Page 89 of Wanted

Stella is mine. And in the same way I’m hers. All we have to do is find our way back.

And then I’m going to have to settle a few things with my mother.

It’s my life, it’s been a long time since I stopped being that small child who needs to be led by the hand.

When we finally land in Louisville it’s already past noon, we wasted precious time organizing the flight’s logistics. Of course, there is an accident on Route 71, the highway that connects Louisville to Carrollton, which delays us for hours. By the time we reach town the sun has already set. I’m exhausted, hungry, and eager to see her.

I’m sure that if she’s had just as bad a day as me, she must be walking through one of the circles of hell.

The driver stops the SUV at a corner, pointing to a small cottage that I could safely say was built fifty years ago. Everything is dark, the lights are off and there is no movement anywhere. “That’s the house.”

Before Mark can open the door, I have my feet on the ground, I don’t care much about the safety risks as they organized an operative to rescue her.

Mark’s hand on my arm stops me cold. “Wait, Simba, she could be in danger and acting crazy is only going to make it worse, let us do this our way.”

Our way. I’ve been following their damn instructions for hours, and what have we accomplished? Absolutely nothing.

Speaking through gadgets attached to their sleeves and their ears they agree to then slowly walk toward the house, two open the front door, while two others have gone around to the backyard.

“Everything is clear,” Mark informs me. “We can go in.”

Walking for the first time in the house they shared is a low blow. The lights have been turned on and I can see that someone has been here. On the small coffee table there is a notebook with some things written down, and it’s her handwriting. I shudder as I read what she has written down. One by one she has listed the events of the past few months, my smart girl. Now I regret not having spoken to her before, not having trusted her. Surely this shit would already be mended by now.

My eyes continue to scan the space. The house is old and urgently needs maintenance, but it is very clean. Other than the photo from a shattered frame that is on the floor.

It can’t be, someone else was here. Someone got to her first before we did.

Cold sweat runs down my back. Stella is in danger.

“Fuck,” I hear Mark yell. “Lionel, do you know what this means?” he asks me as soon as I’m by his side. He points to a note written on a piece of paper taped to the room’s front door.

You stole my life, but she will always be mine.

Very soon we will settle this, little brother.

What the fuck is this all about. I don’t have a brother. Or do I?

Chapter Twenty-Seven

“What the fuck is this?” I ask more to myself.

“For a few weeks now, it’s been a line of research Charlie is following,” Mark says those words and they seem like they’re from another world. He puts a hand on one of my shoulders before continuing. “She believes that all this has to do with your origin. At first I thought it was crazy, but my wife’s intelligence never ceases to amaze me.”

Memories come again, the man who looked the same as me. That voice… too many coincidences. Stella…

“First things first, where the hell is my wife?”

Someone clears his throat behind us, so we turn to see what he has to say.

“Mrs. Kral’s truck is not here. According to neighbors, until a few hours ago, it was here at the side of the house.” What the hell does that mean, is it good or bad news? “In addition, someone used her card to withdraw money at an ATM. We’re already working to obtain the recordings from the security cameras, with that we’ll have an idea whether she was alone or someone else was with her.”

And what am I supposed to do in the meantime? Ask for these assholes to get me a Valium to avoid going crazy or what?

“We’re also already investigating all the gas stations in the area, we have everything covered.”

Mark nods at him and then turns to look at me. “Charlie has good contacts with the Feds. If this is about kidnapping, we need to notify the agency but also to find a way without them taking control of the situation.”

Something inside me breaks, I want to hit someone, and somehow, I contain myself. “I want news, and I want it fast.”

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