Missing Hearts Read online

  Missing Hearts © 2020

  Cover Design © 2020 Designs by Taria Reed

  Interior design and formatting by EbookJob

  1st Editor: Heather W.

  2nd Editor: Roxanam

  Proofreader: I. Fich

  Beta Readers: K Killers

  All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means such as electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise without the prior written permission of the authors of this book.

  This is a work of fiction. Any characters, names, places, brands, media and incidents are used solely in a fictitious nature based on the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to or mention of persons, places, organizations or other incidents is coincidental.

  Printed in the United States of America

  First Printing, 2020

  ISBN 0-9000000-0-0

  www.KenyaWrightBooks.com

  DEDICATED TO

  All my K Killers in my Readers Group.

  In this time of the Coronavirus, you’ve kept me distracted and laughing. I write with the hopes that it will touch your hearts and keep you busy in this crazy year.

  K KILLERS

  “When we miss someone, often, what we really miss is the part of us that this someone awakens.”

  – Luigina Sgarro

  Table of Contents

  Dedicated

  Prologue: Cheating Ass

  Chapter 1: Black Girls Matter: Alexander

  Chapter 2: First Day at Work: Haven

  Chapter 3: An Unnecessary Distraction: Alexander

  Chapter 4: Smoke Breaks: Haven

  Chapter 5: Holy Communion: Alexander

  Chapter 6: The Lord’s Prayer: Haven

  Chapter 7: Lover Boy: Alexander

  Chapter 8: Honeybee: Alexander

  Chapter 9: Black Lilies: Haven

  Chapter 10: The Sins of Our Fathers: Haven

  Chapter 11: A Brutal History: Alexander

  Chapter 12: The Strange Fruit Murders: Alexander

  Chapter 13: The Tipsy Pig: Haven

  Chapter 14: Candid Camera: Alexander

  Chapter 15: A Deadly Surprise: Haven

  Chapter 16: Take a Break: Alexander

  Chapter 17: Messages: Haven

  Chapter 18: Dead Ends: Alexander

  Chapter 19: Sunday in the South: Haven

  Chapter 20: The Price of Admission: Alexander

  Chapter 21: A Person of Interest: Alexander

  Chapter 22: Junior Psycho: Haven

  Chapter 23: Pictures of the Past: Haven

  Chapter 24: Passing: Alexander

  Chapter 25: The Trigger: Alexander

  Chapter 26: Unexpected Guest: Haven

  Chapter 27: Wet: Alexander

  Chapter 28: Loverboy Strikes Again: Haven

  Chapter 29: A Small Victory: Haven

  Chapter 30: Chaos: Alexander

  Chapter 31: Finally: Haven

  Chapter 32: Can’t Get Enough: Alexander

  Chapter 33: When God Calls: Haven

  Chapter 34: Confessions: Alexander

  Chapter 35: Wade in the Water: Haven

  Chapter 36: The Search: Alexander

  Chapter 37: Peace: Haven

  Chapter 38: Champagne: Alexander

  Epilogue: Meet the Parents: Alexander

  Help with Missing Kids

  Prologue

  Cheating Ass

  He’s cheating. I know he is.

  In Fanny’s restaurant, Blake sat across from me, stirring and mumbling about the weather. Sweat beaded around his forehead.

  On the right, our five-year-old daughter Melody drew blue and yellow circles. The waitress had set crayons and paper on the table. Dressed in purple, I’d done her hair up in two long braids. The ends teased her shoulders.

  Melody had the best of Blake and me. My dark brown skin. His thick wavy hair. When I’d met him in college, he’d worn big ole cornrows, trying to be hard. In the end, he was a nerd. Melody got that from him too, along with those beautiful brown eyes.

  Blake disrupted my thoughts. “What a great night to spend with my special girls!”

  His words tasted nasty on my tongue.

  You’re lucky Melody is here, Blake. Or I would have this butter knife up your ass. Ten years of marriage and you don’t think I can tell that you’re lying?

  First, he claimed he had to work for his insurance company on Saturday. Apparently, it was some freak emergency.

  Freak is right.

  Then, Blake showed up late in the evening, at ten. He usually left work at five. He came home late, took a shower, and went straight to bed. He’d rushed back out early this morning, missed church, and returned this evening with flowers, a new dress for me, and a yellow and black polka dot stuffed animal for Melody. He’d claimed that he loved us so much and wanted to take us out for dinner.

  Where were you this morning? Those gifts are nothing but guilt.

  Blake gestured to the TVs in every corner of the space. “The hostess said they’re going to show the Colors of Love here. It premieres tonight.”

  I glared at him.

  Blake avoided my gaze and touched the stuffed animal next to Melody. “What did you name your new baby, sweetie?”

  Melody picked the animal up and held it next to her while she drew. “Cheater. That’s his name.”

  Blake coughed. “W-what’s that, baby?”

  “I named him Cheater because he has spots, Daddy.” Melody beamed. “Just like a cheater does.”

  Blake cleared his throat. “You meant cheetah, sweetheart.”

  “Yes, Daddy. That’s what I said.”

  “Hmm.” I shook my head. “I’m not a fan of cheaters either, but that’s a good name, Melody.”

  “You’re right, Liz.” Blake nodded at me. “I don’t like cheetahs either.”

  I snorted. “No, I said cheaters.”

  Blake wiped his forehead. “It was super sunny today. Now, it’s a hot evening. But, I love when it’s sunny, Liz. Don’t you?”

  How are you going to come home with no drawers? Who leaves their underwear at work?

  I tapped the table. My nails clicked and clacked on the polished surface.

  I can’t think about this now. Melody is here. I’ll deal with this when we get home.

  Blake glanced at one of the TVs. “When do you think the show is going to begin? It would be nice to watch Colors of Love while we eat. This place is sort of the inspiration for the show.”

  Fanny’s restaurant had been around before I was born. Passed down from grandmother to grandmother. Tom Fullbrooke started this town two hundred years ago and had the biggest plantation and slave population in all the south. He called his cook Fanny—an old slave from the west coast of Africa. He bragged that she was the best cook in the world.

  They said that he loved Fanny’s cooking so much that he raped and impregnated her, just to have more Fannies running around his kitchen. And that was what happened. For years the Fullbrooke family had a slave woman named Fanny fixing them meals with the same recipes.

  When Emancipation Proclamation ended slavery in 1863, the Fullbrooke family bought Fanny the restaurant. By then, it wasn’t the original Fanny, but some great-great-granddaughter of Tom and her. The white folks around town thought it was a nice thing that the Fullbrookes had done. But the blacks knew that the Fullbrookes were just taking care of their offspring that had been produced from rape and slavery.

  As a history major, I’d wrote my graduate thesis on Fanny’s family.

  After slaves were freed, Fanny’s kids continued to name a little girl of a new generation, Fanny. I
wasn’t sure if it was a sense of pride or if they never wanted to forget the atrocities done to their blood.

  Regardless, none of that history stopped blacks and whites from crowding Fanny’s restaurant and ordering her famous macaroni and cheese, buttery biscuits, ham hock collards, and sweet-sweet potato pie.

  Blake knew this was my favorite spot due to those dishes and the horrific history that it held.

  You think some macaroni and cheese is going to get you out of this? It won’t.

  Blake clapped. “Okay. There we go. The show is coming on.”

  Melody continued to draw.

  I looked at one of the screens hoping that the show could get me out of my mood during this dinner. When we got home, everything would change.

  What am I going to do now?

  Throughout the restaurant, TVs hung in each corner, blasting Colors of Love. Everybody in Fullbrooke was excited to see the show. The series had been filmed in the area and was loosely based on the town’s founder—slave plantation owner Tom Fullbrooke and his secret affair with his slave Fanny.

  They’d called the show a love story, but how could a relationship between a slave master and his slave involve romance?

  On the screen, the Colors of Love intro played. Piano music filled the air. The actress performing as Fanny smiled in the kitchen as she mixed something in her bowl.

  I doubt Fanny grinned like that.

  At least she looked like the real Fanny—who had old pictures placed in the Fullbrooke museum downtown. She was honey-skinned with a short curly afro.

  On the screen, an image of Tom Fullbrooke appeared—midnight black hair and blue eyes. Tall and muscular. The real monster that had owned more slaves than any master in the state of Georgia.

  I can’t believe this place is going to show the premier here. I mean it’s about their relatives, but still. . .

  “Yesterday was rainy.” Blake interrupted. “That traffic was crazy—”

  “That’s what took you so long to get home?” I turned from the TV.

  “Of course, baby.” Blake’s phone buzzed. He took it out, frowned, and set it on the table.

  “Who was that?”

  “Work. But I’m with my two babies. There is nothing that’s going to get in the way of our special time.” Blake pressed a button on the device. “In fact, let me turn this off. Don’t you worry about any more interruptions.”

  “The insurance company must’ve had an emergency to call you for the first time on a Sunday.” I tapped my nails. “Are you sure you don’t want to answer?”

  “Shoot. They can wait.” Blake wiped the sweat off again and then chugged some of his water. “It’s date night with my two special girls.”

  “We’re so lucky to have you.” I frowned. “So glad you were able to make it home last night.”

  “Yeah. You know how this town is with a little rain. People driving crazy all over the place.” He gave a nervous laugh. “Must’ve been five or six accidents on the way. A car pile-up.”

  “A car pile-up?”

  “Yeah.” Blake unbuttoned the top of his shirt. “One guy hit another. All the cars in the back were so close. They slammed into each other. People died and what not. There were explosions and fires. I’m just glad I made it out of there alive. That’s what took me so long to get home.”

  “What road was this on?”

  “Man, where is that waitress?” Blake scanned the space.

  I leaned back in my chair. “I didn’t hear about a car pile-up on the news.”

  “Not yet? You must’ve missed it. Oh, it’s going to be on the news.” He undid another button and fanned his face. “Yeah. Something like that is definitely going to make the news.”

  Melody stopped drawing and raised her paper. “Look!”

  I checked out her drawing. “That’s lovely, Melody. What is it?”

  “Balloons.”

  “Oh, I love those balloons so much. Can you draw us more?”

  “Sure, mommy.” Melody studied the small set of crayons and then grabbed the purple one. “These will be fairy balloons.”

  “Good.” I snapped my attention back to my husband.

  “Yes, baby.” Blake patted Melody’s back. “Draw Daddy some magic balloons.”

  Why? So, you can float your cheating ass out of here?

  I glared at him.

  “Whew.” Blake scanned the restaurant some more. “Where the hell is she?”

  “You never said the road where the accident was on?”

  “I didn’t?”

  “No.”

  “We can talk more about this later.” Blake rose from the table. “I have to go to the bathroom. Just order for me, baby. You always know what I love. You’re such a good wife. I appreciate you.”

  He rushed off.

  I shook my head and looked at the TV. The show had begun. On the screen, several African slaves stood naked on an auction post. Chains gripped their necks and ankles. They shook in fear, not understanding what was going on.

  I must do something. I don’t even have the stomach to get through this meal.

  Melody grabbed my attention. “Should I make pink balloons too, Mommy?”

  “Yes. Pink is a must.” I looked down at the table, spotted Blake’s phone, and grabbed it. “Do some cheetah balloons too.”

  “Oh yes.” Melody grabbed the pink crayon. “I’m going to do a bunch with spots, Mommy.”

  I’m just going to check his phone. I can’t sit here through this meal and pretend everything is okay. I must make sure this isn’t all in my head.

  My hands shook as I turned on Blake’s phone. Melody said something else, but her voice, as well as the restaurant chatter, disappeared. It was only the phone and me in that space. All depended on what I would find.

  This could be the end of my ten-year marriage. What will I do?

  The device came on. Nine missed calls showed. I didn’t recognize the number. Blake had labeled it Domino’s Pizza. He’d been calling Domino’s Pizza a lot for the past three months—early in the morning, in the middle of the night, and even during work. I switched to his text. Blake had even sent Domino’s Pizza several pictures of his penis. And Domino’s Pizza had sent images too. And it wasn’t food establishment ads. It was a young man that must’ve been half Blake and my age of forty. Some of the images appeared to be a guy posing naked in a college dorm.

  No, Jesus. No. He’s cheating on me with a college kid?

  A man’s voice boomed from all the TVs. The actor playing Tom Fullbrooke had arrived at the slave auction.

  I gripped the phone hard. My world spun around me. All I could do was look up at the screen and try to anchor myself.

  On the TV, Tom Fullbrooke left his immaculate horse carriage and stepped through the crowd of people bidding. All the slaves were naked and chained to the stage. Tom’s gaze locked with Fanny’s terrified face.

  Dramatically, he raised his hand and pointed. “I want her!”

  Emotional music played—some sort of fast paced piano and flute.

  This show is as bad as my life.

  I looked away.

  Melody made more balloons on the page.

  I wanted you to grow up with a dad, baby. I never had that. And now. . .

  Tears streamed down my face.

  Damn it, Blake. If you were gay, then you should have never married me.

  I lost it right there. My nerves burned with rage. Blake had thrown it all away—our life, our future. He’d muddied our love. He’d sullied the memories. He’d forever ruined the sanctity of our bed—the sacredness of our marriage. My heart shattered. My soul wept. My bones damn near imploded within my body.

  Not only was Blake an adulterous piece of shit, but apparently, he was gay. I didn’t have problems with homosexual people. I just no longer knew who Blake was anymore, what my life had become, and where our marriage would go.

  How long have you been sticking your penis in him and then bringing that nastiness to my bed and putting it ins
ide me? How long?

  Gripping the phone, I rose from the table.

  The TV blared with the show.

  “This slave goes to Tom Fullbrooke.”

  “What are you going to name her, Tom?”

  “Fanny. I’m going to call her. . .Fanny.”

  “Come on, Fanny. You go on with your master now.”

  I stomped toward the bathroom. Everyone had their attention glued to the TVs as if the show was some award-winning drama. I had no idea what was wrong with the world, but idiot entertainment surely had played some part and ruining the minds of this country.

  I got close to the men’s bathroom, ready to blast in there, and curse him out.

  Luckily, Blake had been leaving. “Hey, baby did the waitress come?”

  “How about you ask Domino’s Pizza!” I slung the phone at him. “I’m surprised you’re even hungry.”

  Blake jerked back. “W-what?”

  I hit his chest. “How could you? How could you do that to me?”

  “B-baby.” He grabbed my arms so I wouldn’t hit him anymore. “This isn’t what you think it is. I’m telling you.”

  Other people around the restaurant gathered our way. People no longer focused on Colors of Love. Now Blake and I had their attention. I screamed and tried to hit him again. Some rose from their tables to get a better view.

  Blake backed up. “Liz, just calm down. Let me explain. You’ve got it all wrong.”

  I slapped him. “So, you’re not sending your penis to some college boy?!”

  “Oh shit,” a woman muttered at the table behind. “This is better than the show.”

  Blake widened his eyes in embarrassment. “W-what, baby? I’m. . .no. . .t-that’s the fellas. . .playing games with my phone.”

  “Liar.” I took my hands out of his. “I didn’t even say it was on your phone.”

  “You threw the phone at me—”

  “You can’t even admit it?” I wiped tears away. “You’re going to lie until the end?”

  “I’m not cheating.” Blake raised his hands in the air. “I swear to God—”

  “And I hope God strikes you down!” I rushed off. “I’m going home. You go to Domino’s Pizza. I want a divorce!”

  “Wait. Wait.” Blake followed. “Come on now, baby. You’re going to believe some phone shit over me—”