Lost In The Darkness (The Lost and Found Series Book 1)

by K. L. Jessop

  “My birthday?” I whisper. Ice travels across the back of my neck from Dad’s admission, and it slowly has me removing my hands from his and standing up from the sofa, needing space from them as my chest becomes tight. I have to swallow down the burn in the back of my throat. My birthday is next week. Our birthday. Mine and Persie’s. The day she died. “You’ll be away for her anniversary.”

  “And not being here for you or for her will be hard on everyone, Pepper.” Mum’s voice cracks and I close my eyes. “It’s unfortunate it’s come at this time.”

  “How long are you going for?” I whisper, wanting this entire conversation to stop.

  “We’ll be out there for a little over a month, sweetheart.”

  Over a month.

  I spin around, in disbelief. “A month?”

  “It’s been a hard decision to make, Pepper but—"

  “When did you find out you were going?”

  “The end of last week.”

  That ice-cold feeling turns to fire, and the tears begin to sting my eyes—tears I’m not going to have any control over because they are coming thick and fast. “And you’re telling me this now?”

  “We didn’t want to upset you?” my mum whispers.

  “So you tell me hours before you leave? Oh no, don’t worry. I’m totally fine about it. I mean my parents are heading across the world to sun themselves in bloody Florida while I’m still here!”

  “Pepper,” Dad warns.

  I hate myself for making this all about me when this is their dream. I’m almost twenty-three, right? I keep telling everyone I am. I’m old enough to wear my big girls’ pants and get over it. Old enough to know that life goes on. Old enough to realise it’s just another birthday. But regardless of all of that, it’s also the day that brings back so many horrible memories of when we got the call about Persie. With their unexpected announcement and the week I’ve had with a guy more unpredictable then the incredible hulk, my emotions get the better of me. Covering my face, I let my body erupt in tears.

  “Baby girl, please don’t cry,” my mum chokes as her arms come around my waist to hold me tight. “I hate the thought of leaving you, too.”

  In my sensitive state, I haven’t registered that this will be affecting them, too. Persie and I are all they’ve ever had, and over the years we’d done everything as a family until we both went to University. Only then had our parents left us behind. Until her accident. Then they put me before anything to make sure I was getting through it. It’s been three years without her, and they shouldn’t have to put their life on hold any more to shelter me. I shouldn’t expect them to.

  Drying my eyes, I take a deep breath and escape from my mum’s hold and murmur an apology. “God, I’m so sorry.”

  “Don’t be silly, darling,” Dad says softly. “It looked like you needed that cry. But you have to know, Pepper, we only never told you because we were worried.”

  “We know you’re not yourself at times, sweetheart, and that’s completely understandable. You don’t have to hide that from us. Persie was a big part of everyone’s lives.”

  “That doesn’t give me the right to be selfish when it comes to your dream. Persie wouldn’t have been, so there’s no excuse for me. It’s just… each birthday seems to get harder without her. I miss her so much.” Fighting back the fresh tears that are threatening, I do my very best to be upbeat about their little holiday. “Anyway. I’ve got Malcolm to hang out with and my new job now. The weeks will fly by.” I smile weakly, trying to convince them that I’m okay when the knife in my stomach slices deeper with the thought of being without them. “I’ll be fine.”

  The look in my dad’s eyes tells me that he knows I’m lying, but for the sake of my mother, who is just as tearful as I am, he lets it go.

  “We will ring you every day.” Mum sniffs. “Twice even. And do that timeface thing.”

  I can’t help but chuckle. “You mean FaceTime. That would be great.”

  “Do you need anything? Money? Do you need me to transfer anything for you to tide you over?”

  “Dad. It’s fine. I’ll let you know if any different.”

  He nods, looking at his watch before I see sadness cloud his eyes.

  “You need to be going, now?” I ask with a soft smile before he stands.

  “You know how it is with traffic. I’m sorry it’s such a short visit, Pepper.”

  “Stop apologising.”

  Mum comes to give me another hug, a tight squeeze that makes me squeal. “Too tight!”

  “You always complained as a child when I would do that.”

  “Because you’re practically squeezing the life out of me.” I laugh, kissing her on the cheek.

  I turn to Dad because Mum is welling up again and I don’t want to cry seeing them off as it will only make them worry more. “Bye, Dad. Sorry for my ugly cry. Have a great time.” I wrap my arms around him tightly. I have the best kind of relationship with my parents, but I’m a true Daddy’s girl.

  “Nonsense. You are beautiful in every way.” He kisses the top of my head. “I love you millions, Pickles.”

  I roll my eyes in amusement at the nickname I’ve grown up with since I discovered a love of pickled peppers. That craving soon stopped when, in my teenage years, I got wasted and threw them back up. Trust me when I say that pickled peppers and red wine do not mix.

  “I love you, too. Now get out of here, the pair of you.”

  “Ring me if you need anything. Promise me.”

  “Yes, Mum I promise.”

  “And make sure you eat properly. Andrew, tell her she must eat.”

  Dad looks at me, a smile tugging his lips. “Your mother said you must eat.”

  “Tell mother I heard every word and not to worry.” I head to the door, feeling that surge of sadness beginning to build inside. They need to go. “Now both of you get going or you will miss your flight.”

  With them both kissing me on the cheek as they go, I close the door behind them and wait a few seconds before the tears burst from my eyes.

  After peeling myself off my hall floor an hour later, I try to focus my attention on watching the television to take my mind off things. But it doesn’t work. I text Malcolm to see what he is doing but he is out on a date. Knowing alcohol isn’t the answer, I put on my boots, grab my big, fluffy, black coat and head out to the London streets to try and clear my head.

  I don’t know how long I’ve been walking, but my hunger tells me that it’s way past dinner time.

  With my hands in my coat pocket, I bustle my way through the busy streets that never sleep, not heading in any particular direction. The night air is crisp and the streetlights prevent me from seeing the stars that I know are shining high above. I’d give anything to lie back and look at a sky full of stars without the beacon of London battering the night.

  “Miss Livewell, what are you doing walking the streets at this time of night?”

  I smile at the sound of Emmet's voice and turn in his direction to find him pulled up at the side of me in his black car, his hazard lights blinking.

  “This time of night? It’s not even nine.”

  “It’s still night-time.” He studies me for a second and I’ve no doubt my eyes are red and puffy from all my crying. “You okay?”

  The deep ache tightens in me once again. “It’s been a shitty day.”

  “Get in.”

  I shake my head and point over my shoulder. “Honestly, Emmet, I’m fine. I’m going to walk for a bit.”

  “Pepper, you’re not going to argue with an officer, are you?”

  “An off-duty officer? Yes.”

  “But still a man of the law and you look like you could do with a friend. Now get in.”

  “Do I have much choice in this?”

  He raises one eyebrow and I chuckle. “Fine.” I roll my eyes and head around the opposite side of the car. “Alright, I’m in. You happy now?”

  He grins, right before cutting to the chase with his question.
“So, this shitty day of yours. Wanna talk about it? I’ve got a feeling I might know who is responsible.”

  Dexter is only part of the reason. With a heavy sigh, I look ahead and reply. “My parents have just headed to Florida for a month. They only told me a few hours ago, and it’s all come as a bit of a shock that’s all because we’ve always done pretty much everything together before and even more so after Persie died. I’m not taking it too well, that’s all.” I don’t want to speak of the fact it’s both my birthday and my sister’s anniversary. I don’t want that look of sympathy in his eyes. I don’t want to be that pitied girl.

  “I’m sorry, Pepper. What you’re going through can’t be easy.”

  “It’s not that I mind. I’m happy for them it’s just…”

  “Hit home that everyone around you isn’t going to be here for a while.”

  I swallow back the fresh tears. “I don’t understand why they didn’t tell me when they found out. Why wait until they were practically boarding to tell me?”

  “Maybe because it was to save the hurt.”

  I turn to look at him this time. “How? They’ve still gone.”

  “But by telling you beforehand may have caused you to stress more. I guess this way, it’s over and done with and has prevented further anxieties about being on your own.”

  I shrug a shoulder. “I guess so. I didn’t think of it like that.”

  “Sometimes you need someone outside of the situation to explain life a little better.”

  Talking of explaining things a little better, there’s still this underlying issue of what the fuck’s wrong with Dexter. He has more mood swings than a woman on her period.

  Cutting through the silence, the words fall from my lips and the second they do, I want the world to swallow me up.

  “Is Dexter an alcoholic?”

  The look on Emmet’s face is both full of surprise and uncertainty about how to answer.

  “I’m sorry, that's none of my business. It’s… he’s often drinking.”

  Looking back out of the front windscreen, he sighs heavily, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. “He’s not an alcoholic. He's bipolar and will fucking kill me if he knows I’ve told you. Or anyone.”

  A mind that’s in a war.

  Dexter’s earlier words come to the forefront of my mind and his erratic behaviour makes so much more sense. That ache in the pit of my stomach from the pain I’d seen behind his eyes pulls at my heart more than it should. There’s more to this, and it’s that that concerns me. “Why doesn’t he want people to know?”

  “Because we don't talk about it. He doesn’t talk about it.”

  “But why? It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

  “Because in his eyes it's not an illness, it’s a punishment.”

  “So, because of that, he chooses to punish those around him as well in the hope that they leave him alone.”

  “Exactly. He’s been through more shit than I’ve ever known. But he’ll never get rid of me. I love him like a brother.” He looks at me, a straight smile on his lips. “He's not a bad guy, Pepper: he’s riddled with demons and it’s unfortunate you started working when he was having a few rough days.”

  “And he gets through them with alcohol.” It’s a statement more than a question, but the look in Emmet’s eyes tell me I’m right. This changes everything, and although I respect his privacy, I also wish I’d known beforehand. I wouldn’t have said he’s got a warped personality.

  “It’s not ideal and something I’ve tried to stop him doing, but I can’t look after him all the time. He’s really not a bad guy, I swear. He’s completely different when he’s in a good phase.”

  “Thank you for telling me. I won’t say anything to him, I promise,” I murmur, right before my stomach roars like a fucking lion.

  “Oh, the Livewell is super hungry by the sound of it?”

  I chuckle. “Talk about killing the mood.”

  “I was going to ask if you had eaten but there’s no need. I’m on my way to grab some pizza and to see Dex. Come join us.”

  Desire hits at the thought of seeing Dexter until our earlier conversation in the gallery reminds me how much of a bad idea this will be. “I don’t think I should. We had words earlier.”

  “Come on. What have you got to lose? Besides, you’ll have me to protect you.”

  My stomach growls again. I really need to eat, but the thought of entering his personal space leaves me feeling a little uneasy. That being said, I’m not going to hold back just because he wants to hide.

  “Fine. But it’s on your head if he kicks off at this idea.”

  Chapter Ten

  Dexter

  I look out over the city of lifeless dreams and let the smoke of my cigar cloud around me in thick white rings. It’s colder tonight. The rain has stayed away for the last few days, but the early autumn chill is starting to filter in and around the buildings that are assembled near my place, seeping into the concrete and slowly taking refuge with the coming winter. I don’t miss that time of year: out on the street with nothing but a blanket that makes no attempt to keep you warm and clothes that have more holes in than anything a normal person would deem unwearable. The cold has the power to bleed into your bones and leave you numb, and I’d welcomed that distraction because it had made me stop thinking of anything else. I’d lie awake at night, wondering where Tessa could be, and even though I’d wanted to find her, I’d prayed to any god that would listen to make sure she was safe and warm with a roof over her head. I hadn’t been able to bear the thought of her out in the urban night like I was.

  Just those couple of weeks after we left home had proved to me that what I’d done was wrong. She’d been cold and hungry—we both had—but she’d also been so small. Who in their right mind thinks that letting a ten-year-old sleep rough in the middle of London is a good idea? Tessa’s tiny body would never have survived, even if she hadn’t been snatched, and the regret I’d felt when I realised what I’d chosen to put her through still hangs over my head and eats away at me even after all these years. Those days had been hard, the nights even harder, and for that, I’ve paid the price. I shouldn’t have made us leave. We shouldn’t have run purely because I thought I’d be doing right in protecting her. I should have kept a roof over our heads so she’d had a bed and the security kids her age need. I may not have been responsible for her disappearance but I’m the true reason she’s not by my side today.

  Then again, what fucking mother would put her children through such neglect and torture while they watched her waste away with drugs and alcohol?

  I hear movement coming from inside my apartment, and I know it’s Emmet. He’s doing his usual nightly check-ups on me, but in all honesty, I secretly enjoy the company. Too many times this world has been a lonely place, and even though I may not often show it, I appreciate his friendship more than life itself. He’s a good man, and any woman who manages to stay in his bed will be treated like damn royalty. I’ve never known a person willing to give more than they are wanting to receive back. You don’t come by that these days and you certainly don’t expect that from an Officer—well I hadn’t that’s for sure.

  After the first time I’d seen him on duty, Emmet had often stopped by to check how I was doing and how my art skills were taking off. I’d first started with coloured chalks—having raised money from the donations of the public, I’d purchased a box instead of food. Drawing had kept my mind distracted, and the more people started to acknowledge them, the more coins were thrown my way. Not long after Emmet had made me a part of his weekly priority, a group of selfish kids had stolen what little money I had earned along with the only scraps of food that I had. Emmet had been on duty. I’d naturally caused a scene, kicking off, and was then arrested. I’d never cared about the fact I was bundled into a car by his colleague. I’d never cared about the fact I was giving the London public entertainment over a few bags of crisps and a poor amount of change. At that point, I’d been suddenly gratefu
l that I’d have shelter for the night. It was then that I’d found out my true age. After years of living on the streets, each day rolling into the next and another year becoming more daunting than the last, I’d forgotten who I was and everything about me. I hadn’t been able to remember my age, but records had shown I was twenty. I’d been living on the streets for six years and had become part of the dirt and rubble that blew in the wind.

  Once released from the cells, I’d left the station with just as little hope as when I’d entered. I’d walked my grubby, reeking body down the streets for another day, looking for a place of refuge until I’d felt a hand on my shoulder.

  Emmet.

  From that moment on, he’s helped me get my life back on track, no matter how lost and demoralising those times have been.

  My head turns to the side to listen as soon as I hear voices. For a second, I question whether he’s on the phone, but when the voice of an angel echoes through the apartment and wraps around me like the wind, a rush of both anger and desire channels through my body.

  She’s here: the woman who has been nothing but a distraction from the moment she arrived. The anger inside me is because she’s now in my personal space, and the last person I want to ever truly enter my twisted world is her. I don’t regret what I said to her earlier—I’d have said the same to any other person—but the look in her eye had been like a kick to the gut I wasn’t expecting, and what bothers me the most is the fact she’s having this effect on me when I’m trying so hard to pretend she’s not.

  I’m not a good enough man to have sweet little Pepper, and I sure as hell am not worthy.

  Of anyone.

  “Dex, you coming in? I’ve got food,” Emmet shouts, not having to come out and see what I’m doing because he always knows. When I’m not working, I’m out here in the polluted environment where I’m closest to my sister. The city and the hard, brutal stones that line the paths of the urban world are all I have as remains of her: no photo, no item of clothing... Nothing. Just me, the night sky and a foundation of memories.