Close Enough to Touch (Rylee Hayes Thriller Book 1)

by Cade Brogan

  Gladys smiled, nodding. “Every hour, on the hour,” she responded.

  “I’m so ready to go home,” Rylee groaned, stretching and whirring her bed upward.

  “I don’t think that’s in the plan for today,” Gladys responded. “But,” she continued, lifting an eyebrow, “your doctor did say he’d consider it for tomorrow if you were alert and able to keep soft food down.”

  “I will be,” Rylee said, looking around. “Where’s Kenz?” she asked, yawning.

  “She had to go meet Abby’s bus,” Gladys answered, sitting down beside her. “It was due in at noon. She should be back in a little while.”

  “Yeah, that’s right,” Rylee said. “Oh happy day, the kid’s coming home.”

  Gladys furrowed her brow. “It might not be as bad as you’ve got yourself worked up to think it will,” she said, meeting her eye. “You haven’t even met her yet. Give her a chance and you might just find you like one another.”

  “Yeah, maybe,” Rylee responded, shaking her head as she looked off. “But it’s not just about liking her.”

  “I know,” Gladys said softly, stroking her forearm. “It’s also about the fact that Kenzie had her with someone else.”

  Rylee looked away, nodding. “Yeah,” she muttered, “and that I’m gonna have to see his face every time I look into the kid’s eyes.”

  “You will if that’s who you’re looking for,” Gladys responded quietly.

  Rylee turned her head, meeting her eye.

  “She’s Kenzie’s too, you know,” Gladys continued softly. “And if you love her…” She smiled kindly. “If you love her like you say you love her, then you’ll find a place in your heart for her daughter.”

  “I’m gonna try,” Rylee responded, swallowing hard. She held her abdomen, whirring her bed back down.

  “I know you will,” Gladys said softly. She cocked her head and her eyes narrowed. “Are you okay?” she inquired.

  “Yeah,” Rylee answered, grimacing, “I’m just a little sick to my stomach all the sudden.” She swallowed, shutting her eyes tightly. “And the room’s spinning round-and-round.”

  “I’ll buzz your nurse,” Gladys said. “They held off on your anti-nausea med to see how you did without it.” She kissed her forehead gently, adding, “I guess we know now, don’t we?”

  “Yeah, we do,” Rylee mumbled, shifting position, and trying to get comfortable. “If I fall asleep, have Kenz wake me up when she gets back, okay?”

  “I will,” Gladys answered, turning down the light.

  ***

  “Right on time,” Kenzie said as the red and purple, fifty-five-passenger motor coach pulled into the parking lot. As the go-to vehicle for missionary trips, John 3:16, “For God so loved the world, that he gave his only Son, that whoever believes in him should not perish but have eternal life,” had been painted on both sides. “Be right back,” she added, opening her door.

  “Be right here,” Omar said, smiling. “I’m looking forward to meeting your daughter.”

  “She’ll enjoy meeting you too,” Kenzie responded, waving toward the darkened windows of the large vehicle as she stepped off. With a whoosh, the door opened, revealing four wide steps, and an aisle. A group of three teenagers exited first; four more followed; then two; and then Abby, by herself. “Welcome home,” she said warmly, hugging her, and smiling. “I missed you, baby.”

  “Missed you too,” Abby responded, smiling back. She didn’t seem angry. Two weeks was usually about the right amount of time. “Where’s our car?” she asked, scanning the parking lot as she collected her luggage from the baggage compartment on the side.

  “It’s at home, honey,” Kenzie responded. “I have a friend I want you to meet.” She nodded toward Omar’s car. “Right over there. He’s giving us a ride.”

  Abby made a face, shrugging her shoulders. “Cool, I guess,” she responded, sliding into the backseat without further comment.

  Kenzie got in the front, saying, “Omar, this is Abby.” She took a breath, choosing her words carefully. “And Abby,” she continued, meeting her eye, “this is Omar Hayes. You remember me telling you about my friend, Rye, the one from college? Well, this is her grandfather.”

  “She’s the drummer, right?” Abby answered, nodding with a hint of a smile.

  “Yeah,” Kenzie said, smiling back, “she’s the drummer.” She adjusted a lock of Abby’s hair, misplaced on her shoulder. “Well,” she continued, “we reconnected while you were gone.” She held her breath, waiting for she wasn’t sure what.

  “Cool,” Abby responded, nodding to Omar as her smile widened. “She’s good,” she told him. “It’s like she plays without even thinking about it.”

  “She is good,” Omar responded, his eyes twinkling with pride. “I haven’t heard her play in quite a while,” he added. “We’ll have to talk her into giving us a little concert.”

  “Oooh, cool,” Abby said, “maybe I could play along.”

  Omar looked back, smiling as he turned the corner. “You know what? I think she’d like that a lot.”

  “Cool,” Abby said, still nodding.

  “So,” Kenzie continued, “Rye won’t be able to play for a while because she’s in the hospital.” She held Abby’s eye, hesitating long enough for a swallow. “And…I was hoping you wouldn’t mind if we went there instead of straight home.”

  “Yeah, sure,” Abby responded, her mind still on drums, “I think I still know that song,” she added. “You know, the one from her album?”

  “I’ll bet you do,” Kenzie responded, glancing at Omar. “We played it a lot there for a while, back when you first started drumming.”

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Omar came to a halt on the far side of the circle drive. “Good to meet you, Abby,” he said, turning toward her. “Guess I’ll see you upstairs.” He was assuming that by the time he parked the car, they’d already be up there.

  Kenzie looked over, catching his eye. “We’re gonna take a walk through the garden before we head up,” she said, shifting her gaze to Abby. “That’s okay by you, isn’t it honey?”

  “Yeah, sure,” Abby answered, cocking her head slightly. She wasn’t pleased, but had just gotten back from a two-week hiatus, and was humoring her mother.

  “It’s gorgeous, isn’t it?” Omar responded, his gaze drifting toward the grove of cherry trees that surrounded the sculptural garden. “I love how the landscape kind of flows into the architecture,” he added. “Bet it cost ‘em a fortune to have it designed.”

  “I’ll bet you’re right,” Kenzie responded, struggling to focus on anything but the conversation she was about to have with her daughter. “Okay,” she added, taking a breath, “well, thanks for the ride, and we’ll see you in a little while.”

  “Sure thing,” Omar answered, smiling as he drove off.

  “So,” Kenzie said, “you’ve probably already figured out that I want to talk with you about something.”

  “Hard to miss,” Abby responded, stepping onto the row of block edging that ran alongside a colorful garden. “What about?” she asked as she reached up to touch the finger of one of the sculptures.

  Kenzie took a soft breath, swallowing.

  Abby looked over, halting. “You’re acting funny, Mom,” she said. “Did somebody die or something?”

  “No, nothing like that, honey,” Kenzie said. “I’m just trying to decide how to tell you what I need to tell you.”

  “Just say it,” Abby responded, meeting her eye.

  Kenzie nodded but said nothing.

  “Mom,” Abby continued, her hands finding her hips, “just tell me.”

  “I’m going to,” Kenzie responded, taking a deep breath before her words began to flow. “So,” she said, her voice softening, “I knew this before I married your Daddy,” she began. “I knew, but I was trying to change, so I didn’t worry about it. I thought after a while…” She swallowed hard. “I thought after a while;
I’d be normal.” She smiled thinly, meeting her daughter’s brown eyes. “I was trying to ignore who I was so that I could become someone else.” She swallowed hard. “That’s never a good idea, to deny who you are.” She pressed her lips together, continuing, “And as you know, your daddy’s and my marriage didn’t work out.” She held her gaze tenderly, adding, “So, there’s something I need to tell you about who I was back then and who I am now.” She took a breath, blurting out, “I’m a lesbian, honey.”

  Abby exhaled, lifting an eyebrow. “Old news, Mom,” she responded with that look that said her mom, and possibly all adults, were nuts.

  Kenzie tilted her head, her eyes widening. “What?” she asked. “What are you talking about?”

  Abby’s head shook slowly, looking down, as if she wanted to chuckle, but was restraining herself. “Dad told me,” she said, lifting her eyes. “He said you liked girls, but not boys. He said that’s why you guys were getting a divorce.”

  “When?” Kenzie asked. “When did he tell you?”

  “Before you went to court,” Abby answered, resuming their walk. “That’s why I didn’t want to go with you at first,” she said. “He said I’d grow up to be just like you.” She pulled herself onto a sculpture that had a sign posted nearby, saying to stay off. When she dropped down, she met her mom’s gaze, adding, “Lame, I know.”

  “Not lame, baby,” Kenzie said softly, slipping her arm around her daughter’s shoulders. “I’m glad you told me.”

  “So, are we going in now?” Abby asked, “Because I want to meet Rye. Do you know what kind of drum set she’s got? Is it like mine?”

  “Yeah,” Kenzie said, taking a soft breath, “it’s a lot like yours, honey.” She sat down on a bench, patting the seat beside her. “We’ll go in shortly,” she promised, “but before we do, I’ve got a couple more things I need to tell you.” She was pleased with how well the first part of her disclosure had gone and hoped part two would go as well.

  Abby shook her head, crinkling her brow as she sat down.

  “So,” Kenzie said, “about Rye…” She bit her lower lip, holding her eye. “She was more than just a friend when we were in college.”

  Abby cocked her head, her eyes narrowing as she figured things out.

  “And while you were on your trip,” Kenzie continued quietly, “we kind of picked up where we left off.”

  Abby’s face tightened, crossing her arms.

  “What’s going on, honey?” Kenzie asked, fearing that she’d sprung too much on her too fast. “You seemed fine and now you’re not,” she continued. “What’s up?”

  Abby cracked her knuckles, looking off.

  “Abby?” Kenzie said, her voice lifting. “You need to talk to me.”

  “You lied to me,” Abby said, glaring.

  “I didn’t lie to you; I just didn’t tell you,” Kenzie responded, adding, “you were too young.”

  “Too young for details maybe,” Abby muttered, shaking her head.

  “I didn’t lie to you, Abby,” Kenzie insisted.

  “When I forget to tell you something,” Abby spat, “you say omission’s the same as a lie.” She pressed her lips together. “What’s the difference?”

  Kenzie felt a thickness in her throat as they peered into one another’s eyes. “Maybe not much,” she said softly. “I’m sorry.”

  Abby took a breath, looking away. “Can we just go in,” she asked, “so we can get this over with?”

  Kenzie nodded, saying, “Sure.”

  ***

  Approaching the main entrance to the hospital was like stepping under the canopy of a gigantic patio gazebo. They didn’t speak as they made their way through the revolving door, nor as they got onto the elevator. “She’s on six,” Kenzie said, pressing the corresponding circular button.

  Abby nodded, looking up as the numbers—2—3—4—5—6—flashed by.

  A high-pitched ding sounded and they stepped off. When they came to the glass walkway, Kenzie paused, expecting that her daughter would want to peer down at the four lanes of whizzing traffic, something she’d enjoyed doing since she was a small child. “Don’t you want to stop?” she asked. “Because we’ve got time if you want to.”

  “No, not today” Abby responded, walking on.

  Kenzie swallowed. “I really am sorry, Abigail,” she said softly.

  “It’s okay,” Abby answered quietly. They walked, then turned, and then walked some more. “Cops,” Abby noticed, rounding the corner. “How come?”

  “I’m not sure,” Kenzie responded. “I’d guess they came to see Rye, but I don’t think so.” She’d noticed them at the entrance to the hallway when she’d gone to pick her up.

  “Is she in trouble or something?” Abby asked, wrinkling her brow.

  “Oh, no honey,” Kenzie answered, “she’s a police officer.”

  “Oooh, cool,” Abby said, her eyes taking on a glow.

  “A homicide detective,” Kenzie added, “I’m sure she’d love to talk with you all about it.” It wasn’t that she didn’t like and respect police officers, it was just that she wished Rylee had gone into banking or insurance or teaching—anything other than an occupation that could get her killed on a daily basis.

  “She investigates murders?” Abby said. “Oooh, cool!” Her eyes widened even more. “You think she investigated Sally’s?”

  Kenzie exhaled, deciding whether to lie or tell the truth. “Yes,” she finally said, “but she won’t be able to talk about it since it’s an ongoing case.”

  “That’s okay,” Abby said, “I can wait.”

  Kenzie’s eyes narrowed on approach. “Huh,” she said, tilting her head, “Gladys and Omar are out in the hall.” She picked up her pace. “They must be working with her or something,” she added, noting that Rylee’s door was closed. “Is everything okay?” she asked, her brow furrowing as she came toward them.

  “Oh yes, it’s fine,” Gladys responded, smiling. “Rich just stopped by and we thought we’d give them some privacy.”

  “That’s Rye’s partner,” Kenzie explained, looking toward Abby. “Just what she needs,” she commented, her gaze shifting back to Gladys, “work talk.” She shook her head, releasing a quiet breath. “I take it she’s feeling better.”

  “She is,” Gladys responded. “Improved significantly after her last dose of anti-nausea medication. I think they plan to send her home on it.” She held her gaze, adding, “Not sure whether that’ll be to our house or yours.”

  “Mine,” Kenzie responded, dropping her eyes slightly to Abby’s. “Ours,” she corrected.

  “So this must be your beautiful drum player,” Gladys greeted, smiling.

  “Yes,” Kenzie responded, slipping her arm around Abby for a squeeze. “This is Abby.”

  “Pleased to meet you,” Gladys said, extending her hand. “Omar tells me that in addition to playing drums, you like trains.”

  “Yeah, I do,” Abby responded, nodding, and smiling back. It wasn’t long before she plopped down on the bench between them. “Wow, you were a cop too?” Her eyes widened as she held Omar’s gaze. “Oooh, cool! Do you still have your gun?”

  Kenzie exhaled quietly.

  “I do,” Omar answered, smiling from his cheeks to his eyes. “You’ll have to come over and see it sometime.”

  “Oooh, cool,” Abby responded.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  “We’ll get her,” Rich promised, walking over to the window and staring down.

  “Too bad we lost her,” Rylee responded with a long breath.

  “Yeah, well,” Rich said, his voice fading off, “mistakes happen.” He shook his head. “And Lou paid the ultimate price for that one, not two months before she was gonna retire.”

  “I know,” Rylee responded, “that’s awful.” Her eyes narrowed. “I should’ve just shot the bitch on the spot. If I had, she’d be alive, and we’d be done.”

  “Can’t second guess yourself,�
� Rich said. “You made a bunch of split-second decisions at that moment.” He met her gaze. “And you and Kenzie, you came out alright.”

  “Yeah, thank God,” Rylee said. “I’d have sooner died than lost her.”

  “Yeah, well, I think she felt the same way about you, pal,” Rich responded. “She was a mess until you started doing better at the hospital.”

  Rylee sipped water from a straw, pausing as it went down, pleased when she didn’t feel the urge to throw up. “You think we should post a couple more patrols,” she asked, “just to be sure?”

  “Got two at the end of the hall,” Rich answered, pointing his body in that direction, “one by the elevator, one by the stairwell, two at Kenzie’s, one at your place, and another at your grandparents’ house. If she turns up, I think we’ve got her.” He shook his head. “But I don’t think she’ll turn up, at least not here anyway. I think she’s long gone.”

  Rylee bit her lip, looking off. “I hope so,” she mumbled, adding, “if I could just get out of here, there’d be one more.”

  “Won’t do anyone any good until you’re good enough to go,” Rich responded. “Besides, you don’t need to worry, because I’ve got you covered on this one, off the clock.”

  “Thanks, pal,” Rylee said, holding his gaze, “I owe ya.”

  “No, you don’t,” Rich responded, “because that’s what partners do for one another.”

  “So, do we have any solid leads on her whereabouts?” Rylee asked, her eyes darting to the door, and then the clock.

  “Just what we got from checking her employment history,” Rich responded, shaking his head slowly. “And that’s more of a trail of where she’s been, than her current whereabouts.” He scratched his head. “Oh, and we found this gruesome little collection of bottles in a lockbox at her house.” He grimaced. “A fingernail clipping from what we assume are all of her past victims.” His eyes widened as their gazes locked. “Three-hundred-fifty-two of them.” He squinted. “Well actually, three-hundred-fifty-three, but the last bottle only had a label.”