“Is my brother here?” she asked cautiously.
She didn't want to see Joey at the police station at all. She couldn’t face him after what he had done to her best friend.
She hated him for his inability to behave himself as a teenager. That resentment only intensified after learning he had killed Chloe. It was a completely unforgivable crime and one she would rather not be involved with.
“He’s here in our holding cell. We can't transfer him to the courthouse just yet.”
The Chief studied her carefully. His eyes were steely, and she found them unsettling when he looked across at her.
“Are you going to want to see him while you’re here?”
Jenny held up her hands in defense.
“Oh no. I definitely do not want to see Joey again. We're not that close. I just wanted to know. I just wanted to be sure.”
“Sure of what?”
“That he is locked up. I wanted to be sure that he was secure.”
She wanted to drop the conversation. Just like she had done many years before, she told herself her brother was not her concern, and he hadn't been for a long time.
“It's fine.”
It wasn’t fine.
Sensing that the conversation needed to be changed, the Chief nodded to a sheet of paper on his desk. He scanned over it quickly before handing it to her.
“Chloe Dale's funeral is scheduled for two days from now at the local church. Someone has already gone over her will and designated what goes where. She didn't want any kind of a big show. The station will be sending an arrangement of flowers, of course.”
“Thank you,” Jenny said as she folded the paper and tucked it into the front pocket of her handbag. “That’s very kind of you.”
“As for your brother, I can keep you up to date on when he’ll be transferred.”
“That's really not necessary,” Jenny interrupted.
The last thing she wanted to do was return to talk of her brother.
“I'm sure everything is being done that should be done. I don't need to know anything else about him, to be completely honest with you.”
The Chief raised a dark eyebrow. Jenny was used to it. Many people she had met over the years had difficulty understanding her absolute refusal to hold a conversation about her brother. As far as she was concerned, she was a family of one. She didn’t have a brother.
“Okay. If that's the case, there isn't much more I can tell you, Miss Dale. Your brother's house is yours to live in as you see fit. The child is now in your care. You’re welcome to take her with you now, in fact.”
“Right, the child.”
“Isabelle.”
The Chief suddenly became doubtful of this arrangement.
“You have taken care of a child before, I'm assuming?”
“Never.”
Jenny decided brutal honesty was the best course.
“You're shaking like a leaf,” Chief Cartright said, concerned.
“It's been a tough couple of days,” Jenny answered.
“You can say that again.”
A knock came at the office door, and Jenny turned to see the desk clerk waiting for her.
“Children's Aid brought her in about twenty minutes ago.”
The woman's tone was curt and to the point.
“She's been waiting in one of our interrogation rooms. I gave her a spare pad and a pen, but I think she's just ready to go home.”
The Chief raised himself up slowly from behind the desk.
“If you have any questions or concerns, feel free to call.”
He reached out and gave Jenny a firm handshake.
It's been nice to meet you, Miss Dale. I wish it had been under better circumstances.”
“Of course,” Jenny said as she pulled her purse over her shoulder and headed for the office door. “Thank you for your time.”
The Chief nodded his head briefly before dropping back down behind his cluttered desk.
The clerk led Jenny from the room and down a dark hallway to another closed door. Jenny felt her heart pounding wildly in her chest. She wasn't ready for any of this. If she had her way, she would turn tail and make a run for it. She could make a break for New York and head back to the life she had created for herself before any of this madness. It would be impossible to pick up where she had left off in this town. There was no sign of the life she had lived before her departure.
She didn't know how to start again. Something about her demeanor must have given her away, for the clerk paused a moment before opening the door to the room where Isabelle was waiting.
The woman’s expression suggested that Jenny really ought to pull herself together.
“Are you ready for this?”
Chapter 3
“It won’t do the girl any good to see you looking so nervous,” the clerk warned.
Jenny cut the woman’s judgment short.
“I will be okay, honestly.”
“You better be. There's no one else to care for the child. She’s relying on you to be the strong one here.”
“Believe me, I know that.”
The clerk felt Jenny was way in over her head, but nothing more was said about it as she turned the knob, letting the light from inside the small room flood out into the hall.
The eight-year-old girl that stood before her in faded pink dungarees was almost a complete likeness of her mother. Dainty, blonde curls framed a small, heart-shaped face. The blue eyes that stared innocently up at her were a mirror image of Chloe’s. Jenny felt her breath catch in her chest.
It dawned on Jenny that she had never spent time alone with any child, let alone her niece. Again, she felt guilt churning in her stomach for not having been more of a figure in Isabelle’s life.
After leaving Ombrea, Jenny had never once felt the desire to return. Chloe was the exact opposite. Chloe had always been something of a homebody, and there had been no charming her into leaving the small town she lovingly called home. Unlike Jenny, she never harbored any big ideas about moving to a city. Instead, Chloe had been more than happy to stay settled in Ombrea where everything just made sense.
“How are you doing, honey?”
The clerk was doing her best to put on a friendly face but, the little girl still looked absolutely terrified of her surroundings. The pad and pen she had kindly been given to keep her busy while she waited lay unused on the steel table. A doll in a little, patchwork, red dress was clutched tightly in her grip instead.
“This lady is your aunt,” the clerk said. “She is here to take you home.”
Jenny watched as the miniature version of Chloe lifted her wide, blue eyes to her own once again. She didn't look at all reassured to be going home with this new stranger, no matter what their family connection was.
The clerk glanced back at Jenny.
“I'll have you sign some paperwork at the front desk stating that you accept full custody of your niece here.”
“Right. Okay then.”
Jenny watched as the other woman left the room, wishing their roles were reversed and she could be the outsider in this whole scenario.
The little girl watched her silently, the grip on her doll becoming even tighter the longer they stood. Her little cheeks were flushed, a sign that she was only moments away from tears.
Jenny could sympathize with the child. When she had lost her own parents in a car crash at the tender age of ten, life seemed incredibly unfair. Everything felt dark and desolate without even a trace of a silver lining.
Her tears would come often and usually without warning. She sank into sadness while Joey used his grief to act out. Five days later, at only eight years of age, he was arrested for a petty act of vandalism. He got a stern talking to by the police chief and spent an hour in a jail cell, but it did nothing to scare the rebel out of the boy.
To lose one parent at the hands of the other seemed an especially harsh circumstance. Jenny wasn't aware how much the child knew about what had transpired. She had never
even thought to ask the Chief what the child’s involvement had been.
“I'm your Aunt Jenny, your dad's older sister.”
The words felt unnatural and strange on her tongue.
“You were only little when I moved to New York. You probably don't remember me.”
“No.”
Isabelle’s curls moved as she shook her head.
It was a start.
“I haven't seen you since you were like,” Jenny said dropping her hand down to her knees while the girl watched, “this high. That's quite a long time ago, isn't it?”
Isabelle nodded but said nothing. She passed the doll from one hand to the other for comfort.
“Ah, here we are.”
The clerk returned. Her reappearance had little effect on the mood in the small space.
“You just have to sign in a couple places. We have all the other information we need.”
Jenny stepped up to the table to sign the documents while Isabelle sank into a metal chair and waited, the doll clenched firmly in her lap. Jenny glanced at the child before reading over the paperwork, but her eyes remained downcast, her cheeks once more showing the pink tone that indicated tears were close.
Jenny could only imagine what she must have looked like the day she was told that her parents would not be coming home.
“Ma'am?”
The clerk's voice brought her back to the task at hand, and she quickly regained her composure.
“Right. Sorry.”
Jenny signed the necessary forms and then turned nervously back for the child.
“Come on then, time to go home.”
Jenny drove her silver Neon toward Chloe and Joey's home on the outskirts of town. Isabelle sat silent and wide-eyed in the back seat.
What was she was supposed to say to her. She had never been alone with a child before and had never even once felt the urge to have any of her own. They were hard work, too much to be sure, and she had enough on her plate at the magazine as it was without having to worry about another person’s well-being.
But Isabelle had no one else, Jenny reminded herself. She would just have to figure out what came next.
The small farmhouse was set back from the neighboring properties. Tall trees lined the drive in such a way that the house almost surprised people when they parted to reveal the plot of land.
Chloe had lovingly cared for the Dale property. Flowers of all colors and shapes peppered the garden, making it feel friendly and welcoming. The path to the house, crooked and made of flagstones, showed signs of chalk from Isabelle's recent games. A slightly deflated soccer ball sat out on the lawn as if waiting for the next match to start.
Jenny could clearly see Chloe's love in the old, two-story property. Its slightly wind-battered shutters had been painted in a deep shade of blue, matching perfectly the double-sided front door. Pots of more colorful flowers adorned the wrap-around porch, and even more brightly colored plants brightened the large windowsills of the home.
Isabelle opened her own door and exited the car. Her little legs carried her in such a rush to the porch that Jenny thought she might fall over. She followed behind, letting the child lead the way. Jenny was in no rush to enter her friend's home and be taken in by all the memories.
Tears stung her eyes at the sight of Chloe's distinctive, yellow, rain jacket hung on the peg by the front door. A pair of pink rain boots leaned against the old siding. Isabelle's smaller, yellow pair was propped up haphazardly beside them.
Bright-yellow crime scene tape still hung across the doorway, and Jenny immediately ripped it down. She tossed it into a ball on the porch until she could find the will to face it.
She had the impression from her brief encounter with Chief Cartright that he didn't think this was anything more than a simple, open and shut case. She hadn't felt the need, or the desire for that matter, to argue for anything different. He was the Law Man in town, so she assumed he knew what he was doing.
Isabelle looked up, waiting silently as Jenny dug around in her pocket for the door key the Chief had handed over before they left the station. Although it fit inside the lock, the old door gave her some trouble. It took a small amount of shoving and pushing before it gave in and creaked open under protest.
The hallway beyond was silent and dark.
Jenny expected Isabelle to run in, grateful to be home after a long and, no doubt, unnerving night spent with Children's Aid, but there niece remained still on the porch.
“It's okay. You're home now.”
It was the only thing Jenny could think to say. She considered giving Isabelle a tight hug as a sign of affection, but it still seemed too soon. She didn't dare push their boundaries yet.
“Okay.”
It was only the second word Isabelle had spoken since they'd been introduced. Her little feet in their small sneakers rang out in the hallway as she darted inside. Jenny watched as she disappeared up the stairs.
Jenny lingered on the doorstep. She kept her hand firmly on the frame steadying herself.
This wasn't right. It had been many years sincere last visit to this farm. Chloe had greeted her at the door, a smile as wide as the sun on her face. The baby had been dancing in one of those Jolly Jumpers at the end of the hall. The smell of freshly baked apple pie wafted from somewhere beyond.
And off in the darkness, her brother had stood watching the scene unfold, cautious. He knew he had burned his bridges with her long before, and other than the polite courtesies their close quarters had called for, he was careful to keep his distance. She hadn't minded. He was Chloe's to keep in line now. He was no longer her problem.
The vivid image slipped from her mind as quickly as it had come forth. The dark hallway still lingered ahead of her, no longer full of the noises and smells she remembered.
Turning her back on the silence, Jenny returned to her car for her overnight bag. She would be staying a while.
An hour and a half later, Jenny had moved her belongings into the small, guest room at the top of the stairs.
She didn’t bring much with her. She only packed enough to last her for two weeks, if that, and a dress that would be suitable for the funeral. It hadn't seemed necessary for her to pack up the rest of her belongings just yet. Not when everything was so uncertain. She still had hopes of making it back to her new position at the magazine.
She had closed the door firmly on her brother and Chloe's bedroom when she first brought her bag upstairs. There would come a time when she would have to clean and organize it, but not just yet. It didn't seem fitting to invade that space before the funeral was even over.
Jenny checked in on Isabelle while upstairs. She found the young child curled under a mass of colorful blankets and toys, her back to the door. Recognizing Isabelle’s need for peace, Jenny closed the door behind her and headed quietly back downstairs.
The kitchen was unnaturally silent when she entered, so Jenny set about creating whatever noise she could. She filled the tin kettle with water at the sink and set it carefully on the stove, waiting impatiently in the minutes that followed for it to whistle.
Jenny turned on the small, wireless radio on the windowsill, but didn't bother to change the station. She didn't care what song was playing as long as it brought some noise to the space.
Although it took a large amount of pushing and pulling to get the handle to turn, she opened the back door. She paused with her back to the doorway. She closed her eyes briefly, grateful for the late afternoon sounds of birds and crickets from the grass beyond. She made a mental note to get that door fixed when she had the time.
“What are you doing?”
Jenny turned to find Isabelle standing at the kitchen door. Her blue eyes were red and puffy from crying. This time, instead of her doll, a teddy bear in a red shirt was grasped firmly in her right hand.
“Just making some noise. It is much too quiet in here.”
Isabelle nodded once in agreement. An uneasy silence settled over them both once more.
So far, they weren't doing well at building any kind of connection beyond basic conversation. They were simply two strangers who had no choice but to interact with one another. At least Isabelle was home, and she could feel somewhat comfortable here.
It was the most stable place in the world for her, or at least it had been until just this afternoon. Now, Jenny was a stranger invading her space.
“I'll make you something to eat,” she tried. “You must be starving.”
It seemed like a good idea. Jenny hadn’t had an appetite since rolling back into town, but if there was anything she knew about kids, it was that they had to be fed on a pretty regular basis. What they ate, on the other hand, she wasn't too sure about. She chalked this up as yet another learning experience.
Chloe was a whiz in the kitchen. High school nights had been spent baking brownies or coming up with some tasty treat she had only to read about once in a magazine to recreate.
Her biggest success was Christmas dinner two years ago. It was the only time Jenny had come back in town to celebrate the holidays. A secondary table was brought in from storage to make room for the overwhelming amount of dishes on display. Chloe proudly called it the biggest Christmas dinner imaginable, and she wasn’t far from wrong.
“Do you even know how to cook any food?”
“Yes, of course.”
Jenny made a face as she pushed a wave of her blonde hair back from her face.
“I guess. Some things.”
“What are some things?”
“I'm not a whiz in the kitchen like your mom was, but I can manage.”
Jenny tried a friendly smile but the child stared back, unsure.
“We are going to starve, aren't we?”
“That is very unlikely. We'll just have to make do with what we've got.”
“Can anyone survive on just air and water?”
Obviously, Isabelle had inherited her father's dry sense of humor.
Bad Boy Brother Page 2