Finding Love (Behind Blue Lines Book 3)

by Christine Zolendz

  Sheri smirked and sauntered toward the kitchen. “What about the can of emergency money?”

  That’s all she was concerned with. I dropped my eyes to the floor, where smears of blood covered the cheap carpet. I felt lightheaded and dizzy. Somehow, there was blood in my nose, on my hands, stained dark and almost black down the front of my shirt.

  Addison rushed out from behind me and dove into Sheri’s legs, wrapping her small arms around them in little vise-like grips. Her face was a portrait of pure agony and fear as Sheri tried to push her off, kicking her legs out. Addison held tight, dangling like a ragdoll, and Sheri continued her search for money, dragging Addison across the floor.

  I stepped forward to get my daughter, but the edge of my sight dimmed and pulsed. My body, uncontrollable, collapsed to the floor. Addison's screams grew louder and louder; the scent of blood stronger and stronger.

  My heart thudded slow and thick in my chest.

  For a moment, I just sat, slumped against the wall, trying to focus on why my limbs weren’t responding to my brain.

  Beyond Addison’s screams, I heard a sound, something crashed, some explosive noise that shattered glass and vibrated through the floor.

  I heard Addison’s voice scream out once more, and then there was nothing but complete and utter silence. My sight darkened, my limbs weakened, and all I could do was scream my daughter’s name.

  Chapter 21

  Callie

  My skin prickled at the sound of Addison’s cries. They tore through my heart and turned my scalp icy cold. There would be no good reason a child would scream like that unless something horrible happened—it wasn’t one of her regular tantrums—these wails were laced with some deep, primal fear. Something or someone was hurting her.

  I rushed across the street to find Dylan’s front door open. He wasn't a careless man in that regard; something was definitely wrong, he was the sort of protective man who would double check to make sure he locked all the doors before settling in for the night.

  I pressed myself up against the cold brick façade of the house, listening. What if Dylan didn’t need me? What if this was me being a paranoid cop? Cynical and untrusting.

  There was a low rumble of voices, and Addison was shouting out again, sobbing for her mother. I closed my eyes and breathed in deeply. My ears throbbed with the beating of my heart as I tried to calm myself. Sheri was inside, wasn’t she? A thin wall separated us, the family I'd never have and me. Maybe I should just leave.

  But the yells coming out of Addison’s mouth didn’t sound happy. Whether Sheri was there or not, I needed to see if Addison was okay.

  I leaned forward and peeked into the front window. Nothing looked wrong at first, not until I noticed a dark shape hunkering down just under the windowsill, on the other side of the wall from where I stood. I pushed myself up onto the balls of my feet to get a better view. Whatever it was moaned, muted by the layer of the brick wall separating us, yet I still couldn’t make out what or who was there.

  A dark shadow dashed through the next room, just through the opening of the living room, and Addison was screaming again for her mother. I followed Addison’s voice with my eyes and saw her small shape hiding, balled up behind Ben’s playpen in the corner. The dark shadow hurried past the open doorway again quickly, followed by another bigger shadow.

  There were other people in the house?

  I ran to the next window, closer to where I could see Addison, and got a better view of the north wall of the house. That’s when I saw Dylan, slumped up against the wall under the front window, where I had been standing on the outside of the house. His clothes were dotted with stains of red. Was he bleeding?

  I didn’t spot Ben anywhere inside. Where’s Ben? Was Dylan hurt badly? Was Addison? I needed to rein in my fear. I needed a clear head.

  I pulled out my phone and called it in, staying on the line with dispatch. She told me not to engage or enter the residence, but by the time I gave her my identification and location, I was already shimmying through the front door, breaching Hell.

  If anyone hurt those kids, God forgive me, I’d shoot first and ask questions later.

  “Check in the fucking kid’s room! The kid’s room!” a female voice said quickly. "Christ, it's got to be here somewhere!" Cabinets opened and closed. I heard the woman banging them shut and opening others. Pots and pans clanged to the floor in loud bursts. “Fucking shit! It’s here somewhere. I know. I know it is. A goddamn lot of it. In a can. A fucking coffee can.”

  It was the first time I ever heard Sheri’s voice. I was taken aback by her rushed angry tone and the aggressive words. I tiptoed toward her demands and watched as she zipped and twitched around the room. Exaggerating her movements, she opened the microwave, slammed it closed, and pushed random buttons.

  “Here’s an ATM! I'll just warm some up. It'll take two minutes, and it'll be done." She smacked her palms along the counter. “I pressed two hundred dollars. But I think we need more!”

  Did she think the microwave was an ATM?

  My God, Sheri was high.

  “Where’s the money? Where’s the fucking money!” a man’s voice roared in the room next to me.

  Addison sobbed in response, “Daddy! Daaaaaddy! Mooooooommmy!”

  My vision blurred with rage. I knew I was too emotional to be there by myself, but listening to Addison cry for her mother, I felt a force so strong, so intensely in my chest connected with her, I stepped into the living room, engaging my weapon; eyes, muzzle, threat.

  “Step away from her!” I shouted, aiming my firearm for a kill shot. In some far off part of my brain, alarm bells rang out, warning me how dangerously close I was to snapping and losing all control.

  Addison had barricaded herself behind Ben’s playpen; her face was bright red and streaked with tears. The man, whoever he was, stood in the middle of the living room, blocking my way to Addison. He was leaning heavily to the left, and blood dripped from his fingertips, spreading a stain of crimson around his feet. Dylan looked unconscious across from him. He was just unconscious, right? My fingers itched to feel his pulse. My eyes welled with tears, and I fought them hard. I couldn't tell from where I was standing if he was breathing. A wave of nausea crashed through my stomach, leaving me breathless.

  “Dylan,” I gasped out, only to have my voice end in a sob.

  Another swell of queasiness rolled deep in my gut. The thought of Dylan hurt was making me sick to my stomach. I couldn’t take in enough air—terror paralyzed me—something happening to Dylan…it would kill me. Dylan dying would destroy me. I felt my heart wrenching down, sinking fast into my churning intestines.

  I needed to touch him. Feel for a heartbeat. There was so much blood. Was it his? And where was Ben? I couldn’t think straight.

  I couldn't take my eyes off my target, but I needed to see if Dylan was okay. I couldn't breathe right not knowing, seeing him lifeless on the floor of his own house. I took a slow sidestep toward his body, my firearm still aimed at the intruder’s forehead and without taking my eyes off my objective. I reached out and felt Dylan’s neck for a pulse.

  Warmth flooded my chest.

  My knees tingled.

  He was alive. I felt his heartbeat under my fingertips, strong and steady.

  Dylan was here. Addison over there. The threat in front of me, another in the kitchen. But where was Ben? Where the hell was Ben?

  “Where’s Ben?” I demanded.

  Sheri walked jerkily into the room then, eyes dilated into massive black holes. "Do you have the money?" she asked.

  “Slowly walk over to your friend,” I demanded. My voice shook, cracked with rage. Where was Ben?

  Her eyes bounced around the room, never once acknowledging the gun in my hands. She took two steps toward where I told her to go and lurched into a cartoonish stop.

  “You got my money. Don’t you?” she snarled and scratched violently at the top of her scalp.

  I wanted to scream at her—at the both of them�
��why could no one tell me where Ben was?

  The guy became instantly agitated next to her, slamming his fists into his chest, glaring at me. “Give us the money, bitch. Just give me the fucking money!”

  Both of them looked like severe meth addicts. Sheri looked better the day I found her with a needle jammed in her arm, overdosing on heroin than she did tweaking out in front of me right now. Had she even stayed in rehab at all? Her face was covered in small sores and looked gaunt and hollowed out. She looked like she’d aged about thirty years since the last time I saw her. And the guy she was with showed signs of meth mouth. He was missing most of his bottom teeth, and what was left were blackened gums and a foul odor I could smell all the way from where I stood.

  Addison whimpered in the corner and cried out for me. “Callie,” she wept, “I’m scared.”

  My throat clenched up, and my heart crashed against my ribs like a punching fist. Both meth heads stared at me, twitching their shoulders and necks, wiping and slapping at whatever bugs or creatures they hallucinated were crawling on their skin. Still, neither noticed there was a gun drawn on them.

  “Do you have my gummy bears?” Sheri asked, clawing at her mouth.

  "We need the gummy money," the guy said, pacing and circling Sheri. "Where's your can?"

  I smiled calmly at them with uncontrollable, trembling lips. “Both of you, sit down on the couch.”

  “We need to get the money. The gummy money!” the man screamed.

  Addison cried harder in the corner and covered her face. God, poor Addison; this would give her nightmares for the rest of her life.

  "Sit on the couch, right now, and I'll give you the gummy money. I just want to get Addison," I said, holding my hand out for the child. “Come on, Princess. I’m right here.”

  “You want my family?” Sheri asked, giggling. “Fifty bucks,” she offered, licking her lips obsessively. “Fifty. Sixty! You got sixty? Ninety?” She was running in place now, spastically.

  I hoped Addison didn’t understand any of this. “Come on, Addison.” I gestured my fingers at her. I needed her out of the house, or at the least in another room. I needed her away from these monsters, but her wide eyes darted back and forth from Sheri to Dylan, and she hugged her knees closer to her chest.

  God, poor baby…these were her parents. The bridge of my nose burned with emotion. I just wanted to get her away from them. I wanted her safe. She shouldn't see this madness.

  “You got the money? We need more Crissy,” Sheri said, bouncing her shoulders up and down. She bumped into the guy, and a smudge of blood smeared over the sleeve of her shirt.

  Crissy…they were on crystal meth. Damnit. And what happened to the guy’s arm? I eyed it until I saw what the source of blood was: a compound break in his forearm. He wasn’t using the arm, but I didn’t think he realized yet what happened to it. I had the feeling Dylan had something to do with the arm. I just couldn’t figure out how this guy got the upper hand after.

  “Gimme. Gimme money, and you can have the family. Take them. I just need the right amount. Did you get the ATM to work?" Sheri asked me.

  "Where's Ben?" I asked, trying to get a peek outside the window from the corner of my eye.

  I didn't hear him crying. A huge lump clogged my throat, and I swallowed back tears. God, please don't let something have happened to him, please.

  I shifted back slowly, closer to Dylan, and nudged him with the toe of my boot. He moaned softly and attempted to open his eyes.

  "Dylan? Dylan?" I pushed my foot into his side, and it came away drenched in blood. "What the…?"

  Sheri made a sudden move, and I screamed, "Okay! Okay, sure I have the gummy money."

  They both stared at me, becoming more excited and twitchy than before.

  A sudden electric blue light flashed along the walls, and I took a deep breath. "I'll trade you families, Sheri, yours for mine. Go on out the front door. My family has what you need." I nodded sharply. “I promise you, Sheri. My family will give you exactly what you need.”

  The two of them bolted into the hallway and stumbled toward the front door. I holstered my firearm instantly and dropped to my knees as Addison ran to me. I held her against my chest and wiped her blood from her hands.

  "Are you hurt anywhere? Did they hurt you? Are you bleeding somewhere?”

  “They hurt Daddy,” she sniffled. “It’s my Daddy’s blood,” she said, collapsing her trembling body against me.

  “It’s okay, Princess. I promise. You’re safe now.”

  Through the front door, a sea of blue uniforms flooded in. My family.

  "He needs an ambulance, hurry. And there's a five-month-old baby somewhere in the house!"

  But they couldn’t find Ben anywhere.

  Chapter 22

  Dylan

  All I could feel was pressure; a heavy weight bearing into my shoulder and sinking into my side, pulling me to the floor. I didn’t feel pain.

  Not at first.

  It was like being underwater, the drowned out sounds of voices and dampened hum of liquid filling your ears. Dark shapes moved around me, but I couldn’t tell one form from another. I drifted up, but my body pushed down as if sinking into a warm bath.

  It wasn’t until I raised my hand that I felt anything.

  Somewhere above me, a dark shape touched a warm hand to my throat. Instinctively, I lifted my hand to protect myself, and it was covered with blood. Why was there blood? I’d been hit with a blunt tool, punched really. Was it someone else’s blood all over me?

  Where were my kids? Were my kids bleeding?

  A cold, icy wind swept through my body. It was strange how I felt the wind on the inside of me, blowing through my skin. I blinked up at the ceiling, realizing it needed to be repainted. Maybe I would after I catch my breath. Why couldn't I find my breath?

  I blinked again, and the room was darker. Strangers in dark blue uniforms made a wall around me. A few shapes closed in on me, crushing me with their arms and bodies.

  I sunk deeper under the water. I tried to grab out with my hand, but I could grasp nothing and my vision dimmed slowly until darkness settled over me and just the low murmur of hushed voices could be heard.

  “Oh Dylan, please. Please be okay.”

  I smiled up at the sound of the beautiful voice. Callie was there. As long as Callie was there, the kids would be fine.

  "Please, Dylan. Don't you die on me!" Callie was screaming. Her beautiful voice was full of agony, and I wanted to reach for her. I tried to ease her fear, but she was somewhere under me, far away.

  Then I floated up, yanked up from the heaviness, and there was nothing but warm air surrounding me until I felt nothing at all.

  Chapter 23

  Callie

  How awful is silence when all you want is for it to be full of sound, some sign of something other than your complete insignificant life on this planet. Ben’s silence was deafening.

  If there was a baby in the house, he made no noise. Not a cry, not a gurgle or coo. I ran, mind racing into each room, tearing open closets and cabinets, drawers and boxes. Each place came up empty.

  In the living room, paramedics rushed Dylan onto a gurney. "Multiple stab wounds…loss of blood…"

  On the middle of the carpet was Dylan's work bag, his tools spilling out of it. A wrench and a sharply pointed plier lay on top, soaked with thick red blood.

  “Dylan?” My voice cracked in agony.

  “Cal…” He coughed, and blood flecked across his lips.

  I started crying, wiping quickly at my tears so he wouldn’t see. There was so much blood.

  “I-I’m here,” I stammered, trying to calm the hysteria rising in my stomach. “Dylan? Where’s…where’s Ben?”

  His eyes closed, and a soft whimper escaped from his mouth as he tried to repeat my name. Please God, don’t let my name be the last word on his lips. Please God, don’t let him die.

  His body stilled, and I instantly panicked. "Dylan? Dylan! Stay with us, Dylan!"
I touched one of his hands and held it in mine, and tears streamed down my cheeks. “Where’s the baby? Dylan?”

  He needed to wake up. His head lay limp on the thin white pad of the stretcher. His blood spread on the white sheets, a stain that grew as quick as my heart was beating.

  Dylan?

  I was just going to shake him and wake him up. He needed to tell me he was okay. I just need him to tell me he was okay and Ben was okay.

  “Where’s Ben? Where’s Ben? Dylan, please no. Don’t leave me!”

  They pushed the gurney out of the house in a mad dash, clanking it down the front steps and right into the back of the ambulance.

  Someone held me back. Strong arms wrapped tightly around me, pinning my body against theirs. “Detective Ward? Callie? Focus. Come on, focus!”

  I stilled, staring at the window, watching them close the back doors of the ambulance. “Where’s Ben?”

  “That’s what we’re trying to figure out, Ward, so just calm down and take a breather.”

  “Right. We’re trying to find him.” I needed to focus on finding Ben.

  I inhaled slow and deep. I didn’t want anyone to make me leave. I didn’t want someone telling me I couldn’t be here because I was too involved in the situation. My limbs shook, and I just nodded my head in response to the officer who was holding me.

  “I’m good, I’m good. You can let me go now.”

  The officer hesitated for a moment before I was free. “Thank you,” I said, putting my trembling fingers on his arm and gave him a reassuring squeeze. I cleared my throat and put my game face on. “I’m good. Let’s search the house again.”

  I scrambled into the corners of the room, turning over furniture and toys as I went. The actual crime scene was blocked by dozens of uniforms, pointing and talking.