The Deputy's Baby

by Tyler Anne Snell

  However, Cassie wasn’t having it. Her internal burner was on high. “You think you can just walk back into town after absolutely no contact and then have some kind of hold over me because we spent one night together. My being pregnant or not, that doesn’t give you the right to decide what I should or shouldn’t do!” The bend was finally evening out. Cassie’s anger was not. She almost missed the one glaring detail ahead of her on the street. Or rather, the lack of one.

  “They must have gone into the neighborhood,” Henry said, staring out the window at the empty street.

  There was no time to comment on her outburst, Cassie knew, but still couldn’t deny she felt a sting at his not acknowledging that he hadn’t reached out to her once in the last several months.

  “And we’re not following,” she intoned instead of continuing her rant.

  Henry nodded.

  He motioned to the shoulder of the street across from the Westbridge neighborhood sign. Cassie put on her flashers and pulled off onto the dirt, angling the car so if they needed to she could floor it right back onto the street. More trees stretched a few feet to their left, closing in the shoulder, while the neighborhood across the street looked like it was being swallowed by them. That was the beauty of Southern Alabama. Not only did you get farms and fields; there were the occasional woods thrown in, too.

  “So what? We wait until they come out?” Cassie put the car in park but kept her gaze on the entrance to Westbridge. “What if they don’t? What if they go into a house or ditch their car and run through the trees? I think there’s a county road that runs parallel to this one they could get to. Or maybe—”

  Henry opened the door. The sudden sound made her jump. “Wait, what are you doing? You said we weren’t going in there!”

  Henry didn’t answer until the door was shut and he had walked around to hers. Cassie rolled down the window. The heat pushed against her face. It didn’t improve her mood.

  “Call the chief deputy sheriff and let her know what’s going on. Tell her we followed that same man who gave you the ring earlier.”

  “And what about you?” Cassie asked, already feeling disgruntled at his show of authority. She’d been with the sheriff’s department for years. He was the new one. “I thought we weren’t going in there.”

  Then Henry did that thing he had done all those months ago that spelled trouble for Cassie. With a capital T.

  He smirked.

  It was like his lips were connected all over her body. In her stomach she felt the warmth of memory across her chest, the pain of longing beneath her waist and the irrational fear of being left again by a man she didn’t know. Combined, it made for a distraction wide enough to hide the man’s motive until he had to spell it out for her.

  “You aren’t going in there,” he said. “But I am.”

  * * *

  AT FIRST GLANCE, the neighborhood of Westbridge seemed normal enough. Henry kept his hand on the butt of his service weapon, touched his deputy’s badge to reaffirm his decision to follow the lead past the entrance sign, and stalked cautiously past the third house before he understood that his earlier assumption was wrong.

  Westbridge was quiet.

  Sure, it was a weekday and not yet time for the normal working class to be home, but still it was way too quiet. The type of silence that wasn’t intentional. No. It was the product of abandonment. Cassie had said the neighborhood was old.

  What she hadn’t said was that it was a relative ghost town.

  One-and two-story houses, some with siding covered in mildew and others in faded brick, sat sentry on either side of Henry as he moved deeper inward.

  The driving force of curiosity started to cool in his chest thanks to the nearly overpowering yell of his gut.

  This has to be a trap, it said.

  But for what? And why? the less rational part of his mind answered.

  All the while both parts focused on the real reason he had rushed headlong into a situation he normally wouldn’t have.

  The ring.

  It shouldn’t have been in Riker County.

  It shouldn’t have been in Alabama.

  It definitely shouldn’t have been in his pocket.

  Yet there it was. Like a weight was tied to it, dragging every part of Henry down.

  He didn’t want to find answers just to satiate his innate curiosity that came with the territory of being in law enforcement.

  No. He’d sure as hell earned them.

  The road curved enough so Henry couldn’t see if the car they’d been following was farther up ahead. Though, by Cassie’s estimation, Michael and his mystery driver weren’t going to be able to just drive out using another outlet out back. So, instead of staying in the open on the sidewalk, Henry moved across the side yard, deciding to stick closer to the houses to stay more hidden.

  Thunder rumbled in the distance.

  It should have been a sign. One that foreshadowed the result of Henry’s careless decision to pursue the unknown the way he had. Because he knew that was what it was. Carelessness. No backup. No real plan. Just a man hell-bent on understanding why the ring he’d given his best friend was now with him.

  But Henry’s steps never faltered.

  The moment his boots touched the backyard’s overgrown grass, he was staring at a man no more than twenty feet from him.

  It was Michael. And he had his head thrown back in laughter. Henry took out his gun. It didn’t faze the man.

  “You know, out of all the houses and backyards, you chose to come into this one,” Michael said, composing himself. His laughter died away but his grin did not. “I’d heard that you had a set of instincts that bordered on unnatural, but to see it in person? Well, that’s a treat.”

  Henry took in the yard around them as quickly as he could. Tall grass, a privacy fence in disrepair, the side opposite him missing altogether and showing the next yard over. And, as far as Henry could tell, no one else was in the vicinity.

  Where was the driver?

  “Who are you?” Henry demanded. He pulled up his gun, aiming for the man. Lacking backup wasn’t going to stop him from protecting himself if everything went south.

  “I’m Michael,” he said as if that explained it all.

  “Why give me some random ring?” Henry asked. “And then run off?”

  Michael was the sole recipient of a joke Henry couldn’t even guess at. He racked his brain, flipping through a mental Rolodex of names and faces from what felt like his former life, trying to place the man once again. Yet he was coming up empty. Not a feeling he was used to.

  Or liked.

  “Trying to find the right answers by asking the wrong questions is an interesting, risky tactic,” the man drawled. “One that I’m sure has worked on common criminals and those with less than average IQs, but here’s the deal, Deputy Henry Ward.” He moved his arms wide and smiled to match. “I’m not a criminal. I’m a broker. A smart one at that, too.”

  Henry had almost had enough of the man. He took a step forward, gun staying on target.

  “A broker, huh?” He smirked. Just because he was focused didn’t mean he couldn’t also show some of the cockiness the mystery man was exuding. “That’s a new one. What do you deal in? Let me guess... The cliché answer would be, what, information?”

  A muscle in the man’s jaw twitched. His smile faltered. But just for a moment.

  “Sometimes,” he admitted. “I like to wear many hats. It gives me an edge on my competitors. What keeps a client from shopping around more than if you’re a one-stop shop?”

  Henry couldn’t help himself. Try as he might to leave his former life behind, he knew there would always be moments when his old life would bleed through.

  “What are you? An infomercial?” he asked with a snort. “Do I have to give you two payments of $19.99 to get a real answer?”

&nbs
p; Just as Michael’s cockiness had caused Henry to answer in kind, Henry’s new attitude had clearly rubbed the man the wrong way. His smile wiped off. His body tensed.

  Henry made sure his grip on the gun was solid.

  Not that it would matter.

  “What I’m really good at isn’t information,” he said, voice taking on an edge so sharp it felt nearly visible. “It’s connections. Creating new ones...and reuniting old ones.”

  His eyes flitted over Henry’s shoulder. By the time he pivoted, gun swinging around with him, it was too late.

  Henry froze, his blood turning to ice.

  Despite years of training, a lifetime of honing reflexes and learning to listen to his gut, he couldn’t move.

  “I told him you’d be surprised to see me,” the man said in greeting. “It has been a while, hasn’t it, partner?”

  The ghost of Calvin Fitzgerald smiled.

  Though he didn’t seem to be as much a ghost as he should have been.

  “I know,” he continued, taking a step closer. “Confusing, right? Don’t worry. I’ll explain everything later. For now, I need you out of the way.”

  Henry wanted to ask a lot of questions.

  He didn’t mutter a word.

  Calvin reached out and patted his shoulder.

  “I can’t let them kill you, Henry,” he chided. Then, like a switch had flipped, the face of Henry’s former partner and best friend melted away. In its place was a dark, twisted mask of hatred. “Because I want to be the one who does that.”

  In hindsight, Henry saw the signs that the blow was coming. Saw Calvin make a fist, saw his stance change, and saw the pullback. He saw what was going to happen, seconds before it did. Why? Because he’d seen the man knock out a man before with a perfectly placed hit.

  He saw it all.

  However, hindsight was only good for the living. It rarely factored in the appearance of ghosts.

  Chapter Seven

  Henry remembered the first time he’d met Calvin Fitzgerald. They were both green and, according to their sergeant, had a lot of experience to gain before they could rise through the ranks of their police department. Henry saw it as being told he was beneath par, and that hadn’t sat well with him. Still, he’d known the pecking order and that only in time would he get higher on it.

  Keep your head down, put in the time, do the work.

  So he’d kept his mouth shut as his then sergeant finished the speech about their lack of experience and dismissed them. As soon as the door shut behind them, Calvin had turned to Henry, grinned and wondered out loud how big the stick was that had taken residence in the sergeant’s backside.

  It wasn’t called for, or professional for that matter, but it lightened the mood enough for normal conversation to take over.

  One year later and Henry and Calvin were thick as thieves, best friends, basically brothers.

  Then a year after that they were partners. Both heading into the unknown together, each promising to have the other’s back no matter what.

  One more year passed and then Calvin was dead.

  But he’s not.

  It was the first thought that entered the darkness in Henry’s mind. The pain waited for him to recall the twisted face of the man who had made a miraculous reappearance in the land of the living before it descended on him. He opened his eyes, wincing but ready.

  Though, once again, maybe not.

  “Whoa there, deputy,” came a woman’s rushed whisper. Henry’s eyes adjusted to the darkness that hadn’t just been in his head. He was leaning against a wall, staring at a strip of stained wallpaper curled and hanging next to his face. He winced again as he moved to get away from it, disoriented. Movement on the other side of the small room started to focus his attention.

  Enough light was coming through the broken blinds over the lone window in the room to show him the soft concern across Cassie’s face. She crouched down in front of him, one hand reaching out.

  “You have a knot on the back of your head,” she explained without preamble. Warm fingers touched the spot in question. A sting of pain quickly followed. Her expression softened a little more.

  “Calvin,” Henry bit out, anger starting to take up the slots he’d let his surprise fall into.

  How had he let himself be ambushed like that? How had he let the man get the upper hand when Henry had been the one armed? How had he let that happen?

  “You mean Michael?” Cassie’s eyebrow rose.

  “Both.”

  Henry cursed. Cassie shushed him.

  “I’m pretty sure they’re gone, but still I’d appreciate some inside voices,” she told him, stern. That was when Henry saw another emotion he didn’t like in the woman.

  She was worried.

  It deflated his anger.

  He needed to get his bearings.

  “Are you okay?” he asked. He eyed her stomach before finding her gaze. “What happened? And where are we?”

  He sat straighter and reached for his gun.

  It was gone.

  “I’m freaked out but okay.” Cassie stood but kept her voice low. “After you left, I called the department like you said to tell Suzy what was going on. No one answered. The line was dead.”

  “The line was dead,” he repeated, adopting her quiet.

  “Not even a busy signal, just dead.” A loud rumble sounded at the end of her words. Thunder. It seemed closer this time. Henry got to his feet. “So I called Suzy directly,” she continued. “It was busy. That’s not unusual, but both Matt Walker’s and Deputy Mills’ phones are either busy or going straight to voice mail?”

  “That is unusual,” he said.

  Cassie nodded, following him to the window. Without pushing the blinds aside he could see a sliver of faded siding on the house next door. They were still in Westbridge.

  “That’s when I saw Michael drive out of the neighborhood. I got nervous, so I came in after you,” she said. “It took me a little bit to find you, but when I did, you were knocked out cold on the grass. So, considering I can’t get hold of any backup, I dragged you into the closest house so we weren’t just out in the open.”

  Henry paused, hand in midair in front of the blinds. “Wait, so not only did you leave the car, but you knowingly walked into what could have been a trap?” His emotions split in two.

  He was angry she’d put herself and the baby in danger.

  He couldn’t help liking that she had thought he was worth the risk.

  Both thoughts immediately turned to a nearly overwhelming feeling of guilt.

  He wasn’t worth it.

  Either way, he could see Cassie’s indignation at his line of questioning before she even spoke.

  “Don’t forget I, the pregnant lady, dragged your mass of muscles up a set of back porch stairs, broke into a house and then managed to gently lay you down once inside,” she shot back, hands going to her hips. “I mean, it wasn’t like I could have called you anyways. Not that I’m confident about Carpenter’s cell service, but if I remember correctly, you once told me that you don’t have a number.”

  Henry turned back to the blinds, jaw tight.

  “We’re going to have to talk about that, I promise,” he said, voice detaching even to his own ears. “But right now we have bigger fish to fry.”

  He looked out at the house across from them and the yard between. It was the same one he had walked through. The same one Calvin had used to ambush him. The same Calvin that he’d watched get shot three times in the chest.

  Henry shook his head, trying to clear the unnecessary details. It didn’t matter how Calvin was still alive. What did matter was that he was and apparently he didn’t want the same for his old partner.

  “You said you only saw Michael leave in the car? Are you sure no one else was inside?”

  Out of his p
eriphery, a mass of blond curls shook side to side.

  “Unless they were lying down in the seats, I didn’t see anyone else,” she answered. “No one else drove in or out, either. Which is another reason I thought it best for me to get us somewhat hidden. I don’t know where Michael’s driver went. Like I said, there’s no easy way out of the neighborhood other than the entrance, and most of these houses haven’t been used in years.”

  They quieted a moment. Henry was trying to think.

  No gun.

  He reached into his pocket.

  Empty.

  No cell phone.

  Cassie had one but no one was answering.

  Or either couldn’t.

  Henry’s gut grumbled at him. It had already drawn several conclusions. His head injury, no doubt a concussion, was just making it slow to translate them.

  “Also, I’d like to point out that you’re the one who seemingly walked into a trap all willy-nilly, not me.”

  Henry looked over at Cassie, surprised. She kept her gaze out the window, but she still shrugged.

  “All I walked into was a rescue mission, thank you very much.”

  Despite the situation, Henry smirked.

  Their eyes met.

  Cassie smiled.

  And just like that, they were back in the Eagle, sharing drinks and looks over the pool table. Smiling at each other. Wondering what the rest of the night would bring. Wondering what each other felt like. Tasted like.

  Another boom of thunder sounded. This time it felt like it was right outside.

  Cassie’s smile dropped.

  “I also wanted to find you before it started raining,” she said. “There are no working lights on this road and with how dark it’s getting...” She shook her head. This time her hand went to her stomach, protectively.

  Henry pushed his shoulders back again. The pain in his head pulsed at the movement. No gun, no backup and a storm moving in.

  Not great to deal with but also not impossible, either.

  “Listen, I want you to call everyone and anyone you know who could send someone out here. Including local PD,” he ordered.