by Megan Green
He leans over, stopping my words with his mouth. It works, my mind instantly getting wrapped up in the kiss and forgetting my argument.
When he pulls back, he smiles. “Looks like I’ve found my new favorite way to shut you up,” he says with a laugh.
I grin. “Feel free to shut me up like that whenever you like.”
He leans back against the pillows, pulling me with him. He wraps me in his arms, and just as I’m about to drift off to sleep, his voice interrupts my doze, “Do you see those stars up there?” He points toward the sky.
My eyes flutter open, my gaze following his finger until I find a familiar group of stars.
“The Big Dipper?” I ask.
I feel him nod against me.
“When I was young, I dragged my dad outside to show off my exceptional stargazing skills. I was so excited that I was able to point out this asterism, certain he’d be impressed with my knowledge. And, while he was very impressed, he also shared something with me that has stuck with me to this day. Have you ever heard of the Drinking Gourd?”
I shake my head, his smooth, deep voice lulling me into a sense of contentment. I could lie here all night, just listening to him speak.
“Well, back in the darker days of this country, when slavery still existed, there was this thing called the Underground Railroad.”
I nod, letting him know I know what that is. I remember learning about that in school. How Harriet Tubman, with the help of several others, was able to lead hundreds of people to freedom. It’s always been such an amazing story to me. How a few people were able to rise up and help so many others, even in the midst of their own oppression. It was a true form of bravery. A strength I couldn’t even begin to imagine.
“The slaves referred to the Big Dipper as the Drinking Gourd. It was a folk song, ‘Follow the Drinking Gourd,’ sung all across the country, letting these poor people know that, if they followed the Drinking Gourd, it could help lead them to freedom.”
I think of all the people who might have been saved by this, by following the stars to the people who could help them, and I’m amazed by the power of these bright balls of light thousands of miles away. But I’m not sure where Joey is going with this.
As if sensing my confusion, he continues, “Many times, during those long nights in Iraq, I’d look up at these seven stars and think of that story. How, no matter where you were in the world, you could look up at the sky and see these same seven stars. And, even though my plight was very, very different from that of the slaves, the stars still gave me a sense of hope, of stability. Like, no matter where I was in the world, as long as I could see these stars, I would always find my way home.”
I lift my head, pressing a brief kiss to his lips. “I’m glad you found your way home.”
“Me, too. You are my home, Nichole. These stars led me back home, right here in your arms. For the past twelve years, I’ve been wading in the open sea, unable to find my way back to where I belonged. There might have been a few stops along the way, temporary islands that were quickly overrun by the power of the water, but I’ve finally found it. I’ve finally found my solid ground. And it’s right here with you.”
A single tear escapes the corner of my eye, trailing down my cheek until it falls onto his chest. I rest my head where it landed, squeezing him tightly against me.
Joey has just voiced my feelings perfectly.
I’ve been adrift for so damn long.
And I finally feel like I’m standing on solid ground.
“Mom?” Cade asks from the kitchen table where he’s supposed to be eating his cereal but instead is playing with the damn toy that was in the box.
School started two days ago. The thrill of the new school year has already started to wear off, and he’s back to dragging his feet every morning.
I turn from where I’m rinsing my dish in the sink, my hand on my hip as I look at him. “Yeah?” I ask, my irritation clear in my tone.
If there’s one bad thing about being a parent, it’s this. Trying to get a third grader ready for school and out the door on time is an act of freaking Congress. I love this kid more than anything in the world. But from August to May, I dread every single morning.
Cade doesn’t look up from the action figure in his hands. I’m about to storm over and snatch it away, hustling him from the table to go brush his teeth before the school bus gets here, when he stops me dead in my tracks.
“Do you love Joey?”
My mouth falls open, and I stand here, stunned. Of all the things I expected him to say, this was at the very bottom.
Mom, I’m running away to join the circus, would’ve been less of a surprise.
When I don’t answer, he places the toy on the table before looking at me. I’m not sure what he thinks when he sees the expression on my face, but he gets out of the chair and comes to my side. Taking my hand, he looks up at me, his sweet face smiling widely.
“It’s okay if you do. Joey is cool.” He looks from side to side, as if checking to see if anyone is around. Satisfied that we’re alone, he leans into me. “Can you keep a secret?” he whispers.
I nod, still unsure of what to say.
“Joey told me he loves you. He asked me if I thought that was okay. I told him, as long as he’s nice to you, I guess it’s okay.”
I kneel beside my son, pulling him into my arms.
He hugs me tightly before pulling back. “Was that okay, Mom—what I told him? Is it okay if he loves you?”
I nod. “It’s okay, baby.”
“Because you love him, too?” he asks again.
I smile. “Yes, because I love him, too.”
Cade beams at me, throwing his arms up in the air. “Yes!”
I laugh at his excitement, watching him dance around in a little circle. When he stops, I take ahold of his arms, making him look me in the eye.
“What do you think of Joey? No matter what, Cade, you are the most important man in my life. It’s important to me that you like him, too.”
Cade gives an exaggerated roll of his eyes, the kind that only kids can pull off. “Duh, Mom. Were you even listening to me? Joey is the coolest guy ever! And I love him, too. I told him that weeks ago. Gosh, don’t you pay attention?”
He pulls himself out of my arms, taking off down the hall as he shouts, “Mom and Joey, sittin’ in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G.”
I’m stunned by his words, but I can’t stop myself from laughing at his tune.
If he only knew, I say to myself with an inward smile, thinking back to all the times Joey and I made love over the past few weeks. There’s a hell of a lot more than K-I-S-S-I-N-G going on.
Cade flies back into the living room, interrupting my thoughts. I get him packed up and out the door—somehow, on time—and I watch as he runs out to the school bus.
The next few hours pass slowly. I don’t have to work until this evening, and I have no errands to run in town. I waste a few hours puttering around the apartment—straightening up this, cleaning that. Finally giving up on trying to be productive, I curl up on the couch with a book, deciding that getting lost in a fictional world is as good a way as any to spend these last few hours until Cade gets home. I should enjoy the peace and quiet while I can, I guess.
It takes a couple of chapters, but soon, I’m completely immersed in the story.
I don’t even notice the soft clicks coming from the front door.
Not until it swings wide with a familiar form filling the doorway.
“Hello, sweetheart.”
Chief scrubs his hands down his face as he leans back in his chair. When he drops his hands, I can see the exhaustion etched into his every feature.
He blows out a shaky breath. “This can’t keep happening, Roberts. We’ve got to figure out who’s selling to these kids. I can’t see another one of these come across my desk. I fucking can’t.” He grabs a photo from his desk before flinging it at me.
I already know what I’ll see, but I look down at it anyway. Th
e vacant stare of seventeen-year-old Anthony Perkins looks up at me, his mother having found him facedown on their bathroom floor with a syringe in one hand and a tourniquet tied around the opposite arm. We’re still waiting on the autopsy results, but it’s safe to assume that whatever was in that needle is what killed him.
Fucking heroin, I’d guess. Just like the others.
This brings the total up to ten. Ten kids have now lost their lives in the past six months. Not a lot, I guess, considering the grand scheme of things. But ten too many. One was too goddamn many.
Whoever this asshole is seems to be targeting this age group, too. In the beginning, we saw an occasional overdose by someone in their thirties or forties. But, these past few months, they’ve all been kids. It’s like he’s realized his sweet spot, these naive kids who want nothing more than to defy their parents and party hard. Hell, I did the same thing at their age. I just stuck to alcohol instead of hard drugs. But, apparently, that isn’t enough for teenagers anymore. Bigger and better. Harder and more dangerous. And, whoever this guy is, he’s sure as hell making it easy for them to get what they’re looking for. The overdoses aren’t the only cases we’ve seen. We’ve picked up numerous teens acting out while under the influence, a few minutes of idiocy creating a record that will haunt them for the rest of their lives. It’s becoming a sort of epidemic in our sleepy town.
I think of Cade and how I’d feel if he were ever approached with something like this in the future. My blood boils as I think of his potential friends pressuring him, a dealer promising him highs that he could never imagine. I hope he’d be smart enough to say no. To walk away, knowing someone who’d ask those kinds of things of him was no friend at all. But I also remember the oppressive need to be accepted when you’re that age. How one wrong move can cause years of ridicule and heartache.
I make a mental note to have a chat with him sometime this week. With any luck, it’ll be years and years before he’s ever faced with that kind of decision. But it’s better to be safe than sorry. If I start instilling it in him now, maybe the decision will be much easier ten years down the road.
I grab the folder off Chief’s desk, tucking the photo back inside, and I start reading over the police report again. He shuffles some papers around, but I can tell he’s at a loss as to what to do next.
I’m halfway through the report when my phone rings. Pulling it from the holster at my hip, I glance at the screen and silence it when I see the unfamiliar number. I’m sliding it back into place, my eyes returning to the paper in my lap, when it starts up again.
Tilting it back, I see the same number flashing across the screen. Whoever it is must really need to talk to me. They didn’t even wait two seconds before redialing.
My interest piqued, I look at Chief. “Mind if I take this?” I ask.
His eyes don’t leave the stacks of paper before him; only a dismissive wave lets me know he even heard my request. I stand, placing the open folder on my empty seat so that I can return to where I left off as soon as I’m done with this call.
Slipping out into the hall, I press the Answer button and bring the phone to my ear.
“Officer Roberts speaking.”
“Joey?” Cade’s soft voice comes through the other line. His tone is shaky, almost as if he’s scared.
My pulse kicks into overdrive, my vision blurring as my eyes lose focus, but I concentrate on his voice. “Cade? What is it? Where are you?”
He’s silent for a moment, and I’m sure I hear a small sniffle before he speaks, “I’m at school. I missed the bus, and now, Mom isn’t answering her phone. She told me she’d always answer.”
I can hear the quiver in his voice, as if he’s biting his lip and trying not to cry.
I bought Nichole a cell phone a few weeks ago, despite her fervent protests that she didn’t need one. I told her, with Cade starting school again, it would make things easier should he or the school need to contact her and she wasn’t at home. She agreed quickly after that. And it made me feel better, knowing she would be only a phone call away at all times.
I tell Cade I’ll be there in a couple of minutes and not to worry. “She probably just forgot to charge it or something, and it’s lying on the counter, dead. She’ll probably kick herself as soon as she realizes it.”
Cade sniffs again, agreeing with me. He sounds slightly more reassured before he hangs up, and I hustle back into Chief’s office to let him know I’ll be back shortly. I jog out to my car, pulling my phone back out, and I slide into the driver’s seat.
I dial Nichole’s number, letting it ring several times before her voice mail picks up. Hanging up, I immediately call again, only to get the same result.
If her phone were dead, it would go straight to voice mail, not ring over and over, like it’s sitting on the coffee table, being ignored. My heart pounds in my chest, my thoughts instantly turning to the worst-case scenario as I punch down on the accelerator.
I pull up in front of Cade’s school, still trying Nichole’s phone over and over again. His teacher is there, waiting with him, and after he assures her that he knows and trusts me, she lets him climb into my cruiser.
Cade seems to pick up on my unease, his little hands wringing as he watches me. I smile, trying to lessen the tension. I weave in and out of traffic, earning myself a few honks of annoyance. And, when the light ahead goes red, I do something I’ve told myself I’d never do.
Turning to Cade, I give him a serious look. “You can’t tell anybody about this, okay?”
He nods, not even asking what I mean.
Reaching out, I flip on my lights and sirens, and then I speed through the intersection, deciding to leave them on until I reach Nichole. Every few seconds, I glance over at Cade in an attempt to judge his reaction. It’s a testament to how worried he is that he doesn’t seem fazed in the least by speeding through town in a cop car, lights and sirens blazing. I’d have died of little-boy happiness if this had happened to me at his age.
But then I never had to worry about the safety of my mother. My childhood was carefree and fun, something Cade has never had the privilege of experiencing.
I reach over and place my hand on his shoulder, giving him a reassuring squeeze. “She’s going to be okay, Cade. You’ll see.”
I give him a halfhearted smile, which he tepidly returns. I press down harder on the accelerator, pressing the Call button on my phone once again.
“C’mon, Nichole, pick up,” I murmur to myself.
“Hi, you’ve reached Nichole. Leave me a message.”
Cursing under my breath, I toss my phone on the dash in frustration. Cade reaches over and takes my hand, tightly squeezing it in his as we drive. After what feels like an eternity but what has been surely only five or ten minutes tops, I skid to a stop in front of Nichole’s apartment. I jump out of the car, hardly having time to throw it in park, before I’m pounding down the sidewalk.
“Wait here!” I shout to Cade.
I have no idea what I’m going to find. Hopefully, it’s just a peacefully sleeping Nichole or something of the like. But, just in case, I don’t want Cade anywhere near that apartment until I know it’s safe.
I take the stairs two at a time, my prosthesis making the movement slightly awkward, but I’m not about to let that slow me down. I push against the door as soon as I reach it. Turning the knob, I throw my shoulder into it.
Locked.
I bang on it for a second, but I can’t hear anything on the other side of the heavy wood. My hand goes to my pocket, searching for the key Nichole trusted me with shortly after she moved in.
“Just in case,” she told me.
I figure this is as “just in case” as it gets. But my pocket is empty as I left my keys in the ignition of my cruiser.
“Fuck!” I say, momentarily considering breaking down the door.
But, if Nichole is sleeping in there or out grabbing a few groceries and just lost track of time, she’ll think I’m insane for busting down her door
. Not to mention, the trouble she might get in with the super.
Deciding ten seconds won’t make that much of a difference to what might be waiting on the other side of that door, I hustle down the stairs again. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Cade has gotten out of the car and is sitting on one of the swings of the playground, completely still. I don’t have time to explain or to lecture him for not listening though, so I flash him a quick thumbs-up as I reach my car. Yanking the keys out of the ignition, I’m back at Nichole’s door in no time at all.
The intense adrenaline coursing through my veins causes my hands to shake, and it takes me a few tries to get the key in the lock. Blowing out a steadying breath, I push the door open and step inside.
Nothing.
No sign of Nichole. Not a single thing out of place.
I exhale a sigh of relief, suddenly feeling exhausted from the anxiety of the last ten minutes. I step into the kitchen, giving it a cursory glance. With a smile, I note their breakfast dishes are still drying on the rack on the counter. Nichole absolutely cannot stand a dirty dish in the sink. This is definitely a difference from the old Nichole, who’d shove dishes under her bed in an attempt to avoid having to wash them. I wonder briefly how that change in her personality came about, if maybe James had something to do with it. But I quickly shake the thought off. Nichole says she doesn’t want to talk about him, doesn’t even want to think about him. So, I try to honor her wishes by doing the same. The piece of shit doesn’t deserve the time and effort it takes anyway.
I check the hall bathroom just to be sure the place is empty. Finding nothing, I step into her bedroom.
The bed is neatly made, all fifty thousand of her decorative pillows arranged perfectly on the comforter. I run a hand over the footboard, nodding to myself in reassurance.
All is well, Roberts. You just let your thoughts get a little out of control. No biggie.
I turn around, needing to get back to Cade and let him know that everything is fine. Poor kid is probably making himself sick with worry, and the longer I take in here, the more and more he’s going to assume something is wrong.
