by Dianna Love
He covered his eyes with the palm of his hand, muttering something through his clenched jaw.
Lucinda blurted out, “What are you doing home now? Where’s Janeen?” She struggled to pull the scene together in her mind and come up with anything besides the first explanation for her child’s terror. As a single mom, her biggest fear had been dealing with so many babysitters and caregivers who might hurt her child. But she’d stopped worrying about that since marrying Stan.
She’d been paranoid for so long. Had she gotten too comfortable and let her guard down too soon? If so, that would mean...Stan had...
Not Stan. He wouldn’t hurt her child. She was embarrassed at the direction her mind had gone. She lived in a constant state of anxiety with Kelsey, but even accidentally thinking that way about Stan was wrong.
Lucinda trusted Stan with her life.
With her daughter’s life.
Her question finally sank in because Stan was frowning at her now, looking at her like she had three heads.
“This is my home, Lucinda. It’s where I come to decompress…or try to. Thought you’d be glad I came by early.” That last part had come out gritty and irritated.
She rephrased her question. “What I mean is that you have so much work to do I’m surprised...to see you this early.” She clamped her mouth shut to keep from rambling like an idiot. Stan had said many times about employees that he couldn’t tolerate idiots.
He dropped his hand from his eyes, stretching his fingers from where they’d fisted. “Why should we pay a babysitter to stay with Kelsey once I get home?”
Lucinda had no answer to that, but Stan had been the one to suggest a regular babysitter when she’d first married him so that they’d have a person Kelsey was comfortable with when they needed a night out. Now that she thought about it, he’d been popping in more often recently. Kelsey’s sniffling broke Lucinda’s heart and scared her.
“Why are you so angry, Stan?” she said with as calm a voice as she could muster. His face was actually red, and his hands had curled into fists again.
Stan took two steps toward her and Lucinda backed up a step then stopped.
She’d fought to keep her and Kelsey fed and clothed on her own before marrying him. Fighters didn’t back down.
But what was she fighting him about? The babysitter?
Stan’s voice went dead flat. “So now you’re afraid of me?”
The sadness in his voice broke her heart.
“No, honey, of course not.” More than anything, Lucinda wanted to get to her child and comfort her. Arguing with Stan in front of Kelsey wasn’t helping her daughter.
Kelsey hid in the smallest places if she got upset. Lucinda had thought she’d lose her mind the last time she’d spent half a day hunting for her child. She’d almost called the police before she’d found Kelsey inside a pantry cabinet.
Nobody in the media wanted that kind of attention, especially Stan, so she’d kept a closer eye on Kelsey since then. He didn’t need anything else to add to his stress and frustration right now.
Lucinda didn’t care if the babysitter went home early. This whole moment was spiraling out of control and it was her job to calm everyone down so she could get Kelsey in her arms and assure her baby that everything would be okay. Just as Lucinda had so many nights when she’d had no one else to turn to as a young widow. “I’m worried about both of you. I was just rattled hearing her cry out. I didn’t mean to annoy you further.”
Stan let out a heavy breath, looked away then back at her with guilt-filled eyes. He raked a hand through his thick golden hair and kept his voice low. “Ah, hell. Look, I’m sorry, too. I’m not angry with you or Kelsey. I just wanted to hug her and she backed away.”
Her heart tripped at the pain in his voice and she wanted to hear what else he had to say, but first she had to see about Kelsey. “Can you give me a minute to check on her?”
When he just nodded glumly, she stepped around the bed to her daughter. “Come here, sweetheart.”
“Go away.” The tears poured down her baby’s face.
Lucinda took a step forward.
“Go! Away!” Kelsey rolled into a ball.
“Okay, it’s fine. You can stay there.” Lucinda lifted her hands in surrender and backed up then she motioned for Stan to step out into the hallway. She had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from crying herself. Stan didn’t need a weepy woman on top of this at the moment.
He started in the minute they were clear of the bedroom. “I really am sorry. Just try to understand. It’s been a long week at work. The damn ratings are yo-yoing, we just lost one of our best salespeople to a competitor, and the anchor’s demanding too much money to re-up his contract. We may lose him.”
When he paused, she kept silent, not sure what to say after witnessing his unusual outburst of anger.
Shaking his head at some inner thought, he said, “Anyhow, I only came home to pick up some papers. After Father John said to spend more time with Kelsey I figured I could stay here until you got home from shopping and let the sitter go early. When I went into Kelsey’s room and tried to hug her, she backed up dragging that damn blanket and fell over the tail of it. So I picked her up by her arms. She started yelling at me and crying. I hate to see her afraid. I hate to hear her cry and that...on top of everything that happened today, I just lost it.”
She’d watched Stan handle the pressure from work over the three years she’d been married to him, but the past four months had been really rough due to the hammered economy.
Added to that was Kelsey’s problems that had started twelve weeks ago.
If she looked at it from his side, the man wasn’t getting any break at work or home.
Stan’s hand moved from his hair to his neck. “I told you about that lunatic woman I married the first time.”
“Only that you were married for like seven months and didn’t know she was on medication when you met her.” She hoped he wasn’t comparing her to the crazy woman he’d been wedded to almost ten years ago. “What’s she got to do with this? Us?”
He kept his voice low. “There was a lot more to it than I’ve ever shared. I’d come home back then and say one wrong word that would send her into hysterics. She’d cry and scream for days. It was awful. I didn’t know what to do for her.”
Just like he didn’t know what to do with a child who had developed emotional problems overnight.
As if hearing her thoughts, he added, “I don’t want to make a mistake with Kelsey and miss something that would help. She started crying today and I guess I just snapped. I shouldn’t have tried to deal with her like this after the day from hell.”
Now Lucinda felt like an inconsiderate wife for jumping to unkind conclusions. What was wrong with her? She’d have to confess to Father John that she’d taken such a wrong mental leap about her own husband. Lifting her hand to his cheek, she kissed him on the lips.
“I understand, sweetheart.” She matched his soft tone. “I’m sorry I yelled, too.”
He cupped her hand to his lips and kissed her fingers then met her gaze with pain-filled eyes. “I kept trying to convince myself I could find a way to fix the problem with my first marriage. But she was psychotic and drove the car through the front wall of the house. Almost killed her and would have killed me and a neighbor’s child if I hadn’t just stepped outside a minute before to talk to him about mowing the yard.”
Lucinda was speechless. She had no idea why Stan would ever have married again. “I’m so sorry you went through that.”
“I just wished I had signed the papers to admit her to a mental health facility. Everyone tried to get me to do it. But, I couldn’t even bring myself to talk to our priest about it back then. I regret the one time I was indecisive.”
He’d told her his first wife had died when her car ran off the road into a deep lake during bad weather. But Lucinda now realized Stan thought the woman had probably committed suicide.
She didn’t know what to say t
hat wouldn’t cause him more pain so she hugged him. Stan was a private man. His relationship with God might not be as open-door as hers, so he had nobody to talk to.
Lucinda told Father John everything that worried her. But now that she thought about it, could she really confess how quickly she’d jumped to an unfair assumption about her husband today? Especially to a priest she had to face outside the confessional booth?
When she pulled back, she gave Stan a little smile. “I’m fine. Go ahead and do whatever you have to do at work. I brought Kelsey some clothes to try on and some games I’m going to play with her. Give me a call if you think you’ll be late and I’ll hold dinner for you.”
He put his hand up against her cheek. “Don’t hold dinner for me, babe. We’re ordering sandwiches for the team. We need to kick up the ratings. WNUZ is becoming a real pain in my side. Go on to bed when you’re ready and I’ll slip in once I get home.” He gave her a peck on her forehead and the Stan Myers she knew was back. With a glance into Kelsey’s bedroom, he shook his head then strode down the stairs.
She gave it a minute, listening for him to leave. When the front door opened and closed, all the tension went out of her shoulders. When Stan came home tonight she’d be waiting for him with a bottle of wine and late night snack. All would be back to normal.
Lucinda tiptoed back into the bedroom and around the end of her daughter’s bed.
The look of betrayal on Kelsey’s face when she lifted her head ripped Lucinda’s heart apart. What was going on with her baby? “Kelsey, honey, want to see what I brought you?”
“No.”
“Did you hurt yourself?”
“No.”
“Want to play a new computer game with me?”
“No.”
Lucinda wished for the days when she had to hound her daughter to get off the computer and go outside for fresh air. Kelsey wouldn’t even go near the computer now, which was another disappointment for Stan. He and Kelsey had first bonded over a mutual love of computer games while Lucinda preferred reading a book. That had been his and Kelsey’s special time together. “I got you some new clothes and – ”
“No.” Her daughter’s pretty blue eyes were swollen from crying and her strawberry blond hair fell in limp strands around her shoulders.
Lucinda moved forward slowly. Kelsey had curled into almost a fetal position. Her lacy dress crumpled where she’d caught the skirt between her legs.
“Sure you didn’t hurt yourself?” Lucinda asked. “Want to show me?”
Kelsey shook her head, wrapped her arms around herself and started sobbing again.
Heartbroken, Lucinda reached down. “Come here, baby.” She started to hook her hands under Kelsey’s arms to lift her when her daughter screamed, “Don’t touch me!”
Chapter 14
Based on the vehicles crammed into the visitor parking lot in the spaces cleared of snow, it looked like a fire sale on meds at St. Joseph’s hospital. Riley parked his truck and started the quarter-mile walk to the emergency entrance.
A hike might take the edge off.
The hell with Kirsten and her damned high-horse attitude. Did she think she had the corner on right and wrong, just because she worked for the DA’s office?
She thought she knew what happened in Detroit? Only what she heard on sound bites sprayed across the country from every major station. She might have read the police report, but even that wouldn’t tell the story.
If she’d ever gone through what he’d been through she’d realize that. He paused his mental ranting. Had Kirsten been involved in a lost child case before, or lost a sibling? He hadn’t considered that. Dammit all. Maybe he was the one with the hair trigger today. Walking out of Kirsten’s office hadn’t helped anyone.
He sure as hell hadn’t charmed her as he’d boasted to Biddy.
Flashing red lights cut across his vision. A load of pain squealed up to the hospital in an ambulance. Medical personnel scurried.
He slowed, hesitating. Maybe he should let this go, leave the investigation to others. To do so would be admitting Kirsten had rattled him. Had him questioning himself, his actions.
Like everyone else, she couldn’t see past Riley’s news credentials. Yes, he needed a major story now, but he wanted Sally’s kid found more. If it came down to missing the story or endangering a child, there would be no story.
But people like Kirsten convicted him of having no conscience without seeing all the evidence.
They had no idea just how brutal his conscience could be. He saw that interview over and over again. Night had cloaked the two of them, alone in the woods, camera on a tripod, silently transmitting the live scene. Riley pointed a microphone toward the Kindergarten Killer who pointed a .357 Magnum at Riley in return.
He could still smell the crisp outdoors, the gunpowder and blood.
Everything moved in agonizingly slow motion at the point the Kindergarten Killer swung the gun up under his own chin and pulled the trigger. The explosion from the killer’s suicidal shot slammed against Riley, the trees, the ground, in deafening finality. Blowback of brain matter scattered in red droplets.
Then the silence. The empty, frozen silence.
And the sick realization that the chance of finding a kidnapped child had just died with the only person who knew the child’s hidden location.
The police found a note on the Kindergarten Killer that said the little boy had been buried in a four-by-six wooden box with only seven hours of air left.
Cold chills danced over Riley’s skin. He lifted shaking fingers to drag through his hair.
The Detroit television station had gotten what they wanted after all – ratings through the roof – but the story of the year had cost a mother her baby and Riley his sanity.
Standing outside St. Joseph’s hospital, he swallowed the sour taste of regret and pressed his mind back on task. Search for information that could help the police find Enrique Stanton first. Worry about the story next.
Stay out of the way of law enforcement no matter what.
Riley might not have been in Philly long but he’d built up a network of contacts, people who might know other people. The network wasn’t broad or deep, but he had a place to start digging for answers of what had happened to Sally Stanton the night she disappeared and was killed.
Unearthing information on Sally would put the police one step closer to finding her son.
When Riley reached the emergency room entrance, glass doors slid away to each side. Air bulging with antiseptic anxiety slapped him in the face.
Some people associated a hospital with the joy of a new birth or saving a loved one. The too-clean smell and hushed sounds would always remind Riley of human suffering.
Like now. He’d heard a couple of his sources were here, one of them injured. Riley had just given a name to the admission clerk when he heard a low shout of “Hot shot!” from his left.
Only five people called Riley that and all five knew each other. He’d found his source.
He swung a wry smile at Romeo, the street name for one of the tight-knit group of teenagers ranging in age from fourteen to sixteen that Riley played basketball with at least once a week in Northern Liberties. Romeo had on the same black, gold, blue and red Philadelphia 76ers sweatshirt Riley saw him in most of the time. Romeo and his team lived, breathed and dreamed basketball.
He asked Romeo, “Why’s Baby G getting patched up?”
With skin the color of cappuccino, almond-shaped eyes and tight black curls covering his head, Romeo ignored Riley’s question and swaggered forward. He came by the grunge look naturally, the legs of his oversized jeans dragging the ground. His thick-lashed gaze strayed to something more important than Riley – the ample backside of a tall African-American woman leaned against the wall talking to another female.
“Hello, you hot mama,” Romeo purred.
The twenty-something woman, who stood close to six feet in her four-inch heels, cut a you-can’t-be-serious glare over her shoul
der down at Romeo’s cocky grin. Full dismissal.
Oblivious to anything else, Romeo smiled as though she’d blown him a sexy kiss.
Riley sighed at the five-foot-eight teen whose mix of African-American and Mexican parents had rewarded him with an exotic face that fed Romeo’s oversized ego.
The kid’s no-limit confidence had sucked Riley in the first time they’d met. Riley had been on his way to visit the local Boy’s Club, like he did in every city, when he saw Romeo and his “team” playing on an improvised basketball court where weeds grew at will and a rusted wire hoop served for a basket. The five boys bounced a ball that should have stopped holding air a million dribbles ago.
Riley had left and returned an hour later in a ratty T-shirt, faded shorts and nasty sneakers for a pick up game. He got a resounding “no,” the same answer he’d received on his next six attempts.
Each time he’d hang around and watch them play.
When Romeo’s curiosity finally got the better of him, he gave Riley a chance to match up against “his team,” which Riley knew meant an opportunity to be knocked over, stepped on, elbowed and run into the ground.
He hadn’t been disappointed.
That had been four months ago. Now they gave him hell if he only showed once a week. Weather was no deterrent to them or an acceptable excuse for missing a game.
Romeo sidled up to him, every muscle in his body bragging he had something to offer any woman. “She’ll find me later.”
Riley lifted an eyebrow at him. “That might not be good news if she busts your chops with a sexual harassment suit.”
“That don’t happen to me.” Romeo broke out the smile that had probably saved him more times than his quick wit.
Romeo would continue in this same vein for as long as he had an audience so Riley changed the topic to what brought him here. He’d swung by the pseudo-basketball court and the other three on Romeo’s team would only tell him that Baby G had gone to the hospital.
“What happened to Baby G?” Riley asked again. He’d only recently found out that G stood for Ginormous. Any other kid his size would take up football instead of basketball.
