Wanting (PAVAD)

by Calle J. Brookes

  “Trust. Make eye contact, but don’t stare. Don’t be derisive or condescending. For many of these kids this life is better than what they’ve left behind. They’ll take pride that they’ve made the decision and taken control of their lives—even if they secretly feel out of control. Don’t act as if their appearances offend you, despite the smell. And they will smell. It’s hard to stay clean out in this world.” Carrie pressed the button for the crosswalk. She turned to him, a flat expression on her face. One of remembrance. Of pain. “Most of all, don’t ask personal questions or get in their space. They’ll run then. And we’ll lose any credibility.”

  “Is that what it was like for you? Did you get hassled a lot?”

  “Nearly every day. We kept moving, to keep under the radar. Paige...Paige was obsessed with avoiding the cops, social services. We would do what we had to in order to get money. We’d use that money to get to another city. I don’t think we spent more than a month in any one place those first two years.”

  She was quiet for a few moments. “These kids probably won’t be like that. Not for the most part. We’ll have a few who are more transient, for whatever reason. They’ll be the hardest to talk to and probably the least helpful. Paige and I used to call them the nomads. They keep heads down, hands off, and stay to self. We used to be like them. They don’t do anything to get noticed.”

  “Yet these are the ones we’re looking for?”

  “Not necessarily.” They stopped, waited for another crosswalk. “We’re looking for anyone who may have spoken with her. It could be anyone, at this point.”

  Sebastian scanned the people on the block around them—two hookers too young to buy alcohol, a small group of homeboys undoubtedly looking to score, a man slumped against a door. Any of these people could have interacted with Ashleigh. They’d just have to talk to the right one.

  The rain increased, giving the concrete around them a hot, wet, sticky feel. It was the worst part of the city, and Sebastian could feel eyes on them—on his companion.

  He wrapped a hand around her elbow and pulled her more within his reach. “Just stay close, ok?”

  “I’ve been out here before. Both as a child and an agent. At least, these types of places.” Annoyance was clear in her words.

  “Yeah, but never with me. And you don’t look like a federal agent right now.”

  “What do I look like then?” The challenge in her tone had him suppressing a smile. He’d insulted her, then.

  He looked her over, taking in her feminine build, the red curls that the streetlight seemed drawn to, the soft skin, and the mouth made for sin. She looked feminine and hot and even a bit vulnerable. “You look like a target.”

  She stiffened and he knew immediately he’d said the exact wrong thing. “That’s one thing I won’t ever be again. Keep up, Agent Lorcan. We’ve got work to do.”

  She stalked ahead of him and Sebastian let her. She’d been through the same training at Quantico that he had; she should be able to take care of herself out here. If she couldn’t, he’d be questioning why. With her and with her superior. He straightened his jacket over his weapon once more and pulled the photograph of Ashleigh from his pocket, shoving the thoughts of his companion aside for when he was back in his hotel room, alone.

  Then he’d be free to unleash every thought he had about Carrie Sparks...and all the possibilities.

  Chapter 8

  *****

  She’d never been this hungry before. She’s used the last of her money earlier to buy a day-old doughnut and a pint of milk. It hadn’t lasted long. Now she was hungry and wet and tired. And afraid. She’d never been this afraid.

  The flood waters were continuing to rise and she knew it would be only a few more hours before she’d have to leave the construction site where she’d slept the night before. She didn’t want to drown, although it might be easier if she did. Then she wouldn’t have to worry about anything anymore.

  She wrapped her arms around her knees as rain water sluiced over the soles of her tennis shoes. Her jeans were soaked and muddy. She stunk, despite doing her best to wash up in the McDonalds bathroom. She only had one other change of clothes and those were just as wet. She’d washed them out in the bathroom sink, then carried them back to her hiding place. As long as it was raining, the clothes would never dry. Not that it mattered; the clothes were probably always going to be as dirty as she was.

  She pulled the thin blanket she’d brought with her, just a piece of fleece she’d bought on sale at the drugstore near her mother’s house. It had dogs on it, black and white puppies on a red background. It was so normal, so bright.

  It was all she had. Her fingers twisted into the material and she sobbed.

  Chapter 9

  *****

  Kevin had two photographs of her. One was a second grade yearbook photo he’d found by chance, the other was a black and white newspaper clipping taken the one time he’d met her.

  His little girl.

  He had four others, all younger. All with his deceased wife. They all knew he loved them. Caroline didn’t have that reassurance.

  But he did love her, had from the moment he’d learned she existed. He loved her enough that he would do whatever he had to do to see that no one hurt her ever again.

  He opened the desk drawer and pulled his service weapon out. Thirty-five years on the force, and only one smear on his record—a smear only he and one other knew about.

  And now that one other threatened one of his children.

  It didn’t matter that he’d never been a part of Caroline’s life. She was still his child.

  He’d find her, before Minton Rush could, and he’d do what he had to in order to keep her safe. It was his responsibility; he was her—

  “Daddy?”

  He dropped the gun and the photos back into the desk drawer and turned to the pretty girl—woman, now—standing in the study door. “Yes, baby?”

  “Dinner’s ready. I’ve made pot roast.”

  “Thanks, Melody. Are your sisters home, too?”

  “All of us are.” She smiled at him, the expression of warmth hitting her hazel eyes. It had been her kindergarten yearbook where he’d found his oldest daughter’s photograph.

  They’d favored one another, his Melody and the sister she knew nothing about. Caroline’s hair was more red, her eyes more golden than hazel. But he’d known looking at that tiny one inch photo that she was his daughter. He’d give anything to see Caroline sitting at his dining room table with his four younger daughters. “My lucky day, then. I’ll be there in a minute. And Mel, there is something I need to talk to you girls about.”

  Chapter 10

  *****

  “Why are you askin’?” The kid couldn’t have been more than thirteen, but the life he lived shown in his eyes. “He do somethin’?”

  “Just trying to help.” Sebastian didn’t reveal the fact that Ashleigh was hiding her gender. It would be safer for the girl if that fact was not well known. They’d been questioning people on the street for close to three hours, and none had seen Ashleigh—or were willing to say. Until this kid. “Have you seen Lee around lately?”

  “Naw. And it was just that one time this afternoon. Homeless shelter. Shitty food, man, but hell, it’s food. And it was dry. These rains are killers.” Sebastian suspected the kid had seen far less of his share of food than he should have.

  “When was this?” Carrie drew the boy’s attention her way. She’d walked up behind the boy without being seen from where she’d been talking to a trio of working girls younger than she. “How many days back?”

  The kid let out a whistle designed to draw attention. “Baby, why you hangin’ with grandpa here? You and me can go have a party.” He accompanied his words by grabbing his crotch and leering up the foot or so that separated his height from Carrie’s.

  “Come on, focus. And gramps here knows exactly what to do to make her happy. How many days back?” Sebastian fought the urge to smirk at the kid. He had
to give the boy points for having the balls to hit on Carrie right in front of him. But really, could he blame the kid for trying?

  He smiled and winked at Carrie again; Sebastian suppressed a laugh. “Three. Kid was lookin’ kind of rough, ya know what I mean?” The boy shook his head and shrugged. Sebastian fought the urge to step back as the scent of unwashed body wafted his way.

  “Rough? How? Drugs? Alcohol?” Carrie, at least, seemed immune to the boy’s obvious odor.

  “That kid? Hell, no. Completely sugar cookie material. Bait, that one. Real spooked. Somethin’ was on his tail.”

  “So how rough?” Sebastian pulled a card from his pocket. It had just his name and cell number. The kid had made them for cops, but Sebastian hadn’t told him what scale. And he wouldn’t, but he strongly suspected the kid would share the news of their occupations with anyone he could.

  “Scared, man. Jumpy. Needs to learn to hide that shit out here.” The kid took the card and shoved it in his pocket. “Dangerous.”

  “Thanks, man.” Sebastian pulled a twenty from his jeans and handed it to the boy. The kid took it with a look of mingled gratitude and resentment in his eyes. “For your trouble. Buy some food that’s not so shitty. And if you see anything, call that number.”

  “Whatever. Baby, it’s your loss if you prefer the geezer to me.” The street kid took off, disappearing seconds after leaving them.

  Sebastian turned to his partner. “You hungry, baby?”

  Carrie nodded. “Let’s go see if the homeless shelter’s food is as bad as he said, gramps...”

  ***

  Sebastian slipped a fifty into the shelter’s donation box, before he and Carrie took their place in the line.

  “Do you see her?” Carrie asked over the growing sound of yet another approaching storm.

  “No.” Sebastian took the tray the volunteer handed him. The middle-aged woman eyed him and Carrie with clear doubt and suspicion on her face. Sebastian gave her a nod. He would make a point of speaking with her later. She’d probably seen every single person who’d went through the food line. “Pick a seat. Likely candidates to talk about a teenage runaway.”

  “Table near the back. Family of four. They’ll probably be willing to help a lost kid.” Carrie’s tone was low, sad. Sebastian followed her gaze, understanding what bothered her about the sight. Two young people and two young children, all dressed shabbily but neat. They shouldn’t have needed the shelter, but they did. No one in the room should have needed the shelter. But they did. Sebastian was grateful that he and Carrie were just visiting, and thankful for what he had.

  Neither spoke as they crossed the dining area.

  Carrie was the first to reach the target table. “May we sit here?”

  The mother looked up, eyes widening with nerves. Sebastian knew what she saw—he and Carrie didn’t belong. And in this type of place, if someone didn’t belong they were probably authorities of some sort.

  The father tensed, probably fearing they were social services. The children, early elementary-aged, just stared out of weary eyes.

  “We don’t mean any harm. We just want to eat. We’re also looking for a friend,” Carrie said, placing her tray beside the little girl’s. She smiled at the child, a sweet expression meant to comfort.

  “We haven’t seen anyone,” the father said as Sebastian sat his tray down.

  “We have a photograph.” Carrie pulled the snapshot from her pocket. “She’s only fourteen and ran away a week ago. Someone said they’d seen her here. We are hoping so—we thought she was in St. Louis. We really want to find her before something happens to her. Her name is Ashleigh. She likes dogs and purple nail polish. Her favorite subject in school is English because she likes to read,” Carrie continued talking. Sebastian knew what she was trying to do—appeal to the woman’s motherly instincts. And it was working, that was evident in the way the mother’s face was softening.

  “She looks so young...are you sure she’s fourteen?” The woman picked up the photo before looking at her own blue-eyed blonde children. Her daughter especially. “Why on earth did she run? Her parents must be sick with worry over her.”

  “We don’t know why she ran. She’s a really good kid; I’ve known her since she was six. She’s so naïve, too. Ashleigh is not equipped to be out here on her own. Have you seen her?” Sebastian drew the woman’s attention to him.

  “We’ve only been coming here a week. My husband lost his job and we heard there were more available here than in Detroit. I think I remember her. She may have been here yesterday, I think. I can’t say for sure. I’m sorry.”

  “Did she maybe come in with someone? Sit with anyone in particular? Speak with anyone?” Carrie gave her apple to the little girl next to her as she spoke.

  “He—she—came in alone, but I think Irene may have spoken with her.”

  “Irene?” Sebastian asked.

  “The woman at the head of the food line. She runs the shelter and the kitchen.” The father nodded in the direction of the food line. “Hope you find that kid.”

  Carrie smiled at the man. “Thank you. And best of luck to you all.”

  It took them fifteen minutes to get Irene to open up to them. The middle-aged woman who’d first noticed them had turned out to be Irene. They’d joined her as she supervised a small cleanup crew. She’d easily made them for cops. “Scared kid. I knew she wasn’t no boy. I’ve been doing this job long enough to know some of the tricks of this world. Despite the hair and clothes this was no boy. Too feminine and refined for that. I asked her if she had a place to stay and if she needed help. Could tell she’d not been out here that long.”

  Sebastian had quickly explained their purpose, and asked several questions about the shelter. Enough to make the woman comfortable enough to know they weren’t there to pry information or hassle the shelter’s residents or the kitchen’s daily visitors. “What was her response?”

  “Evasive. But so, so scared. I wanted to press the issue, but I was afraid, too. Didn’t want her to get too scared and not come back. I haven’t seen her since. That was two or three days ago. I hope you can find her, but I’m not sure I can be much help.”

  “Was there anything that stood out? Would help pinpoint where she was camping?” Carrie asked.

  Irene shook her head. “Nothing that stands out. She did have a McDonalds cup with her last time I saw her. She filled it with water before she left.”

  ***

  Ten minutes later they were back at the SUV. Carrie placed her laptop on the hood and isolated all the McDonalds restaurants within easy walking distance of the New Hope Shelter.

  “What are the chances the cup was one she found and reused?”

  “Not high.” Carrie focused on the screen, trying to put herself in Ashleigh’s shoes once again. She would have wanted to stay close to her home base—less of a chance of getting lost or running into trouble. “Those cups only last so long. And most people don’t empty them before tossing them. They are good if you are really thirsty and don’t have access to a readily available water supply. People are wasteful. The cups would have liquid in them—usually soda—that eats at the material of the cups. The soda is acidic, so the cups don’t last too long. She probably bought it, drank it, and rinsed the cup out—”

  Sebastian held up a hand, cutting her off. “I get it. She bought it. So we’ll start with the restaurant closest to the shelter and work from there.”

  Chapter 11

  *****

  They’d taken it better than Kevin had expected, but he knew his girls didn’t fully understand. How could they? He barely understood it himself.

  He’d always taught his girls to face their mistakes, to take responsibility for their actions. The fact that he hadn’t known about Caroline until she was nine hadn’t helped his case.

  It had only partially mollified the girls when he’d explained how Caroline’s mother had run off with a known criminal after he and his partner questioned her about her involvement in a ca
se he was working. He’d explained how he’d told his wife immediately the night he’d met Caroline ten years later and suspected she was his. Told the girls how he and Susan had went to child services the next day to see about getting Caroline to live with them. But somehow Caroline had disappeared into the system and no amount of searching had been able to trace exactly where the little girl had been taken.

  Kevin had never understood that. How could a child under the watch of social services just disappear? Someone on the inside had to have been corrupt, but he’d never been able to isolate just who. Or why his little girl would have been of interest.

  Her mother had been a petty criminal, her step-father, as well. He’d never been able to solve the murder of Caroline’s mother, but he’d tried.

  Every cop had that one case he just couldn’t solve. His just happened to be the murder of his child’s mother.

  The man who was paroled four days ago. Seventeen years later, and Kevin knew he may finally have a shot at finding his daughter.

  He wasn’t stopping until he did.

  Chapter 12

  *****

  “That kid? Comes in every day or so, and has for the last four. I think she’s homeless, but she doesn’t cause any trouble and always buys something—even if it’s just an order of fries.”

  “Are you sure it’s this girl?”

  “Yeah. The blue eyes are pretty distinctive. And I always work the early shift—except today ‘cause we had somebody call in sick—and I see her every day. It took a few days to realize she was a girl, though.” The restaurant manager was extremely helpful. They’d approached her during an obvious lull in the business crowd. Once they’d explained their purpose she’d been doubly willing to help. She’d mentioned she had children of her own Ashleigh’s age.