Until I Find You - Rea Frey Page 0,74

hardest thing I had to contend with was sleeplessness and nightmares about Jackson.

I listen to Crystal talk to the contractor about pushing the dates back. I’d taken such joy in picking out cabinets, countertops, and hardware—as if having a nice kitchen would somehow make my life better. But isn’t that a start? And now, all of it is irrelevant. My son is what matters. Not this house or the memories in it. I need to take action. I need to act now.

“Rebecca?” There’s another knock.

I walk to the front hallway. “Jess?”

“Hey.” She lets herself in. “I was worried when I didn’t hear from you. Are you okay?” She pulls me into a hug, and my edges soften a bit.

“Sorry about that.” Crystal walks to join us. “I told him we’d need to push out a bit. Hi, Jess.”

“I’m so sorry,” I say to Crystal. “You’ve worked so hard.”

“Don’t apologize.” Her keys jingle in her hand. “Listen, you and Jess stay here. I’m going to Cornerstone, okay? I’ll report back.”

I shake my head. “No, I really want to come.”

“What’s Cornerstone?” Jess asks.

I fill Jess in and show her the onesie.

She examines it. “I feel like I’ve seen these before. Wait, I’ve been to this shop. The owner, what’s her name?” She snaps. “Patty? Betsy? She’s the best. I’ve been in there a few times.”

“Can you come with us?”

Crystal is silent as Jess contemplates. “I guess, if you think it will help.”

I nod. “I do. I’ll go get the baby.” I’m already heading for the stairs. I feel bad about putting him in the car yet again, but movement seems to placate him. I want Crystal to look at the baby, but she doesn’t offer, and I don’t force it. I buckle him in and sit in the second row of her car, while Jess takes the passenger seat.

“Hello, Suburban.” Jess whistles. “This is huge.”

“It’s for business,” Crystal explains. “When you’re a designer, you transport a lot of stuff.” She puts in the address on her GPS and the automated voice guides us out of the neighborhood.

Though I’m one of Crystal’s clients, I’d almost decided not to work with her because I didn’t want a stranger in my home. Since Jackson, I feel fiercely protective in a world that shares its children on social media as if they are shiny objects for sale. But because of that need for privacy, now no one can positively identify my son, and I’m left chasing ridiculous leads to get closer to him.

Crystal finds a playlist. “Music okay?”

“Fine with me,” I say.

“So what are you hoping to find exactly?” Jess asks.

“I want to know who bought this onesie. It’s what the baby came home in.”

“Store owners aren’t allowed to give up that type of information though, are they?” she asks.

I shrug. “Maybe she’ll make an exception.” I wish I could see the passing trees, the road below—the perspective of something other than the voices in my head. “I’m just going to close my eyes,” I say.

Crystal turns the music lower, and the conversation dies.

My thoughts wander in various directions. I miss my son’s face. I miss his smell. I miss being his mother. Memories of my precious baby rattle me to my core, while a hard truth wedges itself firmly in place: if I don’t find him, no one else will.

Time is running out.

33

CRYSTAL

Lake Geneva is one of Crystal’s favorite towns. She stayed here with Paul at the Grand Geneva Resort shortly after they were engaged. He’d regaled her with tales of the former Playboy Club Hotel. While Paul played golf and she’d indulged in the overpriced spa services, she couldn’t shake the vivid image of Playboy bunnies straddling Hugh Hefner in their massive suite. She almost shares the amusing memory now but refrains when she senses the tense mood.

Jess busies herself with senseless scrolling on her phone. Crystal wants to break the ice with her—to find some semblance of common ground besides their joint friendship with Rebecca—but her mind is too caught up trying to figure out real ways to help Bec. It makes her nervous to think about being called into the police station to verify that this baby is Jackson, but she assumes they will. When Savi was born, Paul would constantly urge her to spend time studying her daughter’s features, holding her, and bonding, but she just couldn’t make herself get close. Honestly, she couldn’t pick Jackson out of a lineup.

The audible directions interrupt her circuitous thoughts and tell her to turn