To Save a Child--A Clean Romance

by Linda Warren

  “She’s giving you smooches,” Grace said from the doorway. She was in a bathrobe with her damp hair nestled against her face.

  “What?” he asked, distracted.

  She walked farther into the room. “She’s giving you smooches.” She rubbed Zoe’s back. “Are you giving Cole my smooches?”

  Zoe wiggled and flailed her arms.

  Grace stared at him.

  “What?”

  “Give her smooches back. Kiss her cheek.”

  “Grace—”

  “Kiss her cheek.”

  He kissed Zoe’s cheek, and as he did he sensed the heartache and sadness of the past shrinking inside him. It wasn’t dominating him, controlling him like it had before, all from the soft, enduring touch of a child. But it also made him feel helpless and vulnerable in a way that frightened him. He quickly handed off Zoe to Grace.

  “I’ve got to go.” He walked out of the room as if his boots were on fire. In his truck he unlocked his glove compartment and reached for his gun and badge. He was back to being Cole Chisholm, a hard-nosed cop who didn’t get his feelings all squishy from holding a baby.

  * * *

  GRACE HAD HER hands full with Mr. Walt. He was giving her orders left and right, and she could barely keep up.

  “I’m going to feed the boys and the chickens, and then we’ll fire up Bertha and go buy groceries for Thanksgiving.”

  “Mr. Walt, there will only be the two of us. We don’t really need a turkey.”

  “Sure we do. Everybody has turkey on Thanksgiving.”

  “But I’ve never made turkey and dressing.”

  “I’ll teach you. My Cora lost her mind, but she still knew how to cook.” He pointed a finger at her. “That’s a lesson to be learned. If you lose your mind and know how to cook, you’ll still be able to feed yourself.”

  She burst out laughing. “Mr. Walt, that is hilarious and chauv—”

  “I know. The pig thing, but it’s true, and we’ve had that conversation already.”

  Grace reached for her cell to call Frannie and share about her life in bizarro world. Though it wasn’t feeling so bizarre anymore.

  “Wait a minute. Why does the old man think you can cook?”

  “I made sandwiches the first night, and I guess they were good.”

  “Does he know your middle name is takeout?”

  Grace laughed. “Hey, you taught me to make biscuits, and I have a feeling I’m going to be making them every morning while I’m here.”

  “I don’t know how you made fried chicken and a coconut pie.”

  “His wife has all her recipes in a box. I made it according to the directions, and of course he was there to instruct. He did most of it. He’s really a lovable old man.”

  “I’m glad you’re somewhere safe and comfortable.”

  “Me, too. I crashed at the right place.”

  “And I’m really happy that take-charge guy is helping you.”

  “Me, too. He’s really very nice.”

  “You opened your eyes, didn’t you?”

  “A little.”

  Frannie laughed. It was good to talk to her friend. Frannie had always been her anchor, her voice of reason when she thought she would go insane from all the heartache. Grace didn’t mention all the details about her sister and the gentlemen’s club, and she wouldn’t until Cole had gathered all his information.

  “Has Joel been back?” Grace asked.

  “No, I haven’t seen him. Maybe that’s a good thing.”

  “I haven’t gotten another text from him, either. I don’t know. It’s like he’s biding his time or something.”

  “Just be strong, Gracie.”

  “I’m trying.”

  “Robert called and wants me to spend Thanksgiving with my grandkids in Virginia. The new great-grandbaby will be there, and I’m thinking of going now that you’re tucked away safely.”

  “Go, Frannie. You rarely get to see your family, and I’m okay.”

  “Are you sure, Gracie?”

  “I’m sure.” But inside she felt her anchor, the one she depended on for security, shake. It seemed she was destined to always lose the ones she loved. And the more she held on, the harder it was to let go. She yearned for the one anchor that no one could ever take away from her—Zoe.

  She bit on a fingernail and replied again, “I’m sure. Send me pictures.”

  “I will, and don’t kill that old man.”

  Grace clicked off with a smile, but her eyes filled with tears. She had always known that one day Frannie would move to be near her son and grandchildren. Her son was a colonel in the Army, and when he retired, Frannie would join them. And then Grace would be truly alone. Without Brooke... Without Zoe...

  She ran to the bathroom to get herself under control. “I hope you’re happy, Cole Chisholm. I’m preparing myself for the worst.” Then she dried her tears and got ready to spend the day with Mr. Walt. She knew he would certainly make her laugh. And she needed a little craziness right now.

  * * *

  COLE WENT TO the office and made copies of things he needed, and then he headed to the ER listed in the file. The only place to start was at the beginning. Grace and Briggs had different stories, and he had to prove which one was lying. Although he already knew. And that’s when he realized he had really crossed the line. Facts didn’t seem to matter anymore, and he couldn’t quite explain that to himself. Or he didn’t want to.

  It was after seven when he reached the ER, and it was busy. Emergency personnel were coming and going. People were waiting to be treated. Others were waiting on family members. He walked around several people to get to the desk and spoke to a nurse. He pulled out his badge and introduced himself. “I’d like to speak to Dr. Kevin Colson.” The doctor had treated Briggs when he’d injured his wrist.

  “He’s assisting a patient,” she told him. “It’s going to take a minute.”

  “I’ll wait.” He took a seat in a waiting area and watched gurneys being pushed in and out. He stared down at his boots, wondering when the doctor would show.

  Cole stood when he saw a doctor in a white coat walking toward him. The man held out his hand and shook Cole’s. “What can I help you with?” he asked.

  Cole showed him the paper he held in his hand. “I’d like to talk to you about that.”

  The doctor looked at the wrist injury report of Joel Briggs. “Yes. I treated him. It was severely swollen, and he thought he’d broken it. After the X-ray, I determined it was only sprained. I told him what to do and gave him a pain prescription for five days and released him.”

  Cole pointed to the bottom where it said “cause of injury.” “Is that consistent with a fall?”

  “Yes.”

  “What else would it be consistent with?”

  “What?” The doctor adjusted his stethoscope and looked away. He was nervous.

  “How else could that sprain have happened?”

  The doctor didn’t reply, and Cole could almost see the wheels turning in his head.

  “How about a punch to the face or the stomach?”

  “Sure, that’s possible, but Mr. Briggs said he injured his wrist in the park playing football with kids. And that’s what’s in the report.”

  Cole didn’t press him. He would need more information for that.

  “Look, I’ve got to go,” the doctor said. “The report is correct, if that’s what you’re asking.”

  Cole didn’t leave it at that. He went to medical records—with luck, Vera would be there. She was about fifty, with a quick tongue and a heart of gold. Cole had gotten information from her many times when he was in a hurry, and she always complied without a lot of red tape.

  “Hey, Vera.” He leaned into the window where she sat at a desk.

  She looked at him over the rim of her tortoise
shell glasses. “Sergeant, how can I help you today?”

  “I’m looking for information, and I hope you’ll help me.”

  “And you don’t have a subpoena?”

  “No, ma’am, but it involves a possible homicide and a nine-month-old baby.”

  “What kind of information?”

  “I’d like for you to check your ER database and see if there was a head, chest or shoulder injury on these days.” He slid a piece of paper in front of her.

  Her eyes opened wide. “Are you kidding me?”

  “Now, Vera. You know I don’t kid when I’m working.”

  “If you weren’t so good-looking, I’d kick you out of here.”

  “But you won’t?”

  “When you mentioned a nine-month-old baby, you had me.”

  She let him into the office, and he followed her into another room with computers. She sat down at one of them and he looked over her shoulder. “What do you need again?”

  He explained one more time and watched her fingers go to work.

  “Here’s a busted nose.”

  “Who is it?”

  “A twelve-year-old boy.”

  Damn. “No, that’s not it.”

  “Fractured ribs?”

  “Who?”

  “An eighty-four-year-old woman.”

  “No, that’s not it, either.”

  “A dislocated shoulder? Thirty-two-year-old woman.”

  “No.” Cole sighed, and it went it like that for the next thirty minutes. He finally had to admit that no one had been treated in this ER for a possible punch by Joel Briggs. This wasn’t the only ER, and for the next ones he would have to have a subpoena. He knew a judge he worked with a lot who was a supporter of children’s rights. He called him and explained the situation. He had a subpoena within the hour and started visiting ERs across Austin.

  At five o’clock, Cole was frustrated. He had two more ERs to visit, and for the first time he had to consider that Brooke hadn’t told Grace the truth. Or whoever had been in the fight didn’t go to the ER. For Briggs to injure his wrist that badly, there had to be a victim somewhere.

  The next one was a large hospital and he knew it would take some time. A young girl of about twenty helped him. She had on fake eyelashes, and her long nails were a deep purple. The tips of her nails flew across the keyboard, and he couldn’t imagine how she did that so fast. But soon she had a list for him.

  He glanced at it, and something immediately jumped out at him. A fractured jaw. Bingo! He got the name, address and phone number and made an appointment to meet Allan Hernandez. He managed a sporting goods store, and that’s where they arranged to meet.

  The man was medium height and probably weighed around 190 pounds. No match for Joel Briggs. They sat in his office.

  “What’s this about?” Allan asked.

  Cole laid the medical report in front of him. “I’d like to ask about this.”

  The man pushed back in his chair, a neutral expression on his face. “That was a long time ago.”

  “Can you tell me what happened?”

  “I got a sucker punch right to my jaw and had my lights put out. I woke up in the ER, and they admitted me to the hospital. My jaw was broken, and I had to have surgery. It took two pins to put it back together.” He rubbed his jaw self-consciously.

  “Who hit you?”

  Allan shook his head. “I don’t know.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I was in a bar talking trash, trying to get the attention of some pretty cocktail waitresses, and the next thing I know I’m in the ER.”

  “You have no idea who hit you?”

  The man shook his head.

  “What were you saying that was so insulting?”

  “I don’t remember. I had about four Jacks on the rocks, and all I wanted to do was flirt with a gorgeous waitress.”

  Cole touched the paper. “This is assault. Why didn’t you file charges?”

  “I don’t know, man. It’s all fuzzy. I opened my mouth when I shouldn’t have, and I got what I deserved.”

  The man was lying so bad it showed all over his guilty face. Why? That’s what Cole couldn’t figure out.

  “You deserved a broken jaw?”

  “I didn’t belong in that club, and I paid a price.”

  “Why didn’t you belong?”

  “I’m Mexican, and that was a rich white man’s club.”

  “What happened, Mr. Hernandez?”

  “My wife had gone to her mother’s for a couple of days, and I was at loose ends. There’s this club I drive by when I go home. There’s always pretty women going in there, and I thought I’d just check it out. It’s a fancy place with valet parking and all. Inside it’s even fancier with a curved mahogany bar and a million glasses that sparkle like diamonds. I’d never been in a place like that. I sat down at the bar and ordered Jack on the rocks. The big-screen TV was on, and a football game was playing. Those guys in suits and chinos and expensive shirts were saying, ‘watch this player’ or ‘watch that player.’ I’d had a lot of liquor by then, and I said I didn’t think the play was all that great. I remember this enormous pain hit the left side of my face, and I woke up in the ER. I had to tell my wife because I was in the hospital. She was furious for a while, but she forgave me. I just want to put that night behind me.”

  “What was the name of the club?”

  “Deuces.”

  Joe Penetti’s gentlemen’s club. The club where Brooke Bennett worked. At the very least, the club was the front for Penetti’s high-stakes gambling games. He’d been arrested before, but a good defense attorney always managed to get the charges dropped. That attorney was Harlan Myers, Stephanie’s father.

  Cole stood and reached inside his jacket for a business card. He slid it across the desk. “When you’re ready to tell me the truth, call. It’s very important.”

  He could push it further, but for now he’d let Allan Hernandez simmer for a while.

  Back in his truck, he thought about what he’d just learned. Mostly nothing. But Brooke worked in that club, and since she worked there, his guess was Joel Briggs was a frequent visitor. Briggs had said he didn’t know Brooke was working at night, but again, Cole was guessing that he did. Why Brooke took the job in the first place was a still a big question mark. He intended to find out exactly what hold Joel Briggs had over Brooke.

  His next stop was to visit with the man himself. Joel Briggs.

  But as he drove, a thought occurred to him—if an ambulance was called to the club, the cops would have responded, too. He hurried back to the station to gather more information. He had what he needed within minutes, and then he went over to patrol to talk to Officers Gibbons and Collins, who had answered the call. He found them in the locker room at the end of their shift.

  “Hey, Sarge,” they said as he entered.

  He handed the police report to them. “Why isn’t the attacker’s name on this report?”

  “Sarge, that’s a long time ago,” Gibbons responded.

  “Wait, that’s Deuces,” Collins said. “When we got there, the place was almost empty. Only the bartender, the manager and a few waitresses were there, and they didn’t see anything, of course. No one could identify the man who hit Hernandez. They said he ran out the door, as did the customers as soon as the ambulance was called. We checked in with Hernandez at the hospital, and he said he didn’t know who hit him. The case was a brick wall, and we moved on.”

  “Is something wrong?” Gibbons asked.

  “No. Very good police work.”

  “Thanks, Sarge.”

  It was after nine when he crawled into his truck. His lonely apartment wasn’t all that appealing. He thought of going home to Horseshoe, Grandpa, Grace and Zoe, but he had to keep digging, and he had to start very early in the morning.


  He had to gather every bit of information he could so Grace would have a better chance of keeping Zoe. That was his goal, and he wasn’t stopping until it happened.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  GRACE HAD TO bite her lip a couple times during the day, but otherwise everything went well. She had everything she needed written down for the recipes Mr. Walt wanted to cook. She wasn’t buying anything else, except for diapers and things for Zoe.

  The first hitch came when Mr. Walt said Horseshoe’s grocery store wasn’t big enough and he wanted to go into Temple. After a seemingly endless conversation, she agreed to go. The store was much bigger and had a lot more choices. Mr. Walt disappeared for a moment and came back with a small teddy bear in his hand and gave it to Zoe. Before Grace could grab it, Zoe had a plush arm in her mouth and was slobbering away.

  “Mr. Walt, you can’t put this back now. Zoe has chewed on it.”

  “I don’t want to put it back. I bought it for Zoe Grace.”

  “Mr. Walt, we’ve had this conversation, and...”

  “And we’re probably gonna have it again.”

  “Mr. Walt...”

  He pushed Zoe farther down the aisle and left Grace there fuming. The Chisholm men were so infuriating. She was good at dealing with elderly people, but Mr. Walt was pushing her buttons.

  The turkey was the last thing on the list. She looked through all the turkeys, trying to find a small one.

  “Here’s one, Grace,” Mr. Walt said.

  She pushed the cart to where he was standing and looked at the enormous bird. “That’s a twenty-pound turkey.”

  “Yeah, it’s just right.”

  “No, we do not need that big of a turkey for just two people.”

  “Zoe Grace will be there.”

  “Zoe is a baby and will not eat hardly anything. We do not need this big of a turkey.”

  “Yes, we do. Cora always cooked a big turkey. I want it to be like when Cora was here. I want everything to be like—” Big tears filled his eyes, and Grace’s heart dropped. “I know she was out of her mind, but I miss her.”

  Grace put her arm around his shoulders. “It’s okay, Mr. Walt. I’ll fix everything just like Cora did. My cooking may not be as good as hers, but I’ll do my very best. But—”