Wood U (Carved Hearts #4)

by L. G. Pace III

  “Huh?” he asked, clueless.

  “I saw you on TV.” I sniffed, but I took a deep breath, refusing to fall apart. Mac needed me, not to have to comfort me. I had to keep it together.

  “I’m fine, babe. I was just hoping for better news. The FBI says we’re running out of time. If we don’t find them within the next day…” He trailed off, and I was relieved. I couldn’t bear for him to finish the thought. “I’m just tired, Kelly. And I…I wanted to hurt something.”

  “You need a nap and something to eat,” I urged him. “How’s Joe holding up?”

  “There’s no easing his mind, but Tamryn got him to go inside to lie down on the couch. I feel like we’re in hell right now. All I can do is stand by and watch.” I could hear the pain and frustration in his voice, and I could relate to his feelings of helplessness all too well.

  An angle popped into my mind, and I jumped on the idea right away. “None of you will do Molly any good if you keep this stuff up. She’d have a fit if she could see you all.”

  There was a pause on the other end, and I worried for a second that I had misstepped. Then Mac let out a chuckle that sounded almost genuine.

  “You all? I wish I had you on speaker. Mason could use a laugh. He enjoys watching you handle me.” I relaxed at the teasing note in his voice. He was hurting—that much was obvious—but he wasn’t as far gone as I’d feared.

  After I got him to promise to take a nap and not to punch anything or anyone again, I hung up. I whipped up a quick dinner for Junior, and wondered if I should take some real food over to Joe’s. I dismissed the idea immediately. I couldn’t take Junior anywhere near that scene. I only hoped it would be resolved by Monday morning. There was no way I could protect him from this circus at school.

  By the time I got him into bed, I was ready to crash. I changed into one of Mac’s t-shirts and a pair of his boxer shorts and crawled beneath the covers. My phone beeped, and I saw I had a message from Mac.

  Mac: Miss you.

  Me: Are you taking care of yourself?

  Mac: I had a nap in the recliner and ate a sandwich.

  Me: I’m glad to hear it. How’s Joe?

  Mac: He went somewhere with his dad. Some reporter brought up his dead wife and son and accused him of being involved. Mason nearly took the guy’s head off. Robin made him go home. She doesn’t trust him around the press.

  Furious, I wanted to go hunt down the irresponsible asshole who’d hounded Joe. I bit back my anger, knowing I had to be the level-headed one.

  Me: Just remember that you have a little boy here waiting for you. You can’t go to jail either.

  I must have fallen asleep the second my head hit the pillow, because I forgot to plug my phone into the charger and woke up sometime later with the screen of it pressed against my face. It was 2:00 A.M. I yawned and looked around wearily, trying to figure out where I was. Then I heard footsteps in the hall, and my heart fluttered.

  “Junior?” I called, and when I opened the bedroom door, I saw someone in M.J.’s room leaning over him. “What the hell?”

  The figure whipped around, and I saw that it was Patty. She nearly stumbled onto the bed, and she seemed to be struggling to focus her eyes on me.

  “Where’s Mac?” Her words were slurred, and her gait was uneven as she advanced in my direction. She was wearing boots with two inch heels, and I was barefoot. Still half-asleep, I took an involuntary step back. She had a good four inches on me without the boots, and with them, I was a bit intimidated.

  I heard M.J. stir in the bed.

  “Shhh…” I urged her, beckoning for her to join me in the hall. To my surprise, she followed.

  “Mac’s at Joe’s. Have you heard about Molly?” I asked.

  “Of course I have,” she said indignantly. “Why do you think I’m here? I want Junior home with me. He doesn’t need to be a part of all this bullshit.”

  “He doesn’t know anything.” I folded my arms across my chest, feeling exposed without a bra, make-up, or shoes. “How did you get in here? I know I locked the deadbolt.”

  “Key…Mac gave me one a long time ago. So I wouldn’t have to wait for him to get home to get in the house.” The stench of alcohol hit me almost like a physical blow. It was the sour, acrid smell I associated with a dive bar. Scrutinizing Patty by the light of the hallway, it was painfully obvious that she was hammered. “I was in the picture a long time before you, honey. And I’ll be around a long time after he’s forgotten about you.”

  The sneering way that she said it would have been more hurtful if it hadn’t been quite so pathetic. It was the haunted look in her eyes that gave it away. She had the look of a desperate animal, like something you might see chew its own arm off to get out of a trap. When I didn’t react, she turned to go back into MJ’s room.

  “He’s asleep,” I said it quietly, but the steel in my voice stopped her mid-step. She turned to me with a look of shock that quickly twisted to anger.

  “So what, bitch? I came here to get my fucking kid. He needs to be with his mother, not some slut who his father is shacking up with at the moment.”

  “What he needs is sleep. Why don’t you get a cab and you can talk to Mac in the morning?” I motioned toward the front door, but her glazed eyes never moved off of me.

  “You think you have any rights here? You’re just Daddy’s whore. That doesn’t give you the right to say anything about what my son does or doesn’t do.” Her voice was rising, so what I did next I did without thinking.

  Grabbing Patricia by the arm, I moved her bodily to the front door, kicking the hallway door shut behind us. It might not keep MJ from waking up if she got out of hand, but at least it might muffle what was coming. Ripping her arm out of my grip, she wheeled on me. Before she could speak, I cut her off.

  “Shut your mouth.” Her jaw snapped together with an audible clack. “Now you listen to me, Patricia and listen well. That boy is not going anywhere with you. You’re drunk, and in my opinion, a danger to yourself and everyone around you.”

  She seemed to snap out of her stupor and raised her hand, as if to strike me.

  “You honestly think you can keep me from taking my boy? I will kick your ass!”

  “Please.” I glared at her. “I could take you blindfolded, you drunken cow.”

  She looked at me for a second, as if trying to decide if I was serious or not. In that instant, there was not a doubt in my mind that if she swung at me, I was going to drop her. Of the many exercise classes I had taken over the years, one of them had been kickboxing. I almost wished she’d test me, so I could roundhouse kick her in the face. Patty’s hand slowly sank down to her side, and fear flashed across her face for an instant before a smugness replaced it.

  “How about I call the cops? You think they’re going to take kindly to you keeping me from my child? Sounds a bit like kidnapping to me. You know, people are a little sensitive to that subject right now, when it comes to my family.” Rage blossomed in my chest at her casual use of Molly and Joe’s tragedy for her own ends.

  “Let’s call them,” I chirped. Her eyes snapped up to mine.

  “What?” She blinked stupidly.

  “By all means, let’s call the police. First of all, they’ll want to know how you got here. Don’t tell me you drove? Or that you were actually considering taking a child out in your inebriated state? Five seconds after they get here, you’ll be in cuffs. You really don’t want to push me, Patty. As it stands, I’m a mandatory reporter, and I have serious reservations about your parenting.”

  The fear on her face had blossomed into full-blown horror. “You can’t do this! You can’t keep me from my boy!”

  “What kind of mother is more concerned about claiming her child as property, than his safety?” The anger I’d been holding in check began to work its way free. Before I could lose my temper, I wrenched the door open. “Give me the key to this house before I do something we might both regret.”

  I thought she might fight me, or at least
refuse. Then she thrust her hand into her pocket and threw the key at me. I let it fly by, and the metallic ring as it hit the wall let me know the general area where it had fallen. I didn’t take my eyes off Patricia until she was standing outside the door.

  “Oh you’ll regret this, bitch. You mark my words, you’re going to regret this.”

  I resisted the temptation to slam the door in her face.

  “For God’s sake, quit acting like a two-year-old. The last thing this family needs right now is more drama. Get a cab, and go home. If you ever try to pull shit like this again, I will not only report you, I will make sure that CPS is permanently parked outside your house.”

  The last image I had of Patricia was her flipping me off as I quietly shut the door and locked it.

  When Sunday night came and Mac still wasn’t home, I had to make a decision. Call in sick and keep Junior home, or tell him what was going on and deal with the fallout. It had been forty-eight hours now, and though I hadn’t talked to anyone in the family, I could feel the rough sand slipping through the hourglass just the same. This story wasn’t going to have a happy ending, and I needed to figure out how to prep M.J. for the next chapter.

  Junior was running his bath water, and I was wiping off the kitchen counter when I heard the front door open. I hurried in that direction, ready for round two with Patty, when I saw Mac standing before me. He wore the same clothes he’d left in, and his beard already looked overgrown. His pale eyes were sunken and hollow. He appeared drained, as if he might collapse at any moment. I dropped my washcloth and closing the space between us, I buried my face in his chest. His arm came around me slowly.

  “Sugar.” His voice rumbled against my cheek. He tipped my chin up so I’d meet his eyes. His were red rimmed, and he looked like he’d been awake for a year. “I’m just here for a shower and to grab some clothes.”

  I wasn’t prepared for his matter-of-fact dismissal. I wanted to pout, but I wouldn’t succumb to the urge. Instead, I pulled away from him, folded my arms, and straightened my spine. I had no intention of being the needy chick, but I was determined to advocate for Junior. “M.J.’s in the bathtub. You need to see him, and you need to tell him something about what’s going on.”

  His eyes shot to mine. “You haven’t told him?”

  “I didn’t know what to tell him, Mac.” I blinked at him in surprise, but I could feel the heat rising in my cheeks. He was right. I should have thought of something to say by now. I was the grown-up here.

  “Neither do I, Sugar.” He rubbed his face with both hands and gave a frustrated groan. “What do you even say about something like this?’

  His hands dropped to his hips, and he looked at the floor. I could see he was not up to the task, and I was far too afraid to do it for him. I reached out and put my hand gently on his arm. “Let’s take our chances and wait. Let him get another good night’s sleep.”

  His expression of gratitude was so dramatic that it made me want to cry.

  He went in and talked to M.J. for a while and even tucked him in before jumping in the shower. Unable to stop myself, I shed my clothes to join him, but found the bathroom door locked. Though I had no reason to, I saw the locked door as a metaphor. Wounded, I dressed hurriedly and climbed into his bed.

  Mac came out into the bedroom a short time later and sat down to put his shoes on. I ached for him to touch me, to look at me, to say something…anything. I was watching him, willing him to lie down beside me, when he turned in my direction. His gaze landed on mine, and I saw the storm behind his eyes.

  “Stay,” I urged, trying not to sound desperate. He sighed, and for a minute I thought he was going to refuse. Kicking off his shoes, he rested back on the bed, pulling me into the crook of his arm.

  “I’ll stay until you fall asleep,” he murmured, as if I was the one whose world was crumbling into nothing.

  The next day, the thought of taking Junior into school horrified me. I called Principle Higgins and explained my dilemma.

  “I completely understand,” Principle Higgins said. “I just wanted to warn you. Based on what I’m hearing on the news, I suspect that someone at this school has been speaking to the media. After Mac’s display yesterday, he’s on the paparazzi’s radar. I suspect it’s only a matter of time before the media descends on us and on you for that matter.”

  I looked out of the window and saw the street was still clear. The thought of having to run a gauntlet of news people with M.J. made my stomach turn; but we needed groceries, and it sounded like I needed to get them quickly.

  “What makes you think that it’s someone from the school talking to the press?” I asked.

  “Certain phrases the reporters keep using, as well as details that are not common knowledge. I have my suspicions about who the leak is, but I have to wait until I have proof before I can do anything about it.”

  I cringed as I imagined the press going over Mac’s life in detail…my life in detail. Taking a deep breath, I tried to maintain my calm.

  “Can you find a sub to cover for me? Just for a couple of days?”

  “Consider it done, Kelly,” Principle Higgins responded. “Take the time you need. I’ll have Jane drop off Junior’s work for the week, just keep me in the loop.”

  I thanked her and hung up the phone. I immediately packed up M.J. and headed to the store. I wanted to make sure that if we were suddenly besieged by the media, we would have the supplies to hold out. M.J. didn’t ask too many questions when I didn’t take him to school, and he was overjoyed to be able to help choose meals for the week. I distracted him with talking about different recipes. Inevitably, our conversation about cooking led to him mentioning Molly, and it nearly broke my heart to think of what this little boy might have to hear about his beloved aunt.

  An hour after we’d arrived home and unloaded the car, the first media van showed up on the street. I texted Mac to let him know, and he called me a few minutes later.

  “Are you okay, Sugar? I can come home if you need me,” he said.

  Though I ached to take him up on his offer, I knew he needed to be with his family.

  “No, I made a run for supplies before the vultures arrived,” I joked. “MJ and I are going to do some cooking and watch some movies.” He was silent on the other end of the phone for so long that I pulled my cell away from my face to look at the screen and make sure we were still connected.

  “Thanks, Kelly. Call me right away if any of those slimebags gives you any trouble. Mason and I will come running. He has a ‘special’ relationship with the media.”

  I chuckled and assured him I would before hanging up.

  It began to rain steadily as more news vehicles pulled up out front. I debated about driving to my apartment, but after calling my father he said Good Wood was dealing with media surveillance twenty-four/seven. I couldn’t even open the front door of Mac’s house to get the mail without someone screaming at me.

  “Hey! Miss Palmer. Excuse me. Ma’am! Can we get you to give a statement?”

  “Who’s that, Kelly?” Junior asked, as I returned with the mail.

  “Nobody, hon.” I glared over my shoulder and heard the camera shutters whirring.

  I’d heard nothing from anyone, and as I tucked Junior into bed, I shoved aside feelings of neglect.

  “I don’t like storms. Thunder’s scary,” MJ said in a trembling voice.

  “It’s okay. Thunder’s loud, but it’s harmless. Your dad made sure this house is as safe and secure as they come.” I smiled, pushing the thoughts of his mother’s home invasion from my mind. I stuffed the blanket around him like Mac had. “Snug as a bug.”

  “…in a rug inside a hairy toaster!” Junior finished with a yawn.

  I considered texting Mac, but quickly decided against it. My rational mind bucked against the idea, but my gut told me he was drifting away from me, and it might not be a temporary scenario. Angry with my own petulance, I reminded myself that real tragedy was going on all around us. I told myself to
quit being a baby and toughen up.

  I turned on the television, both hopeful and dreading what I might see. The news station I liked the best was already in the middle of its broadcast, with no earthshaking revelations. I flipped though channels before finding an old movie I’d always loved. As I drifted off on the couch, I wished for a feel-good eighties montage to return our lives back to the way they’d been just a few short days before.

  LIFE IS ABOUT dealing with the shit that gets thrown at you. Even though I’ve taken my share of nut shots, I’d always managed to keep my feet under me. It never occurred to me that I would be faced with something I couldn’t handle. Then that greasy, evil psycho came out of the past and ripped a hole in my life.

  Chaos has a way of helping you sort through the bullshit out of your life. After Molly and Logan went missing, I spent hours on my bike searching for them. Being on the road, dealing with the fact that I might never see my little sister again, I started to consider things in a different way. I’d spent so much of my adult life being afraid. I never admitted it to anyone, but I’d always worried that something would happen and that I’d lose M.J. to Patty.

  This cowardly thinking was a large part of why I put up with so much shit from his drunkard mother. As long as she kept her life straight in regards to the boy, I was happy to let the rest of it slide. While I was pointlessly scanning the countryside for Molly and the boy, somewhere near the outskirts of Waco, I had a horrible thought.

  What kind of life am I giving M.J. if I let his mother keep on like this?

  That thought haunted me as I helplessly waited for the worst. I’d overheard the cops talking when I was out smoking. Half of them thought Molly went with Draven voluntarily. Fucking idiots. The other half figured she and Logan were already dead and buried in the country somewhere. As the hours ticked past, I desperately tried to take my mind off the images those gossiping assholes had left me with by running interference for Joe.