To Save a Child--A Clean Romance

by Linda Warren

  “What?”

  She stepped over to the turkeys and picked up one that weighed almost twelve pounds. “I think Cora would be happy if we cooked this turkey and we won’t waste so much. What do you think?”

  He wiped away a tear. “Yeah. That one is just right.”

  She gave him another hug and pushed the cart toward checkout. She thought of calling Cole, but everything was okay and she didn’t want to worry him. Mr. Walt was just feeling sad, and she knew how that felt.

  Mr. Walt insisted they eat lunch out, so they stopped at a pizza place. He got Zoe out of the car seat and carried her inside. Grace let him. For a seventy-eight year old man, he was healthy and spry. She never sensed any weakness in him, except for his sadness.

  When they reached home, Mr. Walt helped her take the groceries inside and then crashed in his chair. She put Zoe down for a nap and went over the recipes she would have to cook for Thursday. She laid the cards out on the counter and realized she would have to make some of the things earlier. Everything wouldn’t fit in the oven at one time. Her head began to throb, and she sat on the sofa cuddling a pillow, listening to Mr. Walt snore.

  Cole hadn’t called all day, and she wondered if he’d found out anything. She hoped that there was something somewhere that would indicate her sister had been murdered. In her heart, Grace knew her sister wouldn’t willingly wait tables in a skimpy outfit, but the evidence proved otherwise. And there were moments she wondered if she knew her sister at all. Then their childhood would come back, and she was confident she knew Brooke better than anyone. There had to be a reason her life got all tangled with a destructive person like Joel Briggs.

  She cuddled the pillow harder. She missed her sister, her smile, her laugh and her boundless energy that Grace could still feel. Tears slipped from her eyes, and she curled into the sofa and remembered a sister she would never see again.

  She must have fallen asleep, because the next thing she knew, the back door opened and someone hollered, “Walt!”

  She jumped up and saw someone standing in the kitchen. She thought it was a woman, but she wasn’t sure. There was a worn hat on her head, and she wore a flannel shirt over baggy jeans tucked into work boots. She held a covered dish with something on top of it in her hands.

  She took one look at Grace and bellowed, “Who are you?”

  “Um... Grace.”

  Mr. Walt trailed into the kitchen. “Bertie, don’t you keep up with the gossip in town? This is the woman who slid off the road in the ice storm.”

  “Oh. I didn’t realize she was so young.”

  “That’s because you’re so old.”

  “You’re the same age as I am,” the woman came right back at Mr. Walt. “So don’t talk about old unless you can chew gum and whistle ‘Dixie’ at the same time.”

  Oh, no. Not another language barrier.

  Rascal barked and trotted into Grace’s bedroom.

  “Now, look what you did. You woke up the baby.”

  “What baby?”

  “Bertie, really? She has a baby, and they’re staying here until Lamar can fix her car.”

  Grace slid around them to go to Zoe. She changed her diaper and listened to the conversation in the kitchen.

  “I made a pot roast and brought some for you and Cole. There’re some yeast rolls on top.”

  “Thanks, Bertie, but now that Grace is here, you don’t have to worry about me. She’s cooking.”

  “Oh, are you sure? She doesn’t look like she can boil water.”

  Grace went back into the kitchen with Zoe on her hip. They were talking about her and she felt she should be present. She resented that the woman thought she couldn’t cook. Maybe because it was the truth, a little voice whispered in her hand.

  Mr. Walt took Zoe out of her arms. “Bertie, look at this baby. Isn’t she the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen?”

  The woman shook her head. “No. My Annie is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

  “Ah, you don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  The woman placed the bowl on the counter and looked at Grace. “That’s my pot roast, and it’s enough for y’all. I’ll get the dish later. Just don’t put it in the dishwasher. I don’t like my dishes in the dishwasher.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Grace replied. “I’ll take real good care of it.”

  The woman looked at Mr. Walt. “I’ll bring Thanksgiving supper about five on Thursday.”

  “I told you, Bertie, Grace is cooking.”

  The woman’s sharp gray eyes zeroed in on Grace. “Can you cook?”

  Grace refused to be intimidated. “I can read a recipe.”

  “Yeah. I’ll bring supper.”

  “No, please don’t,” Grace responded. “We went to town today and bought everything to cook Thanksgiving dinner, so please don’t bring more food. It won’t be needed.”

  “Yeah, whatever. You’ll be calling me.” She stomped out the back door.

  Grace placed her hands on her hips. “Well, I’ve never met anyone so rude.”

  “Never mind Bertie. She’s missing a knocker or two.”

  “Mr. Walt, that doesn’t make sense.”

  “Neither does Bertie. She lost a son and she’s never been the same, just like Cora. We all hurt and grieve in different ways. I’ve known Bertie all my life, and she’s a good neighbor and a good friend. Life has made her a little rough around the edges, though.”

  “I didn’t know.” Grace felt bad about talking back to the woman. In this small town, there was heartache and sadness just like everywhere else, but here they took care of each other—it was nice to see. Next time she would be more patient with Miss Bertie.

  She thought about Mr. Walt’s words. Life had a way of changing people like Miss Cora and Miss Bertie. Would it do the same to her? Would she become a bitter woman, not caring about people’s feelings and just going through the motions of living?

  Death touched everyone, and how they dealt with it was what mattered. She would embrace her sister’s passing with sadness and love and remember all the good times. And she would make sure Zoe remembered her, too. That was, if she got to keep Zoe. That still was a big if. She would stand strong and deal with life as her grandmother had told her. Her grandmother would say, “You’re not like your mother. You’re strong and you’ll make better choices.” Her choice to run had been a bad one, but it had brought her to the Chisholm home, and now Cole was her only hope for a life where she could adjust and heal.

  * * *

  COLE PICKED UP something to eat and went to his apartment. After supper, he took a shower and crawled into bed with his phone. He called Grace, and her soft voice lifted his spirits. He told her about his day and that he hadn’t found out anything important.

  “Don’t panic,” he told her. “Tomorrow I’ll do a little more pressing. It’s a slow go right now, but soon something will pop up. How was your day?”

  She told him about Grandpa and the turkey. He sat up straight. “He cried in the grocery store?”

  “Yes, but he’s okay now. It was just an emotional moment. He wants everything to be just like when your grandmother was alive, and I told him I would do my best to make it that way.”

  “Are you sure he’s okay? Do I need to come home?” Grandpa didn’t ever cry, and that worried Cole.

  “No. He’s fine. But I did meet your neighbor Miss Bertie, which was an unusual experience.”

  “Yeah. She’s eccentric, but she has a good heart and she’s helped me a lot with Grandpa.”

  “That’s what Mr. Walt said. The next time I’ll be better prepared.”

  That’s what he liked about Grace. She adjusted and moved on. She had more strength than he had ever seen in a woman—and he just might be getting in over his head.

  “I’ll be home tomorrow night. Call me if anything comes
up. I don’t want my grandpa to be upset.”

  “He’s not upset. He’s planning Thanksgiving and is all excited about it. I just hope I don’t let him down.”

  “You won’t.” If he knew anything, he knew that.

  He sat with his phone in his hand wondering how he’d gotten so emotionally involved in just a few days. Usually he was detached from people, but the sound of Grace’s voice took him places he wasn’t ready to go. How had this happened?

  * * *

  THE NEXT MORNING Cole met with Heather Wright, Brooke’s friend. She was in her early twenties with brown hair and blue eyes. They sat in the same ER chairs as he had with Dr. Colson.

  “How long have you known Brooke?”

  “We went to nursing school together.”

  “So you know her pretty well?”

  “Yes. We used to go out after work, but after she met Joel, I didn’t see her much.”

  “When Briggs came in here for treatment, were you in the room?”

  “No. Dr. Colson and Brooke were in the room.”

  “How did Brooke and Briggs hook up?”

  “Brooke was gaga over him, and I told her he’s a jerk. All he does is brag, and I pointed that out to her, but she said that didn’t bother her. She thought he was great.”

  “So they made a date that night in the ER?”

  Heather shook her head. “No. Joel came back the next day and asked for her number, and they made arrangements to meet that night. I told her to watch her step. I just didn’t like him from the start, but I trusted her judgment and let it go.”

  “Did you see bruises on her?”

  “Yes, we had a big falling-out about it. I told her to get out now, and she said that it had been her fault. I couldn’t believe it. After that, we didn’t talk much. I was just glad Grace was there for Zoe.”

  “Do you know why she took Zoe to Grace?”

  “I asked her one time why she wasn’t staying with her baby, and again she told me it was none of my business, so I let it go. It was her life, but I worried about her relationship with Joel.”

  “Do you know if she worked outside the hospital?”

  Heather frowned. “No. She couldn’t even keep up with this job. She was late so many times, the head nurse was about to give her her walking papers.”

  “Do you know why she was late?”

  “She was out at night in clubs with Joel. That’s what he liked to do...party.”

  “Do you know the name of the clubs?”

  She shook her head. “Like I said, we didn’t talk much. You need to talk to Amber. They grew up together and were close.”

  “Do you know how I can reach her? I tried her cell, and she didn’t answer. I left a message, but she hasn’t responded.”

  “Amber was very upset about Brooke’s death. She had to get away. She and her boyfriend went camping without phones. Quiet time was all that she wanted. She’s not expected back to work until Friday morning.”

  Cole thanked her and tried to put the pieces together in his head. Briggs was lying once again. He’d initiated the relationship, not Brooke. It bothered Cole that nothing was making sense—by now it should be. Why had Brooke taken the job at Deuces? The only person who could answer that was Joel Briggs, even though he said he wasn’t aware that she was working there. Cole planned to rattle his cage a little bit. He hadn’t made it there last night, but this morning his next stop was Briggs’s apartment.

  He lived in an exclusive, gated apartment complex with a pool, gym and tennis courts. A pass code was needed to get in. When a car went through the gate, he followed through before it could close.

  There were about thirty-two apartments in the complex. Briggs’s was in the first set of eight that faced the street. The staircases caught his attention. They didn’t go directly up to the apartment. They were slanted, and were actually two staircases going up to the apartments. It looked like two big Xs, with the centers not touching, on eight apartments. It had to be some sort of architectural design.

  Brooke had to fall down one set to a landing and then get up and fall the rest of the way to the ground. That would be a lot of hits to her body and head. Maybe the ME wouldn’t find anything else. But what had made her run headlong to her death?

  He made his way up the first set of stairs and noticed a dark spot on the landing. Brooke’s blood—that stain would be there forever or until the stairs were destroyed. He wondered how Briggs felt when he went by it every day.

  Cole made his way to the large stained glass front door and rang the bell.

  Joel Briggs answered it himself. He narrowed his eyes. “Can I help you?”

  Cole pulled out his badge and introduced himself.

  “I don’t understand what you’re doing here. Parker said the case was closed.”

  “I’m just double-checking the facts. That’s what we do before we close a case.” He nodded his head toward the apartment. “Do you mind if I come in?”

  Briggs stepped back, and Cole realized for the first time just how big the man was. Broad shoulders, muscled neck, solid arms, legs and chest. He couldn’t have gotten that big without steroids.

  He glanced around the large apartment. Posters of Briggs in his football uniform were everywhere, some when he was a kid, some when he was in high school, others when he was in college and in the NFL. Awards, memorabilia and footballs signed by famous players were in a large glass case. The place was like a museum of Briggs’s life.

  “Do you like football?” Briggs asked.

  “Yeah, who doesn’t?”

  “I started playing when I was about eight, and I never wanted to do anything else. I’m one of the best defensive ends ever to play the game, and I have the stats to back it up. I’ve sacked many a great quarterback. I have film in the game room. Would you like to watch?”

  He was like a little boy wanting to show off his trophies. “Thanks, man, maybe another time. I’m working.” He wanted to get Briggs on his side, and to do that he had to play nice.

  “Sure, sure. What do you need to know?”

  Cole sat on the white leather sofa, and Briggs took the red leather chair across from him. A glass and stainless steel coffee table was between them. Briggs started talking about a football game where he made spectacular plays and went on and on and on.

  “Man, I could listen to you all day, but I’m here to check facts.” Cole pulled out his notebook from his jacket. “According to you, Brooke Bennett contacted you after your visit to the ER and continued to call you and harass you until you went out with her.”

  “Yeah, girls do that all the time and I try to ignore them, but she was beautiful and I finally gave in. We went out to eat, and after that I really liked her. She moved into my apartment, and we got along for a while, then she started getting jealous over little things. Women look at me and women like me. I can’t stop that, but she’d get so jealous and go into childish tirades. I told her to get out.”

  “Yes, I read all of that in the file, but you see, I have a little problem.”

  Briggs frowned. “What?”

  “I spoke with nurses at the ER, and they said you came back the next day and asked for Brooke’s number.” He didn’t want to implicate Heather, so he played it cool.

  “I came back the next day to tell Brooke to stop calling me. She called me at all hours of the night and wouldn’t let me sleep.”

  Briggs was full of excuses. And Cole knew it wouldn’t do him any good to go further. Briggs would only lie. But Cole had an ace up his sleeve.

  “Do you know Allan Hernandez?”

  Nothing showed on Briggs’s face. He was probably a good poker player. “No. I’ve never heard the name. Is he a fan? I’ll autograph a football for him.”

  “No, he’s not a fan. He’s a victim. His jaw was broken at Deuces Gentlemen’s Club. Have you heard of it?”
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  Briggs stood in one easy movement, his muscles tense. “No, and I’d like for you to leave.”

  Cole slowly stood. “I have a lot more questions, Mr. Briggs, especially about your daughter.”

  Briggs pointed a finger at him. “My daughter is none of your business.”

  “You’re wrong about that. You plan to take her from the only person who loves her. Why do you want your daughter now?”

  Briggs pulled out his cell phone, the veins in his neck bulging out. “I’m calling Parker, and he’ll have your badge for harassing me.”

  Cole slid the notebook back into his pocket. “He doesn’t have the authority to do that. This case isn’t over, Mr. Briggs. It’s a long way from over.” He walked toward the front door and then went down the stairs.

  When he got in his truck, his cell buzzed. Parker.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

  “My job. Checking facts, and the facts don’t match what’s in your file.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “When I get it all together, I’ll put it on your desk with a big bow.”

  “Chisholm—”

  “Briggs is guilty as sin, and if you don’t want to go down with him, you better start listening to me. He’s lying. Every word that comes out of his mouth is a lie.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  “You let his fame get to you, and you never looked beyond it. There’s a whole lot of ugly behind Joel Briggs. I’ll catch you later.”

  “Chisholm—”

  Cole slipped his phone into his pocket and drove to Deuces. It wasn’t open this time of day, but maybe the staff could give him some answers, some details that would tie Briggs to the club. He parked in the empty parking lot and walked in. The club was just as Hernandez had explained it, expensive and shiny. A Mexican boy about eighteen was cleaning tables and glanced at him curiously. A man behind the bar wiped glasses and didn’t seem to notice Cole. He walked over to him.