“I have to pee!” Mackenzie called back.
“Oh boy, wait until Alex realizes you have that hearing,” Cassidy laughed. She picked up Mackenzie’s backpack and hung it in the foyer closet. Cassidy stretched her neck and rolled it side to side. It had been a long day—one that she had enjoyed immensely, nevertheless—long. Being surrounded by a horde of seven-year-olds could exhaust anyone. Organized chaos; that was Cassidy’s specialty. She giggled at the thought when Connor’s voice bellowed loud enough to filter through the house.
“Boo!” Connor screamed in the distance.
“I’m not sure I want to know,” Cassidy mused as she made her way to the back door. She was about to step through when she heard Dylan’s voice speaking softly to Maggie. Eavesdropping was not something Cassidy engaged in. She felt paralyzed by his words. Unable to pull herself away, she hovered just inside the kitchen and listened.
***
Dylan laughed at his brother and sister as they ran around the backyard. “No wonder Mom is tired at night,” he observed.
“They do have a lot of energy,” Dylan’s girlfriend, Maggie agreed.
“Well, hopefully, they will be tired when she gets back with Kenz.”
“Are you worried about your mom?” Maggie asked.
“No, not really. I just think there’s something she hasn’t told us yet.”
“Like what?”
“I think there might be someone else coming to live here.”
“Who? You think one of your grandparents is moving in?”
Dylan laughed. “No, I think this one will be a little younger,” he said. Maggie was confused. “I think Mom is pregnant,” he said.
“What? Seriously?”
“Yeah.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. She has that look.”
“She gets a look?”
Dylan smiled. “Yeah. I remember when she was expecting Connor and Abby. She was always smiling—well, except those few weeks when she was puking.”
Maggie shuddered. “Why wouldn’t she tell you?”
Dylan sighed. “A few years ago, Mom miscarried. It happened right after she told us that they were expecting. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen her so sad,” Dylan explained.
“That’s awful.”
“Yeah, it was. I think they are probably being cautious,” he said.
“What do you think about it?” Maggie asked.
“About what?”
“About having another brother or sister? I mean—wow. You’ll be like eighteen years older.”
“Close,” he agreed.
“Does that bother you?” she wondered.
“Only that I won’t be here so much,” he replied honestly. “I’ll miss them.”
Maggie clasped Dylan’s hand. Connor was hiding under a lawn chair. Abby was searching for him and beginning to get frustrated. “She looks just like Alex,” Maggie laughed as she watched Abby’s face grow pensive. “But, that expression?” Maggie shook her head. “That looks just like you when you are worried.”
Dylan chuckled. “YaYa always says that we get certain things from our parents. I guess that's true. Like Mom, she loves teaching, so did Grandma. Alex and Uncle Pip? They're a lot alike—just like Kenzie," he laughed. "She'll probably grow up to rule the world. She's a lot like Alex."
"Does it bother you?" Maggie wondered.
"You mean that I’m not related to Alex? It did at first, I guess. I mean they're all kind of like Alex; you know? Just like I'm like Mom and my father too. Kind of made me feel strange sometimes."
"Did your parents tell you? I mean, who their father is?"
Dylan shook his head. "They didn't have to," he chuckled. "Just like I already knew when Mom sat me down to tell me about mine. People look so hard they don't see what's in front of them sometimes."
"So, you do know."
"Yeah, but it doesn't matter, Maggie."
"It would matter to me."
Dylan shrugged. "Maybe. You aren't us. This isn't the family you have. Alex is our mom. Alex is my mom. I guess I have always felt that's the way it was supposed to be. I might not look like her, but I don't want any other parents than the two I have. Biology is biology. It doesn't necessarily make someone family."
Maggie considered Dylan's words. "Do you wish you'd known him?"
"My father?" Dylan asked. Maggie nodded. Dylan smiled. "I did—sort of. And, I feel like I do. Alex has told me so many stories, and so have Alexandra and Steph. But..."
"But what?"
"My Aunt Jane talked to me not long after Mom sat me down to tell me who my dad really was. She told me that my father was happy for Mom and Alex; happy that they had found each other. To tell you the truth, I think he and Mom had more than me in common."
"Like what?"
"I'm pretty sure he was in love with Alex—like for a long time."
"Mrs. Merrow told you that?"
"Nah. Aunt Jane wouldn’t tell me that. Like I said, some things you can see if you don't look so hard."
"You know that doesn't make sense, right?" Maggie joked.
Dylan shrugged. "Yeah, it does. It's like you asking me all these questions; thinking they're my questions," he said. "I don't really think about any of this. Everybody else worries about it more."
"I guess it’s just hard for me to understand."
Dylan laughed. "I'm not sure you need to understand. I sort of feel like Mom—well, like we were just waiting for Alex. I just know once she came, everything changed."
"Yeah, I would bet finding out your mom was gay was a shock."
Dylan laughed raucously. "Sorry. I was six. I didn't even think about it until Mom and Alex explained it."
"Really?"
"Think Kenzie's brain," he tried to explain. "On second thought, don't," he joked. Dylan grew quiet for a moment. He smiled and looked back at his girlfriend. "Mom laughed with Alex. She still laughs with Alex. Alex was there. I mean, it never mattered. No matter how much work she had or even when Kenzie came; Alex was always there. Every soccer game, anything that mattered she has been there. If she was away? She'd call. I don't ever remember it being different."
"You're worried what she'll say about the academy," Maggie observed.
"I don't ever want to disappoint her," Dylan replied honestly. "She’s never disappointed me."
Cassidy closed her eyes and bit her lip gently. She wiped away a tear as it fell over her cheek. "Oh, Dylan," she whispered. "If only you knew how impossible that would be."
***
“Mr. and Mrs. Peters,” Dave Siminski greeted the couple. “This is Alex Toles,” he explained. “She’s been assisting me with your daughter’s case.”
Don Peters extended his hand and offered the pair a seat. He took a deep breath and looked Siminski in the eye. “Tell us.”
Siminski squared his shoulders. “I’m sorry,” he began. “A girl matching Kaylee’s description was found earlier today in New York.”
“Was it her?”
“Yes, Sir, I believe so. But, we will need you to make the final identification. I will be happy to escort you,” he said.
Jan Peters erupted in a wave of uncontrollable sobs and fell into her husband’s embrace.
“Do you know?” Don Peters asked. “Do you know…”
Alex sensed Siminski’s hesitation. She had developed a belief that honesty was the best policy when dealing with a victim’s family. She stepped in.
“I think that some of your questions will be best answered by the medical examiner,” she said as gently as she could. “Kaylee’s injuries were extensive.”
There was no way to soften the blow. Alex hated it, but there were no words, no tone of voice, and no tactic that could ever make the horrific news that a child had been brutally murdered more palatable—none. She watched as Jan Peters trembled in front of her. The anguish and fury in Don Peters’ eyes made her stomach churn. She’d occupied this seat numerous times in the past. One major thing had differed then�
��Alex had not been a parent. Pain that she had once thought she understood took on new meaning for her. She struggled to remain the investigator in the chair; her parental protectiveness reared its head as Don Peters held her gaze firmly.
“Who would do this?” Jan Peters cried helplessly.
Siminski closed his eyes momentarily. He would never get used to this. “I think that you should know,” he said. “The FBI will be running point on this investigation. We will, of course, assist and cooperate in every way that we can, as will your local police department.”
“The FBI?” Don Peters questioned.
“Kaylee went missing here,” Alex began. “She was found in New York. Any time a crime is committed that crosses state lines it becomes federal jurisdiction.”
Don Peters nodded. “That’s why you’re here,” he looked directly at Alex.
“Me?”
“It’s what you do; right?” Peters asked. “I remember…”
Alex nodded. She sometimes forgot how much she and Cassidy had been in the spotlight in the past. “I’m not an agent any longer, Mr. Peters. I work with the state police now.”
“But, you’ll find him? Whoever…”
“We will do our best,” Siminski interjected.
Alex felt her stomach roiling.
Jan Peters looked at Alex. “You have children?”
“Four,” Alex said, offering the woman a smile.
“Then you understand,” Jan Peters said.
Alex stood and nodded. “I’m sorry for your loss,” she said earnestly. God damned empty words.
“Are you up to making the ride?” Siminski asked the couple.
Don Peters nodded.
“Will you accompany us?” Jan Peters looked to Alex.
Alex found it impossible to refuse and nodded. This day sucks.
CHAPTER FOUR
By the time Alex had arrived home, Cassidy had already gone to bed. Alex made her usual rounds, checking on Mackenzie and the twins. She’d found Connor sleeping in Dylan’s bed and laughed. He loved his big brother. She let him be. Dylan wouldn’t mind; she was sure of that much.
Once she felt comfortable that everyone was safe and sound, Alex made her way to the kitchen. She hadn’t eaten since morning. The truth was, she didn’t have any appetite. Nothing she did to distract herself seemed to succeed in banishing the images of Kaylee Peters. Little about the case set well with Alex. She kept trying to convince herself that it wasn’t her problem; it wasn’t her case. An eerie feeling had come over her that she couldn’t shake. It was a sensation she had not experienced in quite a few years. Darkness—that is what Alex labeled the feeling coursing through her. It was cold—colder than death. It chilled the blood in a person’s veins and left a hollow feeling in a person’s gut. Emptiness—a void—that is what Alex felt. It sent a shiver down her spine.
Alex massaged her temples and went to open the refrigerator. She smiled at the note she found awaiting her arrival that was pinned to the door by a magnet. She gently tugged on the piece of paper and unconsciously traced the image on the magnet with her hand. “Speed,” she muttered. She gazed at the picture affectionately. How old was that magnet? Alex laughed. Dylan was eight in the picture. His face was lit by a bright smile, one missing tooth in the front as he proudly held his soccer trophy. How on earth had nine years passed; Alex wondered? Seventeen—Dylan had just turned seventeen two weeks earlier. Kaylee Peters was seventeen. Alex sighed heavily and looked back at the note in her hand.
Hi Love,
It sounds like you had quite the day from your message. Please eat something. There is leftover lasagna in the fridge. There’s also some pizza that Dylan had ordered. Eat some. Please. Dylan went to Maggie’s to study. I imagine he will be home after you. Wake me up when you come to bed.
Je ’t’aime,
Cass
Alex smiled. Cassidy knew exactly where Alex would head when she got home, and she also knew what Alex would avoid. “If I don’t at least eat a piece of that pizza, she’ll ground me,” Alex chuckled. She grabbed a can of Diet Coke and opened the lid of the pizza box to retrieve a piece of pizza. Her thoughts immediately traveled back to Kaylee Peters. “How the hell did you land in New York?” Alex mused aloud. She took a bite of the pizza and washed it down with a swig of Diet Coke.
Rest was not going to come soon for Alex and she knew it. Time to pour over the statements Kaylee’s friends had given again. She made her way into the living room where she had dropped her bag and flopped onto the sofa. She set down her food and opened her bag, spreading out several files in front of her. Alex opened the first folder and met with the image of a smiling seventeen-year-old girl.
“Son of a bitch,” she muttered. She bent down to grab another file from her bag and caught a glimpse of the family photo album Cassidy kept under the table. Alex picked it up and placed it in her lap, opening the cover with a smile. She shook her head as her eyes studied the photos of Cassidy and Dylan when he was a baby. “So, beautiful,” Alex commented as her fingertip traced a picture of Cassidy holding Dylan.
Alex took a sip from the Diet Coke beside her and sighed. Her eyes strayed for a moment to Kaylee’s picture. “Fuck.” She threw her head back and closed her eyes, her fingers reaching for the bridge of her nose.
“Alex?” Dylan stepped into the room.
Alex’s mind was spinning with images of her family that inevitably morphed into Kaylee Peters. How could she walk away from this case? Alex silently argued with her conscience. How could she walk into it at all? She’d made her choice; made a promise to Cassidy—to herself. Kaylee could have been Dylan. Dylan could have been Kaylee.
“Dammit,” Alex continued her inner battle.
“Alex?” Dylan called a bit louder. He observed Alex as her temple twitched in thought. He wondered what she was concentrating on so intently that she failed to hear him calling to her. “Alex,” he tried one more time. Alex sighed, lost to her private battle. “Mom!” Dylan finally called loudly.
Alex’s eyes flew open and met with Dylan’s. “Dylan?”
Dylan smiled. “Sorry. You were deep in thought, I guess.”
Alex nodded. “Did you just get home?”
“Yeah.”
Alex regarded Dylan silently for a moment. He had grown into a handsome young man, one that looked slightly down on her despite her considerable height. He was poised and carried himself with a quiet confidence much as Cassidy did. Right now, Alex saw shadows of the six-year-old boy she had met ten years ago. Dylan was looking at his feet, shifting his weight from side to side.
“What’s up?” Alex asked.
Dylan looked up and shrugged. He nodded to the photo album in Alex’s lap. “Does it bother you that much?” he asked.
Alex was confused. “Does what bother me?”
“Me wanting to go into the Navy,” he said.
Alex let out a long sigh. Dammit, Toles, he thinks you’re upset about this trip to the academy. Alex waved him over and patted the cushion next to her. “I think we need to talk,” she said.
Dylan nodded sadly.
Alex smiled and flipped the pages back in the photo album. “See this?” she pointed to a photo.
Dylan nodded again. “That’s my seventh birthday party.”
“Yeah.”
“We had just moved in here.”
“Yeah,” Alex confirmed. “And, you were obsessed with the tree out in the front yard.”
Dylan laughed. “And the pool table downstairs,” he recalled.
“And that,” she chuckled. Alex felt herself becoming emotional. She had remained reserved in her dialogue whenever Dylan mentioned entering the military. It wasn’t because she disapproved. It was simply her protective nature. She flipped the page in the album, considering how the conversation should progress.
“You’re disappointed in me,” Dylan said.
Alex startled. She turned to Dylan and grabbed his arm tenderly. “Disappointed in you? Dylan, is that what you think?”<
br />
“I don’t know. I know that you and Mom would rather I go to a university somewhere—like Mom did.”
Alex pinched the bridge of her nose and groaned. “I’m sorry, Speed.”
“Huh?”
Alex shook her head. “That’s not true at all,” she said. “I just know what can come with enlisting,” she continued. “I know where it can lead, and I know what you might see. I don’t want you to see that,” she said honestly.
Dylan nodded. “You saw a lot.”
“I did. More than I ever wanted to—far more than I ever hope you have to.”
“Do you wish you hadn’t done it?” he asked.
Alex sighed heavily. “You mean, do I wish I’d never gone into the army?” she asked. He nodded. Alex shook her head. “No. I wouldn’t change it.”
“Even with everything that happened?”
“Even with that. I wouldn’t have you or your mom, or your brother and sisters,” Alex smiled. “I know you want to fly, Speed. I know it’s in your blood—wanting to fly, service—all of it. Your father…”
Dylan shook his head. “Maybe. Who knows? Do you know what I think of when I think about him?”
“Your father?”
“Yeah.”
“No, I don’t,” Alex confessed.
“You,” Dylan said. Alex was perplexed. “Somehow, whenever I start thinking about him, I always end up thinking about you.”
“Dylan, I…”
“No, Alex… Mom,” Dylan changed midsentence. Alex’s eyes welled up with tears. “I’d like to think he’d be proud of me.”
“He would be,” Alex assured her son.
“But he isn’t you,” Dylan said. “Maybe I should care more what he would think, but I don’t give it much thought.”
Alex listened quietly. Somehow, she understood that there was more Dylan needed to say—more he wanted to say.
“I remember the day you came home from seeing him the last time,” Dylan told her.
Alex closed her eyes as her chest tightened at the memory. The day he died.
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