Aftermath (8 page)

“Because I want to hunt down some kid.” The voice was deep. A touch of anger cut through the edge. A crunch of shoes moved above and carried closer. A fine dusting of rock and sand fluttered over her right arm.

She held her breath. The building tingle of a sneeze mounted behind her nose.

“Let me see that.”

More pain radiated through her limbs. Her fingers screamed for a break.

The pull of a zipper split the silence. “Looks like Math, Science.” The crinkle of paper floated on the breeze. “And art. Be a shame to waste all this talent...Ariana Gabriel.”

A book sailed over the fence. Missed hitting her by inches. Landed on the concrete with a wet
thud.
A figure walked to the fence. Dark pants covered large dress shoes.

She didn’t want to look up. Didn’t want to see the moment he discovered her hiding spot. An ice-cold brick of rock hardened around her chest. A ball of dread lodged in her throat. It made breathing a chore. She pressed herself against the concrete until the side of her face ached.

Be aware.

Robbie was always talking about details. The more, the better.

Every ounce of her body wanted to curl into a ball. Instead, she raised her gaze, careful to keep still. A black blazer rested over a charcoal-gray button up. She committed dark hair, with a hint of a cowlick in the front, to memory.

What had her uncle said, exactly? Something about looking for distinguishing marks. Could be something small.

She scanned his face. Beyond chiseled cheekbones and a strong chin, dotted with stubble, she came up empty. He had to be six feet tall. Maybe. Slim.

The edge of one hand slipped again, leaving her with two fingers holding the weight. She didn’t move. Couldn’t have if she tried, even though every muscle vibrated with the strain.

She couldn’t do this. She wasn’t like Robbie and Amanda. Couldn’t face danger and spit in its face.

A siren split the air. Tall man gripped the fence as he turned toward the sound. Bright red rimmed his fingernails. All except one. His pinky finger was missing a nail, the area a pink piece of flesh.

The chain links rattled as he withdrew his hand. “Let’s get out of here.”

The sound of retreating shoes echoed in the ravine. Rivaled by sirens. Her fingers scraped down the wall as she tried to find purchase.

CHAPTER SIX

Journal Entry #82

Age: 13

THIS JOURNAL WAS given to me at a young age.

The proof lies in my indiscernible chicken scratch and the basic compilation of details held in those early pages. I don’t remember who gave me the hard-covered book with hundreds of pages at my disposal.

It’s not important, really.

Maybe someone had no idea what to get me that year for Christmas, knew I was of writing age and picked this baby up last minute.

In any event, this journal was most likely given in an attempt to provide a place for storage of secret thoughts. A place I am supposed to be myself without fear of judgment. I guess I never had that, because when I look back at the tattered pages filled with scribbles slowly growing into loopy swirls with boys’ names and friendships changed, I see half-truths. Details best left under the rug and standard worries for a standard seeming girl.

When you read this—because you will; no journal is ever safe—I wonder what you will think of me. Maybe you will see a normal teen on the cusp of womanhood, but lacking the knowledge it requires to actually be a woman.

Thirteen isn’t a brilliant age. What naivety that remains is product of careful choices or good parenting and maybe a combination of both. And, perhaps, it is none of those things, but luck. Regardless, I think I know enough to survive, if needed.

I have survived this far.

___

WHEN ROBINSON FOUND the men responsible for this, they were going to wish all sorts of things. Maybe even pray for a swift arrest and the safety being behind bars would assimilate.

The fear etched on his niece’s face would likely never be rivaled. Or erased. And the only thing that had stopped him from chasing after men who were long gone was the way Ariana clung to Amanda.

Scratches ran down the length of her arms. A large gash was visible on her cheek. Her clothes were full of mud and she’d lost her yellow backpack somewhere.

She wouldn’t even let them buckle her in a rear seat on the way to the hospital. Hung on as if life depended on it, barely blinking.

So, Amanda had strapped them both in the back seat, Ariana in her lap. Whispered incoherent words as he managed to drive them to the hospital without getting into a wreck.

Got them settled in the ER, where they took an X-Ray of her left arm. The one he’d not noticed was hanging funny. Because he’d been busy concentrating on her uneven breathing.

Gone was the giggling and non-stop talk. In its place hung a blank stare and pale skin.

This wasn’t supposed to happen to anyone. Ever. Certainly not his niece.

“She has a cut on her face. They said it would need a few stitches.” Robinson swallowed back a heavy dose of bile. Stepped aside to let his sister precede him into the ER.

Lilly didn’t say anything.

Nothing new, there.

She pressed her lips together and scanned the crowd of people in the waiting room. Readjusted the colorful scarf that hid a scar, courtesy of a car accident, which had almost taken her life. The cloth looked more like a headband and held back jet-black hair. It matched her Capri pants and flowing shirt.

“Ariana was pretty shaken up. She’s going to need you.”

As if he’d told her she’d be manning a rocket to Mars, a hint of panic bloomed in her eyes. She tucked her bottom lip inward.

Did she understand anything he said? Were they destined to live out their lives in this weird paragon of him pressing her to enjoy a normal life? And her refusal to acknowledge anything or anyone.

Except, in the most inopportune moments.

“Is Amanda with her?” The words came out slow, as if Lilly had committed them to memory a million times and it pained her to repeat the phrase.

“I know you don’t like her, but—”

Lilly’s gaze flashed to him. She readjusted the purse hanging from her shoulder. “I never said that.” Again, the words were well-practiced. Deliberate and almost part automation.

No. She hadn’t said the exact sentence. Instead, a lot of other words had come from her mouth, all mixed up and angry. And aimed at the woman he loved, on a day that should have been a happy memory.

Anger’s dangerous cousin bubbled in his chest, the boiling point the thought of his niece in a blue and white checkered gown.

He didn’t have time for the Robinson reactor meltdown. The one where he told his sister to get out of his house until she could deal with the past, in a manner resembling the woman who’d helped raise him after their mother’s unexpected death.

In this boiling pit of ugly disease, Amanda wouldn’t be spared. Sure, she’d never deserved any of the things Lilly said, but where was his in-your-face detective who didn’t take crap? The woman who would befriend the least deserving individual. Take the worst situation and turn it into something spectacular.

Instead, she’d disappeared when they’d needed her most. When
he’d
needed her most.

He wiped a hand over his face. A blowout of that magnitude would only produce more of the same. He took a deep breath and buried every simmering emotion as far as his keyed up body would allow him.

His niece needed
him
just as much as she needed her own mother. He wouldn’t let her down. Couldn’t bear the thought.

“Amanda coaxed Ariana from hiding in the ravine overpass. And she hasn’t let Amanda leave her sight since. This kind of thing is expected.” How many times had he said something like it to concerned parents?

Your child will return to a semblance of normal. Give it time.

What a load of crap. The phrase tasted like lumpy pencil shavings in his mouth. Thick and unmanageable. All he had to do was swallow. And he didn’t want to. Wanted to spit it back out and rage at whatever manufacturer had promised something far different.

“It’s normal for cops to hang around after saving someone?” Disdain dripped from the sentence.

What did she want from him? From any of them?

Robinson hit the button on the security door leading to the ER bays a little harder than necessary. Wondered if Lilly even noticed his frustration or if she enjoyed spiking his blood pressure at random intervals throughout the day.

He made a slow count to ten. Waited for the bored kid on the other side to answer his call. “In this case, yes. The men who chased your daughter from a crime scene know what she looks like.” He glared at her. “Probably even have her backpack. So, they might know a lot of other things about her. Like where she goes to school. And lives. Who her friends are.”

Lilly’s complexion took on a pale hue. A harsh swallow filled the silence. Her gaze found the checkered floor.

He stuck his tongue in his cheek. He couldn’t win.

The logical part of his brain urged him to apologize for his callous words. Find a way to comfort a woman still struggling to regain her own life.

The words and actions were nowhere to be found. She’d have to deal with it, because he was done playing nursemaid.

“Room number and patient, please.” A male voice came over the intercom.

He bent near it. Kept his voice low. “One-oh-two.”

“Your name?” The voice was full of high-alert, now. Probably because Robinson had scared the piss out of him before he’d left. Made it pretty clear he’d better do his job well, today. Not dink around on the Internet and let whoever he wanted inside the ER.

“Agent Robinson, FBI.”

A loud buzz sounded and the latch on the door opened. He pulled it toward himself and let Lilly pass through first. Ariana’s room was the first one on the right. The door was cracked and revealed Amanda kneeling in front of his niece, who sat on the bed. Her arm was in a sling. Her cheek bandaged. The hospital gown was gone, dirty street clothes back in place.

Robinson rubbed a hand over his jaw. He hadn’t even thought to grab her another set. His focus had been on getting Lilly and returning to the most important little girl in his life.

Some pseudo guardian he made.

The low murmur of Amanda’s voice carried to the doorway as he pushed inside, the words indiscernible.

Her gaze flashed to the spot they stood. One hand reached toward her service revolver. The stark anger there cut through him. Stole his breath and mingled with the craziness swirling in his veins.

Even when her own life had been on the line, he’d never seen so much of the visceral emotion. It settled his tilted axis. Set him on the same even ground.

For this second, he wasn’t alone. Wasn’t trapped making parental decisions with ramifications he couldn’t see, by himself.

Right from the time Ariana had called, Amanda had picked up as if the teen were
her
flesh and blood. Kept herself calm while doing the same for Ariana. And him.

The drive over was a blur of reckless maneuvers.

If he asked her to start over would she accept his offer? Would she stay despite his sister’s off-putting attitude?

Amanda stood. Squeezed Ariana’s non-injured shoulder and nodded toward them.

Ariana’s gaze touched on him, then shifted to Lilly, shock rolling over her features. “Mom?” The syllable was quiet and filled with barely concealed panic. As if she might break into tears any second.

“Oh, honey.” Lilly rushed to her child’s side, taking the place the other woman had vacated. Worry filled her face as she hugged the teen. Ariana hesitated a moment and then wrapped her free arm around her mom.

A tear ran down Lilly’s cheek, the only emotion he’d seen from her since the wedding.

Amanda reached his side, in hesitant, heavy steps. She blew out a shuttered breath of air and faced him. “Her shoulder was dislocated. And the plastic surgeon said the cut on her face shouldn’t scar too badly.” She reach toward him, but stopped, mid-air. Her hand balled into a loose fist and dropped to her side. A trace of Ariana’s blood tracked across her collarbone.

“Come here.” He grabbed a paper towel from the dispenser next to them and tugged her with him, to the sink inches beyond it. “You’ve got blood on you.” He wet the towel and dabbed the reddened area. Her skin was warm against his fingertips.

She followed his gaze. Didn’t move as he rubbed the tissue across her skin. Gave a harsh swallow and refocused on him. “There’s a prescription for pain meds. The doctor already discharged her. I’m gonna head upstairs and check on our vic. The nurses told me Jonas got out of surgery fifty minutes ago. Should be in ICU shortly.”

The ringing in his ears blotted out her words. He paused. He’d heard wrong. “Jonas?”

Her lips pressed together. Sadness gathered in those amber eyes. Right behind the still-blazing fire.