Jarod's Heart (King Brothers Stories #2) (4 page)

“Avery is our meth dealer?” Jarod asked incredulously. Avery was an imbecile who failed at petty crime. He wasn’t smart enough to run an operation big enough to fuel the current meth epidemic in Timbisha County.

“Looks that way,” Brad answered, anger emanating off of him like a volcano about to erupt.

No, Jarod didn’t believe it and, apparently, neither did Brad, but they would investigate once the scene was cleared up.

Jarod looked around the property. “Where’s Luanne?”

“She’s sitting in the back of my cruiser.” Brad gestured with his chin in the direction of his parked vehicle. “I needed to separate them,” he explained.

Jarod nodded once, then made his way into the house. Not surprisingly, it was a complete pigsty. It resembled one of those places you see on reality TV, the kind that’s so filthy that you can’t believe it was ever habitable for humans.

His shoes shuffled through fast food wrappers and empty beer cans. There were empty liquor bottles on every surface, broken and dirty red plastic cups that country songs were sung about, and a thick layer of dirt covering it all.

It appeared that every dish Avery and Luanne owned was in the sink, crusted over with dried food and mold. Drug paraphernalia was strewn all over the place, left for anyone to pick up and use. And his nose told him that, somewhere in the house, a toilet was backed up.

As Jarod wandered through the house, he began to notice juice boxes and prepackaged, child-sized deli trays on the ground and on the low tables among the detritus. The hair prickled on the back of his neck.

Searching in earnest, he went down the dim hallway and noticed a door locked with padlock that was high up on the frame. He leaned his head against the door and heard nothing at first, but then he heard it…sniffles.

From his utility belt he grabbed his knife and pried the cheap locking hinge off the doorjamb, effectively removing the padlock. He shoved the door open and stepped into what could have been a child’s room, but instead of a bed there was a nest of dirty blankets and a flat pillow in the middle of the floor. A dirty stuffed animal lay in the center of the pallet.

When he heard more sniffles, he turned his head in the direction of a raised square, probably a small table, covered with a blanket. Jarod knelt down and pulled the blanket back, revealing a small boy in dirty footed pajamas. He was sucking an even dirtier thumb and clung to another filthy stuffed animal. It looked and smelled like he hadn’t had a bath in weeks.

Jarod smiled as much as he could at the pathetic waif and extended a hand. Speaking softly, he said, “Come on out of there now. It’s okay.”

The little boy gulped in some air on a hiccup before he crawled toward Jarod. He was small. Jarod estimated his age at between two or three years.

As he carried the boy out of the house, Jarod glared at Avery. Luanne, sitting in the back of Brad’s cruiser, didn’t even look up when Jarod walked past her carrying her child in his arms.

By then, the ambulance had arrived and there was chaos everywhere. Most of the people were adults and were being treated for minor burns and other injuries. The little boy began to cry in earnest now, frightened by the flashing lights and periodic sirens. Instead of approaching the EMTs, Jarod decided to head to his cruiser, hoping to calm the kid down some before handing him over to Child Protective Services.

The rain had diminished somewhat as the temperature had begun to drop and the heart of the storm front moved in. The car was still warm, but Jarod started the engine to get the heater going again. He used the extra jacket he kept in his cruiser to cover the little boy’s small, shivering frame.

He withdrew his cell phone from his pocket and dialed Lauren’s number. Sure, he could’ve used proper police channels, but, for reasons he didn’t want to examine too closely, he needed to hear her voice, and he didn’t want others listening to his conversation. As her cell began to ring, he prayed that she would answer his call.

“Jarod? Why are you calling my cell?”

Her irritated voice soothed him and made him smile. He glanced at the little guy next to him and said, “Sorry, Lauren. I need you to call in CPS. I found a little boy in the mess out here.”

He described the squalor that the poor child had been living in, holding nothing back. He had her attention now, and he could hear her putting in the call on her landline while he continued to talk to her through their cell phones. That was okay. At least he was having a private conversation with her, and he could hear her voice. Why that mattered he couldn’t say, but he’d known her a long time and it just…helped.

The little boy had been standing on the seat next to him, but now he climbed into Jarod’s lap and rested his head on the man’s chest. The boy’s crying was down to only hiccups now. Jarod rubbed his back while Lauren listened to his story.

“CPS is on their way, Jarod. Is there anything else?”

She was back to being curt, probably realizing that, by calling her private cell number, he’d tricked her into actually conversing with him, breaking her vow of silence. Her sassy attitude usually brought a smile to his face, when she wasn’t annoying him so much, but right now he didn’t want this feud to go on any longer.

“Yeah, actually there is, Lauren.” He cleared his throat before saying, “I’m sorry.”

He waited for a response.

And waited.

“Okay, you’re forgiven.”

He heard her own intake of breath before she asked, “Should I call your mom or something?” There was genuine concern in her voice now.

Relieved that their fight was over, he said, “Nah, I’ll be back to the office as soon as we clear the rest of the people out of the scene. Avery and Luanne will be heading to a holding cell after they’re booked. Brad can’t take them both back in his car, so I’ll wait for CPS to pick up this little guy, and then I’ll haul Avery’s pathetic ass in.”

“I’ll get everything ready for processing.”

“Thanks, Lauren.” He wanted to stay on the line with her a little longer, but he’d run out of excuses to keep her, so he hung up.

Okay, that was awkward.

He sat quietly for a bit longer until his little friend finally fell asleep.

The condition of the house had been a familiar one, reminding Jarod of the last time he’d seen Miranda alive. His beautiful wife had been missing for three days, and he’d been out of his mind with worry. He had just been hired on at the sheriff’s department and his hours were long, so spending a lot of time with his new bride had been impossible, and she had been lonely.

He couldn’t remember what the awful fight had been about, but Miranda had gotten in her car and driven off. He thought for sure that he’d hear from her within a few hours, but that hadn’t been the case. One hour turned into twenty-four, making her an official missing person.

She’d been found three days later when deputies had been called out to a party that had gotten out of hand. She was so high she didn’t even recognize him. The house had been just as filthy as Avery’s was today.

When he’d gotten her home, she had not been too pleased to be back with him. She’d told him she’d found someone else and would be leaving in the morning.

Later, he found out that the “someone else” was her drug dealer. True to her word, she had not contacted him again until the divorce papers reached him by mail. The envelope had a Las Vegas postmark.

He hadn’t seen her in five years and, in his broken heart, he knew he never would again.

LAUREN PLACED HER
cell phone back in her purse and stared at the computer. To her annoyance, talking to him had felt good. Trying to stay mad at Jarod King was like trying to change her DNA—impossible.

The past month had been harder on Lauren than it should’ve been. Now that the silence was broken between them, the tension eased out of her shoulders, and she was able to focus more clearly.

Her self-imposed boycott on Jarod had sounded good a month ago, when her anger had been white hot, but now she realized she’d lost valuable time with him. Jarod was one of the best men she’d ever known, even if he was a little bit broken in the heart department.

But her anger usually led to foolish behavior, and she had foolishly believed that she could erase him from her own heart, like flicking a switch. Being at odds with him had only caused her pain every time she’d been around him, which was daily. It made working with him nearly impossible.

She prided herself on her professionalism, but now she just felt ashamed. One’s administrative assistant must speak to one’s boss, for crying out loud!

Her silent feud had even pushed the boundaries of her professional and personal relationship with Camille. Lauren wasn’t a chef, nor was she all that handy with a glue gun, but she knew how to talk to potential clients, and Camille wanted her to be a part of her team.

Lauren’s feud with Jarod had stressed everyone out.

Her heart had gone out to him as she’d listened to the utter dismay in his voice. The little boy’s condition had upset him. Jarod’s career choice was a noble one, but it meant that he had to deal with people who were at their worst. His innate sense to defend and protect people often put strenuous demands on his emotional well-being, whether he wanted to admit it or not.

She understood what he was going through. Every time CPS showed up to pick up a child, she had to fight back the tears. She understood what it was like for those kids because she’d spent some time with foster parents herself.

Shaking off the gloomy memories of her childhood, she got busy with her work. Unfortunately, Marguerite was hovering nearby, trying to glean information through Lauren’s one-sided conversation with the sheriff.

Lauren understood that by calling her on her cell phone and not going through proper department channels, Jarod had been protecting the little boy, but the news about Avery and Luanne would be out soon enough. They didn’t need Marguerite’s talent for storytelling to move the story along. News got around quickly enough in Timbisha, and it had taken Lauren years to wipe out the reputation her mother had built for her. She would do everything she could to keep Jarod’s trust regarding the little boy he’d found today.

Maybe that
’
s why no one knew what Miranda was really like? Jarod had protected her. She’d have to think about that when she got home. Right now, she needed to get busy.

Two hours later, Jarod and Brad returned to the station with their prisoners. Eli’s shift had ended earlier, but he’d logged in overtime at the Decaturs’ and he would be back again this evening for the night shift. Rookies had the worst schedules. She worried that Jarod was making Eli work too many hours, especially with his wife being pregnant.

She sat at her computer trying to focus, but she had too many unsettled thoughts spinning around in her head. Her distraction was exacerbated by Jarod, who sat at his desk, directly in her line of sight, filling out his part of the reports.

“I think he’s gay.”

“What?”

Lauren turned in her office chair to see Brad leaning against the wall. He was grinning, teasing her. From his vantage point, he could see that Lauren had been gazing into Jarod’s office.

“I’ve never seen him with a woman. He doesn’t even talk about woman,” he puzzled.

Lauren shook her head. “You’re rotten. You know that he’s private, Brad.” She turned back to her computer, trying to ignore him.

“He lives with his parents,” he began to tick off each item on a finger as he began listing reasons for believing that Jarod played for the other team. “He doesn’t date, and he doesn’t even go out. I think the evidence is pretty clear,” Brad stated, a dimple showing in his cheek.

He was being ornery, trying to get her goat, and it was working. Before she could defend Jarod again, Marguerite’s heels clicked across the tile floor to stand next to Brad. She must have smelled blood.

“I agree with Brad. Not once has he ever complimented me. It’s not normal.” She was completely serious.

Brad stifled a laugh at Marguerite’s arrogance behind a choking cough.

“Look, you guys, I’ve known him a long time. He’s not gay, I promise,” Lauren whined, sounding a little too frustrated with them.

What was with these two?

“Answer me this, Lauren: besides that skank he called ‘wife,’ have you ever seen him with a woman? Because I sure haven’t,” Brad smirked, stoking Marguerite’s thirst for blood, who fiercely nodded her head in agreement.