A Valentine's Loves (The Valentine's Trilogy Book 3)

by Sam E. Kraemer

  "Of course, Percy. Always a pleasure doing business." He nodded at me and then turned to Rodrigo and Juan. The three of them went into the building and closed the door behind them.

  I walked in front of the Senator to the car and looked around before I opened the door. There were at least ten snipers in the surrounding buildings I could see with the naked eye.

  Graham started to open his blow-hard mouth but I stopped him. "Get in the car and don't say a word. We have a lot of company."

  He climbed in and I walked around and got into the front, passenger seat. I looked at his regular driver, Rob, and nodded. He was someone I needed to get to know, but in the meantime, I had a lot of shit running through my head. I needed evidence before I could go to my boss with it, but I was off to a great start.

  Six

  Gray

  "Gray, I just got a call from the guidance counselor at Crawford Middle School. One of the students showed up in class with a black eye and busted lip and told his teacher he fell down the steps. The teacher reported it to the counselor, and we need to investigate. You ready? This is how these things usually start, and they can get ugly. You've been here for two weeks, and I guess it's time you see what you’re in for," Inez explained.

  We'd become friends, Inez and me. She was a lovely woman in her early thirties, and she was dedicated to the job. She'd told me when I met her about going through the foster system as a young girl and some of the things that had happened. It hadn't been a picnic, based on the few scars on her face, but I was guessing the ones on the inside were far worse.

  Inez gave me a loose outline of her experience with DCFS as a little girl 'back in the day', and she explained to me she would always do her job, but she was looking out for the kids we encountered first. She had a passion which drew me in, and I determined I'd follow her lead, completely trusting her judgment.

  "Sure, boss lady. Do we have any background?" I asked as I pulled on my sports coat.

  We went out to her old Neon, and I shook my head. "I'm not riding in that. We'll take my Explorer," I offered. It was parked a row away, and when she saw it, she smiled.

  "Well, what's your spouse do? Most of us government workers can't afford such a grand vehicle," she teased.

  I laughed. "It's five years old, Inez. I just take good care of it. To answer your question, my husband is in law enforcement. I can't really say more about it than that. How about you? Significant other?" I asked as I opened the door for her.

  She hopped inside and smiled as I closed the door. I walked around the other side and hopped in myself, starting the car.

  "What's your mileage?" she asked as she pulled a small notebook from her leather bag.

  I laughed. "Why?"

  "We get reimbursed. Tell me your starting and ending mileage. I'll show you how to fill out the expense report we submit monthly. We don't get company cars, but they pay for mileage, and every penny helps these days," she offered.

  I remembered reading about mileage somewhere in all the paperwork I'd been studying since Derek had been gone. He hadn't called, but I hadn't called him either. Nothing was wrong, and he knew I loved him. There was no need to bother him while he was working.

  I quoted the reading on the odometer as we left the parking lot. When I pulled out onto the street, I asked again, "Significant other?"

  She let out a heavy sigh. "Doctor. We were together for seven years before she decided she needed to go to Africa on a volunteer mission after she finished her residency. She was there for a year-and-a-half. When she came home, she'd been diagnosed with stage four breast cancer while she was abroad and did nothing about it. She was so busy looking after others she never looked after herself. She was home three months before she died. Not a day goes by I don't miss her and her shitty attitude," she told me with a quiver in her voice.

  I changed the subject. "Do we have any background info on this kid? Is this a first call?"

  She held up a piece of paper. "No background, not even a name yet. This is the first report for this child from the school. This is where we start, Gray. It's not easy to do this type of work because a lot of judgment calls come into play. We have to be on our game because sometimes, it's just the clumsy kid of a single mother who's working her ass off at a diner so she can feed her family. Every parent doesn't beat their kids. Unfortunately, it's not that simple most of the time.

  "The mother who leaves her four-year-old sleeping unattended at midnight to clean office buildings overnight with the assurance from her neighbor she'll listen for anything suspicious in the apartment next door is a sad story, but it's still breaking the law.

  "We can be compassionate and empathetic, but we have to keep in mind that if that shitty apartment building catches on fire while Mom's off mopping floors and old Mrs. Doe next door is sound asleep, four-year-old Janie might not know what to do or how to get out of the building alive. That's child endangerment and neglect, and there's no wiggle room.

  "You're gonna have to toughen up a bit and learn to ferret out the liars from the herd. They're easy to prosecute. It's the honest parents who are just trying to put a roof over their kids' heads and food on the table without any outside help from family or friends that are hard to stomach. They're good parents, but they still left their kids alone with the potential for harm," she told me.

  As we pulled into the visitor's parking lot of Crawford Middle School, I wondered what the fuck I'd signed up for with going to work for the State. Was I doing the right thing working for DCFS? I wished I had Derek to talk to about my unease over the situation because he had the level, analytical head in the family. He'd be able to help me make some sense out of the situations wherein I'd find myself on a regular basis if only I could speak with him.

  I took a deep breath as the two of us got out of the car. We met in front and Inez looked at me. "Look, kiddo, don't flake on me. We have to remain neutral until we get the whole story. The kid's gonna tell us he fell, and we'll have to evaluate him to see if we think he's lying. We don't want to bring an unnecessary case, but we have to remember if we make a wrong call in a case, the next time we hear about the kid might be that he or she is dead," Inez informed as she knocked on the door of the school.

  In light of so many heinous school shootings, it was mandatory schools kept the main doors locked during the day. A cop walked over to us and opened the door, stepping out before he let us inside. "Can I help you?" he asked.

  He was a good looking young guy, likely a rookie. I just smiled at him as Inez took charge, pulling out her badge. "We're from DCFS. I'm Inez Barnes, and this is Gray Valentine. We're here to see Rebecca Long, the counselor. She should be expecting us." Inez held out her badge to him and I held out the piece of paper they'd given me until my badge came in the next week.

  He examined them both and smiled brightly. "Ms. Barnes and Mr. Valentine, I'd be happy to show you to Ms. Long's office. I'm Officer Bryant. Please follow me," he instructed as he unlocked the door to lead us inside.

  We went down a short hallway and then to the school office. He led us behind a half-door to the counselor's office where a woman sat working at her computer. The guy knocked on the door frame, and when she looked up, she smiled brightly. "Hey Greg," she greeted.

  "Ms. Long, these folks are from DCFS. They said you're expecting them?"

  "Oh, yes. Please come in. Thank you, Officer Bryant," she told him. He smiled at her and nodded his head sheepishly. Seemed the two of them might have a little somethin’-somethin’ going on. They were really cute and watching them made me think back to when Derek used to come into the diner to see me when I was working. I really missed him in that moment.

  After the cop left and closed the door, she extended her hand to us. "Rebecca Long. You must be Ms. Barnes. I'm sorry we're meeting due to such a dark situation but if I'm right, it might be the best thing in the world for you to step in."

  Inez turned to me and smiled. "This is my partner, Gray Valentine. He's new to our office, but he's very insi
ghtful. Tell us why you think there's concern for the child, won’t you?"

  The counselor extended her hand for us to sit. I reached into my messenger bag, a gift from Derek after I got the job and removed a pad of my own. It was my first case and I wanted to be thorough.

  The counselor reached into a stack of files, retrieving one which she flipped open and glanced through before she looked up at us. "Rashad Vaughn is twelve, sixth grade. He's had a rough road. His mother went to rehab and then jail a few years ago, and the grandmother took care of him and a little brother while she was gone. Rashad became a straight-A student, played baseball, and sang in the church choir while he was in his grandmother's custody. He was a happy guy, and he was a joy to be around.

  "His mother got out of jail and took him and his little brother, Dewayne, back into her custody before school was out the previous term. Things were fine, but then, the grandmother died over the summer.

  "Since school started this term, Rashad has been combative and disruptive which just isn't like him at all. He's shown up to school a few times with bruising, and when questioned, he plays it off as he got hurt at a neighborhood football game or he fell into something. This last black eye ruptured some blood vessels in his eye itself.

  "His teacher, Mrs. Jackson, sent him to the nurse and she called me in as a witness. It's not a wound a child would get when there's a fall down some steps or a bad tackle on a football field. It's the type of wound one would get by falling into a fist," she explained. My stomach rolled, and I was glad I'd only eaten toast for breakfast.

  "Okay, can we have the address where he lives because we're going to need to talk to the mother, and how old is his little brother?" Inez asked.

  "Dewayne is seven. He's in second grade. I called his teacher, Miss Parker, to ask her about him. She said he doesn't show signs of bruising, nor does he seem to be nervous in the classroom. He seems to be a well-adjusted…even eager to learn…little boy, which makes me believe Rashad looks out for him, though she mentioned his attendance is an issue of concern for her. I have a bad feeling, Ms. Barnes."

  I tended to agree with her. In the situation she described, it wasn't uncommon for the older sibling to protect the younger…take the wrath and punishment if there is one, so as to spare the younger sibling the anguish. While it wasn't uncommon behavior, it wasn't any less troubling.

  When Ms. Long went to the classroom to collect the boy, she was told he left after lunch because he was ill. Unfortunately, we couldn't take the child into custody until we had more of the story, so we had to regroup and try again the next day.

  As we drove back to the office, I pondered the situation and came to a conclusion: Children should grow up like my niece, Sila…spoiled rotten and loved unconditionally. Anything less was unacceptable.

  ~#~

  That night, I sat at the kitchen table with the burner phone Derek had given me before he disappeared. I was eating a fruit salad out of habit, not really tasting it. I'd worked out that afternoon after Inez and I got back to the office, and every muscle in my body was aching. I was trying to spend energy the only way I could since Derek was gone, but my nerves were getting the better of me.

  We were set to go to the Vaughn home the next morning, and I wasn't looking forward to it. I'd sent Derek a text, and I hoped he could call me. It rang once before I answered it. "Hello?"

  I heard a deep breath exhaled. "Baby boy. What's wrong?" That baritone voice sunk into my soul. God, I missed him.

  "Can you talk? Are you where you can talk?" I asked quietly. I pushed the bowl away and walked into the living room. There was one lamp on, and it wasn't bright. I sat down on the couch and pulled the light throw cover off the back, pulling it over my lap.

  "I'm in the apartment, and I can talk. How are you? How do you like your job?" Derek asked.

  I began to cry, having missed the sound of his voice so damn much. I tried to hide it because I was sure the last thing he needed was to hear me being a big ole baby. "I'm good. The job's starting out as I should have expected. A kid in middle school with suspicious bruises. We're going to see his mother tomorrow. How are you? Are you being safe?" I asked.

  He chuckled. "You know I'm not gonna do anything to put myself in danger. I keep my eyes open and my mouth shut, baby boy. I should be home for good very soon, and I'll never allow them to put me on this kind of duty again, I promise. If they don't like it, then they can go fuck themselves."

  I nodded in agreement, even though he couldn't see it. I knew he couldn't tell me exactly what he was doing but he'd told me he'd be acting as a body guard for someone and he had to be undercover. It scared the fuck out of me. "I need your advice…" I told him about the case of Rashad Vaughn without sharing his name or location. I explained to him what the guidance counselor had told us, and what I thought was going on. I waited for him to answer.

  "What will happen to him and his little brother if you remove them from the home? I mean, is it much better if they go into the system? I've called DCFS about kids before when I worked in Houston, and they've ended up in worse circumstances than what we got them out of. I'm not saying they don't need to get away from the mother, but I'd look into options once you remove them. There are a lot of people out there who are foster parents and shouldn't be. Just be careful, baby," he finished.

  "I will. I miss you so fucking much. Any idea how much longer?" I asked. I knew I shouldn’t because I didn’t want him to feel guilty about his job, but I couldn’t help myself.

  Derek sighed. "It might be sooner than later. This guy…he's a piece of work. I can't tell you more, but I'm doing my best to get the goods and get out. I love you, Gray Valentine, and I'm so happy you took my name. I smile every time I think about it. Thank you for that," he told me quietly.

  I started to cry again, but I was doing my best to be quiet about it. "Derek, you get your ass home as soon as possible. I can't take care of this house, the yard, and the garden we want to plant, by myself. Remember, you promised me we'd plant roses like Mom has in Waco. I can't do any of that without you."

  I placed my hand over the mouthpiece of the phone as I sniffled. He had enough to worry about. I should be the last thing on his mind.

  "I'll do my damnedest, baby boy. I love you, Gray. With all my heart, I love you. Please be careful. There's a gun in a shoebox in our closet. It's a Cole-Hahn box and it's on top of the box with our wedding pants and shirts. It's untraceable…the gun, I mean…and there are two loaded mags in the box as well as a box of cartridges. Don't forget about it. If you get into trouble and I can't get there, get that gun, Gray. You know how to shoot it because I taught you," he told me quietly.

  I sniffed and pulled the phone back to my face. "Is there a reason I need to know where that gun is? What the fuck have you gotten yourself into, Derek?"

  "No, no. It's not that at all. I'm just thinking about your job, baby. Bad people do bad things. Just keep it in mind.

  "By the way, you'll get a letter from me within the next day or so. It's my wedding ring. I shouldn't have brought it with me because I'm supposed to be single, so I can't wear it. I don't want anything to happen to it, so I'm sending it to you. Please take care of it for me," he requested quietly.

  "I'll guard it with my life. I'll let you go, baby. I love you with all my heart," I told him, covering the receiver so he couldn’t hear my sniffling.

  "I love you, too, Gray. Be safe, baby boy." We said goodnight and hung up the phone which I held to my chest and continued to cry. I was pretty sure it was going to be a regular occurrence.

  I went to bed and held his pillow to my face. I hadn't changed the case on it, even though I'd changed the sheets. It didn't smell much like him, but it was the last place he'd laid his head, and I couldn't let it go. I wasn't looking forward to the next day.

  Seven

  Gray

  Inez and I parked in front of the apartment building where the Vaughn boys lived bright and early the next morning after confirming with the schools both boys
were in attendance. We’d found out from her probation officer that their mother, Rhonda, allegedly worked at a daycare center in the neighborhood, but when we'd dropped by the place on our way to the apartment, we were told by one of the other caregivers she didn't know the woman. That bit of information brought a look of concern on Inez’s face and a turn of my stomach.

  Based on what we'd turned up, the director of the place had vouched for her when she got out of jail so she could get her boys back before their grandmother passed. If she wasn't working there, she was trying to pull one over on her probation officer. If that person was fooled into believing her, they weren't keeping very close tabs. That didn't bode well.

  Her arrest record showed she'd been mandated to rehab and then jail in Dallas which was why her sons had been sent to Austin to live with her mother. Dallas CPS had ordered the children to be returned to the mother's custody after she'd completed her sentence, and we were awaiting a call from them and a copy of their records regarding home visits and observations of home life for the children. Unfortunately, they told us their case load was heavy, so we would have to act without full disclosure.

  After the grandmother's death, the mother had stayed in Austin with the boys. We should have been notified by Dallas CPS when she was given permission to remain in Austin, but again, they were all very busy. At the very least, it would have been a courtesy for her PO to call us and report her new whereabouts. Not surprisingly, none of those things had taken place.

  The neighborhood where Rhonda called home wasn't a great one. I looked at Inez to see her reviewing the background we'd been able to uncover on the woman. "I don't like the two of us going up to that door alone. If she's not working at that daycare, with her history of prostitution and drug abuse, I'm going one of two ways…dealing or hooking. Wanna lay a bet?" Inez asked.

  "Jeez. How have you survived this job so long?" I asked her.