Into the Dark (The Cincinnati Series Book 5) (Cincinnati 5)

by Karen Rose

  Gossips, all of them.

  Diesel chuckled, bringing her attention back to him. ‘I pity anyone who even tries to keep him from you. You have my cell phone number?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said simply, unwilling to admit that she’d memorized it long ago.

  ‘Then I’ll get out of here for a little while.’ He went into her office and closed the door.

  Dani rubbed her temples. ‘Jenny?’ she called.

  Jenny came out of the storeroom, a set of scrubs in her hand. ‘They’ll be a little short on him. They’re mine.’

  Deacon drew in a breath when he saw the clothing in Jenny’s hands. ‘Give me a minute. I’ve got a pair of Greg’s sweats in my trunk. He and Michael are about the same size. And they’re actually clean. His baseball practice got cancelled yesterday and he left his gym bag in my car. Does Michael need anything else?’

  ‘Thanks,’ Dani told him. ‘Just the sweats will be fine. And if Michael asks, I had them in my car, okay?’

  Deacon saluted as he headed out the door. ‘Yes, ma’am.’

  Her office door opened and Diesel appeared, a sniffling Joshua riding on his hip, the little boy’s arms tight around Diesel’s neck. ‘He heard Michael crying,’ Diesel murmured.

  Dani rubbed Joshua’s back. ‘I’m taking care of him, okay?’

  Joshua nodded, his face pressed to Diesel’s strong chest.

  ‘I’ll see you and Coach Diesel in a little while.’

  Joshua lifted his head, his face tear-stained. ‘You won’t let him go to jail?’

  ‘I’m going to fight my hardest,’ Dani promised.

  ‘That’s what Coach Diesel said.’ Joshua studied her hair solemnly. ‘Are you an X-Man?’

  Dani laughed. ‘I wish I were.’ She touched the white streak in her hair. ‘But I wouldn’t be Rogue, because she hurts people with her touch. I’d hate to do that.’

  ‘Yeah,’ Joshua agreed. ‘That would suck. She has to wear gloves.’ He pointedly glanced at the purple exam gloves she still clutched in one hand. ‘Like you do.’

  Dani sighed. She did have to wear gloves when she administered exams. That was standard practice. But she sometimes wore them while simply talking to patients as well, usually at their request.

  She knew the facts about HIV. She was a doctor, for God’s sake. She knew exactly how the disease was transmitted. She also knew that her levels were undetectable, that she was as unlikely to infect anyone as any other member of the population. But some of her patients weren’t so certain about her.

  It wasn’t a secret that she was HIV positive. Patients at the free clinic couldn’t afford to boycott her services, but many still recoiled from her touch.

  So I guess Rogue and I have something in common after all.

  She chanced a glance up to see Diesel studying her through narrowed eyes, like he was trying to figure her out. Good luck with that, buddy.

  She patted Joshua’s back. ‘You go with Coach Diesel, sweetheart. He’ll take care of you, and I’ll take care of Michael. I promise.’

  Cincinnati, Ohio

  Saturday, 16 March, 5.00 P.M.

  Michael clenched his teeth to keep them from chattering. He was so cold, even though the inside of the detectives’ car was warm. They had the heater on high, at Dr Dani’s request. Still, he shivered uncontrollably.

  He stared out the window as the buildings went by. They were taking him to the police station. To question him. About Brewer’s murder.

  Tell them the truth.

  God, he wanted to. But his hands were shaking, too. He shoved them in the pockets of his jacket and closed his eyes, misery overwhelming him.

  Misery and humiliation. And fear. They knew. The doctor had to have told them that his ass was bleeding. She was obligated. By law.

  He hunched into himself, wishing he could just . . . die. It would be easier. So much easier. They were going to say he’d killed that bastard Brewer and they’d put Joshua in foster care somewhere. The doctor couldn’t keep him forever. She was only an emergency foster parent.

  He jumped when Dr Dani touched him, a brief graze of her fingertips over his cheek. He turned to look at her, focusing on her mismatched eyes. ‘What?’ he voiced. He knew he sounded snarky and ungrateful.

  She smiled at him. Sweetly. Not meanly. Not like his mother did. Dr Dani’s smile made him want to believe her. He slowly drew his right hand from his pocket.

  ‘Sorry,’ he signed.

  ‘It’s okay,’ she signed back. Her mouth wasn’t moving at all. ‘I don’t want you to sign anything or say anything when we get there. There will be reporters outside the police station. Probably cameras. They’re not waiting for you specifically. They’re waiting for a statement from the cops on the body that was found this morning, but they may take pictures and video of you. You’re a minor, so they most likely won’t use the photos or your name, but you never can tell about the media these days. They’ll want to provoke us into saying something, especially when they see Deacon and Adam. Do not respond to them. Do not make eye contact. Don’t even sign to me. Nothing will be private until we get to an interview room. Got it?’

  He nodded, huffing out a choked breath. Most likely? He could end up on TV and then everyone would know he’d been accused of murdering his piece-of-shit stepfather. But he’d worry about that later. For now, he was too terrified about being dragged off in handcuffs. ‘Are they going to put me in jail?’

  ‘No. They don’t have any evidence. Right now they have your stepfather’s body, your mother’s accusation, and the gun you hid under your pillow.’

  ‘How do you know?’

  She tilted her head. ‘Did you do it?’

  ‘No.’ He snapped the sign.

  ‘Did you ever fire that gun?’

  ‘No.’

  She looked like she wanted to ask more questions, but the car was slowing down. And stopping. In front of the police department.

  Michael stared at the neat lettering at the front of the building. CINCINNATI POLICE. They were going to put him in jail. With real criminals. Who’d . . . He choked out a sob as his gut roiled.

  He hunched tighter into himself. God. ‘I’m going to throw up.’

  Dr Dani wrapped her fingers around his wrist, pressing his pulse point gently with her thumb until he turned his head to look up at her. ‘No, you’re not going to throw up,’ she signed with her free hand. ‘You’re going to breathe with me. Just like we did before. Okay?’

  He nodded, too scared to refuse. She put her hand on her chest, lifting and lowering it as she breathed deeply. Within a few breaths he was matching her rate and she let go of his wrist.

  ‘Better?’ she asked.

  He blinked at her. He was still terrified, but he no longer felt like he’d hurl. At least there’s that. ‘A little.’

  ‘Okay. I saw about twenty reporters waiting outside the police department. They’re going to be yelling at you and you might see flashes of light from their cameras. You’re not going to look at them. You’re going to keep your hands in your pockets until we get inside. You’ll go through a metal detector inside the door, and they’ll tell you to take your hands out of your pockets. Detective Kimble told them you were coming and that you’d have an interpreter, so nobody’s going to get in your face inside.’

  ‘Will it be the same woman as before?’

  ‘No, she had to go to another appointment. But I know this interpreter and he’s nice, too. He’s interpreted for my brother a few times. He’s one of the only interpreters in the city certified to interpret in legal situations. He’s good.’

  Not the same woman. That’s good. But a man? Shit. At least this guy didn’t know. Not yet, anyway. ‘Okay.’

  ‘When you’ve gone through the metal detectors, you put your hands back in your pockets. You have no privacy until we get to the interview room. Go
t it?’

  He nodded. ‘Yeah. No privacy.’ He was used to that.

  She stuck her hand into her big purse and pulled out two baseball caps – one had the Bengals logo, the other the Cincinnati Reds. She handed him one. ‘Put this on. Keep your head down. Lobby security will make us take our caps off but until then, let’s not make it easy for these reporters to take pictures of you, okay?’ She twisted her long hair into a knot and put her cap on over it, hiding the white streaks in her hair. ‘I’m recognizable. I don’t want anyone tracking you to my house afterward, because that’s where we’ll be going. Got it?’

  He nodded and put his own cap on. He hoped she was right, that they’d be going to her house. Please don’t let them put me in jail. Please.

  One of the men in the front must have said something to her, because she nodded. ‘We’re ready.’

  It was just like Dr Dani had said, from the moment they got out of the car until they were through the metal detector. Reporters and flashing lights. He kept his head down and put one foot in front of the other.

  Don’t throw up. Don’t throw up.

  A guy about thirty years old was waiting just inside the door and quickly introduced himself as Andrew, the interpreter. He smoothed the way, going through the metal detector first, then standing where Michael could see him as he interpreted the officer’s instructions.

  It was . . . calm. The reporters outside had been yelling. He hadn’t heard them, but he could see their mouths and their faces. He’d seen enough yelling people in his life to know. They had taken video and film, but Dr Dani never left his side, her hand on his back the whole way. Detective Kimble had walked on Michael’s left, Agent Novak on the doctor’s right. Protecting him. All of them had protected him.

  At least no one had gotten in his face. Nothing freaked him out faster than people getting in his face.

  Unless it was seeing his stepfather being murdered.

  Tell them. The words chanted in his mind with every step he took through the hallways that seemed endless, walking past cops who turned to watch as he was escorted toward the interview room.

  No. He looked around him frantically. He needed a restroom. Because he was feeling like he was going to throw up again. But Dr Dani put her hand on his good shoulder, squeezing until he glanced up at her.

  They’d stopped outside a doorway that looked like all the other doorways they’d passed. ‘Breathe,’ she mouthed, her hand on her chest.

  Once more he breathed with her until he felt better. He started to take his hand from his pocket to tell her that he was okay, but remembered what she’d said and shoved it back in. She gave him a nod of approval.

  Detective Kimble pointed to a door at the far end of the hallway. ‘That’s where we’re going.’

  It was another hundred feet. It felt like a thousand, even with Dr Dani’s hand on his back. Don’t let them put me in jail. Please.

  He’d heard stories of what happened to deaf kids in lockup. No one could communicate with them, no one would protect them. They couldn’t hear who was coming and got beaten up. Or worse.

  By the time Detective Kimble opened the door to the interview room, Michael was shaking so hard he could barely walk. Dr Dani helped him to a chair and knelt in front of him so that she was directly in his line of sight. He dragged his trembling hands from his pockets, shoved them through his hair. The tug on the bandaged stitches made him wince as he held his head in his hands. He was rocking himself and he hadn’t even planned to. He couldn’t make himself stop.

  ‘You’re scared,’ she signed. ‘I get it. But you’re making yourself sick.’ She squeezed his knees lightly. ‘Can you trust me?’

  He blinked away tears. ‘I’m so scared,’ he voiced, his fingers clutching his hair.

  Gently she took his hands from his hair and put them in his lap. ‘You have pretty hair, Michael. Don’t yank it out or you’ll look like Coach Diesel after all.’

  He snorted a shocked laugh, which was probably what she’d been going for, because she smirked before looking over her shoulder. Sitting at the table were Miss Maddie, the social worker, Andrew the interpreter, and a man he’d never seen before. About Coach Diesel’s age, he thought, but dressed in a suit that had an actual vest. With a pocket watch chain.

  ‘Who is that?’ he asked Dr Dani.

  ‘Your lawyer. His name is Rex Clausing.’ She spelled out the name carefully. ‘He’s a friend of Coach Diesel’s. Diesel says you can trust him.’

  ‘Do you know him?’

  ‘No. I’ve never seen him before.’

  Michael frowned. ‘Then how do you know who he is?’

  ‘Because he said his name when we came in.’

  When she’d looked over her shoulder at him. Okay. That made sense. But the man did not look like a friend Coach Diesel would have. Coach was big and rough and looked like he should be in a motorcycle gang or lifting weights in a sweaty gym. The lawyer – Rex Clausing – looked like a professor.

  He was too neat. Too smart-looking. Too . . . something that Michael didn’t trust.

  Dr Dani squeezed his knees again to get his attention. ‘What?’ she asked. ‘Your face went pale.’

  ‘What do I have to tell him?’

  Dr Dani’s expression softened. ‘You tell him everything that you can.’

  Michael swallowed, glancing over at the lawyer again before returning his focus to the doctor. ‘I can’t.’ He leaned forward and she shifted so that no one could see what he signed. Giving him privacy. ‘He’ll think I did it. He’ll think I hated Brewer because . . .’ He swallowed again. ‘You know.’

  ‘I know. But he can’t protect you if he doesn’t know. I’ll stay with you.’

  ‘What about the cops? Don’t I get to talk to the lawyer without them first?’

  Dani’s lips curved. ‘You watch TV cop shows, too, huh? They’re going to leave so that you can talk to Mr Clausing. In private.’

  He glanced again at the lawyer, who sat patiently. He looked calm.

  But I still don’t like it. I don’t trust him. I can’t trust him.

  ‘He’s too fancy to be Coach Diesel’s friend.’

  Dr Dani’s eyes widened. ‘What? No, honey. Coach has all kinds of fancy friends. Some of his best friends are super-rich.’

  ‘Can you ask him again? Please? Make sure this guy is who he says he is.’

  Dr Dani hesitated. ‘Do you want Coach here with you when you talk to the lawyer? Would that make you feel better?’

  Michael wanted to say no. He didn’t want Coach to know. He didn’t want anyone to know. He was surrounded by people he’d never met before this afternoon and they were expecting him to trust them. Just like that.

  He wanted to trust them. He really wanted to. But if they put him in jail, Joshua would be alone. Coach had helped them. He’d taken care of Joshua.

  He made Michael feel safe.

  He jerked a nod, blinking back new tears. Dammit, he hated to cry. Especially in front of all these cops. ‘But he’s with Joshua. I don’t want Joshua here. Not in the police station.’

  ‘I agree. Let me see what I can do.’

  Michael dropped his chin. ‘They’ll be mad if they have to wait. The lawyer might leave.’

  ‘I think they can all wait a little while longer. I’m more worried about you. You need to be able to think and communicate. And you can’t do that if you’re afraid.’

  Michael nodded slowly. ‘Okay. Call him. Please?’

  She stroked his cheek and he leaned into her touch. ‘I will. Right now.’

  Six

  Cincinnati, Ohio

  Saturday, 16 March, 5.10 P.M.

  Marcus O’Bannion leaned against Diesel’s desk in his office at the Ledger. ‘He’s a cute kid.’

  Diesel looked up from his computer screen to check on Joshua, who sat at the work tab
le between their office manager, Gayle, and Marcus’s wife, Detective Scarlett Bishop, who worked with Adam and Deacon. The work table was normally cluttered with printouts, maps, competitors’ newspapers, and coffee cups, but today it was covered with puzzles and pages from the coloring books Marcus and Scarlett had bought for Joshua.

  Diesel smiled when Joshua grinned at something Scarlett said. The boy had cried all the way from the free clinic to the Ledger office, but Gayle’s grandmotherly hugs – and the candy she’d given him – had distracted him just enough. Then Marcus and Scarlett had arrived with enough toys and candy for six children. That Joshua had met Scarlett earlier that afternoon put him further at ease.

  ‘You’re spoiling him,’ Diesel said, but he could hear the warmth in his own voice. ‘Thanks, man.’

  Marcus clapped him on the shoulder. ‘You’re welcome. I had to put back half the stuff Scar put in the cart. She’s practicing.’

  Diesel frowned. ‘Practicing what?’

  Marcus was staring at his wife, a sappy expression on his face. ‘Mothering.’

  It took Diesel a full second, and then he pushed to his feet and grabbed Marcus in a bear hug, lifting him until only his toes touched the floor. ‘Oh my God. That’s . . .’ He let his friend go, gripping his arms so that he could make eye contact. ‘Wonderful. Absolutely wonderful.’

  Marcus smiled and Diesel’s heart squeezed. His friend’s smiles had been a rare occurrence before meeting Scarlett Bishop. Now, they were a daily given. A daily gift. He and Marcus had been through a lot together since they’d met in boot camp. War had made them brothers, but the years after had made them the best of friends.

  Unfortunately, there were things even best friends didn’t tell one another. He didn’t think Marcus would think any differently of him if he knew about his childhood. About the abuse he’d endured. But Marcus had a past of his own and there was no way Diesel was adding to his friend’s load.

  And now? Even more of a reason. Marcus was going to be a dad. Time to put all the dark years behind them and start fresh. Children were one of the best reasons to live in the light.