Page 42 of Codi
“Codi,” he sniffles. “Where are you going, Codi? We gotta go home.”
Codi kneels in front of Lucas and smiles softly at him. “I’ll return soon. I’ll be back, don’t worry.” He ruffles his hair, then rises and turns to Reagan. “Involving the police is unnecessary. She isn’t the thief. I’ll go with you.”
“Well, I’m glad someone has sense,” Reagan says, shooting daggers at me with her eyes. Codi tentatively moves to stand alongside her, and she hooks her arm around his elbow, giving me one last scornful once-over. Shetsks at the crestfallen look on my son’s face. “Let’s go home, Ethan.”
He glances briefly over his shoulder at me as he goes where she leads him. Lucas and I stand there until we can no longer see them.
Lucas pulls at my hand. “Mommy?”
I scoop him up into my arms, determined to stay strong, even as I’m left alone with nothing but two broken hearts in my hands—my son’s, and mine. I turn and head back to the car, steadying my breath as Lucas clings to me tightly.
“It’ll be okay,” I say, more to myself than to him. “It’ll be okay. We’ll get him back.” I rub his back gently as we walk.
Words come easy to the unsure, and I don’t know anything anymore.
* * *
Driving home, I try to pretend I’m not desperate. That I’m still as strong and brave and independent as I ever was. That I don’t need a man, mechanical or otherwise, and I never did. But as I grasp the steering wheel, I know that isn’t true. Something’s changed for me. I not only let Codi in, I flung the doors wide open for him, and he altered my entire life in the course of two weeks.
I take a different exit off the interstate and glance in my rearview mirror at my son as he stares out the window, forlorn. He holds his favorite dinosaur toy in his hands but shows no interest in playing with it. I can grin through my own pain, like I always have, but seeing him suffer is unbearable.
“Do you wanna go see Becca and Oli?”
That catches his attention. He looks back at me in the mirror and eagerly nods.
I show up on the doorstep of their apartment, and Becca answers the door. One look at me and her smile fades.
Oliver comes to greet me as well, frowning. “Denise? What’s the matter?” Perhaps sensing I need a moment with Becca, he offers his hand to Lucas without even needing to be asked. “Come along. You know, you left some toys here from your last visit. I think we should play ninjas.”
“Okay,” Lucas says glumly.
Becca watches Oliver go with affection in her eyes, then turns to me, her features etched with concern. “Denise, what happened?”
I can’t hold it in anymore. I cover my mouth to stifle a sob and break down. She pulls me to the couch and holds me while I tell her everything. Everything that happened, how happy I was up until that Walter woman showed up. Becca plays with my hair and rubs my back as she listens, offering me tissues when I need them.
Ever since Becca got married, she’s gotten braver, more outspoken, and right now is no exception. When Oliver returns to the living room to check on us, Becca beckons him over. “Don’t worry, we’ll get to the bottom of this. Sweetheart, can you take Denise to the precinct?”
“Of course, but why?”
Becca gives him the abridged version of what I told her, and Oliver looks troubled by this news.
“I can take you there, of course, to verify,” he says, speaking gently. “But smartphones do synchronize with location technology built into our hardware and can house data separately from a memory wipe. That may be why she was able to detect him.”
“Still, if nothing else,” Becca says as I pull away from her and try to clean myself up. My mascara streaks my face. “Inquiring can’t hurt.”
Oliver nods. “I’ll be in the car, when you’re ready.”
“Thank you, Oli.”
He smiles at me. “Don’t mention it.”
* * *
The NCPD main precinct in the center of New Carnegie isn’t quite as busy as it might have been in the middle of the day, though there’s still staff present. A part of me feels guilty for showing up, knowing full well they probably have bigger things to worry about than my problem, what with the recent streak of robberies, violence, and protests. I probably seem minor in comparison.
Oliver and I stand together in the lobby. After explaining the reason for my arrival, we wait for someone to come speak to us. I look around at the colorful individuals coming in and out of the area—some willingly, some not. Oliver, however, stares intently in one particular direction and doesn’t seem interested in anything else.
“What is it?” I ask him quietly.
