by David Bell
The morning sun leaked through the blinds.
Jared came awake, blinking his eyes against the light.
He held Natalie’s body tight against his own, her breathing soft and even. Their clothes lay in a pile on the floor, and Jared realized he still wore the limp, wet condom. He made a mental note to thank Mike for giving him a couple when he first started spending time with Natalie along with the advice “Better safe than sorry.” Jared never dreamed he’d actually get to use them.
He stared at the ceiling. Natalie had shown him the way, guiding him through everything with patience and understanding. Once they started, Jared understood that certain instincts just took over. People had been performing the act for . . . however long there’d been people. He felt a momentary ease, lying there in the bed, a sense of amazement unlike anything else he’d ever experienced.
Natalie snuggled closer. Her eyes came open as she rubbed her hand over his pale, bony chest. Very little hair, and even fewer muscles. He knew he didn’t look like anyone on TV or in the movies, and it didn’t matter.
“Are you okay?” Natalie asked. “Go back to sleep.”
“I have to go to the bathroom.”
“Mmmm.”
He couldn’t tell if she was still awake. “You know, I’ll see you wherever you are. I promise.”
“I know.”
“I can travel at school breaks and stuff.”
“Sure.”
“Hey,” Jared said. “I have something for you.”
He went over to his desk, trying not to feel self-conscious of his bare butt, and opened the top drawer. He came back to bed and handed a photograph to Natalie.
“I found that in the house when I went in looking for you,” he said. “I thought you’d want it.”
Natalie held the photo, her eyes filling with tears. She lifted her hand to her mouth and just stared at the image of her mother. Then she leaned over and threw her arms around Jared’s neck, pulling him tight.
“That’s the sweetest thing,” she said. “This is my favorite picture of her.”
She held on to him. And he let himself be held. The sex had felt better than he could have imagined. And so did the tight embrace.
“She looks just like you,” he said.
“Everybody says that.”
They held each other for a while. When they let go, Natalie kept glancing at the photo, the tears wiped from her face.
Jared finally asked the question that had been on his mind. “Do you think my mom heard us?” he asked.
“No. And I don’t think she’d care. She practically let us sleep together.”
“That’s true.”
Jared tried not to think too much about his mom while he lay in bed with his naked girlfriend just after losing his virginity, but thoughts of her came through again. He knew she wouldn’t have turned a blind eye to them sleeping together under just any circumstances. But she understood the world, she understood how difficult things had been for Natalie. Given what had happened to Celia, his mom probably understood better than just about anybody alive.
Life is short. Time is short. You never know.
“What about Detective Poole?” Jared asked. “She’s a cop. She hears everything.”
“She probably ignored it.” Natalie looked at the clock. “My escorts from the foster system haven’t shown up yet. Maybe they believe in young love too. It is almost Valentine’s Day.”
“How romantic,” he said. “I’ll be right back.”
He took care of the condom and then pulled on shorts and a T-shirt. Natalie tugged the covers higher up on her body and said, “Don’t be gone long.”
“Do you want me to stay?” he asked.
“I want you to pee if you have to. But do it quickly. I’m not crazy about being alone.”
Jared bent down and kissed her on the forehead. He eased the door open and stepped softly toward the end of the hall. He stuck his head around the doorframe. Detective Poole sat in a chair, reading a magazine. She looked up.
“Hey, tiger,” she said.
“Hey.”
“Can’t sleep?” she asked.
“Bathroom trip.”
The detective nodded, a small smile on her face. “I understand.” She looked at her watch. “The child welfare folks are backed up. You probably have another hour together.”
“Thanks. You look tired.”
“I’m no spring chicken. But I can sit a watch with the best of them. Even now.” She tossed the magazine aside. “Go on. Time’s wasting.”
“Thanks.” Before he went in the bathroom, he moved over toward his mom’s closed bedroom door, pressing his ear against it. He didn’t hear anything. Satisfied, he went back to the bathroom and stepped in.
While he peed, he tried to maintain the sense of euphoria the sex brought on but found it slipping away. True—Natalie was safe. That was the only thing that mattered. She was safe and away from her father. Even in foster care or whatever system they’d place her in, she’d be safer there than out on the road with a maniac. But she’d be going anytime, maybe forever. He felt the hole in his heart growing and spreading like a crater.
He flushed and then washed his hands. He paused for a moment before the mirror and studied himself. His hair stood up and his eyes looked puffy and tired. Other than that, no real differences. Would people at school see he’d lost his virginity? Would Mike and Syd know when he sat down at the lunch table on Monday morning? If they didn’t, he would tell them. Maybe not right away, but eventually he’d tell them.
He reached for the knob. He heard a noise in the hallway. He pulled the door open, the adrenaline shooting through his body like ice water. He stood in the hallway listening, and then moved back to his bedroom. The door was shut. He could have sworn he’d left it cracked when he went to the bathroom. He pushed in. The bed was empty, the clothes gone from the floor.
Jared spun, and he saw Detective Poole at the end of the hallway.
“She’s in the kitchen, Romeo. Getting a glass of water. I’m using the little girl’s room if you don’t mind.”
“Sure.”
Jared went to the end of the hallway, scratching himself absently as he went. He had decided to turn around and wait back in bed when he heard the thump from the back of the house.
He waited. Head cocked.
He heard it again. And something like a muffled cry.
“Natalie?”
He ran for the kitchen and the source of the noise. When he entered he saw Natalie’s dad, William Rose, and he held Natalie by the arm, trying to drag her through the back door and out of the house.
CHAPTER SEVENTY-THREE
William Rose stood in the doorway, his hand clamped around Natalie’s arm. Jared saw the brute force exerted through the man’s hands as he squeezed her flesh. He saw the ugly, offending lips that sneered his way.
“She’s my daughter, and we’ll be leaving now,” he said.
Jared spoke with the simplest clarity. “No.”
His heart pounded and his hands shook. He felt a strange, jangling electricity in every part of his body, something that compelled him to move forward into the kitchen, his steps cautious and catlike.
Natalie looked more resigned than scared. Tears covered her pale face, but she seemed in control of her emotions. She wasn’t pulling against her father or fighting him. She didn’t scream.
“It’s okay, Jared,” she said. “I’ll just go with him.”
“No,” Jared said again, moving closer.
“Stop right there,” her father said, holding out his free hand. It was meaty and thick, like a fat holiday ham stuck on the end of his arm. His voice sounded like ground glass. “You’re going to get hurt, boy. If you don’t step off, you’re going to get hurt real bad.”
Jared heard someone behind him. He didn’t turn
, didn’t take his eyes off Natalie and her father, but he knew Detective Poole and his mom had arrived and stood in the doorway. He heard his mother gasp, heard her breathing grow heavier as she watched the spectacle unfold.
Detective Poole spoke into a radio, requesting—demanding—backup. “We have a hostage situation.”
Jared kept moving forward. He stood ten feet away from them. If he lunged forward, moving as quickly as possible, he could be on the man. He was about to when Natalie’s voice stopped him.
“I’ll go,” she said again. “Just let me go. No one else will get hurt.”
“Jared,” his mom said. “Get back. Let the police handle it.”
William Rose stood in the doorway into the backyard. He gave one more tug, pulling Natalie with him. But then Natalie gripped the door. She locked eyes with Jared.
Detective Poole came up next to Jared. She had her gun drawn. The overhead lights reflected off the black metal barrel.
“She’s right. Get back.” Poole’s face looked determined, steely. A far cry from her usual grandmotherly appearance. Jared didn’t doubt that she could—and would—use the gun. “Sir,” she said to William Rose, “let the girl go.”
“She’s my daughter.”
“Let her go and get down on the floor. We don’t want anyone to get hurt.”
“Jared, back up,” his mom said.
“Sir, get down.”
“I love you,” Natalie said.
Jared sprang forward. He led with his right hand and clamped it up and under William’s chin, grabbing hold of his thick, fleshy neck. He felt his nails sink into the soft skin, and he squeezed as hard as he could, the muscles and tendons in his fingers and forearms straining to their breaking points.
Something hit him once and then twice in the side of the body. William Rose’s fist swung wildly, smashing against Jared, blows he couldn’t feel in the heat of the moment. The fist swung a third time, connecting with the side of Jared’s head, knocking him off balance and causing bells to ring deep inside his skull.
But he saw Natalie pull free.
She made a quick dash to her left, breaking loose from her dad’s grip.
William was then free to use both of his hands on Jared, and he did. He came forward while Jared still held on to his neck, adding pressure as much as he could.
Detective Poole came closer. She held a small canister in her hand.
Pepper spray.
She ordered Jared back. But he couldn’t move. William Rose held him by his shirt, his grip like iron.
The blows from the meaty fists rained down on Jared. He swung his right leg up, kicking with as much force as he could generate. His first attempt missed, glancing off William’s shin. But when he tried again, he connected with flesh. Jared wasn’t sure where—either the enormous man’s groin or his gut. He didn’t care. It stopped the assault for a moment, allowed Jared to reassert his grip.
But then one more punch fell, landing against the side of his head. Brightly colored stars and whirligigs swirled before his eyes, and then his vision clouded. Before the picture faded, something flashed behind William Rose.
A quick, blurring movement. Something swinging once and then again. William’s eyelids grew wide and then fluttered, and he fell forward while Jared jumped back, avoiding the falling body like a lumberjack ducking a large tree.
William Rose hit the floor, his eyes closed. He groaned, reaching for the back of his head, where blood was visible.
Jared looked to the open doorway, expecting to see the police. Instead he saw Rick Stearns, Domino55, the old guy who had come to see his mom. He stood there holding a thick branch like a baseball bat, and he posed like a triumphant hunter over his prey.
“I got him,” he said.
When William Rose stirred, as though he was about to stand up, Rick lifted the branch higher, ready to swing again.
“Hold it,” Natalie said. “Hold it.” She held her hand out, protecting him, and Rick stopped.
Detective Poole moved in. She pulled out a set of handcuffs and worked them over the man’s wrists. She snapped them closed and then straightened, the pepper spray and the gun out of sight as quickly as they had appeared.
“I hear a siren,” his mom said.
Within moments, the police were inside the house, swarming over the kitchen like uniformed ants.
• • •
Jared had never seen so many cops.
Some of them dragged William Rose out of the house while he continued to groan about the injury to his head. Different cops spoke to Natalie, Jared, Rick, and his mom. Paramedics hovered around as well, checking them all out. Jared told them he was fine, even though his side and his head started to hurt, dull aches from the blows William Rose had showered him with. He didn’t care. He sat close to Natalie, their bodies touching.
Detective Poole drank a glass of water. And then another. She said to Jared, “I thought he had you in the last round, but you hung in there.”
The paramedics paid a lot of attention to Rick Stearns. He sat at the kitchen table, drinking a glass of water someone brought him. Jared’s mom stood close by him while they checked his blood pressure and heart rate.
“I came by the house to say good-bye,” he said. “I was on my way out of town, and I wanted to thank you for listening to me.” He smiled up at Jared’s mom, but it looked as though it cost him some effort. Sweat beaded on his forehead, and his face looked pale and ashen. “I saw that guy creeping around like he wanted to come in. I recognized him from the TV and the Web. I really did. I knew who he was, so I dialed the police. They weren’t far.”
“That’s why they got here so fast,” Jenna said.
“He worked his way in the back door,” Rick said. “Jimmied it or something. So I watched. Then I saw him coming back out with the girl. I heard the talking and the fighting. I figured he meant to hurt you or your son. I found that log out in the yard. I played some ball in high school. I knew what I was doing when I swung.”
“Do you have a history of high blood pressure?” one of the paramedics, a woman with brown hair pulled into a tight bun, asked.
“I do. I had a small stroke, a TIA they called it, two years ago.”
“His pressure’s sky-high,” she said. “We’re taking you to the hospital, Mr. Stearns.”
“No, no,” he said. “I don’t want to miss anything.”
“If you don’t go to the hospital, you’re going to miss everything,” she said.
“You should go, Rick,” his mom said, placing her hand on Rick’s arm. “You’ve done more than enough for one night. You saved us.”
He smiled but still looked ill. “Thanks, Jenna. I guess I’m kind of a hero.”
“You are,” she said. “Wait until they hear about this on the Dealey Society page.”
They brought a gurney in for Rick, and he protested a little as he climbed on board. While they wheeled him out the front door, he said to Jared’s mom, “I wanted to tell you something else.”
The paramedic shushed him.
“No,” he said. “Wait.”
“We can talk later, Rick. I’ll visit you.”
“No.”
They stopped the gurney, and he sat up a little straighter and called to Jenna.
“I told you ‘Teddy Bear’ was online,” he said. “It’s not Teddy Bear. It’s ‘Little Bear.’ Little Bear’s been talking to me. She’s the one who pushed me to think that picture really was of Celia.”
Then they wheeled him out.
CHAPTER SEVENTY-FOUR
Jenna made sure Jared was okay. The social worker had finally taken Natalie away, after a painful good-bye, and he was alone in his room.
“I have to go somewhere,” she said, standing in the doorway of his room, “but I’m not going if you don’t want me to.”
He sat on his bed,
his eyes staring at the floor. He looked tired and worn-out.
“You know what,” she said, “forget it. I’m not leaving you here.”
“What are you doing now?” he asked.
She didn’t want to tell him, didn’t want to dig into all of it in case she was wrong. She hoped she was wrong.
She feared she was right. And if she was . . . “It’s just—it’s private. Personal.”
He looked up then, a strange curiosity on his face. “Like a date?”
“Not a date. I can tell you all about it another time. Why don’t you come with me?”
“No, thanks. I’m tired.”
“But I can’t leave you here—”
“They just caught the bad guy, remember? And if you try to get Grandma to babysit me, I’ll scream.”
“Are you sure you’re okay here?”
“Mom, how many times in my life are you going to ask me that question?”
She hated the jaded tone in his voice. She knew he’d been through a lot, but she didn’t want to think his soul was growing disenchanted with the world. He flopped back on the bed, closing his eyes.
“I’m okay, Mom,” he said. “Lock the door behind you and I’ll be fine. They arrested him. About fifty cops dragged the guy away. It’s over.” He rolled over and spoke into his pillow, his voice muffled. “They took Natalie away too. Remember? It’s all over.”
His words pierced her heart.
But she really needed to go.
“I’ve got my phone,” she said.
She drove to Ian’s house.
• • •
On the way, Jenna’s phone rang. Her mother.
She considered not answering, letting it go to voice mail. She didn’t need another lecture or scolding. But something in Jenna didn’t allow her to just ignore her mother.
What if it’s an emergency? What if she needs me?
So she answered.
“Jenna? I want to talk to you about that TV show last night.”
“I don’t have time, Mom. I know it was awful.”
“Awful’s not the word for the way you were treated.” Her mother sounded breathless. “It was . . . abysmal.”