Summary:
Carter Schunk is a dedicated police officer with a difficult past and a big heart. When he’s called to a domestic disturbance, he finds a fatally injured woman, and a child, Alex, who is in desperate need of care. Child Services is called, and the last man on earth Carter wants to see walks through the door. Carter had a fling with Donald a year ago and found him as cold as ice since it ended.
Donald (Ice) Ickle has had a hard life he shares with no one, and he’s closed his heart to all. It’s partly to keep himself from getting hurt and partly the way he deals with a job he’s good at, because he does what needs to be done without getting emotionally involved. When he meets Carter again, he maintains his usual distance, but Carter gets under his skin, and against his better judgment, Donald lets Carter guilt him into taking Alex when there isn’t other foster care available. Carter even offers to help care for the boy.
Donald has a past he doesn’t want to discuss with anyone, least of all Carter, who has his own past he’d just as soon keep to himself. But it’s Alex’s secrets that could either pull them together or rip them apart—secrets the boy isn’t able to tell them and yet could be the key to happiness for all of them.
Donald (Ice) Ickle has had a hard life he shares with no one, and he’s closed his heart to all. It’s partly to keep himself from getting hurt and partly the way he deals with a job he’s good at, because he does what needs to be done without getting emotionally involved. When he meets Carter again, he maintains his usual distance, but Carter gets under his skin, and against his better judgment, Donald lets Carter guilt him into taking Alex when there isn’t other foster care available. Carter even offers to help care for the boy.
Donald has a past he doesn’t want to discuss with anyone, least of all Carter, who has his own past he’d just as soon keep to himself. But it’s Alex’s secrets that could either pull them together or rip them apart—secrets the boy isn’t able to tell them and yet could be the key to happiness for all of them.
Summary:
Fisher Moreland has been cast out of his family because they can no longer deal with his issues. Fisher is bipolar and living day to day, trying to manage his condition, but he hasn’t always had much control over his life and has self-medicated with whatever he could find.
JD Burnside has been cut off from his family because of a scandal back home. He moved to Carlisle but brought his Southern charm and warmth along with him. When he sees Fisher on a park bench on a winter’s night, he invites Fisher to join him and his friends for a late-night meal.
At first Fisher doesn’t know what to make of JD, but he slowly comes out of his shell. And when Fisher’s job is threatened because of a fire, JD’s support and care is more than Fisher ever thought he could expect. But when people from Fisher’s past turn up in town at the center of a resurgent drug epidemic, Fisher knows they could very well sabotage his budding relationship with JD.
JD Burnside has been cut off from his family because of a scandal back home. He moved to Carlisle but brought his Southern charm and warmth along with him. When he sees Fisher on a park bench on a winter’s night, he invites Fisher to join him and his friends for a late-night meal.
At first Fisher doesn’t know what to make of JD, but he slowly comes out of his shell. And when Fisher’s job is threatened because of a fire, JD’s support and care is more than Fisher ever thought he could expect. But when people from Fisher’s past turn up in town at the center of a resurgent drug epidemic, Fisher knows they could very well sabotage his budding relationship with JD.
Summary:
Brock Ferguson knew he might run into his ex-boyfriend, Vincent Geraldini, when he took his first job as a police officer in Carlisle. Vincent's attitude during a routine traffic stop reminds Brock why their relationship didn't last.
What Brock doesn't expect is finding two scared children in the trunk of a Corvette. He's also surprised to learn the kids' mother is Vincent's sister. But his immediate concern is the safety of the two children, Abey and Penny, and he offers to comfort and care for them when their mother is taken into custody.
Vincent is also shocked to learn what his sister has done. For the sake of the kids, he and Brock bury the hatchet-and soon find they have much more in common than they realized. With Abey and Penny's help, they grow closer, until the four of them start to feel like a family. But Vincent's sister and her boyfriend-an equal-opportunity jerk-could tear down everything they're trying to build.
Original Review June 2015:
From the moment Carter finds the scared little boy who is locked in the attic, you can't help but fall in love with little Alex and his rescuer too. Once again the author takes a very tragic crime and create characters and a story that warms your heart and helps to remind us that the risk of a broken heart is well worth opening your heart. Without taking that risk the only thing you're guaranteeing yourself is that your heart will harden and you'll end up alone. Donald has his reasons, or at least reasons he sees as worth it, for hardening his heart but with the help of a former one weekend stand and a damaged little boy he begins to realize that he's been living a very solitude lifestyle and that's not really living at all. As is with many series where each installment centers around a different couple, I had a little trouble at first letting go of Red and Terry from Fire & Water but it only took less than a chapter for me to get hooked on Carter, Donald, and little Alex.
Fire & Snow #4
Original Review May 2016:
Once again, the cops of Carlisle are the officers of the law that we all want protecting our own town. They are smart, brave, careful but they also go that extra mile to do their job. In Fire & Snow, we have JD, a man who was virtually thrown out of his family for being a good man who stayed true to himself, and then we have Fisher, a man who had his life turned on it's head after a car accident but has the determination to keep going forward. When they meet, Andrew Grey has once again showed us that one person truly can change the lives of many. Technically, Carlisle Cops is a series of standalone reads since each entry focuses on a different couple but personally, I highly recommend reading them in order because the cops and their partners are often in the next installment, sometimes only as cameos, but they are still mentioned so I find it just flows better to read in order. A series that has earned it's spot in my series library and one that will also find it's way to my re-read shelf in the future.
Fire & Hail #5
Original Review January 2017:
I love Andrew Grey's Carlisle Cops series, they're fun, dramatic, loving, sexy - basically everything you hope for in a contemporary romance. Throw in some kids and it just adds another layer of realism that tugs at your heartstrings. Abey and Penny are absolutely adorable, how can you not fall in love with them as much as Brock does? You definitely should have a box of tissues handy, you don't want to short out your ereader from falling tears. And you will have a few tears, tears of heartache, tears of sadness, tears of laughter, and tears of joy.
Former loves reconnecting can be tricky to convey, especially when the breakup might not have been for the best. You need to understand and believe why the connection is still strong as well as why it took so long to meet up again, the balance has to be just right and Andrew Grey has created a very realistic blend with Brock and Vincent in Fire & Hail. Once Brock unlocked the trunk and found two pairs of innocent eyes staring back at him, I was hooked. There was no way I was putting my Kindle down until I reached the last page. Forget eating and sleeping, I just had to know their journey.
Each book in the series can be read as a standalone but I highly recommend reading them in order. The ins and outs of the secondary characters from previous entries just make the flow of each story run smoother.
RATING:
Author Bio:
Carlisle Cops
Carlisle Deputies
Former loves reconnecting can be tricky to convey, especially when the breakup might not have been for the best. You need to understand and believe why the connection is still strong as well as why it took so long to meet up again, the balance has to be just right and Andrew Grey has created a very realistic blend with Brock and Vincent in Fire & Hail. Once Brock unlocked the trunk and found two pairs of innocent eyes staring back at him, I was hooked. There was no way I was putting my Kindle down until I reached the last page. Forget eating and sleeping, I just had to know their journey.
Each book in the series can be read as a standalone but I highly recommend reading them in order. The ins and outs of the secondary characters from previous entries just make the flow of each story run smoother.
Fire & Ice #2
CHAPTER ONE
“SO YOU finally convinced the captain to let you go out on patrol,” Red said as he sat down across from Carter in the police department breakroom, which was in dire need of renovation. Carter accepted the cup he offered with a smile. “It took you long enough.”
Carter Schunk grunted. “No kidding. As soon as everyone found out I had computer skills, they seemed determined to keep me locked away in the basement behind a terminal doing their investigative work while they got to go out in the world. I’m a trained police officer and I went to the academy just the same as they did.” Carter sipped from his cup to cut off the diatribe that threatened to take over. He took a deep breath to calm down, but it wasn’t working. Just this afternoon he’d gotten requests for simple Internet searches that he’d been told were so important his patrol duty had been delayed until the evening so he could get them done. It pissed him off—the officers could do those searches themselves—but he shouldn’t be taking it out on Red. “I appreciate that you’ve been in my corner.”
“Always will be, bud.” Red flashed him a quick smile and then it was gone. Carter knew Red was still self-conscious about his teeth, so he rarely smiled for very long. His real smiles seemed to be reserved for Terry, his swimmer boyfriend, who was training for his chance at Olympic gold next year. “Everyone deserves a chance.”
Carter snickered. “You know you’ve turned into a real sap over the past few months.” He backed away, expecting Red to take a good-natured swipe at him. Red was huge—tall and wide—easily the biggest man on the force. He’d been in an accident as a kid, and while Terry had worked with him in order to help Red feel better about his looks, Red still sported the visible scars from that accident. “Not that it wasn’t well earned.” Hell, Carter would turn into a lovesick sap like Red if it meant he had someone like Terry to come home to each night.
Red finished his coffee and tossed the paper cup in the trash. “Are you ready?”
Carter gulped the hot liquid and then tossed his cup as well before following Red out of the breakroom. He checked out a patrol car and got inside. Red stood outside his window as Carter excitedly went over everything in his mind. He’d done this before, but it had been a while and it felt damned good to be a “real” cop again instead of the computer geek in residence. “I’m all set.”
“Good.” Red patted the doorframe twice. “I’ll be out there as well. You call if you need anything. Hell, call if you think you need anything. I’ll be there.”
Carter chuckled. “Thanks.” Red had become a good friend over the past six months. Before, he’d always kept to himself, but since Terry had entered his life, Red had blossomed into a happy man. Truthfully, Carter was jealous of what they had, but not of Red. It couldn’t have happened to a nicer guy. Carter just wished it would happen to him.
He started the engine and pulled out of the lot with Red following behind. Carter’s area of patrol was the north end of Carlisle, so he turned in that direction and drove up Hanover Street before turning onto East Louther and slowly making his way through some of the rougher areas of the borough, making his presence known. Often just being out and about in some of these areas was enough to quell trouble. Tonight did not seem to be one of those nights. Almost immediately a report of a home invasion came over the radio. Carter’s heart raced as he radioed that he was responding, flipped on his lights, and sped up. He’d been just a street away and arrived as two men were carrying a flat-screen television out a passageway between two row houses. As soon as they saw Carter, they dropped the television, took off, and got into their truck. Another patrol car came up the street from the other direction, boxing them in. Carter heard Red’s voice boom over the street, and the men got out of the truck and lay down on the concrete facedown, as commanded. It was over almost as soon as it started.
He and Red cuffed the men and read them their rights as other units responded. Statements were taken from the homeowner, with Carter adding what he’d seen. Then the men were transported back to the station. “I’ll handle the paperwork,” Red volunteered. “Go keep the streets safe.” Red winked, and Carter went back to his car and headed out.
The next few hours were quite normal and dull. Carter had forgotten how patrol could be: hours of waiting and watching around moments of excitement.
“Domestic dispute 100 block of East North,” the dispatcher said over the radio.
Carter stifled a groan and responded. Domestic calls were the worst. Half the time it was nothing, like neighbors calling in because the people in the next unit were yelling too loudly. Most of the rest were people in need of help, but often they refused to press charges. Those were the most frustrating for everyone on the force. Carter pushed that from his mind, going as fast as he dared, reaching the house within minutes.
There was little doubt what had prompted the call. As soon as he opened his car door, high-pitched screaming rattled his spine. It seemed to be coming from inside the open-windowed row house. Carter called for backup and sprang into action. It sounded as though someone was being injured. Sirens blared in the distance and patrol cars arrived, blocking the street. Carter explained what he’d heard and the screaming began again, this time louder and more frantic. Officers spread out, and Carter headed to the front door. “Police,” he yelled and tried the knob. The door opened, and he rushed inside, weapon at the ready.
Carter heard other officers enter from the back. He quickly cleared the front rooms and the others the back. The house was quiet now, and Carter motioned toward the stairs.
“Get out of my house!” a man yelled as he barreled down the stairs, red faced, eyes glazed over in rage.
“Down on the floor now!” Carter yelled forcefully and pointed his weapon at him, finger on the trigger. The man reached the bottom of the stairs, and Carter wasn’t sure he was going to stop. His finger began to move against the trigger. His training kicked in. “Get down!” he yelled again, and the man stopped and dropped to his knees. Carter inhaled and released his finger from the trigger, but stayed alert. There was at least one more person in the house—this guy wasn’t the person he’d heard screaming.
One of the other officers cuffed the man as Carter began climbing the stairs. He stayed close to the wall, gun in his hand, ready to defend himself. He reached the top of the stairs and heard crying. The officers behind him spread out, checking the other rooms while Carter moved toward the sound. He pushed open a partially closed door and gasped.
A woman lay on a bed twisted in dingy sheets, nearly naked, rocking her head back and forth as she cried, clutching the mattress. Carter took in the room quickly. Pills sat on the nightstand in a baggie. “Ma’am, are you all right?” Carter asked, but she just kept crying and rocking her head on the bed.
“Call an ambulance,” Carter said over his shoulder.
“Already did.”
Carter turned quickly, making sure he knew who was behind him. Aaron Cloud was an investigator on the force, and Carter instantly felt more comfortable knowing he was here. Aaron was an experienced officer and a man who believed in supporting his fellow officers, especially the newer ones.
“They’re on their way.” Aaron stepped around him to the woman. “Go ahead and check out the rest of the house. I’ll stay with her.”
Carter nodded and left the room.
“There’s no one else here,” Kip Rogers, another patrol officer, told him.
Carter nodded and began peering into the other rooms. They were mostly empty, but something in the corner of one of the bedrooms caught his eye. Carter stepped inside carefully. The house was a wreck, with torn carpet, damaged walls, and grimy paint that must have been applied decades earlier. He scrunched his nose at the urine smell from the carpet and bent to examine what he’d seen.
A small brown stuffed bunny lay in the corner of the room. Carter looked at Rogers and then pulled a glove out of his pocket. He put it on and picked up the toy. One of the ears flopped down while the other stood straight up, and the bunny smiled at him in complete contrast to this place.
“What are you thinking?” Rogers asked.
Carter set the stuffed toy back where he found it and pulled open the closet door. A pair of small shoes lay jumbled in the corner, and a pair of tiny jeans and a sock rested on the dirty carpet. “Is there a kid here?” Carter whispered to himself and then turned to Rogers. “We need to make sure there isn’t a child somewhere in this mess.”
Rogers looked in the closet and then at Carter. “That stuff could have been there for years.”
“Maybe, but we need to make sure we’ve checked everywhere.” Carter left the room and went back into the tiny hallway. “Could you make sure the basement has been searched? I’m going to see if there’s an attic.” He began opening doors but found no stairs.
The ambulance arrived and Carter got out of the way so the EMTs could pass. Then he went into the last bedroom. It had a bed with a bare mattress and nothing else. Carter opened the closet door, but it was empty. There couldn’t be much attic space in the house, but he knew many of them had some. He then went back in the master bedroom and pulled open the closet. Pushing the clothes aside, he found what he was looking for: a set of stairs that went upward.
“What are you doing?” Aaron asked.
“Checking everything.” He turned on his flashlight and carefully entered the space. The stairs curved and he had to bend so he didn’t hit his head.
The smell was the first thing to assault him, and Carter had to stop himself from gagging repeatedly. It got hotter as he climbed, and the air, God—his eyes watered and he half expected to find something or someone dead. As he reached the top of the stairs and peered into the space, he nearly jumped back when someone looked back at him. Almost instantly he heard scrambling. Carter shone his light in that direction and gasped.
A small bed had been pushed against the far wall, if you could call it a wall. More accurately, it was the roofing studs. A small pile of clothes sat nearby.
“It’s all right,” Carter crooned. “I’m not going to hurt you, I promise.”
Whimpering reached his ears, and Carter followed the sound. As he got closer to the bed, a tiny head popped up from behind it, and huge eyes filled with terror looked back at him.
Carter could hardly breathe as the realization of what he was seeing hit him. This was a child—a little boy, by the looks of it. “It’s okay. I’m Carter and I’m here to help.” Sweat ran down Carter’s back, and he wondered just how long the boy had been up here. From the smell, long enough to have needed to go to the bathroom and not have a place to go. “I promise.” Carter had seen plenty of shitty things in his life and heard even more at the police department, but this…. His throat went dry and fuck if he didn’t want to cry at the sight. But he held it together and slowly extended his hand. “It’s okay.”
“They were yelling,” the boy said without moving.
“Yes,” Carter said. “But it’s okay now. They aren’t yelling anymore.” Carter wanted to get a better look at the kid, but he didn’t want to shine his flashlight light in his eyes. He glanced up to see if there was any light in the space other than the tiny window in front, but saw nothing at all. “Please come out. I promise it’s okay.”
The boy began to stand.
“What did you find?” one of the other officers called up the stairs, and the boy skittered back behind the bed. Carter swore under his breath.
“Just a minute,” he said back without raising his voice. The last thing he wanted was half the police force up here scaring the kid even more than he already was. “It’s okay. He’s just a loudmouth.”
“He yelled,” came a muffled reply.
“It’s okay. He was just talking loud. I promise.”
The boy lifted his head and slowly stood up. He wasn’t very tall. Carter waited for him to climb on the bed and then lifted him into his arms. “What’s your name?”
“Piece of shit,” he answered seriously. Carter needed like hell to get out of there, but was rooted in place by his answer.
“Is that all they ever called you?” Carter’s eyes watered and his throat was starting to burn. And the heat—how could this little boy stand it up here?
“Mommy called me Alex sometimes.”
“Then we’ll call you Alex. That’s a nice name.” Carter held the boy closer, carrying him toward the stairs. He placed his hand on Alex’s head and descended slowly out of the attic. Alex trembled in his arms the closer they got to the entrance to the attic. “It’s all right. No one is going to hurt you.”
“He said I was to stay there,” Alex said and then began to cry. Carter thought he was going to cry right along with him. Jesus, maybe he wasn’t cut out for this and should have stayed behind his computers.
“Well, I’m here now and I say you can leave.” Carter bent nearly in half to get through the door and then squeezed into the closet and finally the bedroom. Various sets of eyes turned to him in near astonishment. Carter said nothing. He simply held Alex’s head against his shoulder so he couldn’t see his mother on the bed and got him out of the room and down the stairs to the main floor. Almost instantly Carter could breathe more easily, the oppression and smell from upstairs dissipating slightly.
“Oh my God,” Rogers said when Carter walked into the living room. Carter put a finger to his lips, and Rogers lowered his voice. “Was he in the attic?”
“Yeah. You should send some people up there, but get masks for them. It’s noxious.” Carter shifted Alex in his arms, and the little boy gripped him even tighter.
Rogers nodded. “We should call….”
Carter put up his hand. He already knew what Rogers was going to say, but he didn’t want Alex to hear it in case he reacted and got upset. He was calm in Carter’s arms, and Carter wanted it to stay that way. “I know.”
Rogers nodded his understanding and left the room. Carter moved farther into the room to sit on the sofa. Alex whined softly, and as Carter got ready to sit, he began to struggle and fight.
“No, no, no,” Alex cried, releasing Carter and putting his hands over his little head.
“It’s all right,” Carter soothed and wondered what had been done to this poor child. He’d obviously been relegated to the attic. The emotional abuse was so evident it tugged at Carter’s heart, but he had to push it aside. He had to do his job, and he knew he couldn’t let it get to him or he’d be back in the basement with only his computers for company faster than they could say, “We knew you couldn’t cut it.”
Carter moved away from the furniture altogether and just stood off to the side, doing his best to soothe Alex.
“I not…,” Alex said and then stopped. “I bad.”
“No. You weren’t bad.” Carter took a deep breath.
Noise on the stairs caught Carter’s attention, and he turned so Alex couldn’t see what they were doing. The EMTs brought what was presumably Alex’s mother down the stairs on a stretcher, and one of them broke away and joined him.
“How is he?”
“Can you get me some water and maybe a little food for him? He seems okay otherwise, but when you have a minute, I’d like you to check him out.” Carter swallowed. “Phone calls are already being made.”
“All right. I’ll get some things from the truck and be right back. We’re going to transport her. I’ll stay behind and tend to him.”
“Perfect,” Carter breathed.
“I’m Chuck, by the way.”
“Carter,” he said and watched as Chuck hurried outside. He returned a few minutes later with a bottle of water and a small package of Oreos. Chuck opened the bottle and Carter held it for Alex, who drank and drank. Carter wasn’t surprised; the little guy had to be thirsty. Carter sure was, and he had only been up there a few minutes.
“It’s all right,” Carter said as he moved the bottle away. “Take your time. You can have all you want.” He spoke softly, and Alex lifted his head, his huge blue eyes filled with fear. “I promise. Just relax.” Carter placed the bottle to Alex’s lips, and he drank some more.
“Do you want a cookie?” He opened the package and handed Alex one of the Oreos. He looked at it and reached out to take it tentatively. Once it was in his hands, Alex shoved the entire thing in his mouth and chewed frantically. “It’s okay. No one is going to take it from you, and I have some more. See? So chew and swallow and I’ll give you another.”
Carter pulled out another cookie. Alex snatched it from his hand and held it close to his body. As soon as he swallowed, the second cookie went in whole. Alex reached for another cookie, grabbing it as soon as he could and once again holding it to him. Carter noticed that Alex watched Chuck closely, hiding the food from him.
“I’m not going to take your cookies, little man,” Chuck said. “I have more if you eat those. So don’t worry.”
Carter got Alex to stop eating long enough to drink some more water, and then more cookies were shoved in. Within minutes, all four cookies were gone and Alex settled down. Carter didn’t want to make the comparison, but he reminded Carter of the dog he’d had as a child. Snickers had always attacked his food dish, eating like crazy, as if the food would suddenly disappear. What in the fuck had been done to this little boy?
Now that he’d eaten and had something to drink, Alex settled against him.
Chuck stepped closer. “Can I look you over?” he asked. Alex blinked at him, but didn’t say anything or even move. He simply breathed. When Chuck moved closer, Alex parted his lips, baring his teeth.
“Hey. That isn’t nice,” Carter said gently. “He wants to make sure you aren’t hurt, okay? He won’t hurt you. I promise.” Alex blinked up at him. “Will you pull up your shirt so he can see your tummy?” Alex continued looking at Carter, who nodded, and Alex pulled up his shirt.
He was covered in dirt. Carter wondered how long it had been since he’d had a bath. Chuck got out a stethoscope and listened to Alex’s heart. Then he moved around to his back. “His heart and lungs sound good.” Chuck took Alex’s wrist and checked his pulse. “It’s a little fast but probably because of what’s happened. We can take him in if you want.”
“I don’t….” Carter wasn’t sure what he wanted. “We have people coming. They can make decisions for him.”
“Right now I think he needs food and water more than anything else.” Chuck turned to Alex. “Thank you,” Chuck said to Alex and then lowered his dirty shirt. Carter gave him more water.
“Do you need to use the bathroom?” Carter asked quietly. He wasn’t sure how old Alex was—four was his initial guess—but he took a chance and guessed he was potty trained. Alex nodded, and Carter took him through the house to the bathroom.
“Are you done in here?” Carter asked one of the officers as he came out of the bathroom.
“Yeah. There wasn’t anything of interest in there.” He continued on, and Carter put Alex on his feet. He hurried to the toilet and lifted the lid, then lowered his pants and went.
Carter turned when he was tapped on the shoulder.
“Child services is here,” Rogers said softly.
“Okay. We’ll meet them in the living room in a few minutes.” Carter waited while Alex flushed and then hurried to the sink. Carter lifted him up, and he turned on the water to wash his hands. The gesture seemed so foreign, given the surroundings. Carter set him down and found what appeared to be a clean towel. Alex dried his hands and then looked up at Carter. He lifted him once again, and then walked into the living room.
Carter suppressed the deep groan that threatened to erupt from his throat. Why the hell did it have to be him? “Hello, Donald,” he said formally as he stepped into the room.
“Carter,” Donald Ickle returned with his usually aloof demeanor. “Is this the boy I was called about?”
“Yes. We found him in the attic.” Some of the other officers came into the room. They were finishing up in the house, and Carter saw them carrying things outside. “He has apparently been living there. I’m not sure for how long, but there’s quite a mess in one corner, so I’d say for at least a few days. His things seemed to have been moved up there from one of the bedrooms on the second floor.”
Donald turned to Alex. “Can you tell me your name?”
“Piece of shit,” Alex answered just like he had before and in the exact same tone, like a parrot repeating what it had been told.
“You said your mommy called you Alex,” Carter prompted. Alex squirmed to get down, and when Carter set him on his feet, Alex went over the arm of the soiled sofa, pulled down his pants and leaned over, his little bare butt in the air. Carter was floored and looked to Donald for guidance. When he looked back, Carter saw red lines striping Alex’s skin. He let out a small gasp and then covered his mouth. Jesus Christ.
“No. It’s okay. You didn’t do anything wrong,” Carter said as it dawned on him that Alex was expecting to be punished. Donald didn’t say a word, and Carter wanted to punch the asshole’s lights out right then. Yes, Donald Ickle was an asshole, at least in his opinion—a cold, arrogant, asshole. Carter went over and tugged Alex’s pants back up. Then he lifted him into his arms and held him.
“You told me the truth. That’s what good boys do.” Carter glared over Alex’s shoulder at Donald, who simply looked back at him as though this was completely normal.
“We gave him some water and a few cookies because we weren’t sure how much he’d eaten or had to drink recently. I didn’t see the marks on him until just now. There weren’t any on his back or belly, or at least I didn’t see any when the EMT looked him over. I figured you could decide if you wanted him taken to the hospital.”
“I should, and then I’ll call around and see if I can get him into foster care. Do you know anything other than the name Alex?”
“No,” Carter said.
Donald pulled a notebook out of his case and began jotting down notes. “I’ll get him to the hospital so he can be looked over thoroughly.” Donald pulled out his phone and made a call. “I have a few emergency shelters that should be able to take him for a few days.” Donald began making calls, but from what Carter heard Donald was striking out. “I have one more.” Donald made the call while Carter continued to try to soothe Alex, who was getting jittery and fussy.
“Do you want me to stay?” Chuck said, putting his head back in the room.
“No. I’ll take him in and make sure any injuries he has are documented,” Donald told Chuck in the same disinterested voice Carter imagined Donald would use if he were ordering Chinese food. He told himself that no matter what Carter thought of Donald “Icicle” Ickle, he had Alex’s best interests at heart, even if he didn’t show it. At least that was his reputation.
“All right.” Chuck nodded and turned to leave. Most of the other officers had gone as well. Red stood near the front door and closed it behind Chuck after he left.
“I’ll make sure the scene is secured,” Red told him. “You make sure the kid is okay.”
“I will,” Donald said and looked at Red, who ignored him and kept looking at Carter.
“Don’t worry,” Carter said and turned his attention to Donald, who had struck out once again and was making another call. It was dark outside and well after dinnertime. Carter’s stomach told him he should have eaten a while ago, but he ignored it. There was someone more important to think about right now.
Donald finished his call. “I can place him with the county for now.” He made more notes and then gathered his things. “I have a booster seat in my trunk. I’ll get it installed in my car and take him to the hospital. From there, I’ll take him to the county home for the night. They have a bed for him.”
Carter seethed, but didn’t want Alex to know it. Donald approached and tried to take Alex from him. Alex snarled and lashed out with his teeth. “Alex, don’t do that. He’s trying to help you, even if he is being a pain about it.” Carter hardened his gaze, letting it bore into Icicle. “I’ll get him to the hospital, and we’ll meet you there.”
Alex didn’t settle down until Donald backed away. “All right. I’ll meet you there.”
Carter suppressed a smile at the slight amount of fear he saw in Donald’s eyes. Carter moved away, and they went outside. Donald strapped the booster seat in the back of Carter’s cruiser, and then once Alex was secured, Carter let Red know he was leaving and headed to the hospital.
Officially he was off duty, and he drove as carefully as he could to keep from jostling Alex. The kid looked white as a sheet as he rode, but he sat silently and still. By the time they reached the Emergency entrance at the hospital, he was breathing hard and shaking.
“It’s okay,” Carter soothed. He parked the car and hurried around, opened the door, and unhooked Alex from the seat belt. Then he pulled him out of the car and into his arms. He was shaking like a leaf. “There’s nothing to be afraid of.”
Alex looked up at the building and shook in Carter’s arms. A car pulled in behind them, and Donald got out and strode over to where they were standing. “He’s mean,” Alex whispered as Donald stepped closer to them.
“No, he’s not. He’s just”—Carter smiled—“grumpy.” He tickled Alex slightly, and Alex giggled and wrapped his arms around Carter’s neck.
“I’m professional, not grumpy,” Donald said and walked toward the front door of the hospital.
Carter followed along behind. “He is grumpy,” he said to Alex and walked inside.
Donald was already at the desk, and after a few minutes, he returned and motioned them to the chairs. “We need to wait, but it shouldn’t be long. I used your name as well.”
Carter looked at the woman behind the desk, and she smiled brightly at him. He sighed and sat down. Alex stayed on his lap, and Donald sat next to him. They didn’t talk, but every few minutes Donald shifted nervously. Carter kept his attention on Alex, but every few minutes he couldn’t help taking a peek at Donald in his suit and tie, all buttoned up.
Carter knew the exquisite body that lay hidden under those clothes. He and Donald had… well, they’d had a fling, a one-night stand that had ended up stretching out over an entire weekend a year earlier. It had been hot, sweaty, and Carter had thought well worth repeating as many times as possible, but obviously Icicle hadn’t. As soon as the weekend was over, Carter realized just why everyone referred to him as Ice, because Carter didn’t just get the cold shoulder; he’d had his nuts frozen off completely.
“You can go on through,” a nurse said when she came out to get them. Carter stood and followed her, still carrying Alex.
“I can take him. There’s no need for you to spend your entire evening here with him,” Donald said and carefully reached for Alex. He didn’t try to bite him again, but he most definitely was not happy, and after a few moments, he simply began to cry. Not whimpers, but out-and-out wailing, with tears of desperation.
“It’s all right. I’ll stay with him. Maybe he’ll calm down.” Alex practically jumped away from Donald and back into Carter’s arms. That seemed to settle things, and they walked together to an examining room.
Carter laid Alex on the bed and hoped he’d stay there. Thankfully it seemed comfortable enough, and Alex stayed still. Carter found the switch and dimmed the lights. Alex yawned, and Carter held his hand. Eventually the little guy fell asleep. “I have no idea how long he’s been awake.”
“How did you find him? You said he was in the attic,” Donald said.
Carter nodded. “He was locked up there. It was hot as hell and all he had was his little bed and a pile of his clothes.” He wished he could forget it. “How can anyone treat a kid that way? You were there. When you asked him his name, he told us what he’d been told, and then when I reminded him he had told me what his mom said, he expected to be punished. And someone has definitely hurt him. What the hell else have they done?” Carter cringed and swallowed hard. Sure, he’d been trained as an officer, but he had to admit he was not emotionally prepared for a situation like this.
Donald glared stone-faced across the bed. “I have seen things you would not believe.” He turned away and sat down in a chair, staring straight ahead.
“Are you really going to put him in the county home? He’ll scream himself hoarse and….”
Donald didn’t turn to look at him. “There’s no other choice. Until we can find out who he is and if there is family who can care for him, I need to find a place for him, and that’s all there is available.”
“There has to be something other than there.” Carter wanted to walk around the bed and smack Donald in the chest. “I know they call you Ice, but you can’t be that fucking cold,” he whispered threateningly. Carter knew he was hitting low, but if it got results, so be it. “This kid has been through hell, and you want to add to it.”
Alex opened his eyes and began to fuss. “You yelled,” Alex whimpered.
“No, I didn’t,” Carter soothed, stroking his little hand. “Just go back to sleep. Everything is going to be okay.”
“What do you want me to do?” Donald kept his tone light. “If you’re so concerned, then you take him for the night.”
“All right,” Carter said, crossing his arms over his chest.
Donald rolled his eyes. “Do you have a place for him?”
“He can take my bed and I’ll sleep on the sofa.” He’d done it before when his parents came to visit… once. He could do it again.
Donald exhaled dramatically. “Fine. I have an extra room. He can stay with me, and tomorrow I’ll find him a more permanent place. Let’s see if we can find out who he is. Then we may be able to get him into a permanent home.”
“Fine,” Carter said. Fuck, they sounded like a couple of schoolkids having an argument over who ate the last hot dog, rather than the care of a small boy. But he didn’t want to upset Alex again, so he had to keep his voice low.
“You know we sound like something out of a stupid sitcom.”
“Yeah, maybe, but I got you to do what’s right. I’ll take it.”
Donald rolled his eyes once again. But before they could continue this argument, conversation, whatever the hell it was, the doctor came in. Alex whimpered and moved closer to Carter. “What seems to be the trouble, young man?”
“Alex here was rescued from a potentially dangerous situation. He had apparently been locked in an attic for an undetermined amount of time. We have also seen evidence of possible physical abuse, so we wanted him examined to ensure he is truly okay, at least physically,” Donald answered.
“All right,” the doctor said.
“Be careful. He has a tendency to bite,” Donald added quickly.
“Only you,” Carter countered and turned to Alex. “Will you be good and do what the doctor says? He won’t hurt you. It’s going to be like the nice man at the house.” Alex stared at him. “Will you lift your shirt for the doctor?”
Alex blinked a few times and then pulled up his shirt just like he’d done for the EMT. The doctor listened to his heart, and then Carter helped Alex sit forward, and the doctor pressed his stethoscope to his back. He checked Alex over everywhere, and the only marks on him seemed to be the ones they’d seen earlier. The doctor took Alex’s temperature, and his blood pressure and pulse. Alex didn’t mind the cuff too much, but after the doctor left and the nurse came in to draw a little blood, he screamed bloody murder as soon as he saw the needle. The nurse gave him a lollipop, which he ate in a matter of seconds. Then he handed the stick back to her. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” the nurse said and handed a few more lollipops to Carter. “Take these home for him. He needs them worse than the other kids.” She left, and the doctor returned a while later.
“He seems fine. Maybe a little dehydrated, but otherwise okay. I’ve ordered some blood work and the initial tests are fine. I’ve asked that they run some others, as well as a DNA screening that might aid in identifying if he has any relatives who could take him right away. We’ll send the rest to your office, Mr. Ickle, with a copy to the police as well as a report of what we observed. We’ll just need you to sign some things on your way out.”
Carter gathered Alex in his arms and lifted him off the bed. Alex folded against his chest, put his arms around Carter’s neck, and rested his head on his shoulder. Donald signed what he needed, and then Carter put Alex in the back of his squad car. “I have to stop at the station, and then I’ll bring Alex to your place. I remember where it is.”
“Fine. I’ll see what I can do about rounding up what he’ll need for the night.” Donald turned and strode to his car. Carter got in and began the drive to the station.
“SO YOU finally convinced the captain to let you go out on patrol,” Red said as he sat down across from Carter in the police department breakroom, which was in dire need of renovation. Carter accepted the cup he offered with a smile. “It took you long enough.”
Carter Schunk grunted. “No kidding. As soon as everyone found out I had computer skills, they seemed determined to keep me locked away in the basement behind a terminal doing their investigative work while they got to go out in the world. I’m a trained police officer and I went to the academy just the same as they did.” Carter sipped from his cup to cut off the diatribe that threatened to take over. He took a deep breath to calm down, but it wasn’t working. Just this afternoon he’d gotten requests for simple Internet searches that he’d been told were so important his patrol duty had been delayed until the evening so he could get them done. It pissed him off—the officers could do those searches themselves—but he shouldn’t be taking it out on Red. “I appreciate that you’ve been in my corner.”
“Always will be, bud.” Red flashed him a quick smile and then it was gone. Carter knew Red was still self-conscious about his teeth, so he rarely smiled for very long. His real smiles seemed to be reserved for Terry, his swimmer boyfriend, who was training for his chance at Olympic gold next year. “Everyone deserves a chance.”
Carter snickered. “You know you’ve turned into a real sap over the past few months.” He backed away, expecting Red to take a good-natured swipe at him. Red was huge—tall and wide—easily the biggest man on the force. He’d been in an accident as a kid, and while Terry had worked with him in order to help Red feel better about his looks, Red still sported the visible scars from that accident. “Not that it wasn’t well earned.” Hell, Carter would turn into a lovesick sap like Red if it meant he had someone like Terry to come home to each night.
Red finished his coffee and tossed the paper cup in the trash. “Are you ready?”
Carter gulped the hot liquid and then tossed his cup as well before following Red out of the breakroom. He checked out a patrol car and got inside. Red stood outside his window as Carter excitedly went over everything in his mind. He’d done this before, but it had been a while and it felt damned good to be a “real” cop again instead of the computer geek in residence. “I’m all set.”
“Good.” Red patted the doorframe twice. “I’ll be out there as well. You call if you need anything. Hell, call if you think you need anything. I’ll be there.”
Carter chuckled. “Thanks.” Red had become a good friend over the past six months. Before, he’d always kept to himself, but since Terry had entered his life, Red had blossomed into a happy man. Truthfully, Carter was jealous of what they had, but not of Red. It couldn’t have happened to a nicer guy. Carter just wished it would happen to him.
He started the engine and pulled out of the lot with Red following behind. Carter’s area of patrol was the north end of Carlisle, so he turned in that direction and drove up Hanover Street before turning onto East Louther and slowly making his way through some of the rougher areas of the borough, making his presence known. Often just being out and about in some of these areas was enough to quell trouble. Tonight did not seem to be one of those nights. Almost immediately a report of a home invasion came over the radio. Carter’s heart raced as he radioed that he was responding, flipped on his lights, and sped up. He’d been just a street away and arrived as two men were carrying a flat-screen television out a passageway between two row houses. As soon as they saw Carter, they dropped the television, took off, and got into their truck. Another patrol car came up the street from the other direction, boxing them in. Carter heard Red’s voice boom over the street, and the men got out of the truck and lay down on the concrete facedown, as commanded. It was over almost as soon as it started.
He and Red cuffed the men and read them their rights as other units responded. Statements were taken from the homeowner, with Carter adding what he’d seen. Then the men were transported back to the station. “I’ll handle the paperwork,” Red volunteered. “Go keep the streets safe.” Red winked, and Carter went back to his car and headed out.
The next few hours were quite normal and dull. Carter had forgotten how patrol could be: hours of waiting and watching around moments of excitement.
“Domestic dispute 100 block of East North,” the dispatcher said over the radio.
Carter stifled a groan and responded. Domestic calls were the worst. Half the time it was nothing, like neighbors calling in because the people in the next unit were yelling too loudly. Most of the rest were people in need of help, but often they refused to press charges. Those were the most frustrating for everyone on the force. Carter pushed that from his mind, going as fast as he dared, reaching the house within minutes.
There was little doubt what had prompted the call. As soon as he opened his car door, high-pitched screaming rattled his spine. It seemed to be coming from inside the open-windowed row house. Carter called for backup and sprang into action. It sounded as though someone was being injured. Sirens blared in the distance and patrol cars arrived, blocking the street. Carter explained what he’d heard and the screaming began again, this time louder and more frantic. Officers spread out, and Carter headed to the front door. “Police,” he yelled and tried the knob. The door opened, and he rushed inside, weapon at the ready.
Carter heard other officers enter from the back. He quickly cleared the front rooms and the others the back. The house was quiet now, and Carter motioned toward the stairs.
“Get out of my house!” a man yelled as he barreled down the stairs, red faced, eyes glazed over in rage.
“Down on the floor now!” Carter yelled forcefully and pointed his weapon at him, finger on the trigger. The man reached the bottom of the stairs, and Carter wasn’t sure he was going to stop. His finger began to move against the trigger. His training kicked in. “Get down!” he yelled again, and the man stopped and dropped to his knees. Carter inhaled and released his finger from the trigger, but stayed alert. There was at least one more person in the house—this guy wasn’t the person he’d heard screaming.
One of the other officers cuffed the man as Carter began climbing the stairs. He stayed close to the wall, gun in his hand, ready to defend himself. He reached the top of the stairs and heard crying. The officers behind him spread out, checking the other rooms while Carter moved toward the sound. He pushed open a partially closed door and gasped.
A woman lay on a bed twisted in dingy sheets, nearly naked, rocking her head back and forth as she cried, clutching the mattress. Carter took in the room quickly. Pills sat on the nightstand in a baggie. “Ma’am, are you all right?” Carter asked, but she just kept crying and rocking her head on the bed.
“Call an ambulance,” Carter said over his shoulder.
“Already did.”
Carter turned quickly, making sure he knew who was behind him. Aaron Cloud was an investigator on the force, and Carter instantly felt more comfortable knowing he was here. Aaron was an experienced officer and a man who believed in supporting his fellow officers, especially the newer ones.
“They’re on their way.” Aaron stepped around him to the woman. “Go ahead and check out the rest of the house. I’ll stay with her.”
Carter nodded and left the room.
“There’s no one else here,” Kip Rogers, another patrol officer, told him.
Carter nodded and began peering into the other rooms. They were mostly empty, but something in the corner of one of the bedrooms caught his eye. Carter stepped inside carefully. The house was a wreck, with torn carpet, damaged walls, and grimy paint that must have been applied decades earlier. He scrunched his nose at the urine smell from the carpet and bent to examine what he’d seen.
A small brown stuffed bunny lay in the corner of the room. Carter looked at Rogers and then pulled a glove out of his pocket. He put it on and picked up the toy. One of the ears flopped down while the other stood straight up, and the bunny smiled at him in complete contrast to this place.
“What are you thinking?” Rogers asked.
Carter set the stuffed toy back where he found it and pulled open the closet door. A pair of small shoes lay jumbled in the corner, and a pair of tiny jeans and a sock rested on the dirty carpet. “Is there a kid here?” Carter whispered to himself and then turned to Rogers. “We need to make sure there isn’t a child somewhere in this mess.”
Rogers looked in the closet and then at Carter. “That stuff could have been there for years.”
“Maybe, but we need to make sure we’ve checked everywhere.” Carter left the room and went back into the tiny hallway. “Could you make sure the basement has been searched? I’m going to see if there’s an attic.” He began opening doors but found no stairs.
The ambulance arrived and Carter got out of the way so the EMTs could pass. Then he went into the last bedroom. It had a bed with a bare mattress and nothing else. Carter opened the closet door, but it was empty. There couldn’t be much attic space in the house, but he knew many of them had some. He then went back in the master bedroom and pulled open the closet. Pushing the clothes aside, he found what he was looking for: a set of stairs that went upward.
“What are you doing?” Aaron asked.
“Checking everything.” He turned on his flashlight and carefully entered the space. The stairs curved and he had to bend so he didn’t hit his head.
The smell was the first thing to assault him, and Carter had to stop himself from gagging repeatedly. It got hotter as he climbed, and the air, God—his eyes watered and he half expected to find something or someone dead. As he reached the top of the stairs and peered into the space, he nearly jumped back when someone looked back at him. Almost instantly he heard scrambling. Carter shone his light in that direction and gasped.
A small bed had been pushed against the far wall, if you could call it a wall. More accurately, it was the roofing studs. A small pile of clothes sat nearby.
“It’s all right,” Carter crooned. “I’m not going to hurt you, I promise.”
Whimpering reached his ears, and Carter followed the sound. As he got closer to the bed, a tiny head popped up from behind it, and huge eyes filled with terror looked back at him.
Carter could hardly breathe as the realization of what he was seeing hit him. This was a child—a little boy, by the looks of it. “It’s okay. I’m Carter and I’m here to help.” Sweat ran down Carter’s back, and he wondered just how long the boy had been up here. From the smell, long enough to have needed to go to the bathroom and not have a place to go. “I promise.” Carter had seen plenty of shitty things in his life and heard even more at the police department, but this…. His throat went dry and fuck if he didn’t want to cry at the sight. But he held it together and slowly extended his hand. “It’s okay.”
“They were yelling,” the boy said without moving.
“Yes,” Carter said. “But it’s okay now. They aren’t yelling anymore.” Carter wanted to get a better look at the kid, but he didn’t want to shine his flashlight light in his eyes. He glanced up to see if there was any light in the space other than the tiny window in front, but saw nothing at all. “Please come out. I promise it’s okay.”
The boy began to stand.
“What did you find?” one of the other officers called up the stairs, and the boy skittered back behind the bed. Carter swore under his breath.
“Just a minute,” he said back without raising his voice. The last thing he wanted was half the police force up here scaring the kid even more than he already was. “It’s okay. He’s just a loudmouth.”
“He yelled,” came a muffled reply.
“It’s okay. He was just talking loud. I promise.”
The boy lifted his head and slowly stood up. He wasn’t very tall. Carter waited for him to climb on the bed and then lifted him into his arms. “What’s your name?”
“Piece of shit,” he answered seriously. Carter needed like hell to get out of there, but was rooted in place by his answer.
“Is that all they ever called you?” Carter’s eyes watered and his throat was starting to burn. And the heat—how could this little boy stand it up here?
“Mommy called me Alex sometimes.”
“Then we’ll call you Alex. That’s a nice name.” Carter held the boy closer, carrying him toward the stairs. He placed his hand on Alex’s head and descended slowly out of the attic. Alex trembled in his arms the closer they got to the entrance to the attic. “It’s all right. No one is going to hurt you.”
“He said I was to stay there,” Alex said and then began to cry. Carter thought he was going to cry right along with him. Jesus, maybe he wasn’t cut out for this and should have stayed behind his computers.
“Well, I’m here now and I say you can leave.” Carter bent nearly in half to get through the door and then squeezed into the closet and finally the bedroom. Various sets of eyes turned to him in near astonishment. Carter said nothing. He simply held Alex’s head against his shoulder so he couldn’t see his mother on the bed and got him out of the room and down the stairs to the main floor. Almost instantly Carter could breathe more easily, the oppression and smell from upstairs dissipating slightly.
“Oh my God,” Rogers said when Carter walked into the living room. Carter put a finger to his lips, and Rogers lowered his voice. “Was he in the attic?”
“Yeah. You should send some people up there, but get masks for them. It’s noxious.” Carter shifted Alex in his arms, and the little boy gripped him even tighter.
Rogers nodded. “We should call….”
Carter put up his hand. He already knew what Rogers was going to say, but he didn’t want Alex to hear it in case he reacted and got upset. He was calm in Carter’s arms, and Carter wanted it to stay that way. “I know.”
Rogers nodded his understanding and left the room. Carter moved farther into the room to sit on the sofa. Alex whined softly, and as Carter got ready to sit, he began to struggle and fight.
“No, no, no,” Alex cried, releasing Carter and putting his hands over his little head.
“It’s all right,” Carter soothed and wondered what had been done to this poor child. He’d obviously been relegated to the attic. The emotional abuse was so evident it tugged at Carter’s heart, but he had to push it aside. He had to do his job, and he knew he couldn’t let it get to him or he’d be back in the basement with only his computers for company faster than they could say, “We knew you couldn’t cut it.”
Carter moved away from the furniture altogether and just stood off to the side, doing his best to soothe Alex.
“I not…,” Alex said and then stopped. “I bad.”
“No. You weren’t bad.” Carter took a deep breath.
Noise on the stairs caught Carter’s attention, and he turned so Alex couldn’t see what they were doing. The EMTs brought what was presumably Alex’s mother down the stairs on a stretcher, and one of them broke away and joined him.
“How is he?”
“Can you get me some water and maybe a little food for him? He seems okay otherwise, but when you have a minute, I’d like you to check him out.” Carter swallowed. “Phone calls are already being made.”
“All right. I’ll get some things from the truck and be right back. We’re going to transport her. I’ll stay behind and tend to him.”
“Perfect,” Carter breathed.
“I’m Chuck, by the way.”
“Carter,” he said and watched as Chuck hurried outside. He returned a few minutes later with a bottle of water and a small package of Oreos. Chuck opened the bottle and Carter held it for Alex, who drank and drank. Carter wasn’t surprised; the little guy had to be thirsty. Carter sure was, and he had only been up there a few minutes.
“It’s all right,” Carter said as he moved the bottle away. “Take your time. You can have all you want.” He spoke softly, and Alex lifted his head, his huge blue eyes filled with fear. “I promise. Just relax.” Carter placed the bottle to Alex’s lips, and he drank some more.
“Do you want a cookie?” He opened the package and handed Alex one of the Oreos. He looked at it and reached out to take it tentatively. Once it was in his hands, Alex shoved the entire thing in his mouth and chewed frantically. “It’s okay. No one is going to take it from you, and I have some more. See? So chew and swallow and I’ll give you another.”
Carter pulled out another cookie. Alex snatched it from his hand and held it close to his body. As soon as he swallowed, the second cookie went in whole. Alex reached for another cookie, grabbing it as soon as he could and once again holding it to him. Carter noticed that Alex watched Chuck closely, hiding the food from him.
“I’m not going to take your cookies, little man,” Chuck said. “I have more if you eat those. So don’t worry.”
Carter got Alex to stop eating long enough to drink some more water, and then more cookies were shoved in. Within minutes, all four cookies were gone and Alex settled down. Carter didn’t want to make the comparison, but he reminded Carter of the dog he’d had as a child. Snickers had always attacked his food dish, eating like crazy, as if the food would suddenly disappear. What in the fuck had been done to this little boy?
Now that he’d eaten and had something to drink, Alex settled against him.
Chuck stepped closer. “Can I look you over?” he asked. Alex blinked at him, but didn’t say anything or even move. He simply breathed. When Chuck moved closer, Alex parted his lips, baring his teeth.
“Hey. That isn’t nice,” Carter said gently. “He wants to make sure you aren’t hurt, okay? He won’t hurt you. I promise.” Alex blinked up at him. “Will you pull up your shirt so he can see your tummy?” Alex continued looking at Carter, who nodded, and Alex pulled up his shirt.
He was covered in dirt. Carter wondered how long it had been since he’d had a bath. Chuck got out a stethoscope and listened to Alex’s heart. Then he moved around to his back. “His heart and lungs sound good.” Chuck took Alex’s wrist and checked his pulse. “It’s a little fast but probably because of what’s happened. We can take him in if you want.”
“I don’t….” Carter wasn’t sure what he wanted. “We have people coming. They can make decisions for him.”
“Right now I think he needs food and water more than anything else.” Chuck turned to Alex. “Thank you,” Chuck said to Alex and then lowered his dirty shirt. Carter gave him more water.
“Do you need to use the bathroom?” Carter asked quietly. He wasn’t sure how old Alex was—four was his initial guess—but he took a chance and guessed he was potty trained. Alex nodded, and Carter took him through the house to the bathroom.
“Are you done in here?” Carter asked one of the officers as he came out of the bathroom.
“Yeah. There wasn’t anything of interest in there.” He continued on, and Carter put Alex on his feet. He hurried to the toilet and lifted the lid, then lowered his pants and went.
Carter turned when he was tapped on the shoulder.
“Child services is here,” Rogers said softly.
“Okay. We’ll meet them in the living room in a few minutes.” Carter waited while Alex flushed and then hurried to the sink. Carter lifted him up, and he turned on the water to wash his hands. The gesture seemed so foreign, given the surroundings. Carter set him down and found what appeared to be a clean towel. Alex dried his hands and then looked up at Carter. He lifted him once again, and then walked into the living room.
Carter suppressed the deep groan that threatened to erupt from his throat. Why the hell did it have to be him? “Hello, Donald,” he said formally as he stepped into the room.
“Carter,” Donald Ickle returned with his usually aloof demeanor. “Is this the boy I was called about?”
“Yes. We found him in the attic.” Some of the other officers came into the room. They were finishing up in the house, and Carter saw them carrying things outside. “He has apparently been living there. I’m not sure for how long, but there’s quite a mess in one corner, so I’d say for at least a few days. His things seemed to have been moved up there from one of the bedrooms on the second floor.”
Donald turned to Alex. “Can you tell me your name?”
“Piece of shit,” Alex answered just like he had before and in the exact same tone, like a parrot repeating what it had been told.
“You said your mommy called you Alex,” Carter prompted. Alex squirmed to get down, and when Carter set him on his feet, Alex went over the arm of the soiled sofa, pulled down his pants and leaned over, his little bare butt in the air. Carter was floored and looked to Donald for guidance. When he looked back, Carter saw red lines striping Alex’s skin. He let out a small gasp and then covered his mouth. Jesus Christ.
“No. It’s okay. You didn’t do anything wrong,” Carter said as it dawned on him that Alex was expecting to be punished. Donald didn’t say a word, and Carter wanted to punch the asshole’s lights out right then. Yes, Donald Ickle was an asshole, at least in his opinion—a cold, arrogant, asshole. Carter went over and tugged Alex’s pants back up. Then he lifted him into his arms and held him.
“You told me the truth. That’s what good boys do.” Carter glared over Alex’s shoulder at Donald, who simply looked back at him as though this was completely normal.
“We gave him some water and a few cookies because we weren’t sure how much he’d eaten or had to drink recently. I didn’t see the marks on him until just now. There weren’t any on his back or belly, or at least I didn’t see any when the EMT looked him over. I figured you could decide if you wanted him taken to the hospital.”
“I should, and then I’ll call around and see if I can get him into foster care. Do you know anything other than the name Alex?”
“No,” Carter said.
Donald pulled a notebook out of his case and began jotting down notes. “I’ll get him to the hospital so he can be looked over thoroughly.” Donald pulled out his phone and made a call. “I have a few emergency shelters that should be able to take him for a few days.” Donald began making calls, but from what Carter heard Donald was striking out. “I have one more.” Donald made the call while Carter continued to try to soothe Alex, who was getting jittery and fussy.
“Do you want me to stay?” Chuck said, putting his head back in the room.
“No. I’ll take him in and make sure any injuries he has are documented,” Donald told Chuck in the same disinterested voice Carter imagined Donald would use if he were ordering Chinese food. He told himself that no matter what Carter thought of Donald “Icicle” Ickle, he had Alex’s best interests at heart, even if he didn’t show it. At least that was his reputation.
“All right.” Chuck nodded and turned to leave. Most of the other officers had gone as well. Red stood near the front door and closed it behind Chuck after he left.
“I’ll make sure the scene is secured,” Red told him. “You make sure the kid is okay.”
“I will,” Donald said and looked at Red, who ignored him and kept looking at Carter.
“Don’t worry,” Carter said and turned his attention to Donald, who had struck out once again and was making another call. It was dark outside and well after dinnertime. Carter’s stomach told him he should have eaten a while ago, but he ignored it. There was someone more important to think about right now.
Donald finished his call. “I can place him with the county for now.” He made more notes and then gathered his things. “I have a booster seat in my trunk. I’ll get it installed in my car and take him to the hospital. From there, I’ll take him to the county home for the night. They have a bed for him.”
Carter seethed, but didn’t want Alex to know it. Donald approached and tried to take Alex from him. Alex snarled and lashed out with his teeth. “Alex, don’t do that. He’s trying to help you, even if he is being a pain about it.” Carter hardened his gaze, letting it bore into Icicle. “I’ll get him to the hospital, and we’ll meet you there.”
Alex didn’t settle down until Donald backed away. “All right. I’ll meet you there.”
Carter suppressed a smile at the slight amount of fear he saw in Donald’s eyes. Carter moved away, and they went outside. Donald strapped the booster seat in the back of Carter’s cruiser, and then once Alex was secured, Carter let Red know he was leaving and headed to the hospital.
Officially he was off duty, and he drove as carefully as he could to keep from jostling Alex. The kid looked white as a sheet as he rode, but he sat silently and still. By the time they reached the Emergency entrance at the hospital, he was breathing hard and shaking.
“It’s okay,” Carter soothed. He parked the car and hurried around, opened the door, and unhooked Alex from the seat belt. Then he pulled him out of the car and into his arms. He was shaking like a leaf. “There’s nothing to be afraid of.”
Alex looked up at the building and shook in Carter’s arms. A car pulled in behind them, and Donald got out and strode over to where they were standing. “He’s mean,” Alex whispered as Donald stepped closer to them.
“No, he’s not. He’s just”—Carter smiled—“grumpy.” He tickled Alex slightly, and Alex giggled and wrapped his arms around Carter’s neck.
“I’m professional, not grumpy,” Donald said and walked toward the front door of the hospital.
Carter followed along behind. “He is grumpy,” he said to Alex and walked inside.
Donald was already at the desk, and after a few minutes, he returned and motioned them to the chairs. “We need to wait, but it shouldn’t be long. I used your name as well.”
Carter looked at the woman behind the desk, and she smiled brightly at him. He sighed and sat down. Alex stayed on his lap, and Donald sat next to him. They didn’t talk, but every few minutes Donald shifted nervously. Carter kept his attention on Alex, but every few minutes he couldn’t help taking a peek at Donald in his suit and tie, all buttoned up.
Carter knew the exquisite body that lay hidden under those clothes. He and Donald had… well, they’d had a fling, a one-night stand that had ended up stretching out over an entire weekend a year earlier. It had been hot, sweaty, and Carter had thought well worth repeating as many times as possible, but obviously Icicle hadn’t. As soon as the weekend was over, Carter realized just why everyone referred to him as Ice, because Carter didn’t just get the cold shoulder; he’d had his nuts frozen off completely.
“You can go on through,” a nurse said when she came out to get them. Carter stood and followed her, still carrying Alex.
“I can take him. There’s no need for you to spend your entire evening here with him,” Donald said and carefully reached for Alex. He didn’t try to bite him again, but he most definitely was not happy, and after a few moments, he simply began to cry. Not whimpers, but out-and-out wailing, with tears of desperation.
“It’s all right. I’ll stay with him. Maybe he’ll calm down.” Alex practically jumped away from Donald and back into Carter’s arms. That seemed to settle things, and they walked together to an examining room.
Carter laid Alex on the bed and hoped he’d stay there. Thankfully it seemed comfortable enough, and Alex stayed still. Carter found the switch and dimmed the lights. Alex yawned, and Carter held his hand. Eventually the little guy fell asleep. “I have no idea how long he’s been awake.”
“How did you find him? You said he was in the attic,” Donald said.
Carter nodded. “He was locked up there. It was hot as hell and all he had was his little bed and a pile of his clothes.” He wished he could forget it. “How can anyone treat a kid that way? You were there. When you asked him his name, he told us what he’d been told, and then when I reminded him he had told me what his mom said, he expected to be punished. And someone has definitely hurt him. What the hell else have they done?” Carter cringed and swallowed hard. Sure, he’d been trained as an officer, but he had to admit he was not emotionally prepared for a situation like this.
Donald glared stone-faced across the bed. “I have seen things you would not believe.” He turned away and sat down in a chair, staring straight ahead.
“Are you really going to put him in the county home? He’ll scream himself hoarse and….”
Donald didn’t turn to look at him. “There’s no other choice. Until we can find out who he is and if there is family who can care for him, I need to find a place for him, and that’s all there is available.”
“There has to be something other than there.” Carter wanted to walk around the bed and smack Donald in the chest. “I know they call you Ice, but you can’t be that fucking cold,” he whispered threateningly. Carter knew he was hitting low, but if it got results, so be it. “This kid has been through hell, and you want to add to it.”
Alex opened his eyes and began to fuss. “You yelled,” Alex whimpered.
“No, I didn’t,” Carter soothed, stroking his little hand. “Just go back to sleep. Everything is going to be okay.”
“What do you want me to do?” Donald kept his tone light. “If you’re so concerned, then you take him for the night.”
“All right,” Carter said, crossing his arms over his chest.
Donald rolled his eyes. “Do you have a place for him?”
“He can take my bed and I’ll sleep on the sofa.” He’d done it before when his parents came to visit… once. He could do it again.
Donald exhaled dramatically. “Fine. I have an extra room. He can stay with me, and tomorrow I’ll find him a more permanent place. Let’s see if we can find out who he is. Then we may be able to get him into a permanent home.”
“Fine,” Carter said. Fuck, they sounded like a couple of schoolkids having an argument over who ate the last hot dog, rather than the care of a small boy. But he didn’t want to upset Alex again, so he had to keep his voice low.
“You know we sound like something out of a stupid sitcom.”
“Yeah, maybe, but I got you to do what’s right. I’ll take it.”
Donald rolled his eyes once again. But before they could continue this argument, conversation, whatever the hell it was, the doctor came in. Alex whimpered and moved closer to Carter. “What seems to be the trouble, young man?”
“Alex here was rescued from a potentially dangerous situation. He had apparently been locked in an attic for an undetermined amount of time. We have also seen evidence of possible physical abuse, so we wanted him examined to ensure he is truly okay, at least physically,” Donald answered.
“All right,” the doctor said.
“Be careful. He has a tendency to bite,” Donald added quickly.
“Only you,” Carter countered and turned to Alex. “Will you be good and do what the doctor says? He won’t hurt you. It’s going to be like the nice man at the house.” Alex stared at him. “Will you lift your shirt for the doctor?”
Alex blinked a few times and then pulled up his shirt just like he’d done for the EMT. The doctor listened to his heart, and then Carter helped Alex sit forward, and the doctor pressed his stethoscope to his back. He checked Alex over everywhere, and the only marks on him seemed to be the ones they’d seen earlier. The doctor took Alex’s temperature, and his blood pressure and pulse. Alex didn’t mind the cuff too much, but after the doctor left and the nurse came in to draw a little blood, he screamed bloody murder as soon as he saw the needle. The nurse gave him a lollipop, which he ate in a matter of seconds. Then he handed the stick back to her. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” the nurse said and handed a few more lollipops to Carter. “Take these home for him. He needs them worse than the other kids.” She left, and the doctor returned a while later.
“He seems fine. Maybe a little dehydrated, but otherwise okay. I’ve ordered some blood work and the initial tests are fine. I’ve asked that they run some others, as well as a DNA screening that might aid in identifying if he has any relatives who could take him right away. We’ll send the rest to your office, Mr. Ickle, with a copy to the police as well as a report of what we observed. We’ll just need you to sign some things on your way out.”
Carter gathered Alex in his arms and lifted him off the bed. Alex folded against his chest, put his arms around Carter’s neck, and rested his head on his shoulder. Donald signed what he needed, and then Carter put Alex in the back of his squad car. “I have to stop at the station, and then I’ll bring Alex to your place. I remember where it is.”
“Fine. I’ll see what I can do about rounding up what he’ll need for the night.” Donald turned and strode to his car. Carter got in and began the drive to the station.
Fire & Snow #4
Chapter 1
“HEADING OUT on patrol?” Red asked as JD Burnside stopped to grab his coat and hat before going outside. Red looked him over and shook his head. “Here. You’re going to need these gloves, and put on an extra pair of socks.”
“It’s only November…,” JD said, getting a little worried.
“Maybe, but the wind will go right through you, and they have you on foot patrol in the square. That cold concrete is going to leach the heat right out through your shoes unless you have something extra on.”
JD sighed and sat back down in the locker room, going through his things until he came up with a second pair of socks. He slipped off his boots and pulled them on. Instantly his feet began to sweat, but he ignored it and pulled on his now-tight boots. “Is there anything else I should know?”
“Be sure to keep your citation book handy. Fallfest is just winding down, and everyone should be going home, but that also means the heavy-duty revelers will take it into the bars, so be on the lookout for people weaving and bobbing. We don’t want them driving home.”
“Is that why I’m supposed to be outside in god-awful weather like this instead of tucked in a nice warm patrol car like a regular person?” At least the patrol car would have heat. JD had not gotten used to the weather up in Central Pennsylvania, and he was beginning to realize that his first winter here was going to be hard as hell to get through.
“We always have someone visible to deter drunk driving. I did it two years ago, and Carter had the glorious honor last year. It’s only for a day, and all you need to do is keep yourself warm and your eyes open. Everyone will empty out in three or four hours, and then you can come on back and grab a patrol car. These are always interesting evenings.”
“Yeah?” JD inquired as he got to his feet.
Red grinned. “A few years ago, they had this cow parade thing where artists decorated fiberglass cows and they put them around the area. There were four of them in town, and one was on the square. That year we had someone decide it was a bull and that he was going to ride it… buck naked in the middle of town.” Red began to laugh. “By the time we got to him, he’d turned half-blue and all his friends were getting ready to take their turn. We stopped them before the entire crowd turned into a streak-fest.”
“What happened to the naked guy?”
“We hauled him away for indecent exposure, and he got a fine. The thing is, this may be a small town, but we have some crazies when they drink. So keep an eye out and call if you see anything. I’ll be around and will stop by to check on you.”
JD thanked Red for his help and the story, which had brightened his mood a little. He made sure he had everything and slammed his locker closed before leaving the station and heading out through town toward the square.
He was a block away from the square. When he arrived, he glanced up at the clock tower on the old courthouse to check the time.
“Assault in progress, courthouse common” came through his radio.
JD responded and raced forward, heart pounding. He rounded the courthouse and saw a group of three college students crowded around one of the benches.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing, old man?” one of the boys was yelling, the sound carrying through the square. The others yelled as well.
“What’s going on?” JD projected in his best police voice. The students backed away, hands exposed, which JD liked. At least they didn’t seem to be a threat to him.
“This old guy was about to take a leak on the veterans’ memorial,” said the kid who’d been doing the yelling. “We sat him down and were trying to talk to him, but he tried to hit Hooper here.” He took a further step back and gave JD room. A man in his late sixties, if JD had to guess, sat on the bench, shaking like a leaf. The front of his pants was wet, and he smelled. When JD touched him, the man felt cold, and he continued to shiver. JD tried more than once to get the man to look at him, and when he finally did, his eyes were vacant and half-lidded.
“I need an ambulance on High Street next to the old courthouse,” JD called in. The man continued to shiver and shake. This wasn’t just from the cold. The scent of alcohol permeated even the mess he’d made of himself. The man needed help.
“Is he going to be all right?” Hooper asked. “We didn’t hurt him or anything. He was going to take a leak right there on the memorial, and we tried to stop him and help him sit down, but he swung at me and nearly fell.” The kid seemed upset. His eyes were as big as saucers.
“Did he hit you?” JD asked.
“No. He was too slow. But David here, the big idiot, started yelling, and that must have been what you heard.”
“How much have you had to drink?” JD asked David.
“Enough to know I won’t be driving,” David answered with blinky eyes.
“None of you had better,” JD advised.
“I’m their ride,” Hooper said. “I hate the taste of the stuff, so they buy me food and Cokes, and I drive the idiots home.” One of Hooper’s friends bumped him on the shoulder.
JD turned back to the old man, who was rocking slightly from side to side. JD tried to get his name, but he was becoming more and more unresponsive. JD got the students’ information and sent them on their way. He could check with them if he needed to, but what they’d said rang true.
There must have been plenty of calls already, but an ambulance finally arrived and they got the man settled into it. He didn’t have any identification on him. JD made sure to get the information he could, and then the EMTs took the man to the hospital.
At least during that excitement he hadn’t had a chance to be cold. Once the ambulance pulled away, the square turned quiet. Dry leaves rustled in the trees, and wisps flashed in the lights that lit the side of the old courthouse. JD shivered when he realized those wisps were snow. God, he was going to freeze to death here.
JD pushed that thought aside and walked around the square, then along the side streets, watching for trouble. He passed a few people still huddled on the benches, but he figured they’d soon give up and head on home.
Now that the streets were no longer blocked off for the festival, traffic continued flowing through the main intersection, as it usually did. JD returned to the intersection, crossed High Street and then Hanover, then continued around to the narrow side street that ran next to one of the churches on the square. He hated that street. It wasn’t well lit and there were plenty of shadows.
He peered down to check for movement and was preparing to move on when Red pulled up in a patrol car. JD opened the passenger door and got inside.
“I saw you heading this way and thought we could take a ride for a while,” Red said.
JD was eternally grateful as he soaked up the heat inside the car. “I hate that street.”
“We all do. The chief is going to demand a streetlight. The church has been fighting it because they say it will mess up the light coming in from the stained-glass windows or something. But lately it’s become a real hazard.” Red put the car in gear and made the turn, slowly rolling down the street.
At the slight bend, two figures raced out of a corner and took off down the street toward the church’s back parking lot. Red flipped on his lights while JD jumped out and took off on foot. Red raced past him to try to head the men off.
JD was fast. He had run track in high school and college, and no street punk was going to outrun him. He pounded the pavement, feet racing. One of the men dodged and got away once, but when he tried it again, JD was ready and grabbed the back of his coat, yanking the man to a stop.
He fell to the ground and rolled. JD stayed on his feet, and when the man stopped rolling, JD knelt and placed his knee on his back.
“I wasn’t doing nothing,” the man protested.
“Yeah, I’m sure,” JD said as Red pulled up.
“The other one got away,” Red said angrily.
“This one was throwing things out of his pocket as he ran,” JD said, pointing back the way they’d come.
“Oh man. You going to try to pin shit on me now?” the man asked as he shifted on the ground.
JD cuffed him and made sure he was secure. “Nope. I’m going to make sure you get what you’ve got coming to you.” JD watched as Red carefully photographed and tagged what had been thrown aside. The law had been the family profession for generations, so JD had decided to become a police officer. But once he’d started down the path, he’d discovered a love of fair play, protecting others, and enforcing the law. Maybe it was genetic? He wasn’t sure.
Other sirens sounded, and soon two more cars joined them, bathing JD and the suspect in headlights.
“What have we here?” Aaron Cloud, one of the detectives, asked as he got out of his car.
“Cocaine, by the looks of it,” Red answered. “Enough of it that he’s going to be doing some long, hard time.”
“That ain’t mine,” the suspect said.
JD shook his head. “I saw him throwing it out of his pockets, with his bare hands, as I chased him. It was his. His prints will be on the bags.” The guy must be an idiot.
“Go ahead and read him his rights. We’ll take him down to the station.”
“There was another man with him,” Red said. “JD here jumped out of the car when we saw him, took off like a shot, and got this guy. I followed the other man, but he ran between the houses over there and disappeared across High Street.”
“We’ll find out who he was,” Aaron said, looking down at the suspect. “Won’t we?” The menacing tone Aaron used had the guy shaking a little. JD knew it was an act. Detective Cloud was a “by the book” kind of guy, but if he hadn’t been a police officer, he could have had a career in Hollywood.
Aaron took custody of the suspect, and JD helped Red confirm they had found everything that had been thrown by their suspect before driving to the station.
“I don’t think I’ve ever been so grateful for a drug bust in my life,” JD said as they rode, the wipers swishing back and forth to wipe the falling snow from the windshield.
They passed the square slowly. JD turned when he saw movement. A man stood up from one of the benches and slowly walked away. “Are there always people on those benches? They have to be freezing in this weather.”
“Yeah. People sit there all day long. They have their favorite spots, and heaven help anyone who tries to take it. Mostly people just pass them by and don’t really notice them.” Red made the turn and continued to the station. JD pulled his mind away from the bench sitters back to the report he was going to have to help write.
At least the station was warm. JD went to his desk and got to work putting together his statement of events.
“You did good,” Red told him as he passed. “Though I don’t recommend jumping out of moving cars every day.”
“Did we get any information out of him?” JD asked.
“Aaron is leaning on him pretty hard. He’ll probably lawyer up pretty soon, but he says the other guy was just a customer,” Red explained, which was what JD had figured. At least they got the dealer this time. Usually it was the other way around. “Did you send in your statement?”
JD nodded and stood up. It was time for him to go back out on patrol. At least this time of night he’d have a vehicle. “I’ll head out with you.” Red walked him to the parking lot, and they got in their respective cars. “Stay safe.”
“You too.” JD started the engine, then pulled out of the lot. He drove through town and turned into the same side street he and Red had gone down earlier. It was empty this time, and he continued on.
The snow was getting heavier, and he drove carefully as visibility got worse and the streets more slippery. Toward the end of his shift, he made one last tour of town. He passed the square and saw a single figure on one of the benches in the courthouse square. JD knew there was nothing wrong with sitting on the bench, but it was after eleven and cold as hell. He pulled to the side of the street and got out, then walked up to the man.
He was hunched and curled into his coat, arms wrapped around himself, chin to his chest.
“Sir, are you all right?”
The man looked up and then lowered his gaze once again, saying nothing.
“Sir, is something wrong? It’s way too late and too cold to be out here. You should head on home.”
“I’m fine. Doesn’t matter, anyway. No one cares.” He lowered his gaze once again and continued sitting where he was.
“You’ll be a lot warmer and safer if you go home.” JD was becoming concerned. “I can help if you like? Can you tell me where you live?”
“Of course I can. But it doesn’t matter. Nothing matters.” He got to his feet. He seemed steady enough. “People are crap, you know that? Everyone takes advantage of everyone else, and no one gives a crap about it.” He took a few steps, weaving slightly, and then he straightened up and headed off toward the courthouse. “No one cares about anything or anyone.”
“Do you need some help?” JD asked.
“No. There’s nothing you can do.” He walked off and JD watched him go. Something wasn’t right, but he was cold and the guy seemed harmless enough. JD went back to his car and slowly drove down the road. He saw where the man turned, and then watched as he went inside one of the apartment buildings in the first block of Pomfret.
His phone rang, so JD pulled to a stop before answering it. “You heading back to the station?” Red asked.
“Yeah.” He checked the time.
“Terry is going to meet me at Applebee’s. They’re still open, and we can get something to eat.” Red had been nice enough to befriend him when he’d joined the force six months earlier.
“Sounds good. Let me get back and finish up. I’ll meet you there.”
JD drove back to the station, checked in, and then left. The snow barely covered the ground, but it was enough to make him itchier about driving. He knew people here didn’t think too much about a little snow, but he’d rarely driven in it back home. As he clutched the wheel, he tried to remember the last time he’d actually driven in snow. It must have been four or five years ago.
JD approached Hanover Street and saw a hunched figure walking back toward the square. JD knew he was off duty, but he turned left instead of right anyway. He watched as the man went back to the same bench and sat down. There was something very wrong.
JD pulled off the road, then got out and jogged across the street to where the man sat. “I thought you’d gone home,” JD said gently.
“This is my bench. I like it here.”
“Dude, it’s really cold, and you’re going to get sick.” JD helped him to his feet. “It’s also really late. You need to get home where it’s safe and warm.” He hoped the guy wasn’t sick, but he couldn’t leave him out in this weather. “When was the last time you ate?”
The man shrugged. JD looked at his arm, checking for a medical bracelet. He’d had a friend who acted like this sometimes, a little loopy and strange. He’d been diabetic, and when his blood sugar got wacky, he’d act really out of it. “Why don’t you come with me, and I’ll see about getting you something to eat.”
“Okay,” the man agreed, and JD helped him walk across the street. He got him into the car, wondering what Red was going to think when he showed up with a stranger. The guy sat quietly, lightly fidgeting with his hands as JD drove to the edge of town and pulled into the restaurant parking lot.
“Let’s get you something to eat, and then maybe you’ll feel better.” JD had committed himself now. He’d crossed a line between officer and public a long time ago—and if this turned out badly, he could be in a hell of a lot of trouble—but something told him the guy wasn’t dangerous, just a little confused.
He parked and they got out, the man following docilely.
Red met him at the restaurant door, staring quizzically. “Who’s this?”
“He’s….” Shit, how was he going to explain this? “A guy who needs some help.”
Red turned slightly, looking at JD like he’d truly lost his mind. “Is that some Southern thing?” Red asked.
“It’s a human thing,” JD answered.
“HEADING OUT on patrol?” Red asked as JD Burnside stopped to grab his coat and hat before going outside. Red looked him over and shook his head. “Here. You’re going to need these gloves, and put on an extra pair of socks.”
“It’s only November…,” JD said, getting a little worried.
“Maybe, but the wind will go right through you, and they have you on foot patrol in the square. That cold concrete is going to leach the heat right out through your shoes unless you have something extra on.”
JD sighed and sat back down in the locker room, going through his things until he came up with a second pair of socks. He slipped off his boots and pulled them on. Instantly his feet began to sweat, but he ignored it and pulled on his now-tight boots. “Is there anything else I should know?”
“Be sure to keep your citation book handy. Fallfest is just winding down, and everyone should be going home, but that also means the heavy-duty revelers will take it into the bars, so be on the lookout for people weaving and bobbing. We don’t want them driving home.”
“Is that why I’m supposed to be outside in god-awful weather like this instead of tucked in a nice warm patrol car like a regular person?” At least the patrol car would have heat. JD had not gotten used to the weather up in Central Pennsylvania, and he was beginning to realize that his first winter here was going to be hard as hell to get through.
“We always have someone visible to deter drunk driving. I did it two years ago, and Carter had the glorious honor last year. It’s only for a day, and all you need to do is keep yourself warm and your eyes open. Everyone will empty out in three or four hours, and then you can come on back and grab a patrol car. These are always interesting evenings.”
“Yeah?” JD inquired as he got to his feet.
Red grinned. “A few years ago, they had this cow parade thing where artists decorated fiberglass cows and they put them around the area. There were four of them in town, and one was on the square. That year we had someone decide it was a bull and that he was going to ride it… buck naked in the middle of town.” Red began to laugh. “By the time we got to him, he’d turned half-blue and all his friends were getting ready to take their turn. We stopped them before the entire crowd turned into a streak-fest.”
“What happened to the naked guy?”
“We hauled him away for indecent exposure, and he got a fine. The thing is, this may be a small town, but we have some crazies when they drink. So keep an eye out and call if you see anything. I’ll be around and will stop by to check on you.”
JD thanked Red for his help and the story, which had brightened his mood a little. He made sure he had everything and slammed his locker closed before leaving the station and heading out through town toward the square.
He was a block away from the square. When he arrived, he glanced up at the clock tower on the old courthouse to check the time.
“Assault in progress, courthouse common” came through his radio.
JD responded and raced forward, heart pounding. He rounded the courthouse and saw a group of three college students crowded around one of the benches.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing, old man?” one of the boys was yelling, the sound carrying through the square. The others yelled as well.
“What’s going on?” JD projected in his best police voice. The students backed away, hands exposed, which JD liked. At least they didn’t seem to be a threat to him.
“This old guy was about to take a leak on the veterans’ memorial,” said the kid who’d been doing the yelling. “We sat him down and were trying to talk to him, but he tried to hit Hooper here.” He took a further step back and gave JD room. A man in his late sixties, if JD had to guess, sat on the bench, shaking like a leaf. The front of his pants was wet, and he smelled. When JD touched him, the man felt cold, and he continued to shiver. JD tried more than once to get the man to look at him, and when he finally did, his eyes were vacant and half-lidded.
“I need an ambulance on High Street next to the old courthouse,” JD called in. The man continued to shiver and shake. This wasn’t just from the cold. The scent of alcohol permeated even the mess he’d made of himself. The man needed help.
“Is he going to be all right?” Hooper asked. “We didn’t hurt him or anything. He was going to take a leak right there on the memorial, and we tried to stop him and help him sit down, but he swung at me and nearly fell.” The kid seemed upset. His eyes were as big as saucers.
“Did he hit you?” JD asked.
“No. He was too slow. But David here, the big idiot, started yelling, and that must have been what you heard.”
“How much have you had to drink?” JD asked David.
“Enough to know I won’t be driving,” David answered with blinky eyes.
“None of you had better,” JD advised.
“I’m their ride,” Hooper said. “I hate the taste of the stuff, so they buy me food and Cokes, and I drive the idiots home.” One of Hooper’s friends bumped him on the shoulder.
JD turned back to the old man, who was rocking slightly from side to side. JD tried to get his name, but he was becoming more and more unresponsive. JD got the students’ information and sent them on their way. He could check with them if he needed to, but what they’d said rang true.
There must have been plenty of calls already, but an ambulance finally arrived and they got the man settled into it. He didn’t have any identification on him. JD made sure to get the information he could, and then the EMTs took the man to the hospital.
At least during that excitement he hadn’t had a chance to be cold. Once the ambulance pulled away, the square turned quiet. Dry leaves rustled in the trees, and wisps flashed in the lights that lit the side of the old courthouse. JD shivered when he realized those wisps were snow. God, he was going to freeze to death here.
JD pushed that thought aside and walked around the square, then along the side streets, watching for trouble. He passed a few people still huddled on the benches, but he figured they’d soon give up and head on home.
Now that the streets were no longer blocked off for the festival, traffic continued flowing through the main intersection, as it usually did. JD returned to the intersection, crossed High Street and then Hanover, then continued around to the narrow side street that ran next to one of the churches on the square. He hated that street. It wasn’t well lit and there were plenty of shadows.
He peered down to check for movement and was preparing to move on when Red pulled up in a patrol car. JD opened the passenger door and got inside.
“I saw you heading this way and thought we could take a ride for a while,” Red said.
JD was eternally grateful as he soaked up the heat inside the car. “I hate that street.”
“We all do. The chief is going to demand a streetlight. The church has been fighting it because they say it will mess up the light coming in from the stained-glass windows or something. But lately it’s become a real hazard.” Red put the car in gear and made the turn, slowly rolling down the street.
At the slight bend, two figures raced out of a corner and took off down the street toward the church’s back parking lot. Red flipped on his lights while JD jumped out and took off on foot. Red raced past him to try to head the men off.
JD was fast. He had run track in high school and college, and no street punk was going to outrun him. He pounded the pavement, feet racing. One of the men dodged and got away once, but when he tried it again, JD was ready and grabbed the back of his coat, yanking the man to a stop.
He fell to the ground and rolled. JD stayed on his feet, and when the man stopped rolling, JD knelt and placed his knee on his back.
“I wasn’t doing nothing,” the man protested.
“Yeah, I’m sure,” JD said as Red pulled up.
“The other one got away,” Red said angrily.
“This one was throwing things out of his pocket as he ran,” JD said, pointing back the way they’d come.
“Oh man. You going to try to pin shit on me now?” the man asked as he shifted on the ground.
JD cuffed him and made sure he was secure. “Nope. I’m going to make sure you get what you’ve got coming to you.” JD watched as Red carefully photographed and tagged what had been thrown aside. The law had been the family profession for generations, so JD had decided to become a police officer. But once he’d started down the path, he’d discovered a love of fair play, protecting others, and enforcing the law. Maybe it was genetic? He wasn’t sure.
Other sirens sounded, and soon two more cars joined them, bathing JD and the suspect in headlights.
“What have we here?” Aaron Cloud, one of the detectives, asked as he got out of his car.
“Cocaine, by the looks of it,” Red answered. “Enough of it that he’s going to be doing some long, hard time.”
“That ain’t mine,” the suspect said.
JD shook his head. “I saw him throwing it out of his pockets, with his bare hands, as I chased him. It was his. His prints will be on the bags.” The guy must be an idiot.
“Go ahead and read him his rights. We’ll take him down to the station.”
“There was another man with him,” Red said. “JD here jumped out of the car when we saw him, took off like a shot, and got this guy. I followed the other man, but he ran between the houses over there and disappeared across High Street.”
“We’ll find out who he was,” Aaron said, looking down at the suspect. “Won’t we?” The menacing tone Aaron used had the guy shaking a little. JD knew it was an act. Detective Cloud was a “by the book” kind of guy, but if he hadn’t been a police officer, he could have had a career in Hollywood.
Aaron took custody of the suspect, and JD helped Red confirm they had found everything that had been thrown by their suspect before driving to the station.
“I don’t think I’ve ever been so grateful for a drug bust in my life,” JD said as they rode, the wipers swishing back and forth to wipe the falling snow from the windshield.
They passed the square slowly. JD turned when he saw movement. A man stood up from one of the benches and slowly walked away. “Are there always people on those benches? They have to be freezing in this weather.”
“Yeah. People sit there all day long. They have their favorite spots, and heaven help anyone who tries to take it. Mostly people just pass them by and don’t really notice them.” Red made the turn and continued to the station. JD pulled his mind away from the bench sitters back to the report he was going to have to help write.
At least the station was warm. JD went to his desk and got to work putting together his statement of events.
“You did good,” Red told him as he passed. “Though I don’t recommend jumping out of moving cars every day.”
“Did we get any information out of him?” JD asked.
“Aaron is leaning on him pretty hard. He’ll probably lawyer up pretty soon, but he says the other guy was just a customer,” Red explained, which was what JD had figured. At least they got the dealer this time. Usually it was the other way around. “Did you send in your statement?”
JD nodded and stood up. It was time for him to go back out on patrol. At least this time of night he’d have a vehicle. “I’ll head out with you.” Red walked him to the parking lot, and they got in their respective cars. “Stay safe.”
“You too.” JD started the engine, then pulled out of the lot. He drove through town and turned into the same side street he and Red had gone down earlier. It was empty this time, and he continued on.
The snow was getting heavier, and he drove carefully as visibility got worse and the streets more slippery. Toward the end of his shift, he made one last tour of town. He passed the square and saw a single figure on one of the benches in the courthouse square. JD knew there was nothing wrong with sitting on the bench, but it was after eleven and cold as hell. He pulled to the side of the street and got out, then walked up to the man.
He was hunched and curled into his coat, arms wrapped around himself, chin to his chest.
“Sir, are you all right?”
The man looked up and then lowered his gaze once again, saying nothing.
“Sir, is something wrong? It’s way too late and too cold to be out here. You should head on home.”
“I’m fine. Doesn’t matter, anyway. No one cares.” He lowered his gaze once again and continued sitting where he was.
“You’ll be a lot warmer and safer if you go home.” JD was becoming concerned. “I can help if you like? Can you tell me where you live?”
“Of course I can. But it doesn’t matter. Nothing matters.” He got to his feet. He seemed steady enough. “People are crap, you know that? Everyone takes advantage of everyone else, and no one gives a crap about it.” He took a few steps, weaving slightly, and then he straightened up and headed off toward the courthouse. “No one cares about anything or anyone.”
“Do you need some help?” JD asked.
“No. There’s nothing you can do.” He walked off and JD watched him go. Something wasn’t right, but he was cold and the guy seemed harmless enough. JD went back to his car and slowly drove down the road. He saw where the man turned, and then watched as he went inside one of the apartment buildings in the first block of Pomfret.
His phone rang, so JD pulled to a stop before answering it. “You heading back to the station?” Red asked.
“Yeah.” He checked the time.
“Terry is going to meet me at Applebee’s. They’re still open, and we can get something to eat.” Red had been nice enough to befriend him when he’d joined the force six months earlier.
“Sounds good. Let me get back and finish up. I’ll meet you there.”
JD drove back to the station, checked in, and then left. The snow barely covered the ground, but it was enough to make him itchier about driving. He knew people here didn’t think too much about a little snow, but he’d rarely driven in it back home. As he clutched the wheel, he tried to remember the last time he’d actually driven in snow. It must have been four or five years ago.
JD approached Hanover Street and saw a hunched figure walking back toward the square. JD knew he was off duty, but he turned left instead of right anyway. He watched as the man went back to the same bench and sat down. There was something very wrong.
JD pulled off the road, then got out and jogged across the street to where the man sat. “I thought you’d gone home,” JD said gently.
“This is my bench. I like it here.”
“Dude, it’s really cold, and you’re going to get sick.” JD helped him to his feet. “It’s also really late. You need to get home where it’s safe and warm.” He hoped the guy wasn’t sick, but he couldn’t leave him out in this weather. “When was the last time you ate?”
The man shrugged. JD looked at his arm, checking for a medical bracelet. He’d had a friend who acted like this sometimes, a little loopy and strange. He’d been diabetic, and when his blood sugar got wacky, he’d act really out of it. “Why don’t you come with me, and I’ll see about getting you something to eat.”
“Okay,” the man agreed, and JD helped him walk across the street. He got him into the car, wondering what Red was going to think when he showed up with a stranger. The guy sat quietly, lightly fidgeting with his hands as JD drove to the edge of town and pulled into the restaurant parking lot.
“Let’s get you something to eat, and then maybe you’ll feel better.” JD had committed himself now. He’d crossed a line between officer and public a long time ago—and if this turned out badly, he could be in a hell of a lot of trouble—but something told him the guy wasn’t dangerous, just a little confused.
He parked and they got out, the man following docilely.
Red met him at the restaurant door, staring quizzically. “Who’s this?”
“He’s….” Shit, how was he going to explain this? “A guy who needs some help.”
Red turned slightly, looking at JD like he’d truly lost his mind. “Is that some Southern thing?” Red asked.
“It’s a human thing,” JD answered.
Fire & Hail #5
TRAFFIC DUTY. Of course they assigned him traffic enforcement. Brock Ferguson was the newbie in the department in every way.
Hell, he wasn’t going to complain—he knew he was the luckiest guy on earth to have this job at all. When he’d applied, he was told there weren’t any openings and they’d put his résumé in the file in case something came up. He hadn’t had much hope, but then he’d been called for an interview just ten days later because one of the officers decided to move back South. He’d worked hard to make a good impression and seemed to have pulled it off. Of course, that meant he now got to sit in a patrol car watching vehicles as they passed by, their speeds registering on the radar system installed in the dashboard.
Vehicles of every description passed in front of him, everything from tiny Smart cars to huge semitrailers. He checked the speed of each one and yawned. Hours of sitting with the engine running, and even then the air-conditioning barely kept up with the heat from the sun pouring through the windows. It was like being in a tin can roasting in an oven, with no place to go. Brock hadn’t moved in forever. It seemed the word was out about where he’d been stationed. Everyone was slowing down, driving sedately past him, and probably speeding up as soon as they were out of sight. Still, he knew the purpose of him being there was to act more as a deterrent and get people to slow down in the first place.
A red sports car with the convertible top down passed, going fast enough that the radar peeped. Brock put the car in gear, flipped on his lights, and pulled out, joining the flow of traffic and keeping the offender in sight. As he drove, he called in to report the stop and gave the license plate to the dispatcher to make sure the car hadn’t been reported stolen. The other cars got out of the way, and when Brock stayed behind the offender, the driver pulled to the side. Now he needed to be careful. Traffic stops, while routine, could also be dangerous. He got out of his car and walked up to the other vehicle, where a head of thick black hair poked up above the seat.
“Could I see your license and registration, please?” Brock asked as he looked over the inside of the car, checking for any sort of weapon. “Do you know how fast you were going?”
The driver turned to him, and Brock stared into a very familiar set of eyes.
“Vinny,” Brock said, relaxing a little. “I see you still drive like a bat out of hell.” He waited for him to hand over his license. “I guess some things never change.”
“I prefer Vincent now,” he said.
Brock ignored the comment and went back to his car to run the information. Not that he needed the driver’s license. He knew everything there was to know about Vincent Geraldini. He’d learned enough while the two of them dated years earlier. Granted, it hadn’t been for very long, but just as Brock thought they might be getting serious, Vinny—Vincent—had backed away.
Vinny’s record came back clean, and Brock sat in his car a little longer than was necessary, thinking about what he was going to do. At the speed Vinny had been going, writing a citation was discretionary, so Brock was still debating. Maybe he could write him one for being a dickweed. Brock opened the door, got out of his car again, and returned to Vinny.
“Are you going to give me a ticket?” Vinny asked. He was always the kind of guy who tackled things head-on. It had been one of the things Brock had first liked about him. There was no backing down in Vinny. He always asked what he wanted to know and stared people down until he got an answer.
“I’m still deciding.” Brock opened his pad and began writing. Usually he’d do that in the car, but he wanted Vinny to squirm a little and wonder exactly what he was doing. Not getting the answers he wanted was one of the things Brock knew would get under Vinny’s skin, and he wanted that at the moment. Sometimes it was easy to do, such as moments like this when Vinny was not the one in control. “Are you visiting?” Brock asked, having noticed that the address on Vinny’s license read Shippensburg.
“No. I moved back to Carlisle recently and I still have to get the address on my license changed.” Vinny gave him his new address, and Brock added that to the information on the sheet.
Brock had to force himself to keep writing when Vinny turned his way once again, tilting his head upward just enough that Brock got a good look into his intense brown eyes with their flecks of gold. For a split second, he flashed on a memory of just how those eyes shone in the afternoon sun, his olive-colored skin contrasted against the blanket, covered with a light sheen of sweat as Brock leaned over him…. Brock took a deep breath, released it, and hoped like hell that Vinny hadn’t seen anything in his expression. What had happened between them had no bearing on today and how he was going to react.
“I’m going to give you a warning. But….” Brock leaned over the side of the car, his gaze zeroing in on Vinny, and he suppressed a smile when he saw him shudder a little. “This will stay in your file here, and if you get stopped again, this will turn into a citation, along with the one the officer is sure to give you then. So slow down and drive safely.”
“Of course, Brock.” The momentary heat in Vinny’s eyes dissipated as he took the slip of paper. “I’ll be careful.”
Brock glared for a split second. He wasn’t buying that act. Vinny had never been one of those guys who played it safe. Not at least as far as Brock knew.
He patted the door of the car twice and stepped back. “Have a good day.” He turned to walk back to his patrol car.
“Is that all?” Vinny asked.
Brock continued walking and got inside, watching as Vinny pulled out into traffic and guided his car up to the next intersection. Brock turned off his lights, merged as well, and made his way to his original location. He turned on his radar equipment and settled into his routine. He called in to let dispatch know he was back at his location and then tried to get comfortable.
That stop seemed to be his excitement for the morning. Well, that and the fact that now that he’d seen Vinny again, he couldn’t seem to get his mind back where it belonged. He watched cars go by and paid attention to the radar, but his mind kept wandering to the summer between his junior and senior year of college. Maybe he and Vinny were too young at that point to have really made a go of it, but Brock had fallen in love with the olive-skinned, vibrant, take-no-prisoners Vinny. But obviously the feelings hadn’t been returned. Either that or what they’d had was just some summer fling to Vinny that was over as soon as the weather broke and they went back to school. The heat of those summer months, both outside and between them, was something Brock wasn’t ever likely to forget. He grew warm and shifted in his seat just remembering it.
Not that he particularly wanted to spend part of his day thinking about Vinny and what he’d thought they had together. Brock had had other boyfriends since then, but none of them had made him feel quite the way Vinny did. Oh, they got him excited, and he even fell in love once, but in a less soul touching way, whereas Vinny could get his heart racing with just a coy look. They didn’t need to be in the same room. A text from Vinny would have Brock excited just to hear from him. Of course, as he looked back on it, he had been stupid to give his heart and become so invested in things with Vinny so quickly. In the end he’d gotten his heart broken, and Brock let that stew in his mind for a while in order to help him pull his head back onto the task at hand.
A message came through his in-car computer, telling him there were no pending calls, so he decided to go to lunch. Brock sighed with relief and pulled out of his spot, making a right onto Hanover and heading for downtown. Carter Schunk, a friend and fellow officer, had arranged to meet him at the Hanover Grille for lunch.
Brock pulled into town, drove past rows of historic homes and the colonial-era red brick courthouse with its white clock tower, and through the square with its impressive churches. He loved how the old town had a past, and she wore it well. Brock parked in the lot behind the restaurant in one of the spots designated for law enforcement vehicles, because of its proximity to the courthouse, and walked around to the front door. Carter already had a table, and Brock joined him.
“How did it go?”
“Boring,” Brock answered with a slight smile. “Exactly what you told me it would be.”
“I heard your call about a stop.” Carter handed Brock a menu but didn’t open one himself. The Grille was a regular lunch place and Brock pretty much knew the menu by heart. It had been the place his mom took him when they went out to dinner, and it hadn’t changed much over the years.
“I made one, and it turned out to be Vinny….”
“Someone you knew?” Carter leaned a little closer.
“Quite well at one time, if you know what I mean.”
Mary, the server they saw most days at lunch, brought them water, and they each ordered a burger with a salad and some ice tea. They thanked her, and she hurried to put in their orders.
“I gave him a warning because that’s what I think I would have done for anyone else.”
“Good. Always be fair. That’s the best we can do.”
“I try.” Brock smiled when Mary brought their drinks, and then took a sip, the liquid cooling his parched throat.
“I need to change the subject before I forget. You put in for some additional shifts and they’re coming your way. Red is going on vacation.”
“The big guy with the scars?” Brock was still learning who everyone was.
“That’s him.” Carter glanced around the room and even turned behind him. Brock did the same. It was good to know what was happening around you. They were still in uniform, and with all the shootings of police officers in the national news, they needed to be on alert.
“He was so intimidating the first time I met him, but he seems like a really good guy.”
“He’s leaving tomorrow to join his partner in Rio. Terry is on the US Olympic swimming team, and Red is going to watch him compete. I wish I could afford to go too, but with him gone, I put in for you to ride with me for a few weeks, and the captain agreed. So it looks like you’re off traffic duty, for a little while anyway.”
Brock was shocked. He hadn’t expected something like this so soon. “Thanks.”
“Don’t thank me just yet. You might wish you were on traffic duty after two weeks of second shift. It can be very active, especially during the summer. People hole up inside during the day and then come out once the sun goes down and it cools off, with a lot of pent-up energy and frustration. Tempers flare. We get a lot of domestic disturbance calls.”
“It has to beat sitting in a car all day, baking like a ham.”
Carter flashed him a look of amusement. “Pun intended.”
Brock blinked. He didn’t get it.
“Ham… pig….”
Brock groaned and changed the subject. “Do you know if Terry and Red had to take special precautions with the Zika virus and all?”
“Red said he had so many shots, he felt like a pincushion. He and Terry had to be inoculated for everything, and apparently, the US Olympic Committee is bringing its own drinking water for the athletes and their families. They don’t want anyone to get sick. Terry and Red briefly talked about him backing out, but Terry is old enough that this is his last shot at the Olympics. In four years he’ll be too old, so they decided to take the chance.” Carter grinned. “Red would move heaven and earth to see that Terry’s happy, and the reverse is also true.”
“How are things with you? How’s Alex?” Brock had met Carter and Donald’s son a few times, and the six-year-old was completely adorable.
“He’s growing like a weed and getting bigger every day. He’s so excited to be going into the first grade. Unfortunately, he didn’t like his kindergarten teacher, and Donald had to step in and get him moved into a different class. He loved Mrs. Bobb and made up the ground he was behind because of her. So this year he was apprehensive until Donald and I took him down to meet his new teacher. He stood behind my legs at first and refused to look at her because he still wanted Mrs. Bobb as his teacher again and didn’t understand why if he was going to first grade, she wasn’t coming along too. Mr. Keller was patient and gave Alex time. He’s still a little apprehensive around men he doesn’t know, but after a while, they started talking, and by the end, Alex turned to us and asked if school started tomorrow.” Carter took a drink of his tea. “Sorry, I slipped into proud parent mode.”
“Nothing to be sorry for. I asked.” Brock missed his niece and nephew—he hadn’t seen them since they were toddlers.
Mary brought their food and grabbed their glasses for refills. “There you are. I’ll be back in a minute. Can I bring anything besides drinks?”
“Looks good.”
“Thank you.”
She left, and Brock dug into his burger. He was so dang hungry, he could eat a mule whole. Their conversation drew to a halt for a while until the edge on their hunger seemed to have abated.
“So will we be working double shifts while Red and Terry are gone?”
“A few, maybe. But the plan is for us to work seven days, and some of the other guys will give up days off as well. The money will be good, and it’s only for a few weeks, so be sure to get plenty of rest when you’re off. These constant days can drag unless you’re eating and sleeping well.”
They returned to their food, and Mary brought drink refills. Once they were done, Carter excused himself to go to the restroom. Brock again scanned the room and saw Vinny come in with a group of guys. Vinny hadn’t seemed to notice Brock, which was fine.
Still, every few seconds his attention returned to Vinny and the group. Vinny couldn’t see him because his back was mostly to Brock, but Brock saw him talking animatedly, waving his hands before sitting back to laugh—a deep, rich sound he couldn’t completely hear, but knew anyway. The others around the table joined in, and Brock turned away. He wasn’t included in their fun, and even when he and Vinny dated—fucked, whatever it had been—he hadn’t been included in the other parts of Vinny’s life.
“Do you need anything?” Carter asked.
Brock shook his head and silently berated himself for not being more vigilant about what was happening around him. He hadn’t heard Carter come back because he’d let his personal thoughts drag him on a woolgathering expedition, and that needed to stop.
Carter sat down, and Brock went back to use the restroom. He did his business, washed his hands, and used a cold towel to sponge off his face. Once he was done, he rejoined Carter and they paid their bills.
“Have a good afternoon, and tomorrow we’ll ride together.” Carter walked with him to their parked cars. They got in and pulled out of the lot, each going their separate directions.
Brock spent the rest of the day in a few places around town that were notorious for speeders and wrote a number of citations. At least it gave him something to do. He checked the clock and smiled. He had less than half an hour before he could go back to the station and clock out for the day. Brock was very ready.
“All units,” he heard over the radio. “Please be on the lookout for yellow recent-model Corvette convertible driven by two women. Stop if seen, but use caution. There is a report that there are children in the trunk.” Brock blinked and listened more intently, making sure he’d heard correctly. “I repeat, there are reportedly children locked in the trunk of the car.”
“Holy shit,” Brock said to himself. He’d heard stories of what people would do to each other and to children, but this was a surprise even to him.
Brock returned his attention to the road in front of him, one of the main roads from Carlisle to Harrisburg, and sure enough, a yellow Corvette turned his direction from a block away. “I have a possible sighting of the Corvette on Harrisburg Pike headed east. Two women, top down, plate HUF–9080. I am about to intercept and will make it appear a routine traffic stop. Send backup.”
“I’m on my way,” Carter said.
Brock pulled out, maneuvered until he was behind the car, and then flipped on his lights. The Corvette kept going, so Brock put on his siren. Finally the women pulled over and Brock got out of his car.
Carter pulled behind him in his cruiser. He got out as well, and they converged on the women sitting in the expensive two-seater convertible. “May I see your license and registration, please?” Brock asked the driver. Muffled sounds from the back of the car gave him pause. “Please unlock your trunk.” He met the driver’s gaze, but she made no move to comply and stared at him with vacant eyes.
“Get out of the car and keep your hands where I can see them, both of you,” Carter barked, hand on his weapon and ready to draw, and Brock stepped away to give the driver space while the women did as he asked.
“You can’t do this,” the passenger said as Carter had her place both her hands on the hood of the car, her legs spread.
Once Carter had eyes on both women, Brock reached inside the car and found the trunk release. He pressed it, went to the back, and opened the tiny trunk lid. Two sets of eyes peered out from inside.
“It’s okay, sweethearts. No one is going to hurt you.” He pushed the lid all the way open, and a little girl in a pink sundress and white-and-pink-striped tights stood up. Brock guessed she was about three. “We need assistance at Harrisburg Pike near East. I can confirm two children in the trunk. They seem okay so far.” He kept his voice as calm and level as possible.
A boy, about five years old, carefully climbed out of the trunk. “Mama,” he said, pointing to the woman who had been driving the car.
Brock glared at the woman. He had trouble imagining how anyone could be so heartless and cruel as to lock two small children in the trunk of a car on one of the hottest days of the year and then go out joy riding. Not only was it a miracle that they weren’t hurt from being tossed around inside the confined space, but it was lucky they hadn’t been injured from the heat.
He escorted the children onto the grass and into the shade of a nearby tree, then knelt down so he could be more on their level and less intimidating. “I’m Brock. What are your names?”
“Abey, and this is Penny,” the little boy answered and then pointed to the car. “It was scary in there.”
Penny had her thumb in her mouth and stayed close to Abey.
“Is Penny your sister?” Brock asked, and Abey nodded. “Did you take care of her while you were in there?”
“Yes. I held her when we rolled around.”
“You were a very brave big boy.” Brock didn’t know what else to say, but Abey nodded. “Can you stay right here with Penny?” Brock asked as he heard cars approaching. He stood to watch the scene but stayed close to the children.
Two other police vehicles stopped nearby. Both Kip Rogers and Aaron Cloud got out of their vehicles. Aaron was the ranking officer and he’d probably take charge of the scene. Brock stayed where he was as Kip helped Carter handcuff both women and get them loaded into the back of separate police cars. Then Aaron made his way toward Brock and the kids.
“Did you find out why they were in the trunk?” Brock’s heart went out to both children as Aaron stepped away a few feet.
“The car belongs to the passenger, Brenda Weaver, and apparently she’d just bought the car and drove it over to show Rhonda Geraldini. Rhonda wanted to take the car for a spin, and since there was no backseat and she didn’t have a babysitter, she put the kids in the trunk and the women decided to go for a ride.”
“My God,” Brock said softly. Vinny’s sister. Sometimes it was a small, sick world.
“Her excuse was that she thought the kids would be fine and that they weren’t going very far or very fast. Oh, and that there was no backseat in the car for the kids to ride in anyway.” Aaron rolled his eyes.
Brock turned back to the kids and forced a smile. “This is Abey and Penny. Abey held and protected his sister while they were in there so that she wouldn’t get hurt. He’s a very good big brother.”
“Where did they take Mama?” Abey picked at his sleeve, swaying from foot to foot.
“It’s all right. She shouldn’t have put you and Penny in the trunk, so the officers are going to talk with her.” He turned to Aaron, floundering.
“Carter called for some help, and his husband, Donald, is on the way.”
Brock nodded. “I’ve met his family.” That was a huge relief. Donald would know exactly what to do and how to help make sure the kids remained calm. “I’ll stay with the kids here in the shade if you want me too.”
“Perfect. We’ll handle the rest.” Aaron left them, and shortly after, Penny pulled on Abey’s sleeve.
“Penny has to go potty,” Abey said.
“Okay.” He caught Aaron’s eye and motioned to the gas station next door. Then he took each of their hands and gently led them across the grass and into the store. There was just a single bathroom, and Brock waited outside while Abey took Penny inside. He kept watch and listened for any issues. Soon the heavy door moved, and Brock helped open it. They came out, Abey holding Penny’s hand.
“Did you wash up?” Brock smiled when they both nodded, and he led them back through the store. At the register, Brock bought two boxes of animal crackers and handed one to each of them. He also got some bottles of water, then walked the kids across the parking lot to where Donald was waiting for them. “Abey and Penny, this is Mr. Donald. He’s going to be your friend and he’ll help you. I promise. He’s a very nice man.”
Abey’s lower lip quivered, and Penny stepped behind her brother. Brock suspected that all this was way more than they could handle and fear was really setting in.
“I’m going to take both of you to stay with a friend of mine. Okay?” Even Brock found Donald’s voice soothing.
Abey shook his head, turned to Penny, and put his arms around her to shield her from Donald. “No strangers. Mama says so.”
“Am I a stranger?” Brock asked, and Abey turned to look at him but didn’t move away from Penny.
“Yes,” he answered. “But you’re a nice stranger.” He turned and held his box of cookies close to him, and Penny mimicked her brother.
Brock wanted to cry right there by the side of the road. He blinked and had to turn away. Damn it, he wasn’t supposed to get emotional when he was on the job. Take whatever you see, bury it, cover it up, and make it stay there. That’s what he was supposed to do. But how in the hell was that possible when he was looking into two pairs of wide, frightened blue eyes?
“Do you want me to go with you?”
Abey thought a second, screwing up his face in a look of concentration, and then finally nodded. Abey seemed to trust Brock, at least initially.
“Will you stay here with Penny?” Brock asked Abey, and he nodded, holding his sister’s hand. Then Brock and Donald took a few steps away. “I can ride with you to where you’re taking them.”
“That’s the problem. I don’t have a single home with room for two kids. All I have are two separate emergency foster care homes, and they are limited to taking one each at the moment.”
Brock’s gaze hardened and he glared at Donald. “You can’t split them up. They just saw their mother taken away in a police car. Look at him—he’ll fight you tooth and nail if you try to separate him from Penny, and the poor little thing will come apart. She’s already got half her hand in her mouth, she’s under so much stress.”
“Emergency foster homes require special certification, and I can’t just make things up as I go along. I have to go by the book. These are court matters.”
“Crap….” Brock wished he could do something—anything—about the fear in their eyes. “You do what you have to do, but so help me God….” Maybe this profession wasn’t the right one for him. “I took an oath to protect and serve, and if I can’t help little ones like them, then what the hell good am I in the first place?” Brock couldn’t just walk away.
Donald sighed and turned to look to where Carter was searching the car. Brock saw the moment Carter realized Donald was looking at him. He could almost see the zing of awareness that passed between them, it was so strong.
Carter and Donald seemed to communicate with each other without saying a word, and Brock saw Carter nod to Donald, who smiled and then turned back to him. “Carter and I will take them in. I’m certified as an emergency foster home, and we have enough room for the two of them if they share a room.”
“I doubt you’re going to get them to sleep apart.”
“You’re probably right, though I think Penny is going to need a bed with a rail to ensure she doesn’t roll out, but I can accommodate that.”
Brock turned to the kids, who were still frightened. Penny had ripped open her box of crackers and was eating them while Abey still held his with the handle clutched in his fists. He looked about as defiant as a five-year-old could when fear was stalking close by.
“Mr. Donald is going to take you home with him.”
Abey once again shook his head and moved closer to Penny.
“Would it be okay if I went along with you?” Brock asked, and Abey nodded his agreement after a few seconds, looking from Donald and then to him.
“I’ve got a car seat as well as a booster in my car, so the kids can ride with me.”
“I need to clock out, and then I’ll be over to your house as soon as I can get there.” Brock knelt down. “Mr. Donald is going to take you to his house, where he has a lot of really fun toys, and his son, Alex, will be there for you to play with. I promise I’ll be there as soon as I can.” Brock took both kids’ hands, led them to Donald’s car, and got them buckled in. “I promise I’ll be over to see you soon.” Brock closed the door and stepped away from the car. As soon as Donald pulled away, Brock hurried to where Carter and Aaron were comparing notes.
“Are you clocking out?” Carter asked.
“Yes. The kids are with Donald, and I told him I’d be over as soon as I could.”
“Why?” Aaron asked.
Brock thought that was one of the dumbest questions he’d ever heard but kept his reaction off his face. “The kids trust me for some reason, and they’re suspicious of Donald. So I want to make sure they’re okay.”
“Good. Tell Donald I’ll be home as soon as we button things up here and I can get the paperwork done on our ‘mother of the year.’”
Brock got in his car, radioed in, and headed to the station. Once there, he clocked out and left as soon as he could. He made a quick stop at his apartment over Victorian Antiques on Hanover Street, where he changed clothes. Then he headed out, walking the few blocks to Donald’s as fast as possible. He knocked, and Donald answered the door with Penny in his arms, tears streaking her face. She reached for him, so Brock took her and rubbed her back to try to soothe her as he stepped inside.
Abey sat on the sofa, staring at nothing, his little legs sticking out in front of him. He seemed so forlorn, but when he saw Brock, he perked up, slid to the floor, and walked over.
“Penny is fine, little protector,” Brock said, sitting on the sofa. Abey climbed up and sat next to him. “Where’s Alex?”
“He’s at the neighbors’ house, playing with a friend. I have to go over and get him, but I wanted to wait for you. I’ll be right back.” Donald left, and Brock gathered Abey to him with his free arm.
“Are you hungry? You can eat your crackers if you want.”
Abey looked down at the red box covered with circus animals and slowly opened it. He ate one of the animal-shaped crackers inside and then handed one up to Brock. He ate it and thanked Abey for sharing. Penny’s box was on the table, so he leaned over, got one, and handed it up to her. She took it but continued holding him tight, like she had no intention of letting him go.
Donald returned with hurricane Alex, who blew in amid a flurry of storytelling. “Mark said that he was the bestest at bike riding and I said unh-uh, and he said he was, but I beat him so I was right. But he….” His conversation cut off midsentence when he saw Brock and the kids.
“Alex, this is Penny and Abey. They’re going to be staying with us for a little while. Is that okay?”
Alex looked up at Donald and then at the two youngsters as though he were thinking. Then he turned back up to Donald. “Are they like me?”
“They’re like you were when you first came to live with me. They need my help. Is that okay?” Brock liked the way Donald always seemed to ask questions rather than forcing the kids to do what he wished. Granted, in the end, Donald got what he wanted, but he always made Alex part of the process.
“I still get my room, right?” Suspicion clouded Alex’s adorable face.
“Of course. They’re going to sleep in the room next to yours.”
“Okay.” Alex walked right over to Abey. “Do you want to play Legos? I got lots of ’em.”
Abey hesitated and then slid down off the sofa, handed Brock his animal crackers, and followed Alex to the corner of the room where his toy box was.
“Do you want to play too?” Brock asked Penny, but she seemed content to stay right where she was. She did lift her head, though, watching the boys.
“They’ve been through a lot in a very short time. All we can do is give comfort. If I knew them, I’d try to find out their routine and stick with it. But we’re going to have to wing it.” Donald approached slowly. “Are you hungry, sweet girl?”
Penny nodded slowly.
“Do you like macaroni and cheese?” Donald asked, and she nodded again.
“I’ll go make some. Do you want to help me?” Donald extended his hand, and Penny looked at it for a while. Brock didn’t think she was going to go for it, but then she took Donald’s hand, and Brock let her go into Donald’s arms. “There you are. Let’s go make some dinner.” He carried Penny into the kitchen, and Brock sat where he was, watching the boys play. Abey seemed content to spend time with Alex and wasn’t fussing as they scooted around the floor, chattering like they were old friends.
Brock pushed to his feet and walked to where Donald had gone. “I think they’re settled now, so I’ll get out of your hair.” There really wasn’t a need for him to be there any longer. Penny and Abey were safe, and Donald knew how to take care of them and would shepherd them to a more permanent living location.
“Stay for dinner. Once the kids are fed, I have some steaks marinating and there’s plenty.” Donald moved around his kitchen with practiced ease, even with Penny in his arms.
“I don’t want to impose, and—”
Donald interrupted him. “Nonsense. You did a great thing today, and the least I can do is feed you. Besides, what are you going to do? Go out and eat more fried stuff, or heat up a TV dinner and sit in front of the television?” Donald pulled out a plastic bag and set it on the counter. The marinating steaks looked dang good, and Brock’s belly let him know it. “And I could use your help. I don’t know when Carter will be home exactly, and I need to log in and see what I can find out about these two, as well as get them in the system, so you’d be doing me a favor.” Donald smiled, and Brock caved and returned to the living room.
It wasn’t long before Donald called the boys in, and Alex held Abey’s hand as they went to eat. Brock followed and took a seat at the table. “I can stay here if you have things to do,” Brock offered.
“Awesome.” Donald hurried out of the room.
“How are you, pretty Penny?” Brock asked. She was getting more of her dinner on her than in her so Brock gave her a hand, using the spoon to feed her. He got smiles for that and even a few giggles. Abey seemed contented enough to chat with his new friend Alex.
The kids were almost done eating when Donald returned. “I was able to get a court time for tomorrow.” Donald’s tone didn’t betray any of the seriousness of what he was saying, and the kids didn’t pay any attention to him. “We can talk more once they’re in bed.”
Brock nodded and returned to the “open the barn door” game duty as he fed Penny.
Carter got home as they finished, and the boys went back into the living room to play. Carter leaned over where Donald sat at the table and kissed him soundly. “I got home as fast as I could.” Carter shook Brock’s hand and sat down himself. “I have the information you’re going to need. The kids’ last name is Geraldini. I was able to search birth records. Their mother is Rhonda Geraldini, who is currently our guest and is likely to remain that way for a while. They might have different fathers, and Rhonda has never been married.”
“Thanks. I’ll check on them in the system in a few minutes.”
“Rhonda has a—”
“Brother…. Vincent,” Brock supplied, and Carter paused, looking at him in astonishment.
“Okay. You’ve either developed ESP or something is going on.” He turned to Donald, who shrugged.
“I used to date Vincent, but that was some time ago. He left town and moved to Shippensburg, but he’s back now and we have his address.” Brock grinned. “Sometimes small-town living is priceless. I gave him a warning for speeding this morning.”
“Okay. Let me call the station and see if we can get his phone number so we can contact him as a possible guardian.” Carter kissed Donald one more time and left the room.
Soon Brock heard him talking on the phone in the other room. “Is it always like this with what you do?” Brock asked.
“Sometimes. People don’t always neglect or hurt their children on a nine-to-five schedule.” Donald got out a plate. “The grill is out back. Would you mind going to light it? Or we’re never going to get some dinner.”
“Sure.” Brock found the grill on the patio in the backyard and easily got it lit. He closed the lid to let it heat and returned to where Donald had started the rest of dinner. Penny sat in her chair, eyes drooping, and Brock figured it was best to let her sleep. He checked on the boys and saw they were having a good time. Legos were strewn all over the living room floor, but the boys seemed to have moved on to playing cars and trucks.
“Alex, buddy, why don’t you pick up the Legos?”
Alex looked at him like he’d just said the dumbest thing ever. “They’re the track.” They zoomed the cars around the room, and it took them a few moments to realize the Legos didn’t make a very good track. Alex gathered them up, and they ran the cars and trucks along the floor, playing like they had known each other forever.
Carter finished what he needed and passed the address information to Donald, then took over kitchen duty while Donald grabbed his laptop and sat next to Brock on the sofa. It was like a balancing act between Carter and Donald. They instinctively seemed to know what the other needed to do and made a way for it to happen.
From where Brock sat, he could see Penny asleep in the high chair and watch Abey and Alex, so he kept vigil while the two of them did what they needed to do.
“Got it.”
“What?”
“A phone number.” Donald grabbed his phone and made a call. He left a message and then hung up. “At least I have the right number, according to the voice mail.”
Donald returned to the kitchen, and Brock watched the children and did his best to stay out of the way. “Don’t the kids need clothes?” Brock asked.
“I have some they can use for the time being, and tomorrow we’ll have to see about getting them some more.” Donald stayed in the kitchen, and Carter approached and sat next to Brock on the sofa.
“Their mother is being charged with multiple counts, and while she may get out on bail, it isn’t likely she’s going to be getting the kids back easily. Not with her history. But that will be up to the courts, of course. Donald and I will keep the kids here until they either get a more permanent placement or are awarded back to their mother.”
“Mama,” Penny suddenly cried from the kitchen, whimpering.
Brock got up, lifted her out of her chair, and carried her back to the living room. Abey stopped playing and stood next to Brock, protecting his sister like he had earlier in the day. Penny continued to cry on Brock’s shoulder.
“It’s all right, sweetheart,” Brock soothed. Her cries must have agitated Abey, so Carter picked him up and set him on his lap. Alex climbed on the sofa, and soon the children surrounded them. It was an amazing feeling to be needed like this.
Penny’s cries eventually died away, and the boys’ energy got the best of them so they returned to their play.
The phone rang in the other room and Donald answered it, then sent Carter out with the plate of steaks. Donald continued talking as he worked and then hung up.
“What is it?” Brock could see Donald’s agitation.
“That was the kids’ uncle. He said that he and his sister are estranged and that he hasn’t seen Abey since he was eighteen months old and has never met Penny. He was shocked to know he had a niece at all.”
“Is he going to come see the kids?”
“I know you and he have a history, but I need to do what’s best for the kids, and having a relationship with family members is the best thing. So I invited him over in an hour. At least he can meet the kids.” Donald paced slowly. “I was hoping for someone the kids knew so that this whole thing would be less of a shock.”
“I don’t think there’s any way around that now.” Brock turned to where all three kids were playing. “They deserve so much better than what happened to them.” He was having a hard time letting go of the image of opening that trunk and seeing those sweet children in there. He’d been warned, but nothing could have prepared him for that. Nothing at all. Brock turned away and reminded himself that no matter what he might have thought of their uncle, what was best for Penny and Abey was what mattered.
Donald called him in to eat. The dining area was open through an archway to the living room, so they could easily see the kids as they ate. None of them talked very much, their attention focused on the three kids. Eventually Penny came over and stood next to Brock’s chair. He lifted her onto his lap, and she settled in. She didn’t seem hungry, even though he offered her some of what he was eating.
“It looks like you made a real friend.”
“I have no idea why,” Brock told Carter.
“Because you helped them. They had to have been terrified being in that trunk, and you got them out and were nice to them.”
Abey approached the table, stood next to Donald, and whispered to him. Donald got up, took Abey by the hand, and led him out of the room. Then Donald returned and sat back down.
“Is he okay?” Brock figured he needed to be shown where the bathroom was, and Donald confirmed his suspicion.
“Yes. Just needed to go to the bathroom.” Donald kept an eye out, and sure enough, Abey returned and began playing with Alex once again.
The doorbell rang just as they finished dinner. Donald took his plate into the kitchen and then went to answer the door. Brock’s tension rose instantly, and when he saw Vincent following Donald into the living room, he wasn’t so sure how he felt about seeing him again. But the near-frantic expression on Vincent’s face pushed aside his own discomfort for the sake of the kids.
“I’m Donald, a social worker with child services, and this is my husband, Carter. And I believe you know Brock already. He and Carter work together.”
Vinny nodded, his attention going right to the little girl still on Brock’s lap. Her little thumb stuck in her mouth and she turned away, hiding her face against Brock’s chest. “I haven’t seen Abey in years, and this little girl….” The hitch in Vinny’s voice caught Brock’s attention.
“Then why don’t you come meet both of them.” Donald led the way to the living room and invited Vinny to sit down. Brock lifted Penny before standing, followed Vinny, and sat next to him. Penny hid once again, but Brock hoped she’d get over the initial shyness if he were patient.
“Were you the one who helped them?” Vinny asked.
“Yes. Do you know what happened?”
Vinny shook his head. “Just that they were taken away.”
“I thought it best to tell him face-to-face rather than on the phone.” Donald sat in one of the two leather recliners and motioned Abey to come over. “This is your Uncle Vincent. He’s your mother’s brother.”
“I met you when you were a baby.” Vinny smiled.
“I’m not a baby anymore. I’m a big boy.” Abey leaned back against Donald. All of this had to be a lot for these kids.
“I can see that.” Vinny kept glancing around the room, confusion reigning.
Abey stared at Vinny and then went back to join Alex where he was playing.
“I think he’s really confused. The kids saw the police take your sister and her friend away.”
Vinny didn’t move as though not sure what to do.
Donald stood, walked over to where Brock sat on the sofa, and lifted Penny into his arms. “I think it’s time for this one to have a bath and then go to sleep.” Donald headed upstairs, and Brock watched as Abey continued to play.
“Apparently a friend of your sister got a new car and they decided to take it out for a ride. It was a Corvette without a backseat, so your sister put the kids in the trunk.” When Vinny gasped, Brock nodded to confirm what he’d said. “Someone reported her, and I stopped the car and found the kids.”
“Where is Rhonda now?”
“She’s in jail, pending a hearing in the morning.”
“Can you get her some help?” Vinny asked as Carter joined them. “My sister has mental health problems. She sometimes hears voices and she’s supposed to be on medication, but she doesn’t always take it. But even when she does, her ability to make sound judgments is compromised.”
“I don’t know. At the moment it’s pretty much up to the courts and social workers. But what about her friend? I would hope that one of them would be able to think clearly.”
“Rhonda doesn’t pick her friends for clear thinking. She picks them based upon their ability to go along with her ideas and notions. So any of Rhonda’s friends aren’t likely to be the kinds of people to act as voices of reason. Is she being tested?”
“Yes. We’re running a number of tests to see if she was impaired in any way. She didn’t seem particularly lucid when I took her into custody.”
Vinny nodded and sat back, putting his hands over his eyes. “I was always afraid of something like this. I knew she’d had Abey, but I didn’t have a clue about Penny. I think I talked to her last about six months ago, and then maybe a year before that. She’d only call when she wanted something, and the last few times, I’ve had to tell her no. I wanted to help, I really did, but she bled my parents dry and ran them into debt. What should have been relatively comfortable retirement years turned into hard ones for them. She pestered and begged for whatever they had, and because Rhonda was their daughter, they gave her what they could.” Vinny seemed about ready to fall apart, which was eye-opening for Brock. Vinny took a deep breath and blinked. “At least the kids are safe.” He released his breath. “So what happens now?”
The trepidation in Vinny’s voice touched Brock. He really cared about these kids and that said something about him. Brock wanted to think of Vinny as being selfish and uncaring. That made the earlier rejection easier to handle. But he wasn’t, and Brock was relieved for Abey and Penny’s sake, but it left him wondering what he’d done wrong.
Hell, he wasn’t going to complain—he knew he was the luckiest guy on earth to have this job at all. When he’d applied, he was told there weren’t any openings and they’d put his résumé in the file in case something came up. He hadn’t had much hope, but then he’d been called for an interview just ten days later because one of the officers decided to move back South. He’d worked hard to make a good impression and seemed to have pulled it off. Of course, that meant he now got to sit in a patrol car watching vehicles as they passed by, their speeds registering on the radar system installed in the dashboard.
Vehicles of every description passed in front of him, everything from tiny Smart cars to huge semitrailers. He checked the speed of each one and yawned. Hours of sitting with the engine running, and even then the air-conditioning barely kept up with the heat from the sun pouring through the windows. It was like being in a tin can roasting in an oven, with no place to go. Brock hadn’t moved in forever. It seemed the word was out about where he’d been stationed. Everyone was slowing down, driving sedately past him, and probably speeding up as soon as they were out of sight. Still, he knew the purpose of him being there was to act more as a deterrent and get people to slow down in the first place.
A red sports car with the convertible top down passed, going fast enough that the radar peeped. Brock put the car in gear, flipped on his lights, and pulled out, joining the flow of traffic and keeping the offender in sight. As he drove, he called in to report the stop and gave the license plate to the dispatcher to make sure the car hadn’t been reported stolen. The other cars got out of the way, and when Brock stayed behind the offender, the driver pulled to the side. Now he needed to be careful. Traffic stops, while routine, could also be dangerous. He got out of his car and walked up to the other vehicle, where a head of thick black hair poked up above the seat.
“Could I see your license and registration, please?” Brock asked as he looked over the inside of the car, checking for any sort of weapon. “Do you know how fast you were going?”
The driver turned to him, and Brock stared into a very familiar set of eyes.
“Vinny,” Brock said, relaxing a little. “I see you still drive like a bat out of hell.” He waited for him to hand over his license. “I guess some things never change.”
“I prefer Vincent now,” he said.
Brock ignored the comment and went back to his car to run the information. Not that he needed the driver’s license. He knew everything there was to know about Vincent Geraldini. He’d learned enough while the two of them dated years earlier. Granted, it hadn’t been for very long, but just as Brock thought they might be getting serious, Vinny—Vincent—had backed away.
Vinny’s record came back clean, and Brock sat in his car a little longer than was necessary, thinking about what he was going to do. At the speed Vinny had been going, writing a citation was discretionary, so Brock was still debating. Maybe he could write him one for being a dickweed. Brock opened the door, got out of his car again, and returned to Vinny.
“Are you going to give me a ticket?” Vinny asked. He was always the kind of guy who tackled things head-on. It had been one of the things Brock had first liked about him. There was no backing down in Vinny. He always asked what he wanted to know and stared people down until he got an answer.
“I’m still deciding.” Brock opened his pad and began writing. Usually he’d do that in the car, but he wanted Vinny to squirm a little and wonder exactly what he was doing. Not getting the answers he wanted was one of the things Brock knew would get under Vinny’s skin, and he wanted that at the moment. Sometimes it was easy to do, such as moments like this when Vinny was not the one in control. “Are you visiting?” Brock asked, having noticed that the address on Vinny’s license read Shippensburg.
“No. I moved back to Carlisle recently and I still have to get the address on my license changed.” Vinny gave him his new address, and Brock added that to the information on the sheet.
Brock had to force himself to keep writing when Vinny turned his way once again, tilting his head upward just enough that Brock got a good look into his intense brown eyes with their flecks of gold. For a split second, he flashed on a memory of just how those eyes shone in the afternoon sun, his olive-colored skin contrasted against the blanket, covered with a light sheen of sweat as Brock leaned over him…. Brock took a deep breath, released it, and hoped like hell that Vinny hadn’t seen anything in his expression. What had happened between them had no bearing on today and how he was going to react.
“I’m going to give you a warning. But….” Brock leaned over the side of the car, his gaze zeroing in on Vinny, and he suppressed a smile when he saw him shudder a little. “This will stay in your file here, and if you get stopped again, this will turn into a citation, along with the one the officer is sure to give you then. So slow down and drive safely.”
“Of course, Brock.” The momentary heat in Vinny’s eyes dissipated as he took the slip of paper. “I’ll be careful.”
Brock glared for a split second. He wasn’t buying that act. Vinny had never been one of those guys who played it safe. Not at least as far as Brock knew.
He patted the door of the car twice and stepped back. “Have a good day.” He turned to walk back to his patrol car.
“Is that all?” Vinny asked.
Brock continued walking and got inside, watching as Vinny pulled out into traffic and guided his car up to the next intersection. Brock turned off his lights, merged as well, and made his way to his original location. He turned on his radar equipment and settled into his routine. He called in to let dispatch know he was back at his location and then tried to get comfortable.
That stop seemed to be his excitement for the morning. Well, that and the fact that now that he’d seen Vinny again, he couldn’t seem to get his mind back where it belonged. He watched cars go by and paid attention to the radar, but his mind kept wandering to the summer between his junior and senior year of college. Maybe he and Vinny were too young at that point to have really made a go of it, but Brock had fallen in love with the olive-skinned, vibrant, take-no-prisoners Vinny. But obviously the feelings hadn’t been returned. Either that or what they’d had was just some summer fling to Vinny that was over as soon as the weather broke and they went back to school. The heat of those summer months, both outside and between them, was something Brock wasn’t ever likely to forget. He grew warm and shifted in his seat just remembering it.
Not that he particularly wanted to spend part of his day thinking about Vinny and what he’d thought they had together. Brock had had other boyfriends since then, but none of them had made him feel quite the way Vinny did. Oh, they got him excited, and he even fell in love once, but in a less soul touching way, whereas Vinny could get his heart racing with just a coy look. They didn’t need to be in the same room. A text from Vinny would have Brock excited just to hear from him. Of course, as he looked back on it, he had been stupid to give his heart and become so invested in things with Vinny so quickly. In the end he’d gotten his heart broken, and Brock let that stew in his mind for a while in order to help him pull his head back onto the task at hand.
A message came through his in-car computer, telling him there were no pending calls, so he decided to go to lunch. Brock sighed with relief and pulled out of his spot, making a right onto Hanover and heading for downtown. Carter Schunk, a friend and fellow officer, had arranged to meet him at the Hanover Grille for lunch.
Brock pulled into town, drove past rows of historic homes and the colonial-era red brick courthouse with its white clock tower, and through the square with its impressive churches. He loved how the old town had a past, and she wore it well. Brock parked in the lot behind the restaurant in one of the spots designated for law enforcement vehicles, because of its proximity to the courthouse, and walked around to the front door. Carter already had a table, and Brock joined him.
“How did it go?”
“Boring,” Brock answered with a slight smile. “Exactly what you told me it would be.”
“I heard your call about a stop.” Carter handed Brock a menu but didn’t open one himself. The Grille was a regular lunch place and Brock pretty much knew the menu by heart. It had been the place his mom took him when they went out to dinner, and it hadn’t changed much over the years.
“I made one, and it turned out to be Vinny….”
“Someone you knew?” Carter leaned a little closer.
“Quite well at one time, if you know what I mean.”
Mary, the server they saw most days at lunch, brought them water, and they each ordered a burger with a salad and some ice tea. They thanked her, and she hurried to put in their orders.
“I gave him a warning because that’s what I think I would have done for anyone else.”
“Good. Always be fair. That’s the best we can do.”
“I try.” Brock smiled when Mary brought their drinks, and then took a sip, the liquid cooling his parched throat.
“I need to change the subject before I forget. You put in for some additional shifts and they’re coming your way. Red is going on vacation.”
“The big guy with the scars?” Brock was still learning who everyone was.
“That’s him.” Carter glanced around the room and even turned behind him. Brock did the same. It was good to know what was happening around you. They were still in uniform, and with all the shootings of police officers in the national news, they needed to be on alert.
“He was so intimidating the first time I met him, but he seems like a really good guy.”
“He’s leaving tomorrow to join his partner in Rio. Terry is on the US Olympic swimming team, and Red is going to watch him compete. I wish I could afford to go too, but with him gone, I put in for you to ride with me for a few weeks, and the captain agreed. So it looks like you’re off traffic duty, for a little while anyway.”
Brock was shocked. He hadn’t expected something like this so soon. “Thanks.”
“Don’t thank me just yet. You might wish you were on traffic duty after two weeks of second shift. It can be very active, especially during the summer. People hole up inside during the day and then come out once the sun goes down and it cools off, with a lot of pent-up energy and frustration. Tempers flare. We get a lot of domestic disturbance calls.”
“It has to beat sitting in a car all day, baking like a ham.”
Carter flashed him a look of amusement. “Pun intended.”
Brock blinked. He didn’t get it.
“Ham… pig….”
Brock groaned and changed the subject. “Do you know if Terry and Red had to take special precautions with the Zika virus and all?”
“Red said he had so many shots, he felt like a pincushion. He and Terry had to be inoculated for everything, and apparently, the US Olympic Committee is bringing its own drinking water for the athletes and their families. They don’t want anyone to get sick. Terry and Red briefly talked about him backing out, but Terry is old enough that this is his last shot at the Olympics. In four years he’ll be too old, so they decided to take the chance.” Carter grinned. “Red would move heaven and earth to see that Terry’s happy, and the reverse is also true.”
“How are things with you? How’s Alex?” Brock had met Carter and Donald’s son a few times, and the six-year-old was completely adorable.
“He’s growing like a weed and getting bigger every day. He’s so excited to be going into the first grade. Unfortunately, he didn’t like his kindergarten teacher, and Donald had to step in and get him moved into a different class. He loved Mrs. Bobb and made up the ground he was behind because of her. So this year he was apprehensive until Donald and I took him down to meet his new teacher. He stood behind my legs at first and refused to look at her because he still wanted Mrs. Bobb as his teacher again and didn’t understand why if he was going to first grade, she wasn’t coming along too. Mr. Keller was patient and gave Alex time. He’s still a little apprehensive around men he doesn’t know, but after a while, they started talking, and by the end, Alex turned to us and asked if school started tomorrow.” Carter took a drink of his tea. “Sorry, I slipped into proud parent mode.”
“Nothing to be sorry for. I asked.” Brock missed his niece and nephew—he hadn’t seen them since they were toddlers.
Mary brought their food and grabbed their glasses for refills. “There you are. I’ll be back in a minute. Can I bring anything besides drinks?”
“Looks good.”
“Thank you.”
She left, and Brock dug into his burger. He was so dang hungry, he could eat a mule whole. Their conversation drew to a halt for a while until the edge on their hunger seemed to have abated.
“So will we be working double shifts while Red and Terry are gone?”
“A few, maybe. But the plan is for us to work seven days, and some of the other guys will give up days off as well. The money will be good, and it’s only for a few weeks, so be sure to get plenty of rest when you’re off. These constant days can drag unless you’re eating and sleeping well.”
They returned to their food, and Mary brought drink refills. Once they were done, Carter excused himself to go to the restroom. Brock again scanned the room and saw Vinny come in with a group of guys. Vinny hadn’t seemed to notice Brock, which was fine.
Still, every few seconds his attention returned to Vinny and the group. Vinny couldn’t see him because his back was mostly to Brock, but Brock saw him talking animatedly, waving his hands before sitting back to laugh—a deep, rich sound he couldn’t completely hear, but knew anyway. The others around the table joined in, and Brock turned away. He wasn’t included in their fun, and even when he and Vinny dated—fucked, whatever it had been—he hadn’t been included in the other parts of Vinny’s life.
“Do you need anything?” Carter asked.
Brock shook his head and silently berated himself for not being more vigilant about what was happening around him. He hadn’t heard Carter come back because he’d let his personal thoughts drag him on a woolgathering expedition, and that needed to stop.
Carter sat down, and Brock went back to use the restroom. He did his business, washed his hands, and used a cold towel to sponge off his face. Once he was done, he rejoined Carter and they paid their bills.
“Have a good afternoon, and tomorrow we’ll ride together.” Carter walked with him to their parked cars. They got in and pulled out of the lot, each going their separate directions.
Brock spent the rest of the day in a few places around town that were notorious for speeders and wrote a number of citations. At least it gave him something to do. He checked the clock and smiled. He had less than half an hour before he could go back to the station and clock out for the day. Brock was very ready.
“All units,” he heard over the radio. “Please be on the lookout for yellow recent-model Corvette convertible driven by two women. Stop if seen, but use caution. There is a report that there are children in the trunk.” Brock blinked and listened more intently, making sure he’d heard correctly. “I repeat, there are reportedly children locked in the trunk of the car.”
“Holy shit,” Brock said to himself. He’d heard stories of what people would do to each other and to children, but this was a surprise even to him.
Brock returned his attention to the road in front of him, one of the main roads from Carlisle to Harrisburg, and sure enough, a yellow Corvette turned his direction from a block away. “I have a possible sighting of the Corvette on Harrisburg Pike headed east. Two women, top down, plate HUF–9080. I am about to intercept and will make it appear a routine traffic stop. Send backup.”
“I’m on my way,” Carter said.
Brock pulled out, maneuvered until he was behind the car, and then flipped on his lights. The Corvette kept going, so Brock put on his siren. Finally the women pulled over and Brock got out of his car.
Carter pulled behind him in his cruiser. He got out as well, and they converged on the women sitting in the expensive two-seater convertible. “May I see your license and registration, please?” Brock asked the driver. Muffled sounds from the back of the car gave him pause. “Please unlock your trunk.” He met the driver’s gaze, but she made no move to comply and stared at him with vacant eyes.
“Get out of the car and keep your hands where I can see them, both of you,” Carter barked, hand on his weapon and ready to draw, and Brock stepped away to give the driver space while the women did as he asked.
“You can’t do this,” the passenger said as Carter had her place both her hands on the hood of the car, her legs spread.
Once Carter had eyes on both women, Brock reached inside the car and found the trunk release. He pressed it, went to the back, and opened the tiny trunk lid. Two sets of eyes peered out from inside.
“It’s okay, sweethearts. No one is going to hurt you.” He pushed the lid all the way open, and a little girl in a pink sundress and white-and-pink-striped tights stood up. Brock guessed she was about three. “We need assistance at Harrisburg Pike near East. I can confirm two children in the trunk. They seem okay so far.” He kept his voice as calm and level as possible.
A boy, about five years old, carefully climbed out of the trunk. “Mama,” he said, pointing to the woman who had been driving the car.
Brock glared at the woman. He had trouble imagining how anyone could be so heartless and cruel as to lock two small children in the trunk of a car on one of the hottest days of the year and then go out joy riding. Not only was it a miracle that they weren’t hurt from being tossed around inside the confined space, but it was lucky they hadn’t been injured from the heat.
He escorted the children onto the grass and into the shade of a nearby tree, then knelt down so he could be more on their level and less intimidating. “I’m Brock. What are your names?”
“Abey, and this is Penny,” the little boy answered and then pointed to the car. “It was scary in there.”
Penny had her thumb in her mouth and stayed close to Abey.
“Is Penny your sister?” Brock asked, and Abey nodded. “Did you take care of her while you were in there?”
“Yes. I held her when we rolled around.”
“You were a very brave big boy.” Brock didn’t know what else to say, but Abey nodded. “Can you stay right here with Penny?” Brock asked as he heard cars approaching. He stood to watch the scene but stayed close to the children.
Two other police vehicles stopped nearby. Both Kip Rogers and Aaron Cloud got out of their vehicles. Aaron was the ranking officer and he’d probably take charge of the scene. Brock stayed where he was as Kip helped Carter handcuff both women and get them loaded into the back of separate police cars. Then Aaron made his way toward Brock and the kids.
“Did you find out why they were in the trunk?” Brock’s heart went out to both children as Aaron stepped away a few feet.
“The car belongs to the passenger, Brenda Weaver, and apparently she’d just bought the car and drove it over to show Rhonda Geraldini. Rhonda wanted to take the car for a spin, and since there was no backseat and she didn’t have a babysitter, she put the kids in the trunk and the women decided to go for a ride.”
“My God,” Brock said softly. Vinny’s sister. Sometimes it was a small, sick world.
“Her excuse was that she thought the kids would be fine and that they weren’t going very far or very fast. Oh, and that there was no backseat in the car for the kids to ride in anyway.” Aaron rolled his eyes.
Brock turned back to the kids and forced a smile. “This is Abey and Penny. Abey held and protected his sister while they were in there so that she wouldn’t get hurt. He’s a very good big brother.”
“Where did they take Mama?” Abey picked at his sleeve, swaying from foot to foot.
“It’s all right. She shouldn’t have put you and Penny in the trunk, so the officers are going to talk with her.” He turned to Aaron, floundering.
“Carter called for some help, and his husband, Donald, is on the way.”
Brock nodded. “I’ve met his family.” That was a huge relief. Donald would know exactly what to do and how to help make sure the kids remained calm. “I’ll stay with the kids here in the shade if you want me too.”
“Perfect. We’ll handle the rest.” Aaron left them, and shortly after, Penny pulled on Abey’s sleeve.
“Penny has to go potty,” Abey said.
“Okay.” He caught Aaron’s eye and motioned to the gas station next door. Then he took each of their hands and gently led them across the grass and into the store. There was just a single bathroom, and Brock waited outside while Abey took Penny inside. He kept watch and listened for any issues. Soon the heavy door moved, and Brock helped open it. They came out, Abey holding Penny’s hand.
“Did you wash up?” Brock smiled when they both nodded, and he led them back through the store. At the register, Brock bought two boxes of animal crackers and handed one to each of them. He also got some bottles of water, then walked the kids across the parking lot to where Donald was waiting for them. “Abey and Penny, this is Mr. Donald. He’s going to be your friend and he’ll help you. I promise. He’s a very nice man.”
Abey’s lower lip quivered, and Penny stepped behind her brother. Brock suspected that all this was way more than they could handle and fear was really setting in.
“I’m going to take both of you to stay with a friend of mine. Okay?” Even Brock found Donald’s voice soothing.
Abey shook his head, turned to Penny, and put his arms around her to shield her from Donald. “No strangers. Mama says so.”
“Am I a stranger?” Brock asked, and Abey turned to look at him but didn’t move away from Penny.
“Yes,” he answered. “But you’re a nice stranger.” He turned and held his box of cookies close to him, and Penny mimicked her brother.
Brock wanted to cry right there by the side of the road. He blinked and had to turn away. Damn it, he wasn’t supposed to get emotional when he was on the job. Take whatever you see, bury it, cover it up, and make it stay there. That’s what he was supposed to do. But how in the hell was that possible when he was looking into two pairs of wide, frightened blue eyes?
“Do you want me to go with you?”
Abey thought a second, screwing up his face in a look of concentration, and then finally nodded. Abey seemed to trust Brock, at least initially.
“Will you stay here with Penny?” Brock asked Abey, and he nodded, holding his sister’s hand. Then Brock and Donald took a few steps away. “I can ride with you to where you’re taking them.”
“That’s the problem. I don’t have a single home with room for two kids. All I have are two separate emergency foster care homes, and they are limited to taking one each at the moment.”
Brock’s gaze hardened and he glared at Donald. “You can’t split them up. They just saw their mother taken away in a police car. Look at him—he’ll fight you tooth and nail if you try to separate him from Penny, and the poor little thing will come apart. She’s already got half her hand in her mouth, she’s under so much stress.”
“Emergency foster homes require special certification, and I can’t just make things up as I go along. I have to go by the book. These are court matters.”
“Crap….” Brock wished he could do something—anything—about the fear in their eyes. “You do what you have to do, but so help me God….” Maybe this profession wasn’t the right one for him. “I took an oath to protect and serve, and if I can’t help little ones like them, then what the hell good am I in the first place?” Brock couldn’t just walk away.
Donald sighed and turned to look to where Carter was searching the car. Brock saw the moment Carter realized Donald was looking at him. He could almost see the zing of awareness that passed between them, it was so strong.
Carter and Donald seemed to communicate with each other without saying a word, and Brock saw Carter nod to Donald, who smiled and then turned back to him. “Carter and I will take them in. I’m certified as an emergency foster home, and we have enough room for the two of them if they share a room.”
“I doubt you’re going to get them to sleep apart.”
“You’re probably right, though I think Penny is going to need a bed with a rail to ensure she doesn’t roll out, but I can accommodate that.”
Brock turned to the kids, who were still frightened. Penny had ripped open her box of crackers and was eating them while Abey still held his with the handle clutched in his fists. He looked about as defiant as a five-year-old could when fear was stalking close by.
“Mr. Donald is going to take you home with him.”
Abey once again shook his head and moved closer to Penny.
“Would it be okay if I went along with you?” Brock asked, and Abey nodded his agreement after a few seconds, looking from Donald and then to him.
“I’ve got a car seat as well as a booster in my car, so the kids can ride with me.”
“I need to clock out, and then I’ll be over to your house as soon as I can get there.” Brock knelt down. “Mr. Donald is going to take you to his house, where he has a lot of really fun toys, and his son, Alex, will be there for you to play with. I promise I’ll be there as soon as I can.” Brock took both kids’ hands, led them to Donald’s car, and got them buckled in. “I promise I’ll be over to see you soon.” Brock closed the door and stepped away from the car. As soon as Donald pulled away, Brock hurried to where Carter and Aaron were comparing notes.
“Are you clocking out?” Carter asked.
“Yes. The kids are with Donald, and I told him I’d be over as soon as I could.”
“Why?” Aaron asked.
Brock thought that was one of the dumbest questions he’d ever heard but kept his reaction off his face. “The kids trust me for some reason, and they’re suspicious of Donald. So I want to make sure they’re okay.”
“Good. Tell Donald I’ll be home as soon as we button things up here and I can get the paperwork done on our ‘mother of the year.’”
Brock got in his car, radioed in, and headed to the station. Once there, he clocked out and left as soon as he could. He made a quick stop at his apartment over Victorian Antiques on Hanover Street, where he changed clothes. Then he headed out, walking the few blocks to Donald’s as fast as possible. He knocked, and Donald answered the door with Penny in his arms, tears streaking her face. She reached for him, so Brock took her and rubbed her back to try to soothe her as he stepped inside.
Abey sat on the sofa, staring at nothing, his little legs sticking out in front of him. He seemed so forlorn, but when he saw Brock, he perked up, slid to the floor, and walked over.
“Penny is fine, little protector,” Brock said, sitting on the sofa. Abey climbed up and sat next to him. “Where’s Alex?”
“He’s at the neighbors’ house, playing with a friend. I have to go over and get him, but I wanted to wait for you. I’ll be right back.” Donald left, and Brock gathered Abey to him with his free arm.
“Are you hungry? You can eat your crackers if you want.”
Abey looked down at the red box covered with circus animals and slowly opened it. He ate one of the animal-shaped crackers inside and then handed one up to Brock. He ate it and thanked Abey for sharing. Penny’s box was on the table, so he leaned over, got one, and handed it up to her. She took it but continued holding him tight, like she had no intention of letting him go.
Donald returned with hurricane Alex, who blew in amid a flurry of storytelling. “Mark said that he was the bestest at bike riding and I said unh-uh, and he said he was, but I beat him so I was right. But he….” His conversation cut off midsentence when he saw Brock and the kids.
“Alex, this is Penny and Abey. They’re going to be staying with us for a little while. Is that okay?”
Alex looked up at Donald and then at the two youngsters as though he were thinking. Then he turned back up to Donald. “Are they like me?”
“They’re like you were when you first came to live with me. They need my help. Is that okay?” Brock liked the way Donald always seemed to ask questions rather than forcing the kids to do what he wished. Granted, in the end, Donald got what he wanted, but he always made Alex part of the process.
“I still get my room, right?” Suspicion clouded Alex’s adorable face.
“Of course. They’re going to sleep in the room next to yours.”
“Okay.” Alex walked right over to Abey. “Do you want to play Legos? I got lots of ’em.”
Abey hesitated and then slid down off the sofa, handed Brock his animal crackers, and followed Alex to the corner of the room where his toy box was.
“Do you want to play too?” Brock asked Penny, but she seemed content to stay right where she was. She did lift her head, though, watching the boys.
“They’ve been through a lot in a very short time. All we can do is give comfort. If I knew them, I’d try to find out their routine and stick with it. But we’re going to have to wing it.” Donald approached slowly. “Are you hungry, sweet girl?”
Penny nodded slowly.
“Do you like macaroni and cheese?” Donald asked, and she nodded again.
“I’ll go make some. Do you want to help me?” Donald extended his hand, and Penny looked at it for a while. Brock didn’t think she was going to go for it, but then she took Donald’s hand, and Brock let her go into Donald’s arms. “There you are. Let’s go make some dinner.” He carried Penny into the kitchen, and Brock sat where he was, watching the boys play. Abey seemed content to spend time with Alex and wasn’t fussing as they scooted around the floor, chattering like they were old friends.
Brock pushed to his feet and walked to where Donald had gone. “I think they’re settled now, so I’ll get out of your hair.” There really wasn’t a need for him to be there any longer. Penny and Abey were safe, and Donald knew how to take care of them and would shepherd them to a more permanent living location.
“Stay for dinner. Once the kids are fed, I have some steaks marinating and there’s plenty.” Donald moved around his kitchen with practiced ease, even with Penny in his arms.
“I don’t want to impose, and—”
Donald interrupted him. “Nonsense. You did a great thing today, and the least I can do is feed you. Besides, what are you going to do? Go out and eat more fried stuff, or heat up a TV dinner and sit in front of the television?” Donald pulled out a plastic bag and set it on the counter. The marinating steaks looked dang good, and Brock’s belly let him know it. “And I could use your help. I don’t know when Carter will be home exactly, and I need to log in and see what I can find out about these two, as well as get them in the system, so you’d be doing me a favor.” Donald smiled, and Brock caved and returned to the living room.
It wasn’t long before Donald called the boys in, and Alex held Abey’s hand as they went to eat. Brock followed and took a seat at the table. “I can stay here if you have things to do,” Brock offered.
“Awesome.” Donald hurried out of the room.
“How are you, pretty Penny?” Brock asked. She was getting more of her dinner on her than in her so Brock gave her a hand, using the spoon to feed her. He got smiles for that and even a few giggles. Abey seemed contented enough to chat with his new friend Alex.
The kids were almost done eating when Donald returned. “I was able to get a court time for tomorrow.” Donald’s tone didn’t betray any of the seriousness of what he was saying, and the kids didn’t pay any attention to him. “We can talk more once they’re in bed.”
Brock nodded and returned to the “open the barn door” game duty as he fed Penny.
Carter got home as they finished, and the boys went back into the living room to play. Carter leaned over where Donald sat at the table and kissed him soundly. “I got home as fast as I could.” Carter shook Brock’s hand and sat down himself. “I have the information you’re going to need. The kids’ last name is Geraldini. I was able to search birth records. Their mother is Rhonda Geraldini, who is currently our guest and is likely to remain that way for a while. They might have different fathers, and Rhonda has never been married.”
“Thanks. I’ll check on them in the system in a few minutes.”
“Rhonda has a—”
“Brother…. Vincent,” Brock supplied, and Carter paused, looking at him in astonishment.
“Okay. You’ve either developed ESP or something is going on.” He turned to Donald, who shrugged.
“I used to date Vincent, but that was some time ago. He left town and moved to Shippensburg, but he’s back now and we have his address.” Brock grinned. “Sometimes small-town living is priceless. I gave him a warning for speeding this morning.”
“Okay. Let me call the station and see if we can get his phone number so we can contact him as a possible guardian.” Carter kissed Donald one more time and left the room.
Soon Brock heard him talking on the phone in the other room. “Is it always like this with what you do?” Brock asked.
“Sometimes. People don’t always neglect or hurt their children on a nine-to-five schedule.” Donald got out a plate. “The grill is out back. Would you mind going to light it? Or we’re never going to get some dinner.”
“Sure.” Brock found the grill on the patio in the backyard and easily got it lit. He closed the lid to let it heat and returned to where Donald had started the rest of dinner. Penny sat in her chair, eyes drooping, and Brock figured it was best to let her sleep. He checked on the boys and saw they were having a good time. Legos were strewn all over the living room floor, but the boys seemed to have moved on to playing cars and trucks.
“Alex, buddy, why don’t you pick up the Legos?”
Alex looked at him like he’d just said the dumbest thing ever. “They’re the track.” They zoomed the cars around the room, and it took them a few moments to realize the Legos didn’t make a very good track. Alex gathered them up, and they ran the cars and trucks along the floor, playing like they had known each other forever.
Carter finished what he needed and passed the address information to Donald, then took over kitchen duty while Donald grabbed his laptop and sat next to Brock on the sofa. It was like a balancing act between Carter and Donald. They instinctively seemed to know what the other needed to do and made a way for it to happen.
From where Brock sat, he could see Penny asleep in the high chair and watch Abey and Alex, so he kept vigil while the two of them did what they needed to do.
“Got it.”
“What?”
“A phone number.” Donald grabbed his phone and made a call. He left a message and then hung up. “At least I have the right number, according to the voice mail.”
Donald returned to the kitchen, and Brock watched the children and did his best to stay out of the way. “Don’t the kids need clothes?” Brock asked.
“I have some they can use for the time being, and tomorrow we’ll have to see about getting them some more.” Donald stayed in the kitchen, and Carter approached and sat next to Brock on the sofa.
“Their mother is being charged with multiple counts, and while she may get out on bail, it isn’t likely she’s going to be getting the kids back easily. Not with her history. But that will be up to the courts, of course. Donald and I will keep the kids here until they either get a more permanent placement or are awarded back to their mother.”
“Mama,” Penny suddenly cried from the kitchen, whimpering.
Brock got up, lifted her out of her chair, and carried her back to the living room. Abey stopped playing and stood next to Brock, protecting his sister like he had earlier in the day. Penny continued to cry on Brock’s shoulder.
“It’s all right, sweetheart,” Brock soothed. Her cries must have agitated Abey, so Carter picked him up and set him on his lap. Alex climbed on the sofa, and soon the children surrounded them. It was an amazing feeling to be needed like this.
Penny’s cries eventually died away, and the boys’ energy got the best of them so they returned to their play.
The phone rang in the other room and Donald answered it, then sent Carter out with the plate of steaks. Donald continued talking as he worked and then hung up.
“What is it?” Brock could see Donald’s agitation.
“That was the kids’ uncle. He said that he and his sister are estranged and that he hasn’t seen Abey since he was eighteen months old and has never met Penny. He was shocked to know he had a niece at all.”
“Is he going to come see the kids?”
“I know you and he have a history, but I need to do what’s best for the kids, and having a relationship with family members is the best thing. So I invited him over in an hour. At least he can meet the kids.” Donald paced slowly. “I was hoping for someone the kids knew so that this whole thing would be less of a shock.”
“I don’t think there’s any way around that now.” Brock turned to where all three kids were playing. “They deserve so much better than what happened to them.” He was having a hard time letting go of the image of opening that trunk and seeing those sweet children in there. He’d been warned, but nothing could have prepared him for that. Nothing at all. Brock turned away and reminded himself that no matter what he might have thought of their uncle, what was best for Penny and Abey was what mattered.
Donald called him in to eat. The dining area was open through an archway to the living room, so they could easily see the kids as they ate. None of them talked very much, their attention focused on the three kids. Eventually Penny came over and stood next to Brock’s chair. He lifted her onto his lap, and she settled in. She didn’t seem hungry, even though he offered her some of what he was eating.
“It looks like you made a real friend.”
“I have no idea why,” Brock told Carter.
“Because you helped them. They had to have been terrified being in that trunk, and you got them out and were nice to them.”
Abey approached the table, stood next to Donald, and whispered to him. Donald got up, took Abey by the hand, and led him out of the room. Then Donald returned and sat back down.
“Is he okay?” Brock figured he needed to be shown where the bathroom was, and Donald confirmed his suspicion.
“Yes. Just needed to go to the bathroom.” Donald kept an eye out, and sure enough, Abey returned and began playing with Alex once again.
The doorbell rang just as they finished dinner. Donald took his plate into the kitchen and then went to answer the door. Brock’s tension rose instantly, and when he saw Vincent following Donald into the living room, he wasn’t so sure how he felt about seeing him again. But the near-frantic expression on Vincent’s face pushed aside his own discomfort for the sake of the kids.
“I’m Donald, a social worker with child services, and this is my husband, Carter. And I believe you know Brock already. He and Carter work together.”
Vinny nodded, his attention going right to the little girl still on Brock’s lap. Her little thumb stuck in her mouth and she turned away, hiding her face against Brock’s chest. “I haven’t seen Abey in years, and this little girl….” The hitch in Vinny’s voice caught Brock’s attention.
“Then why don’t you come meet both of them.” Donald led the way to the living room and invited Vinny to sit down. Brock lifted Penny before standing, followed Vinny, and sat next to him. Penny hid once again, but Brock hoped she’d get over the initial shyness if he were patient.
“Were you the one who helped them?” Vinny asked.
“Yes. Do you know what happened?”
Vinny shook his head. “Just that they were taken away.”
“I thought it best to tell him face-to-face rather than on the phone.” Donald sat in one of the two leather recliners and motioned Abey to come over. “This is your Uncle Vincent. He’s your mother’s brother.”
“I met you when you were a baby.” Vinny smiled.
“I’m not a baby anymore. I’m a big boy.” Abey leaned back against Donald. All of this had to be a lot for these kids.
“I can see that.” Vinny kept glancing around the room, confusion reigning.
Abey stared at Vinny and then went back to join Alex where he was playing.
“I think he’s really confused. The kids saw the police take your sister and her friend away.”
Vinny didn’t move as though not sure what to do.
Donald stood, walked over to where Brock sat on the sofa, and lifted Penny into his arms. “I think it’s time for this one to have a bath and then go to sleep.” Donald headed upstairs, and Brock watched as Abey continued to play.
“Apparently a friend of your sister got a new car and they decided to take it out for a ride. It was a Corvette without a backseat, so your sister put the kids in the trunk.” When Vinny gasped, Brock nodded to confirm what he’d said. “Someone reported her, and I stopped the car and found the kids.”
“Where is Rhonda now?”
“She’s in jail, pending a hearing in the morning.”
“Can you get her some help?” Vinny asked as Carter joined them. “My sister has mental health problems. She sometimes hears voices and she’s supposed to be on medication, but she doesn’t always take it. But even when she does, her ability to make sound judgments is compromised.”
“I don’t know. At the moment it’s pretty much up to the courts and social workers. But what about her friend? I would hope that one of them would be able to think clearly.”
“Rhonda doesn’t pick her friends for clear thinking. She picks them based upon their ability to go along with her ideas and notions. So any of Rhonda’s friends aren’t likely to be the kinds of people to act as voices of reason. Is she being tested?”
“Yes. We’re running a number of tests to see if she was impaired in any way. She didn’t seem particularly lucid when I took her into custody.”
Vinny nodded and sat back, putting his hands over his eyes. “I was always afraid of something like this. I knew she’d had Abey, but I didn’t have a clue about Penny. I think I talked to her last about six months ago, and then maybe a year before that. She’d only call when she wanted something, and the last few times, I’ve had to tell her no. I wanted to help, I really did, but she bled my parents dry and ran them into debt. What should have been relatively comfortable retirement years turned into hard ones for them. She pestered and begged for whatever they had, and because Rhonda was their daughter, they gave her what they could.” Vinny seemed about ready to fall apart, which was eye-opening for Brock. Vinny took a deep breath and blinked. “At least the kids are safe.” He released his breath. “So what happens now?”
The trepidation in Vinny’s voice touched Brock. He really cared about these kids and that said something about him. Brock wanted to think of Vinny as being selfish and uncaring. That made the earlier rejection easier to handle. But he wasn’t, and Brock was relieved for Abey and Penny’s sake, but it left him wondering what he’d done wrong.
Saturday's Series Spotlight
Carlisle Cops
Carlisle Deputies
Andrew Grey is the author of over 100 works of Contemporary Gay Romantic fiction. After twenty-seven years in corporate America, he has now settled down in Central Pennsylvania with his husband, Dominic, and his laptop. An interesting ménage. Andrew grew up in western Michigan with a father who loved to tell stories and a mother who loved to read them. Since then he has lived throughout the country and traveled throughout the world.
He is a recipient of the RWA Centennial Award, has a master’s degree from the University of Wisconsin-Milwaukee, and now writes full-time. Andrew’s hobbies include collecting antiques, gardening, and leaving his dirty dishes anywhere but in the sink (particularly when writing). He considers himself blessed with an accepting family, fantastic friends, and the world’s most supportive and loving partner. Andrew currently lives in beautiful, historic Carlisle, Pennsylvania.
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Fire & Hail #5
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