The Departed

by Shiloh Walker

  Dez shook her head. “I think you should leave them in there.”

  Taylor opened his mouth to argue, but she slanted a look his way. “He wants to talk. He’s scared and he wants to talk…Give him a chance to do the right thing.”

  “And if he was involved in that boy’s death?”

  “I won’t let him talk about that right now. I just want to know about the girl…and what happened today.” She made a face at him. “I’m not new at this, you know. And it’s not like I don’t know what not to ask or anything. I can keep him from talking about shit he shouldn’t talk about without a lawyer. But you need to at least give him a chance…and let him have his folks. I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”

  Hell. So did he.

  Against his better judgment, Taylor nodded and stepped aside, following Dez into the hospital room.

  * * *

  IF the boy had looked pale and scared yesterday, it was nothing compared to how he looked now.

  Pale and scared and bruised didn’t even cover it.

  He must have sensed the tension from his parents, because Dez and Taylor hadn’t been in the room more than five seconds before the boy opened his eyes and turned his head to look at them.

  Dez ignored the parents, focusing solely on Mark. She’d wondered if she would feel regret coming from him—regret for helping her yesterday—but so far…no. All she felt was exhaustion and pain. And fear. A lot of it.

  “Hey.” She studied the big-ass bandage on his head and wondered how many stitches were under it. “Don’t take this wrong, man, but you look like hell.”

  He gave her a weak grin. “Well, maybe it’s a good Halloween costume.”

  “You think they’ll let you out to go trick-or-treat?” She moved around and eased a hip down on the edge of the bed, automatically sensing the best way to reach out to him, talk to him. He was tired of hiding, tired of being afraid, tired of lying.

  He really did want to talk.

  So she’d let him. And she’d hope his parents loved him as much as they seemed to.

  “Nah. I scrambled my brains—they’re keeping me for a day or so, they tell me.” He closed his eyes and sighed. “Better off in here for a while, I guess.”

  “Yeah. I’m thinking so. Although I’m curious just how you ended up in here.” She waited until he opened his eyes and looked back at her. Then she lifted a brow and asked, “You got any idea what happened?”

  His mother reached over and laid a hand on his shoulder. “He already explained all of this. He lost control of his bike. It happens.”

  Dez ignored the mom. “You look awful scared, Mark. People who look that scared are usually scared for a reason.”

  A muscle jerked in his jaw. He blinked rapidly, like he was trying to get something out of his eye…or maybe like he was trying not to cry. A harsh sob escaped him.

  “I wanted to tell somebody,” he blurted out.

  Mark’s dad straightened. “What’s going on here?”

  “Dad, I wanted to tell you—”

  The older man held up a hand. “I don’t know what’s going on, Mark, but you need to be quiet now. I want a lawyer in here.”

  “There’s no need for one,” Dez said quietly. “I’m not a cop.”

  Mark shifted his glance to Taylor and lifted a brow. “Don’t tell me he isn’t.”

  Dez turned her head and looked at Taylor. “Taylor. Can you go outside?”

  Taylor narrowed his eyes.

  “He wants to do the right thing.” She held his gaze, silently begging him to listen. “Let him talk…and when he’s done, we’ll know if we need to have him protected—I’ll tell you. You know I’ll let you know. Later, the cops can talk to him. He’s not going anywhere.” She shifted her eyes to the boy and asked, “Are you?”

  Mark swallowed and whispered, “No.”

  “Mark, be quiet. You don’t need to say anything else,” his mother said, glaring at Dez. “Whatever this is, we’ll deal with it. I don’t want you in trouble.”

  He laughed, but the sound was harsh and ugly. “I don’t need to say anything? Damn it, Mom, I do, too. I need to, because not saying anything is killing me. I can’t live with this inside me. And you don’t want me in trouble? I deserve trouble.”

  “Mark…”

  He looked up at his dad and said quietly, “You always taught me that when I screwed up, I had to accept responsibility. That’s what I’m going to do.” He looked back at Dez and said, “I want to tell you. He doesn’t have to leave.”

  Taylor swore under his breath, then looked at Dez before looking back at Mark. “Actually, it’s probably best if I do. Ms. Lincoln isn’t…well, she’s not bound by the same constraints that I am. Think of her the way you’d think of a doctor or a priest, for the time being. You can talk to her. But it’s best that I’m not in here while you discuss this.” Then he gave Mark a faint smile. “I’ve met grown men who lack your courage, you know that? As admirable as it is, it makes it harder for me to walk out…but I’m glad to see it.”

  Without another word, he turned around and left the room. As the door swung shut behind him, Dez looked back at Mark. “I don’t want to know anything except what was going to happen yesterday and what happened today—I need to know about the girl and I need to know if you’re in danger, Mark. Got that? I don’t want to hear what happened months ago and I don’t want you trying to tell me. You can tell the cops all that later…with a lawyer, damn it. Get a good one, one who can cut you a deal. But for now…Yesterday. Today. That’s all…Am I clear?”

  He stared at her and nodded slowly.

  “Okay, then. Are you in danger? Did somebody try to hurt you?”

  “Yeah.” He licked his lips and then glanced at his mom when a harsh, startled cry escaped her. “I’m sorry, Mom. For everything.”

  He looked back at Dez and said, “It was Beau. I recognized his Mustang—he has a plate on the front of the car, it reads BOKXASS: ‘Beau kicks ass.’ I didn’t see him, but I know that Mustang. I was riding, and he was almost on top of me, getting faster. I just jerked the handlebars, felt the wheel hit something. I…I don’t know after that.”

  As his parents crowded around him, Dez remained silent. Finally, though, his father asked, “Mark, are you sure it was Beau? I mean, why would he do that?”

  Mark started to cry then.

  Deep, ugly sobs. There was poison in those tears, Dez suspected, poison that had been festering inside him for months and months. His parents stared at him, in complete and utter shock, for the longest time. Then, slowly, they looked at her. His dad was the first one to start to understand, and she saw that dawning horror, watched as he stumbled back a little from the boy who desperately needed him.

  Rising, Dez moved and slid an arm around Mark’s shoulders as she met the father’s gaze. “You know what happened yesterday,” she said quietly.

  The older man nodded.

  “Your son was there. He could have done two things: He could have screwed around and made it harder for me to help. Or he could have done what he did. He made it possible for me to help…whatever else happens, whatever you hear, remember that.”

  The mother continued to stare at them, mystified.

  Dez ignored them and caught one of Mark’s hands in hers. “You need to get this out, Mark. You said it yourself. It’s killing you. Get it out…and let me help. However I can, I’ll help.”

  * * *

  IT was hours later before Taylor saw Dez again. The day had slipped away from him without giving him much time to think about Anna, and what tomorrow was. He’d get up early to visit her grave, to take her the flowers. God knew he spent a lot of time thinking about her anyway, no matter where he was.

  He stood in the hallway outside the small hospital lounge, where Mark’s mother was alone, weeping. The family’s day hadn’t gotten any easier. In fact, after Mark had made his confession to Dez, it had gotten worse—so much worse.

 
The boy had started having seizures. Apparently he’d had a lot of trouble with them when he was younger, although they’d leveled off as he’d gotten older. The stress, Taylor imagined. Especially once it was discovered the boy was showing signs of going into alcohol withdrawal.

  Like that family didn’t have enough on their hands, he thought, staring out the window as Mark’s mother fought to control her sobs. Her husband was in the room with their son, and she’d been in there as well, up until twenty minutes earlier.

  But now…now she was out here, crying as though her heart was breaking.

  Taylor suspected she hadn’t wanted to break down in front of Mark—so hard for parents to always stay strong around their children. He guessed she needed a few minutes to get the tears out without upsetting her son. He couldn’t blame her.

  One thing was certain, though. Mark wouldn’t be talking to the cops for a few days yet. While part of Taylor was impatient, there was another part of him that thought this was better—the sooner the boy talked, the sooner the other boys would know. Then they’d have time to shore up their defenses even more.

  For now, Mark was as safe as he could be, safe and being kept from all visitors…including cops and friends. Until they had the withdrawal symptoms and the seizures under control, Mark’s visitations would be very, very limited. And very controlled.

  When Dez showed up and came to stand beside him at the window, he spared her a quick glance.

  “She looks like she’s had her heart ripped out,” Taylor said, his voice flat.

  Dez sighed. “It’s only going to get worse. Wait until he confesses that he knew three of his friends had killed Tristan and he hadn’t done anything about it.”

  “Fuck.” He shoved a hand through his hair and shook his head. “Why? Damn it, why didn’t he say anything?”

  “He was scared. Tristan, the kid who brought me here, he was the guy everybody liked; everybody respected him. Or almost everybody. Some of the kids were even scared shitless of him—on their own, they wouldn’t have messed with him. You don’t expect that kind of guy to become a target, but that’s what they did—they targeted him, plotted his death, carried it out, made it look like he’d merrily had a poisoned cocktail. They got away with it, too. Mark was scared it would happen to him. In his shoes, how do we know we wouldn’t have done the same?”

  “You wouldn’t.” Taylor snorted and shook his head. Then he sighed. “But in the end, he did the right thing…and I think he knew they would try to do something. They still might. Telling you took guts.” He paused, then added, “There’s somebody watching over him. It’s not a cop from the department, though.”

  Dez narrowed her eyes. “What do you mean, it’s not a cop?”

  “Calm down. It’s actually better this way. Right now, everything is still quiet—nobody knows but his family, you…and this friend they got on the door. An ex-cop,” he said, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Retired from Louisville and moved back home a few years ago. And it’s somebody who volunteered—a guy by the name of Luther—he works with him at the hotel. He’s friends with the family and when he heard about what happened, he showed up here, offered to watch over him. Seems like he’d suspected something was bothering the kid.”

  “Ex-cop. Cop. Same thing.” She reached up to toy with the chain at her neck, a worried look on her face. “We’re sure we can trust him?”

  Taylor gave a short nod. “I’m sure. You’ll probably feel better if you talk to him, get a read on him yourself. But he’s got a look in his eyes. He’s pissed. Good and pissed. Anybody wants to hurt that kid, they’ll have to go through him. He’s already kicking himself for not realizing how bad the kid was messed up inside.”

  “Woulda been nice if he’d said something to somebody,” Dez muttered, shaking her head.

  “He probably didn’t realize it was this bad,” Taylor said. “And the boy hid everything very well. His dad is a counselor, you know that? A counselor—didn’t realize his son was an alcoholic.”

  “He hid it well.” She blew out a breath and glanced back at the mother. “I wonder if I should talk to her.”

  Taylor grunted and stepped aside. She lifted a brow at him and he said, “You already know you’re going to talk to her.”

  “And you know this…how?”

  “Because you came over here.” He glanced toward the woman and then back at Dez. “You can’t stand to see suffering. It’s in your nature to try to ease it if you can. If you didn’t think you could, you wouldn’t have come over here.”

  “And it’s not possible that I came over here to talk to you?”

  His only response to that was a smirk.

  Sighing, she looked back at the woman. Then she lifted a hand to the glass window, pressed her palm flat to it. “Her pain is enough to steal my breath away. I can’t hear her thoughts well, but every now and then, even through my shields, I hear something—she keeps thinking how close she came to losing him. And then she keeps wondering what she did wrong, how he could have done something so awful.”

  “Do you blame her?”

  “No.” She looked at him. “I’m angry at that boy—so angry. But I’ve also felt his pain, his fear. And it would have been so easy for him to pretend ignorance, or try to stop me. To just keep hiding under the covers. He’s trying…that’s more than the other bastards will ever do, I guarantee you that.”

  She closed her eyes and squared her shoulders. Then, taking a deep breath, she opened the door and slipped inside.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  TALKING to Mark’s mom had been hard. By the time she was done, Dez’s heart was battered and bruised. By comparison, going to Ivy’s room felt a little easier. Like trying to juggle three chainsaws instead of four, perhaps.

  Her parents were sitting at her bedside, there was hospital security at the door, and Dez was scrutinized within an inch of her life. Jeez, the rent-a-cop took his job seriously. But she was kind of happy to see it. At least she knew anybody else going inside that room would get the same hard once-over.

  She hoped.

  As the girl on the bed turned toward her, Dez summoned up a smile. It wasn’t easy. Ivy still looked so battered and worn. But when she saw Dez, a tired smile lit her pretty face.

  “Hi!”

  Dez stopped at the foot of the bed. “Hey. You’re looking better.”

  Ivy made a face. “No, I’m not. But I feel better. I get to go home tomorrow.”

  “That’s good.” She glanced at the woman on Ivy’s left and gave her a polite smile. “Ma’am.”

  Dez looked back at Ivy. “Have you talked to the police?”

  Terror turned the girl’s eyes all but black. She cowered into the bed, clutching the blankets to her. “Nuh…no. I…I can’t tell them anything. I don’t remember…”

  “Ma’am, we’ve already discussed this. Ivy doesn’t remember enough to help. I don’t know who you are, but I won’t have you upsetting her—” This came from the big-ass guy sitting next to her. As he spoke, he came out of the chair, taking one step toward Dez.

  Dez lifted a brow at him. Sweetie, if you think that’s going to do anything to intimidate me, you need to think it through a bit more. “Upsetting her?” Dez said quietly.

  “Yes, upsetting her. She didn’t sleep—she can’t sleep.” The girl’s mom glared at Dez, her eyes snapping.

  “I can understand that.” Dez looked away from the man, away from the woman, and focused on Ivy. “And if you can’t remember, then there’s not much you can do to help, I suppose.”

  Taking a chance, she lowered her shields. Things were so fucking weird here, anyway, she didn’t know what she’d get from this girl. Not much…but enough. Ivy wasn’t being completely honest. She didn’t remember much of what happened here, but she knew something about who’d hurt her. Who had taken her. “Tell me something, Ivy. How well are you going to sleep knowing the boy who did this to you is still out there?”

  Ivy whimp
ered, bringing her hands up to cover her face.

  “Damn it, that’s it, you get out of here.” The man reached to grab Dez, and she stepped back.

  “You don’t want to do that,” she warned.

  “Joey…”

  The soft, broken sob came from Ivy.

  “Sweetie, it’s okay, I’ll get her out.”

  “No. You…” Ivy lifted her face to stare at Dez. “She’s right. Oh, God, you’re right…”

  She started to sob. As her mother leaned over and wrapped her arms around her, she glared at Dez. “How can you upset her like this? You have no idea what happened to her!”

  Ivy shoved her away. “Shut up, Mom! Yes, she does. Don’t you know who she is? Oh, God. Lady, I’m so sorry.”

  “Ivy…” Dez sighed and rubbed her forehead. “Sweetheart, it’s okay.”

  “No. No, it’s not.” She swallowed and eased away from her mom, batting away the hands that tried to hold her. She made her way to the edge of the bed and just sat there, her feet barely touching the floor. She looked so young, so scared.

  Her eyes met Dez’s, held them. “Mom. Joey…this is the woman who found me.” She looked away from Dez to the man—Joey—and then back over her shoulder to her mom. “She saved my life. And I’m sorry if it upsets you, but you know what? She’s right. I’m not going to sleep knowing that freak is out there.”

  “Oh, God.” The woman stood up, lifting a hand to her mouth. “You…”

  Dez hunched her shoulders up, tuning the mom out. She didn’t want this, didn’t need it. She moved forward and when Ivy lifted a hand, she caught it in hers. “Do you know who he is?”

  “No.” Ivy shook her head and tears glimmered in her eyes, so dark and soft.

  Bambi eyes, Dez thought. Absently, she reached up and brushed a strand of hair back from the girl’s face. “Okay. Is it that you can’t remember all of it?”

  “I…I don’t know.” Ivy looked away and sighed. The tears slid free and she reached up, wiped them away. “I don’t think I’m ready to talk about it yet, though. Can I…can I take some time? I’m supposed to come back down here. Talk to the cops in a few days. Can I talk then?”