Broken Toy [Suncoast Society] (Siren Publishing Sensations) (6 page)

She’d also packed some amigurumi patterns, little whimsical animals that were always a hit with kids, like dogs, rabbits, alligators, dolphins, and other cute designs.

But not bears.

Never bears.

She had more than enough to keep her busy for a while. At least for the nearly four weeks she’d be there in Sarasota.

If nothing else, I can get caught up on all the donation projects I want to make.

* * * *

As the yarn pulled through Gabe’s fingers, she eventually started ignoring the TV, which she’d tuned to the Weather Channel. Her breathing slowed, her pulse calmed, her mind drifted. She knew it was a form of meditation for her, the only kind of spirituality she felt despite Maria’s best and most painful attempts to beat her draconian version of Catholicism into Gabe.

I’m a Yarnist. I should start my own cult. “All hail the fuzzy and the slubs, the frogged and the finished.”

She mentally giggled at that.

It was, in fact, how she’d gotten Lil Lobo nine years earlier. The day she’d taken charge of a terrified little girl they’d just rescued from a horrifically abusive situation as an accidental byproduct of another investigation they were conducting. One of several children, it turned out, who’d been abused by the perpetrators. Gabe had immediately scooped the girl up in her arms and carried her outside to the vehicle she’d rode to the scene in, where she had her purse.

Inside, a just-finished alligator she’d completed while waiting several hours for the signal to make the approach for the entry. She’d sat with the little girl in the car, air-conditioner running and doors closed against the noise and disruption of the raid, and spied the green amigurumi sticking out of her purse.

Grabbing it, she’d handed it to the child. “You look like you need an attack alligator to keep you company. I was looking for someone to give him to. He really likes to help people by protecting them. Would you like him?”

The little girl, who turned out to be six-year-old Rachel Dunning, victim of parental abduction from a good foster home by her drug-addict parents a few weeks earlier, nodded and clutched the alligator to her.

Gabe never wanted kids of her own, but even she didn’t understand the affinity she had with the little victims she had to deal with on a regular basis.

She wouldn’t question it, either. It was something that made her good at her job, able to break through to kids when sometimes even trained mental health professionals couldn’t get them to open up and speak to investigators about what they’d been through.

After safely shepherding Rachel to the hospital personally and awaiting the arrival of her frantic foster parents, Gabe had finished her official duties for the day and then went home to make another amigurumi.

Another alligator, the only way to get her mind to zone out, to try to not think about the horrific pictures they’d found on a digital camera at the scene, of Rachel and other young children being sexually abused, the pictures being sold online.

The next day Lisa, Rachel’s foster mom, called Gabe and said Rachel wanted to see her. When Gabe arrived at the hospital room, the little girl held a crudely wrapped blob in her hand.

As Gabe approached the bed, Lisa whispered in Gabe’s ear, “She picked it out from the gift shop downstairs and wanted to wrap it herself. The nurses got us some tape. She insisted on doing it. I’ve never seen her so adamant about anything.”

Rachel sat up and waved it at Gabe. “This is for you!” In her other hand, she clutched the crocheted alligator. Gabe had to force the smile to stay on her face as she tried to ignore the bruises on the girl’s cheeks and arms. She knew from the reports and evidence that the child had plenty of other injuries in places no child should ever have to endure.

Gabe sat on the bed and took the present from the child. “Thank you, sweetheart.” She unwrapped it to find a small grey and black stuffed wolf. “I love him! What’s his name?”

Rachel hugged Gabe. “One of my nurses said
lobo
is Spanish for wolf. How about Lil Lobo? Just like your name.”

“That sounds perfect.”

Rachel made her alligator kiss the wolf on the nose. “Now I have Alex to protect me, and you have Lil Lobo to protect you.” She nodded firmly, finalizing it.

Gabe pulled herself out of her thoughts as she finished the current skein she was balling. Rachel was now a freshman in high school, an honor student. Her foster parents had adopted her, and she was one of the handful of friends Gabe had on Facebook. Rachel still had Alex the Alligator and frequently took pictures of him with her in various places she went with her family, such as on vacation to the Grand Canyon.

Likewise, Gabe took pictures of Lil Lobo and sent them so the two animals could continue their long-distance “friendship” over time. Unfortunately, the girl hadn’t emerged emotionally unscathed from her trauma. She dealt with issues such as cutting, and bouts of depression.

But as they’d talked throughout the years, Gabe giving Rachel insights to her own trials during childhood, Gabe knew the girl would eventually be okay.

She put the ball of yarn aside and started on another skein.

Maybe I’ll make some more alligators tonight.

Bill gave thought all the next morning to his discussion with Rob and Laura the night before.

Why
not
go to the class?

As far as he could tell, the private club was operating completely within the law. He suspected the members he’d already met through the course of the investigation would be more than willing to keep his identity a secret.

And it was a fairly innocuous class. Basic rope bondage.

Cart before the horse.
First, he had to make it through dinner with everyone that evening. Depending on how that went, he might decide he didn’t even want to go to the club that night, much less attend next weekend’s class.

He finished his morning workout and headed outside to mow the grass. By the time he was done with the yard work, it was nearly noon and he debated whether or not to cancel going to dinner.

In the bedroom, he stopped in front of a picture on the wall of him and Ella at their wedding and took a deep breath.

He knew she wouldn’t want him to be alone. They’d had this conversation early in their relationship. Just as he’d told her if he didn’t come home one night that he wanted her to move on and be happy, she’d wanted the same for him.

Although, in all truth, he’d never expected to lose her so young, or during what was, by all accounts, supposed to be a routine operation. The agonizing four weeks she’d lain in a coma after her stroke on the operating table were something he hated to think about.

He knew she wouldn’t have wanted to stay hooked up to machines when there was no chance of her ever coming back. It had broken his heart to do it, but he wouldn’t let her body suffer when the essence of her had ceased to exist in the middle of a gallbladder surgery.

Reaching out, he stroked the glass over the picture. “Miss you, babe. Every damn day. I hope I’m doing the right thing. I know I can’t ever replace you, and I don’t want to try. But I know you’d want me to keep moving forward.”

Okay. I need to do it. I need to go.
Resolved, he headed to the bathroom to get his shower.

* * * *

Bill was standing in the restaurant’s lobby twenty minutes before the agreed upon time when Rob and Laura pulled into the parking lot.

They both greeted him with smiles and hugs. “Glad to see you didn’t back out,” Rob lightly teased.

“Well, I almost did. I talked myself into coming.”

Laura touched his arm. “Look, I don’t mean to be forward, but even if nothing else comes out of this, you’ll make a good bunch of friends. You saw how supportive they were for us during…last year.” She nodded. “They’re really good people. You’ll like them.”

“To be honest, that’s sort of what I used to get myself here.” And he had. All through his shower he’d rationalized that he needed more than Dori and Papa Tom, Al and Sue, Craig, and the handful of people who took pity on him. He used to have friends, he and Ella. She had been more the social, and he hadn’t done his part after her death to keep them close once the shock and initial grief wore off. And in his job, there were plenty of days the last thing he wanted to do after work was socialize.

He had more than enough self-awareness to recognize that was all on him.

The hostess led them back to a far corner where several tables had been arranged together. “We’re regulars,” Laura said. “We call them every week to give them a head count and they prepare for us.”

“Ah. Where do you want me?”

She patted the chair next to her and grinned. “We won’t throw you into the deep end of the pool without floaties, I swear.”

“Good to know. I appreciate that.”

Everyone else arrived fairly soon after. Another round of introductions, or reintroductions, as the case was. He’d met pretty much everyone there through the investigation the prior year.

He was also relieved to see no one acted overly wary of him or his motives for being there.

As the meal continued, he was struck by how absolutely freaking normal everyone appeared and acted. He was well aware of the significance of things some of the people wore, like collars, bracelets, and the like.

But if it wasn’t for that, and his prior knowledge of their lifestyle, he never would have assumed anything out of the ordinary about any of them.

It was a welcomed relief to know that his introduction into a more public aspect of this area of his life would be chaperoned by a group of people he suspected he would quickly come to trust.

Hell, he already liked them.

Toward the end of the meal, the conversation turned to the invisible topic at hand. From across the table, Seth Erikkson got Bill’s attention. “By the way, we do have room in our class next Saturday.”

“We’d love to have you,” Leah added.

“I don’t have any…equipment,” he said, glancing around to nearby tables to make sure they weren’t being overheard.

“It’s all right,” Seth assured him. “No special ‘equipment’ needed. We have plenty of extra.”

“I’ll warn you, I’ve never done anything like this before.”

Tony Daniels hooked a thumb toward Seth and Leah. “Then it’s the perfect class to introduce you to it. If nothing else, even if you decide it’s not for you, they’re excellent teachers and you’ll kill a few hours.”

“I’m looking forward to it.”

And if he didn’t lie to himself, he really was. It was nice to have something to look forward to other than yard work.

Hell, it was just nice to have a group of people he could spend social time with who weren’t in law enforcement or the restaurant business.

They were waiting to settle their checks when Rob said, “Oh, you know what? I totally brainfarted on the munch tomorrow.” He turned to Bill. “Did you want to go to that? We’d be happy to go with you.”

“Munch?”

“Our once a month group dinner,” Tony said. “Vanilla, don’t worry. It’s a larger group. This month we’re having it over at Ballentine’s off Bee Ridge. In their meeting room in the back. Starts at six.”

“They don’t mind you doing that?”

“They love it,” Laura assured him. “We rotate between a couple of restaurants. We average thirty or more people per munch. That’s a guaranteed busy night for them, and we tend to tip well. They know what we’re about, but they don’t mind because it’s more than worth it to them, and we’re careful not to disturb any other diners.”

“Who else is going?”

Other than Sully, Clarisse, and Mac, who lived up in Tarpon Springs, it appeared nearly everyone else was going.

He didn’t give himself time to think about it.
Take the damn risk.
“Sure. That sounds like fun.”

* * * *

There were already over a dozen cars sitting in the parking lot when they all arrived at Venture. The club occupied space in a two-story, nondescript warehouse building in an industrial complex east of I-75.

Bill was a little surprised to realize he didn’t feel nervous at all. In fact, a pleasant tingle of anticipation ran through him.

That was something he hadn’t felt in too damn long.

He met up with Laura and Rob in the club’s lobby. Other than some items hanging on the walls and some books for sale, it really didn’t seem very shocking. Hell, a lot tamer than the scattering of adult video and toy stores down in his home turf of Charlotte county.

Stop thinking like a cop. You’re here for fun.

Although it was hard to turn off his cop brain, he was determined to stay several hours, at least, and force himself to do something fun besides sitting in front of the TV and watching History Channel reruns for a change.

Okay, so maybe not for fun, but at least for a distraction. Something to get him out amongst a better selection of the human race than he usually had to deal with as part of his job.

After getting his club membership handled and finding out he had a comped entry that night courtesy of Seth and Leah, Rob and Laura led him to the door.