Have Mercy

by N. E. Henderson

I ignore his half-hearted bitch fit. I know it’s true and he knows it’s true, but the fact is, if we didn’t preface things, Josh would have had a heart attack well before now. He doesn’t do well with surprises. “You know the anonymous guy I told you about that helped us on our case?”

  “The one that gave up a tip on the girls?”

  “That’s the one.”

  “Yeah. What about him?” he asks, leaning over the desk and moving the mouse between the screens.

  “He sent me more information,” I say, and then pause, waiting for him to stop what he’s doing and give me his full attention.

  “Well, you planning on spilling or did you want me to guess, Cat?”

  “It was an analysis of DNA.”

  He finally stops, looking over his shoulder. “Why would we care about DNA? We aren’t in forensics.”

  “This isn’t one of our cases. This is personal information.”

  His body stills before he twists around to face me, a pensive look on his face as he sits on the edge of the desk, crossing his arms. “Then I suggest you stop beating around the goddamn bush and tell me whatever the fuck it is.”

  “Brandon and Maggie are first cousins.”

  “Come again?” His ass jumps off the edge of the desk, his feet bringing him a step closer to me.

  “You and Julia are siblings. How is that possible?” My question comes out more like an accusation than I meant it. Logically, I know if that was something Josh had known, he would have told me.

  “It’s not. Whoever you’ve been talking to is playing you. And I want to know why, so I suggest you take your ass to that fucking computer and find out who this motherfucker is right fucking now.”

  “I already know who he is. I don’t have all the info, but I will by this afternoon.”

  “Who is he?” he demands.

  I shake my head. “Not giving up my source yet. At least not while your temper is flared.”

  “You want to see fucking flared? If you don’t tell me who the fuck took my daughter’s DNA, if they even took it at all, you’ll see goddamned flared. Who?”

  “Cool your shit, Josh. Maggie isn’t in any danger.”

  “I’ll be the judge of that. You start talking now, goddammit or I’ll make you talk, Cat. Don’t push me. You know I have the ability to bring you to your knees like no one else can.”

  His threat isn’t one I take lightly. He hasn’t made any in years. Not since weeks before he released me. I know he’s serious. I knew he would be pissed off and I knew he’d go on the defense. That’s why I knew I couldn’t tell him it was Danny—not at first. He needs to cool down so that he can see clearly, think clearly. A clear-headed Joshua Breckett knows that the one person—besides himself—that Maggie is safe with is my son.

  I step forward, and then another until my boots are toe to toe with his. Tipping my head back, I look him in the eyes. “You ever make that threat again, Breckett, and I’ll show you the person you turned me into. You’re the one that doesn’t need to push me.”

  Threatening Josh has never ended well for anyone. I’ve never done it before now, but I won’t be the one to back down first. He stands in front of me, staring down, his arms still crossed, while mine are planted firmly on my hips.

  “You got to the count of three . . . two . . . on—”

  The door flies open and we both turn, seeing Jessica. “School just called. Maggie walked out of class fifteen minutes ago. She left school grounds and her phone is going to voicemail.”

  That isn’t like Maggie. She doesn’t break the rules. That’s the one thing I can always count on when it comes to Danny’s girlfriend.

  What the hell is going on?

  And why do I get the sinking feeling I’m not going to like it?

  33

  — Danny —

  I’m not going to say it was a shock watching my father walk out of my mother’s bedroom this morning. I had a feeling that was where he was when I got home last night. Neither were in the living room or the kitchen or on our back patio. But his Range Rover wasn’t parked out front, so there was also a possibility he wasn’t here. Though I see the way he looks at her, watches her, and it’s obvious he’s still in love with her.

  I haven’t decided if I’m okay with that, or if I’m not okay with him loving my mom.

  I have to give it to him, though, he’s handling it a lot better than I ever imagined he would. It can’t be easy to learn you have another kid you never knew anything about, or that the girl you once didn’t believe had unspeakable things done to her. I’d imagine that must be hell. I can sympathize with him on the first, but I can’t when it comes to how he once treated my mom. What he did, the way he broke her and her heart, is worse than any amount of physical or mental abuse Josh dealt out.

  Not that Maggie’s dad is a saint, or a man that deserved the forgiveness my mom offered him. She and I have never spoken about it. I mean, she just found out that I know Josh was the one that took her all those years ago. I have no doubt it wasn’t easy for her to let the things he’s done go, but I’ve never understood, not fully anyway, how she can work with him day in and day out.

  I’ve only known the truth for the past year. I knew there were things she kept secret. After all, she told me there would be things that she’d never share, and she expected me to accept that. I couldn’t. It’s not in me to accept anything short of the facts, the truth, the whole story, especially where my mother’s concerned.

  She started teaching me how to hack into computers and databases when I was ten. I thought it was cool, at first . . . okay, so I still think it’s cool. There’s an adrenaline rush to it. One similar to fighting and winning a match against an opponent on a mat, in a ring, or even closed in a cage.

  I don’t think she ever intended for me to be as good as I am, as thorough and virtually undetectable as I am. Once I got the taste, I couldn’t stop. I spend hours and hours in front of a computer screen when I’m supposed to be sleeping. In a way, it’s similar to how my brother got addicted to cocaine last year. Someone offered him something they should have never offered, and suddenly he wanted that feeling over and over again. Like me with hacking, he couldn’t get sated enough to walk away.

  I don’t think that douchebag will ever deal again for the rest of his pathetic, rich boy life. At least he better not, or the beating I gave him that landed him in a hospital for four weeks will feel like a walk in the park if I get ahold of him again. Motherfucker rolls on me, tells someone he knows who was behind his attack, and it’ll be even worse. It could end his life.

  I run the chain of my black, diamond-studded cross across my lips, over and over as I turn things over in my head. I can’t hold it away from my chest for too long or it’ll send a notification to my mom that my heartbeat isn’t being detected. And then she would freak the fuck out; worse than the reaction I had two nights ago when I discovered my father had my mom’s necklace in his possession rather than it being around her neck like it should have been.

  My necklace, like hers, is in the shape of a cross. There’s no reason behind hers being that way that I know of. Maybe there is and she just never told me. Mine, on the other hand, is because deep down she knows I border on having no conscience, and she thinks having it around my neck will remind me what’s right from what’s wrong.

  It’s not that I don’t feel, because I do. I just don’t feel bad for causing pain to someone else. If someone steps in a match against me, they’re accepting and asking for any pain I give; the same as I’m doing with them. If it’s outside a match or my training, then I’m only doing it if the other person deserved it. Like that dumbass college guy that sold drugs to Brandon. He picked the wrong guy’s brother to mess with. Or the unknown person, whose cell phone I hacked last week, finding kiddy porn. I didn’t feel bad when I saw his picture on the news when he was arrested after I sent the files to the local authorities. I certainly didn’t feel any remorse when I hacked into my mom’s work files, reading through her open c
ases. It led to the rescue of three women. The only thing that bothers me is that the bastards behind their capture got away.

  It’s okay though. I know my mom and her team will catch them eventually, but it’ll take other girls getting abducted first.

  I eye the clock on the wall above Mr. Bell, my English teacher’s head, seeing that it reads nine forty-two. Still the beginning of second period. Brandon didn’t answer when I called him from my driveway before leaving home. He didn’t answer when I called him after I parked at school and his truck wasn’t here. He hasn’t responded or read any of my ten text messages either. I was ticked off before, now I’m getting antsy. Nothing good comes when I get this way. His ass better be in bed with the fucking flu, and if he doesn’t respond to the text I’m pounding out now, then so help me God . . .

  Me: If you don’t respond, I’m going to beat your ass.

  Me: I’m not even joking here, bro.

  I wait all of two minutes, staring at my cell phone, not even caring if Mr. Bell catches me with it. I’m not Brandon. I can afford to get into trouble if need be. He can’t. He also can’t miss class. He’s zero point four points from being knocked down to salutatorian versus valedictorian if he doesn’t mind his Ps and Qs and stay on top of shit this year. He fucked off too much last year and let things slip. It gave our fucktard of a principal’s son a fighting chance for that spot.

  I’ll be damned if anyone takes that from my brother. I could easily be positioned next to Brandon, but I’m not allowed to draw attention to myself. I never have been, and I’m okay with that. I’ve never liked the limelight, and maybe that’s because my mom’s paranoia sometimes rubs off on me.

  Like now.

  I grab my backpack, leaving class without permission because there is a sinking feeling in my gut that won’t go away. I reason with myself that it’s never been this bad, never been this debilitating—that’s gotta mean something.

  “Daniel,” Mr. Bell calls out. “Where do you think you’re going?”

  “Bathroom, Mr. B,” I say, opening the door.

  “You know you’re supposed to ask first, son.”

  “No can do,” I throw over my shoulder. “Gotta go real bad, if ya feel me.”

  I don’t wait for his reply before I shut the door behind me, striding faster than normal. When I finally make it outside the school doors, luckily without any teacher or administrative staff stopping and asking questions, I jog until I reach my truck.

  Maggie has AP English with Brandon and me, so I know she’s wondering where I really went. She’s worked her ass off to advance one grade so that she could graduate with me.

  She can also tell when I’m lying through my teeth, which is what I was doing when I walked out of class. I don’t do it often, but when I do, she and my mom are the only two people that can see straight through me. Probably because like me, her dad taught her how—just in case anything ever happens to where she’d need those particular skills. Josh doesn’t show as plainly as my mother does, but the same paranoia that lives in her also lives in him when it comes to his wife and daughter.

  It’s why I’m given free rein when it comes to Maggie. He wasn’t happy when I told him how far I was planning on taking things with his young and innocent daughter; his only daughter. In fact, he was downright pissed off that I had the audacity to tell him that to his face. I wasn’t asking his permission. I was giving him a heads up so he wouldn’t be blindsided. Josh knows there is no one besides himself that she’s safer with. He knows I’d do anything, go to any lengths to keep her safe, and for that reason and that reason alone, I’m able to do just about anything without fear that he’s going to beat my ass over her at any given time.

  Of course, that doesn’t mean he doesn’t want to. And there are times he pushes our training a little far so that he can get that need out of him. I do the same, so it’s not like I can say that much. I struggle with what he did to my mom and I have to constantly remind myself he isn’t that person anymore, but sometimes, my thoughts and feelings get the best of me and I end up fighting dirty.

  It’s a win-win for both of us. He gets to lay hits on me for sleeping with his underage daughter, and I get to do the same for the beating he dealt out to my pregnant mother.

  Even though I know Josh is a changed man, a better man, my girlfriend is the sole reason I don’t do anything permanent to him. She’s the only one that keeps me in check—she just doesn’t realize how often or why. And she likely never will. Like Josh, I don’t want her to know certain shit. She doesn’t need her view of her dad tainted with a past he can’t undo.

  I wasn’t lying when I told my father I wouldn’t change anything that has happened or didn’t happen if given the chance. Maggie and my brother wouldn’t be in my life today if things had gone according to my parents’ life plans when they were my age.

  No one is taking Brandon or Maggie from me. I need them more than they need me. They are my lifelines, like now, when I feel almost to the point of panic, I do what I have to do, knowing my girlfriend isn’t going to be happy with me. But it wasn’t like I could have drug her out of class with me. That would have put up too many red flags. Questions would have been asked. They would have called our parents, which is still likely, but hopefully I’ll get to where I need to be before that happens. My mom is going to shit a brick when she finds out too.

  Me: Babe, I need you to leave class now. Make up something or just walk the fuck out. Idk but find your dad and get to him ASAP. Don’t leave his side until I get to you.

  Maggie’s reply is almost immediate like she was holding her phone in her hand.

  Mine: What’s going on?

  I remember the day I programmed the term ‘mine’ in my phone rather than Maggie’s name. She is mine and she’ll never be anyone else’s. I told her that once when she was five and I was almost seven. I didn’t even understand the true meaning of that word; I just knew it was true.

  Me: No time to explain. Just do as I say.

  Mine: Umm, no. Where did you go?

  Only she and Brandon have the ability to irritate me the way they both love to do. They get a kick out of it, and sometimes do it on purpose or even team up together.

  Me: So help me God, Mags, if you do not do what I say, I promise, when I get back, I’ll make sure your dad grounds you, doesn’t let you go to prom, and locks you in your fucking room until I say you can come out. Am I clear?

  Mine: WTF and where the hell did you go? Mr. Bell just sent Lane to look for you. Where are you?

  I can picture the look on her face without seeing her. I know her mouth dropped open when she read my text and I know her light blue eyes clouded with sparks.

  Me: Not telling you. I need you to do what I say so that I’m not worried about you too.

  Mine: You’re scaring me, Danny.

  Me: Babe . . . please.

  There are very few people that I would beg, Maggie being one of them. I’m just not built that way. I want things my way, and most of the time, I think my way is the right way, the only way, so when people don’t do that or argue, I tend to get livid. I think that has a lot to do with Josh’s influence on me more than anything.

  Mine: Okay, Danny. I trust you, so I’ll go.

  Me: After you find out where Josh is, turn off your cell completely.

  Mine: Why would I do that?

  Me: Because I said so!!

  Mine: The reason oh bossy one?

  Me: MAGGIE!!!!!

  Mine: You better not be doing anything stupid.

  Mine: And you better answer all my questions when I see you.

  Me: Why isn’t your ass in your car yet?

  Mine: Maybe because my boyfriend is acting like a jerk.

  Me: Move. Your. Ass.

  Mine: I’M GOING!!

  Mine: But you better remember what I said. NOTHING STUPID! Or I’ll kick your ass, and don’t think I need my daddy to do it for me. I’m perfectly capable of whooping your ass myself, baby.

  She actually
probably could. One, she isn’t like most girly girls. She knows how to fight, and she knows how to use a gun just as well as she knows how to wield a knife. And two, I’d never stop her from hurting me if she really wanted to. We sometimes train together, I teach her techniques the same as her dad does, so I know her strength, but never would I show her mine. Not with her anyway.

  Me: Stop texting and get your ass out of school.

  If I wasn’t in a rush and if my gut wasn’t telling me something is wrong, I would have replied back with ‘promise’ instead of my asshole demand. I’m a dick to most people, but I’m rarely one to my girl. Maggie is the sweetest, kindest person I’ve ever met. She’s sassy and even tough in her own right, but she is still an angel. An angel that I worship at her feet on most days, and one I will never let anyone hurt.

  While I’m waiting for her to walk out, I check my phone for Brandon’s location again. His cell phone location still shows his house the same as it did this morning, and the same as when I checked before I went to sleep last night, because yeah, at seventeen, I suffer the same issues my mother does. I get it honestly.

  I’m not allowed to have access to my mom’s account that shows her the location of where we are at all times as well as our heart rate via the tiny device she has embedded in our matching necklaces. She thinks giving me that access is going a bit too far. She doesn’t want me to develop the paranoias she has. She’s too late for that, which is why I took it upon myself to hack her account.

  Hacking an application is easy. Kids can do it, so it’s not like she should be surprised if she ever finds out.

  When the app opens, I tap the screen on my brother’s name and then wait for it to do its thing to locate him.

  Her house.

  I refuse to call that place Brandon’s house, the same as I refuse to call her his mother. She isn’t; my mom is.

  I’ve never been in that house before. That’s one of the only things I ever promised my mom I wouldn’t do. She moved us here for Brandon, and upon doing so, she made me swear I’d never go over there, not even the driveway to pick him up. And until now, I’ve kept that promise.