Jonathan's POV
My head was a fuzz of emotions, flashbacks of them, and regret was weighing in on my heart.
As the doorbell rang, I jolted out of the bed and ran towards the door.
My heart stopped.
"It's them!"
"They're back!"
"Nicky…"
I swung open the door with a big smile.
It was – the milk man.
"Good morning." he said. "Are you Mr. Rollings?"
"Yes…"
I said with a hope that maybe she told him something.
"Here's today's milk," he said. "Miss. Smith said you will be here. So, do I continue to deliver or not?"
"Yes," I said, taking the bottle. "Don't stop. If you want I can pay in advance."
"No, the usual is fine."
"Nicky," I said as tears welled up in my eyes. "Even when you left you worried about me, and I…I will win your forgiveness."
"Are you okay?"
"Yes,"
I knew why he said that, the bags under my eyes were evident.
The whole night I had this weird dream.
First Veronica kept fading and Imelda appeared. Then I saw Janet calling a shadowy image 'Daddy'.
I woke up saying, "I'm alive. Janet daddy is here."
I washed my face and made a sandwich and a cup of tea.
I couldn't work on an empty stomach and I needed all of my strength if I was to bring them back.
I began making calls first thing.
This time I told everyone that I was her husband, and the reason I hid it was to protect her.
I can't tell the real reason, but at least some of them did tell me what she was planning.
After analyzing the facts, I realized the number was the only solid lead I had.
I replayed the CCTV footage. Unfortunately it was a side view of the taxi. But I managed to see Veronica handing five hundred dollar bills.
As far as I knew, that meant she went somewhere at least a hundred miles from here.
"Were you so desperate, you went so far?"
"Taxifare Service," I said. "That's the only place that can tell me where she is."
I got up, picked my keys and drove off to the agency.
I stopped in front of the TaxiFare agency.
"I want to speak to whoever has authority here."
"And you are?"
"Rollings," I said. "Jonathan Rollings. CEO of Rollings Designs."
I have to use my identity if I'm to find them.
"Mr. Rollings?" the owner said. "What brings you here?"
I passed a note towards him.
"One-five-D-G?"
"Yes," I said. "That's all the security guard could remember."
"Mr. Rollings," he said. "No offence, but this isn't enough." "I mean I have about fifty plus taxis and you know 'one-five' is our city code and 'D-G' is for taxis. If I could have the last alphabet and number—" "If I had those, why would I come here?"
"Oh yes," I said, recalling the CCTV footage.
"Sorry," he said. "Mr. Rollings. But face for me has no value. Every driver has an ID card, and some even send others when they have some work."
"Okay," I said. "If that's how. Show me your ride logs. NOW."
I emphasized on the now.
Being a second-rate service, their system wasn't much updated, but I still managed to jot down around fifteen taxis.
After ten calls.
Wrong.
Wrong.
Wrong.
Each one sounded as if I found the one.
Only to realize it's wrong.
I was back on square one.
Again the others…same thing.
Only one of them was busy on the phone.
I almost gave up but the busy one called me back.
"What??!" I was shocked. "Are you sure?"
"Mr. Rollings," he said. "I'm not sure, but the time you're telling, and the people, I do recall them. A frail, good-looking woman and a seven year old girl, two suitcases. As for the location, I think I dropped them over at Avenue seventy-eight. But whether it was street four-A, or Five-A, I don't remember as the intersection is the same."
"I hope that can help you."
"Yes," I said as my heart was beating faster than usual.
"You've helped me more than I expected."
Again I got into my car and drove to the location.
I knew when I saw her paying five hundred to the taxi guy, she went far, but a hundred and forty miles.
After a two hour drive, I finally reached the intersection the driver told me about.
Now I understood what he meant.
If you don't keep your eye on the passenger, you really won't know.
But I had to check both.
I first went to street four-A.
A total of seventy-five homes. The newest tenant was also three years old.
Then I went over to street Five-A.
The same, no one knew, but then I found one of the houses did receive a guest.
She came to visit her mother along with her daughter.
And she also had a frail look as she just delivered her, whom she left back with her husband.
But, my visit wasn't all in vain as I met another taxi driver who recalled picking a woman and a girl from the same building and dropping them at avenue Lou Lane.
Again I drove over like a crazy madman, and arrived at Lou Lane.
I went house to house checking if she was there.
Again no one knew about them.
Again wrong address.
As I got onto my car, I banged my hands on the steering wheel.
I ran my hands through my hair.
I let out a deep breath as something dawned upon me.
Apart from the first driver, the other one didn't sound certain. Matter of fact, he even felt insecure when he was speaking.
The details he gave me almost derailed me from the original track.
"From what I saw," I said, recalling. "She clearly gave five hundred bills. So, she couldn't have gone further than a two hour drive, unless she took another cab from there. And, with Janet, she wouldn't take the risk of going to a totally unknown place."
"Something about this…falls off."
Every lead was a close end.
Too much to be a coincidence.
It's like I was being guided…
Just enough to keep going on…
But not really finding her.
Somehow the information I've been getting seems controlled.
The intention is to make sure I don't get a clear location.
But who?
I knew it couldn't be Veronica.
"This isn't a random move."
My jaws tightened.
"It's more than this."
But what.
Seeing the day was caving in, I decided to go back home.
As I reached the door, I saw it was open.
I ran as I thought they would come back.
"Nicky! Janet!" I called them out. "I knew you wouldn't leave me!"
"What?" Imelda said as I entered.
"So my information is right." she said, slowly watching me. "She finally left."
She didn't look surprised, rather satisfied.
"Imelda??"
"Okay," she said as she poured herself some water.
"Fill me in on what happened."
I knew this wasn't a question from a person who wanted to know what happened, but rather a curiosity as for her Veronica was a simple housewife who was capable of nothing.
"Well," I sat on the chair in front of her.
I began to recall the things that happened.
I told her about the half empty closets, the missing packed bags, her number being deactivated two days back. Transfer of Janet from her school with no mention of the next school.
Last, the taxi number that wasn't complete, and then the locations that turned out to be dead ends.
"She didn't leave me any trace…like she just removed them."
"So, what are you planning now?" She asked with a care-damn look.
I went quiet as she asked.
I don't know why, but I felt uneasy with Imelda asking about Veronica. There was something in her tone that seemed off, but I just couldn't pin-point it.
I leaned back into the chair and held my head back.
I let all the information I had on her absorb into me.
"Ever since we got married, she only had a few friends, but when they kept asking about me, she stopped meeting them. After that she only had two-three friends who didn't bother. But they already told me they don't know."
"If she has no place to go, then where can she go?"
I sat upright.
"What's the matter?" Imelda asked, but I waved my hand, gesturing it's nothing.
But the reality is a thought came into my mind.
Could it be possible someone is helping her?
She was fine before she got the job, could her independence be the cause.
Maybe she was right.
Imelda never gave her a decent pay.
That's why she had to bear along, as she didn't have the money to do anything.
Now she got a job and overnight managed to handle so many things.
But who could have helped her?
It can't be anyone at work as she barely worked there for a few weeks.
"Oh, Jonathan," Imelda said, a little annoyed. "Let's go."
"Go?" I said, confused. "Where?"
"To your mansion, of course," she said implying. "Now, don't tell me you're staying in this dump."
"Imelda," I said in a cold, frank voice. "This dump is the place Veronica and I built my business dream. It's this dump that Veronica stayed in, while I stayed at the mansion. If I don't get Veronica back, that mansion is equal to a dumpster for me."
"Jonathan," she said, brushing her hair back. "You're overreacting. Now—"
I got up and held my arm towards the door.
"It's getting late."
Imelda's departure only made me more curious.
She never liked Veronica from the beginning.
Could she have…
So far every lead led to nowhere.
Now I was sure it wasn't cause she handled it properly.
The reason is…she really didn't want me to know.
Or the one helping didn't want me to know.
She didn't just leave.
My voice dropped.
"…or someone made her disappear."