Vonnie: Book Two of Broken Girls Series

by J. A. Hornbuckle

  I looked to one of the mustard-colored walls of the interview room as my mind raced. Were they blaming my quasi, not-yet-defined connection with Rio on my attack? “What do you mean?”

  God, I’d asked the same question twice. Was that some sort of signal, something they could string or piece together to refute what had happened to me?

  “You met him about a week ago, now he’s living at your condo and you’re involved with his dog. Do you really need me to spell it out, Miss James?”

  I looked to the mirror in the room and wondered who was on the other side. Who had they chosen to witness my confession?

  But I stayed dead-center on the avenue of truth as I knew it. “Rio Ironcloud has been nothing but my protector since my condo was broken into. Whatever relationship we have between us has nothing to do with the investigation of either incident.”

  “Yet you haven’t told me how you feel about him,” was the growled, firm summation, one coerced by the badge at the man’s hip.

  I opened my mouth, my lips almost frozen with the knowledge every word I spoke would be parsed, examined when I would’ve preferred them to remain a whole and full concept instead of a sound byte. “We’ve been getting closer.”

  “And do you like that relationship, Miss James? Is it good for you? Feel comfortable?”

  Jay-sus. How to answer in order not to give my insecurities away regarding all the stuff between me and Rio. In my discomfort at the detective’s questions, I decided to turn the tables. “My relationship with Ironcloud is not your concern. What should be on the table is the fact my home was invaded and I was robbed. Then I was accosted. I don’t know why and hoped you’d have answers for me instead of putting me through the ringer when I’m supposed to be the victim in the whole of those scenarios.”

  I tapped the one hand on the scarred table between us, allowing him to see the attitude I was sporting. “Therefore, what is Grantham PD doing to ensure I’m not at risk going forward?”

  The detective, who was only a few years older than me blinked at my unwarranted attack. “I’m sorry?”

  “And you should be,” I shot right the hell back. “Between my two recent ordeals, what are you and your department doing to ensure my safety?”

  The door opened and a tall, attractive, darker-skinned man entered when the detective was still opening and closing his mouth as if searching for a reply. “Sorry for the delay, Miss James. I’m Ram Patel, Chief of Police here in Grantham.”

  My gaze took in his very attractive face, his height and attitude which more than told me this man was a true alpha-dog. And for some reason, reminded me of Rio. “Nice to meet cha, chief. But I’m having a bit of trouble trying to understand why I’m being treated as a suspect, getting grilled about my personal life when all I wanted was to file a report and get this latest attack on record.”

  “Things on your case are complicated,” Patel stated firmly, his eyes never leaving me. “And because they are, I want Bell here to interview both you and your brother at the same time. If that’s okay with you.”

  My brother? Oh yeah, Zion-of-the-scarred-face.

  Thoughts churning, I slowly nodded admitting to myself I really didn’t have a say in the matter. But me, being me, added my own stipulation. “I want Rio there as well.”

  And as Chief Patel gave his consent, I felt like I’d won some kind of hard-driven engagement.

  I gotta say the feeling of winning was sweet.

  Even if I didn’t quite understand the battle I was waging.

  *.*.*.*.*

  His girl shoved Aunt Alma’s dog at him before she’d been led away down the long hallway, a thing which made Rio twitch. They were there at the police station to make a simple report, to tell of the doings that (according to Lance) were almost nothing, since Vonnie hadn’t been hurt in the altercation.

  But then again, the way his Vonnie clung to him let Rio know whatever had gone down affected her deeply. To the point the girl he was getting to know and care about was freaked right the frick out.

  “Rio, man,” Lance started, dropping his ass onto the slats of the bench seat next to where Rio took a load off. “I was following, you know, like you said. Staying back so she couldn’t make me. Watching how she worked a crowd. Kept her in my sights. But she got away from me.”

  Rio inhaled and clutched PK closer, unable to let the words bubbling up within him to come out through his mouth. Because they weren’t any of the pretty or encouraging kind in the least—and might even include the words ‘you’re fired’.

  Lance had a job to do.

  Just one job. And he’d blown it.

  Blown it to the point someone else, a stranger, was the first on scene.

  Then there was the firing of his weapon.

  “You give your report to the cops?” Rio was so angry his voice was a rusty, terse growl.

  Lance nodded. “Had to turn over my handgun, though.”

  “Fine. Get your ass back to the office. I’ll let Max know you’re on your way.”

  Lance stood and shifted his weight from foot to foot, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I fucked up, I know. And I’m sorry as hell about it. But this shouldn’t mean I lose my job.”

  “Not my call,” Rio muttered. “I’ll let you and Max work that shit out. But for the time being you’re on my shit list, understand?”

  There were a few beats of uncomfortable silence, ones where Rio kept his eyes firmly trained on anything but Lance. He was hanging on to his rage by a thread and just the sight of the man might break that tenuous leash.

  “Yeah, Rio,” Lance replied before turning and heading for the doors.

  After he left, Rio took several deep breaths and did some shoulder rotations in an attempt to gain a measure of calm. She’d need him to be after what she’d been through and reliving the incident again in retelling it to the cops. “But we’ll make it right, won’t we, girl,” he told the tiny bit of fluff in his arms.

  “Mr. Ironcloud?” Margulies voice seemed too loud in the almost empty space. “They want to see you in interview room one. It’s the first door on the left down that hall.”

  Rio was confused. Why would they need to interview him? He hadn’t even been there, for god’s sake. Although if he had…

  Holding PK in one arm, Rio knocked twice before pressing into the designated room already filled with people. There was Chief Patel (who he’d been introduced to a couple of days before when Patel met with Max at BI), a couple of guys in suits (who he figured were the chief’s men) along with the stranger who’d gotten to Vonnie first.

  And his girl.

  Nodding to the others, Rio made a beeline to Vonnie who immediately reached for the dog.

  “What’s going on?” Rio asked Vonnie, taking in her pale face and wide eyes as he sat in the empty chair next to her. When she didn’t answer, his eyes swept over the others including them in his question.

  Patel was the one who finally answered. “When I took this job, I made a commitment not only to oversee the protection and safety of the people of Grantham, but to clear all the old, unsolved cases that’d fallen off everyone’s radar. And at the top of the pile, the number one we’re determined to clear is regarding the murder of your parents.”

  Vonnie’s free hand reached and clutched at Rio’s thigh and he turned to look at her. But she was staring at the guy with the scar.

  “Since we finally have both Zion and Veronica James together, I’m hoping you two can help shed light on the information we have and assist in adding to it.” Rio was confused by Patel’s speech, but his brain was putting two and two together pretty frickin’ quick.

  And he knew he was right when the man named as Zion looked to Rio’s woman, his eyes softening in a way that spoke of love, caring and a familial connection.

  One that pissed Rio right the fuck off since the dude hadn’t stuck around and seen to Vonnie’s safety. But he’d answer for it, oh hell, yeah, he would.

  The man was gonna explain what’d kept him
away for so many years.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  What Chief Patel said scared me, terrified me but I couldn’t determine why. All I knew was that him announcing my parents were murdered made my heart thrum in my chest and stole my breath away. Because of all the scenarios I could imagine that’d found me in foster care (and there were a lot), I’d never considered that particular one before.

  “They’re bringing up the file box now,” the chief continued. “But while we’re waiting, why don’t you tell me what you remember of that night and anything afterward?”

  I looked to Zion before glancing at Rio, only then realizing my hand was gripping his leg under the table. Relaxing my fingers brought his gaze to mine and just being the center of his attention slowed my heartbeat and calmed me in an indefinable away.

  “I don’t know if Ronnie has any memories of what happened,” Zion stated flatly, looking to the hands he was twisting on the conference table. “She was just a little girl.”

  “Vonnie,” Rio corrected on a deep note. “She calls herself Vonnie now.”

  Zion nodded but didn’t look at me. “I’ll go through it, but I don’t know how much is actual memory or how much I’ve imagined as I’ve tried to piece things together. I mean, I was only ten when it went down.”

  “I get it,” Detective Bell murmured, his voice relaxed, encouraging even which seemed to help ease the tension in the room. “But we still want your take on what happened.”

  Zion cleared his throat and blinked hard although his eyes never left his hands. “We moved to Grantham from Tennessee when I was six because Dad couldn’t find a job after getting injured in Iraq.”

  “Your dad was in the military then?” It was the other detective who broke in to my brother’s recitation. The one who I think introduced himself as Trusdale. “Do you know what branch?”

  “Marine? Though I can’t be sure because I was too little and he didn’t talk about it much after he was out.” I saw a sheen of sweat on Zion’s forehead and upper lip even though I found the room chilly. “I just know one of his legs didn’t work right and gave him a lot of pain.

  “But the job situation wasn’t any better in Grantham than it was in Tennessee. Then some guy came to the house and talked to both my mom and dad. I was sent to watch TV while they all sat around the dining room table. But I kept an ear out, listening ‘cause I didn’t like the guy. Didn’t like his smarmy smile or the way he ruffled my hair. And especially didn’t like how excited my parents got when he offered them a job providing ‘Respite Care’.”

  “What the hell does Respite Care mean?” Detective Bell looked to his chief then to Trusdale.

  “I think it was something Colorado’s CPS system tried to use for kids with the orphan classification, but it never caught on,” Patel offered. “Go on.”

  Zion again cleared his throat and shifted in his chair. “I guess the money was good because they immediately agreed and my dad stopped looking for another job. Then my mom fixed up a couple of rooms and the kids started arriving, although my parents made sure Ron…erm, I mean, Vonnie and I were kept away from them.” He swallowed thickly. “The kids never stayed long. Maybe a day or two at the most.”

  There was a knock on the door and a female officer came in carrying a banker’s box, setting it at the end of the table close to Chief Patel. He nodded her way before reaching to take the lid off and reaching to pull out file after file.

  I glanced to Rio and saw his eyes were as wide as mine felt.

  “I should mention, when we first arrived my mom was very pregnant which put both a financial as well an emotion strain on them. And I think that’s why they chose a home birth for her.” Zion’s head nodded my way. “One day Dad drove me to the Gianetta’s house, a friend of a friend, he’d said. When I came back, she was there and I was told I had a little sister. One who they said I was supposed to love and protect with my life.”

  “Jay-sus,” Trusdale breathed. “Lotta responsibility for a ten year old.”

  The room went quiet as each of us considered those circumstances and came up with no good conclusions. I couldn’t help myself or my craving to know more. “Then what happened?”

  Zion shrugged. “Things went on for a couple of years. You got bigger as more and more kids were shuffled in and out for two or three days at a time. We got new stuff which meant money was coming in steady. All I know was Mom and Dad were a lot more relaxed, hopeful even, and were talking of moving back ‘home’.”

  He shook his head and took his hands off the table, leaving a sweaty imprint of where they’d previously resided. “Then things changed. Mom didn’t want me or my sister around when the kids were brought in or taken away. Made us hide up in the attic no matter what time of day or night the switches were made. Told us to be quiet and got mad if I couldn’t keep Ronnie occupied during those times. Then there was the way they were always using their new video camera, pointing it out at the road, at the driveway whenever we were shuffled up the steep staircase to the dusty attic. Sharing strange, tense looks each time a car rolled in.”

  Zion finally looked up at Patel, but every line in his body and even his expression spoke of the torture of his thoughts, his memories. “The last time was the worst and I don’t think I’m exaggerating when I tell you my parents were fucking scared to death when Anton and the man my dad called Del arrived. All because no kids were forced out of their car like before. Which I thought meant the men were there just to pick the other ones up. But I think they knew. I think my parents knew what was going to happen.”

  He swallowed and I swallowed right along with him.

  “Whenever we were sent to the attic, Mr. Buttons had to come with us. It was the only toy my sister wanted above all others, the one guaranteed to keep her calm and happy. But that night, my dad looped my mom’s locket over her head too. ‘She’s yours to protect, Zee,’ he told me as my mom stood hidden by the drapes of the dining room, video-taping the car and the men who spilled out of it.”

  He sighed and rubbed a hand over his eyes, filled with the tears I could sense in his voice. “I heard my mother scream before it was drowned out by a series of shots. Then all went quiet except for the sound of a car pulling out. I waited a while… a long, long while before I left our hiding spot in the attic.”

  There was the sound of someone trying to take in a lungful of air, interrupted by hitches and I realized it was mine. I’d gotten so lost in Zion’s tale I didn’t know when I’d buried my face in Rio’s chest, both his arms squeezing me tightly. Even Pookie hadn’t protested our position (which must’ve been uncomfortable), but she never even squiggled to complain about being squished between us.

  Lifting my head, I found my brother staring at me with haunted eyes. Eyes the same shape and color as mine. While I still wasn’t convinced he was who he said he was, there was no denying we were related.

  “When I crept downstairs, I tucked Ron…erm, Vonnie’s face into my neck and held it there so she couldn’t see what’d happened.” His voice was a reedy thin noise in the funeral quiet room, his gaze unfocused. “It took us forever to walk down the hill and into Grantham proper.”

  The three cops exchanged a long look before Patel nodded at his two detectives. The one sitting in front of the laptop, Bell, nodded and glanced at Zion. “You said the men’s names were Anton and Dell. Do you know if those were their first names or last?”

  Zion blinked and was quiet for a minute. “I don’t know. I wasn’t formally introduced to them, but those were the names I heard my parents use.”

  Bell started typing and Trusdale leaned his elbows on the table. “Can you describe the car they drove?”

  “Blue,” Zion said firmly. “Small sedan. Foreign, I think.”

  “What about the kids? Did you ever talk or play with them? Get their names?”

  Zion shook his head and looked down at the table again. “No, sir. My folks were careful to keep us away from the others. Sometimes, especially there toward the end when we
hid in the attic, we didn’t even see them.” He took a deep breath and continued. “But from what I saw and have since figured out, I don’t think the kids who came to our house were in the CPS system.”

  All the policemen in the room stilled and raised their eyebrows.

  “You don’t?” Patel asked. “Why’s that?”

  Zion looked up at the chief. “Because I was a foster kid and most of ‘em at least arrive with a backpack or a suitcase—sometimes both if their lucky. And they’re usually clean with their hair brushed and stuff. But all the ones who came to our place turned up with nothing but the clothes on their back and were pretty damn dirty. Mom would clean ‘em up and feed ‘em, saying at least they left better than they came in.”

  Detective Bell was still typing as Zion talked, but paused at the CPS reference. “There are Grantham CPS records for Miss James beginning in 1993, but I can’t find anything on you.”

  “That’s because I went to Cortez.” I found myself frowning at Zion’s admission and one glance around the room showed I wasn’t the only one.

  “Why would you do that?” I didn’t realize I had spoken until Zion’s agate colored eyes met my own.

  “To keep you safe,” he murmured back softly. He turned back to the detectives. “After I left Ronnie at the fire station, I didn’t know what to do or where to go. Ended up at the Gianetta’s telling them my parents had gone out of town and the babysitter quit after one day. They bought my story and told me I could stick around until my parents came back.”

  He stopped and shook his head. “I hated lying to them, but I didn’t know what else to do. Then one day after school, a day when Reggie had little league practice, that Anton guy saw me on the street. Followed me and managed to corner me in an alley. Told me if I ever told anyone, ever got the cops involved about happened at my parent’s house, he’d kill me. Then he’d kill my sister and the Gianettas for good measure.”

  “And you believed him?” Trusdale’s question felt out of place, because what ten-year-old wouldn’t believe the adult who murdered his parents and then threatened to kill him?