Page 89 of Cruel Dreams

The road leading away from the airport opens into a four-lane interstate. The toll booths fascinate me, and my dad zips through a lane that’s designated for drivers who have a toll pass.

“How was your flight? Do you want to stop and get something to eat? We have about two hours on the road,” my dad says, looking in the rearview mirror and meeting Monica’s eyes. He has an easy way about him, natural and comfortable behind the wheel.

“If it’s all the same, I’d like to get this sorted as quickly as possible. I’ve arranged to spend a day or two in St. Pete, but as soon as Stella’s comfortable, I need to head back to DC,” Banks reminds him. “Not that things like this can be rushed, but I’m sure you understand.”

“Yes, of course,” my dad agrees and focuses on the road.

“That’s a lovely name,” Monica says, her voice low. “It fits you.”

I stare at our hands, a tangle of fingers in her lap. “Thank you. I was afraid...”

She rests her cheek on the top of my head. “I know. I was, too.”

They live near the ocean on one of the higher floors of their building, and they have a beautiful view of the water. A large pool glitters beneath their balcony. It couldn’t be cheap living this close to the beach, and I’m glad that despite my abduction they still did well for themselves. Monica shows me the guest room where I’ll be sleeping while I stay here. A pretty rose-colored comforter covers the queen bed, still creased from the packaging, and a dresser sits along one wall wafting a new-wood scent into the air. The floors are blonde hardwood and a pastel rug here and there are quiet accents against all the cream.

“It’s easier to sweep up the sand,” Monica explains. “I hope you’ll spend a lot of time on the beach with me.”

“I would love to. I’ve never seen the ocean before.” I set my suitcase near the dresser.

She watches me, tension pulling at her eyes. “I hope you’ll stay for a while. I want you to like it here. I want to tell you I love you, and that I missed you...but I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.” She smiles. “I guess we’ll figure this out as we go, huh?”

“Yeah. Thanks.”

Brad makes coffee in a cheerful and spacious kitchen. The appliances look brand new, and an island that has stools pushed under it invite someone to sit and talk.

When the coffee’s done, we settle in the living room that’s decorated with a subtle ocean and mermaid motif. Shells fill glass bowls, and a gorgeous painting of a mermaid hangs on the wall by the balcony doors.

I sit near my mom on a cozy couch, and Banks and my dad sit in chairs opposite us. A glass coffee table separates us, and we use an old newspaper in lieu of coasters under our mugs.

Banks sips his coffee and loosens his tie. He talks Brad and Monica through my kidnapping, the “adoption,” my time in foster care, how I was found, and a small part of my role in tearing down the Blacks’ empire. “Unfortunately, not everyone will have a happy ending. The Blacks made money off desperate people who wanted to start families. Some parents are finding their children, but others are losing them.”

“It’s a tough situation,” Brad says, hitching his ankle onto one of his knees.

We talk more about abducted children and how difficult it is to get reacquainted with biological parents. Banks doesn’t say anything about the other messed up crap the Blacks were into, and he doesn’t mention Zane. I guess he figures my relationship is private, and I’m grateful he doesn’t reveal I’m engaged to one of the richest men in the United States.

But Monica has an eagle eye and doesn’t miss the diamond ring on my left hand.

I’m engaged tosomeone.

“In my notes, it says Stella has a sister?” Banks asks to fill a pause in the conversation.

I was wondering about her and I perk up.

“Yes. Adelyn, her husband, and their daughter live in Miami. We didn’t want to overwhelm Stella, and Addie will visit when we tell her it’s okay. She’s beyond excited to meet you, sweetie,” Monica says, squeezing my arm.

“I’m looking forward to meeting her too,” I say, relieved I have time to acclimate and get to know Monica and Brad first and that my fears my sister hated me weren’t true.

Banks closes his laptop and stores it in his briefcase. Looking at his watch, he says, “I suppose I should get along to my hotel. I can come by in the morning, answer any questions that might pop up between now and then?” he asks, standing.

“That would be perfect. Please join us for breakfast,” Monica says, but instead of shaking his hand, she throws her arms around him. “Thank you for bringing our daughter back to us.”

Awkwardly, he pats her shoulder. “It was nothing we did.”

“Be that as it may, we’re extremely grateful,” Brad says, shaking Banks’ hand when my mom releases him. “I’ll drive you.”

“Appreciate it. Stella? Can you give me a second?”

We step onto the balcony and he closes the door. The humidity and heat hit me in the face, and the tangy scents of salt and sand fill my nose.

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