Evan (Novella): 3.5 (A Carter Brother Series) (10 page)

“Hey, Evan, it’s me, Kennedy,’’ I start, groaning at how dorky I sound. I fudging hate leaving voicemails. My voice never sounds like me and I hate it. I sound more like a little girl sucking on helium. “I’m heading over to my place. Melanie called and said there was a break-in and the place is trashed. Call me back when you get this.’’

As soon as I’ve ended the call my phone begins to vibrate in my hand causing me to jump. I don’t usually talk on my phone when I’m driving, but when I notice Melanie’s name is flashing on the screen, I answer.

“Oh, Kennedy! Kennedy,’’ she sobs and my heart stops. “I’m so sorry.’’

“Melanie! Melanie! Calm down,’’ I shout, the signal weakening as I drive through a small tunnel.

“She’s gone,’’ she cries down the phone, her voice breaking up.

“Who’s gone?’’ I ask, fear evident in my voice. In my heart I know who she’s going to say, my heart is already breaking, but my head is refusing to believe that this is happening.

“Imogen,’’ she sobs, her cries echoing down the line. And just like that my whole world stops. Staring ahead at nothing is all I do for a beat; I don’t even take a breath. My mind is screaming ‘no it’s not true, this can’t be happening’. She’s a baby. With shaky hands I end the call without a word, not even to comfort Melanie or ask any questions. Nothing feels real. Not the rain pounding on the windscreen, or the sound of my tyres splashing through the rain. Even the radio that is still crackling is like white noise.

Another driver blasts his horn at me, the sound snapping me out of my haze. The car has steered to the right, so I quickly straighten it up before taking in a deep breath.

“Imogen,’’ I cry, a sob ripping free, tears flowing freely down my face. I wipe them away furiously. Now isn’t the time to get upset. She needs me.

My heart cracks a little bit more and I know I can’t do this on my own. I need, Evan. He’s the only person who can help me, who can save Imogen.

Oh, God. He just got her, and now someone’s taken her away from him because of me. Because of my fudging sister. I should have known something was going to happen. I shouldn’t have gone to work like Evan asked me to. This is all my fault.

Slamming my hands on the steering wheel I cry out in frustration and pain. Pressing down on the accelerator the car slowly begins to speed up, the engine groaning in protest. My mind screams at me to slow down, to think clearly, but I need to get to Imogen. I need to do something. She can’t be gone. She’s mine. She’s my baby. It’s not true. It can’t be.

Grabbing my phone again I redial Evan, needing him more than I’ve ever needed anyone in my whole darn life. If anyone knows what to do it’s him. Just dialling his number relaxes me somewhat. I know he’ll do everything in his power to get Imogen back. I just hope he doesn’t hate me when he finds out she’s gone.

“Goddamn it, Evan,’’ I scream, listening to his voicemail once again. “Evan,’’ I sob, hoping he can hear me since my phone keeps beeping, alerting me that I’m losing signal. I feel like I’m about to lose my mind. My hands are shaking wildly as I drive as fast as I can through the streets. “It’s Imogen, she’s gone. Melanie said she’s gone-’’ The phone slips from my fingers because of them shaking so badly, so I don’t get to finish what I was going to say. It falls against my thigh before smashing against something near the handbrake, a choking noise escaping my throat at the sound.

Scared, desperate, and needing him, I try to grab for my phone, not ready to give up. That’s when everything happens. That’s when my whole life flashes before my very eyes and I scream out in a panic.

The car swerves to the left hand side of the road and in a panic to try and control the wheel, I accidentally press my foot down harder on the accelerator. It all happens so fast and before I have time to react I feel the colossal impact. The sound of metal crunching, glass smashing and the sound of my own screams fill the car. Cuts from the shards of glass cut into my face and arms. In a panic I spot blood dripping onto my lap. It causes another mild panic attack. Slowly, with shaking hands, I lift them to my head, wincing when I feel a gash there.

Suddenly everything around me comes to a standstill, the deafening noise of horns blaring and the people’s screams stop. The only sound I can hear is the rain hitting the roof of the car.

Looking around me in a daze I try to think about what happened. Everything seems to be moving slowly. My eyes move to the windshield, squinting when bright lights shine through blinding me.

It takes me a couple of seconds to realise what is going to happen, my eyes widen for a fraction of a second and I brace for impact, covering my head with my arms. I barely have time to reach up before the sickening crunch of metal hits my ears. My whole body is jerked to the right side of the car, my head smashing against the door. Images of Imogen and our life flicker through my mind like a slideshow just before everything turns black, silencing all the chaos that is going on around me.

“You really need to get your head out of your ass,’’ Harris grumbles to the side of me. We’re currently sneaking under some thorn bushes and it’s fucking freezing as hell. Not to mention it’s pouring down with rain and we’re both soaking wet. He tells me to get my head out of my ass but what I really fucking need are my girls, a warm dinner inside me and a chilled beer. But at this moment in time a cup of hot chocolate wouldn’t go a miss.

“Fuck off,’’ I snap, my teeth clattering together. Fuck it’s cold.

“Come on, fucker. Show your face,’’ Harris mumbles as he slides his body towards the farthest end of the bush. Once he’s in position he pulls the camera from behind his back. I follow suit grabbing mine. We’re hoping this new position will finally be able to give us a clear view of who the dealer is.

A dad has hired us to get some evidence against the person who murdered his thirteen year old daughter who died from an overdose. He turned up at our offices giving us all the information he could get on who the dealer is, telling us the police needed more evidence before making an arrest. Most of the information he had was just hearsay, but it did help point us in the right direction. After all, we could do things that the police couldn’t.

We’ve got a team of officers on standby for when we get the money photo, but until then we’re freezing our asses off in the freezing cold. If we don’t get this money photo then we’re basically screwed.

“So, when do I get to meet this new piece of ass?’’ Harris grins and I turn giving him a glare.

“Never, you fucking wanker. And she’s not a piece of ass, you dickhead,’’ I whisper yell across to him. Gritting my teeth, I warn him. “And if you call her that again, I’ll punch your teeth down your throat.’’

He chuckles, not bothered by my outburst. “Oh yeah? So no chance of tag teaming?’’ he asks and I lose my shit. I’m about to put him on his ass, well up on his feet so I can put him on his ass, when he gives me the signal, his features turning serious. Looking through the lens of my camera I suck in an audible breath before snapping picture after picture, wanting to make sure I get the whole encounter.

“Fuck me,’’ I breathe.

“Holy fuck!’’ Harris curses. Wasting no time he grabs his phone and calls it in. Just as he puts the phone down my own phone vibrates in my pocket, reminding me that I have a voicemail that’s been left unanswered. It got left around half an hour ago. I’d been too busy with the job to even look at the screen to see who it was, so I’m hoping it’s nothing important.

“Got him,’’ I grin as I snap another photo of the bloke the dad is accusing of selling bad drugs to his daughter.

I’m about to turn around to call out to Harris but the little fucker has snuck up on me instead. We end up smacking our knuckles together and grinning like two fucking idiots. It’s jobs like this one that helps me remember why I do what I do for a living. I fucking hate scumbags like this deadbeat who sell drugs to kids like it’s a respectable living. Not caring about the consequences of his actions or if the buyer is underage. They’re the lowest of the low.

“Let’s go,’’ he grins.

I grin in return, thankful to be able to get home to my girls. Thinking of my girls I grab my phone out of my pocket.

I’ve never had to consider anyone when I’m working. Whenever I’ve gotten phone calls or messages during a job I’ve always presumed it was my boss or someone else on the case. With the girls moving in it should have crossed my mind that it could be Kennedy that called me.

Looking down at my phone it blinks with two missed calls from Kennedy and one from an unknown number.

Fuck’s sake. First time back at work, she calls me and I don’t fucking answer. She could need something and I wasn’t there for her. What a way to show her I’m reliable.

Walking to the car I click on the voicemail that Kennedy left me, smiling when I hear her voice. My smile soon falls when I hear what she says.

“Hey, Evan, it’s me, Kennedy,’’ she says pausing and I have to chuckle at how awkward she sounds. “I’m heading over to my place. Melanie called and said there was a break-in and that the place is trashed. Call me back when you get this.’’

“Fuck!” I hiss. She better not have gone there. It could be a trap or worse, it could be a warning. She doesn’t need to see the mess her place is in, or see any surprises that could be left. I feel like a bigger wanker now for not answering.

“What?’’ Harris asks, looking at me curiously.

“We need to go. Kennedy’s place got broken into and she’s heading over there,’’ I tell him quickly. I’m torn over listening to the next voicemail or calling her back and telling her to wait for me to get there. But then she could have left another voicemail telling me that everything’s okay.

The sick feeling that’s been churning in my gut all fucking morning comes back, so I hit number one on my phone to listen to the next message.

“Evan,’’ Kennedy cries frantically down the phone and my heart fucking stops. I’m running over to the car as fast as my legs will take me when her next words have me crumbling to the floor. “It’s Imogen, she’s gone. Melanie said she’s gone,’’ is all she manages to say before horns blare, deafening me, glass smashes and tyres are screeching through the phone.

Fuck no! Please, fuck no!

“Kennedy! Fuck, Kennedy,’’ I shout, not caring that she can’t hear me. The voicemail cuts off leaving me with nothing more.

Getting up off the floor I race to the car, thankful Harris hadn’t seen my fall and had carried on to the car. The car is running when I jump into the passenger seat. It’s not until I’m sitting in the front that I realise I have no clue what the fuck I’m doing.

Kennedy has been in an accident, if it was an accident, and Immy has gone missing. I wish like fuck I could rip myself in half. Then one could run to Immy and one could get to Kennedy.

“We need to go to the hospital,’’ I tell him trying to keep my calm. I feel his eyes on me so I turn to see his look of concern. He must see I’m deadly fucking serious because I’m jerked back into my seat as he speeds off.

I’m glad I programmed Melanie’s number into my phone this morning. I had wanted to make sure she had a way of contacting either me or Kennedy if anything happened. Really, I just wanted to check in on Immy throughout the day, but I haven’t been able to get five minutes. I wish I had made that five minutes happen, at least then I might have been able to do something.

I’m just hoping Kennedy’s mistaken and Immy isn’t gone, but in my gut I know it’s true. I can somehow feel it. It’s the same feeling I’ve had since I woke up this morning. I thought it was about the job I knew we would be on today. If I knew my girls would be at risk I wouldn’t have let any of us leave the house.

“Oh my God, Evan. Kennedy hasn’t arrived yet and I’m beginning to worry. She should be here. The police keep asking me all these questions and I don’t know anything,’’ Melanie cries, her voice hoarse. “I’m so sorry. So fucking sorry.’’

“Miss, we need you to answer some more questions,’’ someone in the background asks stiffly.

Prick.

He could be more sympathetic. A child has been taken and it’s clear Melanie is hysterical and needs calming down. Making her answer the same questions over and over will just cause her anxiety to increase.

“No, I don’t. I need to answer the father’s questions. He needs to get his little girl back,’’ she snaps sniffling. I find myself respecting her in that moment, but hearing her say ‘father’ and ‘his little girl’ causes my chest to tighten.

I’m trying my hardest to keep my cool, I really am, but fuck, she’s my little girl and I’ve just got her. She’s out there with complete strangers and they’re doing fuck knows what. This morning she hadn’t been in the best of moods because her teeth were bothering her. The fact she’s in that mood and with people who don’t know anything about her spikes my anger.

“Melanie, I need you to calm down for me. What happened?’’

“I went over to Kennedy’s to get Imogen’s music pen, hoping it would settle her down, and when I got there Kennedy’s place was a complete mess. I quickly called her and she told me she was on her way. I was going to see if the pen was still in working order. I swear; I was gone two minutes tops. When I got back home Imogen was gone. Just gone.’’

My heart sinks and my hands clench into tight fists. I want to kill someone. I know who did this but I need to have some sort of proof. I begin punching the fuck out of the dashboard, not able to hold in my anger any longer. The pain in my fist does nothing to release the aggression inside me, it only fuels it more.

“Evan! Fuck! Calm the fuck down,’’ Harris shouts across the car, his arm smacking me in the chest and holding me back. I breathe heavily, my chest heaving. Melanie says something down the phone that I don’t quite hear, but it’s enough to bring me back to the present.

“Okay. Okay,’’ I say shaking my head and running my hands through my wet hair. “Did you see anyone unusual? Someone you’ve not seen before that seemed curious with you or Kennedy’s place?’’ I ask, my academy training finally sinking in.

“I... No...Oh, no wait. There was a guy yesterday knocking on her door for a good twenty minutes. He had a scar down his face. I also noticed him this morning outside just before you guys turned up. I didn’t think anything of it. God, this is all my fault. That poor little baby. What have I done?’’ she sobs and my heart breaks knowing all too well who she is on about.

“This isn’t your fault, Melanie. You’re lucky you weren’t there to get in the way. He would have killed you,’’ I tell her honestly, thinking back to his rap sheet. He’s brutal. We’ve never been able to get any charges to stick though. When I went to the station he was smug. He knew we couldn’t charge him because of his tight alibi.

“You know him? You can get her back? Where is Kennedy?’’ she asks somewhat calmer.

“I think she’s been in an accident,’’ I tell her, pinching the bridge of my nose. I’m torn about what to do. Find my girl or go to my woman. As soon as I’ve checked to make sure she was indeed in an accident and is okay, I’ll go home and find everything I can about this son of a bitch. He’s going to wish he never messed with Kennedy or Imogen when I’m through with him.

“Oh, my God. Where? I’ll be there...’’

“Miss, you can’t leave,’’ an officer tells her.

“Melanie, I have to go. We’re just pulling up at the hospital. Stay where you are and I’ll call you when I find anything out,’’ I tell her.

“Okay, okay,’’ she rushes out and I end the call. Harris turns to me with worried eyes, but I don’t wait around for his questioning. The car is still moving when I remove my belt and jump out of the car. Harris honks his horn and shouts obscenities out of the window but I ignore him, jumping over the bonnet and rushing through the emergency doors.

“Hi, I’m detective Smith. My fiancé, Kennedy, I think she was in an accident around half an hour ago. Can you tell me if she’s here?’’ I ask the receptionist frantically. She looks at me with a sad smile and I want to snap at her to hurry the fuck up, I haven’t got time to waste.

“What’s her name, sir?’’

“Kennedy. Kennedy Wright.’’

She types quickly onto the computer but then a man with a white lab coat walks around the desk looking at me. My eyes meet his and I know in my gut it’s bad.

“Are you a relation to, Miss. Wright?’’ he asks, putting his hand up to the receptionist to stop her search.

“Yes, I’m her fiancé.’’ I lie easily and I do it because I know it won’t be long until she does have a ring around her finger and is taking my last name.

“Your fiancé was brought in not long ago with severe head trauma and multiple injuries,’’ he starts and I follow him as he takes me down a long corridor. Out of nowhere Harris is standing next me and, if I’m honest, I’m thankful that he’s here. There’s only so much I can take before I explode again.

“Is she okay?’’ I ask when he stops short suddenly.

“It’s too early to tell. She has a broken leg, fractured ribs and a lot of cuts and bruises. At this time we’re concentrating on her head injury. Her broken leg won’t be put in a cast until the swelling reduces considerably. We’ve managed to clean up all her scrapes and wrap up her ribs. Her head is another matter right now. We’re waiting for the CT scan room to open up so we can send her down. Once we have the results we’ll be able to tell you more about her diagnosis.’’

I groan into my hands suddenly feeling sick. She needs to be okay. She has to be. She has Imogen to look after. I need her. Imogen needs her.

Fuck! Imogen.

The doctor opens the door to a private room and gestures me inside. I wish he had prepared me more for what I’m about to see because as soon as I see her small, fragile frame lying down on the bed, broken and bruised, I collapse to the floor on my knees. I’ve seen crimes that will make people sick to the stomach, been called out to scenes that have been horrific, but nothing could have prepared me to see someone I’ve come to love lying helplessly in bed, not knowing if she’s going to be okay.

I’ve never seen her look so vulnerable. Not even the time I turned up at her flat and she had been attacked.

Her head is swollen, cuts and bruises swelling her face further. She’s unrecognisable. The pounding in my chest tightens and I feel like I’m suffocating.