A Silence in the Heart (Holmes Crossing Book 4)

by Carolyne Aarsen

  "Kent. What are you doing here? How did you get in?" She kept her voice even. Quiet. She didn't want to spook him.

  He jabbed at a hole in his T-shirt with one finger, viciously twisting it around. "I sneaked in."

  Undeterred by the belligerence in his voice, Tracy stopped in front of him, dropping to one knee, laying a gentle hand on his shoulder. "How did you do that?"

  "Yesterday. When that David man came yesterday. I put a stick in the door." He looked up at her now, his dark eyes wide, pleading, a complete contrast to the defensive tone she'd heard just moments ago. "I wanted to see my kitty . . . and . . . I was tired and . . ." He stopped.

  "And what, sweetie?"

  When he didn't reply, an uncomfortable thought pushed itself forward. "Did you sleep here last night, Kent?"

  He nodded. "I found some blankets." He looked up, the challenge back in his voice. "I stole some doughnuts too."

  Tracy ignored his bluster, recognizing the fear it hid. "That's okay, sweetie. Don't worry." Tracy tried to smile her assurance past a face tight with anger as she imagined how frightened he must have been to end up here.

  A noise behind them made his head jerk up, the fear darting across his face quickly replaced by an almost feral look. Tracy spun around.

  David stood framed in the doorway. "Hey, there," he said, coming closer. Tracy looked back at Kent, wondering if he would run again. "Was that your car on the tow truck I saw driving down the road?"

  "Yes. It broke down again." Tracy kept her gaze on Kent, who was edging away from David. "And now Kent is here," she said, wanting to distract him from that depressing topic.

  "You're here early," David said to Kent. "Have you seen your kitten yet?"

  Kent's eyes skittered over David and then back to Tracy as if to figure out what she would say. He only nodded.

  "That's good." David glanced at Tracy, lifting one eyebrow in amusement. "I thought I might beat you here this morning."

  Tracy held his gaze a split second longer than she had to. "Didn't know it was a race."

  "A challenge, maybe."

  "I came early to check on Kent's kitten," she said, giving him a frank look. She turned back to Kent, touching him lightly on the shoulder. "You probably came so early to see your kitten you forgot to eat breakfast." She winked at him, as if signaling their conspiracy.

  He nodded, his cautious gaze on David.

  "How about I take you to the café and buy you pancakes?" Tracy said. He needed more in him than just doughnuts.

  Kent shrugged lightly, but looked up at her. "I hafta ask my mom."

  Tracy doubted she was around, but went along with a charade. "Why don't we give her a call?"

  "Can I come for breakfast too?" David asked. "You'll need a ride."

  Of course she did. Dumb of her to forget. And for some reason, the idea of riding with David held a peculiar appeal.

  But then she glanced at Kent, who was still twisting his T-shirt around his finger. "What do you think, Kent? Should Dr. David give us a ride to get pancakes?"

  Kent frowned, as if still unsure.

  "He's a nice man," Tracy said. "He won't hurt you."

  Kent licked his lips and then gave an imperceptible nod of affirmation.

  "I guess you just got the seal of approval, David," Tracy said.

  His deep-set eyes held hers, a smile curving his shapely mouth. She let herself hold his gaze, return his smile, but she caught herself and looked away. She had plans, and she had to keep her focus on that. David was turning into a distraction she couldn't allow herself.

  "But we hafta ask my mom," Kent repeated, his little voice firm.

  "Sure, sport," David said, still crouched down. "I think that's a good idea."

  But it turned out Kent's diligence wasn't necessary. Tracy called the number, but there was no answer. She tried twice and both times was sent to voicemail. The second time, she left a quick message, letting Kent's mother know what was up, and then ended the call.

  "I didn't talk to your mother, but I left a message," Tracy told Kent. He chewed his lip, still hesitating. "I'm sure it will be okay," Tracy assured him.

  As he sighed, Tracy heard the faint rumbling of his stomach.

  "So let's go," she said brightly, smiling at Kent and taking his hand. To her surprise, he allowed it.

  His slightly sticky fingers clasped around hers, surprised a quiver of tenderness in her. She clutched his hand, and as she smiled down at him, she allowed the emotion to take root. To grow. Kent is much safer than David, she thought with a wry smile. He probably wouldn't break her heart.

  But as David walked up beside her, she wondered if David might not either.

  "Your eggs won't run away," Tracy teased, holding Kent's hand down before he shoved another forkful of food into his mouth.

  Kent's gaze darted to David, his expression wary, as if waiting to see what David would say. David gave him a cautious smile of approval, concerned over the boy's hyper vigilance around him. He wondered at his past experiences with men.

  "You're going to get a bellyache if you don't eat more slowly," David said, hoping he didn't sound too bossy.

  Kent looked at Tracy as if for confirmation. "Is he right? Will I get sick if I eat too fast?"

  "It could happen."

  Satisfied that David might be correct, Kent returned to his food, pacing himself a little better.

  "Can I see my kitty after school today?" Kent mumbled around a mouthful of pancake.

  "Of course you can," Tracy said. "If that's okay with your mom."

  "I can keep it a secret," Kent said as he finished the last of his breakfast. "My mommy makes me keep secrets all the time."

  David felt a flash of concern at the same time that he caught Tracy's startled glance.

  "You don't have to keep this a secret, Kent," Tracy said. "I don't want your mom to be angry with us."

  "And you should go wash your hands, Kent. You need to get to school," David said, glancing at his watch.

  "We'll wait for you," Tracy said.

  Kent jumped down and ran off to the bathroom.

  Terra brought the bill and a wrapped sandwich Tracy had requested for Kent. David neatly intercepted it before Tracy could touch it. "You forgot it was my treat," he said, pulling his wallet out.

  Tracy gave him a quick smile and then glanced over her shoulder as if making sure Kent was out of range. "I don't know about you," she said, folding her napkin, "but between finding him in the clinic this morning and that comment about secrets, I'm concerned."

  "What can we do?"

  Tracy folded her napkin again and creased it sharply. "I could call Danielle. She's a social worker. I've already mentioned Kent's situation to her. She could intervene."

  David blew out his breath. "It might be a bit soon for that. We know nothing about Kent's mother or her situation."

  "And what about Kent's situation?" She looked up at David, and he caught a glimpse of deep pain in her eyes. "He was sleeping in the kennel room, David. He was all alone and hungry and scared. What do we have to wait for?"

  Her unexpected vulnerability called to him, and he reached across the table, placing his hand on her arm, noting how soft her skin felt. How warm. She looked startled, but to his surprise, she didn't pull away. She held his gaze, and as he held her arm a little tighter, her features relaxed.

  "I'm worried about him," Tracy said, her voice quieter.

  "I am too. I just don't want to jump the gun on this."

  "I'm here again," Kent announced, cutting off any further conversation.

  And to his disappointment, Tracy pulled away again. In some ways, she could be so tough, but at these odd moments, he sensed a vulnerability that echoed Kent's. It puzzled and intrigued him.

  The drive back to the clinic was quiet. David had the stereo playing softly, the music creating a gentle ambience. Kent sat pushed up close to Tracy, keeping as much distance as possible between himself and David. When they got to the clinic, Kent was about to
jump out with Tracy, but she stopped him, holding on to the open door. "Dr. Braun will drive you to school, Kent."

  Kent wrapped his arms around his middle and rocked in his seat. "I don't wanna ride with Dr. David."

  Tracy's expression softened as she touched him lightly on the nose and buckled him in. "It's okay, Kent. I told you. Dr. David is a good man."

  Kent glanced over his shoulder, and David gave him a careful smile, wondering how one went about looking nonthreatening and safe.

  "We'll see you after school, little man," she said, and then closed the door and stood by the front of the clinic, waving as they left. Just like a mother would.

  “You have to remember, your puppy needs to have one of these pills every day." Tracy held up the bottle for the little girl across the counter from her as she looked at the clock again, trying to still the nerves in her stomach. Today she was meeting Edgar Stinson at the café.

  Carlene wrinkled her freckled nose in puzzlement. "How do I give it to him?"

  "You'll have to put it in some food to trick him. Your mom can help you." Tracy dropped the vial of medication into a paper bag, turning her attention back to Carlene. As she handed it to the little girl, she glanced at her mother standing behind her. "It's not hard," Tracy said, her reassuring smile masking the nervous thump of her heart as she caught sight of the minute hand sweeping across the face of the large clock on the wall behind them.

  Ninety-seven more minutes until her meeting with Edgar.

  Seeing Kent's apartment, a vivid reminder of her own childhood, had made her even more determined to close this deal. She remembered too well her own life as a young girl, and then a teenager, always afraid to have people over to see how she and her mother lived.

  "Thanks for all your help, Tracy." Kathy stroked her hand over Carlene's hair. "We'll see if we can get Horace back to normal again."

  Tracy watched Kathy's pale fingers absently toying with the little girl's hair, lifting it and then smoothing it down. When Carlene jerked her head lightly away, Tracy wanted to catch the little girl by the shoulder. Tell her what a precious gift her mother had just given her and, based on the indulgent smile on Kathy's face, gave Carlene every day.

  "Now you take as good a care of that puppy as your mom does of you and he'll be just fine," Tracy said instead.

  Kathy smiled at Tracy. "Thanks again. Horace is pretty special. We got him for Carlene after she got out of the hospital."

  "Right, I saw something on the bulletin in church." Tracy turned back to Carlene. "And you're feeling better now?"

  "Was just my 'pendix," she said with a shrug.

  "Well, Horace doesn't have any trouble with his 'pendix, and if you give him the pills, he'll be just fine."

  Carlene gave her a quick nod and a smile, and then they walked to the door, but it burst open before they could reach it. Kathy stepped out of the way of an angry young woman wearing skin-tight low-cut jeans and a belly-skimming beaded T-shirt. Tracy recognized her as soon as the door banged shut behind her.

  "What do you think you're doin' with my kid?" Kent's mother strode up to Tracy's desk, her face a mask of fury. She wore her hair up today, setting off her sharp cheekbones, her garishly made-up eyes arched by a double-pierced eyebrow. "Why you packin' him around? Feedin' him? Takin' him to school?"

  Kathy glanced worriedly over her shoulder and quickly ushered a curious Carlene out of the clinic as Tracy turned back to the furious woman.

  She forced herself to stay calm. Be rational. Push down her own building anger at this woman's neglect. "Can you explain what the problem is?"

  "I heard from a friend at the restaurant that you and some guy were givin' him breakfast." Kent's mother slapped her hand on the counter as if emphasizing her point, her hoop earrings swinging with each word she spat out. "You leave him alone or I'll call the cops on you."

  If anyone had a right to call the police, she and David did. But Tracy held the women's narrowed gaze and tried to let her seething anger roll past her. "I'm afraid I still don't know what the problem is, Mrs. . . ." Tracy let the sentence hang, hoping this irate woman would introduce herself.

  "It's Juanita, and Kent is my kid and he ain't comin' here no more."

  Tracy felt a pinch of unease. If Kent couldn't come to the clinic, it would be harder to keep tabs on him. And Kent needed to know that he had a sanctuary here. Where would he go the next time his mother wasn't home?

  Because Tracy knew there would be a next time.

  "He's been coming here because he brought a kitten here for us to look at. Would you mind if he came and saw it sometimes?" Tracy forced herself to be reasonable. Tried to make it look as if the kitten was all that was at stake here.

  "He doesn't have a kitten." Juanita shook a warning finger in Tracy's face. "Stay away from him, you hear? Just because you don't have kids of your own doesn't mean you can have mine. That's kind of creepy, if you ask me. Maybe I should tell the cops that."

  "I think you had better be careful with what you're saying," Tracy said. How dare this woman come in here, throwing around accusations?

  "You're wrong, lady. You're the one who has to be careful."

  The sharp ring of the phone broke into the conversation.

  Juanita slipped her hands into the back pocket of her blue jeans as she backed away from the counter. "You listen now. Stay away from my boy."

  She spun around and was gone as quickly as she had come.

  Tracy took a long, slow breath, willing her own building anger to subside. She had to calm herself, or the person on the other end of the phone would think they'd reached the wrong number.

  The phone call was quickly dealt with. Another job for Crystal and Dr. Harvey to do while they were on the road. But as she hung up, her heart was still pounding, her breath still coming in quick bursts. She had to settle down. Only eighty-five minutes until she saw Edgar, and she knew with him she needed to be on top of her game.

  The buzzer sounded, and Tracy looked up to see a heavy-set man come into the clinic, leading a dog whose nose resembled a jumbled pincushion.

  "Let me guess," Tracy said, pushing away from the desk, glad for something concrete to do. "I'm looking at the loser in a fight with a porcupine."

  The owner, Dan Allison, nodded, his own expression as lugubrious as the dog's. "I got up this morning, and Radar here was sitting on the step, rubbin' his nose with his paw."

  The dog raised its head to his owner's voice, his expression as distressed as a dog's could be.

  The gentle interaction between dog and owner soothed Tracy's jangled nerves. It never failed to both amuse and surprise her how mushy some of the biggest, toughest men could be when it came to their animals.

  "That porcupine really did a number on him, Mr. Allison." She gave him a reassuring smile. "I'll get Dr. Braun to look at him right away."

  "Dr. Harvey is gone?"

  "Dr. Braun is an excellent vet. Radar will be in good hands."

  Dan Allison looked surprised at the defensive tone of her voice. "Okay. It's just that Dr. Harvey always took care of Radar before."

  "Dr. Harvey is out right now. Dr. Braun is very good." She stroked Radar's head and then turned, almost bumping into David.

  Suddenly self-conscious at her vehement defense of him, she took a quick step back, slipping her hands in the pockets of the loose smock she wore over her clothes. She jerked her head in Mr. Allison's direction, trying not to blush. "Could you have a look at this dog? Porcupine quills."

  David's eyes glanced over her and then back at the dog. "I see that. Have Mr. Allison bring him into one of the rooms. I'll be there."

  Their eyes met. David smiled. And Tracy felt again that breath of hesitation that made her wonder, what if?

  She looked away from David's appealing face. She had her own plans and her own dreams. Her what if was in her own hands, and she was better off to keep it there.

  "It will be awhile before we're done," Tracy said, turning to Mr. Allison, trying to sound busi
nesslike. Trying not to pay attention to David's retreating footfalls. "Do you have other business in town?"

  Mr. Allison nodded, about to pick up the dog when Tracy stopped him.

  "That's okay. I'll get him." Tracy took the dog in her arms. "We'll take good care of him." Mr. Allison nodded and then left.

  Tracy carried Radar to the back room and shouldered open the door.

  David was already there, laying out a tray of supplies. He glanced up as Tracy laid the squirming dog on the table.

  "I thought Mr. Allison was bringing him in."

  "Radar's not that big," Tracy said, holding the dog still, trying not to look up at David as he carefully pried open the dog's mouth.

  "I'll need an injection of ketomin and valium made up," David murmured.

  Tracy relaxed at the unemotional tone of his voice. Safer ground. "It doesn't look like any got too far down his throat," he added as she mixed up the anaesthetic. "Kelly forceps should do it."

  She handed him the needle and watched as he injected Radar. The dog turned his head toward her as if wondering what was happening.

  "You'll be okay," Tracy said, stroking the dog's head. "Just a little poke, and when you wake up, the awful quills will be gone."

  David handed her the empty syringe, and she gave him the forceps as Radar slowly slumped to the table. Carefully, David started working.

  "So what was your take on Kent yesterday?" he asked. "I didn't get a chance to talk to you."

  Tracy held the dog's head while her mind easily slipped back to Kent's mother's angry confrontation. "I still think we should contact social services," she said with more force than necessary. She pressed her lips together as flashes from her own past melded with the picture of Kent sleeping in the kennel room.

  "Do you think that might be a bit soon?" David asked, his attention on his work. "I wonder if we shouldn't wait to earn his trust first."

  But Tracy wasn't going to sit back and watch this young child's life go through the same humiliating routine hers had. "I'd still like to file a report with Danielle. It doesn't mean anything will happen right away, but at least it's a start. Gets him on Social Service's radar."