She yanked open the door and glared. “That’s not the password.”
I shrugged and pushed inside, freezing when I saw the utter chaos of the room. It looked like a massacre had taken place.
“What…” The words that were coming out of my mouth froze on the tip of my tongue as I took in the infant laying on Georgia’s t-shirt in the middle of the bed.
I looked at her again and realized that she was only in what she used as a bra and her jeans.
Not that she didn’t look good in it, but she would flash any man or woman who concentrated on her breasts for more than a glance.
“Did you have a baby while you were at work?” I asked in fascination as I walked up to the bed and stared down at the baby.
It was cute.
Small… really small, but cute.
“This is a young teen’s baby who I’ve been counseling about adoption this last week. I met her at the youth center. She called me this afternoon in a panic, and when I got here she left, saying she’d sign the rights away as soon as she worked up the nerve,” Georgia blurted.
I frowned. “Okay,” I hesitated on what I was about to say next. “She broke the law, though. You’re not a public safety officer. According to the Moses Law, she needed to give her child to someone such as a police officer, firefighter, or EMS worker. She won’t ever be able to get this child back. She could still face charges for abandonment or neglect.”
I hated to say it, but it needed to be put out into the open. I knew she knew it, too.
I saw it in her face. The way her shoulders slumped as I spoke.
“Fuck,” she said, wilting.
I saw how much this meant to her but I’d taken oaths just like she had.
She stayed silent for long moments, thinking and staring at the baby.
I could practically hear her mind whirling. Could see her thinking about ways for this not to end the way she knew it was going to.
“I’m going to have to call this in,” I said finally.
She hung her head and nodded.
“What’ll happen next on your end?” she asked.
I closed my eyes and gathered her into my arms. “I’ll let the supervisor on duty know. We’ll get EMS here, and they’ll take the baby to the hospital. The detective will gather all the information from us, and he’ll file charges on the girl.”
A tear slipped out of her eye, and I felt like I’d beaten a frightened dog, but I’d never give her less than the truth. She deserved that much.
She sniffled and then nodded. “Okay. Do what you have to do.”
And fuck me, but it was one of the hardest calls I’d ever had to make.
***
Later that night, I was sitting in the living room watching TV by myself.
Georgia had gone home, refusing to talk to me.
It’d hurt.
Like a fucking bitch.
I’d been sitting here for hours now, just waiting for her to call. But she never had.
My phone on the table started to vibrate, and my heart leaped in my chest.
I dove forward, scooping it up in my hand and putting it to my ear without even looking at the readout.
“Georgia?” I asked.
“Sorry buddy, just me,” Luke said, dashing my excitement with four little words.
I sighed and leaned back against the couch. “It’s okay.”
He grunted. “She’s still not talking to you?”
I shook my head, even though he couldn’t see me. “Nope.”
“Fuck me,” he sighed. “I hate to do this to you, because it’s not going to help you with her… but the girl. The one who gave up the kid… she’s dead. Killed herself in her bedroom by wrapping some paracord around her neck and around the ceiling fan.”
My fist came down hard on the couch, and I wanted to fucking scream.
“Goddammit,” I hissed through clenched teeth.
“Yeah,” he agreed. “It wasn’t pretty. The parents are freaking out about their ‘good catholic girl’ being defiled and then committing the ultimate sin. It wasn’t good.”
I didn’t believe it would be. In fact, I imagined it hit pretty close to home for Georgia since she could’ve been that ‘catholic girl’ after I’d nearly done the same exact thing to her nearly eight years ago.
Astringent forces had taken over the reins of our lives that one sunny afternoon and forever altered the course of our lives.
And not for the better.
I still remembered that night and the day following like it was yesterday.
We hadn’t had sex, but we’d done everything but. We hadn’t slept the entire night, talking about our hopes and dreams. Our wants and likes. We spoke about our lives together, marriage, and her going to college while I was deployed.
It’d been the best night of my life, having her in my arms like that.
Then I’d woken up to her already on her way back to her house and I’d gone about my day. I felt better knowing she’d be back after they were done working the cattle.
Except she’d never come back, and my life had irrevocably changed.
“Alright, man. Well, she’s been ignoring my calls and texts. I don’t think I’ll be calling and leaving this on the voicemail. I’ll tell her the next time she wants to talk to me. Thanks for keeping me informed,” I sighed.
After a few more pleasantries, I decided that a long jog might be just the thing I needed.
I changed into running shorts and tennis shoes and walked out my door, making sure to arm my alarm behind me.
The night was cooler than most Texas summer nights.
Low eighties, it was the perfect weather for a run.
I started out running at my usual pace, but when I could still feel my demons pounding away at my head, I ran faster.
I made my first four miles without any incident.
I would’ve made the last two much the same if I hadn’t caught a dark figure looming at the end of the driveway.
As I got closer, I realized the dark figure belonged to two men, one of which being Georgia’s younger brother.
I slowed to a stop and looked at him, studying his body posture as he looked at the large pile of trash bags that’d been sitting there for nearly three days.
I could tell he was going to do something when he started strolling purposefully up the driveway.
He stopped cold, though, at the sound of my voice.
“Don’t do it,” I said in a warning tone.
He stopped and turned, his friend moving with him, and stared at me.
“What do you want?” he snapped.
I gestured to the bags, and then the car that must’ve belonged to the friend.
“Just take your stuff and get moving. Don’t start trouble. It won’t end well. Clean up your act and she’ll accept you back home. Keep fucking around and your life won’t ever be the same,” I said softly.
He sneered at me. “What would you know about hardship? You’ve had a cake fucking life compared to me. I witnessed my own brothers and sister get shot. My mother. Then my father turned it on himself. Oh, and that was after he shot me. What could you possibly have happen to you that is worse than that?”
I tilted my head, wondering if I wanted to open that particular can of worms, but I decided that probably would be the best for this situation. Maybe if he knew he wasn’t the only one, he’d see his life really wasn’t that bad.
“When I was eighteen, I watched my baby sister get nearly raped by a man who was supposed to be one of my best friends. When I was twenty and I was deployed, my best friend was killed in front of my eyes. His head exploded when a rifle bullet penetrated his brain. Bits of his brain and bone splattered onto my face and into my mouth. Pieces of his skull lodged into my skin on my back when I ducked, and I have scars that look like shrapnel wounds on my back from it.” I took a deep breath and continued. “When I was twenty one, the woman I’d fallen in love with was
shot, and her family was tortured. I never even knew if she was all right until nearly six months later. Then when I was deployed shortly after that, I had a reckless streak a mile wide. More of my best friends died trying to save me when I was captured and tortured. I’d been held in captivity for nearly a month. Then I watched as the same thing was done to them because they thought to save me when it was my fault I’d gotten there to begin with.”
He was silent as I spoke, but his eyes told me I was striking some well-placed blows.
“I got out of the Navy after that, but since then, I’ve lost a total of twenty other people. All of which I watched. Bank robberies. Hold-ups at the gas station. A woman and her child being held at gun point because the father came home from Iraq not quite right in the head. Let me tell you something, son. Just a few weeks ago I shot a pregnant woman and killed her. You don’t know me. So how about you stop giving off the woe-is-me act and start making something of yourself, huh?”
With that, I started jogging again, knowing for certain he wouldn’t be going up that driveway.
I’d given him something for his youthful brain to chew on, and he would.
God only hoped that he made the right decision, because there were times where I don’t feel like I did.
I didn’t deserve Georgia. Not one fucking bit.
Chapter 15
All I care about is cake… and maybe like 4 people.
-Coffee cup
Georgia
I knew I’d made a mistake the minute I’d woken up the next morning.
The second I realized it, I called Nico, but he didn’t answer.
The text messages started out simple and to the point, but ended up being truly sweet and heartfelt as the night went on. Which made me feel even worse for how I’d acted last night.
Nico (7:57 p.m.) - I’m sorry.
Nico (8:35 p.m.) - Please talk to me.
Nico (9:01 p.m.) - There was nothing else I could do. I swear I didn’t want to do it.
Nico (9:42 p.m.) – I knew you’d be mine from the moment I first saw you. You were wearing a white cotton shirt that showed off a hint of your tanned belly. You had really tight jeans on that were so threadbare that I was sure any second you’d bend over and they’d disintegrate from around your ass. I fell in love with your smile first.
Nico (10:11 p.m.) - I fell in love with your voice second. So soft, sweet, and husky. You were talking to my pop about what you did in the mornings. I fell in love when you said you hated getting up early, but the ‘smell of cow shit in the morning really had a way of waking a person up.’ I still remember the look on my father’s face when you said that, and to this day I’ll forever thank you for the memory.
Nico (10:31 p.m.) – I fell in love with you over and over the last eight years. You may not have come out to speak with me directly, but knowing you were there to see me off really made the difference in my attitude throughout my time there. The first time I shot a man, it was you whispering in my ear that everything would be okay.
Nico (11:15 p.m.) – Sweet dreams, niña. I love you.
He said I love you. Oh, my God.
That’d been something I’d been yearning to hear for what felt like a lifetime.
And he’d said it in a text message while I was ignoring him.
It wasn’t the flowers and hearts edition that I’d always assumed would happen.
But it was Nico’s way.
“Shit,” I sighed, standing up and making my way to my bathroom where I took care of a few morning necessities.
By the time I got moving and into work later that morning, I still hadn’t come up with any other alternatives for how to explain to Nico about yesterday. Why it’d hurt me so freakin’ much.
I didn’t know why it had.
I knew he had to do his job, and I completely respected him for his integrity.
However, I’d counted on him when I’d called him for help.
Never in a million years would I have thought he’d go all cop on me.
I reluctantly got to work, going nearly the entire morning, then afternoon overlooking the fact that I was ignoring Nico.
I never received any more texts, but I received ones from the police station, which I only assumed was him.
I found out around lunchtime that it couldn’t have been further from the truth.
Mainly because a few pissed off SWAT team members came calling.
My phone buzzed when I was looking through the Sergei family’s folder.
“Um, Georgia?” Fran, the front office’s receptionist, called through my speaker.
“Yeah, Fran?” I asked distractedly.
“Umm, there are a couple of men out here to speak with you. They’re from the Kilgore Police Department,” Fran said, sounding extremely worried.
I narrowed my eyes at the folder in front of me, seeing that Mr. Sergei was denied adoption twice with his first child, too.
“Hey, Fran. You’ve been at FHAS for a long time, right?” I asked, scanning the file more.
I flipped to the very back, the beginning of the Sergei family’s time with us, and I practically felt my eyes bug out of my head.
“Yes,” she replied cautiously.
I ignored her hesitancy and asked, “How long ago did Masha Sergei work here?”
“We’ve had a Masha Artem work with us four years ago, but she got married and started doing pro bono work for her husband. She no longer specialized in adoption law,” she explained.
I flipped back to the bio pages, scanning Masha’s history. My brows raised when I realized that Masha Artem and Anton Sergei had gotten married six weeks prior to adopting their first child.
A child that Anton had been denied for nearly six months before his marriage to Masha.
I pulled out the notes I’d taken yesterday on the Sergei couple.
Anton Sergei. Wife Masha. Married thirteen years. Been trying to have children for twelve of them. After the third year of trying, went to fertility doctors. Tried for six years before started adoption. Two children- adoption.
Why would he lie about when he got married?
Unless…
I flipped back to the social worker that’d been on the Sergei case prior to me and was unsurprised to find the woman I’d replaced.
“Fran… the woman that I am covering the cases for… how long has she worked here?” I asked.
I could practically hear Fran’s gossip wheel turning.
She was one of the worst gossips in the office, but I liked her.
And her gossiping ways were very helpful right this moment.
“Stephanie Martin was here for around the same amount of time that Masha had been. Would you like to speak with her? I believe she’s going to be coming in later today to show the new baby off,” Fran tittered.
She sure as fuck better believe I was going to talk to her.
“Yes, Fran, I sure would,” I said, brows furrowing as I continued to scan the file.
Seriously, though. Had this Stephanie Martin been forging adoption criteria?
Because if what I read in the files were true, there was no way that Stephanie hadn’t known what was going on. None.
She would’ve had to double check this information like I’d done. She would’ve known.
There was no way on earth that she didn’t.
Hell, she hadn’t even tried to hide the fact. She had to have known. This was my first look at the file. And I was only a few short weeks out of graduating. This Stephanie Martin that I’d replaced was an adoption worker for nearly seven years.
“Georgia,” a man’s deep voice said from my doorway.
I jumped and squealed, eyes shooting to the door to see Luke, Downy, and Bennett standing in my doorway and beyond it to the hallway.
I tilted my head, looking behind them for Nico, but didn’t see him.
I calmed somewhat. I wasn’t ready to see him yet.
I’d hopefully grow
a pair by the end of the day, because I didn’t want to make him wait longer than that.
He didn’t deserve it.
I was being irrational and I knew it.
“Oh,” I said breathlessly. “Hey.”
They looked worried, and Bennett looked pissed.
“What’s going on?” I asked.
Luke walked inside, and the others followed.
Luke took one seat, and Downy took the other.
Bennett stayed at the back of the room near the door, leaning his back against the wall and crossing one leg over the other.
Luke wasn’t the first to speak, Downy was.
“We were originally here to talk to you about Nico and something we’d found out because you weren’t answering your phone. Now, however, we want to know more about what you’re working on. We heard you ask your receptionist about a Masha Sergei. And her reply. Can you tell us more about what’s going on?” He asked.
His questions were unusually calm, but I could tell he was hyperaware of my answers just by the intense way he was watching me.
So I explained what I suspected.
“I think that one of our social workers on maternity leave gave custody of a child over to someone who was denied. When he was denied, I believe he went on to marry the lawyer and was granted custody of the child he’d previously been denied. Now, that’s not really the suspicious part, since there are times that men or women are denied due to their availability to the child. A married couple has exponentially more possibility of being awarded custody than a single person. Whether it be a man or a woman. This couple, though, really bothered me yesterday during our interview. I knew immediately I didn’t want him or her around FHAS’s Angel. That poor girl’s gone through enough. That’s why I was looking into their file to see if my worries were warranted. And, apparently, it was because everything he told me yesterday was a lie.”
“FHAS’s angel?” Luke asked.
I nodded. “FHAS staff started calling her Angel when she arrived here. I’ve only met her once, a few days ago, but she’s a cute little thing. Tiny for only four months.”
I was rambling, because suddenly all three men’s intent eyes were focused solely on me. Not the wall behind me. Not the men I could hear mowing the lawn outside my window. All three dangerous gazes were on me.
Code 11- KPD SWAT Box Set Page 33
