CHAPTER 177: KAREN COMBS

Callan was lying on his bed, covered with a thick blanket. His room was quiet as he slept. But then he turned suddenly, his face scrunched up in pain.

His hands gripped the sheets.

His legs kicked under the covers.

"No," he whispered in his sleep. "No... I didn’t..."

In his nightmare, he was eleven years old again. The air smelled like baby powder. He stood in the middle of the cramped room, staring at the baby lying still on the rug.

His tiny baby brother lay still. Not breathing. Not crying as usual. Not moving.

"You killed him!" His mother screamed. "You rolled over him in your sleep!"

Callan’s heart thudded in his chest. His small hands were shaking. He looked down at his pajamas. Had the baby slept on the rug with him? He couldn’t remember.

Why would the baby be on the floor next to him when he always slept in his bassinet?

His mother slapped him hard on his back to get his attention. Her face was wild, her eyes burning with an emotion he couldn’t place.

Callan shook his head fast. "No... I didn’t— he didn’t sleep there— I—"

Her hand came down hard against his cheek this time. It burned. He stumbled backward, but she stepped forward again.

"You cursed child!" she shouted. "You only bring death! First my husband, now my poor baby!"

Callan cried, his chest hurting. "Mommy... please..."

She slapped him again. This time on the other cheek.

"Don’t call me that!" she screamed. "I’m not your mother! I could never give birth to something like you! You were left at my door because even your real mother didn’t want you!"

His mouth dropped open. Tears poured down his face. "You’re lying," he said, sobbing. "You’re lying! You’re my mother!"

She grabbed him by his arm and pushed him down. "You are nothing but bad luck. I lost everything because of you! I wish I had never taken you in!"

Callan screamed and screamed as the world around him twisted into shadows and smoke. The baby on the rug disappeared. His mother’s angry face turned into darkness.

And then with a strangled cry he woke up and sat up in bed. His chest was rising and falling fast. Sweat soaked his shirt, dripping down his neck and arms, even though the air in the room was cold.

His throat was dry. His hands were shaking.

Callan pushed off the blanket. His legs were weak, but he climbed out of bed. It felt like the nightmare was still chasing him. Like the angry voice of his mother was right behind him.

He couldn’t stay in the room.

He opened the door and walked out into the hallway, his steps unsteady. The house was quiet and dark. He moved like a ghost, walking through shadows until he reached the bar in the corner of the living room.

He grabbed the nearest bottle of whiskey, poured it into a glass with trembling hands, and drank it all at once. The burn didn’t help, but it kept his teeth from clenching.

One would think by now he’d be used to the nightmare and be less affected by it because of the frequency with which he had them, yet it felt very real and recent even after nineteen long years.

His fingers were still shaking as he reached for his phone, but he found the number he needed and pressed call.

The phone rang twice before a voice came on.

"Hello, sir."

Callan’s voice was rough. "How is the search going?"

There was a short silence, then the voice replied, "I was going to call you as soon as I confirmed my lead. I think we’re getting close. We’ve been able to trace her last known location."

"Yeah?" Callan asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

"She was a housekeeper in the house of a man named Ryan Harris before she disappeared. We’re digging deeper into that now. I think we’ll get good news soon."

Callan closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead. Why did that name sound awfully familiar? He felt like he knew who the person was, but his head was too messed up to process it at the moment.

"Alright. Thanks," he said before hanging up.

He stood there for a long time still holding the phone.

Karen Combs. His birth mother. The woman who abandoned him with the woman he grew to know as his mother, who eventually abandoned him, too.

His therapist had said he needed to make peace with his past in order to be able to embrace his present and look forward to his future.

He couldn’t make peace with his past until he understood it. He needed to know why his biological mother abandoned him. He needed to know why the woman who had raised him also abandoned him.

Was he really cursed? Did he only bring badluck to everyone? Had he also brought badluck to his biological mother? Was that the reason she had abandoned him even before he could say his first word?

No matter how far he had come in his life, he was constantly expecting the worst from everyone, even his adoptive parents. A part of him was somehow waiting for them to abandon him too. And that was why he didn’t want to be the one to give them any reason to do so.

Callan sighed as he walked to the couch and sat down slowly. His eyes were tired, but he didn’t want to close them. He didn’t want to go back to sleep. Not with that nightmare waiting for him.

He would go see his therapist later in the day and find out if he could get some medication to quiet his mind. Something to stop the screaming in his head.

Even the sleeping pills had not blocked his nightmares and now even though he was still feeling sleepy because of them, he was too scared to give in. He just wanted to stay awake.

Callan turned on the television and picked up the game controller. The light from the screen filled the room. It felt safer that way. Like the nightmare couldn’t touch him while the screen was on.

He started to play. Mindless shooting. Running. Jumping. He played the same level again and again. It was better than silence.

And then he paused when the name came back to him.

Ryan Harris.

He blinked when it hit him. Ryan was the evil stepfather of Jamal’s girlfriend and Jamal was right there under his roof.

What were the odds that his birth mother just happened to have worked for the same evil man that Jamal was trying to save his girlfriend and son from?

Small world indeed.

He picked up his phone again and dialed Jamal’s line quickly.

Jamal answered almost immediately. "Cal? Shouldn’t you be sleeping?" Jamal asked with concern.

"I need your help," Callan said without answering his question.

"Sure. Shoot. What do you want me to do?" Jamal asked, wondering what Callan could possibly need from him since he hardly ever asked for favors.

"I’m trying to find someone. I just found out she used to work for Ryan Harris as his housekeeper and that’s the last place she could be traced to before she disappeared."

There was a pause on Jamal’s end. "Who is she to you?"

"My birth mother. Her name is Karen Combs. I need to know what happened to her and where I can find her," Callan continued. "Can you help me?"

Jamal frowned. Was Callan’s mother among the housekeeper’s who died in the fire Ryan caused to hide his evil deeds? He hoped not.

Jamal’s voice was serious now. "Yeah. I’ll look into it and get back to you," he said, even though he had no idea where to start searching from.

Who could he ask about it?

"Thanks," Callan said, his voice soft. "I appreciate it."

"Are you okay, though? You don’t sound like you’re fine," Jamal observed.

"I’m okay," Callan lied.

"Are you still having nightmares?" Jamal asked with a frown since he knew Callan often had nightmares even though he didn’t know what the nightmares were about.

"Yeah. But it’s nothing to worry about. I’ll let you get back to work. Thanks," Callan said, and hung up before Jamal could ask him any more questions.

Jamal frowned as he looked at his phone, wondering what was going on with Callan.

The fact that Callan had not made any jokes or even asked him how he was doing or what was happening with him, made Jamal even more worried about him.

He was still thinking about it when his phone rang again and he received a call from the delivery guy who had arrived to pick up the DNA samples.

Jamal glanced at Abigail’s office door before walking out of the office. As he left he couldn’t help but wonder why Genevieve was taking so much time in there.

He had returned from the errand she sent him long ago, yet she was still in there.

What were they discussing?