by Angel Smits
“No. Thank you. Just a couple of blocks.” She pointed in the direction up the street.
He wasn’t about to step on that independence. So he nodded. She turned to go, then hastily turned back. Stretching on her tiptoes, she reached up and kissed him, hesitantly, on the cheek. Then hustled away, leaving him standing there in the middle of all that finery, not sure what the hell had just happened.
He hightailed it outside, taking in deep breaths of the hot city air. Women were strange creatures. He’d never understand them. That had been the most civilized cat fight he’d ever witnessed, and he’d seen plenty growing up. Maxine and Lauren had argued—in the midst of tea sandwiches and lace. And not a single plate had been broken.
His sisters would never believe him.
CHAPTER NINE
THE DANCE STUDIO teemed with life. Lauren was teaching in the back, and another of the teachers, Linda, had a group up front—a dozen little girls using performance tutus for the first time—and Maxine was actually upstairs on the stage with the main performers. Maxine wasn’t speaking to her, and had bypassed the usual staff meeting for practice.
Friday night would be a great performance—if they managed to get through the next couple of days.
Lauren took a deep breath, stepping back, and lowering her arms. This group meant the most to her. These were “hers.” They were all hearing impaired, and a big reason she’d wanted to start the studio in the first place.
Everyone was here, except Dylan, who’d landed the male lead. For the last week, Maxine had run him through the toughest paces he’d ever faced, and he was ecstatic. He still had moments where he worried about the legal case and Tina. But he was learning to separate the two worlds, not an easy task at fifteen. Heck, not an easy task at twenty-eight.
Lauren waved her arms, to get the kids’ attention and pull her own scattered attention back on track. As soon as they were all looking at her, she signed the next set of instructions, and they eagerly went to work. She clapped in time with their steps, guiding them the way Maxine had done for her as a kid. She enjoyed their performance, as much as their accomplishment. They’d come so far.
Ah, to be so young and innocent.
Simply wanting to dance and please. Not have to make a living with all this, not being responsible for the success—or failure.
The kids completed the final movement with perfection. Beautiful perfection. It almost eased her concerns. Almost.
“Okay, everyone.” She signed to her group and waved at Linda. The other group came over, giggling as they tried to sit in the stiff tutus. Finally, all the children settled on the floor, looking up expectantly. They knew the drill. Lauren would sign, and Linda would interpret for those who were hearing.
“Friday’s the big night. Are you all ready?”
Heads nodded and ponytails bobbed. “Ms. Ramsey?” Sarah Wilson asked, lifting her hand at the same time. “Is there really gonna be people there b’sides Mom and Dad?”
Linda laughed, as Lauren smiled at her. She’d read the girl’s eager words. Still, Lauren signed for the others. Christy piped up before either of the adults could answer. “Well, of course, silly. My mom and grandma are comin’.”
Lauren signaled for silence again. “There will be a full audience.” She hoped. The studio needed the money, and they’d sold most of the tickets. “You are all ready for this.” She didn’t ask them. She told them. Every head nodded in agreement.
Maxine and her group, the older kids, came in then, not sitting on the floor with the little ones, but leaning against the walls or standing behind the group. Dylan stayed a bit back, his arms crossed over his chest. Maxine’s brow was furrowed. Now what?
She sighed and gave the signal for everyone to finish up. Only Dylan and Maxine remained behind. The vibration of all those little feet on the floor as they headed to the locker rooms felt like a wave.
“Dylan is out of sync today.” Maxine didn’t hold back. Her signing was harsh and angry. Dylan recrossed his arms.
Yesterday he’d missed cues and lost track of where they were in the routine. Lauren hadn’t called him on it then, hoping today would be better.
“What’s wrong?” she signed, trying not to come across as angry. She needed him to relax and open up. She looked pointedly at her foster mother, wanting time alone with Dylan.
“Fine.” The older woman threw up her hands in her typical dramatic way. Lauren tried not to smile. “Hudson is outside. I’ll see you both tomorrow.” She did the whole air-kiss thing with Lauren, and though her hands shook, telling Lauren she wasn’t as calm as she wanted them to believe, she signed goodbye to Dylan.
“She cares about you,” Lauren signed. “Don’t be so stubborn with her.” They both watched Maxine walk slowly away, and Lauren wondered who that bit of advice was really meant for. She turned back to finish her conversation with Dylan.
He looked sheepish, clenching and unclenching his hands in a familiar nervous habit as he watched Maxine leave. “Tina didn’t come home again last night.” His fingers flew. He didn’t bother to speak. They never did when it was just the two of them.
“Oh, no.” Lauren squeezed his arm. “Did your foster parents do anything?”
He shook his head. “They didn’t know. I’m worried. I texted her. No answer.”
Lauren felt herself tense, her protective instincts going into high gear. Dylan was one of her best students, and one of the kindest people she knew. And a friend. She didn’t like to see him hurting.
“Have you texted Rhonda?”
He vehemently shook his head. “That will get Tina into more trouble.”
Lauren tapped her chin. How could she make Dylan feel better? She didn’t like what Tina was doing—but in many ways she understood. Hadn’t she done something similar as a teen? Pacing away, Lauren tried to think.
She had to do something. The performance was in two days.
“You have to focus.” Lauren went back to Dylan. “How can I help?”
“You can’t do anything.” Dylan’s face filled with defeat, and he slumped onto one of the chairs near the wall. “No one can.”
* * *
JASON LEFT THE COURTROOM. He glanced at the grand old-fashioned clock mounted in the middle of the rotunda. An hour to spare.
It figured that the week Wyatt and Emily were finally able to visit him was one of Jason’s busiest weeks, and one during which he couldn’t rearrange much of anything.
Getting out early today was the best Jason could hope for.
His phone buzzed, and he pulled it out as he descended the wide stone steps. Lauren. He smiled.
Do you have a minute? she’d texted.
For you, of course. Then it dawned on him that maybe there was a problem. Everything okay?
No. Tina didn’t come home last night. Dylan’s upset.
Jason cursed. What was wrong with that girl? Nothing that wasn’t typical teen behavior—except Los Angeles wasn’t the best place to experiment with spreading your wings at thirteen. And foster care didn’t leave much room for mistakes.
How can I help? He shouldn’t do this. He had to pick up Wyatt and Emily in an hour and a half. Did you text her?
No answer.
That could mean so many things. None of them good.
What’s her number? Let me try.
A number appeared on his screen. He hurried to his car but grumbled when he found no service inside the concrete bunker-like parking garage. He hustled to drive outside, and stopping at the top of the ramp, he dialed.
It went straight to voice mail. He texted Lauren, and she sent back a frowning emoticon.
What’s Dylan’s address? I can drive by and see if she’s at the house. He had it in a file, but getting it this way was much faster.
He’s afraid Rhonda will get
mad at Tina if she finds out she didn’t come home.
Those concerns Jason had about the family returned with a vengeance. He didn’t give a damn if anyone got upset. The girl’s safety, and that Dylan was okay, was all that mattered at this point. What’s the address? he typed again. I’ll say it’s for the case.
When the address appeared on the screen, he glanced at his watch. The house was about halfway between the airport and the studio. If everything worked out, he’d make it. Maybe.
I’ll let you know. Tell Dylan not to worry. Jason tossed his phone onto the passenger seat then headed out into traffic.
A short while later he was in front of a small craftsman-style house. The yard was thin, patches of dirt showing through the pale green grass. Ancient metal fencing surrounded the yard in a neat little square. Heat shimmered off the broken pavement of the street and, as he climbed out of his car, Jason heard the hum of a window air conditioner.
Disrepair had a hold on the neighborhood and was creeping deeper. Like the neighborhood around Lauren’s studio, time and neglect had left its mark. The house itself still looked in good repair and fairly well kept for a home with half a dozen kids living in it.
He was halfway up the walk before he heard the voices. The loud, angry voices.
“You try that again, young lady, and I’ll lock you in all night.” The woman’s voice was harsh and familiar. Rhonda Hancock. Was this the anger Dylan had feared?
“No!” Tina cried.
“Then get that cleanin’ done, now. Or tonight will be the same.”
Same as what? Jason hurried up the walk. The hair on the back of his neck was at full attention now.
“But I have to—” The sound of skin hitting skin cut off Tina’s words.
“You don’t have to do anything but get to work.” A phone rang, interrupting the conversation. “And give me that,” the woman yelled.
“Not my phone!”
Something shattered and Tina sobbed. Jason took the steps two at a time.
“That’s Dylan’s only way—”
“Dylan has more important things to do than worry about you. He’ll at least amount to something.”
Jason reached the door and knocked hard. The voices fell silent. He pulled open the screen and rapped again, harder, rattling the wooden door. “Mrs. Hancock. Tina?”
The door flew open. Jason expected to see Tina, either at the door, or behind the woman. She was nowhere in sight. Only Rhonda Hancock. He wasn’t ready to confront the woman yet, not until he knew where Tina was and who else was inside.
“I’ve been trying to reach Tina.” He wasn’t in the mood for pleasantries. This woman knew full well who he was. “I have more questions for her.”
“Oh, well, we can bring her to your office tomorrow.”
“No.” He took a step closer. “No, I need to see Tina. Now.”
The woman’s eyes widened, and Jason knew he was intimidating her. Good.
“Tina!” the woman yelled over her shoulder.
Shuffling steps came from the darkened interior. Slowly, Tina stepped into the light. Jason held back his reaction. Her deep, dark eyes were wide and sparkled with unshed tears. Behind those tears, he saw a strong shadow of fear, and on her left cheek was the clear imprint of a hand.
“Hello, Tina. Remember me?” For her he’d be pleasant.
All her attitude was gone, and Jason actually mourned its loss. It wasn’t something she’d have easily given up. Tina nodded, hugging the edge of the doorway.
Jason pinned Rhonda with his best courtroom glare. “I need to speak with her. In private.” He emphasized the last as much to see her reaction as anything.
The woman’s glare matched his. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. She’s my responsibility. You know that. You’re a lawyer.”
He knew crooks, too. “Why not? Afraid of what she’ll tell me?”
That got her attention, and his stomach churned as he waited for an answer. Rhonda turned around and looked at Tina, who hastily shook her head, moving as if she might melt into the wall.
“I’m not leaving until I talk with you, Tina.” He wanted to reassure her, but Rhonda was so unpredictable. For that matter, so was Tina. So he leaned back on his heels, affecting a less threatening stance.
The woman stepped away and cleared the path. “Be quick about it.”
“Come on outside.” Jason waved for Tina to come toward him and tried to smile at her. As she passed her foster mother, he saw the way she flinched.
“I’ll be watching you both.” Rhonda moved back into the doorway once Tina had passed. Jason held the screen open until Tina had stepped outside, then he let it close.
“Go all the way out to the gate,” Jason instructed. He wanted to make sure Rhonda couldn’t overhear anything.
Tina stopped right at the gate, looping her long thin fingers around the top row of metal.
“You don’t have to answer anything for me.” He spoke softly. “But I hope you will. First, is there anyone else in that house?”
Tina shook her head, still not looking at him.
“Where were you last night?” They didn’t have much time, and he needed to know what he was getting into. Tina’s shoulders hunched, and she stared at the sidewalk. She didn’t answer.
“Dylan’s worried. He’s why I’m here. I don’t really have any more questions for his case.”
She looked up at him then. Her eyes once again flooded with damp.
“Does your foster mother know sign language?”
Tina shook her head.
“Good. You can answer in sign. I’m not real good at it, but you can spell your answer if I don’t get it.”
Was that relief he saw wash over her face? “You came home last night, didn’t you?”
She nodded.
Curses filled his mind. “I heard her say something about locking you in. Did she?” He knew this girl had caused trouble in the past, but he saw true fear in her eyes right now. “Tell me the truth,” he urged.
Tina’s nod was slower this time, and her nervous gaze kept darting toward the house.
“Where did she lock you in?”
“B-a-s-e-m-e-n-t c-l-o-s-e-t.” Her hands shook as she finger spelled.
Jason saw red and cursed. The only thing that kept him from heading back into the house and giving the woman a taste of her own medicine was the girl cowering in front of him. He reached into his pocket and handed her his phone. “Tina? Take this. Text Dylan that you’re okay.” Then he hit the button on his key fob and unlocked the car. “Get in my car, and I’ll take you over to Lauren. Is there anything important in that house that you or Dylan need right now?”
Tina shook her head and hugged the phone like it was a lifeline. “She ruined it all,” she whispered.
As soon as Tina opened the gate, Rhonda came flying out of the house.
“Get in the car, Tina. Lock the door behind you.” He turned and faced Rhonda. “Stay right there,” he ordered.
The woman froze, her eyes wide, likely not as much from fear as shock. He doubted many people stood up to her. She recovered fast. “Tina, you get in the house.”
“No. You get back in the house, Mrs. Hancock.” Jason stood his ground, his shoulders wide, his arms loose. Ready for anything. He took a step toward her as he heard the car door slam and the locks thunk into place.
“I’m callin’ her caseworker right now.” She tried to sound threatening. But if she was so concerned, why hadn’t she already called the police?
“You do that. If you don’t, I will. I’ll expect a call soon.” He took another step toward her. “Call every official you can think of. I’m sure they’d love to hear where Tina spent last night.”
She stepped back, seeming to realize he was someone to be reckoned wit
h.
“Pack all their things. Carefully, and if anything’s missing or damaged, I’ll hold you personally, legally and financially responsible.” He figured that last bit got her attention. “I’ll send a courier to pick it up.”
His anger grew as scenarios of all the things she’d probably done to Tina flashed in his mind. And maybe Dylan. And how many other kids? He needed to get out of here before he lost control. He stalked over to the driver’s door, and watched the woman scurry into the house. He had to consciously uncurl his fisted hands before climbing in and facing Tina again.
The girl had put on her seat belt, but simply sat there staring at the phone.
“What’s the matter?” Jason started the car and carefully pulled away from the curb, wishing he could floor the accelerator and peel away to expend some of his anger.
“I— She destroyed my phone.” Tina hiccuped a sob that cracked through the last of his anger. “I only know Dylan’s number from my speed dial.”
Poor kid. “He’s with Lauren. Text her. She’s in my contacts.”
The bright, tear-soaked smile that blossomed on her face shot straight through him. Made him feel as if he’d done something good. Her fingers flew over the keys.
His phone dinged a few seconds later indicating a text had come in. “She gave him her phone. He’s glad I’m okay.”
Jason drove out of the neighborhood and breathed a sigh of relief.
“I don’t know how to explain to him,” she whispered.
Jason stopped at the light and faced her. “Don’t text. I’ll bring you to the studio. You can talk then.”
“Okay.”
Then the phone rang and they both jumped. The phone landed with a thud on the floor. It rang again and she reached down to pick it up. After she handed it to him, he saw Wyatt’s number on the screen and groaned. He’d half expected it to be the caseworker. “Hello.”
“Hey, little brother. We’ve landed.”
“Great.” Jason tried to sound enthusiastic. “I’m on my way.” How long would it take them to get their luggage? Did he have time to stop by the studio first? He glanced at the dash clock. Hell no. “Still good for me to pick you up at arrivals?”
