And keeping secrets was no way to operate. “Oh, and I investigated a disturbance Mrs. Jackson called about, over at the women’s center, but nothing that needed writing up.” Which was technically true. Yasmin had cited client confidentiality. The kid didn’t want to talk, and he didn’t have to according to the rules of the state, although the chief wouldn’t see it that way. He’d bend that type of rule to get information from a kid if he felt the situation warranted that; Liam had seen him do it.
Time to change the subject. “Are you making any other changes in the shifts?” They were a four-officer department, besides the chief and a secretary. And one of the officers was a raw rookie.
“Nope. Jenkins will float to cover everyone’s days off, same as now,” the chief said. “And I’ll still back him up and clean up his messes, in addition to working days. Mulligan will do nights, and Buddy’ll continue on the graveyard shift. The switch is just between you and Buck, and it’s only for a little while.” The chief gulped coffee. “I hope.”
At least the chief didn’t seem to be behind the plan, so Liam wasn’t in trouble with his boss. But if someone on council had something against him... He opened his mouth to speculate and then shut it without speaking. The chief would never talk behind people’s backs. He was the soul of honor and all of a sudden, Liam wasn’t in a hurry for him to retire.
Liam blew out a breath. Calm and cool. This too shall pass.
They finished their breakfasts. “Good thing is, Mulligan’s starting tonight,” Chief Ramirez said. “So you’ve got a day and night off. Report tomorrow for your first day shift.”
Once outside, Liam strode through town toward his apartment. He needed a good hard run with his dog.
But being a cop in a small town meant you were never really off duty. “Liam, honey,” old Mrs. Roosevelt called from her porch, “could you help me with this screen door? It’s not staying shut.”
“Sure.” Liam wasn’t a handyman, he was a police officer with a degree in criminal justice and a top-of-class citation from the academy, but truthfully, he liked being useful. He walked up her front sidewalk. Mrs. Roosevelt’s screen door was, in fact, flapping in the slight breeze, and he looked it over. “You have a screwdriver?” he asked her, and then followed her through her dark, musty-smelling house to the kitchen. He waited while she dug through half her drawers to find one.
While he worked on the door, she told him about her granddaughter, who’d graduated from Howard University and was headed to law school in just a week.
“Did she stop and see you this summer?” he asked as he tightened the loose hinge that had caused the problem.
Mrs. Roosevelt clicked her tongue. “She sure did, and brought that lily-white boyfriend of hers along with her. Not that there’s anything wrong with white,” she added hastily. “I know the world is changing, and some of y’all are real sweet. It’s just, in my day, we stuck with our own kind.”
Liam wondered what Mrs. Roosevelt had thought of his relationship with Yasmin. Or who she was supposed to stick with, considering that she had both black and white in her heritage. Supposedly, there was even a little Seminole way back down the line.
“Little Miss College Graduate wanted me to serve up some soul food. That’s what she called it, soul food.”
Her indignant tone made Liam smile. “Did you do it?”
“Are you kidding me?” Mrs. Jackson let out a deep, infectious laugh. “Honey, I made spaghetti and meatballs, just to spite her.”
“Good for you.” He tightened one last screw and then tested the screen door. “There. That should work better.”
She smiled up at him, her broad face creasing to a point where her eyes almost disappeared. “You’re a good boy, Liam. Always willing to go the extra mile.”
Tell that to the city council. “Happy to help, ma’am.” He patted her shoulder, and she pulled him into a hug and kissed his cheek.
When he got home, Rio barked ecstatically. Good, someone was plain and simple glad to see him, wasn’t going to ask for a favor or give him bad news. He snapped a leash on the Lab-rottweiler mix and headed out into the apartment building’s yard.
Since his short relationship with Yasmin had ended last year, he’d put all his energy into his work, climbing the ladder. Sublimation, the police shrink they were all required to see had called it, when he’d heard about Liam’s background. It was a good thing.
Today’s demotion picked at a scab on his heart.
The wife and kids could come later. He definitely wanted that. But he’d seen the effects of poverty and desperation in his biological father, and he carried those angry genes himself. He needed a firm professional standing and money saved before he could think about a family.
Needed to get over Yasmin, too, but first things first.
Rio did his business, and Liam was picking up after him when his landlord came out of the house next door. He beckoned Liam over.
“That dog’s getting too big for the place,” he said.
Rio chose that moment to jump up, putting his massive front paws on Mr. Smith’s shoulders. Which wasn’t hard; Mr. Smith was only about five-two, but Liam snapped the leash back and made the dog sit while he apologized up one side and down the other. “He looks tough but he’s not,” Liam reassured the man. “He’s got the Lab personality.”
Smith wasn’t having it, though. “Fifty-pound limit in the lease,” he said, “and that beast is pushing a hundred pounds.”
Liam drew in a breath and let it out slowly, trying to call to mind the meditation techniques they’d learned in a boring-but-required seminar last spring. “I’ll work on finding another place to live,” he promised.
Mentally, he was ticking off the apartment complexes and houses for rent in the area. Not that many were open to pets. But Liam’s stomach plummeted at the thought of getting rid of the dog. He’d rescued Rio himself, from a flood situation this spring, floating on a wooden pallet in one of the swampy rivers nearby.
Mr. Smith crossed his arms. “You broke the lease by having him here,” he said. “I’m going to have to ask you to vacate within the next two weeks.”
“Two weeks!” Liam frowned at the man. “You never had a problem with Rio before.”
“I do now,” he said in a stern voice, undoubtedly the one he used in his job as a high school principal. “Two weeks. And keep the place clean. I’ll be showing it.”
Liam headed into town with Rio, aiming to run off his frustration, but a call from his brother Sean interrupted that plan. As he clicked into the call, a possible solution to the apartment problem came to him.
“How’s married life?” he asked Sean immediately. Against all odds, Sean had found love and an instant family and was making a go of it. Something none of them had expected, given the warped representation of marriage their parents had portrayed. And Liam was nothing but glad for him. Sean had taken the brunt of the heat both before and after they’d lost their mom; he had the scars to prove it. If anyone deserved a second chance at happiness, it was Sean.
“It’s good, man.” Sean described the fun he and his new wife and daughters were having, but he didn’t go on too long. The real purpose of the call, Liam knew, was to make sure Liam was okay; Sean took his big brother role almost too seriously, given that Liam was pushing thirty. “What’s new with you?”
“Everything’s good,” he lied—no way was he telling Sean about desk duty, his brother was too proud of Liam’s rapid rise through the police ranks. “But looks like me and Rio will need a new place to stay.” He explained about Mr. Smith and the two-week notice.
“Man, I’d like to help,” Sean said, “but the Sea Pine Cottages are full. And Anna’s and my place is getting remodeled. Workmen twelve hours a day to try to get it done before we come home.” It had been the wedding gift from the guys at Sean’s construction company—updating and building an addition onto on
e of the cottages at the rustic beach resort Sean was managing now, to make it a fit place for a family of four to live.
“You could try Ma Dixie,” Sean suggested. Ma Dixie had taken Sean in when he, Liam and their brother, Cash, had been abandoned on the streets of Safe Haven as young teens.
“Not happening.” Liam forced a laugh. “I ran into her at the market yesterday. She has a new foster family, three kids.”
Liam was running out of options, but it was his problem, not his brother’s. Sean had saved his butt plenty of times, from when they were little kids fighting on the playground to when he’d given Liam half the money to attend the police academy, as a college graduation present. Now, Sean had other priorities, and that was the way it should be. Liam reassured Sean that he and Rio would be fine and then clicked over to another call. Just before he put it to his ear, he realized who was calling him: Yasmin.
“Hey, Liam, I hate to bother you,” she said in that husky voice that always drove him crazy. “But I’m worried. Rocky’s taken off.”
* * *
“HE WAS HERE when I woke up,” Yasmin said as soon as Liam arrived. Seeing him made her tight shoulders loosen, just a little, because if anyone could find the boy, it was Liam.
Never mind that her whole body warmed just at the sight of him; she was used to it, it wasn’t important, and there was nothing she could do about it. “I fixed him breakfast, and he ate like a horse. I went upstairs to try to find him some of Josiah’s old clothes to wear. Got caught up in a phone call. When I got back downstairs, Rocky wasn’t here.” Remorse battered at her: Stupid, stupid, stupid. She’d been a fool to leave a troubled child alone, and if something had happened to the boy, it was on her.
“So he’s been gone, what, half an hour?”
“Or forty-five minutes.” Despair pressed down on her like dark clouds. “I looked everywhere in the house and yard. And Josiah went down to the docks to look for him.”
Liam had been scanning the yard and street, but at her words, his head snapped back and he looked at her. “Why the docks?”
“He says that’s where he found Rocky last night.”
“I’m going to call the department and get their help looking for him,” Liam said.
Everything in Yasmin revolted against that idea. “No, Liam, let’s just look a little ourselves, first, okay?” Yasmin didn’t dislike the police department, but she had a funny feeling about Rocky. A protective feeling. She wished she could just put her arms around him and make the scared, trapped expression on his face disappear. “If the police find him and his mom’s still missing, they might put him into the system. They could end up deciding to place him in a different home, not mine, and...well, his mom will come looking for him here. If she’s able and comes back.”
Liam’s lips tightened, reminding her that he’d faced the same experience. His foster family hadn’t been bad, but the loss of his mom had impacted him terribly, of course. She opened her mouth to say something about that, but what could she say?
“How old is he?” Liam asked.
“Pretty sure he’s thirteen.” Yasmin grabbed her tennis shoes and sat down on the bench beside the door to put them on.
“If he’s an unattached minor, it’s a status crime at most. Not even that, if his folks aren’t looking for him. But what if his stepdad picked him up? He’s violent, right?”
Yasmin hadn’t even considered it. “Fine, call it in,” she said, but just then, Josiah’s face flashed on her lock screen. She clicked into the call.
“Come to the docks,” Joe said, and then their connection broke.
Minutes later she and Liam were at the Safe Haven waterfront. To the right was the commercial part of town, the boardwalk where tourists liked to walk, lined by a couple of restaurants and bars. Benches dotted the area, inviting people to sit and look out into the harbor, and a couple of kiosks advertised shelling and lighthouse cruises and low country tours.
But the real heart of the town was the dock area, where shrimp boats and a seafood processing plant made mornings active and lively. Even today, a Saturday, three boats were docked and another was headed this way. The smell of fish was a given, fish and salt. For Yasmin, it was the fragrance of home.
And there was Josiah, beckoning. When they reached him, he pointed to a small shed that housed cleaning and safety equipment. “I saw him go in there. Didn’t want to scare him, so I called you.”
“Thanks.” Yasmin gave her brother a sidearm hug, grateful that despite the lack of the smile that used to spring so readily to his face, he seemed to be better today. When he was more himself, it was impossible to believe he’d committed a crime or hurt someone.
Except his moods and emotions were so unpredictable now. Her stomach tightened as she followed Liam to the shed and peeked past him, squinting into the relative darkness.
Once her eyes adjusted, she saw Rocky, squatting behind a stack of life preservers, wiping his eyes and scowling.
Relief washed over her and she rushed past Liam to kneel beside the boy, studying his arms and legs. “Do you hurt anywhere?”
Rocky shook his head, not looking at her.
“You scared us,” she scolded. “Come on home. This is no place to hang out. For one thing, it smells terrible.”
She offered him her hand, but he didn’t take it. He did, however, get to his feet. His clothes, the same ones from last night, were now streaked with grease and dirt, and a gray smear crossed his cheekbone.
Compassion wrapped around her heart and squeezed, tight.
Glancing back at Liam, she tried to communicate with her eyes to let her handle it. She shouldn’t have called him, probably, but she’d gotten scared.
He read it—Liam was sensitive that way—and backed out of the shed. He went over to stand beside Josiah.
Yasmin put an arm around Rocky for a quick hug, then released him before he could pull away. “Let’s go get you a shower, and then we can talk,” she said, urging him out of the shed with a hand on his back. “What were you doing down here, anyway?”
He stared at the ground. “Lookin’ for my mom,” he mumbled so quietly that it took her a minute to understand.
“Is this the last place you saw her?” Liam asked. He had the sharpest hearing of anyone she knew.
Rocky stiffened, even though Liam’s tone had been friendly and conversational. His face twisted into a sneer that almost hid the trembling of his chin. “What are you doing here?”
“Just giving a hand to a friend,” Liam said, nodding at Yasmin. “I’m not here as a cop, if that’s what you’re worried about. But I’d like to help you find your mom.”
Rocky lifted his chin and looked away.
“Come on back to my place.” Yasmin gave Liam a headshake and then urged Rocky toward the sidewalk. Soon they were walking toward her house, Josiah and Liam trailing behind them.
She was breathing easier now that they’d found Rocky, a little dirtier but basically safe. But as they walked, questions nudged and needled at her. How had Josiah known where to find Rocky? Why was he so interested in the boy, when these days, he spaced out on most things in life?
What had happened to Rocky’s mom? And what did Josiah know about that?
They passed the women’s center and Yasmin gave it a glance and a sigh. Another worry, albeit a lesser one. Fortunately, there was no one hanging around outside, which was one way clients came to her, but there was a boatload of paperwork to do inside.
“Are you working today?” Liam asked.
“I was, but...no, probably not.” She was going to have to keep an eye on Rocky, and of course that took precedence over paperwork. She had to figure out what to do with the boy, but if she got him settled somehow, there might be time for an hour of catching up with correspondence and official forms. “Joe, would you mind picking up my mail and the folders on top of my desk?” She fumbled
for the key and handed it to her brother. “I might do a little work at home.” Truth to tell, she often took work home with her if she wasn’t able to stay late at the center. It was a peril of being in charge of a nonprofit, but she didn’t mind. She believed in the mission and she loved her work.
Josiah headed for the church while she and Liam and Rocky ambled on toward her place. She was still worried about what had happened last night that had gotten Josiah and Rocky so upset, and she wanted to keep close tabs on whether anyone was investigating it. “You know,” she said to Rocky, “Officer O’Dwyer could maybe help you and your mom. Just something to think about,” she added quickly, not wanting to apply too much pressure.
Rocky glanced up at her and then looked away, not speaking.
“I’ve got some time,” Liam confirmed. “Not working tonight.” He seemed like he was about to say more, but decided against it.
Josiah jogged up behind them. He had a file envelope under one arm and a letter in his hand, which he thrust toward Yasmin. “This was stuck under the door of the center.”
Yasmin held up the manila envelope. Only her name was written across the front, so it hadn’t come in the mail. And there was no return address.
Uh-oh. Some center client’s outraged abuser, no doubt. Hate mail. Her stomach knotted. “I’ll wait till I get home to open it,” she said.
“Who’s it from?” Liam leaned over to study the envelope.
Rocky did, too, and then he drew in an audible gasp. “That’s my mom’s writing!”
CHAPTER THREE
RITA TOMLINSON HAD survived amnesia, the loss of her common-law husband and a long-distance move without a job or a place to live at the other end. She’d landed on her feet, here in Safe Haven, and she thought of herself as a fairly courageous woman. But as she approached the town’s little library, her heart was filled with dread.
Which was ridiculous, of course. Small-town libraries weren’t scary. She’d faced a lot worse in her fifty-seven years. Even the Southern Comfort Café where she worked, as great as it was, got more low-life patrons than the library did.
Low Country Dreams Page 3
