Finding Love (Behind Blue Lines Book 3)

by Christine Zolendz

  My boots crunched across the icy gravel of my driveway to my front door. I punched the alarm code in on the small keypad and let myself inside.

  Feeling the weight of the day on my shoulders, I undressed in the hallway, forgoing the wine, and just settled on slipping between the sheets of my warm bed. The house was quiet. I breathed in deeply, trying to relax my muscles and my mind. Decompress from work. A clock ticked somewhere, and I sighed, turning to lie on my side. Alone again, facing the empty wall, I pulled at my pillows until I was curled up around them.

  Somewhere outside, a small baby cried, and a sudden stab of blinding grief and crippling disappointment burned through my chest. I clutched the pillows tighter, wetting them with my silent tears as a heavy exhaustion swept me under. My eyes fell closed involuntarily, and I drifted off to the baby’s cries, praying that someone was there to hold the child and ease its fears—hating that it would never be able to be me.

  But that was perfectly okay, because I was very used to being alone.

  Chapter 2

  Dylan

  There was no more coffee, and I'd only had four hours of sleep. Splashing water on my face didn't help, and it was too late to jump in the shower. Another shitty, exhausting double shift. But we needed the money. God, we needed a lot of things, but money was the hardest to come by lately. The more I made, the faster it vanished.

  “We need coffee.” My voice cracked with sleep. I glanced over my shoulder when I heard Sheri walk in. My hands froze around my empty coffee cup.

  “There’s some here someplace. I know I bought it.” She lumbered into the room: thinner, nose running, and flat, lifeless eyes. Her words were full of coldness, clipped and curt. Maybe she was annoyed that I asked for coffee, but she was the one who always wanted to do the shopping. I slowly turned my entire body to face her and placed the mug soundlessly back into the drain board.

  She was wearing a long, baggy, sleeved shirt, a pair of my sweatpants, and a heavy preoccupation behind a very zoned out stare.

  The necklace I’d given her last Christmas was gone from her neck. She didn’t seem worried the day before when I questioned her about it. “Just disappeared,” she told me, shaking her head slowly. Didn’t matter that I saved up for two months to buy it for her—it just vanished like some screwed up magic trick, and she wasn't concerned at all.

  There’d been other things missing around the house, too—small things—but things that could easily be pawned for quick cash.

  I grabbed my wallet off the table—flicked through its empty pockets with shaky hands and squeezed my eyes shut tight. There was a twenty in there last night.

  My backside leaned hard against the sharp edge of the counter as she shuffled past me. I held my breath, swallowed down my words. Everything in me wanted to scream.

  What the hell was I supposed to do? What was going on? The last time she acted like this…

  My stomach cramped and twisted. I couldn't think about the bad times. I just couldn't, I had nothing more in me to give, and I had no time to figure any of this shit out.

  “You okay?” I wanted my voice to be stronger, but it cracked from holding back the accusations.

  “Yeah. Yeah. Everything’s good. I feel good, you know?” She found a bag of gummy bears and stuck a handful in her mouth. “Just tired,” she mumbled through chews.

  My gut rolled. Why was she tired? I was the one who got up when the baby woke up last night, not her. I’m the one who worked a damn double and spent the night with a colicky four-month-old.

  She stood beside me, her forehead drenched in sweat, fingers trembling. I imagined her soul—floating somewhere above us—the girl she used to be, the one with the smile I couldn’t get out of my head. The one who had this whole big, beautiful, promising future planned out with me. Now I’m just haunted by the ghost of her.

  “Your mom stopping by today?”

  Maybe if her mom were here—for a few hours I wouldn’t have to worry—I could believe everything was going to be okay. Her mother was good with both kids. Her mother knew the signs—if there were signs—of anything wrong. Maybe I'm just paranoid.

  “Uh, yeah. Yeah.” There was a sense of sadness to her I never could erase—a giant weight that pressed her down—and it was dragging me to the bottom with her.

  She didn’t look me in the eyes. She stared down at a few colorful candies that sat in the palm of her hands. Why couldn’t she look up at me? My heart thudded hard in my chest and jutted to a stop.

  Behind us, from the living room, a small soft voice called out. "Daddy?" It got my heart beating again, my lips working into a smile.

  Addison stood in the doorway as I turned my head. Sleep wrestled in her eyes, and a yawn stretched her mouth wide.

  “Hey, baby.”

  Somehow, my over-tightened muscles separated from standing guard in front of Sheri, and I knelt on the floor in a happy pile of fatherhood at my daughter’s feet. I pulled her into my arms, breathing in her scent; it offered a small reprieve from the pile of shit I left unsaid between her mother and me.

  “Can I cuddle with you?” she mumbled into the crook of my neck. “In your bed?”

  “Daddy’s gotta get to work, Babycakes.” I leaned back, looking in her sleepy blue eyes, and tucked a loose strand of wild bed hair behind her ear. “I’ll be home late tonight, but I promise I’ll sneak in and kiss you goodnight, okay?”

  “Pwweeeease,” she said, puffing out her lower lip and batting her eyelashes.

  Already learning from her mother. God, I’m going to have my hands full when she got older.

  My back ached as I stood up, and I ruffled Addison’s hair, hoping she didn’t notice me cringe when I moved away. I waited for Sheri to take over, to say something to stop Addison from wrapping herself around my leg to keep me from leaving. But when I looked up, all I saw was the top of her head as she looked down, obsessively peeling the chipped nail polish off her bitten down stubs.

  A small voice deep inside my head whispered suspicion into my ears, Was she okay? Was something wrong? Again? I didn’t have time to ask all I wanted to. God, I didn’t even have the energy anymore.

  “Sheri?”

  She kept picking, picking, picking at the bright red color of the polish. Pieces of it flicked up through the air until they disappeared in the mess of the floor.

  “Sheri?”

  “Yeah,” she answered, tilting her head up and twisting her hands together.

  “A little help?” I pointed to Addison, whose limbs were enveloped around me like a second skin. “I really need to leave for work.”

  “Come on, Addison,” she said, holding out her hand. “Daddy’s got to go to work. You hungry?” She pulled back her hand and scratched at her neck and arms, leaving white scrapes against already pale skin. “I got cookies somewhere.”

  My leg was abandoned immediately. “Cookies for breakfast?” she squealed with delight.

  I couldn’t even disapprove—I had no time—if I didn't leave, then I'd be late, and I couldn't afford the hit in pay. I had three hundred dollars left in my account, and I had thousands of dollars’ worth of bills to pay.

  I kissed Addison quickly on the top of her head, getting a face full of hair. She giggled when I tickled her on her sides and shoved a half-bitten chocolate chip cookie at me.

  "Want some?"

  “No, thank you, sweetie. I gotta run.”

  I gave her another peck on the head, peeked quickly in on the baby – who was in the same position I had left him in – then rushed out the door. I didn’t even say goodbye to Sheri. She was hunched over her phone anyway, hopefully texting her mother to ask for help. Hell, I think I’ll throw her mom a text when I get to work to ask her to stop by—just to make sure.

  I blew through every red light on the drive to work, praying I didn’t get pulled over by a cop.

  When I pulled into the back lot, there was a car on the lift and some old guy yelling at Vinny in another language. I messaged something fast to S
heri’s mother, asking her to stop by the house, make sure everything was okay, as I jogged into the office.

  The time clock caught me five minutes late. “Damn it.”

  “That’ll cost you an hour.”

  I spun around and stepped back. Vinny’s wife was way into my personal space, wiping her hands on a blackened towel.

  “You got to learn to get up on time, grease monkey.”

  I let out a loud breath. “Yeah, the baby was up again all—”

  “I didn’t ask.” She tossed the filthy towel behind a workbench and strutted away. “Straighten up your home life, Dylan, or else.”

  “Shit.”

  I ran my hands over my face and dropped them heavily to my sides. I could really use some damn coffee right now. A dull ache thudded through my temples.

  “What’d you do to her?” Vinny’s voice echoed behind me.

  “Late again. Five minutes,” I said, turning to give him a smile.

  “You look like shit, Dylan.”

  “Thanks. It’s pretty much how I feel.” I nodded my head to the car on the lift. Might as well just get to work. “What do we have?”

  “The whole damn axle is bent,” Vinny said, patting my shoulder. “Hey, by the way, have you tried brandy? Brandy always made my kids sleep.”

  That explains why all three of them were always drunk. “Must have skimmed those parts in all the parenting books I read.”

  “You should talk to Lena. She was the one who took care of the kids when they were young. She’d know what to do.”

  She was docking me one hour's pay because I was five minutes late. Why would I want to ask her advice on anything except for how to be a cold-hearted bitch?

  “Yeah, great idea. So, how about I get started on the axle?”

  “Yeah, I got a carb rebuild in the second bay, too. I might as well start on that,” he said, walking away.

  My phone buzzed in my pocket. Sheri’s mother’s face popped up on my screen with a response of Yeah, I'll pop in. She looked like maybe what Sheri would look like in twenty years. The only difference was Sheri had a pair of blue eyes that made people stop and stare. The bluest eyes I’d ever seen, like that kind of Caribbean water blue you want to fall into. First time I saw them, I was done for.

  I loved her without thinking about it. It's strange when I think about it now. I was just going along, and then I met someone, and she turned everything upside down, and for a while I got swept up in the craziness of it. We partied. Every night. We had sex everywhere. Anywhere. She was dirty and ready for anything, and I tasted it for the first time and was instantly addicted to her. I had money. She came from money. We were like Bonnie and Clyde, full of fire, ready to take on the world. There was nothing that could stop us from being wild.

  But the thing was, I didn't really know her then. At all.

  Chapter 3

  Callie

  Dark red lipstick.

  Smoky eyes.

  Freshly waxed…everything.

  I slipped a tiny black dress over my head, shivering as the silky material slid coolly against my skin. Maybe I should use my vibrator before Ryan’s party? If I didn’t, I was going to end up mauling the first guy who said hello to me in some coat closet between a pair of faux fur jackets that smelled like the little old ladies that owned them. I desperately needed a release, someone to take home and just let loose with. I checked my ass again in the mirror. Perfectly doable.

  I would do me.

  Yeah, I definitely needed to use my—

  The doorbell buzzing ten times in a row cut off my thoughts.

  “Okay, okay! Hold on!” There was absolutely nobody who should be ringing my door like that. My heels clicked against the floor as I rushed for the door—the buzzing continued wildly. I yanked on the knob and slammed the door open. “Hold your horses, Jees—”

  A wide pair of bright blue eyes stared up at me.

  “What the f…fudge?” It was the kid from across the street.

  “I need the 911!” The kid shouted the demand, hands on her hips—and it was a her. Up close, I could see her adorable little girly features—bright eyes, pink lips, a tutu around her waist, and a small doll stroller with a baby doll hanging lopsided inside it.

  I squatted down in front of her, almost tipping over in my heels. “Where're your parents?”

  “Are you a police officer?” she asked, ignoring my question.

  “Yes, I am.” I looked out over her shoulder toward the house I’d always seen her in. Not one light was on inside. “Where are your parents?”

  Next to her, in the tiny plastic stroller, the doll moved.

  Then it started to cry.

  I fell back on my ass, legs sprawled out in front of me, stunned. “That’s not a doll—”

  “No, that’s my baby brwudder.”

  Her baby brother? Her baby brother was strapped clumsily into a tiny plastic toy stroller that had a broken wheel and some sharp piece of plastic jutting out of the side.

  I bolted upright instantly. “Okay, sweetheart. Where is your mom?" I scanned the yard in front of the house. The street, the garden, everything looked empty.

  “That’s what I need the police for. My mom’s lost.”

  Everything in me stilled. My breath whooshed out of my lungs in a loud gasp. “What do you mean she’s lost, honey?” My heart sped up, thundering through my chest.

  “I don’t know where she is, and Ben smells like poop. He pooped so much, it’s coming out of his diaper.” She held her nose gravely.

  The mother had to be in the house somewhere. Maybe she was sick or hurt.

  "Okay, honey. Let's go see what's going on, all right?" I unstrapped the baby from the plaything quickly. The stench of putrid shit hit me like a brick. I batted my eyes, trying to fight the sting in my sinuses. "What the heck does this kid eat?" I tried to make it like it was nothing, I didn't want the child to worry more than she already was, so I kept my voice even and sweet; inside, though, my mind was reeling, I was expecting to find a body somewhere in the house.

  The baby promptly nuzzled into my chest and fell asleep. The little girl took my hand in hers and pulled me down to the curb to cross the street. “When you find her, don’t tell her I crossed by myself.”

  “How old are you, honey?” I asked, stepping off the sidewalk.

  “Four. How old are you?”

  “Thirty-two,” I answered her with a smile. “And what’s your name? Mine is Callie.”

  “I’m Addison.”

  She let out a puff of white, misty breath into the cold night air. Again, she didn't have a jacket on, and she was outside alone. This was a straight up child services call.

  These kids were too precious; please let this be a tired, overworked mom who fell asleep while doing laundry.

  "And what is this little guy's name again?" I nudged my shoulder up, and the baby made a little snore.

  "That's Ben," she said, leading me up to her front walkway toward her door.

  "Hello?" I called out as I knocked. The door swung open on its own. Inside, all the lights were off, setting off a tingling sensation at the base of my neck. "Addison, where's the switch to turn the lights on?"

  “Right here.” Addison’s tone was high with impatience. “Can you help me find her pwease?”

  “Of course,” I said, scanning the room.

  The house was pretty bare. One couch, a few toys scattered over the floor in one corner. A pile of wrinkled clothes covered a family room table. The place wasn’t dirty, but it wasn’t taken care of either.

  In the far corner was an old playpen. The netting on the sides was ripped, and one of the legs bent forward. I hoped it would hold the baby, because there was no way in hell I was walking through this house without my hands ready for something to happen. This could be one messed up scam to hurt an officer. Or a ransom. Or some other crazy-assed crime.

  I laid the baby down softly and spun on my heels. “Addison, I want you to wait here on that couch for me, okay hun
? I’m going to look for your mom.” My firearm was out of my purse immediately.

  She sat down in a huff and crossed her arms over her middle. “But I told you she’s missing! She’s not here!”

  I slid against the far wall and peeked my head in the next room. An empty kitchen. A small dinette set sat in the middle of the room with an empty water bottle on top.

  The rest of the house was just as empty.

  Each room was lifeless, no mother or any other adult or guardian was inside. The house itself looked dead. Not one picture was hanging on the walls. No telephone. No plants. Even in the baby's room—there was just a little ocean-themed mobile over a thinly sheeted crib—no other toys or baby things at all. Maybe they were moving. Maybe they just forgot to take the kids. I closed my firearm back into my purse and strapped it safely around my body.

  “Officer Callie?” The little girl was standing by the opening of the door. “I’m hungry.”

  My hands fisted around the spindles of the crib. This shit didn’t make any sense. Where were these kids’ parents?

  “When was the last time you saw your mother, Addison?”

  She shrugged and clutched at her stomach. “She gave me chocolate chip cookies for breakfast and kissed me.”

  “Do you know what time that was?”

  "I don't know how to know the time it was." She bent forward a little, and a pained expression crossed her features. "I'm hungry."

  “Come on, then, let's see what's here."

  I took her hand and walked her back into the kitchen. She climbed onto one of the kitchen chairs and kicked her feet back and forth as she waited. I tore through the refrigerator, finding a half a loaf of bread and a jar of strawberry jelly.

  Who the hell only keeps strawberry jelly? Where’s the grape?