Diamond Lake Series: Complete Series (Bks 1-7) Boxset

by T. K. Chapin

  I made my way to the front door and opened it. My eyes grew wide as my heart started to pound. It wasn't Charlie, but a long-forgotten woman from my past.

  "Jessica?" The word tumbled from my lips, but it didn't make sense. I hadn't seen her since college, almost eight years ago.

  "Brody." Desperation dripped from her soft pink lips I once knew. She hadn't appeared to age a day since college. The ragged sweatshirt and torn up jeans she was wearing sang a sad song, but her face and skin were still radiant the way I had remembered. Her hand came up and rested on a little boy's head at her waistline, drawing my eyes away from her. Dirty blond hair and a broken smile weighed on the boy's expression. His eyes held a story of struggle. Jessica smoothed his hair and said, "Could we come in?”

  A quick glance over her shoulder gave me the indication she was in trouble of some kind. Her eyes shifted back to me once again. A pained but hopeful look rested in her eyes and I recalled the countless women who frequented the precinct in the hopes of the cops helping them lock up deadbeat boyfriends and abusive husbands. I knew the look she had in her eyes all too well. My eyes turned to the boy.

  "Come in," I offered, opening the door fully. The two of them walked inside. Leading them into the living room, I gave the boy a gun magazine from the rack I kept alongside the couch and he sat down, skimming the pages. Jessica and I walked into the kitchen. Lowering my voice as I leaned against the counter and narrowed my focus on her, I asked, "What's going on?"

  “That’s your son in the other room."

  Taken aback, I took a step back, retracting from the notion and her. I couldn't help but steal a glance around the corner and scan his facial features for a moment. A wave of uneasiness rose inside me like a rising tide in the morning. Returning my gaze to Jessica, I noticed her eyes were shifting to the left and right.

  "I can't have a son, Jess." Shaking my head, I couldn’t come to grips with what she was attempting to tell me.

  "But you do."

  Raising a hand, I shook my head. "If you're in trouble, Jess, I can help. But don't try to tell me I have a son."

  “The less you know, the better. I just need you to take care of him for a few days. I’ll be back on Wednesday. I promise I'll come back for him, Brody." She pressed her hand against her forehead as her eyes watered. My heart softened. Tears from any woman had a way of moving compassion through me.

  Coming closer to her, I touched her arm lightly and leaned in, catching her eyes. "I can help, but not like that. I'm the Chief of Police and I have—”

  Biting her lip, she squinted. "That's exactly why I thought you could take care of him. You can protect Peter."

  "Protect him from what? And what about you?"

  She turned her head away.

  "Jess . . ." My words stuck to the top of my mouth, struggling to form. "You just show up on my doorstep expecting me to take care of your kid?"

  "But he's yours too, Brody."

  I took in a deep breath of reality, trying to let it sink in. It didn't sit right with me. I couldn't believe her words. She would’ve told me before now. Crossing my arms, I leaned against the counter. "You know I can find out if that's true."

  "Don't you think I know that?" she asked, shaking her head. Pulling out a folded piece of paper, she handed it to me. “You’ll need that. It’s my written permission to get it done. I know you, Brody. I knew you’d want to test him.”

  My cellphone I left on my bed began ringing. Raising a finger, I said, "One second." Leaving the kitchen, I took off down the hallway to my bedroom. The number was from an unknown caller.

  "Jenkins," I answered, heading back through the doorway.

  "We have a lead on the bell." The words stopped me, causing me to step back into my room.

  A group of divers, hired by the Mayor of Newport, had found the infamous golden bell that had been lost years ago. The entire town was ecstatic that the town’s long lost treasure had been recovered. There was a ceremony and celebration as the townspeople removed the horse statue that had been a placeholder for so many years. When the ribbon was cut and the bell in place, the town of Newport was happy. That joy didn’t last long as someone, probably several, stole the bell. I tried to warn the mayor about the ramifications of a solid gold bell in the middle of town, but he didn't seem too worried about it. The bell only made it two days before being snatched by the thieves.

  Pulling back the phone from my ear as I turned and walked near my bed, I peered at the number again. It didn't register in my mind in the slightest. Bringing it back to my ear, I asked, "Who is this?"

  "Ponce, sir." Nate Ponce was the new recruit at the station. I hadn't saved his number into my phone. He had been helping head up the missing bell investigation that launched late last month. "This woman believes she knows who did it."

  "I'll save your number. Sorry about that. Tell me, Ponce. Where is this witness now?" Up until this witness, there was not a single scrap of evidence or even the faint hint of a lead. A break in the case was not only great for the rookie, but for our entire police force. There had been reports of unsettled feelings beginning to develop amongst the townsfolk after a man was wrongfully imprisoned for a murder and then the bell vanished. We needed something like this to rally support and faith in the police department.

  "I have her here at the precinct. She agreed to come in for questioning." He paused. "She's talking about leaving soon though . . ."

  "I'm heading there now."

  Hanging up, I walked down the hallway to the kitchen to return to Jess. "Sorry to cut this reunion short, but I'm going to—”

  She wasn't there.

  My jaw clenched and my heart raced. Maybe she went outside to get something from the car? A hopeful thought, but not likely. Grabbing my keys from the kitchen counter, I headed out into the living room to leave and saw the boy still sitting quietly on my couch.

  He looked up from the magazine. When his weepy eyes connected with mine, I already knew she was gone.

  "Where's your mom?" I asked, already dreading the answer I knew to be true.

  His eyes gravitated over to the door. "She left."

  A mixture of anger and sadness for the boy bubbled up to the forefront of my mind. Grabbing my cellphone, I was about to call Child Protective Services, but then Jess's words pressed against my mind. He was my son. Is it true? Going to Child Protective Services was what I was trained to do, but if this little guy was my own flesh and blood, I couldn't hand him over to them. He was my responsibility if it were true.

  Pinching the bridge of my nose for a moment, I massaged, trying to let my indignation for Jess cool to a manageable level. Opening my eyes a moment later, I looked at the kid. "Come on. We're leaving."

  The boy set down the magazine and stood up.

  "Go ahead and grab that and bring it with us. You're going to be sitting around a while down at the precinct."

  His eyes widened, flashing worry and uncertainty, yet he remained quiet.

  "It's okay. I'm a cop, Peter. I need to get to work, and I have nowhere for you to go. You'll have to tag along with me today." Walking over to the kid, I reached past him and retrieved a few more magazines. Handing them to him, I said, "Take a few extra. Just in case."

  No words came from his lips, just compliance. He grabbed a few more magazines and followed me out the door. Walking the driveway, I saw a backpack sitting beside my police cruiser. I opened the back door of the cop car, and Peter's steps slowed to a stop.

  "What?" I asked. Turning my head, I saw my cruiser from the perspective of a civilian, possibly a civilian who had not known the police to be the good guys. "It's okay, Peter. You're not in trouble. My other car stays at the station most of the time. We have to use this car to get to my job."

  He still didn't want to get in.

  In the front seat, I grabbed a Junior Police sticker and handed it over to him in the driveway. Raising an eyebrow as I saw him inspect it, I said, "We're the good guys, kid. You can trust me."

  Pet
er looked up at me, and for the first time that morning, I saw a hint of a smile. Though it fell away pretty much right after it arrived, I could tell I got to him for at least a moment. Nothing like a sticker to help ease the painful experience of your mother dropping you off with a stranger. Finally, he was content enough to get into the back of the police cruiser and we headed down to the station.

  Arriving at the precinct, I had the boy sit down in the row of chairs against the wall near where Tracy, our precinct's receptionist, sat. That morning, like most mornings, was slow, and most of the officers spent their time IVing caffeine to help get a start on the day. Most crime happens in the later hours of the day, revving up to full-swing by night. My mother told me as a boy that nothing good happens after ten o'clock. I never knew how true that was until I began my career in law enforcement. Night was when the sins of the people were hidden, or at least that's what they hoped.

  "Can you keep an eye on the boy?” I asked Tracy. “His name is Peter." Tapping my fingers on the counter and raising an eyebrow, I waited. I could tell she was flustered and busy with her own duties. That, coupled with the fact that everyone in the precinct knew how much she wished she could stay home with her two little boys. She had done it for years. That changed, though, after her husband, Mike, was lost at sea on a shrimp boat last year up in the Bering Sea. She had no other option than to go back to work. She was always stressed and homesick, though she made a strong attempt to hide it. Leaning in, I lowered my voice and looked at her directly. "I know it's not your job and it's inconvenient for you, but I would really appreciate it and I’d owe you one."

  She smiled, appreciation lighting her eyes. "That's fine. Officer Ponce is in the interview room waiting for you."

  Nodding, I said, "Thank you." I didn't have to coat my request in apologies, but I had empathy for her daily struggle. Turning around, I went back over to Peter and looked down at him. "Sit here and I'll be back in a while. Okay?"

  He nodded, no words.

  "All right then." As I walked away, I peered over my shoulder at the kid. Everything felt wonky and unfamiliar to me. Leaving the child behind with the magazines, I turned my focus to the case of the missing bell and headed into the interview room.

  Chapter 2

  THE KEY WITNESS TURNED OUT to be a waste of time. Questioning Mrs. Debbie Jamison was a long ordeal down at the police station and resulted in absolutely no information. She clammed up when it came down to confessing what she saw. It was easy to read between the lines of the elderly librarian. She had seen something, but for some reason, she wouldn’t say what. At the last minute, when it was time to hand over the details, she backtracked, blaming her age and poor memory. I suspected it was something. Maybe she knew the person and didn't want them in trouble. After the wasted and pointless conversation down at the precinct, I decided to jet out early and take Peter over to Charlie and Serenah's inn down on Diamond Lake. Charlie was the closest friend I felt I could open to about anything.

  Opening the back door of the police cruiser, I let Peter out and his eyes glued themselves to the gorgeous view of the lake behind the inn.

  "It's nice, huh?" I asked, shutting the door as he stepped out.

  He nodded in my direction and then retracted his eyes from the lake. A barking dog caught his attention. A window in the private quarters that rested between the garage and the inn revealed Snowball, the fluffy little Lhasa Apso about the size of a large ham. He continued to bark maniacally.

  "Annoying little dog, ain't it?" I asked.

  He laughed.

  Walking up the driveway together, we approached the front door and I knocked.

  Serenah answered, beaming as usual. "Come on in, Brody." Walking inside, she shut the door behind us. "And who is this?" she asked, her eyes on Peter.

  A good question, but difficult to answer. "This is Peter. He's staying with me for a while."

  Serenah's eyes met mine for a moment. I could see she wanted more details. Who wouldn't? The single and quiet Police Chief suddenly has a seven-year-old boy he's taking around town. It was bound to spark questions in everyone. After bending at the knees and saying hello to Peter, she went to get Charlie, vanishing into the kitchen and down the hallway that led to the private quarters.

  Making ourselves comfortable on the couch in the main living area, I watched Peter as his eyes grew wide and traced along the oversized bay windows leading out to the porch overlooking the lake. He looked like I had felt the first few times I had visited the inn. It was a gorgeous property, and breathtaking views were available in almost every area of the house.

  "Heya, Brody." Charlie's friendly and familiar voice filled the air as he entered the living room and stuck out a hand to shake mine. Rising to my feet, I shook his hand and smiled. He was quickly becoming one of my best friends in the area. We became close after he invited me to a guy's night out playing poker and drinking sodas in the second living room in the downstairs of the inn. Charlie, Dylan, Nathan, and Joe had been hunting for a fifth player for a while after Connor and Angela moved to Hawaii. One poker night, when I had knocked on the inn's door with questions about a report of a burglary next door, they invited me to join them. I declined that evening but ended up taking them up on the offer a week later.

  After exchanging greetings, Charlie told Peter about the toys they kept downstairs and he left to go play. As Peter exited the room and headed down the stairs off the foyer, Charlie turned to me with wide eyes. "So, who's the kid, man?"

  Tilting my head as my lips curled up to one side, I shook my head. "You'll never guess who showed up on my doorstep this morning."

  Crossing his arms, he shook his head. "Who?"

  "Jessica Larson."

  He leaned in. "Jessica Larson? The one that hooked up with your roommate?"

  My lips pursed and a short nod followed.

  He reached out and patted my shoulder. "Sorry, man. I don't mean to scratch at old wounds. But what's that got to do with the kid? She dropped her kid off with you?"

  "Yeah, man. On top of that, she tried to claim he's mine."

  Charlie bobbed his head around as he tossed the idea in his head. "Kid kind of looks like you, to be completely honest, Brody."

  "Why? Because he has blond hair?" I laughed, shaking my head. "I'm not the only blond guy out there in the world. Plus, you know about how Jess conducted herself . . ." One poker night, we took turns going around the table and discussing bad breakups after Dylan mentioned Emily being upset about losing her latest boyfriend.

  Shaking a finger at me, he smiled. "No, man. God's up to something here, Brody. Don't forget He works in mysterious ways."

  "I'm going to get a DNA test tomorrow. I trust God, I really do. But I need to verify everyone else."

  He laughed. "I'd get a test done too."

  "Speaking of kids, how's Isabelle?"

  "Good, good. Unicorn child all the way.”

  “A what?”

  He laughed. “It’s a term for a child that is unnaturally well-behaved. She sleeps all night and loves to smile. Rarely cries. Serenah's already talking of another soon."

  Raising an eyebrow, I said, "But you just had one!"

  "She doesn't want to spread out diaper changing forever. She’d rather just have a solid set of years one after another and then be done for good."

  "That's still insane to me, but I bet it would be easier for her in the future."

  "Yeah. She's a smart gal." Rubbing his chin as he tilted his head, his eyes caught the stairs Peter disappeared down a while ago. "We’re still on for building that dog house tonight?"

  I let out a sigh as I took a moment to think about the future. I skidded past tonight and thought of tomorrow. Overwhelmed, I said, "Man, I don't even know what I'm going to do with this kid. I’ve gotta figure out a babysitter for when I'm at work."

  "Dude. Charlotte. She has kids and is watching them all day, every day since Dylan started making a killing online with his wooden carved birds."

  Serenah w
alked into the room. "I would watch him, but I'm having people in and out of here all the time. Right now, I just swaddle Isabelle and she rolls with me as I clean and change the bedding. Charlotte would be a great idea. I’ll give her a call for you."

  Appreciation and relief swelled inside me. These people were truly good, people I could call real friends. "Awesome." Turning back to Charlie, I said, "Yeah. Let's work on that dog house tonight."

  "Cool. I bet we can get it done this evening."

  **

  That afternoon, back at my house, I flipped on the TV and decided to catch a rerun of an old Baseball game of the Yankees on ESPN Classic. Peter was in the guest bedroom I had set up for him with a pile of magazines.

  A half hour into the game, Peter came out from his room and into the living room. His shoulders sagged and grief weighed in his face, dragging nothing but a hopeless frown. I paused the game and caught his eyes as he lifted them and looked at me. “Why’d my mom leave me?”

  A heartbreaking moment, and it was right then that I knew we needed to have a serious conversation. Setting the remote down, I scooted over on the couch and patted the cushion beside me. “Come have a seat, Sport.”

  He came over and sat down, and folding his hands, he let them rest in his lap.

  My initial thought was to call his mother dumb and a bad mother, but I didn’t say that. It wouldn’t help matters or make Peter feel any better about the situation we were in. Instead, I gently placed my hand on his shoulder and shook my head. “Sometimes, parents need a break. Everything is going to be okay.”

  His eyes lifted to meet mine, and his shoulder relaxed out of the slump. “You seem pretty nice.”

  I nodded. “I like to think I am.” Releasing my hand from his shoulder, I peered over at the TV and then back at the kid. “You like baseball?”

  Grinning, he said, “I do. My favorite team is the Yankees.”

  Maybe he was my kid after all. Turning back to the TV, I said, “You want to watch it with me?”