Surviving Emma

by Jen Atkinson

  “Answer the question, Taggart. Did you drive my daughter in that vehicle intoxicated?”

  “Hey, crazy,” he said, his words slurred and mocking. “Looks like your ride’s here.”

  She didn’t look back at me. She didn’t seem to know I’d come in.

  “I saw the empty whiskey bottle.” She slapped her hand against the hard maple of the bar.

  “Yet, you’re too dumb to figure it out? You’re still ask’n the question.” He’d swiveled around and faced her head on.

  I took one quiet step toward her, trying not to startle the bear she’d become.

  “You could have hurt her—” Emma bellowed before Taggart interrupted her.

  “She’s not that bright.” His eyelids drooped over his cold eyes as he studied her. “Looks like she’ll end up just like you.”

  “You stay away from her!” She shot at him, only feet away from her.

  I scooped her around the waist, her bony hips cutting into my arm. She squirmed and writhed, struggling to get away from me, but I backed up toward the door, holding her tighter as she fought against me.

  “I’m going to kill you!” she yelled as she shoved at my arm around her. She only had eyes for Taggart, though. “Kill you! You stay away from her. You hear me?”

  Taggart laughed as if it were all entertainment and turned himself back to the bar.

  The half dozen patrons had frozen in their seats, watching the scene playout. Behind the bar, Sal waved his hands at the others. “Shows over.”

  “Sal,” I called over Emma’s grunts and cries. “He’s done for tonight. Get him a ride.”

  The brisk air stung my cheeks as I hauled her outside. “Emma,” I crooned in her ear, her back to my chest. “I’m going to let go of you, but you have to calm down. You have to stop struggling.”

  She rammed her shoulder backward, hitting into my chest in answer.

  “Your daughter is awake. She can see you.”

  She whimpered at my words, her body slumping in defeat. “Dakota?”

  “She’s in my car. Let’s make sure she’s all right, okay?”

  She nodded and I released my hold on her. Her flight from my hold startled me and I watched as she sprinted to my patrol car. She threw open the door and crouched down. “Kotes? You okay, sweetie?”

  “Yes, Mama. I’m fine. Taggart asked me to go for a drive. That’s all.”

  “Get in,” I said, behind her. “Warm up. Talk to her.”

  She slid into the front seat next to Dakota, her small frame fitting next to her daughter’s without much trouble, and shut the door.

  I climbed into the driver’s seat, handed them a blanket from the floor of the cab, and shifted the car into drive. I waited for Emma or even Dakota to ask where we were going, but they didn’t. Emma held Dakota’s head to her chest, tears streaming down her cheeks like a bottomless faucet. I didn’t know what to do with the two of them, but I couldn’t let Emma go home and slaughter her father—no matter that the man deserved it.

  I pulled into the station, empty besides my Explorer in the parking lot.

  “What are we doing here?” Emma said in one of those rare moments where she didn’t sound as if she were about to bite someone’s head off.

  “I thought Dakota could use some hot cocoa. It was chilly in that car.”

  Emma bit her lip, her eyes filling with tears again. She nodded and the drops spilled over onto her cheeks.

  “Sheriff Pollock has a special machine just for cocoa, Dakota. Would you like to try it?”

  “Yes, please.” She rubbed her little hands together. She really could have been hurt. How long would it take for hypothermia to set in after sitting in a cold vehicle for hours? What had that man been thinking?

  The warm air of the station welcomed us. Dakota shivered and Emma tightened her hold around the little girl.

  “I can walk, Mom.”

  “I know.”

  “Kotes, could you help me with the cocoa?” I held a hand out to her, but Emma would have to set her down first.

  With a hand on her mother’s cheek, Dakota nodded. “Yep.” She wiggled from Emma’s grasp, giving her arm a pat, and walked over to me.

  I nodded gently, trying not to set off the bomb. “Hey, you should call Virgie. She was pretty much a mess when she called me. Don’t be too hard on her.”

  Emma smirked, a tight sarcastic grin—much more Emma-like—before pulling a phone from her back jean pocket.

  “Hey, that’s what I was going to say,” Dakota said. “Poor Virgie. She missed her telenovela.”

  “Poor Virgie, indeed.” I glanced back at Emma, her face had gone red and her fingers clawed around her phone as if it were Taggart’s neck.

  Emma

  “It’s okay, Virg. We’re both okay.” How on earth had I ended up consoling her? “Go to bed.”

  “Will Stink be over tomorrow?”

  “Yes, Dakota will be over tomorrow,” I said, running a hand over my dry tear-streaked face. I hadn’t cried in seven years—seven. Not full on crying anyway. I’d come close, but I’d never let something so dramatic happen, not even when Dakota had been born. When I found out I was pregnant—sure, I was seventeen and scared out of my mind. But never again after. I’d never let Taggart see me cry again. Or so I’d planned, until tonight.

  Virgie sighed in relief. “Tell her she gets two Pepsi Cola’s tomorrow and she can pick the station.” In other words—Virgie loves you.

  “Goodbye, Virg.” I hung up the phone, my insides still a scrambled mess. I needed to kick something, or shoot something, or punch something… I’d prefer for all those something’s to be named Taggart.

  “Here, Mama.” Dakota handed me a Styrofoam cup filled with hot chocolate. “It’s the perfect temperature. That jug,” she pointed to the counter where Andy kept his leftover donuts and coffee pot, “the white one, it stirs and warms your cocoa all on its own.”

  “Amazing.” I took a sip, but was too shook up to really taste anything. The cup warmed my hand though. With my free hand I went to take Dakota’s, but all ten of her little fingers were wrapped snug around her own cup.

  I had my girl. We were far from Taggart. Why couldn’t I breathe normal? If I could just… I don’t know… hurt him, I think I’d feel better. Dakota sat on a bench at the head of the room, and I sat down by her.

  This isn’t where I wanted to have this conversation, but she clearly wasn’t ready to leave just yet. “Baby, are you okay?”

  “Yes, Mama.”

  I put a hand on her elbow. “But you’re still cold. Are you cold?”

  “I’m—”

  “You should take her to the doctor.” Carter stood to the side, watching us. I’d ignored him until now.

  “Will you let me be my daughter’s parent?”

  “I just—”

  I stood, and with my movement Dakota slid so that her little legs stretched out on the bench, taking my place. “You just what?” I asked while walking yards away from Dakota. I wanted to yell at this man without causing too much of a scene for my daughter. “You just thought you’d swoop in like Superman and that would give you the right to Dr. Phil my life?”

  “Superman—Dr. Phil? What are you talking about?”

  If this idiot thought he could come in, not knowing a thing, and tell me how to parent, he had less of an IQ than I thought.

  “Superman wouldn’t have taken five minutes to jimmy-rig a door though. No, he would have torn the dang thing from its hinges and dropped Taggart off a cliff.”

  “I don’t think he would have dropped anyone off a cliff.” Carter shook his head, his face all screwed up like an idiot. “Wait,” he held two fingers to his brow, “are you mad at me?” He slid his jacket from his arms and lay it in a rolling office chair. He wore a form fitting black T-shirt beneath his coat instead of the uniform I’d always seen him in. “Because I didn’t rip your dad’s door from the hinges?”

  “No. I don’t know.” I shook my arms, trying to loosen th
is painful energy inside of me. I couldn’t get control—one minute I needed to punch Taggart, the next I had to be touching Dakota. “I’m just saying, you’re not some all-knowing knight in armor, so don’t think you saved the day and now you get to tell me how to parent. If you’d let me talk to her, you’d see I’m trying to figure out how she is.” I searched for the clock on the wall. “The clinic doesn’t open for thirteen more hours, anyhow.”

  “I think she’s tired.”

  I knit my brows, clenching and unclenching my fists. “You’re not her father. You don’t know any—” I stopped, hearing the low purr from the bench. I twisted around to peer behind me. There lay Dakota asleep. I faced her little form and crossed the room so I could stand right beside her. My one perfect creation.

  Carter slid in beside me and I jumped at his nearness. He moved past me to Kotes, picking up her head and moving a little pillow beneath her. Then he lay one of the dark wool police blankets overtop of her.

  “What are you doing? We can’t stay here.”

  A waft of mint filled the air when he faced me. He stood a head taller than me and the thickness of his arms made me do a double take. “Sure, I know that.”

  I shook my hands at my sides, still full of nervous energy. He may have taken his deputy shirt off for the night, but his utility belt still wrapped around his waist, a shiny black gun in its holster. My eyes lingered over the pistol. I hadn’t held a gun in a long time.

  “Can I show you something?”

  His voice broke through my thoughts and I eyed him warily.

  “Just while she sleeps. One minute. Then we’ll go.”

  “Umm…” Show me something?

  “This way,” he said, not waiting for me answer. He started for the back of the room and slipped through the open door there.

  “I don’t—”

  “It’s for Kotes.”

  For Dakota? I gazed back over my shoulder at my sleeping girl, then stepped through the door, but in the dark room I couldn’t see a thing.

  “Just here,” Carter said, but I couldn’t quite make out his face.

  Were there no windows in this room? The sky may have been dark already—it was January, but surely the moon should—clang. “What—” I went to ask, but then Carter turned on the lights, assessing me from the opposite side of a jail cell.

  Chapter 11

  Carter

  “What in the—” Hands on her hips she scowled at me. “Haha. Open that door.”

  I may have just put myself on Emma Sunday’s hit list. I didn’t smile and I didn’t mock her. I looked her dead in the eye and said, “You need a night to cool off.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “You heard me. I can’t have you hurting anyone, Emma. Cool off, and tomorrow morning I’ll—”

  “Let me out of here, you idiot!” She grasped the bars of the cell and shook until her face had gone a shade of strawberry.

  “I will. I promise. In twelve hours.”

  “Open that door, you stupid, son of a—”

  “Hey!” I said, cutting her off, my voice reaching the volume of her own yell. She went silent and I hushed my tone. “Quiet. Dakota’s sleeping.”

  “Yes,” she hissed, “and what about Dakota? You gonna leave her on the sheriff’s bench all night?”

  I shrugged. She looked comfy enough. “Yeah, probably. I’ll stay too, of course. I’ll be here if she needs anything.”

  “Oh, wonderful. What a genius you are!” She rolled her head and peered at the cell ceiling. “This won’t scar her for life or anything—her momma in a jail cell while her smashed grandpa roams free.” She gripped the bars, pressing her face between two as far as it would go, her eyes staring daggers at me. If she could have reached me, she would have strangled me.

  Hit. List.

  I left the jail room, hoping a little solitude would settle her down. Without my face giving her reason, she stopped her yelling.

  My stomach rumbled and I held it, telling it to be quiet. I hadn’t eaten dinner when Virgie called me, frantic. I lifted the lid on Andy’s jelly donut box, but only one sat inside. I didn’t mind taking it from Andy, but I couldn’t take it from the kid. What if Dakota woke up hungry? I’m guessing her unfit grandfather didn’t feed her before he forced her into a car with his intoxicated self.

  I’d want to kill him too, if I were Emma. I glanced back at the open doorway. I could see the first two bars of the cell I’d locked her in, but no Emma. She hadn’t made a peep since I left. Hopefully it would stay that way.

  I wasn’t a monster. What choice did I have? I saw the way she glanced at my pistol—I couldn’t have her hurting Taggart or herself in the process. My job meant keeping peace to the best of my ability. Besides, where would that leave Dakota?

  I picked up the phone and dialed Andy’s number to explain everything that had happened.

  “Well, if you’re letting her out at seven, I’ll be in at eight. I don’t want any part of that wrath.”

  “I had to do it, Andy. Should I have let her go home with that temper? Who knows what she would have done?” My voice rose and I jammed my mouth closed before peeking at Dakota, but she still lay asleep.

  “That’s not what I’m saying. Don’t matter. What’s done is done. I’ll see you at eight.”

  The line went dead. “Well, thanks for the support.”

  I made myself another cup of cocoa and crept along the tiled floor to the cell room. Dubois only had two cells, and I’d wager it had been quite some time since Andy had occupied either.

  Emma had slunk herself into a corner. Her knees drawn up to her too thin body and her forehead pressed against them. Her long and unruly hair lay in brown strings around her, so much that I couldn’t see her face at all. But her shoulders shook and I heard the whimper of a cry.

  “I brought you some more cocoa,” I said, looking down at my own cup. When she didn’t respond, I reached through the bars and set my cup down beside her. I stepped back, intending to leave, but I couldn’t take my eyes from her. I expected her to slap the offering over and yell at me—something ugly and violent. That was Emma. I wouldn’t call her ugly—or pretty. She had scrawny arms and a much too skinny waist with an average face and long unkempt hair. But mostly, she exhibited anger. And angry just wasn’t pretty.

  I backed up until my heels hit the wall, right next to the opened doorway. I peeked out at Dakota still sound asleep and slid my back down the wall until I sat on the same hard ground Emma sat upon. It hurt my tailbone and made my already knotted back stiffen up. But she sat there because of me, so I did too.

  Emma

  Deputy Idiot’s eyes were closed and his chest moved in even breaths.

  I stretched my legs out from the corner where I sat and glanced at the cold cup of cocoa sitting next to me. “I can’t believe I’m stuck in a cell, while Taggart gets to roam free.”

  Carter’s head whipped up, his eyes blinking. “Hmm?” he hummed. His brows jammed together in thought, making out what I’d said. “Dakota?” His tired eyes found me. “Emma?”

  “Yep,” I scoffed. “I haven’t exactly gone anywhere.” With my eyes adjusted to the one dim light bulb, I looked around the small locked space. I wrapped my fingers around the cold metal of one of the cell bars, then hoisted myself up, stretching my back and legs.

  I watched as he attempted to do the same, but for someone strong and young, he didn’t get up too quick. He held a hand to his back and grunted like an eighty-year-old man.

  “What’s wrong with you?”

  “A bad back and a hard floor—it doesn’t go well together.”

  I didn’t feel sorry for him. Idiot. “There’s a chair out there, you know. You’ve locked me up pretty well. I don’t need babysat.”

  “Why don’t you take the bed, get some rest.”

  The three inch thin mattress did not look comfortable. Sure, better than the cement ground, but not much. “Why don’t you let me out of here, and I’ll sleep in my own bed.”

>   He peeked out the door. “Kotes is sleeping. She’s barely moved. I don’t want to wake her.” His eyes slid to the bed again.

  “Puh!” I spat, nonsensically. “You still think I’m dangerous?”

  His brows rose in answer.

  A vein throbbed in my neck as I stared him down. But what else could I do? He wasn’t going to budge and I’d exhausted myself by crying my eyes out. My head ached and my body felt as if I carried a sack of sand on my back. Finally, I strode over to the bed. The flimsy mattress creaked under my weight. My chest shuddered from my recent sobs. Dang you Tag. Seven years. Seven tear-free years until tonight.

  I ignored Carter’s lingering stare and lay my head down, covering the lower half of my body with the thin blanket folded at the bottom of the bed.

  “We can press charges.” Carter leaned against the bars. “You should press charges.”

  Tears filled my eyes again. How could Taggart have done this? “What good would it do? He wouldn’t stay in jail.”

  “It would scare him. Maybe he’d shape up a bit.”

  “You don’t know Taggart, do you?”

  “I don’t,” he said, his fingers wrapped around one bar. “It wouldn’t scare him?”

  I scoffed but didn’t move from my place on the bed. “It would piss him off. I’d pay.” Which would be fine, as long as he left my Dakota alone. But after tonight, I couldn’t trust that he would.

  “Why do you stay?” he asked. I could have screamed at him, except his sad face revealed so much sincerity. For once, Deputy Idiot wasn’t mocking or accusing me, just asking.

  I swat at another bout of tears on my cheeks. “No money. Nowhere to go.” I rolled over, not wanting to look at his face anymore. I’d behaved so weak and he stood there watching me. Still, when I spoke to the wall I knew he heard me. “But one day he won’t wake up.”