“I guess it depends on why.”
We were almost to the school, and he was still quiet, which worried me. I thought we’d moved past the silence and secrets. I was formulating my next question when he pulled into the school’s parking lot and answered.
“I never gave much thought about why I went up into your office. Honestly, I started working in there because I wanted to be close to you, get to know you, I wanted your attention but I wasn’t in a place where I knew how to ask for it. My house . . .” He parked and exhaled. “Is not a happy place. I can’t breathe when I’m there. When I’m at your house I’m at peace. I’m surrounded by you. Your place feels like home, mine feels like a jail cell.”
“It doesn’t have anything to do with it being the house you shared with Kayla?”
“It has everything to do with that.” Shit. That kinda stung. “It’s the house I shared with her. The place where my marriage failed. Where she and I had battled her cancer, where we worked out our separation, where I was happy, where I was unhappy, where she died. Why would I want to invite you to a house where there isn’t a place that doesn’t hold some fucked up memory.”
“But all your memories in that house aren’t bad. There were happy times there.”
“There were. While the memories were being made, I was happy. I lived with my best friend, we laughed and had fun. We goofed off, my sisters came over, we were happy.”
“Then I don’t get it. Other than the obvious. Why do you think all the memories are now bad?”
“Did you hear what I said? I lived with her as my friend. Not as my wife. I failed—”
“Bullshit. You failed nothing. You didn’t fail her, nor did she fail you. Sometimes things don’t work out. But you gave her the greatest gift in the world—your friendship. Do you know how lucky the both of you were to have that? There are so many people that never have a true and deep friendship like the two of you shared. Some people’s marriages end but they were never close friends in the first place, and things get horribly ugly. That’s not what happened with the two of you. Your friendship weathered the storm. You need to stop beating yourself up for things that were not your fault. I’m not speaking ill of Kayla, but she had a part in your marriage not working out, too. She was the other half of the equation that you want to sweep under the rug. I get it. I really do. But, Jason, enough. You’ve tortured yourself long enough.”
“I’m trying.”
“Shit. I know you are. I didn’t mean to—”
“Don’t apologize. One of the many things I love about you is you don’t pull punches. Please don’t start now. I need you to know, I’m letting go of the past. I’m moving forward. But there are things that are going to take longer than others to get over. Sunday when I was at the house, I was thinking it’s time to sell it.”
“Wow. You were?”
“My parents wanted me to move out immediately. But I couldn’t. And not for the reasons they thought. I wasn’t holding onto a ghost. I wanted to be punished and living in Kayla’s home was like a life sentence of guilt and self-reprimand. I don’t want to live like that—not anymore.”
“Good.”
“Got anymore questions?” His grin told me he was trying to be a smartass not a jerk.
“No.”
“Let’s go talk to Kimberly. When we’re done, I’ll drop you back at the office and hit the grocery store on the way home. Neither of us had lunch, and I’m starving.”
Home.
“Are you saying you’re cooking tonight?”
“Sweetheart, there are a million reasons why I love you. Cooking is not one of them.”
I tried to hold back my smile but failed. “Okay.”
I was still stuck on his home comment. Him acknowledging the fact I was a horrible cook didn’t faze me one bit.
21
We’d interviewed Kimberly Akins as gingerly as we could. Delaney was right, something had happened on the date she had with Derek Lowe, but she wasn’t talking. We couldn’t press because we were there under the pretense of talking her about the students who’d overdosed. Kimberly had been open and very emotional when we talked her about the students, but when we steered the conversation to the science club and the students who’d been involved in the after-school activity, she shut down and gave short answers.
When we left, Mercy had called Bruce and told him he definitely needed to be looking into Lowe. Even the moniker, the professor, fit with the dealer being a teacher. After Mercy finished with Bruce, I called Delaney and told her she was to stay away from Lowe. Completely. No more asking around. No more looking into the club. One hundred percent out of it. I pressed, she agreed.
It was after dinner and Mercy and I were curled up on her couch when she said, “Tell me something about your childhood.”
I thought back to all the family get-togethers, all the crazy shit my cousins and I used to get into, but there was one thing that stuck out. One event that had changed my life and had forever cemented my relationship with my dad.
“I was kidnapped when I was six.”
“What?” She sat up and stared at me with her mouth hanging open.
“So, you know that Jasper adopted me.” She nodded. “My mom was in an abusive relationship with a man who was also into criminal activity when she got pregnant with me. Her friend, Steven, found her beaten and at rock bottom. He packed her up and took her back to Georgia with him. During the drive she told Steven she was pregnant. He drove straight to the courthouse and married her the same day.”
“Wow. Where’s Steven now?”
“He was in the Army and was killed in action when I was a kid. I was kidnapped by a man named Liam Gains. He was the man my mom had run from.”
“Your real—”
“There’s nothing real about that coward. Jasper’s my real dad. And before Jasper, Steven was the man who saved my mom and claimed me as his son. Liam was never anything other than a woman beater and drug dealer.”
“You’re right. I’m sorry.”
I hadn’t meant to snap at Mercy, but even after all these years thinking about Liam putting his hands on my mom and hitting her made my blood boil. There were many factors that came into play when I decided to join the DEA; my mom’s brother, Brian, was one, and stopping men like Liam was another. Growing up I’d always known I wanted to be like my dad, I wanted to protect and serve. I just didn’t know how I wanted to do that. I’d assumed I’d join the Army like my dad and uncles but when my cousin, Nick, went into the FBI, I realized there were other ways I could serve my country here at home.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to cut you off.” I pulled her back into my arms and kissed the top of her head, stopping to inhale the soothing scent of her hair. It always smelled fresh and like flowers. “Anyway. When my mom left Liam, she took something of his. When I was six, he decided he wanted it back and took me in exchange. I was only with Liam a couple of hours, Jasper tracked him down to an abandoned hunting shack and came and got me.”
But in those few hours I had been scared out of my six-year-old mind. It wasn’t that Liam had physically hurt me, though I did see him hurt my mom when he took me from the car. When Liam dragged me away, I saw my mom bleeding and begging him not to take me. I wanted my mom. I wanted Jasper.
“Where’s Liam now?”
“Dead.”
Jasper had smashed through the door of the cabin, and, even at six, I knew he was not the same loving man that had made my mom smile, or the same man who’d played with me. He was an avenging warrior. He looked bigger that day—meaner. Jasper had told me to close my eyes, but I’d peeked. Watching Jasper slit Liam’s throat should’ve made me more scared, but it didn’t. That was the moment I realized there was nothing Jasper wouldn’t do for me. He saved me. He came for me. And he killed the man who’d taken me.
“Did . . .”
“Yes, he did.”
“Good.”
We both sat in silence, and I remembered what my dad had told me on the phone
the other day, there was nothing I’d gone through that my parents hadn’t already experienced. I’d thought about the parallels, and he was right. Jasper had lost his best friend, and the child she’d been carrying. He knew loss. He’d almost lost my mom, too, when he couldn’t get over the guilt.
Steven had scooped up my mom and married her, simply because she’d been his friend, not because he loved her. They’d lived together as husband and wife, but it had been a lie, they were only friends. Both of my parents knew what I’d gone through, in their own way, yet I’d pushed them away.
“Hey.” Mercy’s soft voice pulled me back to the present. “Where’d you go?”
“Sorry. Just thinking.”
“I gathered that. Wanna share?”
“Nothing to share really. I’m just happy to be sitting here with you. I hope you know there’s no place I’d rather be. I want to tell you everything, all my secrets. I want you to go back to my parents’ house with me for Sunday dinners. I want you to meet the rest of my family at the next get-together. I want to invite my family to our house for a barbeque. I want you to feel like they’re your family as much as they’re mine.”
“I’d like that, too.”
“Tell me about PJ.”
“You know how people always say so-and-so was a good person who just made bad choices?”
“Yeah, sure.”
“Well, I don’t think that was my brother. When we were kids, he was okay, nice to me, normal. But the older he got the less he seemed to care about those around him. Actually, he didn’t care much about anything. By the time he was in high school he was a self-absorbed ass. He was the one other parents warned their kids to stay away from. Something was just broken in him. My dad tried to help him, but PJ never saw a problem with his “I don’t give a fuck” attitude. Drugs were kind of a natural progression, I guess. I knew he smoked pot, did pills, but I didn’t know he’d gotten into the rave scene. The months leading up to his death were bad. My dad was at a loss, he tried to get him into rehab, but PJ would do his thirty days, get out, and then go right back to his previous behavior. I wonder if it was chemical dependency or if he was addicted to self-destruction. Tuesday was there, she saw it, too. She tried to help PJ even though he was older than us, but he shut her down and refused to let anyone in.”
“Damn, sweetheart. That’s rough.”
“It was. I never wanted my brother to die. And I was really angry at him for a long time, at my dad, too. But after my dad died, I realized that holding on to all the anger wasn’t doing me any good. Bad shit happens all the time. They were gone, but I wasn’t. Yet I was still allowing my brother’s behavior to affect my life. My dad’s need for revenge cost him his life, but it was his life to give. I had to let go and move on. There wasn’t any other viable option. I was alone in the world and if I didn’t do it, no one was going to do it for me.”
Mercy’s strength and determination impressed me, but it also served as a reminder she was so much stronger than me. I’d wallowed in self-pity for so long, I’d stopped living. I’d gone through the daily routine of getting up and going to work but I was empty. Hollow. Numb. I’d thought that was the way my life was meant to be but, now, I realized I’d been a cowardly prick.
“How’s Tuesday?” I asked, trying to move the conversation to something less heavy.
“She’s good. Having fun in Germany. She sent me an email yesterday. She’ll be back next week.”
“Fashion show, right?”
I remembered Mercy telling me Tuesday was going to Italy then Germany for work. I thought she said fashion show but it could’ve been for a photoshoot.
“Yep. I hope you’re ready to meet her.”
Why did something so simple as Mercy wanting me to meet her friend make my heart beat faster? My vibrating phone cut off all good thoughts when I read the text that had come through.
DELANEY: I have a problem. Fucked up. Call me.
Now my heart was pounding for a new reason. My sister was in trouble. I immediately dialed her number and she picked up on the first ring.
“Hey, Dad.”
Dad?
“Where are you?”
“Oh, no. Is she all right? Which hospital?”
“What the fuck’s going on?”
“Okay. I’m having dinner with a friend but I’ll leave now. See you in ten minutes.”
Delaney hung up and Mercy was staring at me.
“What was that about?” she asked.
“I have no idea. Either she’s in trouble or on a bad date and needed an excuse to leave.”
“Does she date?”
“Fuck no.”
I stood from the couch and began pacing. I’d give her five minutes to call me back then I was calling my dad for reinforcements. Mercy watched, not saying a word, but the worry on her face matched mine. What the hell had Delaney gotten herself into?
Her time was almost up when she called me back.
“Where are you?”
“In my car. I screwed up. I’m so sorry.”
“Are you safe?”
“Yeah.”
Now that I knew my sister was safe, I couldn’t hold back my agitation. “What the fuck happened?”
“Can I come over?”
“I’m at Mercy’s . . .” I rattled off the address, and when my sister told me she’d be over in ten minutes, we hung up.
“Well?”
“Shit, Mercy, I didn’t even think to ask if she could come by.”
With a wave of her hand she said, “She’s welcome anytime. Is she okay?”
I was a damn lucky man to have a woman as good as Mercy in my life. She didn’t care I was bringing family drama into her home, she’d welcome my sister and whatever issues came with her. Her only concern was if she was okay.
God, please don’t let me screw this up.
22
After Delaney had made it over, all hell broke loose. Brother and sister had gone to war. Jason was pissed, not that I blamed him. He’d repeatedly asked Delaney to stay away from Derek Lowe. Yet she’d wound up sitting across from him at dinner after he’d caught her following him. Now we were fucked.
Apparently, Delaney had been minding her own business at the grocery store when she saw Derek. He’d been on his phone, and she’d overheard him saying there’d be enough for Friday and he was going to go pick it up. Instead of calling Jason and telling him what she’d heard, she’d decided to follow him. Not knowing he was going to a storage facility that was at the end of a dead-end road. Once she’d been behind him at the gate to enter the fenced-in building, she was stuck. When Derek had looked in his rearview mirror and saw her, she panicked and followed him through the gate. At least she was smart enough to come up with a story on the fly and told him she had a unit there, too. Then she’d had to make an excuse that she’d left the right key at home. Stuck in a bad situation when he asked her to dinner, she’d agreed.
Texting Jason and having him call with a made-up emergency had been the smartest thing she’d done. Jason had gone bananas. He’d been furious with her, and it hadn’t mattered how many times she said she was sorry, it had done no good. I’d felt bad for Delaney, but she’d put herself in serious danger. We still didn’t know what happened to Kimberly Akins, but at this point, if I had to guess, I’d say Derek had slipped her something and then taken advantage of her. How far Derek had gone, was up for speculation since Kimberly wouldn’t talk. But Delaney sitting across from the man that was smack dab in the center of a drug ring investigation didn’t sit well. Not for me, and especially not for Jason.
We’d called Bruce, and he was going to work on getting a search warrant, though it was going to be difficult. All we had was a hearsay conversation that could have meant anything. But the detective was going to do his best and try to push it through. It was well after two a.m. before we’d crawled into bed, with Delaney safely tucked away in my guest bedroom. I think she’d agreed without argument because she was freaked out.
This m
orning, Bruce had phoned and told us he’d called in every favor owed to him to get a warrant for the storage unit and Derek’s house. Delaney had also agreed to call in sick to work and stay at my house while the warrants were being served. The plan was to hit the house at five a.m. before Derek left for school. The storage unit would be hit at the same time by a second team.
We’d geared up and were following Bruce and his guys to Derek’s home address. The plan was simple. Surround the house and knock on the front door. He had no registered guns in his name, though we knew that didn’t mean shit. Just because we’d thought the search would be easy it didn’t mean we weren’t prepared for the worst. Jason had been stoic and silent most of the morning. One-word answers and even those were given miserly. Grunts seemed to be what he preferred in his current mood.
“Two minutes out,” Bruce crackled in my earpiece.
“Copy that,” I called back.
“You know she thought—”
“Don’t make excuses for her. We both asked, and she promised to stay away from him.”
“I know. But—”
“No buts. She got lucky. There’s no telling what he could’ve done to her. What if she’d taken a drink from her soda? What if she couldn’t have left, and he’d taken her home?”
We didn’t know if Derek had tried to slip Delaney anything. Jason was just going down the rabbit hole of what-ifs.
“What if, she gave us the break we needed, and we stop a new batch of GHL from hitting the streets? What if, because of Delaney, lives are saved? I know why you’re mad, I am, too. But, and don’t interrupt me, she was smart and got herself out of the shit she’d put herself in. She’s at home, safe and sound. Don’t spend the rest of the day playing out worst case scenarios in your head. No good will come from it. She feels bad. She knows she was wrong. She’s been properly chastised. You kicking the dead horse and beating her up some more just makes you a dick, Jason. Let it go.”
He mumbled something I’m sure would’ve pissed me off, so I didn’t ask him to repeat it. We were both dog-ass tired and getting ready to go into a high-risk situation. We both needed clear heads and to be on our game.
Finding Mercy: The Next Generation Page 11
