by Gary Corbin
Jordan found Rhonda in the pediatric wing of the hospital, seated next to the child’s bed, both arms wrapped around the hunky Asher Mulholland. “How’s Jada?” Jordan asked.
“Doctors say that Jada had missed a few meals and suffered from dehydration, but nothing serious,” Asher said with a reassuring smile at Rhonda.
“Says you!” Rhonda gave his nose a playful swat. “If only she could tell us everything that happened. The poor girl must have been frightened to death the whole time. I know I was!”
Asher hugged Rhonda again, then addressed Jordan. “We should be able to take her home soon. Child Services needs to read the police report and interview the doctor. God knows what they expect to find out.”
“I’ll speak to Adonna Matthison,” Jordan said. “And the doctors. Don’t you worry about custody. I’ll do everything I can to make sure things go your way.”
“Thank you, Detective,” Rhonda said. “So, it was Isaac who masterminded this whole thing?”
Jordan chuckled. “Hardly. Isaac was the local muscle—the errand boy of the international baby ring. He identified Jada as the target and hired the woman who pretended to be your mother, but he reported to much smarter and meaner people. It wasn’t his first attempt, but it will be his last.”
“And Rizzo...?”
Jordan shook her head. “Neither Isaac nor his accomplice named Rizzo, nor your brother. For now, they’re in the clear.”
Rhonda peeled herself out of Asher’s strong arms and wrapped Jordan into a bone-crushing hug. “Thank you for saving my baby.”
“I’d love to take the credit, but I can’t,” Jordan said. “Not much of it, anyway. Valorie Dawes is the one who found and stopped him. That girl knows how to use her head, in more ways than one.”
“Please extend my thanks to her also,” Rhonda said, breaking the embrace.
“Why don’t you thank her yourself?” Jordan said. “I’m heading over to her room next.”
Rhonda bowed her head. “I doubt she wants to speak to me right now.”
“I can’t imagine anyone she’d rather hear from than you,” Jordan said.
Rhonda turned to Asher, who dipped his head in a curt nod. “I’ll go with you.”
“No.” Rhonda held up her hand. “Stay with Jada, in case she wakes up. Ms. Jordan will come with me, won’t you, Detective?”
“Of course.” After giving her time to hug Jada again, the detective led Rhonda out of the room and down the hall to the Urgent Care wing. As they crossed the lobby, a curly-haired man with olive skin rushed toward them.
“Rhonda!” Marty Rizzo spread his arms as if to embrace Rhonda.
Rhonda let out a frightened yip and cowered behind Jordan. “Keep him away from me!” she whispered. “Please!”
“Keep your distance, Mr. Rizzo,” Jordan said. “Rhonda doesn’t want you here right now.”
“Where’s our baby?” Rizzo said. “I have a right to see her!”
“A certain restraining order says otherwise.” Jordan stretched both arms wide to block him from both Rhonda and Pediatrics.
“That’s a bunch of crap,” Rizzo said. “As her father, I have rights. I’ll sue. I’ll close this hospital if I need to!”
Jordan moved toward him. “Mr. Rizzo, please—”
“That won’t be necessary.” Rhonda emerged from behind Jordan and extended a hand to Rizzo. “Marty, I’m glad you’re concerned about her. If you promise to be good, I’ll allow you to visit with her for a few minutes.”
Jordan drew in a deep breath. “Rhonda, I don’t think—”
“It’s all right.” Rhonda faced Rizzo again. “Asher’s in there. He can take care of Marty if he misbehaves.”
“That boxer guy?” Rizzo backed up a step, his skin paling. “Listen, I’m not looking for trouble. I just want to hold my little girl.”
“And you may,” Rhonda said. “Asher won’t interfere. I’ll call him and tell him to keep a watchful eye on you, but to allow you in. Five minutes.”
Rizzo’s shoulders fell. “Okay, okay.” He took a step, then whirled back to face Rhonda again. “Listen, babe, I’m sorry about how things ended between us. Maybe you and me—maybe we can get together, try to work it out—”
“Forget it, Marty,” Rhonda said. “And the clock’s ticking. You’re down to four and a half minutes.”
Rizzo stared at her a moment, then dashed toward Pediatrics. “I haven’t given up on you!” he yelled over his shoulder. “I’ll never stop loving you!”
Rhonda rolled her eyes and burst into laughter. “Never stop? That man never once told me he loved me when we dated!”
“Follow your instincts on that one.” Jordan stopped her outside Val’s hospital room. “I’ll wait outside and let you two talk first,” she said.
“Okay,” Rhonda said, fidgeting and tying her fingers together into knots. “If you think it’s best.”
Jordan rested her hand on Rhonda’s shoulder. “You’ll be fine. Just be honest—with her, and yourself.”
Rhonda nodded, collected herself, pushed into Val’s room, and shut the door behind her.
VAL OPENED HER EYES at the sound of the hospital room door closing and opened them wider when she saw her visitor. “Well, hello, stranger,” she said. “I didn’t expect to see you today. How’s Jada?”
Rhonda shuffled over to the side of Val’s bed and held her hand. “Safe, thanks to you,” she said. “But my little girl has cried enough to last a month.”
Val grinned and sat up in the bed. Her fingers felt clammy and cold, but she swallowed her nervousness and squeezed Rhonda’s hand. “I’m glad. If someone ever took Ali...I don’t know how you coped during all that.”
Rhonda wiped tears from her eyes. “I wouldn’t have, without you.”
“Ah, I don’t know.” But Val’s eyes grew moist as well.
“Val...” Rhonda’s voice trailed off. A long moment passed. “I’m sorry for how I treated you. After all you did for me...I feel awful.”
Val squeezed Rhonda’s hand. “You were under so much stress. I would have behaved the same, or worse, I’m sure.”
“You’re too kind, Val.” Rhonda lifted her gaze and smiled. “I don’t deserve you.” Silence hovered in the air for several seconds, then Rhonda cocked her head. “I’m sorry, I haven’t even asked about your injuries!”
Val laughed, and it made her head ache. “The doctors found symptoms of a concussion, so they’ll hold me overnight for further observation. I’ll miss Criminology class—oh, damn! I never signed up for a research topic.” Her headache intensified, and she lay back down, freeing her hand from Rhonda’s. “Uh...did you sign us up, or...?”
Rhonda’s face grew long, her lips turned down in a sad frown. “Val, I can’t be your partner on the project. I’ve been thinking, and—”
“I understand,” Val said. She blinked away tears—where did they come from?—and closed her eyes. “Given the circumstances.”
“No, no, you don’t understand,” Rhonda said. She took Val’s hand again. “Please don’t tell Asher, but... I resigned from the University today. I’ve decided to return to Jamaica.”
Val shot upright again, redoubling the pain echoing around in her head. “Rhonda, are you positive you want to do that? Sure, this has been traumatic, but is Jamaica safer than Connecticut?”
Rhonda laughed. “Not for most people. But I grew up there, my family is there...I belong with them. Connecticut is...well, very white and middle-America, you know? Not as accepting for folk like me. And...for Jada.”
Val heaved a deep sigh. “What about your education, and the opportunities for Jada’s future? What about—”
“I will continue my studies there,” Rhonda said. “Val, I appreciate your concern. But I know what I want to do.” She squeezed Val’s hand one more time. “Please respect my wishes and the thought I’ve put into this.”
Val exhaled a noisy breath and smiled. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to ‘white-splain’. I guess I was just
hoping...we could, you know, be friends.” The tears she’d fought so hard won the battle and flowed down her cheeks. A new pain competed with the ones in her head and limbs, a hollow ache that tore at her heart and forced a lump into her throat.
“Valorie.” Rhonda edged closer, her face wet with tears. “We are friends, mon cher. Distance cannot get in the way of that.” She brushed a hair from Val’s eyes, letting her hand rest on Val’s cheek. “And if anyone ever kidnaps someone you love...well, my girl, I owe you one.”
Val laughed, unleashing a fresh torrent of tears. She wiped them away and blushed. “Lordy. Why am I blubbering so much? Must be the pain meds making me all mopey.”
“Must be,” Rhonda said, grinning.
Val gazed at her a long moment. “Selfishly, I want to keep arguing, to convince you to stay. But I won’t. Deep down, I want what’s best—for both of you.” She closed her eyes again and winced again at the pain.
“Goodbye, Valorie,” Rhonda said. “I won’t forget you...friend.”
“I won’t forget you, either,” Val said. Or at least, she hoped she said it. She couldn’t be sure.
When Val opened her eyes again, Rhonda was gone.
VAL LAY AWAKE FOR SEVERAL minutes, taking in all that had transpired over the past few days. She had embarked on a whole new adventure of starting college and living away from home. In so doing, she’d put her athletic scholarship at risk by missing one practice and arriving late to another. That she could blame on having gotten mixed up in a crazy kidnapping scheme, even getting abducted herself. A man had slugged her in the head and came within moments of killing her. Perhaps scariest of all, she’d made a new friend, something she rarely did growing up in Clayton.
And in the space of less than 48 hours, she’d already said goodbye to her new friend. She’d put herself out there emotionally, without even thinking about it, and come away with a fresh bruise on her heart.
Val had also created confusion in one area she’d thought nothing would ever shake. As a young girl, she’d committed to following in her uncle’s footsteps and becoming a police officer. But fighting crime turned out to be as dangerous as everyone said. Chad, Dr. Hirsch, even Detective Jordan had warned her about that. Now, having skirted with death, it felt far more visceral and real. The pain all over her body reinforced those negative thoughts.
A knock startled her out of her self-pity. “Ms. Dawes?” Tanisha Jordan said through the door. “May I come in?”
“Please do, Detective,” she called out. Or tried to. Her voice sounded so soft, she wondered if anyone heard her. But a moment later, the detective’s smiling face appeared at her bedside.
“Is this where the line forms to congratulate you for capturing Mansfield’s most dangerous felon?” Jordan said.
“Starts, and ends,” Val said with a tired smile. “All I did was let a man follow me, then turn my back on him at the worst possible moment. How stupid was that?”
“But you beat the crap out of him with both hands tied behind your back,” Jordan said. “Literally.”
“In front, technically,” Val said. “But, okay, when you put it like that, Detective—”
“Tanisha, please,” Jordan said. “We ought to be on a first name basis by now, don’t you think?”
“Sure,” Val said. “Tanisha.”
“Can I call you Valorie?” Tanisha asked in a soft voice.
Val nodded and smiled.
Jordan pulled the guest chair closer to the bed and sat, putting her head a foot or so from Val’s. “I hope all this hasn’t soured you on wanting to become a cop,” she said. “Although I’d understand if it did.”
“I’d be lying if I said it hadn’t,” Val said, her face reddening.
“It wasn’t fair of me to put you in harms’ way like that,” Tanisha said. “Without proper backup and training—hell, we wouldn’t send a seasoned officer out like that. It was a huge mistake, and I’m so sorry.”
“It all happened so fast,” Val said. “I guess I didn’t make very good choices. Probably not the kind of decision-making you’d hope for in a cop.”
“On the contrary,” Tanisha said. “You did remarkably well. You have excellent instincts, Valorie, and a real tenacity about you. You’re tough, quick-thinking, and smart. All qualities we seek when recruiting police officers.”
Val blushed again. “Thanks. That means a lot.” She paused a moment, let it sink in. “So, if I needed a letter of recommendation someday...”
“In a heartbeat.” Tanisha patted her hand. “Anywhere, anytime. But I hope you’ll apply to Mansfield when you’re ready. Of course, I’d have to recuse myself from the hiring process.”
Val frowned in puzzlement. “Why’s that?”
Tanisha smiled at her. “They might consider me biased, recommending one of my friends.”
Val smiled, then choked in surprise. “You think of me as your friend? A privileged white girl, half your age—”
“Hey, you calling me old?” Tanisha said in mock indignation. “That’s a hell of a thing to say.”
Horrified, Val fought for words. “No, I meant I’m just a kid, really—”
Tanisha burst into laughter. “Your buttons are easily pushed, aren’t they?” She laughed again, then grew more serious. “I mean it, Val. I hope this isn’t the last I see of you—personally or professionally.”
Warmth rose in Val’s chest. “I hope not, too, Tanisha.”
“So,” Tanisha said, “does this mean you’ve decided?”
Val thought for a moment. Having a female friend and a mentor to turn to made the prospect of police work seem much more attractive to her.
But that felt so clinical. She pushed her thoughts aside and listened to her heart. It spoke loud and clear, reinforcing what she’d known since grade school: her goal in life was to protect and to serve, just like her uncle Valentin.
“I have decided,” she said, taking Tanisha’s hand in hers. “When I graduate, I will return to Clayton and become a police officer.”
“Not Mansfield, Valorie?” Jordan asked in a teasing tone.
“I’ll keep Mansfield in mind as Plan B,” Val said. “And, Tanisha? Please.” She fixed the detective with a steady gaze and smiled. “My friends call me Val.”
Did you enjoy In Search of Valor?
Continue along with the adventures of
Valorie Dawes by downloading the next book in this series (A Woman of Valor) now!
From The Author
THANK YOU FOR READING In Search of Valor. If you enjoyed reading it, won’t you please take a moment to leave me a review at your favorite retailer? And please, tell your friends!
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ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
SOMETIMES A STORY IDEA comes to a writer from an outside source—something we might read in the news, see on TV, or chance upon in conversation. Other times, a story wakes the writer up at night and won’t go away until it gets written. In Search of Valor is one of the latter kind, interrupting my work on what will now be the third work in this series (A Better Part of Valor). It seems the story of Valorie Dawes will not be told in order, at least from the writer’s-desk point of view.
That being said, I kicked the idea around for this story with my usual cadre of trusted writer and reader friends, and they all responded with such enthusiasm that I knew it had to ta
ke precedence. Those people—Randal Houle, Kate Kort, and Debb Stanton—also provided significant and valuable feedback to early drafts, including rewrites, without which I would never have reached the finish line.
Patsy Silk not only provided story feedback, but also stepped up again as my editor and proofreader. I hope I fixed all the mistakes that she found. Any that I missed are my fault, not hers.
I can never give kudos enough to Steven Novak, whose creativity and patience with me once again yielded an amazing cover design.
Of course, my father, Donald Corbin, first dreamed up the basic story and main character for A Woman of Valor, and I loved it from the start. I wish you were still here, Dad, so you could read all of the other stories your idea inspired.
Nobody contributed more to my writing career than my dear mother Patricia Corbin, who awakened in me the love of books and reading, and always encouraged my love of writing.
But most of all, thanks to Renée, the kindest, most patient, most beautiful person I’ve ever known, whose smile lights up the darkest night and brightens the sunniest day. You not only patiently read my chapters and gave me feedback, but gave me love and encouragement, without which I would simply not be able to do this. Your support makes all of this possible. I love you.
About The Author
GARY CORBIN IS A WRITER, actor, and playwright in Camas, WA, a suburb of Portland, OR. His creative and journalistic work has been published in BrainstormNW, the Portland Tribune, The Oregonian, and Global Envision, among others. His plays have enjoyed critical acclaim and have been produced on many Portland-area stages.
Gary is a member of the Willamette Writers Group, Nine Bridges Writers, the Northwest Editors Guild, PDX Playwrights, and the Bar Noir Writers Workshop, and participates in workshops and conferences in the Portland, Oregon area.
A homebrewer and home coffee roaster, Gary is a member of the Oregon Brew Crew and a BJCP National Beer Judge. He loves to ski, cook, and root for his beloved Patriots and Red Sox. And when that’s not enough, he escapes to the Oregon coast with his sweetheart.