She had been to Lily’s parents’ street a few times in the past. The roads weren’t paved even though it came off the main street. The houses were dilapidated and minutes away from being condemned. Lily’s old house was the only one that seemed even remotely kept up to date and that was only because of Sloan. Even in the harsh light of morning, each building was a squat demon waiting to pounce. Beth tried not to think about it as she eased slowly up the street. She squinted at each yard, searching for the one Lily had described the night before. Not many had fences, broken or otherwise. But she found the one she was looking for and stopped in front of it.
The windows were black where the drab, paisley patterned drapes hadn’t been pulled closed. The yard was a mangled mess of upturned earth and dead grass. There was a concrete path leading off the dirt road to the rickety front porch. At some point, someone had hammered down a series of white planks around the front and down the sides. But they must not have done a very good job. Most of it bowed to the house while the other half lay scattered across the lawn. She wasn’t entirely sure she had the right house, but it was the only one with a small broken truck in front.
Nevertheless, her feet refused to take part in her idiotic decision. They remained firmly rooted just before the stone slabs.
What was the worst that could happen? She kept asking herself, her stomach a writhing pit of snakes. I’ll walk up, knock and ask for directions, or to use their phone. I’ll see that Damon’s on the sofa, cuddled under blankets, groggy from a cold and not a broken and bloody mess and leave.
Comforted by her half-baked logic, she willed her legs to move. The wind felt wonderful against the sweat plastering her clothes to her skin as she took her first step. Her heels clicked on stone as she crossed the path to the door. Taking a deep breath, she raised a hand and knocked.
Minutes clicked by one after another before she knocked again. She glanced at the houses around her, expecting someone to be watching, but it wasn’t that sort of neighborhood. The people here didn’t care one bit who was at whose door.
She knocked again, ignoring the sting in her hand from her burns.
“Hello?” she called. “Is anyone home?”
Only the whistle of the wind blowing through the bare branches of the oak tree out front answered her back.
Biting her lip, she stole another peek at the blank windows peering back at her from the surrounding houses. Certain that no one was watching, she left the porch and circled the house, looking for a low window she could peep through.
She didn’t find one. But she did find the rotted pyramid of stairs leading to grimy terrace doors. The boards groaned beneath her weight. She placed each foot gingerly, holding tight to the rickety banister all the way to the top. The window was a smudge of handprints, filth and dirt, but she used her jacket sleeve to clean as much of it off as possible before cupping her hands and peering inside.
The room was dark, but she could just make out the bulky shape of a sofa, a TV, and a coffee table. There was no movement in the place.
Wondering if maybe she had the wrong house, or worse, Damon was hurt so badly they had to take him to the hospital, Beth took a careful step back. Her gaze went to the latch. She stared at it, her heart and mind racing.
It’s now or never, the voice told her.
Wetting her lips with an anxious tongue, she took hold of the handle, ignored the scream of her hands as nearly healed skin tore and jerked.
The window rolled seamlessly along its tracks and Beth found herself stepping over the threshold.
“Hello?” she called again. “Is anyone home?”
Silence greeted her. She took it as a sign and carefully closed the terrace door behind her.
The place smelled of sweat, burned macaroni, cigarettes and stale beer and despair. The latter was more of a feeling than a scent. Beth tried to ignore it as she edged around an armchair towards the doorway across the room. She noted there were no pictures on the walls, no toys or books. It was a man’s house, sparse and ill kempt. There was only one reclining chair facing the TV while the sofa was pushed far against the wall. Anyone sitting there wouldn’t even be able to see the screen. There was a TV tray next to the recliner filled with cigarette butts and beer bottles. A belt lay discarded underneath it and Beth tried not to think what it had been used for.
The hallway was broken into three sections. The left went to the front door. The right opened to absolute darkness and straight ahead was a set of narrow stairs. She ignored the right and started up the stairs. The top landing was a thick coat of black and she was too afraid to turn any lights on. Her heart was a frantic mess in her chest, screaming for her to run, to get out. But she knew she couldn’t until she knew for sure that Damon was all right.
Digging into her back pocket, she brought out her phone and turned the flashlight app on. The harsh, white light spilled over a straight hallway and four doors.
Carefully, she eased forward, ears straining for even the slightest sound. She contemplated calling out, but that was just stupid and she’d already done enough stupid things for one day.
A low cough caught her attention. Her flashlight swung from side to side as though it could somehow point an arrow in the direction of the sound. Her feet quickened, moving past one, then two doors until she was at the last one on the end. A moan echoed the second time and she reached for the doorknob. The light jittered in her unsteady hand.
Please don’t let it be a dog. Please don’t let it be a dog.
Taking a breath, she pried the door open and passed the light through first.
The spotlight hovered over a bed, a dresser and a tiny figure sprawled face down across the hardwood. Something dark was puddled under it that shimmered when the light spilled over it.
“Oh God!”
Pushing the door open wider, Beth hurried inside. The phone was set down, face up so the whole room was cast in a pale glow. She scooped the bundle up, turning him over in her arms.
“Damon?”
His mouth was bleeding. His nose was bleeding. There was a gash at his temple and a litter of bruises across his jaw and around his eyes. His little body was limp. His every breath jagged and raspy.
“Damon!” She pulled him closer, holding him as tightly as she dared without causing even more pain. “Open your eyes, baby. Come on,” she pleaded.
A low, wet gurgle sounded from his throat that could have only been a whimper and her heart shattered. Tears blinded her and she had to bite back her own sob.
“It’s okay,” she whispered.
Bruised eyelids opened to thin slits of listless blue and met hers.
Beth tried to force a smile, but her calm was ruined by the tear that slid down her cheek. “It’s okay,” she said again. “You’re safe now. I’m going to get you out of here.”
His eyes slipped closed and he was limp in her arms once more.
“Damon?”
The uneven rise and fall of his chest was the only response she got. Thinking quickly, Beth gathered him up into her arms and carried him to the bed. She lay him down and drew the blankets around him.
“Don’t … go…” Tiny fingers curled around her hand when she tried to pull away.
Her heart wrenched. “I’m not going anywhere. I won’t leave you.” She gently smoothed back his hair on the side not caked in blood and brushed a kiss to his brow. “I promise.”
He seemed to relax. His fingers released her and she moved quickly to her phone. Snatching it up, she hurried back to the bed, quick dialing the sheriff as she went.
Chapter Eleven ~ Cole
The first thing Cole did when he got into the office was call Luanne Chavez.
“Hello Mrs. Chavez. It’s Cole McClain. I just really want to apologize for not being able to come and have a look at your laptop last night. Some unavoidable circumstances came into play and I just lost track of time.”
“Don’t worry yourself over that,” she said sweetly. “It happens to the best of us. I’m about to
head on out myself, but I can swing by your office on my way to the grocery store and drop the laptop off. That way you can work on it when you got some time.”
Cole shook his head even though she couldn’t see it. He started to tell her he’d come to her, it was the least he could do for standing her up, when his cellphone buzzed across his desk. He faltered mid speech as Beth’s name came up on the screen.
“Mrs. Chavez, can I call you right back?” He hung up before she could respond and snatched up the cell. “Beth?”
There was a roar of some sort on the other end. It sounded like wind and raised voices and the strange chatter of people over mics.
“Beth?”
He heard her breath before she spoke. “Please don’t be upset with me.”
His heart dropped like a stone into his stomach. He was out of his chair before he could even process his next move.
“Where are you? What happened?”
“I did something and I think I might need a lawyer.”
He couldn’t think straight by the time Sloan pulled down Lily’s old street. The police barricade only intensified his frenzy as he threw himself out of the Mustang while it was still moving and ran to the ambulance.
Beth hadn’t given him the whole story. She hadn’t told him why she was on that street or why the sheriff was thinking of arresting her, only that she was there and she needed him. It was sheer luck that Sloan didn’t have a job that morning and was at Cole’s office in a matter of minutes to pick him up, because Cole did not trust himself to drive anywhere when all he could see, feel, and taste was sheer panic.
She was standing behind the sheriff’s cruiser, arms folded tightly around her shivering frame. Her shoulders were up and she was staring imploringly at Henley as the sheriff explained something. But it was the blood … so much fucking blood and it was everywhere, on her face, her hands, her clothes … in her hair. Cole’s entire world seemed to tilt for just a second before it all came screeching back. His own breathing roared between his ears. His heart was a wild drum beating out of control. He was barely aware of someone trying to stop him. Then they were gone and he wasn’t sure, but he might have shoved them. He barreled towards Beth.
He must have called her name. Maybe even screamed it. Her head shot up. Her green eyes were wide and bright against her pale complexion. They filled with tears when she saw him. Then her arms were open, waiting for him and he was there, yanking her into his chest.
“Are you hurt?” He jerked her back just as quickly, gripping her shoulders in what was probably a painful hold, but he was scared shitless that she might somehow vanish if he let her go. “Are you hurt?” he demanded when she didn’t say anything.
Her bottom lip trembled. “It’s not mine.”
He thrust her back into his arms, crushing her. “It’s okay. I’m going to make this okay. Shhh.” Planting a kiss to her brow, he turned to the man standing in front of them. “What happened?”
The sheriff sighed. “Ms. Doan here is currently under arrest, Mr. McClain. You can ask your questions, as her lawyer, at the sheriff’s office.”
Cole’s arms tightened around Beth. “What are the charges?”
“Breaking and entering into the home of one Eddy Comb.”
“I’m sorry,” Beth murmured into Cole’s chest.
Cole shushed her gently while he tried to put the pieces of the puzzle together. His gaze roamed over the parked police cruisers and the ambulance taking up the entire street. Then he glanced at the house that seemed to be the object of everyone’s fascination.
It was a dump like the rest of the houses along the road, but he knew exactly whose house it belonged to.
“What did you do, Beth?” he whispered just for her ear.
She didn’t have to answer. The EMTs pulled out through the front door, a gurney between them. A small, still figure was hidden beneath blankets. He was wheeled down the pathway and lifted into the back of the ambulance.
“Wait!” Beth tore out of his arms. “I have to go with him.”
“You are not going anywhere,” Henley told her. “You’re under arrest.”
“No!” She turned those pleading green eyes towards Cole. “Please, I have to go with him. I promised I wouldn’t leave him.” She looked to Henley. “Please. You can arrest me and charge me and do whatever you need to do, but I have to be there when he wakes up.”
“Sheriff,” Cole quickly jumped in, “You’ve known me my whole life, correct?”
Henley narrowed his eyes. “What’s your point, McClain?”
“My point is that you know I’m good for my word. I promise to bring Beth in personally tomorrow morning if you could just see it in your heart to let her stay with the boy until he wakes up. I will take full responsibility for her.”
Henley furrowed bushy eyebrows. “Boy, do I look like some kind of fool? This here ain’t no negotiation.”
“No,” Cole agreed. “But I would consider it a personal favor. You know I can be trusted,” he pressed. “She will not leave my sights for a minute. I swear it.”
Henley continued to glower at him. Then he glanced at Beth. Then at the ambulance.
He sighed. “You got until morning,” he told Cole. “If she’s not in my office at the crack of dawn, I will arrest the both of ya.”
Cole inclined his head. “Fair enough. Thank you.”
Beth threw her arms around the other man’s neck, taking them all by surprise. “Thank you!”
The sheriff frowned at her, but there was no heat behind the scowl. “You just remember that I will hunt you down if you try and run.”
Beth nodded. “I promise. Thank you.”
Not waiting for the sheriff to change his mind, or for Cole to walk with her, Beth turned and hurried to the ambulance. Cole watched her duck inside before turning to face the sheriff once more.
“Thank you again, Sheriff.”
“Yeah well, I got a shit hole father to track down anyhows. Seems a tad bit more important right now.”
Henley muttered something about going soft in his old age before ambling away.
Cole turned to Sloan standing a few feet behind him and exhaled. “Thanks for the ride.”
Sloan nodded. “Let me know what happens.”
With a wave, Cole jogged to the ambulance just as one of the EMTs was about to shut the doors. He took the seat next to Beth.
She didn’t notice. Her whole focus was on the boy. His tiny hand was clutched in one of hers and she was using the other to stroke the side of his face.
The kid looked bad. Someone, probably Beth, had cleaned his face, but there was no scrubbing away the sheer brutality of what had happened to him. Both his eyes were haloed in dark rings that spread across his nose and down his cheeks. His lip was bloody, the skin broken in an ugly gash that would probably need stitches, so would the cut at his temple. Cole couldn’t see the rest of him, but he had a feeling Damon’s tiny body would be a road map of horror.
Just like Sloan, he thought miserably. But Sloan hadn’t been six when their father laid in on him. Sloan had been older. Their mother had stepped between them and their father until she passed. Then there was no one. But Damon was so small. He was so fucking small.
“Is he going to be all right?” Beth raised her head and fixed teary eyes on the EMT sitting across from them.
“Won’t know until we get him checked,” the man answered grimly.
Taking a shaky breath, Beth straightened. She looked towards the front and the windshield.
“Can’t you drive faster?” she snapped at the driver. “Put the damn sirens on or something. Come on!”
Cole took her shoulders lightly and pulled her back into him. “He’s going to be all right.”
She shook her head. “You didn’t see him, Cole. You didn’t see his tiny body all crumpled and…” She broke off when her voice hitched. “He just left him there in a puddle of blood, just … on the floor like garbage. How could anyone do something like that?”
; Cole was trying to figure that out himself.
“The doctors will fix him,” was all he could think to say.
“Then what?” Tears slid in endless rivulets down her cheeks to drop off her chin and dampen the front of her jacket. “They’ll put him in foster care? I’ve seen what foster care does to kids. I was older so I got lucky, but the younger ones…” She turned her head to peer down at Damon. “He’s already gone through so much.”
“One thing at a time, baby,” he whispered into the side of her head.
The minute they reached Willow Creek Memorial, Damon was wheeled inside and they were told to stay in the waiting area. Beth paced. Cole let her until she brought her dirty fingernails to her mouth.
“We should change your bandages,” he told her, taking hold of her hands before they could touch her lips.
Refusing to listen to her protests, he led her to a chair and gently removed her jacket. He pushed up her sweater sleeves and began unraveling the wraps.
The burns along her arm had mostly started to scab over, but her hands were smeared in blood from where she’d torn skin. The cracks were shallow and no longer bleeding, but he knew it would only set her recovery back.
“I’m going to find some bandages, okay?” he said. “Just stay right here.”
He found a nurse who gave him several rolls of gauze, some disinfectant wipes, and cream. Cole returned to find Beth still sitting where he’d left her. She didn’t stop him as he cleaned her up, wiping away the blood from her face and hands and rewrapping her wounds.
“Tell me what happened,” he said, hoping to distract her while getting the story. “Why were you at Damon’s house?”
She turned those sad green eyes on him. “I couldn’t just go home and wait for something to be done,” she murmured. “I only went hoping I would see him and see that he was all right. The backdoor was open so I…”
Cole hissed through his teeth. “Beth.”
“I’m not sorry I went!” she snapped. “If I hadn’t, Damon would still be lying there, or worse.” Her mouth set in a stubborn line and she averted her eyes. “I would do it all over again.”
Bye-Bye Baby Page 15