by M. S. Parker
By the time I finished with him, he looked even more exhausted than he already had. I couldn’t imagine what he was going through, especially if he was as innocent as I believed.
“What do I do now?” he asked as he stood.
“If you can, go home. Try to sleep. Be there if she comes back. If you need to get out of the house, whether it’s to work or just take a walk, make sure you have your cell phone with you, and leave a note in the house.” I thought for a moment before adding, “And if the cops come to talk to you, whether or not you tell them about me is up to you. Technically, Jalen is the one who hired me, but as soon as I can completely clear you off the suspect list, he wants me to keep you up to speed on what I’m doing.”
The acknowledgment that he was still currently on a suspect list didn’t even phase him. This was a man who didn’t care what anyone thought of him, as long as he had his daughter.
“I’ll be in touch.”
After he left, Jalen stuck his head in. “Do you want me to just send people in as you send others out or do you want to call them in yourself?”
I appreciated the fact that he asked, and that gratitude made me slip, and I smiled at him. “Send them in as other ones come out. These interviews will be much shorter than Mr. Ludwick’s was.”
Jalen nodded, then disappeared. A couple seconds later, a stern-looking brunette came into the office.
“Nanette Browne,” she said, her tone softer than I would’ve guessed. “I’m the head of marketing.”
I gave her my best professional smile, writing down her name and starting with the first question.
“How well do you know Theo Ludwick?”
Even though the point of me talking to Jalen’s employees was to get a feel for Theo and to see if anyone would have a reason to use his daughter against him, I couldn’t help being impressed by the quality of the people I was meeting. They loved and respected Jalen, and they worked hard because they believed in him and in the work, they were doing. The work environment was professional but not overly authoritarian. He allowed room for fun and relaxation but didn’t let it compromise the product.
But that wasn’t the reason I was talking to every person in the company and asking them about Theo. I needed to focus on the case and put aside my own interest in my client.
Except nothing I heard today gave me any solid leads. Everyone agreed that Theo was a great guy. Honest, hard-working. They talked about how much he loved his daughter, how after his wife’s death, she meant everything to him. None of them had ever seen him behave suspiciously, and none of them had ever seen him lose his temper, not even when he’d lost an entire day’s worth of work when an intern spilled fruit juice on his laptop.
He was well-paid, but not excessively so. If someone wanted ransom, Meka wasn’t necessarily the best target, unless they thought they could get Jalen to pay for her release. From what I knew about him, that wouldn’t have actually been that far-fetched. Besides, that usually meant making contact to ask for ransom, and that hadn’t happened.
I was still going to put everything on the board to make sure I hadn’t missed anything, but I was as certain as I could be with what I had that neither Theo nor anyone he worked with was responsible for Meka’s disappearance. Which meant I’d be taking a look at those names on Theo’s list…and considering the fact that she might have run away.
Twelve
Adare had stopped by last night and taken a look at my whiteboard. I’d given her the basics of what I’d learned so far, and she agreed with me. Theo wasn’t involved, and neither was anyone he worked with.
Which was why I was making my way to Centennial High School to see if I could scare some information out of teenagers. Okay, maybe not scare, but some kids needed a good kick in the ass before they did the right thing.
I wouldn’t be using that particular pitch to get into the school.
Instead, I pasted on my best smile and lied through my teeth. I was Meka’s aunt who’d moved out here to help get her back on track. To do that, I needed to talk to people who knew her. Fortunately, I was able to get Theo to call the school and let them know I was coming in, which meant that after I signed in and went through security, I was golden. I gave them Theo’s list and asked them to send teachers and anyone else they thought of my way.
I was there for hours, talking to teachers and students, some of whom actually knew Meka, but others who’d only wanted to get out of class. Her teachers all said similar things about her. Bright girl. Lots of potential. Needed to focus more on school work than on socializing. She did moderately well on most of her tests, but she rarely did homework. She had a natural gift for math, so she did better there without the extra work.
All of those things could mean that something was wrong in her life, or it could just be that she was acting like a typical teenage girl.
Kids who were ‘friendly’ but weren’t actual ‘friends’ described Meka as a loner, quiet, without many friends. But that wasn’t how her friends thought of her. Three of the female names on Theo’s list were friends, and they all said she was smart, funny, sarcastic, out-going. She was the one who tied them all together.
And then there were the boys.
According to them, Meka was both a slut and an ice princess. A prude. The sort of girl who’d give blowjobs to the entire football team one minute, and a cock-tease who never put out the next. She was described as trash who would spread her legs on the first date as well as one of those girls who wouldn’t give any sort of action, no matter how much money a guy shelled out.
With all of it, good and bad, from friends or acquaintances or guys who wanted her, there was one thing that they all had in common.
A name.
Shawn Atkins.
Meka’s boyfriend.
I didn’t like him. He came into the room, sat down across from me, and I felt an immediate dislike for him. He was one of those smug guys who irked me to no end. He was older than Meka by a couple years, but the patchy scruff on his chin made me think he was trying to be even more ‘mature.’ He had messy blond hair that I was sure he thought made him look sexy or something, and dark eyes that were just as arrogant as the expression on his face. Not only arrogant but lecherous also.
The little bastard was checking me out.
“I hear you’re Meka Ludwick’s boyfriend.”
“Boyfriend?” He snorted. “I don’t tie myself down like that.”
“Pretty much everyone says you’re with her.”
He looked up from ogling my chest and shrugged. “What can I say? Bitches dig me.”
There was so much wrong with that sentence that I had to remind myself that this wasn’t the time or the place to give him lessons on not being a misogynistic asshole.
“When was the last time you saw Meka?”
He shrugged again. “We hooked up the other night, but I ain’t seen her since I left her, rode hard and put away wet, if you know what I mean.”
“I’m going to ignore how little you know about women – and grammar – and stick to the matter at hand.” I gave him a hard look. “Have you heard from her recently? Within the last couple days?”
He leaned forward, dropping his eyes to the front of my shirt again. “I thought you was here to help her with school shit. What’s that got to do with the last time I talked to her?”
I sighed. This was the last person I had to talk to aside from the principal, and I’d lost my patience two ‘players’ ago.
“Yes or no. Just answer the question.”
He shrugged. “My phone was broke all weekend.”
I narrowed my eyes. A teenager who didn’t get a new phone thirty seconds after their old one died was suspicious in my book. This kid was on my suspect list, but I needed to be careful to stay objective. Just because I thought he was an ass-hat didn’t mean he had anything to do with Meka’s disappearance. With teenage boys, natural teenage hormones and sociopathy were hard to tell apart.
“All right. If you hear from he
r, tell her to give her dad a call. He’s worried.” I watched him carefully, but that damn hair covered too much of his face for me to see even a flicker of guilt. “Get out of here.”
I rubbed my temples as he left. I’d do my due diligence and talk to the principal, but I was ready to get out of there. I hadn’t liked high school the first time through. Kids whispering rumors about why I didn’t have parents. About why I changed in the bathroom instead of the locker room.
I shook my head and stood. The quicker I got it done, the quicker I could leave and organize my thoughts at home. Hopefully, I’d find something in all of my notes that would point me in the right direction.
I walked out of the school a few minutes after the last bell rang, and it amazed me how fast the hallways had cleared. The last of the buses were pulling out of the parking lot, and the kids who’d driven themselves were already long gone. I’d parked in the ‘guest’ lot which was right next to the teachers’ lot, so my car wasn’t the only one out there, but it still felt deserted.
I stopped next to my car, digging in my purse for my keys and mentally cursing myself for not having gotten them out while I was still inside. I caught a glimpse of a reflection in the driver’s door window, and something about the looming figure told me that whoever was behind me didn’t have honorable intentions.
I started to turn, my body automatically falling into the stance I’d learned in my self-defense classes years ago, but I wasn’t fast enough. A fist collided with my jaw and pain exploded across my face. My lips smashed into my gums, and I tasted blood. My body jerked around, slamming against my car with bruising force. My vision went blurry, and I fought to keep from passing out. I didn’t know what this guy wanted, but I didn’t think for a moment that an unconscious me would have a better chance of making it out of this without any further injury.
“Nosy bitch,” he growled as he grabbed my hair.
I let out a pained cry and grabbed at his arm. My nails slipped off the jacket he wore, the fabric too smooth to give me much purchase. Instead of holding me away from him, he trapped me between the door and his body, the weight of him preventing me from hitting or kicking him.
His face was masked, and all I could make out was that he was white and had brown eyes, neither of which was going to help when I called the cops on his ass. I let the anger bubble up inside me, burning away the slight edge of panic that wanted to come forward.
The fact that this behemoth of a man smelled like rotten cabbage helped. Nothing in my past was that gag inducing.
“Let go of me, you bastard,” I said through gritted teeth.
“This is your only warning. Stop looking for the girl.”
I barely had time to process the words before he slammed my head into the car. My knees buckled, and my arms dropped, giving him an open shot at my ribs. He hit me twice, forcing the air from my lungs, and then he let me fall to the blacktop.
I gasped, sucking in blood-flavored air that made me cough. Pain wracked my body, and I closed my eyes. I blocked out sight and sound, focused on the necessities. Air, for one. Breathing. Important.
One breath at a time. That was how I’d gotten through it before, how I’d been able to block out the agony to do what I needed to do. It took a minute, but I was finally able to get enough oxygen that my lungs weren’t burning. It still hurt, but I was able to open my eyes. As I ignored the pain in my side, the throbbing in my jaw and head made themselves known but being able to breathe helped me push past it.
I braced my back on the car and pushed myself up until I was standing. The world spun for a moment, and I waited for it to pass. As soon as it did, I climbed into the car and drove away. I was halfway home before it even occurred to me that a hospital would possibly be a better idea. Then I realized that going to the hospital would mean calling the police, and I was no longer sure that was the best course of action. Whoever that man was, he’d proven that someone didn’t want me to find Meka, and I doubted that a kid had that much pull. If I went to the cops, I could be putting her in more danger.
I knew enough basic first aid to know that I could patch myself up and keep an eye out for things like dizzy spells and nausea. I didn’t want to go into a store like this, especially not now that I could feel blood oozing down the side of my face, but if I remembered correctly, the office had a first aid kit.
I dreaded trying to explain to Adare what happened, but when I walked into the office, she wasn’t there. I saw a note on the desk telling me that she wasn’t feeling great and had already gone upstairs. I made a mental note to check on her later, then started looking for the first aid kit.
I didn’t realize that I hadn’t locked the door behind me until I heard the door open. I spun around, a letter opener in hand, only to find Jalen standing there with a shocked look on his face.
“What the hell happened to you?”
Thirteen
I could’ve taken his question as an insult, considering how intense he sounded, but the anger I saw on his face didn’t support that particular theory. He was pissed that I was hurt. Not that that made much sense. He barely knew me.
“It’s nothing,” I said, turning back to the cabinet I was rummaging through. “Give me a moment.”
“Sit down.”
I turned to tell him I was okay and nearly collided with a broad, muscled chest. Damn. For a moment, I actually forgot what had happened and how much I hurt.
“I’m fine.”
He reached out, his hand hovering over my injured cheek. The muscles in his jaw worked, those exquisite eyes of his flashing with a depth of emotion that surprised me.
“I’m assuming you have a good reason for not going to a hospital.”
I started to nod, then winced at the pain in my head. “They’ll want to know what happened, and then they’ll want to know why it happened. Considering how they’ve approached this case, I don’t want to talk to them about it. It could put Meka in danger.”
His expression darkened even more, and a little thrill went through me. “This was because of me?”
“It was a warning,” I admitted. A stab of pain went through me, and I winced. As much as I loved being this close to him, I really wanted to get some painkillers and clean up a bit. “Can we have this discussion after I find the first aid kit?”
“Shit. I’m sorry.”
I wasn’t sure which was hotter, angry Jalen, or sheepish Jalen. I did know that I liked both of them a little too much.
“Sit,” he said again, but his voice was gentler this time. “Where is it?”
I sank into Adare’s seat. “I think it’s in the bottom of the file cabinet over there. I haven’t looked there yet.”
I watched him as he walked across the room, and despite the pain I was in, I had to appreciate that tight ass of his. It was too bad he was completely off limits.
Completely.
“Found it.” He came back in with a small metal box and then went into the bathroom for some wet paper towels.
Instead of handing them over so I could take care of myself, he stepped closer. His fingers held my chin in place as he dabbed at the cut over my eyebrow.
“How bad is it?”
“Not too bad,” he said. “The bleedings already stopped, and I know how to make a butterfly bandage if there’s not one in that kit already. Head wounds bleed a lot, even if they’re shallow.”
“Dealt with a lot of head injuries before?” I asked.
He gave me a wry smile. “I may have gotten into fights a time or two growing up.” He gave a small chuckle before adding, “And fallen out of a tree more than once.”
I laughed, then grimaced. “Bastard hit me in a jaw. Can you hand me one of those Vicodin? Adare left a couple in there from a few weeks back when she had a kidney stone.”
Jalen’s eyes narrowed, his anger back again. He grabbed the bottle and handed it to me. “Tell me what happened.”
It wasn’t a request this time, and a part of me wanted to refuse just to see what he�
�d do, but he was patching me up, so after I dry swallowed two of the pills, I gave him a quick but complete rundown of my last few hours.
“Fuck,” he growled when I was finished. “I never would’ve…dammit!”
Tension radiated off him, but he still managed to put little butterfly bandages across the cut on my forehead. His fingers lightly traced over my cheek, the touch sending a sizzle of heat through me.
“Anything wrong with any of your teeth?” he asked, his expression serious. “Loose? Hurting? Cracked?”
“No, I think he didn’t hit me as hard as he tried. I was turning my head when it happened.”
He shook his head as he cupped my chin. His thumb slid across my bottom lip, careful not to press on the throbbing cut near the corner.
“Ribs?” he asked softly.
“Sore, but I don’t think they’re broken.”
“That’s good.” He frowned. “I’m a little worried about your head though. You could have a concussion.”
“I don’t think so,” I said, grinning at him. “I’ve gotten in more than one or two fights in my life. I know what to look out for.”
He took a step back, dropping his hand. “Are you seriously smiling right now? You got beat up today.”
“I didn’t say it was fun.” I stood, pressing my hand to my side as it protested. “But it comes with the job.”
“You’re a private investigator, not a cop,” he pointed out with a little more vehemence than necessary.
“I appreciate the sentiment,” I said, “and the doctoring, but stuff like this happens.”
He shook his head. “Not anymore. Give me what you have, and I’ll take it to the cops. You’re done.”
