Little Girl Lost (Georgiana Germaine Book 1)

by Cheryl Bradshaw

  “Yeah, well, I’ve never excelled at following orders,” Terry said.

  Together, we managed to get Shane outside. The familiar sound of fire trucks whined in the distance—a sound I’d once found annoying was now a tune for which I would always be grateful.

  I looked at Terry and said, “Thank you.”

  He nodded.

  I eased Shane onto the ground and checked for a pulse. It was weak, but it was there. Blood seeped from the side of his head, and I noticed a two-inch gash had taken out a chunk of his hair, leaving him with an exposed skull.

  I leaned down to start CPR, and the ambulance jerked to a stop beside me. Two medics jumped out and told me they’d take it from there. I backed away and stared at the nearly demolished office building in front of me.

  It appeared someone had struck Shane in the side of the head, started the blaze, and left him for dead. But why?

  I pressed a hand to the side of my head. It throbbed like it had been slammed into a brick wall, and I struggled to remain standing. I turned toward Terry and started to speak, but I fumbled my words. He reached out to me, and everything started spinning. Then it went black.

  I opened my eyes and looked around. I was in a hospital room, and Harvey was sitting on a chair next to me. His head was bent back like he’d nodded off. I removed the oxygen mask from my face and whispered, “Hey.”

  He blinked, tipped his head forward, and looked at me.

  “How ya doing, kiddo?” he said.

  “What happened? I remember talking to the doctor when I first arrived. I’m not sure what happened after. Did I fall asleep?”

  “You were out of it when you got here.” Harvey pointed to the IV bag attached to my arm. “Think they gave you something to make you feel better.”

  I turned.

  He was right.

  I’d been medicated without my consent.

  Maybe I should have been thrilled about the happy pill they’d administered, given the hellacious evening I’d just had. But I wasn’t. I didn’t want to numb the pain. In the past, I’d allowed myself to suffer. I preferred to face my reality than escape it. It may have been an unhealthy way to deal with my demons and was just one of many in my arsenal of fetid vices.

  I didn’t care.

  I’d always found people curious creatures, most choosing to flee when the first bit of wallpaper they covered themselves with peeled off long before there was a strip so big it couldn’t be pasted back together again. In their haste to escape, though, they missed the important part, the lesson, the beauty that came after their insides were exposed, revealing the ugly bits, the parts they pretended didn’t exist. It was easier, I supposed.

  I ripped my wallpaper all the way off. I suffered. I found a twisted sense of beauty in it. A beauty those who ran from it would never see.

  I yanked my IV out and tossed it to the side.

  “Aww, Georgiana, come on, now,” Harvey said. “Why’d ya have to go and undo what they did? They’re just trying to help.”

  “I never told anyone it was okay to dope me up,” I said.

  “You’re right,” a male voice said. “I did.”

  Somehow in my present lethargic state, I’d failed to notice Liam leaning against the hospital door, standing in silence with his arms folded. He took one look at my expression and grinned, as if he enjoyed seeing me annoyed.

  “What are you doing here, Liam?” I asked.

  “The hospital called me,” he said. “I’m still listed as your emergency contact.”

  “How can they ... why didn’t you tell them we’re no longer married?”

  He shrugged. “I dunno. I didn’t want to complicate things, I guess.”

  “You have the right to be consulted, not the right to make decisions on my behalf,” I said. “What’s wrong with the people in this place?”

  I grabbed a remote control on the side of my bed and clicked it about a hundred times. Seconds later, the door opened, and Tracy Rhodes came strolling in. She took one look at me and pivoted.

  “Oh, no,” I said. “Don’t you walk away from me. What are you doing here?’”

  “I ... work here.”

  I squinted and took a hard look at the scrubs I somehow failed to notice she was wearing.

  “Since when?” I said. “When I saw you last you were still working at the bar.”

  She moved a hand to her hip. “Yeah, well, things change. I’m a nursing aide now.”

  “Who stuck the IV in me when I fell asleep?”

  “It was ... umm ... I mean, it was one of the other ... I can get her if you want.”

  “I do want. I also want to leave. Find whoever needs to discharge me or I’ll discharge myself.”

  “All right,” she said. “Let me go get someone to talk to you about it.”

  There was nothing to talk about.

  My decision had been made.

  “Let me try this another way,” I said. “I’m leaving. Run along and tell whomever you need to tell.”

  “I mean, you can’t leave without the doctor coming in and dismissing you.”

  “Dismissing me?”

  “You know ... he needs to say it’s okay for you to go.”

  “I think the word you want is discharge, not dismiss. How long have you worked here?”

  “Come on,” Liam said. “Lighten up. It’s not her fault.”

  A flustered Tracy shook her head and threw her hands in the air. “It’s my third day, all right? Give me a break, Georgiana!”

  “Did you want that break before or after we discuss you opening your big mouth and telling my brother things that weren’t your business to tell?”

  Harvey ran a hand across his brow, and his face went red. “I’m not sure what’s happening here, but let’s button it up and save it for another time when I’m not around.”

  Tracy whipped around and stomped out of the room.

  Liam flashed me a disappointed glance and followed her out.

  “I can’t believe he’s chasing her, after what she did,” I said.

  Harvey stood and patted me on the leg. “Well, I see you haven’t lost your grit, honey.”

  I hadn’t lost my grit, but it was possible I’d lost my mind.

  “I’m sorry, Harvey. I shouldn’t have laid into her in front of you. It wasn’t right. I’m not myself right now.”

  “Listen, I get it. You seem like you can take things from here, so I’m going to leave you now, and I’ll see you tomorrow. I’m not telling you what to do or anything, but I’d like it if you stayed here tonight. I can look in on Luka for you. I can even bring him to the house so he’s not alone tonight.”

  “I can’t stay here. You know how I feel about hospitals.”

  “Yeah, I get it. Never met many people who care to spend time in hospitals, though.”

  “I know you’re trying to look out for me, but I need to leave this place.”

  “All right, fine. No more police work tonight. I mean it. You go home and get some rest, and then start fresh in the morning.”

  He winked at me and headed for the door.

  “Hey, Harvey,” I said.

  “Yeah?”

  “You haven’t said anything about Shane. How’s he doing, and what room is he in? I’d like to stop in before I head out.”

  Harvey breathed a heavy sigh.

  “I, uhh .... I meant to tell you before. You know, when he got here, he’d lost a lot of blood. The doctor did what he could, and he thought he’d be able to repair the damage. I’m sorry to say Shane didn’t make it through surgery. Poor kid died about an hour ago.”

  I took Luka for a walk the next morning, made a scrambled-egg burrito to go, and dropped Luka at Aunt Laura’s for the day. I checked in with Harvey, and he said the thumb print Silas had sent over had not been a match to any of the current employees at the network. Once again, we were at a stalemate.

  I pulled in front of the Navarros’ place just before seven. They had a small home. It was stucco and painted
a shade of pink that reminded me of Pepto Bismol. A child’s bike was turned over on the lawn. It was red and had a black-and-white polka-dot basket on the front. The Navarros had no other children, so I assumed the bike had been Everly’s and had been rested there for some time. I sat for a moment and stared at it. I pictured her on the bike, breezing down the road with her friends. I thought about how much her parents had suffered. I had no desire to add to it, or to drive the knife deeper into their souls than it had already been driven.

  On days like today, being a detective wasn’t easy.

  I shelved my emotions and walked to the door. I raised a fist, prepared to knock, and the door swung open. A woman leaned against it and stared at me. She had long, black hair, a slim, narrow face, and wore a loose-fitting, white, spaghetti-strap dress which was several sizes too big. She had crooked teeth, which told me her parents had been too poor to afford braces. I guessed she was in her early forties. She was a tiny speck of a thing, and it looked like she hadn’t eaten anything but salad in some time.

  “Lenore Navarro?” I said.

  She nodded. “Who are you?”

  “Detective Germaine. I’m looking into the murder of Jack Donovan and the disappearance of his daughter Lark.”

  She stepped back, confused. “What are you talking about?”

  “A couple nights ago, Jack was shot in his back yard. He’s dead.”

  She slapped a hand against her mouth. “Doctor Donovan is dead? Wow. I can’t believe it.”

  Her lack of knowledge about the murder seemed odd. It had been two days since the murder and kidnapping had taken place. She should have known what had gone on, which meant she’d either missed her calling as an A-list actress or had been living in isolation. I wouldn’t know which until I probed further.

  “How do you not know about what happened to Jack?” I asked. “It’s all over the news.”

  “We decided to take a break from the news after our daughter died. What we’ve been through is hard enough. I don’t have it in me to listen to the doom and gloom of others. And that’s all the news is nowadays, isn’t it? It’s littered with sob stories, or it’s fake. Why are you here?”

  “I have a few questions about your recent interactions with Jack. Can we talk?”

  “No, we can’t. He got what he wanted. Now leave us alone.”

  “I’m sure he wanted your daughter’s operation to be a success.”

  She shook her head. “You misunderstand me. I’m talking about the settlement we hoped to get in court.”

  “What about it?”

  “The judge threw it out. Said something about the paperwork we signed and us knowing the risks of the procedure. Blah, blah, blah. Bunch of crap if you ask me.”

  “When did this happen?” I asked.

  She thought about it. “Oh, about three days back, I guess.”

  I studied the bike on the lawn.

  For a split second, I allowed my mind to wander.

  What if Everly hadn’t been the last one on the bike?

  What if the Navarros killed Jack and took his daughter because he had taken theirs?

  My imagination had taken off and was set to sprint for the finish line.

  I wanted to storm inside the house.

  I wanted to throw open every door.

  I wanted one of those doors to lead to Lark.

  I closed my eyes and forced myself to remain in the present, to stay in a rational, open-minded state.

  The bike was insignificant at the moment.

  There was nothing to confirm my suspicions.

  Not yet.

  “You can refuse to talk to me now, or you can refuse to talk to me at the police station,” I said. “Your call. Whether it’s today or it’s tomorrow, we will talk.”

  She shot me a fevered glare, like I was made of stone. “How does it feel to be a cold-hearted robot so focused on getting justice you have no sympathy for the pain of others?”

  I’d been called a lot of things, but this particular insult was new.

  “Excuse me?” I said.

  “Do you even care about what we’re going through?” She held a hand up in front of her. “Wait, don’t answer. Of course, you don’t. I’m just another faceless person for you to interrogate.”

  “Do you care about what I’m going through?” I asked.

  She huffed a laugh. “Nothing you could be going through would ever compare to what we’ve just been through. What would you know about suffering?”

  Plenty.

  More than she’d ever know.

  “Jack was my brother-in-law, and Lark is my niece,” I said. “Believe me, I know.”

  Her eyes widened. She stared at me for a time and then dug into her dress pocket, pulled out a lighter and a cigarette, lit up, and said, “Want one?”

  I shook my head. “No thanks.”

  “You know something? I never smoked before my daughter died. Never tried a cigarette my entire life until now. Strange the effect tragedy can have on a person.”

  “It’s not easy,” I said. “I know.”

  “I was standing in line at the gas station, and I saw a box of Ring Pops on the counter. They were Everly’s favorite when she was alive. She used to play dress up and slide one on her ring finger and imagine she was a bride on her wedding day. That day at the gas station, I just stood there, staring at the box. I thought about my daughter and how she’d imagined a wedding day she’d never have. It was too much. I decided to leave before I lost it in front of everyone in the store, and my eyes came to rest on a pack of cigarettes.”

  She took a few more puffs, snuffed it out on the doorjamb, and flicked what was left of the cigarette into the grass.

  “I’m sorry about what happened to your daughter,” I said.

  “Yeah, well, sorry won’t change the way things are now. What I will say is I know nothing about what happened to the doctor. I’m sure it comes as no surprise to hear I’m apathetic toward the news of his death. I’m sorry for his daughter and his family, but we had nothing to do with it.”

  “After your daughter died, Jack received daily emails, each with an attached photo of Everly.”

  Lenore blinked at me like I’d spoken gibberish. “Why would anyone send him photos of our daughter?”

  “The address on the emails was from a Gmail account in your name.”

  “I don’t know what to say,” she said. “I’ve had no correspondence with him since Everly died.”

  “So, you didn’t vandalize his car?”

  “I ... what I meant was, I haven’t seen him in person. My lawyer asked me not to communicate with him at all after the incident with his car, so I didn’t. My lawyer wanted everything to go through him. As far as Doctor Donovan’s car goes, I was angry. It may not have been the mature thing to do, but I don’t regret what I did.”

  “And you didn’t send him any emails?”

  She pulled the door all the way open and waved me inside. “Come with me.”

  I accepted the invitation and followed her into the living room.

  “Look around,” she said. “What do you see?”

  I canvassed the room.

  I saw nothing of note.

  “I’m not sure what you want me to see,” I said.

  “Maybe I should ask the question another way. What don’t you see?”

  I scanned the room again, this time with more scrutiny.

  The furniture was out of date and looked like it had been purchased at a yard sale or second-hand store. The gray-and-white striped wallpaper was dingy and dated. The kitchen faucet had a slow leak. Someone in the house was addicted to People magazine, and no one in the house knew how to put their shoes away. There were photos of people I assumed were family and friends, but none of them included Everly. Aside from the bike in the yard, the inside of the house made it seem like she’d never existed.

  “There are no photos of your daughter in here,” I said.

  “I cry when I see anything that reminds me of her,” she
said. “Except for the day I messed with Doctor Donovan’s car, I haven’t even been out of the house since the funeral.”

  It explained why the bike had not been moved.

  “I want you to know,” she said, “whoever sent those messages to Doctor Donovan, it wasn’t me.”

  “What about your husband? Could he have sent them?”

  “Manuel? No. He’s not too savvy when it comes to using a computer. He doesn’t send emails.”

  When I’d first walked inside, I’d heard voices coming from another part of the house. “Is he here?”

  She nodded. “He’s downstairs watching Spenser Confidential with my brother Franko. I’m telling you, Manuel’s a gentle soul. He didn’t do it. He wouldn’t.”

  “I’d still like to talk to him.”

  She tapped her foot on the ground, unsure of whether she wanted to grant me access or not.

  I waited.

  “Manuel has been depressed since our daughter died,” she said. “Each day he seems a little worse than the day before. It’s hard enough to deal with my own emotions. If he keeps going downhill, I don’t know what I’ll do.”

  “I won’t be long, and I’ll go easy on him. I just have a few questions.”

  There was another lengthy pause, and then she said, “Yeah, I guess it would be all right. Wait here. I’ll go get him.”

  She descended the stairs, and I backed up a couple feet and opened the first door in the hallway next to the kitchen. I poked my head inside and looked around. The room had been Everly’s. A Disney Princess quilt rested atop an unmade bed. There were Barbie dolls scattered along the floor, and an empty potato-chip bag rested on top of a small, student-sized desk. It looked innocent and welcoming, like Everly had stepped out for a moment and would skip back into the room soon to scoop up her dolls and resume playtime. The room was alive, teeming with life, but she wasn’t.

  I heard movement on the stairs, and I closed the door and returned to the spot I’d stood at before.

  Manuel Navarro didn’t make eye contact with me when he entered the room. He shoved his hands into his pockets and stood behind Lenore like she offered a barrier of protection against me. He was a foot shorter than she was and had thick, black, unruly hair. He was dressed in faded jeans and a brown T-shirt with a giant, cartoonish-looking taco on the front. A word bubble attached to the taco’s mouth said, “Let’s Taco About It.”