Remember My Name Read online

  Remember My Name

  Dara Girard

  Contents

  Remember My Name

  Betrayal

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Captivity

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Freedom

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Revenge

  Chapter 51

  Chapter 52

  Chapter 53

  Chapter 54

  Chapter 55

  Chapter 56

  Chapter 57

  Chapter 58

  Chapter 59

  Chapter 60

  Redemption

  Chapter 61

  Chapter 62

  Also Available

  About the Author

  Copyright Information

  Remember My Name

  Dara Girard

  * * *

  Published by ILORI PRESS BOOKS LLC

  www.iloripressbooks.com

  Smashwords Edition

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Author.

  * * *

  About the Book

  On a family trip abroad, ten year old Catherine Ojo goes missing.

  Her three stepsisters know what happened, but vow never to tell.

  Soon their shared silence uncovers dark family secrets and threatens to tear their family apart.

  But little do they know that thousands of miles away a young girl embarks on a nearly twenty year journey to reclaim the life stolen from her and make her sisters pay.

  Part I

  Betrayal

  1

  Lagos, Nigeria

  “No one can know what really happened,” Joscelyn Payton said in a low voice of both warning and demand as she stared at her two sisters. The sound of laughter, coming from their driver, who stood outside their window sharing a smoke with another man, pierced the tense silence of the room. Outside the expensive guest house, the sun melted slowly over the city of Lagos giving ample warning to those who needed to rush home before night descended—welcoming the dark elements that could grip the city and its residents in terror. But the three young women in the eggshell white room felt the icy fingers of darkness now, knowing that in a few moments they would have to face the consequences of what they’d done. “Am I clear?” she asked although she expected only one answer: Yes. At twenty and as the eldest, she’d grown used to getting her way.

  Marie bit her lip, casting a nervous glance at the clock. In a few minutes their parents would return from visiting family friends of their stepfather who lived in a neighboring town. This had

  been their first visit to the land of their stepfather’s birth and after five days in the country, he and their mother had been out a lot over the past two days having grown more comfortable leaving them alone. She rested her hands on either side of her as she sat on the side of the bed. At fifteen, and the youngest of the three girls, she had yet to gain her sisters’ confidence. “But what if—”

  Joscelyn shot her sister a cold look of rebuke. “Do I need to repeat myself?”

  “No,” Marie said, stumbling over the word. “I—I—it’s just—”

  Lorna giggled, nudging her younger sister with her elbow. At seventeen, she still enjoyed tormenting Marie who she saw as weak. “Now you’ve got her stammering.”

  “I knew you shouldn’t have come with us,” Joscelyn said, leaning back in her chair, a flash of annoyance crossing her pretty features. “You have no conviction. What’s done is done. There’s no going back.”

  “And it’s for the best,” Lorna added before Marie could protest, eager to agree with her older sister. She saw Joscelyn as her hero and was ready to follow whatever she said. “Don’t pretend you didn’t want this as much as we did.”

  Marie licked her lower lip. “I’m not saying that. It’s just—”

  “You think too much.”

  Marie swallowed and adjusted her glasses. “Are you sure there’s no way it can be traced back to us?”

  Joscelyn glanced out the large window as a spring sun settled over the city. “What can be traced to us?” she asked in a bored tone.

  “You know the--”

  She sent her sister a look of disgust. “That was a rhetorical question, dear. Try to keep up.”

  “Our problems are solved,” Lorna said, reaching across Marie to pick up the TV remote left on the side table. “Just relax.”

  Marie jumped to her feet, wishing she could. Wishing she could be as mature and sophisticated as her sisters. Why didn’t they care? Why weren’t they worried? Why couldn’t she feel happy about what they’d done? Lorna was right, this is what she wanted, but somehow it didn’t feel right.

  She glanced at Joscelyn, who looked as if she’d stepped out of one of the Nigerian lifestyle magazines her mother had lying on the coffee table. She had flawless cocoa skin, an elegant figure, and dark lashes and brows. Nothing bothered her. She was studying at the university and planned to be a neurosurgeon and nobody doubted that she would make it. Lorna was a smaller, slightly thicker version of Joscelyn, with Cupid's bow lips and laughing brown eyes. She kept her hair cut short and liked wearing dangling earrings to show off her neck. Marie felt like a baby giraffe next to them--all legs and neck. Not striking, but she wanted to be like them. She wanted to be like their mother, who’d given Lorna her figure and Joscelyn her face. She wanted to be like them. They were the Payton girls and that meant something.

  Joscelyn came up behind her and rested a hand on her shoulder. Although the touch was light, it felt like a lead weight. “It’s too late for second thoughts,” she whispered, her breath brushing Marie’s cheek, giving her goose bumps.

  “I’m not having second thoughts,” Marie lied, hoping she sounded convincing. She didn’t like to upset Joscelyn. That was a scary sight. She would never admit out loud that Joscelyn scared her sometimes, that she feared her eldest sister’s disapproval more than her mother’s.

  Marie shifted her gaze from the grassy courtyard to look at Joscelyn’s reflection in the window. She saw a cool, satisfied smile touch her sister’s lips. “Good, because there’s no going back. Her fate is sealed.”

  Marie returned her gaze to the setting sun, splashing the buildings in a brilliant array of red and orange. She nodded, feeling the impact of her sister’s words and the decision they’d made. And so is ours.

  2

  She didn’t expect her mother to scream. That wasn’t the react
ion she’d planned for. She’d planned for fainting, tears, even anger, but not screams. Screams that had the servants rushing into the living room where they all now stood. It was more drama than she liked and she truly didn’t like the staff seeing their business. Her mother was really making a to-do about nothing. Catherine wasn’t even blood related, just a stepchild her mother had acquired along with Dr. Emery Ojo’s millions.

  Joscelyn struggled to keep her tears in place, gripping her hands as she fought back anger. She wanted to cover her ears and tell her mother to stop it, but knew she had to act the role of distressed sister at all costs.

  “Darling, sit down.”

  Joscelyn looked at her stepfather, relieved. Yes, listen to your husband, Joscelyn silently pleaded. There’s no need to overdo this. She watched as her stepfather led her mother to the couch, instructing a servant to get her a glass of water. Joscelyn blinked her eyes, determined to keep the tears falling, she had to make sure that her mother saw how distraught she was. Show her how awful she felt.

  Her mother stared up at her, her eyes wide with fear. “What do you mean you lost her?”

  Joscelyn tightened her fist, wishing her mother didn’t have to continue to shout. She glanced at the protective hand her mother rested on her rounded belly. Pregnancy hormones. That had to be the cause of this hysterical behavior. Her mother was usually much more calm than this. Maureen Payton was known for her decorum and reserved behavior. She hadn’t even screamed when she’d learned her husband had been killed in a plane crash, leaving her nearly destitute with three young girls to raise. Others would have crumbled, but she’d survived, becoming a successful event planner before she met Emery Ojo who would change their lives. He was a successful dermatologist who owned a lucrative skin care line, toured around the world—and was paid handsomely—as a speaker, he owned a concierge clinic where patients paid an annual membership, and also was a consultant. He was the perfect second husband for her mother. Unfortunately, he came with a daughter. “I just turned my back for one minute and she was gone.”

  Maureen shifted her keen gaze to Marie and Lorna who stood behind Joscelyn on either side. Joscelyn didn’t dare turn to see their expressions, she just hoped it was as dejected and scared as she’d been able to manage. Her mother was smart; it wasn’t just her beauty and charm that had caught her stepfather’s eye. “And what do you two have to say?” she asked them, the stately Jamaican accent she’d perfected accentuating every word.

  “I was looking at statues,” Lorna said.

  “And I was looking at a mural,” Marie said. “I thought she was there.”

  Maureen pounded the arm of the sofa with her fist. “Why are you telling me this now?”

  Emery rested a hand on her shoulder. “Take deep breaths. This isn’t good for you or the baby. You have to be calm.”

  “How can I be calm when my daughters are stupid?” she said, waving away the maid who’d come into the living room to offer her bottled water and a glass.

  “We didn’t mean for it to happen,” Marie said then fell onto a couch, tore off her glasses and dissolved into tears.

  Maureen looked at her daughter, unmoved, then stared at Joscelyn. “Did you go to the police?”

  Joscelyn wiped a tear away, pleased that more continued to fall. Her tears were real now, although instead of being the bitter tears of sorrow, they were acid with rage. She didn’t like being called stupid, especially by her mother and for others to hear. “I thought maybe she’d show up here.”

  “An asinine and inadequate answer, but you already know that.” Maureen narrowed her eyes. “You’re not telling me something.”

  Lorna stepped forward, ever Joscelyn’s defender. “It’s the truth. She ran off. You know how she is when she wants something. It was just a minute and then she was gone. We searched all over and couldn’t find her.”

  “She’s ten, not five. What really happened?”

  Lorna’s voice rose with despair. “Why won’t you believe us?”

  “Because you don’t lose a child in a market!”

  Emery patted her shoulder, soothingly. “It’s happened before. All over the world, especially--”

  “I don’t care.”

  “My dear, they’re just as upset as anyone. There’s no need to be angry with them.”

  “I’m not angry,” she said slowly rising to her feet. “I’m furious. They should be too ashamed to even show their faces to me,” she said, her gaze touching on each one of them. “How dare you come home without her!” She grabbed Joscelyn’s arms and shook her. “You should have shouted ‘thief!’ to get the attention of others. You should have called us and told us the moment it happened. You should have had the police scouring the streets.” She cupped Joscelyn’s chin, meeting her gaze. “Now tell me what happened!”

  “We just told you,” Lorna said.

  Maureen’s mouth hardened. “Is that all?”

  “Something may have happened,” Joscelyn said in a soft voice, forcing her mother to lean in a little closer to hear her. “You’re right. We didn’t lose her in the market. We went somewhere we shouldn’t.”

  Maureen released her grip and took a step back. “Where?”

  “We wanted to see more of the city so we walked around a bit and got lost, but Catherine wanted to get something from a corner store she saw. It was down a side street. I let her go. I thought she’d come right back and I’ll admit I was angry. I thought she was playing games. So I followed her and....and she was nowhere around. I asked the store clerk if he’d seen her and he said no. When I left that’s when I saw them.”

  “Go on.”

  “I found her jacket and her shoe.”

  Maureen stared at her daughter for a long moment, then felt her legs give way. She would have collapsed to the ground if her husband and Lorna hadn’t caught her. She didn’t notice that Joscelyn made no attempt to help her. Her eldest daughter maintained her gaze, her brown eyes brimming with tears that strangely only fell intermittingly. Maureen didn’t remember walking back to her seat with their help or even sitting down. Her mind couldn’t process what she had just heard. She shook her head when her husband offered her the glass of water the maid had left on the side table. Fear gripped her heart so tight she thought it would stop beating. Her precious child was lost. Possibly stolen. Maureen had lived long enough to know the dangers the streets afforded a young girl alone. Especially in a big city in another country.

  She would not let that happen. She took a deep breath. She would find her. It was all just a mistake. She would get a call soon. The police had found her, she was scared but safe. Someone would find her and return her home. This wasn’t happening.

  She took a steadying breath, then said in a calm voice, “Get the car.”

  “You haven’t said a word,” Maureen said to her husband as they drove to the police station.

  “What do you expect me to say?”

  “Something. Aren’t you worried?”

  “Of course I’m worried.”

  “You can go ahead and blame me if you want to.”

  “I don’t want to do that.”

  “Why not? I blame myself. I should have known better than to leave her with them.”

  Emery glanced at the three sullen young women sitting in the back seat. “They can hear you.”

  “Good. They should feel as guilty as I do.”

  “I’m sure she’ll be fine.”

  “Is that what you keep telling yourself? Is that why you’re driving like an old woman on a Sunday drive?”

  “Do you see this traffic?” he said motioning to the chaos ahead of them, the crush of cars, motorcycles weaving in and out, pedestrians walking between cars—some trying to cross the streets, others selling goods. When one young man knocked on the window and waved a toy, she turned away. “We should have stayed at the guest house and let the police come to us.”

  Maureen glanced up at a building. “I couldn’t wait.”

  “And it will be night soon.
”

  “There’s still plenty of time. Besides, you can always get an escort back if you need it,” she said without concern. She couldn’t tell him how desperate she had been to get out. She had to feel as if she was doing something. She looked through the crush of people coming in and out of shops, hoping to see Catherine. “You should have used the driver.”

  “I know how to navigate these streets.”

  “Then navigate them faster.”

  He sighed. “Getting there faster won’t change anything.”

  “The first forty-eight hours are crucial. But as a doctor you know every minute counts.”

  “I also know that having a clear head is crucial.”

  “My head is perfectly clear.” She glanced in the rearview mirror at her three daughters. “But obviously the minds of my offspring are as clear as mud. Or like something else with the same color and consistency but more stink.”

  “Tossing insults at them won’t make their memories any sharper.”

  “Stop sticking up for them.”

  “Why are you getting angry with me?”

  “Because your calm demeanor is more annoying than comforting. You seem resigned somehow. As if nothing can be done.”

  “That’s not how I feel, but I can’t tell you what you want to hear. I can’t tell you that everything will be okay. That we’ll ever see her again--”

  “Shut up.”

  He gripped the steering wheel and his voice trembled. “We must face the possibility—”

  “I told you to shut up. You’re not making any sense.”

  Emery sighed. He knew more than anyone else the chances of finding his daughter were slim. “But I feel—”

  “That feeling is wrong. That feeling is fear and it’s something to be ignored. You can’t look for something you don’t expect to find.”

  “And what if we don’t find her?”

  “I don’t plan to ever answer that question.”