by R. D. Brady
Danny met her eyes, understanding from another child of abuse. "And you needed them young."
"And I needed them young," Jen agreed simply.
Of course, none of it was that simple. She still remembered letting herself into the apartment that she had shared with her mother. She'd been in the second grade. She'd been wearing her favorite pink dress and her mom had braided her hair that morning - just like every morning.
But as soon as Jen had stepped back in the door that afternoon, she had felt the emptiness. She'd searched the apartment and nothing was missing - nothing except her Mom. And she'd known, deep down, that her mom was gone.
Jen had managed a week on her own. She got herself to school, although she hadn't been able to manage the braids. She ate what little was left in the kitchen. A neighbor finally realized what had happened and turned her in.
Jen spent the next two years in six foster homes - each home progressively worse than the last. In that last home, when she was nine, her abilities had kicked in.
Two of her foster brothers had tormented her unendingly, hitting her and locking her away when they could get away with it - which was often. The day her abilities had kicked in she had climbed the tall oak tree in the yard - hoping she could avoid them.
She hadn't - they followed her up.
She still remembered how scared she was. One of them grabbed her. Before she could even scream, he tossed her out of the tree. Her abilities were the only reason she survived. She'd run away two days later - after hospitalizing both boys.
She shook her head. No need to focus on that.
"You know, my family wasn't always very nice to me," Danny said.
Jen looked at him quietly, surprised yet again. Danny never talked about his past. She knew he was born somewhere in the Appalachia's, in a town that grew up around coal mining. A sensitive smart kid like Danny would not have had an easy time of it.
"Do you know I have three brothers?" Danny asked.
Jen shook her head. "No. I didn't know that."
Danny nodded, not meeting her eyes. "Yeah. I'm the youngest. My mom, she died when I was I five. But I remember she used to sing me to sleep. Frank Sinatra - 'I've Got You Under My Skin'."
Jen smiled, trying to remember her mother doing something that sweet. She couldn't.
Danny let out a breath and Jen stayed silent. He obviously needed to talk.
"My Dad - he thought I should be tougher - that I shouldn't waste so much time on books. I read one of Henry's articles when I was eight and wrote him. He wrote me back. A few months later he came to visit. Talked to my father about sending me to college. My father didn't want me to go, of course. He wanted me to toughen up, be a man. And what good was college going to do for a coal miner?"
Danny took a breath. "Somehow Henry convinced him. But college, it wasn't for me. I was terrified of going back home. Then Henry offered me a place here. At first, he even got a governess."
Danny rolled his eyes. "I think he was watching the 'Sound of Music' right before he came up with the idea. But soon, it was just kind of me and Henry. Once I started working for Chandler HQ, I checked up on my family. Just to see."
"And?" Jen prompted gently.
"And they get weekly deposits of 5,000 dollars."
Jen felt her mouth fall open before she recovered herself. "Danny, you know Henry-"
He waved away her words. "Trust me. I understand. It was the only way they would let me go. I'm okay with it. I'm grateful, in fact. But the reason I'm telling you this, is that Henry is my family."
Jen nodded, thinking of the Witt family who had adopted her when she was eleven, after she'd been on the streets for two years. They had taken her in and given her love. Blood didn't always determine family. "I know."
Danny took a breath and looked at her. "So I need you be careful with him, okay?"
And the surprises kept coming. Although being she spent so much time with Henry and Danny, she should have expected Danny to notice. Touched, Jen reached out and grasped his hand. "I'll be careful. I promise."
CHAPTER 4
Dewitt, NY
Maddox sat at the edge of the playground watching five-year-old Max Simmons play in a sandbox. A couple of other older kids ran around playing tag. Two more were on the swings.
None of them paid any attention to the little brown haired boy. But Max didn't seem to mind.
The park was busy. Parents were scattered around the playground chatting, but none made eye contact with Maddox or looked in his direction.
Maddox once again scanned the area looking for any threats. He didn't find any and didn't expect too. Laney had asked him to keep an eye on Kati and Max until she got back and figured out how to keep them safe. So far, he'd been with them for three months.
He had no problem with that. Laney had saved his life and taken out the bastard who'd made his life miserable for the last ten years. He'd do anything she asked.
He owed her. Big.
Besides, he thought as he watched Kati Simmons walk down the path toward him, there was something really nice about living a normal life after what he'd been through. He went food shopping, had seen a few kid's movies, and he'd even been to the beach. He shook his head. And perhaps most surprising, he'd enjoyed almost all of it.
Kati stepped next to him, handing him a cup of coffee. "You know, you're scaring away everyone who looks at you."
Maddox looked down at Kati. At six foot six, he was a full foot taller than her. She and Max shared their brown hair but where Max's eyes were blue, Kati's were brown. "What?"
Kati gave a little laugh. "You - long dark hair, black leather jacket, scowling at everyone in the park. I'm surprised no one's called the cops on you."
Maddox shrugged. "Actually, I think one lady was going to until Max came over and gave me a hug."
"So, you're saying my five-year-old saved you from being hassled by the cops?"
A grin reluctantly tugged across his face. "Guess so."
Kati's eyes drifted to Max. He'd moved onto the slide. "How's he doing?"
"Good. He's played mainly by himself or at least, with his imaginary friends."
At her look of alarm, Maddox put up his hands. "All the other kids are older. It's not a big deal and he seems pretty content. He's only looked over here a few times since we got here. No more than any other kid looked to their parents."
Kati let out a breath. "Good. That's good."
"He's okay, Kati. No ill effects."
"I know. I just -" She sighed, her gaze falling on Max again. "I just want him safe."
Maddox nodded. Kati and Max had been caught in the crossfire down in Pennsylvania a few months ago. Kati had then been caught again a short time later and had come very close to losing her life.
Kati worried the brush with violence was going to negatively affect Max. But as far as Maddox could see, there hadn't been any real side effect. It was dark when everything had happened and Max was really too young to understand.
Although Max had developed an awful lot of imaginary friends since then. But what did Maddox know? He hadn't exactly spent much time around little kids. Maybe that was normal.
But Kati was a different story. Maddox had only met her after everything, but he could tell she was terrified. But Kati wasn't scared for herself. Her fear was all for her son.
Maddox knew Kati was having trouble not surrounding Max with bubble wrap and locking him away. He tried to hide his smile. Instead, with Laney's help, she'd given him a six foot six nephilim as a bodyguard.
Maddox's phone rang. He glanced down before answering. "Hey Henry."
"Hey Maddox. How are Kati and Max doing?"
Kati indicated she was going to push Max on the swings.
Maddox nodded watching her walk away. He leaned back against the tree behind him. "Good. How are you?"
"Good, but I have a request to make of you."
Maddox groaned. "Let me guess. Clark got in touch with you."
Clark was Agent Matthe
w Clark of the Special Investigative Agency (SIA) an offshoot of the Department of Defense. He'd been hounding Maddox for months to join. While Maddox liked the idea of tracking down renegade Fallen, he wasn't ready to leave his present assignment. If he was being honest, he wasn't sure he'd ever be ready to leave it.
"Uh no. At least not this week," Henry said. "But I have a case I was hoping you could look into. It could be a Fallen."
Maddox watched a man in a blue fleece walk into the playground area, his gaze searching the children. Maddox straightened up from the tree. The man broke into a grin as a pair of boys rushed over to him.
Maddox relaxed again. "Henry, it's not that I don't want to help. I won't leave Kati and Max unprotected. And Laney and Jake are on a vacation. I really don't want to call them back from it."
Henry sighed. "I don't either."
"Is there anyone else you could send?"
Henry's voice was thoughtful. "Actually, I think there might be."
CHAPTER 5
Detroit, Michigan
Jen walked up the cement steps of the Fourteenth Precinct of the Detroit Police Department. Detroit had the honor of having four of the most dangerous neighborhoods in the United States. And the attack that had alerted Danny occurred smack dab in the middle of one of them.
Jen pushed open the double doors. The stench hit her immediately - a combination of body odor and urine. She wrinkled her nose. Lovely.
The decor didn't do much to detract from the smell. Pale green walls as far as the eye could see and a tile floor that had been all the rage in 1965.
It was a Sunday just after noon and the lobby was pretty quiet. One cop helped an old woman toward the back. She was in her nightgown and slippers. An anxious man and woman sat waiting in chairs that Jen wouldn't touch without a Hazmat suit.
Jen knew that cops weren't actually much of a deterrent to crime, but if this was what the lobby of the station looked, she was pretty sure she had no interest in seeing the holding cells. And she couldn't imagine anyone else would either.
Jen walked up to the sergeant behind the big wooden desk. His attention was directed at the newspaper in front of him.
She stopped, waiting for the man to look at her. A few seconds passed and then a few more. She cleared her throat. "Excuse me."
The man put up a single finger. "Hold on a sec." He finished reading his article while Jen imagined yanking him from his chair by the collar.
Finally he looked up. "What can I-?" His words abruptly ended as he took his first look at Jen. His eyes widened. He sat up straighter in his chair and ran a hand through his thinning hair.
Oh buddy, you have no chance, she thought.
Jen was used to that reaction, although she never really understood it. When she looked in the mirror all she saw was a woman who obviously had one Korean parent and one Caucasian. She wasn't really sure what everyone else saw.
Out loud, she said, "I'm looking for Detective Cazini."
"And who may I say is looking for her?"
Jen reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out her shiny new badge. "Agent Witt."
It was the first time she'd used her badge. SIA Agent Clark had deputized her, Henry, Jake, Maddox, and Laney a few months ago - right after they had successfully taken down Samyaza, the fallen angel who once again had seemed hell bent on ruling mankind.
Jen still wasn't sure what she thought about the 'honor' of being a member of the SIA. But right now, credentials would help her along.
"She's upstairs. Second floor, homicide." The sergeant went to step off his chair. "Why don't I show-"
Jen cut him off and headed toward the entrance of the bullpen. "I'm sure I'll find it."
Jen didn't miss the crestfallen look on the man's face as he buzzed her through.
Jen strode down the hall, ignoring the occasional curious glance. Spying the stairs, she took them two at a time. She made a right at the second floor landing.
Third door on the left, the letters o-m-i-c-i-d-e were on the door. The outline of the H was barely visible. Apparently, it had been missing for a while.
There were only two occupants in the room and one was a man with a broom. She turned toward the female. "Detective Cazini?"
Cazini turned around. She was easily pushing fifty, which seemed odd for a detective. She should have climbed the ranks by now if she was in it for the long haul. Most cops Jen knew did their twenty or twenty-five and then were on to their new career.
"Yeah?" Cazini said. She had the voice and skin of a lifetime smoker.
Jen flashed her badge. "Agent Witt. I wanted to ask you about a case you caught."
Cazini blew out a breath. "Just make it quick."
Jen pulled over a chair. "The stabbing in Maxwell Park last night. In your report, it states that a young girl was assaulted by three assailants and got away."
"Yeah. One guy - looks like he fell on his knife during the fight. The other two: a couple of busted ribs and a broken wrist. They say some little teenager did that to all of them."
"You don't believe them?"
The detective shrugged. "Each of them has a rap sheet a couple of pages long, mostly drug related. I figure they were probably high at the time."
"But their tox screens came back clean."
"Well, maybe some sort of hallucination."
Jen tried to keep her anger in check. A shared hallucination that resulted in actual injuries? She thought of her friend Rocky Martinez and the kind of cop she was. A stab of grief rolled through her. This detective couldn't hold a candle to Rocky.
Jen's anger at Rocky's death added an edge to her voice. "Did you at least get a description of the girl?"
"They said she was small with dark hair, light eyes."
"Did you make any effort to find her?"
Cazini laughed. "Right - on the word of two druggies. I don't think so."
Jen stood. "Well thanks Detective. You've been almost helpful."
Cazini narrowed her eyes. "What did you say?"
"Pretty sure you heard me. You have a young girl who was attacked by three assailants and you've made no effort to find her. Sloppy is too clean a word for your work. Have a nice night."
Jen turned her back on the detective leaving her spluttering. She pushed the woman from her mind. It looked like finding this girl was going to be a bit more complicated. And she prayed she was the only on looking.
CHAPTER 6
Jen walked down the path in the park that led to the crime scene. Trees towered above her and blocked out what little light the grey sky provided. The attack on the girl occurred at night, making the park much darker than it was now.
Jen glanced up at the row of light poles that lined the path. She doubted any of them worked. And due to Detroit's economic woes, she didn't think lighting them was going to be a priority any time soon.
Jen imagined the place at night with a storm moving in and shuddered. Gutsy kid walking through here.
She checked her phone. Should only be another couple of feet. One of the beat cops who had uncovered the body had actually put the map coordinates from his phone on the report.
Even in the dim light, she could see the discoloration from where the blood had seeped into the grey top. She knelt down, looking around. That night this spot was dark, secluded, and cold. That poor kid.
Detective Cazini wrote in her report that she had canvassed the area and not found anything. But being Jen had seen the detective live and in person, she had no faith in that report.
Jen looked around, wishing she had gotten here earlier. Well she'd just have to make do.
To be honest, though, she wasn't even sure what she was looking for. She wasn't a cop, no matter what the badge in her jacket suggested.
Even with training, any training, she didn't think it would be easy to distinguish between something the kid had left behind and something someone else had dropped. To put it kindly, the park was not well maintained - trash littered the place.
Jen walked back to
the blood spot, trying to picture the attack in her head. She ignored the ramblings from the guys about trying to help the girl and focused on what they said. The girl had kicked one of guys in the ribs and used the other as a shield.
Jen pulled out her flashlight and illuminated the bushes and trees that ran along the path. Her hopes dimmed. Cazini was right. There wasn't anything here - nothing of use at least.
Her light landed on a bench a few feet away. Jen squinted. There was something there. Something dark.
Jen walked over to the bench and squatted down, pulling out her gloves. She wasn't doing it to preserve any evidence, but to avoid whatever grossness currently inhabited the space.
Pushing some newspapers out of the way, she saw a red backpack and pulled it out. A few books had fallen out. Jen gathered them as well.
The book on the top of the pile was A Separate Peace by John Knowles. Jen smiled. She remembered having to read that in high school, although for the life of her she couldn't remember the plot.
She tucked the books into the backpack and pulled the notebook out, flipping through it. Notes on the French Revolution were written in a neat handwriting. Jen placed the notebook back in the bag and zipped it up.
Slinging the pack over her shoulder, she headed out of the park. All right, let's see who you belong too.
CHAPTER 7
Lou jogged down her street, her eyes peeled for any one walking up on her. Ever since the night in the park she'd been extra vigilant when she was out. She pictured the man who'd grabbed her and her heart began to beat faster. She heard the snap of his wrist again. How did I do that?
She'd looked up wrist bones to see if they were easy to break. They weren't supposed to be. But she'd read that some people had more fragile bones than others. Maybe that's why she'd broken it so easily and the same for the other guy's ribs.
And the truth was, it had been easy. No harder than wringing a towel or kicking a piece of paper. She pictured the fear in the men's eyes when they looked at her. What had that all been? How had she done it?