by Skyla Madi
The killer dialed 9-1-1.
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
Mikey
Brayden ran ahead of Mikey up the front porch steps of Cynthia’s colonial. They had already said their goodbyes in the car. She had given Mikey permission to keep Brayden until six o’clock. His son rang the doorbell. Usually his mother greeted him, opened the door just wide enough for Brayden to sneak in, and then slammed the door shut. Cynthia didn’t answer the door. Brayden shifted his weight from foot to foot and rang the bell again. Mikey looked at his son. More and more, Brayden seemed older than his ten years. “Well, shit. Looks like your mom’s not home, kid. What do you think? You wanna stay and wait in the car?”
“I dunno. She should be home.” Brayden shrugged and stared at the locked door. He knocked on the panel. “Mom!”
Mikey banged his fist on the door. They waited for a couple of minutes.
“I don’t think she’s home.” Mikey dialed her number but the call went straight to voicemail. “I think we should go and wait for your mom to call us back.”
“Okay. You’re the parent. I’m the kid, remember?”
Mikey chuckled. “You’re right, I say we go. Maybe you should try calling her first.”
Brayden searched the pockets of his backpack. “Crap, I forgot my phone in my room.”
“It’s all right. Call her again when we get home.”
They listened to satellite radio on the drive back to his house. Brayden had an ear for old country tunes. Mikey had no idea where he’d picked up the love from. Cynthia wasn’t all that interested in music and he preferred hip-hop. Go figure. A Patsy Cline song came on as they pulled in his driveway.
“Oh, I love this song.” Brayden said and turned up the radio. He sang a few bars. Mikey joined his son and turned off the engine.
“Aw, Dad.”
“Sorry, kid. I know I’m a buzzkill.”
Brayden crossed his arms. “Fine. Did Mom text back yet?”
Mikey shook his head. Cynthia usually didn’t flake out on him when it was time for Brayden to go home on Sunday nights. It was fine, though. He didn’t mind having his son for an extra night. They entered the house through the kitchen. Brayden sped past him to the refrigerator. “What are you getting?”
“Thirsty.” He held his mouth under the water container on the top shelf. He opened the spigot and swallowed several gulps of water.
“You know, you could use a glass.”
“Not that thirsty,” Brayden said and wiped his chin on his shirt.
“Go call your mom.”
“You’re both back. Is something wrong?” Grace asked from the kitchen doorway. Brayden rushed past her.
“She wasn’t home.”
“She did know you were coming, right?”
“Yeah.” Mikey scrunched up his face. “I’m a little worried. It’s not like her.” They moved to the dining area next to the living room.
Brayden came back from his bedroom. “She’s not answering her phone.”
“You’re kidding?”
“No. She always answers my calls.” Brayden’s shoulders sagged as he walked to the living room couch and sat down.
Shit.
Grace shut down her laptop at the dining table and wrapped the electrical cord around her large calculator all accountants seemed to use. Her hair had been pinned up on the top of her head. The tank top she wore revealed bare shoulders and accentuated her elegant neck. He wanted to kiss the column of her throat.
“Dad?” Brayden stood next to him. “Jeez, Dad, did Mom text you back yet?”
“Nope.” He smiled at his son, slightly embarrassed at how hard he’d stared at Grace. He checked his phone for the twentieth time since leaving Cynthia’s house. He couldn’t get rid of the feeling that something was wrong.
Grace crossed her arms and grabbed her shoulders then rolled her head around.
“Sorry about this.” Mikey said.
“About what? It’s not your fault. I don’t mind. I’m just stiff from leaning over the computer.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, I told myself a while ago to step away from the computer.” Mikey massaged her shoulders. “Ahhh…that feels good. Thank you.”
“Gross.” Brayden crinkled his nose and returned to the living room couch with his phone up to his ear.
“You wanna watch a movie?”
“Yay! Can we?” Brayden set his phone down and looked over at Grace from the couch.
“Of course,” Grace said. “What movies do you like?” she asked wandering over and sitting on the opposite end of the sofa.
Grace seemed to like Brayden, but kept her distance. His son didn’t seem to notice. Yeah, right, the kid saw everything. “Bray, why don’t you pick what we’re going to watch?”
Brayden’s face lit up. He leaned forward and took the remote off the coffee table. He busied himself reading the on-demand film selections.
Mikey sat next to Grace and tucked her to his side. He put his arm around her. She snuggled closer. “Brayden likes you, you know,” he whispered into her ear.
“And I like him,” she whispered back.
Satisfied she didn’t hesitate, he slumped further down and put his feet up on the coffee table. She rested her head on his chest.
Brayden finally decided to watch Iron Man for the eight hundredth time. An hour and forty-five minutes into the movie his son passed out. Mikey looked at his watch. He still hadn’t heard from Cynthia so he picked up Brayden’s phone. No messages either. He huffed out a breath.
“You still haven’t heard from his mom?” Grace asked.
“Nope. I love having Bray here, but this is strange even for her, not to at least call.”
“Try calling again.”
He sent another text.
Call me when you get this!
“I’m going to put him to bed.” Mikey carried Brayden to his bedroom. Grace surprised him when she followed.
“He’s so cute when he’s asleep,” she said as he shut Brayden’s door.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Uh huh.” She clasped his hand and led him back to the living room. They settled back on the couch into the same position as before.
“Do you want a kid of your own? Have you ever thought about it?”
She pursed her lips. “Hmm…yes, I’ve thought about it. I guess I figure I’d make a lousy parent. I was never one of those teenagers that babysat.”
Mikey laughed. “I never babysat either.”
“Yeah, but that’s different, you’re a guy.”
“So?”
“So, guys I knew didn’t babysit.”
He smiled. “Stereotype much?”
“Shut up. No. It’s totally true.”
“That is not true,” he said. “But kiss me and I’ll let you win the argument.”
She laughed and leaned into a kiss. Her lips parted and he snaked his tongue around hers.
The passion between them quickly built. Mikey pulled at the hem of her shirt. “We should…take this…to the bed…room.” With their lips locked they walked toward his room, passing by the front door.
The doorbell rang. A stab of dread poked his gut.
Shit. Now she shows up?
The bell rang again. “Just a sec!” Without looking out the side window, Mikey opened the door with Grace’s arms wrapped around his waist from behind. “Detective, what are you doing here?”
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
Mikey
When Mikey swung his front door open, Grace looked around him. “Dad?” her breath caught in the back of her throat and she swallowed hard. “What are you doing here?”
“Grace?”
Mikey choked on his saliva. “You two know each other?”
“You could fucking say that,” Harry barked. “Grace, get your things, we’re leaving. Right. Now.” The two officers flanking the detective looked at each other. Mikey saw Hunter’s ugly Buick and a police cruiser parked outside at the curb.
&nbs
p; “What are you talking about? I’m not going anywhere. This is my boyfriend.”
“What’s going on, Hunter?” Mikey kept a protective arm around Grace’s waist. “You’re here for a reason?”
God, what did Cynthia do now?
“Your ex-wife’s dead. Murdered,” Harry snapped.
Mikey’s knees weakened and the blood ran out of his head. “I’m sorry,” he shook his head, “did you say my ex-wife Cynthia’s…dead?”
“You heard correctly.” Hunter’s tone evened out. “Can you account for your whereabouts tonight?”
Grace put herself between Mikey and her father. “He’s been here with me.” Mikey reached a shaky hand out and placed it on her shoulder. She grasped his fingers with both hands.
“Y-yeah. I’ve…I’ve been with my son and Grace all day. I went to take my son home around six o’clock, to…to her house, but Cynthia didn’t answer the door. I thought she wasn’t home. I left a message on her voice mail then we came back to my house.” He swallowed the rising bile in the back of his throat; licked his lips.
The detective glared at the hand Mikey had on her shoulder. “Grace, go get in my car and lock the door, we need to speak to Mikey Hardin alone.”
“No.”
Harry’s face turned red under the porch light. “Grace.”
“What? You can’t tell me what to do. I’m an adult.”
“Yes, I can. I’m your father. And I said let’s go.”
Grace remained where she stood, holding Mikey’s hand. She glowered at her father.
“What do you need to talk to me about?” Mikey asked, keeping the smugness off his face; the whole time he’d been seeing Grace her father had been harassing him.
Ha!
Hunter didn’t respond for a minute, and instead gaped at them. Mikey wondered if the man was thinking the same thing as him.
“Detective?”
“Yeah?” Harry swayed ever so slightly. He covered his mouth with a hand and burped. “Excuse me.”
“You all right?” Mikey asked, one eyebrow rising.
“I’m fine,” the detective said through clenched teeth.
“What happened?” Grace asked.
Harry sighed heavily when he looked at his daughter. “Have you really been with this guy all day?”
“Yeah. We’ve been seeing each and I’ve been staying with him until Cody’s apprehended.”
“Listen, Grace, I don’t want you staying here, all right?” Her father tried to pull her away from Mikey.
“No, Dad, what are you doing? Stop!” She wrenched her arm out of his grasp.
“Hey hey,” Mikey interjected. “I don’t care who you are to her, don’t touch her like that.” Of all the women he could have met, dated, fallen for, he chose the one person Harry Hunter was related to. Surprisingly, the revelation didn’t make him desire her any less. He still wanted to be with her, no matter who her father was.
“You don’t want to mess with me right now,” Harry warned.
Grace threw her hands up. “I’m not staying with you…you’re crazy. Leave. Go.”
“Gracie…”
“Nope. Leave.”
Harry protested and she held up her hand to stop him. “You informed him, he has a solid alibi, and I know what his rights are. So unless you’re going to arrest him, you can leave. If you have more questions, I’m sure he’ll come down tomorrow and talk to you. Goodnight.”
Mikey wasn’t sure she was correct but Hunter grumbled and the three cops left. Grace stood with her hands on her hips in the doorway until the cars pulled away then shut the door. She led him back to the couch. He sat with his face in his palms.
“He probably wants you safe…” His words lost their forward momentum. How was he going to tell Brayden his mother was dead?
Oh God.
He thought about all the people he needed to notify. Would the police tell her mother or did he need to call her? Thoughts rushed through his brain so fast, nothing made sense anymore. Was Cynthia really dead or was he dreaming? He took an unsteady breath. Cold sweat dampened the back of his shirt. This was nuts.
Grace sat down next to him. She rubbed circles on his back.
Mikey reached for his cell phone. His hands trembled as he looked up his ex-mother-in-law’s number. Holding his phone up to his ear required two hands. Marie answered the call on the third ring.
“Hello?” Her voice sounded rushed.
His hands wouldn’t stop shaking. He adjusted the phone several times. “M-Marie…this is Mikey.”
“Oh my God…” Her voice wavered as she sobbed, “Is Brandon all right?”
“Brayden.” He closed his eyes for a moment. “So you heard?”
“Never mind that, is my grandson okay?”
“Yes. He’s with me at my house, still sleeping. I haven’t t-told him yet.” Mikey began to cry for his son’s loss. Tears for Cynthia had long ago dried up.
“I assumed he was with you.”
“I’m so sorry about Cynthia. We didn’t get along, but I would never wish this on anyone.”
“Thank you and I know that. Like you, we hadn’t spoken much lately. Oh God…”
Marie babbled on about how she wished she lived closer and wished she and her daughter had a better relationship. She blamed their estrangement on Cynthia’s lack of a father figure growing up. And oh, how she loved her daughter the best she could but she was never satisfied. The woman’s guilt was palpable through the phone. He’d heard this all before.
“I’ll be flying in to make funeral arrangements tomorrow,” she said.
“Let me know if you need anything.”
“I will. I’ll call you when I get into town. I would like you to help with the arrangements, for Brayden’s sake.”
“All right.” The line went dead before he had a chance to say goodbye. He hoped the woman didn’t think he was going to pay for anything. He was willing to go with her, but that was all.
“She wants me to go with her to make the funeral arrangements,” he told Grace after putting the phone down.
Grace looked doubtful. “She didn’t sound too broken up about her daughter being…”
“Yeah, well, that’s Marie. They weren’t close. Especially in the last few years.”
Mikey placed a call to Brad and Andrea, and they were on their way over.
The doorbell rang fifteen minutes later. Expecting to see his best friends on the other side of the door, he swung it open without checking who was on his front porch. Again, two uniformed cops greeted him.
Shit.
His heart sank further.
“Are you Mr. Hardin?”
“Yes.”
“Yeah, uh, Detective Hunter told us to pick up his daughter. She needed a ride home.” The officer shrugged ever so slightly. Grace snaked around the front of Mikey and she set her chin.
“Oh, no. Officer…Rudy, is it? You can call Detective Hunter and tell him I’m not going anywhere.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “If my Dad wants to see me, he can make an appointment. I’m available Thursday at never o’clock.”
Mikey stifled a chuckle.
“Harry said—”
“I don’t care what Harry said. I’m an adult and I make my own decisions. Good night.”
“Grace maybe you should go with them,” Mikey suggested. The last thing he wanted was a confrontation with the police on his doorstep.
Brayden walked into the room rubbing his eyes. “Dad? What’s going on?” Mikey turned around. “Are you being arrested?”
Mikey glanced at the ceiling and exhaled loudly. “No, Bray.” He reached for his son, holding him tightly.
“The cops were just leaving, sweetie,” Grace said, glowering at the uniformed men. She slammed the door in their faces.
“I’m scared,” Brayden said.
Me too.
Mikey ushered him over to the sofa and knelt in down in front of his son. He squeezed his eye shut. “Bray, there’s something I need to tell you.”
A tear rolled down his cheek. Brayden sat statue-still. “Your mother…” shit, “…your mother passed away tonight.”
Brayden looked confused. “What do you mean?”
“Your mom is gone. I’m sorry.”
Mikey wanted to scream.
“You mean s-she’s dead?” His bottom lip quivered and his chin wrinkled.
Mikey’s phone rang and he ignored it.
“Yeah…I’m so sorry Brayden.”
His son scooted forward on the couch and grabbed him around the neck. Mikey looked over to see his girlfriend crying too. No one had heard the front door open. Brad and Andrea held hands under the archway that led into the living room off the front hallway. Grace greeted each of them with a hug.
“How did she die?” Brayden asked.
Mikey realized now that he hadn’t asked Hunter any specific questions. He only told him she’d been murdered. “Not sure, buddy. But I don’t think she suffered.” A pang of guilt hit him in the chest. There was no way he thought this was the truth.
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
Grace
After hours of crying, Brayden finally exhausted himself enough to fall asleep. He lay on the couch and Grace watched his little chest rise and fall with each breath. Tear tracks lined his cheeks and looking at him made her eyes shiny. Mikey covered Brayden’s legs with a throw blanket. She didn’t think anything could wake Brayden now.
Grace settled into the oversized chair across from the couch. Brad and Andrea sat at the dining table engaged in a whispered conversation with one another. Mikey sat on the sofa at his son’s feet.
“Are you all right?” Grace asked. “Do you need anything?”
“No,” he said quietly.
“So, um, my father is—”
“It’s okay, Grace. I don’t care. It doesn’t matter.”
Thank God.
Her dad could be so pushy when it came to her, although his reaction this time was a little odd even for him. Even stranger, how did Mikey know her father’s name? And if they knew each other, why hadn’t her boyfriend mentioned anything?
“How do you know my dad?”
