[Piper Anderson 01.0] Three Seconds to Rush

by Danielle Stewart

  “How did you get the number in the first place?” Tara asked, whispering as some random girls in far too little clothes sauntered by.

  “I work off the barter system,” Willow admitted with a smirk. “Everything in this business is about favors and keeping them in balance. You don’t want to owe too many, and you don’t want to call too many in all at once. It’s a currency. I called in a few favors on this one, but I’m hoping they pay off. If the timeline from the dealer we saw in the alley is right, the police were already on their way when he saw you. Considering how much heroin was in your system you would have been administered the Narcan very quickly. This guy, or his phone anyway, made the 911 call, which means he may know what happened. He could be actively involved.”

  “But what will watching him tell us?” Tara asked, pulling her hat a little lower, feeling like too many eyes were on her.

  “When you do work like this you don’t always get concrete answers. Some things are a bust. Some are jackpots. It’s a gamble.”

  “That’s why you do it? It’s exciting sometimes?” Tara asked, taking her focus off the stranger and watching Willow’s profile. She was an intriguing woman, an ebb and flow of strength and insight.

  “I do this because if I don’t I can’t sleep,” she admitted between sips of coffee and zipping her coat up to her chin. “Everyone has a cross to carry, Tara. Mine is old; it’s heavy and covered with names of people whose faces I will never forget. I can’t help them, but I can help others. I have to.”

  “What if this is a dead end?” Tara asked, glancing back at the stranger who twitched and hopped anxiously as he talked to people passing by.

  “Then we can try something else,” Willow assured her, but her attention was quickly pulled away from the other conversation. “He’s getting a call,” she said, suddenly moving off the wall and crossing the street. “I want to hear this. Stay here.”

  “But,” Tara protested, wanting to help.

  Willow’s head spun toward her and shot the age old not screwing around mother stare that couldn’t be ignored. “Stay,” she ordered again. Tara bit down on her bottom lip as Willow jogged across the street and pretended to be waving at someone behind Dante. It was probably no more than two minutes but standing there alone felt like it stretched over an hour.

  When Willow finally came back across the street, puffing out clouds of warm breath, she launched right into the details. “He’s meeting someone at the hospital in an hour. We need to stay on him. Maybe that’s where he got the needle, just like the guy in the alley said. It was bigger than what you normally see on the street. We need to stay with him.”

  Before Tara could answer, her phone rang and she juggled it awkwardly out of her pocket. “Hey Reid, we’ve got big news. An actual lead.”

  “You need to come to the office,” Reid ordered, ignoring the jubilance in her voice. “Have Willow drop you there. I need to talk to you.”

  “We can’t,” Tara explained with a breathy laugh. “Didn’t you hear me? Willow is a genius. She actually tracked down the guy who called for help that night, and he has a meeting with someone at the hospital in an hour. There might be a link to the needle.”

  “No,” Reid asserted coldly. For a moment she didn’t answer, assuming he was talking to someone else, since his reply didn’t make any sense. “Come to the office.”

  “Is everything all right? Did you see Wylie this morning?” Tara asked, turning to Willow for some kind of direction. “He says we need to go back to his office right now,” she mouthed.

  “No,” Willow said, gesturing for Tara to hand the phone over. “Listen Reid, this is something I need to chase down. It’s a legitimate lead.”

  Tara’s eyes danced across Willow’s face, dying to know what Reid was saying now. Of course he wouldn’t want them to give up on it now.

  “I’ll put her in a cab,” Willow said solemnly, not looking over at Tara now. “She’ll be there in thirty minutes. But Reid—” She pulled the phone from her ear and stared at the screen. The line had been disconnected. “You’ve got to go see Reid. I’ll handle this.”

  “Why? What is this about?” Tara asked, a wash of nausea rolling over her body. The expression on Willow’s face was hauntingly ominous.

  “I’ll handle this. You need to go talk to Reid. He’s in a fit about something, and you need to work it out. I can’t keep up with you two. One minute you’re on the same page the next you’re fighting again. Grab a cab, and I’ll check in with you after.”

  Willow was already heading toward her car before Tara could beg for more details. Last night with Reid had been rejuvenating. His support had emboldened her to believe she could get through this. The thought of him in the same room as Wylie, making sure he was all right, was everything. Knowing he was pissed off about something had her throat seizing up. Apparently vowing to support her was a fickle promise.

  Chapter 25

  Reid saw her get out of the cab and fumble some cash to the driver. He’d been staring out his office window since Willow hung up, even though he knew Tara was a minimum of thirty minutes out. He wanted to see her before she saw him, to get eyes on her and try to remember what was right and what was wrong. From far away, down below him where she looked small and unfamiliar, he could remind himself of everything the Oldens had told him. From up here he could hold tight to his judgment that this had gone on long enough.

  When she walked into his office, winded and her hair static and unruly from the hat she’d just yanked off, he chanted to himself to remember. “You scared the hell out of me, Reid. Is everything all right with Wylie?”

  “Right now?” he asked, so much condescension in his voice that he saw it wound her. “Yes, he seems fine. Happy really. But the Oldens were not pleased to see me.”

  “I’m sorry,” she nodded, as if she knew what this was about now. “They have very strong personalities, and you can’t convince them of anything. Trust me I’ve tried. I’m sorry you had to deal with them today, but I do appreciate you trying. I should have warned you.”

  Reid wouldn’t sit. Sitting was too weak, too friendly, for this moment. Instead he folded his arms over his chest and stared at her as she sank into a chair. “I think you need to consider what’s best for Wylie now.”

  “You say that as though I’d be starting something new. All I do is think about what’s best for him. I’m what’s best.” She wrinkled her nose and scrutinized him. “What exactly are you saying?”

  “The Oldens have a solid case against you. With the best lawyer, I still think you’d be unlikely to retain your parental rights if you try to fight them.”

  “Are you telling me to give them Wylie? He’s not an old sweater I don’t wear anymore; he’s my son. If they want to take him from me, you better believe I’m going to fight them. How solid could their case be? Your friend Kay said that as his biological parent there is precedence that the court will be in my favor.”

  “He burned himself on the stove? With that kid you call a babysitter? They know everything, Tara. They’ve dug about as deep as you can. You didn’t even take him to the hospital?” The look on his face was rooted in betrayal. Tara had looked him dead in the eye and promised that Wylie was safe and happy with her. But now he had so many reasons to doubt that. He held some responsibility in taking what she said at face value.

  “The woman upstairs treated the burn, and it was fine. It healed. Do you know what emergency rooms by us look like? It’s not some cheery place with lots of friendly people. It’s gunshot wounds and crackheads. Wylie was all right.”

  “The woman upstairs is a dental assistant, not a nurse, not a doctor. And trust me, that’s not what they are building their case on. There was a stack, Tara.” He gestured with his hands to show how high the papers mounted back at the Oldens’. Perhaps he exaggerated by an inch or two, but what did it really matter now? It all added up to the same thing.

  “Of course they would,” Tara scoffed, and it enraged him more. “Didn’t you t
hink they would twist everything? Haven’t you been doing this job long enough to realize people will stop at nothing to get their way? Last night you said you were with me on this. That didn’t last very long. The first time someone gives you a reason, you bail on me.” She shot up from the chair and shook her head disappointedly at him.

  “Tara, there has to be something there for them to twist. They aren’t making this stuff up. Your pediatrician isn’t going to go on record in a courtroom and lie. The pictures they have of your apartment don’t lie.”

  “Why do they have pictures of my apartment?” she asked, gesturing wildly with her hands. “They can’t do that.”

  “You shouldn’t be worried about how they did it, you should be worried about how they intend to use what they have. You have roaches. Dirty laundry piled high. Complaints about the smell. Social services will be in there, you know that, right? They’ll evaluate your house and these photos will be used in court.” With a sudden sense of losing the battle but hoping to win the war, he settled his voice from a roar to a near whisper. “This is why I’m telling you it’s time to think about what’s best for Wylie. You have options. We’re working on the federal charges; we’re facing those head-on. But the custody hearing, I think we need to evaluate all your options. You need to have an open mind.”

  “No,” she said flatly, her voice settled now too. “I will not bend to them. I will not let their perverted version of the truth dictate my life. They can’t steal my child away.”

  “He deserves a good life,” Reid said, giving not enough thought to the impact of his words. Like a spear to her heart, Tara stumbled back. Slapping a hand to her chest she stared at him precisely like someone who’d been mortally wounded.

  “You’re fired,” Tara edged out through sporadic breaths.

  “What?” he asked, the bitter taste of his angry words still on his tongue.

  “You’re fired,” she repeated, more steadily now.

  “Tara, you can’t afford another lawyer. You need me.” He was smirking, though he didn’t mean to be. It was just a natural reaction to the absurd stance she was taking.

  “Reid, I don’t want you to represent me anymore. I don’t want your help at all. This is done now.” She pursed her lips and took a few steps toward the door.

  “You know what your problem is?” Reid blurted out, knowing it would stop her. And just like it had when they were young, a challenge like that in his voice had her spinning around.

  “Let’s hear it,” she challenged.

  “Pride. Everything you do, or the things you won’t do, is all your stupid pride getting in your way. You’d rather go down alone than actually let go of your pride enough to have a better life . . . and to give Wylie one.”

  “Fine,” she said, tossing her hands up in mock defeat. “I’m too prideful for my own good. I’m delusional enough to believe I should raise my son who I love more than life. You’ve pegged me right.”

  “If you love him—” Reid, annoyed by her sarcasm, slammed a hand to his desk but she was bolting toward him before he could finish his sentence.

  “Don’t you dare, Reid. Don’t you say another word, because I am full of pride, and I hold a grudge. If you finish that sentence, I’ll never forgive you. Ever.” She turned abruptly and headed out the door, slamming it behind her.

  A framed picture of meaningless art bounced off its nail and hit the floor. The glass shattered in shards across the carpet.

  “Fired?” he whispered to himself in disbelief. He’d never been fired from anything before in his life, let alone a job he wasn’t getting paid to do. Tara would have to be out of her mind to walk away from his help now. She’d end up in prison, losing Wylie for good, all to prove he was wrong. That was either complete insanity or absolute conviction. Either way she lost.

  Chapter 26

  Her apartment was garbage. Tara could see everything wrong with it. She could feel the cold wind blow right through the rattling windows every night. But what no one could see were the tickle fights and the soothing songs. When Wylie wet the bed, she never got angry, even if she was exhausted. Even if she’d just brought the sheet back from the long trek to the laundromat. It wasn’t his fault. He was just a little boy.

  With a frenzy of pulsing anger moving through her body, she began to clean. No, that was not a strong enough word for what she intended to do. She would purge.

  Not that it would matter for long anyway. She’d already been informed by all of her employers that she was fired. The first one to let her go was the newspaper delivery. The morning following her arrest she didn’t show up, and they had a strict no call/no show termination policy. One strike. The deli had been more forgiving, but with all she was trying to do to build her case and fix this unthinkable mess, it was impossible to make all her shifts. They at least sounded regretful when they let her go. The school where she taught piano lessons had been notified about her arrest. They were kind, but firm. She was not to return to school.

  Money would run out before the next rent check was due. This place, the one she’d fought to pay for, attempted to keep clean, tried and failed to keep perfect, would not be hers for much longer. Reality, the relentless monster that kept beating her, couldn’t be avoided. Even if she won the charges against her, even if she could win against the Oldens in the custody case, she’d have lost the life she’d built. And starting over seemed impossible.

  The night she was found in the alley was the off-the-charts earthquake. It sparked the tsunami, and right now she was in that place where all the water was being pulled in, drawn to the sea. The eerie, endless empty shore it left was lonely, and she knew at some point the wall of a wave would come crashing down on her.

  So she scrubbed, she poured bleach, and she stuffed garbage bags because it was the only thing that felt like a release right now. Her hands stung, her eyes watered, and still the apartment was shit.

  She had no idea how long the person knocking on her door had been there. Tara had been grinding her teeth too loudly to hear the tiny rapping noise.

  “Tara?” Willow’s voice called softly. “Tara, are you in there?”

  She wanted to yell no. Even though that wouldn’t make much sense. The only thing she wanted more than solitude was to know if Willow had any new information. “Yeah,” she finally answered, rinsing the chemicals off her hands and jogging toward the door.

  “I’m sorry to come over like this,” Willow apologized as she looked around the apartment like a mother who’d come home early, startling her teenager.

  “Did you get anything at the hospital? Did he lead you to anything?”

  “No,” Willow said, her face falling with disappointment. “I tailed him, but he climbed in a bay door for delivery trucks and I lost him there.”

  “Oh,” Tara said, letting her distress show. “I fired Reid today so since he’s the one paying you there isn’t much more you’ll be able to do for me. I appreciate the help but I think this is it.”

  “I talked to Reid,” Willow announced as she moved farther into the apartment and closed the door behind her, signaling she wasn’t in a rush to leave. “I’m sorry you guys are arguing. This is a really stressful situation.” She fidgeted with the leather bracelets on her wrist as she tried to get Tara to warm up to the idea of talking this out.

  “I don’t have anything to say about it,” Tara shrugged, grabbing her cleaning supplies and aggressively wiping the crayon marks off the wobbly coffee table.

  “Leave some paint on there,” Willow joked but she was alone in her small chuckle. “I came over today to let you know that I’m not giving up yet. I hope you don’t either.”

  “You must not have really talked to Reid, because if you had you’d be here trying to convince me my child is better off with the Oldens. They have money and can shower him with everything he’ll ever want.”

  “How’d that work out for their son?” Willow asked so casually that Tara almost missed how profound of a question it was.

 
“Exactly,” Tara agreed. “I know that they are Wylie’s grandparents, but TJ wasn’t always a drug addict, and when he had a clear head, he told me again and again they shouldn’t be in Wylie’s life. Now they are going to have him forever, and I’m sick over it.” She slapped the rag onto the table and moved on, gathering up all the little throw rugs that covered the stains on the hardwood floor. She hugged them all in her arms and reluctantly listened as Willow continued.

  “Reid has never really worked in family services of any kind. He doesn’t have kids in his life. There are parts of this he can’t understand. And I’m sure, like many custody cases, they are exaggerating or just plain inventing some things.”

  “Isn’t it black and white? I let Wylie get burned on the stove when he was here with the sitter. I ignored his pediatrician who wanted to keep cramming antibiotics into him even though all they did was upset his stomach and not help his ear infections at all. I put off his surgery clearly because I don’t care about him, not because I did my own research and felt like it might not be the solution for him. It smells like pee in here all the time. The stack of papers with all my neglect was this high,” she said making a sarcastic gesture the way Reid had.

  “My son fell off the bed when he was nine months old,” Willow admitted as she grabbed the rag Tara had been using and started wiping down the baseboards. “Two and a half years later, my other son did the same thing. Around the same age. They were both fine, better than I was when it happened. I’ve made plenty of mistakes and sadly I’ve made some of them twice. My son wets the bed more nights than he doesn’t and the smell of urine is always threatening to take over my house. I swear they all go to the bathroom with their eyes closed. They never hit the toilet.”