by Mimi Barbour
“Let’s go inside and you stay behind me, you hear?”
“But… like, what’s wrong?” Angie clutched at her arm, stopping their forward momentum.
Charli’s harsh tone belied her comforting words. “Just do as I say, right? We just have to get through these next few minutes, and I need you to be brave. I’ve no doubt of the outcome, but in case things go to hell, you run back to the car, lock yourselves in and get Kayla to call 9-1-1. Got it?”
Totally bewildered, Angie nodded. The frightened look on her face showed that she’d picked up on Charli’s seriousness but didn’t know what brought about the change.
“Did I do something?”
“Shit, no.” Charli reached out to touch the flinching girl’s face. A gentle caress on the cheek was all she attempted and all she was allowed. “Okay, let’s get this over with.”
Charli took Angie’s key from her hand and used it to open the door, then she walked into the house. The first thing she saw was a braless woman lying on the sofa, her grubby T-shirt barely covering her nakedness and her dirty white shorts missing a button. Straggly, unwashed hair and sores on her face, the woman’s one eye drooped while the other gave an impression there was no one home.
“Angie? Honey? Is that you? Could you make me some toast? I haven’t eaten anything since yesterday. Girl, are you listening?”
Charli waved Angie back and spoke up, “Mrs. Taylor? Angie’s leaving. She’ll be moving in with me for a while. Here’s my card, the address is on the back. If you have any problems with this arrangement, call Major Blake Sebastian of the FLPD. He’ll deal with any questions you have.”
Charli gave Angie a tiny shove. “Go to your room and gather everything you need. I’ll wait, honey. Don’t worry. Go now.”
Charli saw the tears explode out of the worried, enlarged eyes of the youngster. “Hank won’t like it.”
Mrs. Taylor piped up, her hysteria obvious. “You can’t do this. She’s my baby. My husband will stop you, see if he don’t.”
“I’d like to speak to your husband. Where is he?”
“No, Charli, don’t. He’ll hurt you.”
“Like he hurts you? Not anymore. Never again. Go and do as I told you.” She gently pushed the girl toward the stairs.
It was hard talking over the screeching racket erupting from the beauty queen who’d roused herself from the couch but didn’t have the stamina to stand. Falling back, she forced herself forward again and was finally able to stumble toward the room off the kitchen, bellowing, “Hank, you get out here. There’s a woman here, taking our Angie.”
The door opened and the creepiest guy Charli’d seen in a long time shuffled out, half asleep. His overweight body looked like a walking boulder of muscle and flab, with short, skinny legs as props. Seeing a working man, one whose back and arms were most likely his tools of employment, and his belly a dumping ground for too much beer, she waited.
Eyes too close in the oversized head, hair missing on top and puffed out like a wreath around the bottom part of his head, it hung long enough to hang over his thick neck. Weaving towards them, he pushed his stained white muscle shirt, the type the kids refer to as a wife-beater, into his droopy sweats and glowered. “Where’s that bitch, Angie? Why’d you let her go away last night?”
“I never let her, idiot. She jis’ took it on herself to stay away. You gotta talk to her, make her mind.”
Suddenly, Hank looked over and saw Charli. His eyes narrowed when he saw the disgust she didn’t attempt to hide. Not too stupid, he stomped to within a foot of her and sneered, “Get out of my house, cop.”
“I’m no cop.”
“Ya look like one to me, even smell like one. Whoever you are, fuck off.”
“Make me.”
“What’d you say?”
“Are you deaf as well as ugly? I said, make me.”
Angie’s moan broke the dead silence. Charli spoke as an offside, “Go pack, kiddo. You’re coming home with me.”
“What the fuck?”
“That’s what I was tryin’ to tell you, Hank. This cop… ahh, lady wants to take away our little Angel.”
Hank snickered, spewing a sound like a giggle, his voice too high for a body so big. “You can call her angel. I call her bitch, and she’s not going nowhere.” He pointed at Angie and reiterated, “You listen to me, runt. You’re not leaving, and that’s it.”
Charli cut in, “You’re wrong, Hank. And, if you try to stop us, you’ll be sorry.”
“Okay, I’ve had enough of this nonsense.” He grabbed Charli’s arm to force her to the door… his first mistake. His second was not staying down when she flipped him over her hip and jabbed him hard in the stomach, once and then again.
Roaring with rage, knocking over a chair and lamp in his hurry to get to his feet… to get to her… he reached to punch, missed when she ducked and swung again.
Whipping her agile body out of his way, Charli’s elbow caught him on his collar bone and then she used her feet. Kicking him hard between the legs, she stopped his forward momentum. Then to seal the deal, she kicked him in the chin when he bent over to clutch the painful area.
His screams didn’t faze her one little bit, nor did his wife’s. Smiling, she walked over to the man, stuck her heel into his groin and scrunched down hard… really hard. This time his squeals outranked those of the now crazed woman who’d run to hide on her couch.
Bending down, Charli added another dose of pressure and spoke, “You ever come near Angie again, you nasty prick, and I’ll shoot you dead. That’s after I aim for these naughty little boys, you understand me, Numb-nuts? You’re a creepy sicko who should be in jail. And since my fiancé happens to be Major Blake Sebastian of the FLPD, I’ll make sure and tell him about this little visit and why. Him and his boys, well they’d take great pleasure in making life a living hell for you from now on. So, listen to my warning and take me seriously. Leave – Angie – alone.”
His pitiful moans still didn’t faze her. In fact, she relished his cries. “And… one more thing. If I can talk Angie into filing charges against you, you’ll be tried for rape. I’ll make sure you get thrown into regular housing in maximum security where the boys hate men like you. They like to give them a taste of their own medicine, if you know what I mean.”
Her words broke through the pain. He growled obscenities and pleas for help at the same time. “Fucking bitch, she’s lying. I never touched her. God help me, I need an ambulance. I’m dying. Look what you done to me. I’m bleeding.”
“Good.”
“Fucking bitches. Go. See if I care. Get out.” He pointed a shaking, dirty finger at Angie, who’d stayed frozen on the stairs. “Don’t come back crying for forgiveness. Help me, Lora. Goddamn.” Crying now, the pitiful animal blathered through his slobbering spit and runny nose.
Charli turned to see the girl frozen in place; a shocked look replacing the hard countenance she’d saved for Charli. Slowly, after Charli nodded yes, it’s truly happening, shining through her tears, hope appeared – hope and joy.
Charli winked and grinned. “Unless, there’s something here you particularly want, Angie, fuck the shit. I’ll buy you whatever you need.”
“There’s just one item I can’t leave. Will you wait? I’ll be right back.” Angie began racing up the rickety stairs but skidded to a stop. She fell backwards. Agile, driven by ramped up adrenalin; she righted herself in a split second. “Don’t leave.”
“I’ll wait. Get whatever you want.” Charli stood guard at the stairs and ignored the others.
Hurrying again, Angie reappeared a few seconds later clutching a visibly well-used teddy bear. “I couldn’t leave him.”
“No problem.”
“He’s my best friend.”
Chapter Twenty-four
The two walked out of the house, and on the porch, Charli felt a hand slip into hers, a smaller, softer, shaking hand. “Thank you.” She heard the tears and stopped to turn, to hug. She withdrew a tissue from her
pocket and wiped the girl’s face.
“You are so welcome, little girl. You’re mine now, and I’ll never let anything bad happen to you again, you got that? Never. From now on you and me, we’re a team.”
“And Kayla?”
“Of course.”
Kayla!
Charli started toward the car, and her heart stopped. The vehicle sat empty. Kayla was gone. Shit, shit… To be sure, she ran forward and searched inside.
Oh no! Fuck!
Suddenly, when she thought her legs would give out, when the stress she’d controlled during the battle started to creep out of hiding and take over, she heard Angie say, “Kayla, where were you?”
Kayla?
Charli turned and took a long overdue breath. Suddenly angry, a reaction to her fear, she stomped over to Kayla and demanded, “Yeah. Where were you? I specifically warned you to stay in the car, and when I give you an order, girl, you follow it.” Harsh words spit out in a voice that meant them, she hovered over the two younger girls now hugging.
Kayla didn’t cower or appear intimidated. “Like you’d stay in the car if you heard the screams I heard. I had your weapon, not you. How did I know it wasn’t you screaming? How could I stay safe if you needed me?”
Hearing the truth ringing throughout Kayla’s words, she backed off and nodded, understanding that the girl had broken orders thinking to protect her. How in the hell could she stay mad at Kayla for doing exactly what she would have done in the same situation?
Before she could apologize, an approaching siren broke the silence, and she questioned Kayla with her stunned glare. “You didn’t…”
“I had to. I thought it was you screaming in pain or maybe Angie. It sounded like a war zone. What would you have had me do? Twiddle my thumbs, ho-hum, and ignore everything? Get real.”
“Yeah, okay. But I’m calling him off, and then we need to go home and set some new rules.”
“Fine.”
“Fine.”
As they battled, Angie’s head bobbed from Kayla to Charli and back again. Astonished glee that hadn’t faded, transformed her back to a fourteen-year-old for the first time. Hugging her teddy bear added to that impression.
Kayla stepped to meet Blake, who’d arrived just as she knew he would… since it was his number she’d called. The weight of the weapon, hanging from her hand, reminded her she still clutched it. She shoved it toward Charli who quickly hid it in the back waistband of her dark pants.
The SUV skidded to a stop in the middle of the road, gravel flying, and Blake erupted like he’d been shot from a cannon. “What’s up, Kayla?” As soon as he saw the three girls safe and together, his demeanor changed from a rescuing cop under a great deal of pressure to a man unsure of his welcome. “You sounded terrified, said Charli was in trouble.” Charli saw his eyes moving, taking in everything at once, the way he’d been trained.
“Yeah, I panicked. Charli and Angie are fine. Right?” She turned to face the other two.
Both nodded, and to be sure, Charli spoke to her new responsibility. “You okay, kiddo?”
Angie’s beatific smile broke out, belying the tear-streaked face. “I’m perfect.” No sooner had those words left her lips than she broke. This time her wails wouldn’t be hushed until Kayla wrapped her arms around her and led her to their car. “It’s okay, Angie. Whatever happened, everything will be fine.”
Angie started babbling like a tap with a broken valve. “You should have seen her. Charli flipped that big bastard, Hank, on his ass and then kicked him in the balls, had him crying like a baby. It was the most beautiful thing I ever saw. He never knew what hit him.” Angie’s loud voice, overflowing with excitement, shock and tremendous joy, ensured that Blake heard her every word.
All the time the girl rambled on; he stared at Charli until his arms swept her into a bear hug she couldn’t break loose.
“What are you…? Stop it.” She struggled but he wouldn’t let her go.
“Were you hurt? You’re shaking. I can feel it.”
“It’s just a shitty stress thing I’m dealing with,” she hissed in his ear. “The girls are watching. Seriously, back off or I won’t be responsible for what’ll happen.”
Being nobody’s fool, he stepped back and held up his hands.
“Calm down sweetheart. Right now, they’re smiling, so don’t spoil the moment. By the way, Angie is crying happy tears, I can tell. And Kayla’s squeals are filled with pure joy. You need to share. I can use some good news too.”
Blake turned to Charli who now leaned against the rented car, her arms wrapped around herself, her legs weak at the thought of the responsibility she’d just taken on. She’d been so obsessed in her need to get Angie revenge; she’d forgotten a few rather important details.
She was in a witness protection program with a fourteen-year-old girl, hiding in fear for her life.
And she’d just committed herself to another fourteen-year-old… this time forever.
Jesus help me, what the hell was I thinking?
Chapter Twenty-five
John Madison hadn’t really been serious about his plans to go to Fort Lauderdale, not really. But finding a dead body in his apartment had totally revised his thinking – big time.
He hadn’t known that Mark Crawly planned a visit with him that day, not until he found the detective beaten around the face and dead in his easy-boy chair; the one Charli had insisted he needed because the electric mechanism lifted him for easier standing.
The problem he had with the sucker was when he’d fall asleep and his arm accidently pressed the up-button, he’d wake up just as his body flew through the air to land a few feet across the room. He’d blessed the position of his sofa across from the chair, giving him a soft landing more times than he’d admit.
Stop it! He wiped his eyes and blew his nose. Hands shaking terribly, he rubbed them against his knees, reenacting familiar behavior before the pain-relieving days of yoga exercises for the elderly, a knee replacement, and best of all, his B.C. Bud Rub.
Stop rambling, old man, and ignoring the inevitable. Reviewing the horrific scene, his sluggish brain had trouble taking it in. Like a spoiled puppy, most of his days were spent eating and sleeping with the occasional fun activity thrown in. The only occasions where he cared enough to stay alert were spent with his FBI granddaughter.
It’s time to deal with reality, John-boy. You can’t escape what’s right in front of you.
Mark hadn’t had the luxury of escape either. It appeared that the old cop had taken quite a thrashing before he’d been put out of his misery. Was this done by the same killer he’d read about? Oh God, had the killer executed Mark, trying to get answers to Charli’s whereabouts – tortured him until he talked?
Not that Mark could have given away all that much. Once, after too much wine and John’s constant sly probing, he’d shaken his head bemused by John’s unwillingness to give up. “I’m not taking any chances on your girl’s safety, John. Not that I know a lot about her whereabouts now that she’s in the system anyway. But she’s a good agent, and you should be proud of her for stepping up and doing her duty.”
John computed Mark’s “in the system” comments, her taking on a special job and everything else he’d managed to piece together, with her being in witness protection. He presumed, either someone else could ID the murderer they’d written about in the paper, or she was the witness herself.
Either way, she’d gone into hiding. And he’d bet the farm that the killer had done his best to find out where. But an old soldier like Mark wouldn’t have spilled the beans. Would he?
Suddenly, a sledge hammer of understanding hit him hard, and had him falling back against the sofa that had provided him a soft landing so many times before.
That murdering bastard came here to question me!
That makes the most sense. He thought I knew something, found Mark waiting for me in my chair and probably mistook us.
Okay, this could only mean one thing. Sure as shit,
the killer was after his Charli.
Wake up, old fool. Grab a few things and get your rickety old ass out of here. It’s too late to save Mark, but you need to disappear before they stop you from trying to warn her.
Circling the apartment like a chicken with his head cut off, John grabbed an old tote bag, some underwear, shirts, pants and socks and then stopped.
Scratching his head, needing to think straight, he waited. When new thoughts bombarded, he took off again. This time, he snagged his passport, iPad, phone, wallet and all the cash he’d stuffed in hiding places around the joint.
Suddenly, he thought of his laptop and knew he didn’t want the cops to find the latest searches he’d done when they worked the crime scene. With it under his arm, he headed to Brad’s apartment.
Banging loudly, knowing the old fart had probably fallen asleep after supper, he walked in and sure enough, there he sat, snoring away in his chair.
He thought for a minute and tiptoed forward. Actually, this worked even better. Rather than asking Brad to hide the computer, and then lying to the questions he’d no doubt have to answer, he’d just tuck it away somewhere his old friend wouldn’t notice it.
Sneaking into the man’s bedroom, blessing God for giving him strong limbs so he needed no walker or walking aids other than the occasional cane on rainy days, he opened the closet to hide his laptop.
Just as he went to close the door, he spotted a thin leather binder with the word “Documents” embossed in gold lettering. Quickly, he opened it and amongst the papers, he found Brad’s passport and his old medical card. Grabbing both, plus the unopened bottle of extra strength Tylenol his pal ate like candy, he let himself out without rousing his friend.
First checking to see if the corridor was clear, he hurried back to his place to collect his gear. Needing to scat before someone came into his apartment and tried to stop him, he headed for the back door, fingered in the security code to unlock it and headed to the nearest restaurant.
There he approached a young lady, asked if she’d be so kind as to use her phone to call him a taxi, and was tickled when after inquiring where he wanted to go, she offered him a ride.
