by Jo Chambliss
The instant I step off the elevator, Thomas zeroes in on the cup carrier I’m holding. Not once does the young deputy look up to my face during my walk to Willa’s door. Only after I’ve handed him his coffee does his focus move to something else. Then I laugh when he cranes his neck toward the bag of food. With a chuckle, I inform him, “I’ve got plenty for you. Just let Ari pick first.”
With a knock, I open the door. “Anyone undressed?”
“No. Come in.” I hear Willa say. No sooner than I clear the opening, Ari comes barreling toward me, wrapping her arms around my legs. “Whoa, Tadpole. What’s this about?”
“You took a long time,” she sobs into my thigh.
“It was a long walk, and I was carrying a lot of food.”
She doesn’t calm down or let go, and now I’m in danger of dropping everything I’m holding. With Ari wrapped around me, I awkwardly shuffle toward the counter and put the food down. Now that my hands are free, I peel the child off my middle and look her in the eye. “Hey, didn’t I promise that I would come back?”
“Yes, but…”
“No buts. When you make a promise, you keep it, right?”
“Uh huh.”
“That’s it then. Now, it’s time for breakfast. You tell me which of these you want, and Thomas and I will eat the rest.” Ari takes a seat in the only chair in the room, and I start pulling go-plates out of the bag. Gesturing to the plates, I ask Willa. “Are you allowed to eat anything?”
Her stunned look from moments ago has been replaced with a perplexed one. She shakes it off and answers, “I don’t know. The nurse…”
Someone knocks at the door and enters without waiting on an invitation. I automatically reach for my gun but hold when I see it’s the nurse followed by a woman carrying a tray.
The attendant puts the tray of food on the weird hospital lap-table and turns to leave. The nurse checks Willa’s vitals and also slips out. I roll my eyes when neither one of them bothers to roll the table to Willa.
Moving to do the job myself, I roll it into position and remove the cover from the plate. Willa and I stare at the pathetic representation of breakfast and coffee and then at each other.
No way is she eating that shit. Willa stares at me in disbelief as I pick up the mug of sad-looking swill posing as coffee, pour it down the drain of the room sink, rinse out the cup, and pour in half of my coffee. Her mouth gapes open as I put the cover back on the plate and remove the tray. Having some room to operate now, I place the four go-plates on her table. “You pick first.”
Instead of answering, she just stares at me for a long moment. Finally, she meekly asks, “Why are you doing this?”
Her question stops me cold. Why am I doing this? “I… well… Ari…” Hell. I scrub my hand over my two-day stubble. “Honestly, I’m not sure. I don’t seem to have any explanation other than in my line of work, just because you rescue someone doesn’t mean that your involvement is over. I guess I can’t leave until I know you both are safe and secure.”
“Your line of work… as a Navy SEAL?”
If her expression is any indication, my face is not a happy one. “How did you know that?”
“Ari told me. Is it bad that she knows?”
Shit. You’re scaring her.
Ari pipes up then. “I wouldn’t go to sleep, and Michele promised me you’d find my mama. She said that you were a sea lion and that you would find her even if nobody else could.”
Needing to diffuse Willa’s fear of my sudden change in temperament, I kneel in front of Ari. “Michele was right. Because I am a sea lion, I wouldn’t have given up until I found your mama. You know why?”
“Why?”
“Because you are the bravest little girl I’ve ever known. If you could be that brave, I knew I had to do whatever it took to bring your mama back.” Ari’s face transforms until she’s beaming at me, and then she looks to her mama.
Not finished, I call her attention back to me. There’s still more I need to make clear. “But I need to tell you something about my job. You know what a secret is, right?”
She nods in an exaggerated way. “Uh huh.”
“I have to keep my job a secret. If everybody knows what I do, my job becomes dangerous. Can you help me keep this a secret?”
Her eyes widen, and she nods again, eagerly this time.
“Good. I want to show you something, and then we can’t talk about this anymore unless nobody else is around. Got it?”
“Got it.”
I reach in my shirt and pull out my dog tags, placing them in her hand. “Wow,” she whispers in wonder.
“A secret, remember?”
“Ok,” she answers. Then I look back to Willa. She has a strange look on her face, but at least she no longer looks nervous. I lift my brows in question, seeking the same compliance from her, and she nods.
“Now that we understand each other, it’s time to eat.” Tucking the chain back in my shirt, I gesture to Willa to pick out one of the breakfast plates I brought back. She picks one without even looking in it. Ari opens lids to inspect her options and stops when she gets to pancakes. Of the remaining two, I grab one that’s loaded down with eggs and sausage and pass the last one out to a very appreciative Thomas.
All but Ari eat in silence. She hums and talks to herself constantly, but surprisingly it doesn’t grate on my nerves. While I’m eating, I spend my time covertly watching Willa, but she’s retreated inside her head, leaving me with no idea about what she’s thinking.
A short time later, I’m gathering the trash when there’s another knock at the door. The visitor doesn’t automatically enter, so I figure it isn’t hospital staff. I open the door and find Mike standing there, holding his cowboy hat in his hand.
He doesn’t look like he’s had any sleep, but he’s alert and very pissed off at something like this happening in his county. With dark circles under his sharp eyes, he somberly walks into the room.
I guess it’s time to get back to work.
Chapter 5
Willa
I’m having a little trouble wrapping my head around all I’ve seen and heard during the one hour that I’ve been awake. First and foremost on my mind is the miracle that Ari and I are even still alive after being taken and tortured by that monster.
With every slice of that knife, I was certain that I was trading my life for my daughter’s. I never expected to see her again. Needless to say, I was surprised to be waking up at all, much less safe in a hospital bed.
I fully expected to and was ready to die to save Ari. It seems that’s exactly what would have happened if not for this man kneeling on the floor in front of my daughter. I don’t know what brought him down that dark road so late at night, but I’ll forever be grateful that someone was there.
Not just someone. Something inside me is telling me that if it had been anyone else, if a normal civilian had been the one to see Ari in that road, three people would have died last night. No, it had to be this man. I know it in my heart; he was our only chance.
It’s not just because of his training, though I’m sure it played a big part. Many a soldier or sailor would know what to do to get out of a dangerous situation. I do wonder how many would have been able to do it with a traumatized four-year-old in tow.
There’s just something about this man that’s strikingly different than other men I know. He hasn’t acted at all like Ari is a nuisance or a burden. In fact, the way he’s speaking to Ari as he’s kneeling there is as though she’s his peer. He’s treating her with respect while trying to make her understand something important.
And the way she responds to him with such admiration and trust… It’s as if they’re life-long teammates, and I’m the outsider. I find that I’m a little jealous of their sudden and strong bond, especially considering that I don’t even know the man. All I know about him is that his name is Chris, his nickname is Fish, and that he’d prefer people not know what he does for a living. Ari seems to know all the important things,
the intangibles that Chris possesses.
On the one hand, the thought of Ari getting attached to this stranger is understandably scary. On the other hand, by Ari’s account, the sheriff and deputies know and trust him, and he’s a real American hero.
As I carefully watch their exchange, I’m able to learn a little more about Chris. Things that Ari wouldn’t have been able to explain or even discern about him. Instead of talking down to Ari as most adults would, he gets down on one knee to her eye-level. He’s not pandering to her but explaining things in a way she’ll understand without leaving any room for debate. It doesn’t escape my notice that he refuses to correct her when she calls him a sea lion. That, perhaps, is the most impressive part of the exchange.
Seeing them together makes me reminisce about the past and not in a good way. Ari was a toddler when her father and I divorced, and she hasn’t seen her father since we moved out. Even when we were married, not once did Jonathan ever give Ari all his focus. Actually, after she was born, he didn’t seem to give a damn about either of us unless we were in public.
Jonathan… Oh, god. Should I call him? Suddenly, every bit of the relief that I was feeling dries up at the thought of having to involve my ex-husband. I’m not afraid of him, but I dread the exchange. I guess I’m obligated to tell him what happened since Ari was involved. Maybe just not right away.
Drawing me away from my thoughts, Chris gets my attention and prods me to eat some breakfast. Then I watch as this man trades the awful-looking hospital food and coffee for a parade of plates and half of his own coffee from the cafeteria.
At Chris’s urging, I select one of the plates of food and silently pick at it while he distributes the rest.
Sardonically, I keep thinking that breakfast is what started this whole mess. Because I forgot to pick up pop-tarts, we had to make that late trip to the store. If we hadn’t, I’d be in my bed right now while Ari watched cartoons.
There were about a million things that I could have done differently, and maybe the course of the evening wouldn’t have taken such a turn. Just as easily, Chris could have been a few minutes earlier or later, and I wouldn’t be alive to berate myself right now.
And what about Chris? Of course, I’m eternally grateful that he saved Ari and me, but why is he still here? As odd as it is to have him here, I’m wondering why it is that I haven’t dismissed him yet.
Deep down, I guess that I just don’t want to. Maybe it’s because his presence is comforting to Ari. Though really, I think it’s just me. Having him here makes me feel better. I can’t believe this, but after just an hour, I’m convinced that I can trust this man. I must be crazy.
Later, while Chris is collecting the breakfast trash, he makes a dissatisfied face at my barely touched meal but doesn’t say anything Ss he’s throwing away the containers, there’s a knock at the door.
Chris reaches a hand to his hip as he approaches the door to see who’s there. I hadn’t noticed before, but there’s a slight bulge under his shirt on that side. The thought gives me chills. Not because he’s armed, but because he felt the need to be.
I don’t know why he would, Willa; it’s not like there’s a monster on the loose or anything. I roll my eyes at myself as he reaches the door.
Chris demands that the visitor identify themself and must hear a familiar voice respond as he relaxes and opens the door. When Chris steps aside, a tall man in jeans and a black button-down steps in holding a cowboy hat in one hand and a bag in the other. There are a gun and badge strapped to his belt, and the sheriff’s office logo emblazoned on the pocket of his shirt.
As he steps forward into the room, Ari bounces up to him. “Hi, Sheriff Mike.”
“Well, hello there, Sprite.” He holds out his hand, and she gives him a high-five. Bending down to address her in a similar, serious tone as Chris used, he asks her, “Did you take care of Fish for me like I asked?”
Ari beams up at him. “I did. His stitches didn’t bleed at all, and I even shared my new fish blanket with him.”
“Good job, little deputy. Now, you go have a seat while I go talk to your mom, ok?”
“Ok.”
With Ari seated, the sheriff takes a step in my direction and opens the bag he’s carrying. Making sure Ari can’t see what he’s holding, he shows me a tablet and headphones. He motions to Ari and lifts his brows in question.
I nod my permission to him, and he turns back to Ari.
It takes a couple of minutes, but he sets things up so Ari can pick out a movie and watch it while we talk. Once she’s settled, he approaches the bed. “I figured you wouldn’t want her to leave the room, so I came prepared.”
Smart man. If he’s always this considerate, I bet he’s a great sheriff. “Thank you,” I answer sincerely.
He only nods and gets down to business. “I guess you know by now that I’m Mike Hudson, Sheriff of Greene County. First off, I’ve got to say that your daughter is one tough, brave kid. If not for her crossing fifteen-hundred feet of forest to find the road in the dead of night, we’d probably be planning two funerals… if we ever found you at all.”
Yes, I had been thinking the same thing, but to hear those words coming so bluntly from the sheriff makes me shudder. As proud as I am of Ari for being brave, I also have to recognize the other half of our rescue. “From what I hear, we have a little luck and Chris to thank as well. If he had been down that road a minute sooner, he never would have seen her.”
Sheriff Hudson looks over to Chris and smiles. “Let’s just say that a lot of stars had to align exactly right in order for us to be here. Now, there’s a whole lot to talk about, and if you feel up to it, I’d like to talk some now. The sooner we get after this bastard, the better the chance we have of catching him. Do you think you could at least give me some basic information right now?”
Sitting up a little straighter, I let him know just how ready I am to do this. “Sheriff, he shot at my daughter. If I have to, I’ll get out there and look for him myself.”
The sheriff grins and looks over to Chris again, who also has a smirk on his face. “All right then.” Sheriff Hudson reaches into his bag and pulls out my purse. “The first thing I want to know is how you’re doing. You were unconscious and in pretty bad shape when we found you this morning.”
I lift my arms and survey the damage. “It’s not too bad. Most of the stinging has subsided. I just feel a little weak.”
“That’s understandable since you lost a lot of blood. Has a doctor been by to see you?”
“No. Not yet.”
From where he’s leaning against the wall, Chris says, “I informed the nurse not an hour ago that she had woken up. I’m sure someone will be in here soon.”
The sheriff nods and turns back to me. “Ok. Can you tell me a little about yourself? Start with your name, where you work, where you’re from… you get the picture.”
“My name is Willa Castle. I’m twenty-eight. I’m originally from Richmond but moved to Lydia after my divorce two years ago. I used to be a photographer for WaPo, but now I do freelance work.”
He holds out his hand, and I accept his handshake. “Nice to meet you, Ms. Castle. I’ve lived here my whole life and been sheriff for the last nine years. Since this is our first time meeting, I guess it goes to show that the world’s not that small after all. My wife, Michele, is the elementary school principal.”
“Ari mentioned her. Thanks for taking care of her for me.”
“Michele was happy to do it.” Gesturing to Chris, he says, “Since I’m sure all this ugly bastard’s done is bark out orders, I’ll introduce him. He’s Lieutenant Christopher Hill of the United States Navy, which should explain his salty demeanor. Chris and I have been friends since we were about Ari’s age.”
I risk a glance at Chris and see that he’s standing there with his arms crossed, looking unimpressed. “I knew some of that too. Ari let it slip that he was a Navy sea lion.”
The smile fades from the sheriff’s face, and he looks to C
hris. “I’m sorry, man. I’ll talk to Michele.”
“Don’t worry about it. In this case, knowing about my job is probably the only reason Willa hasn’t kicked me out. I imagine it’s quite odd and maybe a little creepy that a total stranger would hang around to help take care of an injured mom and her scared child.”
I quickly divert my gaze because that’s exactly what I had thought early on. Picking up on my tell, Sheriff Hudson coughs to cover a laugh and then turns serious again. “Ok, Willa, now walk me through your day yesterday.”
I tell them about the commissioned resort photos, picking Ari up, dance class, and the two stops at the store. I get emotional when I tell them the part of seeing the masked man holding a knife to my baby’s throat. Chris hands me a box of tissues, and I take a moment before I can continue.
When I start again, I describe the van ride to the cabin, the man making us change and bagging up our clothes, and finally the sick game of hide and seek where I had to count the slices of his knife on my skin to give Ari time to get as far away as possible.
By this point, the sheriff’s neck has turned red, and he’s white-knuckling the pen he’s holding. Chris swears through clenched teeth. Then leveling a penetrating stare in my direction, he asks in a strained voice, “How many? How many times did that bastard cut you?”
Feeling anger and shame that I couldn’t hold out longer than I did, I stare at my hands. Oddly enough, my hands are one of the few areas that aren’t marred with angry red cuts. Taking a deep breath, I answer defensively on the exhale, “I held out as long as I could. I had to give Ari time to get away. I wanted to hold on longer, but I blacked out after fifty-two.”
Chris
That fucker cut her fifty-two times. Damn. How the hell did she hold on that long? I don’t know anyone else that could, and that includes me. I imagine that only a parent motivated to protect their child could endure such torture. And clearly, Willa believes she didn’t do enough.