Profile of Fear: Book Four of the Profile Series (Volume 4) (10 page)

“Think I’m afraid of a dwarf?” Bull goaded him in a loud voice so the others could hear his bravado. He dived toward Diego and smacked onto the cement when Diego dodged. As he pulled himself to his feet, Diego took a step backward, flexed his body, angled his striking arm and waited for Bull’s next move.

He didn’t have long to wait. Bull’s fist whizzed by his jaw but slammed painfully into his shoulder. Diego staggered back and got into position. Bull bulldozed toward him and Diego sliced his left arm. It was a superficial wound, but Bull howled in pain as a dark stream of scarlet spilled down his arm.

Furious, Bull rushed him as Diego danced to the right and stuck the knife into his side. Bull went down this time, curled himself in a fetal position, and wailed.

One-by-one, the other boys ran down the alley, trying to get as far away from Diego as they could.

Diego eased up beside Bull and peered down at him. “Are you done, tough guy?”

“Yes. Don’t cut me again. Please.”

“I’ll let you live this time, but the next time you insult me or mess with me, you die. Got that? Same goes for the rest of the Disciples. Make sure you warn them. I’ll take no prisoners. Your blood will stain the street.”

His father celebrated by taking his family out for dinner. He left his family the next day, never heard from again. Thanks to his father’s self-defense lessons, the Disciples never bothered Diego again.

Diego noticed the hallway outside the visitors’ area was empty, so he eased out of his chair and headed toward the kid’s room. Passing the nurse’s station, he noticed a group of them huddled together as if they were in a meeting. Good timing.

A man and a woman who were probably parents visiting their sick child got in front of him, so he moved closer to blend in. He stopped when he got to the kid’s room and slipped in. What he saw made his heart stop. The kid was gone. The bed was made and ready for the next patient. Blood draining from his face, the hair lifted on his nape and arms. What happened to Juan’s little girl? True, he’d spent a couple of hours in the cafeteria. Could the kid have died? Did they move her to another room in the hospital? Had she been discharged?

His heart was beating so fast, he thought it might explode from his chest. There was no doubt. Juan Ortiz would kill him. He’d fucked up and would pay for it with his life. No doubt. Not to mention he’d now put his mother, Rosalita, in grave danger. His mother was wheel-chair bound with M.S. Her life was already a living hell. What would she do without him to care for her? Worst case scenario, he didn’t want her final moments to be a hellish nightmare at the hands of Juan Ortiz.

It was then that he saw the mousy little case worker from Child Services he’d seen outside the kid’s room. Was the little girl alive? Her mother was still in jail, so there’s no way she could have the kid. Had she been placed in some kind of home by the case worker? The answer to that question just might save his life.

Moving to a corner of the room, Diego withdrew his cell phone and called Juan.

“What?”

“Diego here. I have news.”

“If this is about Becca, it better be good news.”

“I think I know where she is.”

“What the hell are you talking about? I thought she was in the hospital and you were keeping an eye on her.”

Omitting the part of the story where he spent two hours in the cafeteria, Diego continued. “Child Services put her in a foster home.”

“Damn it all to hell. We’ll never find her.”

“I have an idea on how we can do just that.”

“It better be good, because right now your life expectancy is looking short.”

“I saw the Child Services case worker. Noticed her name on her badge. Melanie Barrett.”

Chapter Nineteen

The Chase family celebrated Becca’s first month in her new home by having a huge breakfast with cereal, scrambled eggs, bacon, blueberry muffins, cheese grits, orange juice, coffee, and Becca’s favorite: cherry yogurt.

Carly and Kaitlyn had strung colorful balloons across the room and purchased a matching tablecloth. Gabe and Brody dug around in the attic until they found their childhood oak highchair and polished it until it gleamed before they set it at the table.

Cam sat at the head of the table, next to Becca, watching her slip a Cheerio into her mouth and filling her sippy cup with orange juice. A grin spread across his face when she pushed a Cheerio off the highchair tray onto the floor where Godiva snatched it up. Becca giggled and offered a piece of cereal to Cam.

Gabe peered under the table. “Notice how Godiva has strategically placed herself beneath the highchair. She’s no dummy. She can identify food opportunities.”

Kaitlyn touched his arm. “Actually, it’s no surprise because
wherever
you see Becca, you’ll find Godiva. They’ve become close buddies.”

“So I noticed,” said Cam, as he urged Becca to take a bite of yogurt.

“It’s Girls’ Day Out,” Carly announced after a sip of her coffee. “Kaitlyn, Becca and I are going out for lunch at Mollie’s Café after our pediatrician visit to get Becca’s cast removed, and then we’re shopping for toddler clothes, toys, and books.”

“Yay! Shopping!” Kaitlyn clapped her hands and before long Becca was doing the same.

“If you have time, stop by the office, I want to show off my new niece,” said Brody. He kissed Becca on top of her little head and then filled his travel mug with hot coffee. He hugged Carly and rushed out the door.

It occurred to Cameron how much had changed with the two-year-old in just one month’s time. She’d gained six pounds and was now at a normal weight for her age. There were no signs of anemia in Becca’s recent blood tests, and x-rays revealed her fractured rib bones were healing well. The doctor said she was showing no indications of damage from the trace amount of meth initially found in her bloodstream, and the broken bones in her wrist had healed.

Color had returned to her rosy little cheeks, and her naturally curly, flaxen hair tumbled down her back like ribbons of silk. Her eyes, the color of cornflower, were filled with curiosity and mischief.

He’d changed, too. Becca had changed him. Before Becca, he threw himself into his work 24/7, forgoing any time off. It was like he was obsessed with his work. Little else mattered. The job had sucked him in like so many of the law enforcement officers he worked with. How do you spend day after day with death and suffering, and not have it affect you? It’s not like you can scrub it off in a hot shower when you get home.

That was pre-Becca. Now that she was in his life, he strived to be extra careful at work. Not that he was ever careless. But now safety was more important. What would happen to her if he got hurt? That was a question never far from the forefront of his thinking.

Cameron felt a warmth that only love can inspire, and it choked him up. There was so much of that in the room, it made his heart swell. He remembered the first time he laid eyes on Becca. Her arms flailing, crying hysterically, Becca was handed to him by one of his deputies. It wasn’t long before he knew he wanted to be her father and to give her the kind of loving home she deserved. He’d worried needlessly that his family would approve his decision to become her foster dad. She’d become an important member of their family, loved and protected by each of them. Despite the hell her former home had offered the little girl, she seemed happy and loving now.

More than ever, he was determined to adopt Becca to make things permanent. He couldn’t imagine not having her in his life—could not envision not being her father.

Chapter Twenty

Diego turned to Juan, who was sitting in the passenger seat of his car. “That’s her. Melanie Barrett.”

“The mousy one?”

“Yeah, I told you, she’s no knock-out.”

“Where does she get her clothes, Goodwill?”

“Like I said, hot is not a word I’d use to describe her.”

“Prey is more like it,” Juan said with a chill in his voice. “She better be the talkative type. I need to find my kid. Melanie Barrett will help me find her, or regret it.”

Diego had followed Melanie Barrett for weeks, memorizing her schedule and keeping track of where she went in her free time. It was Friday, and on this day she always had a glass of wine with appetizers at the Vineyard Wine Bar on Main Street after work.

“What is this place?”

“New wine bar. They advertise themselves as a funky, modern hangout with wine tasting machines, craft beer, appetizer and gourmet sandwich menu, and live entertainment, standing room only on the weekends.”

“So you’re doing commercials for them now? I’m paying you to follow the bitch, not scope out new wine bars.”

“I got you covered, Boss.” Diego reached across him to get into the glove box and handed him a display ad for the wine bar from a newspaper. “I figured you’d want to know a little about the place if you were going to use it to meet Melanie.”

“Does she meet anyone here?”

“Not that I’ve seen. Comes here alone.”

Juan swiftly changed the subject. “What else have you learned about her?”

“She’s predictable. She works in Child Protective Services. Leaves work anywhere from five to six o’clock, and sometimes leaves her house in the middle of the night.”

The truth was Diego had respect for Melanie Barrett. The woman spent her days and many of her nights helping kids. Just last week, she’d left her house at two in the morning and drove to a house on Jefferson. When she arrived, the cops were already there and were dragging the husband out of the house. When the guy saw Melanie, he struggled to get free to get to her, and ended up spitting in her face before the cops hauled him away. The wife came out of the house on a stretcher, bleeding about her face, chest and arms. Later, after the woman left in an ambulance, Melanie Barrett emerged from the house holding a baby, bundled in blankets to keep it warm.

Diego respected people who helped children. He liked kids and wanted some of his own someday. He’d get married and have a couple of them. Of course, he’d need to find another job. Working for a killer and selling drugs weren’t exactly the ingredients for a good father. He wanted to provide a better life for his kids. But for now, working for Juan paid well, and he needed the money to pay for his mother’s medical care. Rosalita had taken good care of Diego his entire life, and now was his turn to tend to her needs.

He wondered why it was so important for Juan Ortiz to get his kid. The man didn’t have a paternal gene in his body. Hell, he sold women as a part of his business, so why add his little girl to the mix? She’d be better off with anyone but Juan.

This thing with Melanie Barrett was grinding on Diego’s nerves. Juan was a sick sonofabitch who would gut his own mother. How far would he go to get his kid’s whereabouts from the social worker? Diego tried to avoid thinking about that. He’d done a lot of things for Juan that he wasn’t proud of, but none of them included harming a woman or a child. Beating and threatening a lazy dealer who wasn’t paying his dues was one thing. Hurting a woman like Melanie was another.

If it came down to that, he didn’t know how he would handle it if he was asked to ‘persuade’ Melanie to give up the kid’s whereabouts. Refusing what Juan wanted was a death sentence. Harming Melanie Barrett was a prison sentence if he were implicated.

Juan snapped his fingers in front of Diego’s face. “Hey. Did you hear me? I asked you what else she did with her time.”

“She visits a lot of houses. Probably foster homes.”

“Have you seen Becca?”

“No. Haven’t seen any of the kids. She goes inside and comes out about an hour later.”

Juan looked at him as if to decipher whether or not he was telling the truth, making Diego squirm in his seat a little. To someone like Juan, everyone was a liar.

“There’s a used book store on Jefferson. I followed her inside one day. She’s friends with the owner and they talk about romance books. Melanie comes out with a stack of them every week or so.”

“Interesting. So she’s into romance?” Juan nodded, seemingly satisfied. Pulling down the visor, he primped in the mirror like a teenaged boy. And then he straightened his clothing, got out of the car, and headed toward the wine bar.

It was like watching a coyote get into the ring with a lamb. Diego sighed, leaned back in his seat, and hoped Melanie Barrett was not as helpless as she appeared.

Chapter Twenty-one

The Vineyard was a hangout for Shawnee County white collar professionals, standing-room only on Fridays. If there was any chance at all that Melanie Barrett could meet the man of her dreams, this was the place.

Melanie had gotten there early so she could get her favorite table. Her waitress, Edie, had become a friend and put a reserved card on it each Friday until she got there.

“Things are hopping tonight,” Edie announced with a flip of her long hair. “Check out the hot men in here. There is more testosterone in this room than at a Pacer’s game. Got to love it.”

Melanie scanned the room. At least eighty percent of the drinkers were men. Her kind of crowd. The odds were in her favor. She ordered her usual cheap glass of wine, which was all she could afford on her meager salary.

Melanie tucked her over-stuffed tote under the table, grabbed her small handbag, and went to the ladies room to freshen up. Angling up to the mirror, she pulled out a small makeup bag, withdrew her new lipstick, and applied a new coat of rose cream. Next came a layer of rosy blush and a dab of concealer under her eyes to hide dark circles from lack of sleep. Brushing her hair, she stepped back for a better look. No one would say she was beautiful, but she had potential. And the right man would see that. Just like in the novels she read. All she needed was to find Mr. Right. Unfortunately, she’d dressed in a hurry for work and looked disheveled in a faded pink top, black blazer, and long outdated print skirt. It might do for work, but went a long way to repel the interest of a man. Why the hell didn’t she pack another outfit in her tote bag?