He tried. He really did.
They searched the entire mall, the security cameras, every store, and even had few teams in the mall searching for the missing boy; however, it was all useless.
The boy was seen on camera running out of the mall. The security stopped him at the entrance, but he, cleverly, joined a family–of–five to leave the mall. The security didn't bother again because the boy was with— what he assumed — his family. He wasn't seen on any of the cameras outside.
Strange.
Steve wanted to call LNP, but Vivian told him not to. The boy had not been missing for even an hour yet. "Maybe he is somewhere around," she had told him, holding his hand before he could reach for his phone.
Steve really wanted to help her until the boy —whose name he later discovered was Jeremy— was found; however, he had to leave her to finding him because his mother called him to meet her in the room he left Rachael in.
If only he had found the boy, Vivian would've owed him one. That way, she would have been— with no doubt— compelled to return the favor. But that wasn't going to happen. At least not now.
*****
"Your sister is a tough one, you know?" Harriet said to Steve as they watched Rachael drive out of the parking lot, accompanied by two of the bodyguards Harriet had brought in a black Toyota Sequoia.
"Haven't you noticed that she has been impulsive since yesterday? She does what she wants, and look." Steve pointed to the exit. "She is driving herself home after what happened in there." He sighed. "It's good that she allowed those bodyguards escort her."
"What do you expect, Steve?" Harriet asked as they walked towards Steve car. "Even though she's hiding it, I can see that she is hurt. Rachael has really been going through a lot lately." She leaned on the side of the car. "She did everything in her power for that wedding to be grand then it was ruined by a woman that we don't know." Harriet frowned. She felt sorry for Rachael.
To be honest, not many women could do what Rachael did. She handled the issue with maturity. Many people would have done something very crazy, something unthinkable.
"I saw her," said Steve, looking at his mother. Harriet eyes met his. "She was here today. The woman from yesterday," he added to put Harriet on track.
"Do you think she is following Rachael?" Harriet inquired. "Perhaps she enjoys watching Rachael gets hurt."
"I doubt that."
"Do you think it was coincidental that she was at the same place that Rachael was harassed by bunch of stupid people?" Harriet threw questioning eyes at him. "Probably, she paid them to harass your sister."
Steve sighed. "Mom, she was shopping with her son. The boy got lost inside the mall."
"Is that even compared to what she did to Rachael?" Harriet asked. "Wait. How do you know all of this?"
"We talked," Steve retorted promptly. "I only wanted to know what it was that made Charles throw away million of dollars just so it remains hidden. Come to think of it, mom," Steve explained when his mother's eyes looked at him as if they were going to open wide and swallow him. "Charles is—" Harriet interrupted him.
"Get in the car, Steve," she commanded, walking around to the passenger seat. Steve didn't protest, he sat down and opened the door from inside for his mother. "What the fuck was you thinking?"
Steve knew just what his mom was about to do; blast the hell out of his ass, yell at him, and apology for being harsh.
"What did I do wrong? Is it a bad thing that I decided to help my sister?" He sounded so emotional.
"You and I know that you aren't trying to help her, Steve. You remember what happened the last time you put your nose in Rachael and Charles' love affair, don't you?" She reminded him of how he and Rachael didn't talk for almost a year when he told Rachael to leave Charles.
"Mom," Steve began, "I'm sorry, but I can't help it. Besides, you should appreciate me for this. I'm sure Rachael would have given me hugs and kisses if I had made that woman tell me what Charles is hiding from everyone."
Harriet couldn't believe the words coming from Steve's mouth, and she couldn't believe his determination. He was acting just like his father— striving to get what he wanted.
The thought of her husband, Luther, made her feel different; uneasy. She had the strong feeling that the marriage she had built all those years was on a thin line.
Harriet decided not to talk about it again. She knew Steve wasn't going to give up until his actions fire back at him. Nothing bad that couldn't be handled could possibly happened.
If you tell a child not to touch a hot pot, and the child insist, allow him to touch it. Once he is burnt, he will never touch it again. Harriet was doing so by letting Steve do what he wanted.
"Just be careful, Steve," Harriet said. "And blame yourself if your actions fire back."
"You don't have to worry, mother, I am not doing anything again. I tried, but that woman will not tell, even if Jesus Christ commands her to." Steve said, giving his mother assurance.
Steve didn't want to ask, but he had to. He couldn't just ignore what he had been seeing for a long while now.
"Mother, have you been crying?" He asked her the question finally, and watched her hesitate to answer.
That was a very impressive way of turning the table. Now they were going to talk about her.
It felt good talking with his mother when the conversation wasn't about something negative concerning him.
"No."
"Your eyes are swollen and red. Also, you have, I think, dried mascara right under your chin."
Busted.
She couldn't deny it no more that she had been crying her eyes out. Steve was a man, and not a little boy who would believe any inexpensive lie from her.
She couldn't deny that she had been crying, yes, but that didn't mean she necessarily had to tell him the main reason behind those tears she had shed.
How could she tell him that his father didn't trust her anymore? It wouldn't've made sense. Also, he would've ask questions that she wasn't ready to answer. He's the son of his father after all.
"Where is the paper towel?" She asked him, looking at the rearview mirror, and giving herself time to find a better lie to keep his brows down. Steve pointed to the glove compartment. Something dropped from inside down to her feet when she opened the glove compartment. "What's this," Harriet asked, bringing the wrapped object into the light.
Now she was going to use the object wrapped with gift papers to change the topic, wasn't she? She was a smart woman after all. Steve was fully aware of that.
"Oh, that." He paused. "Someome gave that to me at the gas station this morning." He explained to her, getting ready to bring the topic back to what it was. However, his mother didn't give him the chance.
"What is it?" She asked, feeling it as if she would tell what it was just by the touch of it.
"I don't know," he retorted, shrugging.
"Steve, you mean to tell me you've been carrying something in your car that you don't know what it is? What if it's drug, or a bomb, or something that is dangerous?" She began blasting at him. Harriet could see on Steve's face that he was thinking she was obsessed with a gift simply because she didn't want to talk about why she had been crying. "Do you even know who it is from?"
Steve shrugged again, making an innocent face. She started unwrapping the gift immediately.
As the last paper was removed from on it, Harriet became frozen. Her body was heavy to move. Only her hands shivered .
Steve attempted taking it from her to get a better view of what it was, but she held onto it very tight. Her grip was unbelievable firm around the object.
Before Steve could say a word, his mother was already out of his car. He followed her, but she entered her car before he could get to her and was driven out of the parking lot in full speed.
Steve stood up, his hand around the waist, wondering why his mother behaved in such a manner. What did she see that made her go numb out of a sudden?
Steve kept wondering what it was and why his mother didn't allow him to take a look at it.
From what he saw, it didn't look new. The frame was broken, and the picture in it was cut in half. That was all he saw. He didn't see the contents of the picture.
He sat in the car and called Harriet's phone, but she didn't answer. When he called the second time, her phone was off.
"What was that?" Steve asked himself.
He shook it off when he couldn't apprehend what is was, and put the key in the ignition. He drove out of the parking lot, still thinking about the occurrence moments ago.
Was she escaping answering his question about why she was crying, or was there more to her abrupt, bizarre attitude?
A/N
Hope you enjoy reading just like I enjoy writing the story.
Questions: 1. Do you think Harriet escaped answering Steve's question of why she was crying, or it was because of the picture.
Please vote and comment.