by LK Shaw
“Connor Black.”
A soft groan sounded on the other end. “Hello,” I answered again.
“Mr. — Mr. Black,” the young voice responded.
I bolted upright and swung my legs over the side of the couch. “Alex? What’s wrong?”
I heard another pained moan. “Sir, I need your help. Can you come get me?”
Jumping up, I quickly began gathering my wallet, gun, and car keys. “Where are you, son?”
I could hear his heavy breathing. “I’m down the street from home at the library. They let me use their phone. Please, hurry.”
I raced out of the house and into my car, breaking every speed limit rushing to get to Alex. Tires squealed as I pulled into the parking lot and found the closest open spot. I rushed inside, searching for him, hurrying down each aisle until I spotted him against the back wall, looking uncomfortable sitting on a cushioned chair. There were tear tracks on his face.
“Alex,” I said softly, trying not to startle him. He jerked at the sound of my voice. He turned his head toward me and, as soon as he made eye contact, tears began flowing down his cheeks. I quickly scanned him from head to toe, but other than the tears and a wince when he shifted positions, nothing was different about his appearance. I moved over to where he sat and dropped into the chair next to him.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, gently.
He sniffed and wiped his runny nose against the back of his hand, which he then rubbed across his pant leg. He took his time answering.
“I think my ribs are cracked. It hurts to breathe.” He shifted again, wincing in the process. The tears came faster.
I didn’t want to jump to conclusions, but I had a feeling I wasn’t going to like what he had to tell me. I opened and closed my hands to ease the ache that had settled in while I clenched my fists through his telling. My jaw ached from being clenched as well, so I wiggled it back and forth to ease the tension. “I need to take you to the hospital. On the way there, you can tell me what happened.”
“No,” he yelled, then lowered his voice. “I can’t go to the hospital. Can’t you just wrap them or something? It’s not like there is anything the hospital can do that you can’t.”
I didn’t want to know how he knew that. “Alex, you might have some internal bleeding. Your rib could puncture your lung. You need to see a doctor.”
He vehemently shook his head. “I told you, I can’t go to the hospital. If I was bleeding, I’d know. You said I could trust you. That you would help me.” He stared at me, waiting. He was right. I did say I would help him, but I struggled with making the right decision. He got tired of waiting and shook his head in disgust. “Never mind, I knew I shouldn’t have called you.”
He moved to stand up and gasped at the pain. He stood there for a second as he breathed through it. It was then that I made my choice.
“C’mon.” I stood from my perch and put my hand on his shoulder.
He shrugged it off and grunted. “I told you, I’m not going to the hospital.”
“I’m not taking you to the hospital. We’re going to my house. Let’s go.”
He stared, hesitant in believing my words. When I sensed his indecision, I tried again to put my hand on his shoulder. This time, he remained still.
“I said I would help you, and I will. But we can’t do it here. Now, are you coming or not?” I left it up to him. I could almost see the wheels turning in his head as he weighed his decision. With a short nod of acquiescence, he walked toward the front of the library and the exit.
Once outside, I pointed toward my car. Alex slowly lowered himself into the passenger seat and buckled his seat belt. I got behind the wheel and began the trek to my house. I didn’t push him to explain what happened. At least not until we got home. Once we arrived, I ushered him inside and directed him to the living room. I left him there as I went to the medicine cabinet to get the Ace bandages. Five minutes later, he still stood in the middle of the room.
“Take off your shirt so I can get you wrapped.” I instructed him.
Gingerly, he removed his shirt and tossed it on the love seat in front of the fireplace. I studied the mottled bruising along his left side that wrapped around toward the front and back of his torso. I gritted my teeth in fury. I knelt next to him and began the arduous process of binding his ribs. He hissed in pain I could relate to. I’d had many broken ribs in my childhood. A memory threatened, but I pushed it away.
I painstakingly completed the task, trying to cause the least amount of pain as possible. Once done, he painstakingly sat on the couch while I went to the kitchen to get him something to drink and some ibuprofen. Once he’d emptied the glass I set it on the coffee table. I sat on the edge of the recliner next to him, leaning forward with my elbows resting on my thighs and my chin resting on steepled fingers. Then I stared at him until he grew uncomfortable by my scrutiny.
“Now, tell me what happened.”
I waited patiently for him to begin. Softly, he began speaking. “I thought I was careful, but he must have followed me. I wanted to see her up close. Just once. I needed to know what she looked like, and if I looked like her. I told him I was going to the library, but I found some money he’d hidden, and I took the city bus into town. I walked around asking people where her street was until I found where she lived. Her address was in the papers I discovered after my parents died.”
My heart stopped at his words. He had to mean Bridget. I had a feeling this was going to be a long story. He took a shallow breath and continued. “I saw her leave, and she started walking toward downtown, so I followed her to this diner. I still had a little money left from the bus fare so I went in. She met a woman inside. I watched them for a while. Her friend kept glancing at me and finally pointed in my direction. She turned, and when she saw me, her eyes got wide, and I think she said my name. I only saw her mouth move. I got scared and ran. She followed me, but I’m fast. I could hear her screaming my name, but I panicked. I didn’t know what to do. He said he would hurt her. I didn’t mean for her to see me. I swear.”
When he paused with his story, I got up and refilled his glass of water. When I heard Malcolm had threatened Bridget I needed to control my fury. I didn’t want to scare the kid with the rage coursing through me. I’m sure my expression was ferocious. Once I had my rage under control, I brought Alex’s water out to him. He licked his lips before guzzling the liquid down. He kept hold of the glass and fiddled with it in his hands turning it first one way then the other. He took a deep breath and kept going.
“I raced all the way to the bus stop and caught the next bus home. When I got there he was waiting for me. He began questioning where I had been. I tried explaining I was at the library. He slapped me across the face and told me not to lie to him. He was so angry. He yelled at me that I was to stay away from her or we’d both be sorry. He grabbed me, I lost my balance, and fell to the floor. Then he began kicking me. I begged him to stop, but he didn’t listen. He just kept kicking. I curled into a ball, but it didn’t help. I lost track of time, but finally he stopped.
“When he was done, he walked into the living room like nothing had happened and just left me laying there. When the pain eased, I picked myself up off the floor and went to my room. I stayed there all night, hoping the pain would go away. I still hurt when I woke up this morning. I waited until he left, walked to the library, and called you.”
I had to keep my anger in check for the kid’s sake. I wanted to punch my hand through the wall. This kid, no kid, deserved abuse such as this. I needed Webber to come see Alex.
“Alex, I need you to talk to a friend of mine.” I told him.
“Who?” he asked hesitantly.
I knew this wasn’t going to go over well, but it needed to be said. “His name is Daniel. He’s a police officer with the Pinegrove Police. He —”
He interrupted me with a sharp shake of his head. “Hell no. You can’t call the cops. He said he’d hurt her. I gotta go. I’m going to be in so much trou
ble.”
Rage filled me at the thought of Bridget being threatened. “Alex, stop. Let us help you. He won’t hurt her. I promise. I’ll take care of her. But we need to talk to my friend.” I waited patiently as he weighed my words. I needed to get him to talk to Webber. Finally, with a slight nod, he agreed. I pulled out my phone and dialed the number.
Connor
Alex and I sat in the living room waiting for Webber to show up. While we waited, Alex asked me questions about Bridget. He wanted to know everything about her. I knew these were things he needed to hear from her, so I only told him superficial things. They could talk about the deeper stuff later when they finally met. I needed to arrange a meeting between them. I would figure out how to deal with Malcolm. Because this fucker was going down. Some way, somehow.
Thirty minutes later, the doorbell rang. I left Alex sitting on the couch as I went down the hall to answer it. I let Webber in and shared what Alex told me. I saw him clench his fists in anger. I knew the feeling. We headed back into the living room where Alex waited.
“Alex, this is Daniel.”
Alex still seemed a little belligerent about having to speak to the police, but he accepted the handshake Webber offered.
“It’s nice to meet you, Alex. Connor here filled me in a little on what happened, but I’d like to hear it in your own words.” Webber spoke softly and coaxingly.
For the next thirty minutes, Alex repeated the story of traveling to see Bridget and the beating he’d received upon his return home. Webber had pulled a notepad and pen from his suit jacket before Alex had started his re-telling, and on occasion, the detective would jot things down as Alex spoke. At one point, he asked Alex to lift his shirt to see the bruises so he could take pictures of them with his phone. Most of them were covered with the ace wrap I used to bind his ribs, but there were still some that were prevalent around the edges. When he was finished speaking, he sank painfully into the couch, exhaustion taking its toll on his already battered body.
Webber looked at me, and with an almost imperceptible nod, he communicated he wanted to speak to me alone.
I looked over at Alex. Fatigue and pain lined his face. “Why don’t you lie down for a little while, kid. We’ll be right back.”
He nodded and slowly lay down, closing his eyes with an exhausted, pained sigh.
I escorted Webber into the kitchen and leaned against the counter, waiting on what he had to say.
“So? What happens now?” I asked.
“With those bruises and with Alex’s testimony, I can open an investigation. The problem is, I’m worried about Alex. Once I open a case, Alex will be removed from the home while it’s conducted. Child Protective Services will be called in, and he will be assigned a social worker. They’ll see if there is another family member who can take him in. If not, the state will take temporary custody of him, and his social worker will find a foster home for him until Mr. Shipman is cleared of any wrongdoing.
“We’ll interview neighbors, co-workers, Alex’s school, and anyone else that might corroborate Alex’s story. If we can’t find any substantial evidence to arrest Mr. Shipman, Alex will be returned to his care. If Mr. Shipman is abusing Alex, then the abuse will just start over, only this time, he’ll take more care to hide it. I’m also concerned about the apparent threats that Shipman is making against Bridget. He could go after her, you know. Are you willing to take that risk?”
I studied Webber for a minute. I could see how Bridget would find him attractive. He was good-looking, had a successful career, and was probably a nice guy. But he couldn’t give her what she needed. I didn’t know if I could either, but damned if I didn’t want to try.
“You let me worry about Bridget. I’ll make sure she’s taken care of.”
He smirked at me. “Yes, I’m sure you’ll try. But know this. I’ll be waiting in the background, ready to pull up your slack. If she needs a shoulder to cry on when you let her down, I’ll be there. Just because I don’t know much about the lifestyle doesn’t mean I wouldn’t be a willing student were she to offer to teach me.”
Neither of us broke eye contact, and it appeared the pissing contest was back on in full-force. There was no way I was going to concede to this cocky bastard. There was also no way that Bridget would ever be happy in a vanilla relationship. I felt a minimal amount of relief at that thought. I stood from my position against the counter and walked past him back into the living room with a little nudge to his shoulder as I passed. Right now my concern was for Alex.
Alex was asleep when we returned. I just looked at him, seeing Bridget in all of his features. They needed to meet. It was past time. Since there was really nothing more to discuss with Webber, I escorted him out. He promised to be in touch after he spoke to his boss about the investigation.
I let Alex sleep for a little bit. When I accidentally made too much noise, his eyes shot open, and his gaze darted around as he tried to orient himself to his surroundings. When his glance landed on me, he relaxed.
“Sorry I fell asleep. How long have I been out? Did Mr. Webber leave?” he questioned.
“Yeah, he left about thirty minutes ago. Don’t worry about it. It looks like you needed the rest anyway.” I reassured him.
“What time is it? I can’t be gone much longer.” He sounded nervous.
“I’ll give you a ride home in a minute. First, we need to talk about something.”
Considering the bomb I’d dropped by bringing the cop here, the leery expression on his face was justified. “Now what?”
“You need to meet Bridget face to face. No more phone calls. No more spying and running. You’re hurting her, and she doesn’t deserve it. You need to start growing up.”
He hung his head, shamefaced. I let him absorb my words while I waited patiently for him to make his decision. I saw when he did.
“Okay. When?”
I silently congratulated him on making the right choice. “Let me talk to her. Arrange a meeting. She’s been dying to know what is going on with you and wants to make sure you’re all right. I told her about the bruise on your arm, but I think we need to keep this other thing between us. She doesn’t need one more thing to worry about. Especially when there is nothing she can do about it. We clear?”
He nodded in understanding. “Yes, sir. We’re clear.”
“Good. Now, I’ll take you back to the library. Then, I’ll follow you home and make sure you’re safe when you get there. I’ll hang out for a little bit. If something happens, I’ll be there.”
He sagged in relief. “Thank you.”
On the drive back to the library, I let him know I’d be in touch with him about the meeting with Bridget.
“Also, Webber will begin an investigation into the abuse. While he’s investigating, you’ll need to be removed from your uncle’s house. They’ll probably either place you in a group home or a foster home until they’ve finished asking neighbors, friends, and teachers if they have seen anything or suspect anything. I don’t know how long the investigation will last.”
Alex’s head whipped around and he ground out a sound of disgust. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done? He’s going to kill me or my mom now! Don’t you understand what I’ve been trying to tell you? He threatened to kill both of us if I told anyone. And there is no chance anyone would be able to tell the police anything. God, this is pointless and a waste of time to try and do anything about it. You’re only making my life, and hers, worse. I never should have called you.”
He refused to speak to or even look at me the rest of the drive. He had his seatbelt unbuckled and jumped out of the car, cradling his ribs, clearly in pain, before I could even come to a complete stop.
“Just leave me alone.” He started walking in the direction of his house.
I thought about calling him back, but there wasn’t anything I could say to him to make him feel better, so I did the only thing I could. I slowly followed behind him as he made his way home. Once he got inside, I waited in my car
down the block to make sure he didn’t need me, even though I noticed Malcolm’s car was missing. After an hour passed and Malcolm hadn’t returned, I left and hoped for the best. The threat of the investigation was leverage Alex could use if things got out of hand. He was a smart enough kid; he wouldn’t hesitate to use it.
Bridget
It had been the week from hell. I spent almost every day since Monday with the mother of all headaches. It all started on Sunday evening when Connor called and even though I pushed as hard as I could, he refused to tell me what Alex’s uncle was being investigated for. Then, on Monday evening, I got a call from my security company about an alarm going off at the store. Police had been dispatched when the security monitors showed someone had tried to break in through the back door. I met the police there to make sure that nothing had been stolen.
On Wednesday night, someone had thrown a brick through the front window so I had to close up shop for the next two days while it was being replaced. I’d barely slept a wink all week, especially after the phone call from Connor, who I hadn’t seen since Eden last Saturday.
I was stressed beyond my limit, and any second now, I was going to break. Not that I didn’t want to meet Alex, but I was so nervous. What would we talk about? How would I explain to him my reasons for giving him up?
We had decided on a neutral place for the meeting so we chose the city park. I got there an hour early but was a ball of nervous energy, and I couldn’t sit still. I traveled from one bench to the swings, back to another bench. I sat for five minutes before I bounced back to the swings. I sat in one and kicked my legs to propel me further in the air. Back and forth I swung, thinking about how my life would be different if I had kept Alex. I don’t know why I tortured myself with coulda, woulda, shoulda, but the thoughts snuck up on me at least once every few days.
