by Shyla Colt
“Daddy.” His squeal fills me with a joy I’ve been sorely lacking.
“Hey, buddy.” He tackles me around the legs, and I hold back a grunt.
“I missed you. Did you miss me? Are you better?” The rapid-fire questions earn my laugh.
“Of course I missed you, little dude. Daddy is a lot better but still healing, so we have to take it easy.” I pat his back as he pulls back and nods his head seriously. The kid has a level of empathy and understanding that awes and scares me. The world is a cruel place, and he feels more than most. I want to make sure we teach him balance, so he’s not overwhelmed, or hardening his heart to fit in.
I can feel Allie’s eyes boring a hole in my skull. I give her what I know she’s waiting for and turn my attention to her.
“Thank you for bringing him.” My goal is to keep things polite and relaxed. In time, we can be friends. Right now, thing are too raw and skewed for that to happen. We have a son together, so it’s imperative that we get along. I don’t want my son ground to pieces as we rub him raw with the friction that exists between us. I’ve lived that. I refuse to allow my son to experience it.
“Are you sure you’re up to a visit?” she asks, batting her lashes. Her voice is as sweet as sugar, but I know her game.
“Yeah, we’ll be fine.”
Twirling a strand of her dark hair around a slender finger, she pouts. “You know he can be a real handful.”
“Like his old man, right?” I hold out my fist, and Rolly pounds it, making me laugh.
“Right.” Allie is seeking a weak spot to burrow into. She wants to steer this into a more romantic relationship.
“We need to make up for all the guy time we’ve missed out on, don’t we, buddy?”
“Yeah, Mom. It’s guy time. I love you, but I missed Daddy, a whole whole bunch. I want to play with him now, okay?” Rolly says.
I smirk. That’s my boy being a buffer without trying and smoothing his mother’s ruffled feathers. Allie’s isn’t used to not getting her own way. It’s going to be a rude awakening. The thirty-three-year-old daddy’s girl isn’t going to give up without testing me. It’s always been our way. She’s going to find out quickly that this time, I’m for real.
“Of course, baby boy. You and Daddy have a good time. I’ll be back in a couple of hours, okay?”
“Yay.” Rolly hops up and down and then takes off like a jet toward his room as I walk her to the front door. Normally I’d keep him for a few days at a time, but I’m not recouped enough yet. Healing takes a lot more energy than one would think.
We go inside the entryway. “Are you positive the two of you will be okay? I can hang out if you need me to. I don’t mind.”
I bet you don’t.
“No, we’ll be good. I want to make not being around up to him.”
Placing a hand on my cheek, she smiles up at me. “That’s sweet.”
I cover her hand with my own, gently pull it away, and ball it up with a shake of my head. “I was serious in the hospital. Things are going to be different now. We’re not going to continue around in the loop.”
“Okay, Ollie.” The disbelief in her tone grates on my nerves, but it’s my fault. I kept playing the same role and taking the steps expecting things to change. Or maybe not acknowledging that it never would. Convenience is a slippery slope that leads to complacency and settling.
“See you in few.” I can’t help but be relieved when I close the door behind her. I turn on my heels and make my way to Rolly’s room. Sitting on his haunches, he’s building with colorful plastic blocks.
“Can I build, too?” I ask as I move closer and lower myself to the ground.
“Uh huh. I’m making a castle.”
I help him build another tower as I soak in the smell of his strawberry shampoo and innocence. Children are so precious because their world hasn’t been tainted by realities of the world. They don’t worry about paying bills or feel the sting that comes with the mean-spirited ways of others. When I look at children, I’m reminded of the best parts of humanity—the side we forget too often while we’re caught up in the business of surviving life.
“We need a moat, buddy.”
“A moat to surround the castle?” he asks as he peers up at me.
“Yep.” I’m proud he remembered. I begin to build up a circular wall.
“That’s cool, Daddy. We need to make a drawbridge, too.”
“Good thinking. How will we make it?”
“We can make the shape with our blocks, the brown ones. In all my dragon books the castle doors are always brown wood. We can pretend it looks like that.”
“Good observation, buddy. That means you pay attention well.”
The stacking of blocks and conversation with my son place me in a state of Zen. The sound of my doorbell pulls me from the designing.
“I’ll be bright back, little dude. You okay here?”
“Uh huh.” He nods his head, never looking up from the drawbridge he’s oh-so-carefully assembling. I ruffle his head and groan as I get to my feet.
One in the entryway, I peer out the trisected glass arch. Quinn? With her arms around her waist and her frame hunched, she appears subdued—a paler version of the woman I’ve interacted with. I quickly turn the lock and open the door.
“Quinn?”
She looks up at me with red-rimmed, puffy eyes.
“What’s wrong?” I hurriedly ask.
“Can I come in?”
“Yeah, of course.”
I step back inside. She follows me, rubbing her arms like she has a chill despite the eighty-degree weather. I close the door.
“I went to the police station to update the sketches.”
“Yeah,” I say as the guilt hits me. I’ve put off going to the cops for an updated statement.
“He recognized them immediately.”
My stomach drops. “Why?”
“They’re high ranking members in D.A.C.”
“Is that a gang?”
“An upcoming one hell bent on proving they’re the baddest out there as they take over turf, and absorb smaller groups. Detective Kunes has a real hard-on for them. He thinks nabbing them now will take away the momentum they’re rapidly gaining.”
“And what do you think?” I inquire, seeing how shaken she is.
“Me? I don’t know what to think. They had my wallet. Did they ditch it in a garbage can somewhere, or do they know where I live? Have they been watching me?”
“Do you think they are?” I counter.
“I’m always looking over my shoulders these days. Have I seen anything out of the ordinary? Not yet, but I don’t feel safe either.”
“Daddy?”
She turns her head toward the sound.
“Just a second, buddy. I’m sorry, I have my son here.”
“No. I-I shouldn’t have just come over and barged in like that.”
“You didn’t. Look, I can tell it shook you up. I get it. I want to talk to you more about it, but I can’t right now. So why don’t you chill here with us?” I don’t want her out there like this alone.
“I don’t want to interrupt.”
I cherish my time with my son, but everything in me is screaming not to let her leave. “You’re not. Hey, buddy. Daddy’s new friend, Quinn, just stopped by. She’s really cool and knows all about monsters because she makes them.”
“She makes monsters?” He comes bounding out with his hair flying.
“Oh yeah, buddy. I might call her a monster expert. She does makeup for scary movies.”
He curls his fingers up and roars.
“Whoa. That is one excellent roar,” Quinn says, looking impressed.
He laughs. “Quinn, this is Roland. We call him Rolly. Rolly, this is Ms. Quinn. Can she play with us?”
Rolly tilts his head to the side. “I think it’d be okay. We’re building a castle, Ms. Quinn. Do you want to see it?”
“I’d love to.”
“Come on.” He beckons her with
his hand, and I fight down a chuckle. The little dude has some serious swag. I’m going to have my hands full in a couple of years.
Twenty minutes later, we move from building to Finding Nemo and lunch. We set him up with a cup of juice on the couch and retreat to the kitchen with the open plan. I only bought a home because of Rolly, and I wanted an open plan that would allow me to see him at all times. I’m one of three boys. I know how quickly we can get into trouble.
Opening the fridge, I pull out the makings of a sandwich. “You want to fill me in on what’s happening with the cops?”
“They asked me if I’d be there to I.D. them if they brought them in, and potentially testify. I said I needed to think about it.”
“I think that’s a fair answer.”
“I think it’s a cowardly one,” she mumbles.
I frown. “There’s nothing wrong with wanting to protect yourself. Do you have a roommate?”
She shakes her head.
“A woman living along should be careful. You’ve already done more than me. I haven’t even been to the station yet.”
“Because you’re smart.”
“Lazy and distracted,” I amend.
She smiles. “Thanks for letting me talk it out.”
“Anytime, and I meant every word.” I set the cheddar slices, bagged ham, and mayonnaise on the counter before I move to grab the bread.
“I don’t want to let fear win. They’ve taken enough. When do I make a stand? How do I live knowing me turning a blind eye could affect someone else down the line?”
“You can’t think like that. You don’t control what they do. In the end, the villain is the one responsible for his vile acts.”
“You make it sound so simple. Can I do anything to help?”
“You can cut up an apple. I have a slicer on the counter.”
“I’m on it.” She washes her hand in the sink, and we work together to complete his meal as we talk about lighter things. We’re almost done with Nemo when the doorbell rings a second time.
“That’s probably Mommy, buddy,” I say as I pause the movie.
“No. I want to stay here with you, Daddy.”
I kiss his head. “I know, little dude, and once Daddy is better this will get back to normal okay?”
He pouts. “When?”
“A few more weeks. Okay? Hang in there for me, pal.”
He sighs and stands from the couch, dragging his feet as we move to the door. I open the door for Allie.
“Why the long face, kiddo?”
“I wanted to finish Nemo,” he says with a deep sigh.
She rubs the back of his head. “Sorry, buddy, not today. Were you good for your dad?”
“Yes, and we got to hang out with Ms. Quinn who makes monsters for a living. I want to make monsters, Mama.”
“What?” She glances over my shoulder at Quinn who remained on the couch. “Guys day, huh?”
“It was a surprise visit,” I say with a shrug.
“Yeah, I bet,” she snaps.
“So can I?” Rolly asks again.
“Can you what?” Allie asks blankly.
“Make monsters when I grow up?”
She looks at me, lost.
“She’s a makeup artist.”
“Ahhh. Sure you can, baby. I think it’d be neat. Did you feed him?”
I ignore the urge to roll my eyes at her snippy tone. “Yes, he had lunch about an hour ago.”
“Good. Come on, Rolly. We’ll be in touch.”
I kiss his forehead and ruffle his hair. “I had so much fun with you today. We’re going to do it again real soon.”
“A few more weeks, Daddy?”
“That’s right, bud. Then dad will be as right as rain.”
It hurts my heart to see him so glum and defeated as they leave. Rolly is usually a pretty happy kid. He holds his mother’s hand loosely as he drags his feet. Her back is ramrod straight and anger radiates from her like heat from the sun. I’m going to be hearing about Quinn for days. She’s not used to me putting any woman who’s not my mother before her. She needs to get used to it.
I shut the door and return to the couch.
“I’m sorry about that. I didn’t mean to screw things up.”
I laugh. “Oh no, you don’t get to take credit for that. We’ve been on the ring of disaster for a while. Now we’re recovering from the atomic blast. It’s bound to be rocky.”
“Yet you sound happy about it.”
“Eventually the pain will stop. Things will settle, and we’ll be able to find our way. It’s better than living a lie. It’s like driving a vehicle that keeps breaking down, so you patch it up instead of replacing it. It’s a short-term fix, and I’m ready to think long-term.”
I sink down beside her. “Now you want to tell me more about what happened today?”
“I found who the robbers were and choked. If I was freaked out before, I’m terrified now.”
“Has anything off happened?”
“That’s tangible and not in my head? No. Not even a crank phone call.”
I sigh, reminded of my mini meltdown in the grocery store. “I wish I had advice to give, but it’d make me a hypocrite. All we can do is wait and see what happens, and I hate saying it. But it’s true. They’ve probably moved on to some other crime.”
“Are you going to tell them what you know?”
I don’t want to tell her it’s not as much as she does, except for the gunman. His face will be forever etched in my brain. I owe it to myself and everyone that cares about me to try to get the men who damn near put me in a coffin.
“Yeah. I’m going to head in tomorrow. I’m up for it. They took a statement in the hospital, but I was nowhere near as lucid as I could’ve been.” The first couple of days were a blur full of pain, faces I didn’t recognize, and the voices of my loved ones. The meds they had me on were potent.
“You had serious trauma. I think they understood.”
She sounds better. I glance at her. Her muscles are no longer tense, and her eyes have a sparkle to them again.
“How are you feeling?”
“A lot better since I’ve been here. Thank you for letting me hang out. I hope I didn’t ruin your time with your son.”
“Nah, you enhanced it. You have a little fan I think.”
She laughs. “Once you told him I made monsters I think he was sold.”
I nod my head in agreement. “True. So, we finishing Nemo, or what?” I grab the remote.
“I’m always down for a good animated flick.” She flashes me a mischevious smile, and I hit play as I pretend to relax on the couch. She needs the downtime. Her news has my mind racing. This complicates thing. It feeds my paranoia and lends validity to my feelings of being watched and followed. My chest tightens and a slow, creeping fear invades me. I need to get to the station and find out how I can protect myself and my family. I glance at Quinn out of the corner of my eye. Somehow, she’s made her way into my tight circle of people who matter.
I HAVEN’T SEEN THE inside of a police station since I was in my early thirties, and me and my crew got hauled in for disorderly conduct after a brawl broke out at a local watering hole in Australia. That was my wake-up call. At thirty-two, I was no longer a young man, I missed my family, and my best friend was about to have triplets and start up a business I’d invested heavily in. I wanted to go home. So I did. I made that tour my last. I was never going to be a Tony Hawk, but I held my own in the middle ground and saw a lot of the world. It was good while it lasted.
Shoving my hands in my pockets, I make my way to the front desk.
“Can help you, sir?” the tall, blonde officer with blue-gray eye asks.
“Yeah, I’m here to see Detective Kunes.”
“Can I get your name?”
“Sure, Oliver Hemnway.”
“Is the detective expecting you?”
“Um, no. He told me to come by about a case after I got out of the hospital.”
“Okay, I’ll let
him know you’re here. You can take a seat over there.” She gestures toward the chairs lined up against the wall.
Taking a seat in the uncomfortable, black torture devices, I shift my weight in my seat and guess why the people around me are here.
“Mr. Hemnway.”
I look up at the older man with sharp blue eyes and gray hair slowly turning white.
“Detective Kunes.” I rise, and we shake hands.
“I have to say, you look much better than you did the day I last spoke with you.”
“I honestly don’t remember it very well.” I rub the back of my neck.
“I’m not surprised. They had you dosed pretty well. If you want to come back to my office, we can talk.”
“Yeah, of course.”
I follow him back to a row of desks and take a seat.
“Did you remember anything new about that night?”
“I have a very clear description of the man who shot me.”
“I bet you do.” He picks up a pen and a pad. “You talk, and I’ll write.”
After taking a deep breath, I describe the man I see in too many faces these days. When I’m done, it’s like a purge. I lean back against the seat as if I’ve eaten a full course meal at a fancy restaurant.
“Do you think you could recognize him if I showed you a photo?”
“I’m one-hundred percent sure I could.”
He pulls a binder from his drawer, sets it down, and rustles through a few pages before he turns the book to face me. Humming sounds in my ears and the world recedes. My vision narrows to the man with the snarl. My stomach roils and a ghost pain flares in my chest.
“That’s him,” I rasp, and swallow to moisten my dry mouth.
“Could you pick him out in a lineup?”
“Shit yes, I could.”
“I have to tell you, Mr. Hemnway, this man is no average criminal. He’s the leader of the D.A.C. Are you willing to stand up against him if we take this to trial?”
“Yes.” The answer is out before I can think about it. I have to do this for me. If I punk out, I’ll never be able to look at myself in the mirror again.