Diamond Lake Series: Complete Series (Bks 1-7) Boxset
Page 61
Wiping tears from her cheeks, I saw a gentleness shine in through her eyes. My heart pounded with a warmth I hadn't felt before. Rising to our feet, I held her in my arms, letting her head rest against my chest. Her sweet scent of flowery perfume wrapped itself around my nose, creating a sense inside me that I wasn't alone in the pain that the world offered. Holding her in my arms that evening, a certainty drifted into me that she was the one. Peering up at the ceiling, I thanked God.
Chapter 12
PUSHING OPEN THE GUEST BEDROOM door Tuesday morning, a strange smell permeated the air. A few quick glances across the landscape of the room made it clear that the smell was coming from the dirty clothing, and it made a thought surface. He hasn't showered the whole time he's been here. Checking the time on my watch, I saw we still had roughly an hour until he had to be at school. Continuing into the room, I stepped over a shirt, a pair of jeans, and a leftover piece of pizza.
"Peter," I said firmly, but with a gentleness about it.
He rolled over and pulled the comforter over his head, letting out a groan. My boy was growing more comfortable by the day, and it brought a smile to my face. Coming closer to the bed, I pulled the blanket away from him. He must have removed his shirt sometime during the night as his skin was bare. Spotting a long scar stretched across the little boy's back, I cringed. A twinge of uneasiness filled me as I thought about somebody hurting him, most likely Anthony hurting him. Kneeling down beside his bed as he flipped over to hide his back from me, I shook my head. "Who did that to you, Peter?"
He looked away.
"Hey." Reaching out, I softly grabbed his hand that was up near his head and pulled it to me. "It's okay."
His eyes found mine and welled with tears that disjointed my soul.
"Was it Anthony?" I asked.
He turned away, this time rolling over to face the wall opposite me. He pulled the comforter back over his painful memories. I realized right then that this kid was more than just the smiles and fun I had seen written across his face at Silverwood and out on the baseball field. He was a wounded soul, a broken heart left behind.
Taking a seat on the bed, I placed a hand on the comforter that was pulled up over his shoulder. "I'm never going to let anyone hurt you again, Peter."
He turned over and sat up, tears rolling down his face. Wiping his eyes, he looked at me but said not a word. He didn't have to. I saw the hope he had in my words. It lit his eyes up. Leaning in, I hugged him.
**
After dropping Peter off at school that morning—clean and showered—I headed down to Dixie's Diner to meet up with Ponce for a cup of coffee before the meeting with the judge. Ponce had some new information on the missing bell case and wanted to grab breakfast and discuss it. Being the sucker I am for breakfast food, I took him up on the offer without hesitation. I ordered the same thing I did every time I went there for breakfast, the Manager's Special that came with bacon, eggs, toast, and hash browns. Simple, but delightful. Enjoying a home-cooked meal was one of those things that made me long to settle down and find a woman I could share my life with. It made me think of that because my father taught me growing up that all I had to do was to find a woman who could cook, and the rest, God could take care of.
Ponce finished his last bite of food and wiped his mouth with a napkin, then proceeded to grab a blue file folder beside him in the booth and hand it across the table to me.
Bringing it in front of me, I flipped it open and immediately saw a picture of Jeremy Fisher. He was unloading the bell from the back of his pickup truck with a few other teenagers. It was Jeremy, there was no denying it. My eyebrows shot up and I shook my head in disbelief. "How?"
"Look at the time stamp on the corner of the photo. That picture was taken just a few days ago. An unidentified source dropped it on the steps of the police station yesterday afternoon."
"Wow . . ." I broke out into a smile and looked up at Ponce. "You solved your first case."
He shrugged and laughed as he picked up the remainder of his toast on his plate and took a big ole' bite. Swallowing, he shook his head. "Solved is kind of strong wording. Someone just dropped it off in my lap."
As he took another bite into his toast, I shook my head. "Solved is solved, Ponce." Closing the folder, I handed it back to him. "Good job, kid."
He nodded. “Thanks. We already arrested the kid and are questioning him about the other kids involved. Eric, Jeremy’s father, turned out to not be involved.”
Raising an eyebrow, I was surprised about Eric. My phone rang, interrupting our conversation. Slipping it from my pocket, I glanced at the screen with furrowed eyebrows—an unknown number.
"Jenkins," I answered. Catching sight of the waitress, I motioned her over with a wave of my hand.
"Hi." An older woman's voice came on the line. I didn't recognize it. "I just wanted to let you know that your fiancée forgot to sign on her way out."
"What?" I asked, confused. Pulling the phone back from my ear, I checked the number again. Nothing came to mind. I returned the phone to my ear.
"Your fiancée, Mrs. Larson? She picked up your son and—"
My heartbeat quickened and I launched to my feet. The waitress arrived over to the table with the tab. I took it from her and turned away to respond to the lady on the other end of the line. "I told you that nobody was authorized to check my son out of school!"
The elderly woman on the other end of the line paused. When her voice sounded again, it shook as she spoke. "Oh, dear . . . that's right. It must have been the new girl."
"Are they still there? In the parking lot?" I asked as I pulled a twenty out of my wallet and set it back on the table. My eyes collided with Ponce and he knew something was amiss. He shook his head and leaned across the table, eager to know what was going on.
The sound of blinds being drawn echoed through the phone, followed by a long sigh by the office lady. "I don't see them . . ."
"How long ago did they leave?"
"Just five or so minutes."
"Thanks."
Leaving the diner, I hurried to my cruiser parked along the curb outside and got in. Ponce came out of the diner shortly after I turned the key over. I rolled my window down. "Could you head to the east side and put out an APB? Brunette woman, blue eyes, with a seven-year-old boy, dirty blond hair."
Ponce's countenance dropped, and so did mine. We both knew she wasn't breaking any laws, at least not at the moment. The judge hadn't granted me custody of Peter yet, and that meant the mother, the one who had technically been taking care of Peter for the last seven years, had all the rights and I was left with none. My stomach back flipped over my heart at the realization I'd be riding solo and not able to be in my blues. No matter what, I knew I had to find Peter, no matter how long it took.
After swapping my cruiser and blues for street clothes and my car at the station, I headed back to the house. I knew I had already missed them on their way out of town so I went back to the house to find that little personal phone book I had forgotten about. If somebody in that little book could point me in the direction of Jess, I'd be one step closer to finding Peter. It was a long shot since all those numbers were from years ago, but I had to try.
Flipping through the pages and calling every number I recognized a name for, I found nothing but dead ends. Hope and time were dwindling like sand through an hourglass.
There on the last page was a number for Jess's best friend in college—Kylie. A last option in more ways than one. The woman loathed me from the moment she set eyes on me in the mess hall. Jess had informed me that her friend was jealous of the time we were spending together after we met. Still in my mind, I could hear Kylie saying, 'you two will never make it.'
The phone rang, a hopeful sign as most of the others were disconnected or no longer in use.
"Hello?" A woman's voice picked up on the other end.
"Kylie?" I asked.
"Who is this?"
"Brody. Brody Jenkins. Is this Kylie?"
I tried my best to play along with the cliché conversation, but I didn't make it long. "Yeah, it sure has. Hey, look. Do you know how to get ahold of Jess?"
"Jessica Larson? We reconnected about a year ago and I hung out with her over at Palisades Apartment Complex over on Fifth Street. After that one visit, I swore never to see her again. Why? You trying to win her back, Brodster?"
I laughed. "No. She has something I need."
"Peter?" she asked.
His name on her lips was like a dagger through the heart—painful. I don't know if it was the fact that she knew about my kid and I felt she should have found me and told me about him or if it was just the fact that she said his name. Curtly, I replied, "Yes."
"Don't get mad at me, Brody. I'm not the one who hid him from you. I know she spends a lot of time at those apartments because that's where her boyfriend lives."
"Anthony?"
A long pause. "No. They were broken up at the time. I think it was Keith? Let me see if I have the apartment number. Hold on." Hearing her do something on her phone, she returned a minute later. "Apartment number 652. Found it in my messages. Also, looks like she just posted a picture of her and Peter on her Facebook. He looks happy."
My jaw clenched. "What are you insinuating? That I shouldn't go find them? Find him?"
"No. I was just letting you know in case you were worried about him being hurt." She let out a laugh. "You always assume. That's why I never liked you."
"Sorry." Standing up, I grabbed the pen and jotted down the complex name and apartment number into the last page of the phone book. "Thank you for your help, Kylie."
"No problem. I wish you the best."
It took an hour and a half to get to the apartment complex down on Fifth. Giving the door a few quick knocks, I stepped back as anxiety threatened to close my throat fully. The sound of sirens in the distance made an onslaught of uneasiness settle across my mind and rattle my nerves throughout. These were the types of places she was taking Peter? These neighborhoods weren't good for a child or an adult. I had heard stories about this very complex from some of the police officers in Spokane. A murder, a few rapes and even a drug bust, all too recently. Not a place for a child.
The door opened. A man with dreads and heavy eyelids stood in the doorframe, taking up the majority of the space. The smell of marijuana drifted from beyond the door, and darkness lay behind the burly man.
"Is Jessica Larson here?"
"Who?" the man asked, adjusting his footing as he pushed his dreads behind his shoulders.
"Jess. Jessica Larson."
"No, man. J's not here. We didn't work out . . . she went back to Anthony. That scumbag." The door began to shut, but I caught it with a hand.
"Please tell me where he lives or where I can find her." My eyes pleaded along with my words. This man who looks as if he could crush my skull with a single squeeze was my only hope in finding Peter.
Shaking his head, he tilted it. "You smell like a cop."
"Look, I don't want any trouble. She has my son."
"Little man is your kid?" The guy broke into a smile as he must have recalled something. "Hold up." He shut the door and returned a moment later. "Here's the address. We never talked." He handed me a ripped piece of paper with the address scribbled on it: 4401 Hayden Lane.
Turning, I left down the stairwell back toward the parking lot.
"Hey."
Stopping, I looked back up the stairs and saw the man up at the top. "Yeah?"
"Be careful. That Anthony guy is no good. I'd never set foot over there if I were you."
"He's my son."
The man nodded and pushed his dreads over his shoulder. "Good luck to you."
Pulling up along the curb at 4401 Hayden Lane, I was startled by the exquisite houses that lined the cul-de-sac. Three- and four-story homes stood on each plot of land, each with dotted lights illuminating walkways, and a few even had fountains gushing with water. It was difficult to stay worried and nervous in a neighborhood like this, but all I had to do was think about the bruises on Jess's neck and the scar along Peter's back. Getting out of my car, I headed up the large stretched driveway and veered onto the walkway up to the door.
Nobody answered.
Leaning, I tried to see through the frosted glass, but I couldn't see anything other than a few shades of white lights and tints of beige.
Defeated, I walked back to my car and waited. After hours had passed with nobody showing up at the house, I attempted to get some shuteye. The car was too uncomfortable, and though my worry for Peter was great, I turned the key over and left, going back to Newport in the hopes of trying again tomorrow.
Chapter 13
I TRIED TO SLEEP THAT night, but I couldn't. Rising at one o'clock, I went down the hallway toward the kitchen. Pausing at the guest room, I turned and pressed my fingers against the door, letting it swing open. The moonlight illuminated the room, and there in the midst of the wadded blankets sat the red shirt I had bought for Peter. Willing my feet, I went into the room. As I passed through the doorway, fears swarmed my thoughts and filled my heart with sorrow.
Sitting down on his bed, I pulled the shirt into my lap and smoothed the sleeve with a thumb as I thought about our trip to the mall. The absence of Peter was more than I could bear. Just as quickly as he came into my life, he was gone. His mother took him from me, stole him away while I was busy working. She didn't care enough about Peter to consider anything other than herself. My eyes watered, sending tears trickling down my cheeks and falling off onto the shirt.
The scar on his back. He was back with that man who had hurt him. My jaw clenched and my anger boiled up inside me.
A whisper echoed through my heart and mind, and a reminder of Isaiah 41:10 pressed against me.
So do not fear, for I am with you;
do not be dismayed, for I am your God.
I will strengthen you and help you;
I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.
Slipping off the bed, I dropped to my knees on the floor of the guest room and called out to God. "Help me, Lord. I don’t want to fear, but I cannot help but fear in this moment." My eyes drifted to a pair of Peter's jeans on the floor. The sight of them stung, clenching my throat shut. Pushing, I said, "Father, God, he's just a kid. Please . . ." My lips trembled in the moonlight, and at the uttermost end of my strength, I suddenly came into a calmness. My lips trembled no more, and it was if God himself had wrapped His arms around me, ushering in a comfort to my soul. Though I longed to see Peter, though I loved Peter, though I wanted him to be back home with me, I knew God was in control.
Lying down on the floor, I pulled my knees to my chest and fell into a deep sleep.
**
That morning, I spent my time digging through police reports and any scrap of information I could find online. If I was going to break down a door in a fancy neighborhood and risk my badge breaking the law, I’d better make sure it's the right house.
Luckily for me, Anthony had a past—a rap sheet that included multiple assaults and batteries and even a few reports out to his house. I was even able to track down where he worked and found out he was out of town last night, but he would be home after seven tonight, according to his receptionist over at the Global Marketing Firm.
With still a couple of hours to go before I could head back over to the house on Hayden, I headed out to my car to go visit Esther. She was feeling awful for me and invited me over for dinner. As I unlocked my car, Charlie pulled into the driveway.
Right then, it hit me that we were supposed to work on the dog house last night. "I totally spaced about the dog house," I said, approaching him as he got out of his car.
He nodded and met me in the driveway. Shaking his head, he said, "What's going on? You look like a mess." A glance past me indicated he didn't know yet.
"She took him."
> Charlie's eyebrows lifted and hurt for me reflected in his eyes. "Man, I am so sorry. So you didn't get a chance to see the judge?"
My lips pressed together and I shook my head a few quick jerks. "No. I was set to meet with him yesterday morning and she snagged him beforehand. I phoned the judge, and he said we needed to set up a custody arrangement."
Charlie's jaw clenched. "That's jacked, man." He pointed to the house behind me and said, "You’re a good influence. He should be with you."
"Unfortunately, that doesn't matter in this situation . . ." My voice softened. Catching Charlie's eyes, I rested a hand on his shoulder. "I know where he's going to be this evening. I'm going to get him."
Raising an eyebrow, Charlie asked, "You need some backup? I'm no cop, but I own a few guns. I've shot a deer, man. I'll help you."
"Come on. I'm not killing anyone. I'll be okay. This is my deal. I'll take care of it."
Charlie relaxed, his eyes gliding toward the gate that led to the backyard. "I finished the dog house. I'm going to load it up and take it over to Charlotte."
"Awe, man. I'm sorry I wasn't around last night when—"
Charlie raised a hand, cutting me off. "Don't worry about it. Honestly."
"Thanks." Checking my watch, I said, "I have to get going, but I'll let you know what happens."
"Take care of yourself and don't be afraid to call your Spokane cop buddies if need be."
"I will, and thank you for the advice." Smiling, I turned and headed back to my car to head over to Esther’s house.
The smell of cornbread and chili filled the air of the house when I was let in by Shawn. My pain over losing Peter eased as a familiarity of home cooking filled my senses. Closing the door behind me, I bent at the knees and asked the boy, "Your momma make some good chili?"
Beaming, the little boy nodded and scurried off upstairs to the bedrooms. When I rose to my feet, I saw Esther standing in the doorway to the kitchen like a super model—gorgeous. She had on a blue apron with white polka dots, and a white ribbon held her hair up in a bun. Though I was distraught over my son, I was still able to appreciate the beauty of Esther in the moment. Crossing the distance of the floor separating us, I came right up to her and let a hand slide along her waist and to her back, resting on her back.