*Jordan

He leaves the diner and I can breathe again. I can focus my eyes again and deny the debilitating pain in my chest. Marge sets my food on the counter. She's talking to me, and I nod in agreement.

Yes, he is a jerk. I should have known. Can't trust any men these days, all the good ones, like her husband are already taken. But if I hang in there, I'll be all right.

"I'll be fine, you're right." I take the food. "Thanks for the support."

"Always. And you and baby Emma are always in my prayers. I know they'll find her and put that horrible man in jail."

I tell myself to smile in appreciation. All the prayers in the world haven't helped me so far, but I'm not willing to give them up. Her kindness, after Cole's demands, will have me on the floor sobbing in a minute. I wave goodbye, not trusting my voice.

My driver is waiting by the side of the building, cigarette lit. I called for transportation—what other choice did I have to get to work?

Suddenly, I'm resolved. All morning, I thought I'd go to Trey's mother and confront her and Eryn for good about their relationship with him, then at the last minute, I talked myself out of it, and called the Uber to take me to work.

I'm not putting this off any longer. I signal that I'm ready and he tosses his cigarette butt, blows a lungful of white smoke into the air.

"I've had something come up. There's another house I need to stop at before going to work."

"No problem." He opens the door for me since my hands are full. "It all goes on the tab, though."

"I know. Nothing is free." Everything in this life has come at a price for me. The cost is too high this time, though. I can't afford to lose everything precious and worth living for.

It's only worth losing everything and everyone else if I can get Emma back. I tell myself this over and over.

I give him the address from memory, hating that it's burned in my head so clearly. His car smells sharply of too many cleaning solutions and air fresheners, and by the time we bump onto Jo-Beth's driveway from the street, I'm nauseated. I climb out of the car, spine straight and head high. I have to be strong. Appearances are everything with this evil family.

I hesitate at the door, though, fist in the air. They've blamed me for all their problems, all their sorrows. They've blamed me so much and told me so many times everything was my fault, that I've almost started to believe it.

After Trey married me, and started work in a warehouse instead of making them proud by being a star athlete and student at the university, they blamed me for being a slut.

When my miscarriage came and Trey stayed married to me, living on minimum wage, they not only blamed me for his failures, but for Trey's father committing suicide. The man even said in a note that his failure of being a good father was why he killed himself. Sick.

Jo-Beth, Trey's mother, threw her bible at my face during the funeral.

Then, I got pregnant again on accident. Jo-Beth accused me of dragging her son down deeper in debt and depression. She warned me I would be his ruin. She said I loved to see him miserable.

She said I should kill myself and spare the world the grief of raising a child who would never amount to anything.

Trey kidnapped our daughter, and she said I got what I deserved. And through it all, Eryn nodded in agreement. Always in the background, always supporting her horrible family. And the worst part, was that I didn't even hate these women for what they did and said. I hated myself so much, there wasn't any room left over to hate them.

I knock, as loud as possible without banging on the door. They will hear me, if they are here. They live like nuns in silence, waiting for voices from beyond.

My mouth is sandpaper. I should have had a glass of water first. I'll never be able to speak clearly. Footsteps sound from the house—boards moaning and the clacking of hard soles. They have real wood floors, from a time of wealth and ease before Trey's father died. They continue on old reputations and cruelty.

I step back and square my shoulders in time to hear the tiny click of the viewer opening. Silence. I wait.

The door opens slowly to a suspicious crack. Half of Jo-Beth's face appears. Her expression is shriveled and she frowns deeply. "What do you want?"

"To talk to you and Eryn."

"We have nothing to say to you. You ruined our lives. You killed our men or ran them off. If you don't leave, I'll call the cops."

"If you call the cops, I'll tell you have information on Trey. I'll tell them you are accomplices in his crime and I can prove it."

She opens the door wide enough to spit at my feet. "That's all your proof is worth."

"Mom, who's at the..." Eryn's voice trails off from inside the house and the top of her head looms over her mother's. "Well, howdy stranger. Kind of an unexpected hour for a social visit, isn't it?"

I shake my head at her levity. I'm not here for chit-chat and she knows it. "We have to talk about Trey."

Eryn moves in front of her mother and leans on the doorframe, arms crossed. "Huh. After all this time, you want to talk about my brother."

"Yes, I do."

Jo-Beth yanks open the door. "You low-class whore. Coming here uninvited like this, demanding we give you our time when you threaten us."

"Mom," Eryn says, irritated. "Why don't you let me handle this?"

She huffed, undecided for a moment and then turned without a word to disappear into the large home, her footsteps reverberating in the wide spaces.

"What's there to say about Trey that hasn't already been said?" Eryn asks. She's dressed for work, but no make-up on yet. She looks tired. Too thin and worn out. There's an edge to her voice, though. She might pretend to be bored by my presence, but she is on full alert.

"Of all the people in this town he might have kept contact with, or who might know a clue to his whereabouts, I've narrowed it down to you and your mother."

"I'm impressed, Sherlock. It took you how many years to assume his only living family might have tabs on him?" she asks. "Not that we do." She studies her manicure, her nails are long and slightly pointed.

"Trey is weak and a moron for money management. I bet he came begging at least once, or he stopped by on his way out of town. I have hired a private investigator to try and find a money trail." I'm lying. I'm completely bluffing, hoping to shake her confidence.

She laughs in my face. "Money? From us? Not once did he come here for money, he knew perfectly well there wasn't any to ask for."

"You're lying. Things didn't get bad for you until after—"

"Until after dad died? Which was well before Trey took off. No, it was already bad before that. We have this house still, because of my work, but not for much longer. Within the next six months, we'll be downsizing."

"You know something. You know where he might be."

"Jordan, my dear former sister-in-law, if I knew where that asshole was, I would have put in a tip long ago and claimed the reward money to pay for my mother's chemotherapy."

"What?"

"You hadn't noticed? She's wearing a wig."

I stumble back, and try to recover my shock.

"Oh, yes," Eryn continues. "I always played the good girl in the family, while Trey was the golden boy who did whatever he wanted and got away with it. Do you have any idea how much I hate him? For what he's done to me and this family? I hate him so much, I'd almost be willing to turn him in, if I could, and not take the reward money. But the idea of you having to sell your house to pay up would be too delicious to refuse. If I knew anything, that is."

I suck in air, unconsciously flaring my nostrils. She notices, and knows she's right. I had not thought about that fact in a long time. I had given up on anyone ever sending in a tip with correct information—but the only way I could increase the small reward offered by the FBI was by guessing how much I could get from the house.

The house I want to raise Emma in.

Eryn is laughing again, a low, barking chuckle. She's genuinely amused and I wish I could slap her ugly smirk.

"Oh, Jordan, you really don't have a clue, do you? I can only dream of knowing where he is, for the pleasure of ruining both of you."

"What about your mother? What does she know? The reward still stands, even if I have to sell the house and get a cock-roach infected apartment, I'd do it, to have Emma back."

"She talks about how wonderful Trey's life was supposed to be every single day. Every day, I have to listen to her idolize that dumb punk. If she knew where he was, she'd be calling him instead of talking to me." She takes the door in one hand. "And that's all I have to say to you."

"Wait. Knowing what you do about your brother, do you really blame me for who he was? Abuser, wife-beater, kidnapper? You think it was me who was evil?"

"I think you are a cheap gold-digger. You thought you had something worth getting your nails into, so you did. I don't blame you, but I'm glad you got what you deserved."

The door slams shut in my face.

I gasp for air. These two women harbor an amount of ugliness that has left me scrambling for solid ground. My knees actually tremble, I'm so shocked.

That's it. I walk to the car. They don't know anything.

No one in this town can help me. No one has any contact with Trey, or knows where he went, what name he used.

Emma is lost to me, unless the police find her.

And at this point in my life, I have nothing—not even the lie I told myself about being good enough to get her back. I've even lost Cole.

Jo-Beth rounds the corner from the backyard, her face twisted in a dark scowl. Now that Eryn told me, I can see she's wearing a wig and her skin was ashen, eyes sunk. It has been months since I've seen her. She's been hit hard with this illness.

"You ruined him," she hisses. "You ruined everything. We were fine before you came."

"You were a seething pit of snakes, on the verge of breaking loose. I didn't create your son, I didn't make him who he is."

"Don't you dare blame me. You have no idea how we've suffered."

"Was your only baby kidnapped? Were you married to a man who beat and humiliated you?"

She doesn't answer. Her silence gives me the answers to my questions. My God, this family is horrible. So many secrets, lies and heartbreak in this town. It tears me to pieces. She points at me. "My baby was taken from me, and you are to blame."

At her words, a darkness in my heart brightens. My shoulders feel as if they are lifting, the invisible force pressing on me dissipated. She sets me free, because I finally accept what was right in front of me all along.

"But I'm not to blame, for any of it." I leave her there. I leave her crying in rage and frustration, a sick, old woman warped by a lifetime of misery. A part of me wishes I could help her—let her see what I finally saw.

I hold the key to the chains Trey put on me so long ago.

*** Well, she isn't any closer to getting Emma back, but she is finally setting herself free! Thank you for reading!!! ***