gina said. “Ya sure rushed outta there like lightnin'.”

“Just takin' my break,” Melissa said quietly.

“In the fridge?” Gina asked with a slight smile, rubbing a hand against her arm, feeling the cold.

“It was hot out there,” Melissa responded, hanging her head. “Didn't you notice I was sweatin' like an old man in a steam room?”

“No, but I sure did notice ya start crying the minute ya saw yourself on the TV,” Gina said. “Mel, tell me the truth. What's goin' on? That was you in the video, wadn't it?”

“I'm sure it was jus' someone who looked like me,” Mel said. “They say everybody has a twin, right?”

“A twin who looks jus' like ya, in an NSYNC video?” Gina asked. “I may not be the brightest light bulb in the package, but I'm not stupid enough ta believe that was a coincidence – 'specially after the way ya ran outta here cryin' like ya did.”

“What's your point, Gina?” Mel asked shortly.

“My point is,” Gina said, “Vic may have a stick up'er ass lately, but she's right. Ya showed up here in Little Rock outta nowhere, no job, no money, some big important degree from that fancy-pants school in New York. Nobody knows anythin' 'bout ya, 'bout your past, ya don't tell anyone why ya moved from New York back to podunk Arkansas when ya could've had everythin' stayin' where ya were.”

“New York wasn't everything,” Mel said. “I missed my family, I missed my friends. Nothin' to figure out, Gina.”

“You're a liar,” Gina said, stopping Mel from walking away by grabbing her arm. “Ya haven't visited your family or your friends – hell, ya haven't even talked about 'em once since ya been working here, Mel.”

“Yeah?” Melissa said, raising her voice. “So what? So I'm s'posed to go on and on and on about how wonderful my life out here is? Like I'm so fuckin' blessed now that I've left New York and moved back to 'podunk' Arkansas? I'm so fuckin' happy leavin' everything I had behind in New York?”

“I know you're not happy,” Gina said. “I can tell. All I want is for ya to talk 'bout it – 'cause ya never do.”

“What's there to talk about?” Mel said. Her voice had raised and the tears had started rolling again. “I had a beautiful apartment where I finally felt safe. I had the best friend anyone could ask for, that I could talk to about anything. Her husband was more like a brother to me, someone that had my back no matter what. I had the best boyfriend in the entire world, someone I would give my life for. Someone I loved.”

“And he loved you,” Gina said.

“Yeah, Chris loved me,” Mel responded. “And I broke his heart into a million pieces.”

“Why, Mel?

“Because I'm selfish!” Mel yelled. “'Cause I was scared. 'Cause I didn't deserve him. I didn't deserve the life he gave me. Are ya happy now that ya know, Gina?”

Melissa had started to walk away to go back to work, when Gina reached out and grabbed her upper arm tightly, twisting.

Melissa winced and cried out as Gina roughly turned her around, swiftly pulling up the sleeve of her pink work shirt, revealing the fresh bruise on her bicep.

“No, that's why ya left!” Gina yelled, twisting Mel's arm to show her the bruise. She roughly pulled the hem of the shirt out from its tucked-in position in Mel's apron, lifting it enough to reveal another bruise. “And that.”

Before Mel could stop her, she pulled at the collar of her shirt, showing a barely hidden bruise against her collarbone.

“And that,” Gina said. “Ya didn't leave because you were scared of your life in New York. Ya left because you were scared of what would happen if ya didn't come back.”

“I'm a fuckin' klutz,” Melissa responded, yanking herself away from Gina's grasp, trying to tuck her shirt back in and straighten her collar. “I trip. I fall. I run into doors. That's not why I came back to Arkansas.”

Melissa was halfway to the door when she was stopped by Gina's voice.

“We all know, Mel,” she said. “We all know what he does to ya. I know, Vic knows, George knows. We may not be fancy New Yorkers like you and your friends, and we may not be culinary school graduates or geniuses, and we may talk and act like stupid country bumpkins sometimes – but we're smart enough ta know that you're trying to pull the wool over our eyes. And failin' miserably at it.”

Melissa pursed her lips, her hand on the fridge door handle.

“I've got work to do,” she said, glancing back, but not connecting eyes with her coworker. “We both do. So I suggest ya get back to it and mind your own business, Gina.”

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“So this is what life outside the Big City looks like.”

Adeline glanced over and narrowed her eyes at Stephanie.

“Mind the few manners your mother taught you,” she said. Then she glanced over at the man in the recliner across from them, smiling. “I apologize for her.”

“It's not a problem,” Paul said with a smile. “I'm sure it's different, you guys bein' from the city, not bein' used to a simpler lifestyle.”

“I guess it is different,” Adeline said, looking at her surroundings. Paul and Cathie's home was...different from what she was used to. Where Lance had hung their friend Michael's art on the wall above their entertainment center, Paul and Cathie had flowered swags with a gallery of family photos in matching wooden frames. Where Addy was used to sitting on her own leather couch, she now sat on a couch with a fading floral pattern. “I think I've lived in the city so long I forgot what a suburban home looked like.”

“How long has Melissa lived in New York?”

Adeline looked up, seeing Paul's sad eyes.

“Um...a couple years?” she said. “She said she moved there about three months before Lance and I moved back from Los Angeles. That was May...2012.”

“Two years,” Cathie said, coming back into the living room from the kitchen, carrying four mugs on a tray. “Mercy.”

Adeline took the hot mug of coffee from Cathie with a whispered 'thank you'.

“I'm sorry if it's rude of me to ask,” Stephanie said, taking the mug that Cathie offered her, “but...you weren't aware your daughter was even living in New York to begin with?”

“Melissa hasn't spoken to us in over four years,” Cathie said, taking a mug herself and handing one over to her husband, before taking a seat in another recliner across from him. “We're lucky if we hear bits and pieces.”

“We were as shocked as anyone when her teenage cousin saw her on that awards show last year,” Paul said. “With that man.”

“Chris,” Adeline said, reaching into her purse, rifling around for her phone. “His name is Chris.” She unlocked her screen and went to her photos, scrolling through several photos of Liam before she landed on the last photo she had taken of Mel and Chris, at a club. She lifted the phone, placing it in Paul's line of sight. “Chris Kirkpatrick. Her boyfriend.”

“Ex-boyfriend,” Stephanie corrected.

“Not by choice,” Adeline said.

“I'm sorry – not by choice?” Cathie asked.

Adeline and Stephanie glanced at each other.

“We think Melissa may not have left of her own free will,” Stephanie said reluctantly.

“You mean...kidnapped?” Paul said, alarmed.

“We don't know that,” Stephanie said, lifting a hand to calm both tense parents. “The circumstances she left under are...suspicious. At least to Addy.”

“She left a note,” Addy explained. “But Lance and I had a detective, a friend of ours, analyze it.”

“I don't understand,” Cathie said. “If she wasn't kidnapped, if she left on her own, why would the police be involved?”

“They're not,” Addy said with a sigh. “It was only a favor. The police refuse to get involved.”

“The handwriting analysis showed she was under distress when she wrote the note,” Stephanie said. “But nothing more. It doesn't mean that she didn't leave on her own.”

Paul and Cathie exchanged a look, and Cathie briefly looked down at her feet before setting her mug on the coffee table and standing.

“It had ta have been him,” Cathie said.

Adeline watched her walk to the bookcase and run her finger along a few of the spines of the book before coming to a thick, fabric-covered photo album, pulling it out.

“We haven't spoken ta Melissa in four years because of him,” she said, sitting back down and cracking open the spine of the album. “Derek. Melissa's ex-boyfriend. If she's run, you can bet your life that he's involved somehow.”

Cathie sat the photo album on the coffee table, spinning it around and pushing it toward Addy and Stephanie.

“He's always involved somehow,” Cathie said with a whisper.

Both girls leaned in to the table, and Stephanie was the first to gasp when she saw the pictures. Melissa was barely recognizable, between the bruised cheek and the black eye that was swollen shut. Red marks and bruises covered her arms and torso, perfectly shaped like fingerprints. Her ribs...

“Oh my God,” Adeline said, covering her mouth.

“That was a little over a year ago,” Cathie said. “She's the poster child for an abusive relationship. We ran out of money – and hope – a long time ago, trying ta help her. Not for lack of caring. We love her more than words can express.”

“He's got her twisted around his finger too tight for her ta listen to anyone,” Paul said. “He was sent ta prison after that episode happened. He got two years in prison. Two years.”

Adeline could see in his eyes how much it bothered him – anger, frustration, and helplessness.

“He must have gotten parole,” Cathie said. “Overcrowding in prisons, good behavior and all that.”

“Have you talked to her at all?” Addy asked. “Do you have any leads to where she might be?”

“Your guess is good as ours,” Cathie said. “Adeline, darlin', there's something you have to understand about Melissa. When she's under his control...”

There was an eerie silence that fell over the room.

“She's not Melissa anymore,” Paul finally said. “She's not our daughter when she's with him.”

Once again, the room went silent, Cathie hanging her head.

“Addy, I think we should go,” Stephanie said, her voice soft.

“Just one more question,” Addy said. “I'll be leaving on Friday night and in less than two weeks the boys and I will be halfway across the country on tour. I can't leave Arkansas until I see Mel and I know that she's okay. She's shut down her Facebook and Twitter accounts and changed her cell number. Where might she hang out? Work? Anything you can give me.”

Paul and Cathie exchanged a glance, but remained quiet.

“Please,” Addy said. “I need to know.”

“I'm sorry, Adeline,” Cathie said. “I'll walk you girls to the door.”

Cathie pushed herself out of her chair, and Stephanie quickly followed suit, lightly grabbing Addy by the arm to urge her to do the same. Her heart fell to her feet, the thought of leaving the house without any information more than she could bear.

Despite it, she shouldered her purse, glancing once again at the photo album on the table.

“Would you mind if I take one of these pictures?” she quickly asked, looking at Paul, who sat stone-faced in the chair. “I'd like to show it to my friend, the detective. It might be the push he needs to open an official investigation.”

Paul stared at Adeline a moment, before lightly nodding.

“Thank you,” she said softly, leaning down to pull the photo of Melissa's swollen, black eye and cheek out of the sleeve. She slipped it into her purse quietly, nudged next to her wallet in the hope that it wouldn't bend before she placed the strap on her shoulder again and followed Stephanie to the door.

Cathie opened the door, nodding politely as the girls walked out, but Adeline was surprised when she followed them outside, closing the door behind her.

“Melissa always had an interest in food. Cooking, baking,” she said, out of nowhere. “When she was sixteen, she worked part-time at this little dinette in downtown Little Rock, near the drive-in theater. Dinette's closed down now, so's the drive-in.”

Both girls were silent as Cathie paused.

“If you're gonna find her, you'll probably find her working at some diner,” she finally said. “A quiet, hole-in-the-wall type of place, tryin' ta hide away. Somewhere he can watch her every move. Be careful, girls.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Weston,” Addy said.

Cathie reached out, pulling Stephanie into a hug, then Adeline.

“Bless you, Adeline,” she said in Addy's ear, squeezing slightly. “Thank you for what you're doing.”

Adeline wanted to respond, but didn't; what could you say to a mother who was at a loss for how to help her own daughter?

“Drive carefully, girls,” Cathie finally said, releasing Addy. “Little Rock may not be New York, but it has its own dangers.”

“We will, Mrs. Weston,” Stephanie said.

As she backed away and started to turn back towards the door, Adeline thought she saw tears in Cathie's eyes, confirmed when she sniffled.

“Don't be a stranger,” Cathie said, before opening the door and disappearing back into the house.

The girls were quiet as they slowly turned, stepping off the concrete porch and onto the white gravel that lined the sidewalk.

“Hope you got what you wanted,” Stephanie said, her wedge heels crunching on the rocks. “'Cause you just gave that poor mother a one-way ticket to reliving her hellish nightmare.”

Addy only sighed as she followed a few feet behind Stephanie, toward the car.