Fabio's Remorse (Hell Raiders MC Book 5) (9 page)

16

Fabio

With the remnants of dinner cleaned up, Nicole took Tyler to find his pajamas and get ready for his bath, and Ms. Channing started to leave.

"Uh, I know you've been off the clock a while now, but if you have a minute, I'd like to talk to you? Or set up a time to meet tomorrow?" The suspicious bastard in me refused to let go of why someone wanted the Thomas couple to have the kids. Crank knew me well enough to stay put.

"I have time now." Ms. Channing gave a self-deprecating smile. "One of the hazards of social work is no social life." She sat back down at the table, and I didn't miss that she chose the chair beside Crank. "What can I do for you?"

"I talked to the kids on the way over here. Nicole said they didn't even know those people. So that got me curious about who told you to take them there."

Sarah Channing went deathly pale. "What do you mean, they didn't know them?"

I explained to her what Nicole had told me.

She stood, fingers over her lips, even paler than before. "Oh my God. I can't believe that bastard." Her whisper sent a chill down my spine.

"Which bastard?" From Crank's cold tone, someone's future held pain.

Ms. Channing sat back down with a sigh. "My supervisor. He said he'd known Mrs. Blair very well, that they'd even almost married at one point, but he decided he wasn't ready. He'd kept in touch, though, and they both also knew Mrs. Thomas from school. He said he
knew
Alexis would want her kids to be with her lifelong friend."

"What did he say about family? Aren't relatives generally given the first consideration?" I was beginning to get used to feeling as if Ryker slammed me with a knee or elbow. It happened every damn time I turned around in this situation.

"He said the only family to deal with would be Mrs. Blair's estranged brother. He said you'd had no contact with the family for years, and that she would never consider the kids being with you." She looked like she might lose her dinner.

I shrugged. "Who is this motherfucker?"

"Jared Sennit."

I shrugged again. The name meant absolutely nothing to me. "I have no clue who that is. Why would he do something like that?"

Ms. Channing shook her head. "I don't know. I can't even imagine this happening."

Crank sat back. "Well, it's not unheard of. I've read a few articles about similar things, where someone got a kickback for placing foster kids with certain homes, stuff like that."

Nicole's words echoed in my ears again, and my knees went weak at the implication. "She said those people hoped to get a lot of money for taking care of them."

Ms. Channing stood to pace the kitchen. "I've heard rumors, and thought there was nothing to them. I mean, anyone would have to be stupid to do that, right?"

"Do what, Sarah?" Crank's use of Ms. Channing's first name took me back a little. Normally when he turned on the charm to get information from a woman, he used a pet name. Interesting, but I didn't have time to think about it right now.

"To game the system." She stopped and turned to face Crank. "Sending kids to certain foster homes for a kickback is small. The people don't make that much from taking in kids, but if there's high volume, it would add up. And a percentage of that isn't something to sneeze at. But to steer an orphaned child to be placed with a specific person, and orchestrate things for that placement to become permanent, could mean life insurance benefits. A percentage of that could be big."

Cold rage froze my blood. "You think that could be what was happening here?" I could forgive a lot of things, but deliberately keeping a kid from their family in that kind of situation? That pissed me off in a big way.

"I'm just not sure. But it could be."

I turned to Crank. "I'd like to get to the bottom of this, Brother. You didn't sign on for shakin' crooked bureaucrats out of the trees. No hard feelings if you decide to head on home."

"Nah, man, I ain't got nothin' better to do at the moment." He gave Ms. Channing a meaningful glance. "Besides, I kinda like the scenery around here."

"I appreciate it, man."

Nicole came back in. "Tyler's getting his bath. Is it okay if I call Tamara? I'd like to let her know we're home."

I nodded. "First, though, I'd like to find out a little more about those people you stayed with. You up for talking about it?"

She bit her lip, and nodded, pushing her hair behind her ear. "What do you want to know?"

Alerted by her fear, I struggled to keep my cool. Scaring her more would only muddy the waters. "First, I need to know if they hurt you or Tyler, in any way." God help them if they did.

"No, they just scared us. The woman yelled at Tyler when he cried, so I kept him with me all the time, even to sleep. I didn't want her to hurt him, so I made him stay quiet." The whole time she spoke, her voice trembled, betraying the depth of her fear.

I kept my clenched fists out of sight under the table. "What else?"

"The man…" She trailed off and chewed at her lip.

Ms. Channing pulled a chair close to Nicole and sat by her. "It's okay, honey. You're safe now."

Nicole nodded, but tears filled her eyes. "He…he
looked
at me. Like…" She turned to Ms. Channing. "You know?"

Ms. Channing's gaze flicked to me. "Like sexually?"

The tears spilled over and Nicole nodded. "Yeah."

My entire body vibrated with the need for violence. "Did the motherfucker touch you, Nicole?"

She shook her head, and Ms. Channing slipped an arm over her shoulders. "No. He just watched me, all the time. One time I saw him rub his…you know."

The chair fell over when I stood too fast. Crank stood. "Take a deep breath, Brother. She's okay. We got her now."

He was right. And yet, if I'd had the balls to come home, she might never have had to see some twisted motherfucker look at her like that and fondle himself. I took that deep breath. "Okay. I'm good." The pervert wouldn't be walking around much longer. I had every intention of putting a bullet in his twisted head, just as soon as I had the kids safe and settled. It would do the kids no good for me to go off half-cocked and get myself jailed for murder. This would take time and patience.

But Ms. Channing had more questions. "Nicole, what about their daughter? Did you talk to her?"

Nicole brushed her tears away, took a deep breath of her own, and nodded. "Yeah. Her name is Jodi. He's weird with her, always touching her."

"Did she say anything about it?"

"Not really. But she kept asking me if I had a boyfriend, and said she had one, but it was a secret. I thought she was a little slow, or something, you know?"

Ms. Channing rubbed Nicole's shoulder. "Thank you, Nicole. Why don't you go call Tamara now? It's getting late."

Nicole jumped up and rushed to me, wrapping her arms around my waist. "Thank you for coming to get us." When she looked up at me, she reminded me so much of her mother.

I returned her hug. "I'm glad I did, too."

She left, and I turned back to the table. "What now?" I lifted my hands at my sides, entirely unsure which step to take next.

"First things first, man. Get them settled for the night. Lot of shit to take care of tomorrow, and they come first in all of it." As always, Crank's cool head settled my nerves. "And let Sarah do her job."

That part didn't set so well with me. "You mean look the other way? After some bastard put them right in the path of a pedophile?"

"No, don't look the other way. Let Sarah do her job." He turned to Ms. Channing. "Whatever it takes to nail that bastard, we're behind you."

She nodded. "Launching an investigation on Mr. Thomas is going to set off red flags with my boss. It's kind of a scary prospect."

"Do you think he would harm you?"

"I really don't know what to think right now." She sort of hugged herself, crossing her arms over her chest. "I've never even considered anything like this as a possibility."

Crank reached for her hand. "Come on, I'll drive you back to the Sheriff's Office. I need to grab my bike and go back to the motel." The protective way he pulled her toward him suggested he wouldn't be alone back at the motel.

"I'll see you later, Brother. Ms. Channing, thank you." I waved them off, and made sure the door was locked behind them as they left.

Fuck. I looked around me at my sister's home. The warm and homey kitchen definitely had her stamp on it. I turned the light off and went in search of the bathroom, and Tyler. Family portraits lined the hall, along with school pictures of Nicole and Tyler.

I finally found the kid, busily fighting a naval battle in the bathtub with an assortment of toys. "Hey, li'l man. Who's winning?"

He grinned up at me, his dark hair slicked down with water. "The good guys, of course."

"Of course. As it should be. Let's get you out of there. Don't tell your sister, but I think we're a little late for bed time."

I figured I was lucky as hell, because the kid cooperated. Before long, he was dried, dressed in his pajamas, with his teeth brushed. A little shocked with my success, I followed him to his room to tuck him in.

He slid under his covers just in time for Nicole to come in and tell him goodnight. When she left, he turned a serious gaze to me. "Fahv-bio?"

"Yeah, li'l man?"

"When is Momma and Daddy be home?"

Aw, fuck. My heart sank right to the floor. How the fuck had no one explained to him yet? How the fuck do you explain to a five-year old that his parents are dead? "They won't be home, li'l man. They're in Heaven now." Shit, I hoped I wasn't fucking this up too badly.

"Why they go?"

I shook my head. "They didn't want to. They still love you, but they can't be here anymore."

He nodded slowly. "I wish them was."

I brushed his hair back from his eyes. "Yeah, li'l man, I wish they were here, too." I sat with him until his eyes closed and his breathing evened out.

17

Justine

"Justine, will you take Blake down to the office? His mom is there to pick him up." Mrs. Pugh, Kayla, the teacher for my class, asked.

"Of course." I leaned down to speak softly to Blake. "Time to get your things, Blake. Mom is waiting at the office." At twelve years, Blake was our oldest student. His mother picked him up every Thursday to meet with his therapist. I helped him gather his belongings in the exact same way we did every day. After surviving extreme abuse and abandonment as a toddler, Blake became very agitated when things varied from his normal routine.

With all his belongings gathered, I escorted Blake to the office, briefed his mother about his day, and turned him over. One last goodbye hug, then I started back to the classroom.

"The plan is for them to return next week." The familiar voice sliced through me, and I froze right there in the hallway.

"I agree, Mr. Reach. The sooner everything else returns to normal for them, the better."

Mr. Reach? Surely Caleb couldn't be here? Not at the school. My mind raced, calculating how long it had been. He couldn't have school-age children yet. Could he?

"I'm more than a little out of my depth, but it seemed logical. Things are still up in the air with my sister's will, but for the moment, I'm staying with them at their house." His voice melted everything within me, all the parts I'd thought long dead.

I half-collapsed against the wall, trying to ward off the tidal wave of emotion threatening to suck me under. Instinct warned if I gave in, I might never find the surface again. I lost track of the conversation as I tried to steady my breathing and stay somewhat upright.

Footsteps approached from the inner office. "Just let me know if there's anything we can do to make the transition easier. And of course, Mrs. Robinson, the Counselor, is always available." They emerged, bypassing the reception area.

"Thank you. I'll be in touch—"

"Justine? Are you okay?" Mr. Conway, our Principal, peered through his thick glasses with concern.

I forced myself upright. "I-I'm fine." My gaze flew to Caleb, taking him in, barely recognizing him. His expression went stony. "I need to get back." Turning, I fled in the face of his anger.

The staff restrooms were just around the corner, and I made it that far before my numb legs revolted and refused to go further. Thankfully, the ladies' room was empty. My legs went limp and dumped me on my butt under the force of emotion and memory assaulting me.

Hungry for the slightest taste of him, my mind replayed the brief glimpse. His voice had become deeper, rougher, reaching some primal part of me, long repressed. He was bigger, more solid, than I remembered. He now sported tattoos, at least on his forearms. He had aged, and grown, but at least a little of my Caleb remained. The love in his voice when he talked about his sister's children sounded like the old Caleb.

As soon as he saw me, his mouth hardened into a thin line, and pale blue eyes turned icy. Despite all the time that had passed, he still seemed angry at me. Perhaps I was mistaken, though. His words to Mr. Conway replayed in my mind. His sister's will? Did that mean Alexis had died?

I tried to avoid local news reports, since I figured out my attacker's phone calls usually coincided with more attacks. The habit might protect me a little from the intolerable waiting, but I also missed a great deal. Mrs. Pugh usually caught me up quickly, but the past few days had been hectic, with IEP meetings, and starting to coordinate services for next year. But now it seemed I had missed something important.

I sat there in the bathroom, absorbed in the past, the what-ifs, the grief, all of it. The shattering numbness refused to let me cry, even though my heart kept trying to find new ways to implode. Eventually, Mrs. Pugh sent someone looking for me. The high school student who spent one afternoon a week helping out in the office finally found me.

"Miss Carson? Are you okay?"

Shame filled me. I'd left Mrs. Pugh to handle the whole class alone for far too long. "Uh, yes, I'm okay. I think I ate something that didn't agree with me. I'll be right out."

"Okay, let me know if you need anything. Mrs. Pugh was just concerned." The door closed behind her with its usual rasp against the too-tight frame.

The cold water I splashed on my face did very little to bring me out of the shell-shocked state Caleb's sudden appearance put me in. I stopped by the lounge for a soda, hoping the blast of sugar and caffeine might help. Of course, it only left me feeling even more nauseous, and now jittery.

Giving up, I went back to the classroom. Mrs. Pugh looked up with a smile. "There you are. I started to worry you'd had trouble with Blake." She straightened from where she was helping Antoinette practice writing her name. "Justine, honey, what's wrong? You look as if you've seen a ghost."

I forced a smile, not all that successfully. "I'm okay. I think I ate something that didn't agree with me." I went to Romereo's seat and gave him paper and the modified pencil we used to help him write. "Are you ready to work on your name, Romereo?"

The ten-year old grinned and nodded, happy as always, thick curls falling over his eyes.

"Well, you might fool other people with that one, but not me. If you want to talk, I'm here." In her customary way, she went back to her student, leaving me to consider her words.

Of anyone, she knew more of what happened with Caleb, and she knew me better than I liked. I hadn't told her about the attack, only that I'd needed to break it off with him. She guessed correctly that something happened, and that I didn't feel I had a choice, but she didn't press the matter. That was just her way. She figured if you wanted to share, you would, but she never pushed.

I sighed. I might as well tell her. "I overheard in the office that someone I used to know passed away. I don't even know when, or what happened. I just heard them talking about her kids coming back to school."

She looked thoughtful for a moment. "Do you mean Alexis Blair?"

I nodded, unable to speak past the lump in my throat.

"I should have realized you knew her. She and her husband, Simon, were killed in a traffic accident the other day." The sympathetic expression she wore just about undid me. She came over and took my arm, drawing me over to her desk, out of earshot of the kids. "Sweetie, I don't know what happened with you, but I do know it affected you terribly. Have you talked to anyone?"

I shook my head, horrified at the idea. "No. It's nothing. I just changed my mind about a lot of things."

"No, Justine. You might convince a lot of people of that, but not me. You made a sudden, drastic change, and not for the better. And from what I'm seeing, it's bothering you more and more. You know I’m not the sort to pry, usually. But I can't just ignore it, either." She gave me a kind smile. "You need to talk to someone, and not just a friend."

"I can't. I just can't bring it all back up again." Well, except every night in my nightmares. And every time the house made an unfamiliar noise. And every time my mother made some snide remark. Maybe talking to a therapist might not be so bad. "I'll think about it, okay?"

"Okay." She smiled again, seeming pleased at speaking up and actually interfering. "Now, back to Romereo."

The last hour of the day passed in a rush of activity, finishing up for the day and getting the kids ready to head home, so I didn't have time to think about anything. As soon as the classroom emptied and I started cleaning up and getting things ready for tomorrow, it all came back, though.

I couldn't believe how much Caleb had changed. He'd always been handsome, in an all-American way. Now, though, he looked harder, as if he had seen terrible things, and carried the weight of them on his shoulders.

But, no, it was more than that. He'd grown into the sort of man people listened to, or paid the price. Dangerous. That was it. He looked dangerous. What happened to the sweet, good-natured boy I watched go off to war? The heat of his angry glare made very clear no trace of that boy remained.

I couldn't help wondering if that was because of me, of what I'd done. Was I responsible for Caleb becoming the sort of man people feared? No. Surely not. He would have recovered quickly from my betrayal. Other girls always wanted him, and for whatever reason, he chose me. But I wasn't stupid. If he no longer had me, he had plenty to choose from.

With everything finished, I couldn't find a reason to delay leaving. I had to stop on the way home at the pharmacy and the dry cleaners. My mother seemed to delight in finding errands like that for me, ones she knew I could barely force myself to do. She didn't need a reason. Just knowing it hurt me was enough for her.

Locking up, I hurried to sign out, and practically ran across the parking lot to my car. As soon as I locked myself inside, I took my gun from the console, checked that it was loaded, and tucked it into my purse. All nice and handy, just in case some mad criminal decided to rape me again.

At the pharmacy, I ignored the sign on the door that prohibited weapons inside, and went in. The clerk smiled as she handed over Dad's prescriptions and asked me to sign the ledger. I replied automatically, keeping my distance, as usual. I simply couldn't bring myself to be warm and friendly with people anymore.

Finally, I got out of there, and made it back to my car without anything terrible happening. The dry cleaners presented more of a problem. The shop had no parking, so I had to park in the little municipal lot at the far end of the street. And that meant walking two blocks, past other businesses, past an alley.

But the worst part, by far, was passing the game room, where there were always men hanging around the front. It always made me feel like a piece of meat on display. For all I knew, the men who had attacked me stood there watching me go by, waiting for a chance to do it all over again.