by David Horne
Mark’s expression softened.
“It’s not. With our jobs, it’s bound to happen. It’s not good, but we have to put up with it because we love our jobs regardless. We’re damn good at them.”
“Still wish I could deal with decent human beings at times.” Jack muttered.
“Would you change your job?”
“Hell, no.”
“There you are, then. You’re going to have to grit your teeth and get on with it.” Mark tugged his head down and kissed him. “But I’ll be around for you if you need someone to lean on. If you want me to be there.”
“Do you want to be there?”
Jack began to feel hopeful. Maybe this day would turn out okay, after all. Mark wasn’t going to leave him to deal with this on his own. For the first time in years, Jack wanted to be able to lean on someone. He didn’t want to focus on this alone; he had a habit of internalizing his frustrations, and it manifested in a bad way. Having Mark there, the guy who was level-headed and patient, would be welcoming.
“I want to be there.” Mark smiled. “Just give me the word, and I won’t be going anywhere.”
That sounded like music to Jack’s ears. He accepted Mark’s kiss, fumbling to put the book on the shelf behind him so he could grab Mark. Mark’s body was hard and warm, very warm. Jack couldn’t wait to get Mark back into bed.
Or maybe on the couch, it was closer…
A ringing tone had Mark stiffening before pulling away with a groan.
“I’d better get that.”
“I know.”
That was going to be something they would both need to get used to - having their cell phones going off at practically any time. Jack with parolees complaining or fussing over something and Mark with complaints or kids needing to talk with someone. Mark saw himself as a child advocate and wanted to be there if a child wanted to talk to someone. He put himself out there for all the children, which Jack found admirable.
It was a wonder Mark hadn’t broken down already.
Mark frowned as he fished out his cell phone. Then his expression softened when he saw the caller ID.
“It’s Mom.” Then he groaned. “Shit, I forgot to call and say goodnight to the kids last night.”
“They’ll understand if you didn’t.”
“I hope so, otherwise this is Christy calling to tell me off.” Mark answered the call. “Hello? Hi, Mom. Are the…?” Then he froze, his voice dying away. Jack saw his face pale. “What? Where is she now? Shit!” The cursing had Jack jumping. “Don’t let her in and call the cops when she comes back. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
His hand was shaking as he hung up.
“What’s happened?”
“Tracey turned up at Mom’s house.” Mark looked up. He looked scared. “Mom says she was screaming and raving about me ruining her life. She was also brandishing a knife, claiming she would make sure I didn’t have kids, either.”
Jack went cold. Shit, Tracey Banfield had gone off the deep end.
“How did she even know where your mother lived?”
“I have no idea. But I need to get over there.”
Jack didn’t even need to think about it. He grabbed Mark’s head and kissed him.
“Go. I’ll finish off here. You focus on your family.”
Mark nodded grimly and hurried from the room. Jack debated shouting after him to be careful, but decided against it. Mark would obviously be careful. He didn’t need to worry.
Not much, anyway.
***
Mark was trying not to panic as he drove toward his mother’s house. At least his car was still in the parking lot from the night before - Mark’s intention to drive it back once Jack’s office had been sorted - so he didn’t need to pace around waiting for a cab. And Mark didn’t feel like putting this on Jack’s shoulders, not when he had something serious to focus on himself.
He hoped that Tracey was long gone by the time he got there. He didn’t want to deal with the woman trying to threaten his mother and children. Amber had never met Tracey, had never done anything wrong to her. And Stevie and Christy were just children. As a mother herself, what part of Tracey’s mind thought it was a good idea to threaten to kill children? Aside from the fact it was going to get her arrested, the moral part of her had to know this was crossing the line in more ways than one.
Then again, various people around her, as well as his own experiences with her, had witnessed a decline in Tracey’s attitude and behavior. It seemed to be reducing her reasoning and rationality. Whatever she was taking or whatever was happening to her was making things even worse. After a few calls to Joe and his new partner Alex - briefly Tracey’s former attorney - Mark found that they had been getting some phone calls from Tracey and her mother, mostly Joe. They screamed at him for ruining their lives and turning everything upside-down. Mark checked his own messages and found several text messages from Tracey and a few from Denise. They were pretty much accusing him of the same thing.
But why was Tracey at his house and not Joe’s? Why was she targeting him instead of her ex-husband?
Mark could only hope that Tracey was still rational enough for him to talk to her and get her to leave or check into a psych ward. She couldn’t be in her right mind if she were doing this.
Mark pulled up outside his mother’s house to find that there was nobody outside. A couple of flowerpots on the drive had been knocked over, pottery and soil all over the tarmac, and some tire marks on the grass. Tracey had been here, but she wasn’t anymore.
Parking behind his mother’s car, Mark hurried up to the front door. His brother would have been called and would be on the lookout for Tracey. Mark had agreed to that with Rusty while he was driving over. Mark was to check on the kids and their mother while Rusty looked for Tracey in the usual places. She was getting out of control.
Amber opened the door on the first ring of the doorbell. She was pale and almost burst into tears when she saw Mark.
“Mark! Thank God!”
“Mom.” Mark hugged her tightly before gently pushing her in and shutting the door, putting the lock on. “Where are Stevie and Christy?”
“We’re here.”
Stevie appeared at the top of the stairs. He looked nervous. Mark went to the stairs.
“You okay, buddy?”
“Just freaked out.” Stevie gestured down the hallway. “Christy’s still hiding in her room. I’ve put the TV on and turned it up loud so she doesn’t have to hear it.”
“Good.” Mark went up the stairs, kneeling on the steps to be eye-level with the teenage boy. “You’re doing good, Stevie.”
Stevie nodded. Then he began to shake.
“I don’t feel like I’m doing good. When Grandma told us to go upstairs after someone started screaming, I thought she was going to get in. I thought…”
“I know.” Mark wrapped his arms around the boy and hugged him. “I know. You’re doing great.”
Stevie sniffled, his arms tightening around Mark. The kid was terrified. If Mark had witnessed it first-hand, he would more likely feel the same. Stevie and Christy did not need this. Mark could only imagine what horrible memories this was bringing up right now.
Wait a minute, did Stevie just call Amber ‘Grandma’?
“Oh, God.”
Mark drew back and looked down the stairs. Amber was looking at her cell phone, her eyes wide.
“Mom?” Mark turned to Stevie. “Go into Christy's room and wait there. We’ll let you know when you can come out.”
“You’ll be okay?”
Mark ruffled his hair. Another six months and he wouldn’t be able to do that.
“I’ll be fine. Go to Christy.”
Stevie hurried off and Mark came down the stairs. Amber looked up and turned her cell phone to face him. Mark had almost forgotten about the cameras he and Rusty had put up outside, all accessed by Amber’s phone. Taking the phone, Mark watched as someone pulled a car up onto Amber’s front lawn and the driver’s door op
ened. Tracey got out, and Mark saw the flash of a knife in her hand. It was one of those big kitchen knives with a wide blade. Mark felt a shiver down his spine. From the way Tracey was screaming and swaying about the lawn, kicking over one of Amber’s garden gnomes, she was either very high or very drunk.
Just what they needed now. Mark was beginning to wish he had brought Jack with him; he could knock Tracey over just by breathing on her.
“Get out of there, you stupid bitch!” Tracey’s scream was audible through the door and on the cell phone. “Tell me where the bastard is! Where the fuck is he?”
“She did the same thing earlier.” Amber whispered. “But she stopped on the drive last time. I told her to go away, I didn’t open the door, and then she got the knife out and threatened to barge her way in.”
“Did you tell her you were calling the cops?”
“I did, and I have. They’re on their way.” Amber flinched as something hard hit the door. “Who the hell is she?”
“She’s Joe Swarbrick’s ex-wife.”
Mark didn’t talk about his cases with his mother - he liked to keep confidentiality if he could - but Amber knew Joe. They had met a handful of times, and Amber liked Joe. The feeling was mutual. She knew enough of the story from him without Mark needing to say anything.
Amber’s eyes widened.
“That’s the ex-wife? How did Joe manage to have a family with someone as crazy as that?”
“I’m sure she wasn’t always crazy.”
“She must’ve been. You don’t go from zero to a hundred out of nowhere.” Amber shook her head. “She must’ve been very good at hiding the crazy.”
And distance from her family helped. Mark was still under the impression that Denise and Lucas Banfield were the reason Tracey was slipping fast now. She had been a good person and fantastic mother when they lived elsewhere with limited contact, but now they were in the same area, it was like a different person. They had to be the catalyst for all of this.
Another thud made the door rattle. From the look of it on the cameras, Tracey was kicking the door. Mark was not having this. If Tracey got in before the cops got there, she was going to go after his mother and children.
“Call the cops again and let them know she has come back. I’m going out the back door.”
“What?” Amber looked horrified. “You’re not going to confront her, are you?”
“Would you rather she comes in and you shoot her?” Mark headed towards the back of the house. “Just let the cops know she’s back, Mom!”
Letting himself out of the kitchen door, Mark jogged around to the front of the house. Tracey was still hitting the door with her fist, her other hand clenched tightly around the knife. Mark felt a moment of panic. He hadn’t talked down anyone holding a knife. What was he doing?
Protecting your family, that’s what you’re doing.
“Tell me where the bastard is!” Tracey screamed, kicking the door. “He ruined my life! Now I’m going to ruin his!”
How was this not bringing out the neighbors? This was a nosy area, and people were always sticking their heads out to see what was going on. Mark had seen his mother’s neighbors hovering around in their front lawns pretending to garden or wash their cars when it wasn’t needed just so they could have something to gossip about. Decent people, but that habit was annoying.
Mark wished that annoying habit would rear its head right now. He had a feeling he was going to need it.
He approached Tracey as Tracey gave the front door a running kick. This time the wood cracked and the doorframe itself started rattling. She kept this up, and she was going to kick the door down.
“Tracey!” Mark grabbed her arm and hauled her away. “What the hell are you doing?”
Tracey screamed and swung the knife. Mark let go and jumped back, the blade missing his stomach. Tracey’s eyes were wild, and her pupils were so large that Mark couldn’t see the color. She was very high on something. Tracey bared her teeth and brandished the knife at him.
“You! You bastard!”
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Mark tensed, ready to either run if Tracey charged or grab at the knife. “How did you find out where I live?”
“Mom’s good with computers. She found out your address with just a few clicks of the mouse.” Tracey was breathing heavily. “She said you don’t deserve to be a father, not after what you’ve done. And I agree.”
“What have I done?”
“You ruined my life, and my family’s. Mom is so distraught she can’t get out of bed. We did nothing to deserve it.”
She was on something very strong if it was screwing up the rational part of her. Anyone with common sense wouldn’t bring their children around a sex offender, even if they had a familial bond. If Tracey were level-headed, she would understand. Denise and Lucas had done a number on her.
She was incredibly lucky Lily and James had been seen by doctors since that declaration and both said neither had been touched in a way that would make them uncomfortable. Or she would be in hot water as well.
Mark eyed the knife, which was shaking in her tight grip.
“You put your children in a dangerous situation, Tracey.”
“My brother…”
“Is a convicted sex offender and he’s not supposed to be around children. This has been told to you multiple times. You also reported your ex-husband for false child abuse claims, which is going to be marked down for you. I was just doing my job and keeping children safe. Your children.”
Tracey snorted.
“Your job? That’s a joke! Your job is to bring misery to people. You’ve been doing this to me for years!”
Mark frowned. Years? He had only known Tracey Banfield and her situation for the last six months.
“Years? What are you…?”
“I loved you, Joe!” Tracey wailed. “And I put up with your tantrums about my family because I loved you. You said they were trash and bad for me, that I was better without that. They were never trash. That would be you!”
That was when realization dawned. Tracey was too far gone in her delusions. Whatever she was taking had skewed everything in her head. Was she actually seeing her ex-husband in front of her or was she seeing him? Mark held up his hands and started to move closer to her.
“Tracey, my name’s not Joe. I’m not your ex-husband. I’m Mark, remember?”
Tracey shook her head.
“Don’t lie to me, Joe. You’ve lied to me long enough!”
“I’m Mark Washington, your CPS worker. You’re at my mother’s house threatening my mother and my children with a knife.” Mark wanted to shout, but he didn’t think that was going to get through. “You need to put the knife down and step away from it. Otherwise, you’re going to hurt yourself and others. You don’t want to hurt anyone, do you?”
“You think I’m not going to use it!” Tracey jabbed the knife at him. “You think I’m a weakling. I’ve never been a weakling, Joe, and I’m going to prove it.”
“I’m not your ex-husband, Tracey.” Mark was close enough to reach out and grab the knife. “Please, just put the knife down. Then we can talk about this.”
For a moment, he thought Tracey was going to put the knife aside and actually do as she was told. There was a flicker in her eyes, which Mark hoped was her saying she was hearing him. Then he heard the sirens. And they were getting closer. Thank God, the cavalry was here now.
That was like flicking a switch in Tracey’s head. Her eyes narrowed and she snarled. As Mark reached for the knife, Tracey yanked her hand back. Mark missed the handle, his fingers closing around the blade. Pain flashed through his hand as Tracey drew the blade over his fingers, and then Tracey lunged at him. Mark grabbed at her, his injured hand going around her wrist, but his feet went out from under him as Tracey’s legs tangled with his. They fell over, landing hard on the grass. Mark’s head bounced off the lawn hard enough for him to see stars. Something sharp stabbed him in the small of his back, and
then he was aware of the white-hot pain in his chest. Tracey was sitting up, her eyes widening in horror as she stared at the knife sticking out of Mark’s chest.
Mark was aware of her getting off him, but she was getting blurry as she scrambled away. Someone was screaming. Mark wasn’t sure who was screaming. Things were turning into white noise in his head, everything going black.
The last thing he remembered was someone touching his face and someone begging him to wake up.
Chapter Eight
He should have been there. Jack was still shaking two hours after being told about Mark’s accident. He should have been there with him to make sure Mark had backup. But he hadn’t, and Mark had gotten stabbed. The doctors were optimistic that he would be fine as the knife had penetrated nearer his shoulder than his heart and hadn’t nicked any vital organs, but that didn’t make Jack feel any better.
He just felt incredibly cold when Rusty called him to give him the situation. Jack barely remembered getting to the hospital, or the wait in the waiting room while Mark was in surgery. Amber and the kids had been there, all of them ashen-faced. Amber was hugging Christy, who was sobbing into her arms until she ended up falling asleep, and Stevie had been standing in a corner, hunched over and staring at the floor. He refused to interact with anyone until Jack went to him and touched his shoulder. Then Stevie was throwing himself into Jack’s arms, sobbing louder than his sister.
They had seen their foster father lying there with a knife sticking out his chest. Jack’s heart broke for them. And for Amber, who looked close to snapping. She had been helping her son out, and she had almost witnessed him get killed.
Rusty told Jack that Tracey had been detained by some neighbors, who had actually witnessed the attack. She tried to fight back but was tackled pretty quickly. Now she was in custody where they were determining if she needed to be in the cells or in a psych ward. Jack hoped the latter and they made sure she never got out.
He could hardly believe that Tracey had actually been a decent person at some point. Not after what she had done. And when she had been raised by a woman enmeshed with her son and condoned his criminal actions, it was no surprise that Tracey had turned out the way she had.