I sat down, staring at the dirty tiled floor. “You said her name was Emily.”
Sitting down, Maggie wrapped one arm around my back and put her other hand on my bicep.
Syd handed me a bottle of water. “I would give you the hard stuff if I had any in the shop.” He snatched Grace’s picture and handed it to me. “That’s the name she gave me. She’s also self-conscious about her birthmark. So I tattooed and blended the mark into a colorful bird.” He grinned as though he were remembering his art.
“Let me guess. A hummingbird?” Grace loved those birds and how they would frequent the flowery trees we had in our backyard.
Syd nodded several times. “I’ve done quite a few of her tats.”
Whoa! “Has Grace been in here recently?” My stomach clenched.
“You mean Emily.” He shook his head. “Not lately.”
I shoved my fingers into my hair, grabbed a bunch, and yanked while I tried to get air in my lungs.
“Dillon, you stiffen when he says Emily.” Maggie’s tone held concern.
I shuddered. “Emily is my mother’s name.” I was stumped as to why Grace would change her name. The only thing I could think of was that she didn’t want to be found, or maybe she just didn’t like the name Grace.
Maggie gaped. “For real?”
I twisted the cap off the water. This one time, maybe a sip of alcohol would have calmed my nerves. Nevertheless, I chugged the warm liquid, which did nothing to soothe the fire in my throat.
Syd raised a finger. “You know, let me check my records to see the last time she was in.” Syd’s big body vanished behind the curtain.
I threw my head in my hands. My pulse bashed in my ears. Boom. Boom. Boom.
Maggie rubbed my back. Her efforts did nothing to douse the raging fire going on inside me.
Grace is alive. Grace is alive. Those three words blared in my head like a tornado siren.
I hurtled upright, grabbed the back of my neck, and walked over to the exit. Cars idled on the street, waiting for the light to turn green. Pedestrians went about their day as though they didn’t have a care in the world. I would’ve given anything not to have lost sleep night after night, wondering if Grace was alive when, lo and behold, she was. I couldn’t process the information. I didn’t know how.
“Six months,” Syd said at my back. “She was in six months ago.”
I clenched my fists. I flared my nostrils. I tensed every muscle in my body.
She was at this tattoo shop six months ago. Six months ago. Six months ago.
I was never one to panic. I was never one to fly off the handle. I was never the person to punch first and ask questions later.
But I was on the verge of becoming someone I wasn’t. I was on the verge of blowing a hole in the glass door with my fists. I was on the verge of losing my fucking mind. I should’ve been thrilled that my baby sister, the one I adored, the little girl who’d trusted me, was alive and had been for all these years.
I had scoured the streets, night after night. I’d practically lived at the morgues. I had put my heart and soul into finding her, and she was alive.
Maggie hovered close to me, but not that close. It was as though she were ready to catch me if I fell.
“If it’s any consolation,” Syd said in a somewhat tender voice, “Emily never appeared hurt or scared. She also didn’t seem like she was running from anyone either.”
The jagged jaws of a vise clamped down on my stomach, tighter than ever.
Duke’s words flashed like a neon sign in my head. “Maybe she doesn’t want to be found.”
Why the fuck not? That was the burning question.
“So you never saw bruises on her?” Maggie asked. “Or any tats that indicated she’s part of a gang? Say the Black Knights.”
I could see Syd’s reflection in the glass, and he shook his head. “No.”
I should have taken comfort that she hadn’t followed in my footsteps and joined a gang. Yet the word gang was becoming synonymous with sex trafficking, and the thought of Grace being involved in that felt as if someone had driven a dagger into my chest.
Crushing Grace’s photo with my left hand, I pivoted on my heel and stifled every ounce of emotion I could. “Do you have any contact info on my sister? Or was she with anyone when she came in?”
Syd pressed his fat fingers on the counter. “I don’t keep addresses and phone numbers on my clients, and she was alone each time she came in. Also no upcoming appointments either if that was your next question.”
I got the feeling Syd was in tune to answering questions like this. After all, Detective Hughes had been in the shop once before to ask questions.
I stretched out my hand to Syd. “Thanks for your help.”
He gave me a pitiful look as we shook. “I hope you find her.” Then he grabbed a pen and paper from the counter. “Give me your name and number, and if she comes in, I’ll give you a call.”
After I scribbled down my info, which was barely legible, I stalked to the door, needing to rid my lungs of the cigar smell drifting around.
Syd cleared his throat. “Wait. I remembered something.”
I gripped the doorknob and swore if he said something like she was in here yesterday, I would destroy everything in the shop.
“I overheard Emily talking on the phone the last time she was here about meeting someone at a bar called the Crow, if that helps.”
I wanted to scream at him not to call her Emily. I didn’t need a reminder of the woman who had left her children with the monster from hell. I did, however, wonder why Grace would use the name Emily. She hardly knew our mother. Grace had been two when our mother had walked out the door without even a goodbye or an “I’ll be back for you kids soon.”
I thanked Syd one last time and got the hell out into the fresh air before my lungs disintegrated into ash. I didn’t even wait for Maggie. I walked up and down the street, stomping my feet into the uneven pavement and shaking my head as if I were a second away from seriously losing my mind.
Maggie leaned against my car, giving me the space I needed to cool down. I was going to need more than a bucket of ice to temper the madness taking hold of me.
After another round of pacing, I stopped near Maggie, bent over, and braced my hands on my thighs. The woman was seeing me lose my shit, but I didn’t care.
I counted to ten slowly, breathing in the scents of the city, which were far better than the stench of cigars. Then I righted myself and focused on Maggie.
Her braid spilled down her chest. Sparkles glimmered around her eyes from the light-green eye shadow she was wearing that highlighted the dark green in her eyes. Her hands were tucked in her pockets, and she didn’t give me any sense that she felt sorry for me.
“Are you ready to head to the Crow?” she asked.
12
Maggie
We drove through the city streets in complete silence. I wanted to give Dillon some space to absorb what we had just learned. Several times, I itched to console him like he had me when we’d found out about the dead redhead. Ted hadn’t returned my call yet, but right now my biggest concern was Dillon. I wasn’t going to leave him in the state of mind he was in.
The traffic was the usual stop and go at red lights and roundabouts. Dillon’s focus was on the road, while a muscle jumped along his jaw. Several times since we’d gotten in the car, I itched to rub his arm or take hold of his hand, but sometimes when I was thinking hard, I didn’t want to be disturbed.
So I did a search on the Internet of the Crow and its location. The club’s website indicated the address was located in an industrial zone of South Boston.
“If you want to check out the Crow, it’s south of here,” I said.
Dillon shook his head, his features still rock-solid with so many emotions.
I couldn’t take it anymore. I grabbed his hand, which was fiddling with the cap of a water bottle.
He quickly jerked his head at me. Then as if some of the darkness was p
ulled from him, he gave me a half smile and squeezed the hell out of my hand. “I’m not ready to go to some bar right now. I need to regroup. I’m afraid I might tear someone’s head off if they so much as tell me they’ve seen Grace recently.”
“So where are we going?” We weren’t headed in the direction of the shelter. Maybe he was taking me to his place. I wondered for a second if he lived at the shelter or had his own apartment. After all, the shelter was a nice home in an okay neighborhood.
He braked at a red light. “Do you need to return to work?”
I checked the time on the dashboard clock. Bruce would be wondering if I’d gotten a scoop on the dead redhead or if I had some meat for a story. But like any other day, I could work until the wee hours of the morning. As long as I had something for a story, Bruce didn’t mind if I returned during normal work hours or not.
“I’m good.” I couldn’t leave Dillon in his state of mind. Well, I could, but I didn’t want to. I’d been as shocked as him when Syd had shared all that information on Grace, or Emily as she was calling herself.
It was clear to me that Grace didn’t want to be found. People changed their names for all kinds of reasons, but the most popular was either entering the witness protection program—which I didn’t think was Grace’s reason since she’d left home at sixteen, never to be seen again—or working as a call girl. My source, Misty, had changed her name. She’d revealed that fact when I asked her. She’d told me that all runaways or girls who didn’t want even their pimps to know who they really were changed their names. I didn’t need to add to Dillon’s turmoil, so I decided not to share that tidbit.
Before long, we were pulling into Paul Revere Park, which was located next to Charlestown. The Zakim Bridge poked out in the distance, while pedestrians strolled along the myriad of paths surrounded by colorful perennials and ornamental grasses.
One of my colleagues had done a piece about the park and had described the area as multi-functional because its oval shape served as an amphitheater and concert stage for performances.
Dillon killed the engine. “Grace, my brothers, and I would come down here as kids. Parts of the park weren’t completely done, and Duke liked to watch the construction. Grace loved the flowers. As for Denim and me, we liked to throw the baseball around. Come on.”
The sun was still high in the sky for late afternoon. Inhaling the scent of fresh-cut grass, I couldn’t help but feel all giddy inside. I was about to stroll through a park on a beautiful and hot summer day with a man who was making me want to give him my heart. I was beginning to think he had captured it when I’d first learned he owned a shelter.
As we wound our way down a path, Dillon’s slipped his hand in mine.
Whoa! My belly was full of wild butterflies.
“You calm me, Maggie,” he said.
I let out a soft chuckle, more out of nerves than anything. “Men have told me lots of things, but nothing like that.”
“So they haven’t told you how beautiful you are?”
We both kept our eyes on the path. I was afraid if I looked at him, I would get down on one knee and ask him to marry me. Okay, that was a little far reaching, considering I didn’t want a serious relationship, or at least I hadn’t until I met Dillon. Maybe marriage wasn’t so far-fetched.
“Thank you,” was all I could say. Only one other man had told me I was beautiful, and that was Lou, my former gang leader, when he was nursing me back to health. Actually, Lou had said I was pretty, even with the scar on my neck. I knew he’d been trying to lift my spirits and instill confidence in me. His compliment had drawn a smile out of me, but I’d had low self-esteem until I learned how to fight. Knowing I could protect myself made me stand up straighter, although I didn’t want anyone to see my scar.
Dillon and I found an empty bench and sat down. He leaned his elbows on his knees. “What would you do if Cory was standing here right now?”
I did a double take. No one had ever asked me that question.
Dillon sat up and faced me. His golden-brown eyes were filled with so many questions.
I shrugged. “At first, I wanted to kill him. For so long, he’s haunted my dreams. You know that Cory gave me the scar. What you might not know is that he raped me.” I couldn’t recall if Dillon knew that part or not, although word about my rape and stabbing had been whispered in gangs after Lou had rescued me. “Anyway, I couldn’t repeat his name. I couldn’t go to the cops. I couldn’t even walk down a dark street anymore. But Lou showed me that I was a strong person. He taught me that as much as I feared something, that fear made me stronger. But after years of thinking about Cory and planning his death, I realized after Lou died that death wasn’t the answer for Cory. He should suffer in jail with no option to ever get out. That and I didn’t want to go to jail for murder. But if he were standing here right now, I would probably beat him until he was close to death but still breathing.”
A crease formed in between Dillon’s eyebrows. “Why didn’t you go to the cops after he raped you?”
“I was scared of Cory retaliating. I was scared of returning to the foster care system. I couldn’t go back to a home that was infested with hate and a drunk foster dad who was like Cory.”
Dillon clenched his fists in his lap as he let out a low growl.
I rested my hand on his. “It’s okay. I’m okay.” It was evident he wanted to bash in some heads. “Why did you ask me about Cory?”
His chest lifted. “Because I’m not sure what I would do if Grace was standing in front of me. I’m mad at her. I’m hurt. I’m so many things right now.”
Shock rifled through me at his admission of how he felt about his sister, although I could see how torn up he’d been at Syd’s over learning that Grace could be alive.
“If that time ever comes, then I’m sure you will handle your reunion with the utmost love you have for her.”
My phone beeped with a text. I didn’t want to be rude and change the subject, but the text could be from Ted. I snatched my phone from the front pocket of my messenger bag. The text was from Bruce. Did you get anywhere on the dead redhead?
I sighed. I should get back to work.
As if he knew what I was thinking, Dillon said, “Let’s go. I know you have to work.”
We started for his car.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “Maybe we can swing by the Crow later?”
“Maybe. Call me when you’re done with work.”
13
Dillon
After Maggie and I got back to the shelter, she took off immediately. She had work to do, and she was itching to talk to Ted since he’d never responded to her text. We still weren’t sure if the girl they’d found dead was Nadine. I prayed it wasn’t.
By the time I walked into the shelter, I’d lost some of my anger, thanks to Maggie. I’d been serious when I told her that she had a way of tranquilizing me. Her hand in mine was like a drug. On the flip side, listening to her tell me about Cory was both maddening and enlightening. In one breath, I wanted to do exactly what she’d said she would do if he’d been in the park with us. Yet she was so sure of herself, and I admired how she knew what she would do. I had no idea how I would react if I saw Grace.
Norma’s laughter filled the room. Then a baritone voice echoed as a man chuckled. At first, I thought Norma had invited her boyfriend over until I sauntered into the kitchen and found Hunter Thompson, or Hunt as he liked to be called, standing at the island with a soda in his hand. I was a tall guy, but Hunt had three inches on me at six foot four, and he was built like a bear.
We exchanged a manly hug. The last time I’d seen Hunt was at Kade and Lacey’s wedding back in June when he was dressed in a tux and holding Kade’s hand as his best man. Now he sported a golf shirt with the Guardian logo embroidered on the sleeve. He wore a holster around the waist of his jeans but didn’t have a gun.
I dropped my keys on the island. “Thanks for coming on board.”
His head dipped, and when it did, a stray b
lond curl fell over the scar he had above his left eyebrow. “It’s a nice change from the crazies I usually protect.”
He had no idea what he was in store for, particularly with men like Norton. But I would fill him in later. Right now, I needed a stiff drink. A laugh broke out in my head. A dormant part of me was my father’s son. I did want to down something so strong, it would take away all the fucked-up emotions raging inside me. That calming effect Maggie had on me was wearing off.
Grace could be alive, and she’d never bothered to contact me.
She may not be able to. Someone may be holding her hostage.
Syd had led me to believe that Grace was happy and healthy and living her life without our father degrading her and swinging his fist at her face.
“You need to sign the contract before Hunt can start.” Norma’s soft voice cut through the hell that was waging a war in my head. When I blinked, she was hurrying out of the kitchen. “I’ll get the documents.”
Hunt straddled the stool. “You don’t look so good.”
I padded over to the fridge and grabbed a bottle of water then slid onto Norma’s warm stool.
“Norma tells me you were chasing a lead on your sister. Is that why you look like someone pistol-whipped you?” Hunt brought the can up to his lips. “Do you need some help? The Guardian is a security firm, but they also have a couple of private investigators on staff.”
I twisted the cap off the bottle. “I hired a PI about a year and a half ago, but he wasn’t successful. Do you know of a bar called the Crow?”
Hunt worked many jobs at the Guardian, and one of them was a bouncer for clubs around the city. The only thing I knew about the Crow was what Maggie had shared in the car, which wasn’t much except that it was in South Boston.
Hunt shifted his brown eyes back and forth, studying me hard before the scar over his left brow crinkled. “It’s a dive bar, or more like a biker hangout. Did someone see her there?”
Hart of Darkness Page 9
