Custom Love

by Chantal Fernando

“I’ll bet. Okay, show me this game of yours. I’m telling you now that I don’t like losing, so I’m not going to take it easy on you just because you’re a kid.”

  “I wouldn’t expect it any other way,” he replies, making me laugh out loud.

  He puts on a Mario game, the new one, not the one that I grew up playing, but I still think I’m going to be able to beat him. “I’ve been playing Mario since I was a kid.”

  I’m confident I hear him call me a boomer, but I can’t be sure.

  He beats me the first time, and then the second. “I’ve been going easy on you, too.”

  Great. “Well, I think it’s fair to say that I need a little bit more practice before I take on a pro such as yourself,” I say, smiling at him.

  “GG.”

  “GG?”

  He nods. “Good game. And you didn’t have gamer rage and throw the controller, like my dad does sometimes, so I’m very impressed.”

  I burst out laughing. “Trust me, I wanted to.”

  I end up staying there another hour before I leave, and as I’m walking to my car Trade pulls up in his truck.

  “Hey,” he says as he gets out. “Thank you so much for helping today. I couldn’t leave work and—”

  “Trade.” I stop his explanation. “It’s no problem at all. And they are a wonderful bunch of kids.”

  He looks a little sheepish, rubbing the back of his neck and grinning. “Thank you. They do okay.”

  “I’m going to go home and order a Nintendo just so I can practice, then come back and beat your son at Mario, though,” I warn him, grinning. “I got my ass beat several times.”

  “No one can beat him, so don’t feel bad,” he replies, laughing. “He’s a little hustler, that boy.”

  “I wonder where he got that from.”

  Trade smiles widely. “I have no idea.”

  “Anyway, I better get back to work. But if you ever need anything else, just send me a message,” I say, unlocking my car door with a press of a button and opening it. “They say it takes a village.”

  “Or a whole MC and their friends,” he replies, shaking his head. “I don’t know what I’d do without all of you. I owe you one.”

  “No you don’t,” I call out with a smile as I slide into my car.

  When he comes over, I roll my window down. “There’s actually something I wanted to speak to you about.”

  “What is it?” I ask.

  “I want to officially adopt Mila, and to do so I need to find her biological father and ask him to sign over his rights. Do you think you could help me locate him? I’ll pay, of course.”

  I nod. “Of course I can help you. Why don’t you send me an email with the information, and I’ll look into it.” Unfortunately tracking down deadbeat fathers is something I do regularly.

  “Thank you,” he replies, eyes gentle.

  “You’re welcome.”

  He steps away from my car and watches me until I’m out of sight. My smile falls off my face as I remember what I’m going back to my office to work on. I wonder what he would say to me if he knew I was also looking into Ariel’s case on behalf of Damon. Or the fact that I’m searching for evidence to have the case reopened. I doubt he’d be smiling at me like he was. In fact, I think he would be pissed, and hurt. And he definitely wouldn’t have asked me to help him.

  I remind myself I’m doing this for Marisol.

  It’s not an easy choice that I’ve made, and it’s Trade it’s going to affect the most.

  “Shit.”

  Chapter Four

  Decker arches a brow as he sees me walk back into the police station. “What now?”

  “Ah, come on, don’t be like that. You didn’t miss me?” I ask, batting my lashes at him.

  “Nope. Not even a little bit,” he replies with a straight face. “What do you want?”

  “I just wanted to say hi...and I also have a few questions about the case. Who was the first officer that responded?” I ask.

  “Officer Peters. Why?”

  “I’m just doing my job and covering all my bases,” I say, shrugging. “Is Peters in today?” I have heard of Officer Peters before. He’s an older gentleman and has been on the force for a long time. He’s not as nice to deal with as Decker or Banks, and he has a reputation for being a hard-ass, the kind of man who likes things to go his way.

  “No, he’s not,” Decker says, studying me a little too closely. “And he would have followed the correct protocol, Nadia. Everything would be on the case files. What are you getting at with all the questioning?”

  “Were you there?”

  “No—”

  “Then how do you know for sure what happened?” I ask. “Crazier things have happened around here than someone getting arrested for a murder they might not have committed. I just want to make sure, double-check even, that nothing was missed. Surely that’s not a crime?”

  So much for keeping everything close to my chest.

  Decker looks at me like I’ve lost my damn mind. “Okay, I’ll bite. Let’s just say, hypothetically, for whatever reason this guy was falsely accused. Don’t you think the jury would have picked up on that? They found him guilty for a reason.”

  I lean closer to him. “And what if that reason was convenience? Look, I don’t know what is going on, but something isn’t right. You ever had a gut feeling and know that you had to roll with it, no matter what the repercussions might be? That’s where I’m at right now. I don’t know the answers, but if you have any ideas, I’d love to hear them.”

  His jaw tenses and then he sighs. “Fucking hell. Look, whatever help you need, I’ll give it to you, but be prepared for the fact he might just have done it, okay? Sometimes, no matter how much we don’t want to believe that someone is capable of something like that, they are.”

  “I’m not sure they have the right man. I think the jury was given a bunch of evidence that made it look as if Damon could’ve done it, but I don’t think there was enough for beyond a reasonable doubt. I just want to make sure the jury was right, that’s all.”

  “Here we go,” he mutters under his breath, and he’s right. If they got the wrong man and we try to expose it, it’s going to make everyone look stupid, the police included.

  “Oh, and I forgot to tell you this—I went to see Damon, thinking he’d be begging me to help him. But he told me to drop it.”

  Decker looks like I have grown two heads. “Uh, isn’t that a sign he did it?”

  I clap my hands in excitement. I miss working with someone on cases like this. “That’s what I originally thought, but it was what he didn’t say that caught my attention.”

  “You’ve lost me.”

  “I asked him point-blank if he killed Ariel, and he never said he did it. He just said to drop it. Got real mad, too.”

  Decker just shakes his head at me, and I realize I’ve lost him.

  “Look, you’re right. There is a chance that Damon did indeed do this. I know it and I’m not blind to that. But that means there is also a chance he didn’t do it, too. I’m not saying this is a conspiracy or that the police did anything wrong. All I’m saying is that there is a chance there is more to the story. That’s all.”

  Decker runs hands through his hair and sighs. “You’re a real ball buster, you know that?”

  “Let’s not make it obvious—just have an extra look, listen a little more and see if anything feels off,” I say, glancing around to make sure no one else can hear us. “And if he did it, then all is how it’s meant to be and Damon can stay locked up. Maybe I’ve lost my mind a little. It was due to happen at some point.”

  His lip twitches. “So either an innocent man is locked up, or you are crazy.”

  “In conclusion, yes.”

  “My bet is on the latter,” he mutters.

  “Prove it.”


  He offers me his hand, and I pump it and then leave. With Decker on my side, being my eyes and ears on the force, it’s going to make this whole thing that much easier.

  Or so I think.

  * * *

  When Trade texts me an invite to AJ’s eighth birthday party next week, I can’t help but smile. I send back a reply saying that I’d love to come. On my lunch break I browse toys at the shops, looking for a gift for him. I end getting him some Legos, a Power Rangers sword and a kid’s cookbook so he can find his own go-to meal. I also spot some really cute outfits that I end up grabbing for Quinn.

  I find Marisol sitting in her car outside of my office when I return. She opens the door and gets out of her car when she sees me. “I know I don’t have an appointment, I’m sorry. I just wanted to know if you have any updates for me,” she says, handing me a bouquet of sunflowers. “And these are for you, to say thank you. I know this is a lot to take on.”

  “Thank you, but you didn’t have to,” I reply, taking the flowers and smiling. “Come on in. I’ll make you coffee.”

  I put the flowers on my desk and turn on my coffee machine while she takes a seat. “So I’ve viewed the evidence, and I’ve even gone to the place where they found Ariel, near his property. So far I haven’t found anything that I can use, but I’m still looking. If I’m being honest, I don’t think after a year I’ll find any new evidence.”

  I don’t have to give her any false hope or tell her that for some reason I too believe Damon, in case I’m wrong and there’s nothing to find. But I don’t want her to think I’m not taking this case seriously either.

  She nods solemnly. “Thank you. I know you will find something that will help him.”

  So much for not wanting her to have any false hope.

  “Auntie, when I spoke to Damon he was adamant that I not look into this case. He told me to drop it and he didn’t want me working on this case.”

  “He just doesn’t want to bother you. My Damon is a good boy.”

  I go to grab us coffees, realizing that I’m stuck between a rock and a hard place here. “We’ll see.”

  “I’ve been trying to contact Taylor since Damon was locked away, but she won’t answer my calls. Do you think that that is suspicious? Or maybe she is just upset over him going to prison...”

  “Wait, who is Taylor?” I ask, pulling out my notepad and grabbing a pen.

  “She was Damon’s girlfriend. I mean, they were awful together, and on and off, but I haven’t seen or heard from her since he went away,” she explains, blowing on the mug in her hands.

  I blink. “Was Taylor his girlfriend when the murder took place?”

  She nodded.

  “Auntie, I told you, no lies. No withholding information. This is the type of stuff I need to know. No detail is too small, all right? Now, what’s her full name? And do you have her address?” I ask.

  “Taylor Rodgers,” she says. “I don’t know her exact address, but she lives in the Grove area. I think she lives alone—I remember Damon saying that she had her own place. She is twenty-five years old.”

  Marisol also mentions that Taylor works at a popular clothing store. Guess I’m going clothes shopping tomorrow. I write all the details down so I don’t forget anything.

  “Okay, is there anything else?” I ask, finally taking a sip of my coffee.

  She tilts her head to the side as she thinks. “I never liked her. She was no good for my boy. She always wanted him to spend money on her, buy her things. I bet she had something to do with him being in prison.”

  Internally, I roll my eyes. Marisol isn’t the first mother to not like her only son’s girlfriend. “Okay. If only being unlikable was against the law.”

  “It should be.” She finishes her coffee.

  “Are you sure there is nothing else you’re withholding? Is there anything else you want to tell me?”

  “No, I’ve told you everything.”

  I type in Taylor Rodgers’s name into the computer to see if she has a record. Surprise, surprise, she does. History of drugs. Been arrested twice—once for possession and once for assault of an officer. Resisted arrest twice.

  I look at her mugshot. It’s a shame—she’s a pretty girl, but they always say the devil has a pretty face.

  What has Damon gotten himself into?

  I mean, other than a murder conviction.

  Chapter Five

  When I show up at Taylor’s work the next morning, the busy clothing store is bustling. The manager informs me that Taylor was fired months ago and she hasn’t seen her since. I’m about to leave when I notice one of the staff members watching me, so I stop and decide to ask her if she knows anything. She nods, and tells me that she has her number, and is more than happy to share that information if I make it worth her while. I’m not amused, but I remember my first job in retail and how much they get paid, so I slip the little hustler a twenty dollar bill and take the number down.

  When I get into my car, I dial the number, and someone answers right away. “Hello?”

  “Hello, is this Taylor?” I ask.

  “Depends on who’s asking,” she replies, suspicion in her tone.

  “I’m a friend of Damon’s and I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind answering a few questions for me.”

  “Damon who?” Damon isn’t too common a name, so it has me wondering if she’s playing dumb.

  “Richard.”

  She’s silent for a second or two, and then she simply hangs up.

  “I guess that’s a no,” I mutter to myself.

  Fair enough. I guess she doesn’t want to talk to a stranger, or maybe she just doesn’t want to talk about Damon, period. I mean, she could just be sick of the whole thing and want to move on with her life now that Damon is locked away.

  And I’m going to find out what that life is.

  * * *

  “Do I want to know what you’re doing?” Trade asks quietly, making me jump.

  I put my hand on my chest. “Holy shit, you scared me. And no—you don’t.”

  He smirks and ducks behind my car with me, where I’ve been hiding for the past ten minutes waiting for Taylor to leave the shopping center. Who knows how long she’s going to be, but her car is parked near mine.

  After getting hung up on, I found her address online by using her name and cell number. I called Decker and asked him to see if she had a car and he grudgingly gave me the make and model, along with the license plate number. As I was pulling up to her apartment, which is surprisingly close to where I live, I saw her car coming out of the parking garage, so I followed her here.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “Came to grab some new game AJ wanted, and then I saw you. Who are we watching?” he asks, amusement in his tone.

  “Just a shady woman,” I reply without looking him in the eye. Instead I nudge the bag of party supplies in his hands. “Getting ready for AJ’s birthday, then.”

  “Yeah, I want to go all out. He deserves it—they all do,” he replies, smiling sadly. “I’m glad you’re coming. AJ keeps talking about you. I think you made quite the impression on him.”

  “Me or my loaded fries?” I tease, opening my car door. “Want to take this conversation inside?”

  He laughs and gets in on the other side. “Why were you waiting outside in the first place?” he asks.

  “I followed her inside at first, but then I realized my best bet would be waiting here. I’ve been torn between just approaching her or following her, but the latter has won out,” I explain. “I don’t think she’s the type who is going to make this easy.”

  “Okay, why are we following her?”

  He’s asking questions that I don’t want to answer, but I refuse to lie to him. I may be a lot of things, but I’m not a liar. I have to get creative with what I tell him. I’m not ready to tell him that I’m
working with Damon. Heck, he doesn’t even know I’m a family friend of his. I chose to keep that a secret when Damon was arrested, only telling Bronte.

  “I just need to ask her a few questions about the case I’m working on,” I admit, guilt hitting me. Of course I had to run into him while working on this case, as if I don’t feel bad enough.

  This is my karma.

  “You can’t tell me any more than that? Is it a cheating wife? Or someone who bounced checks? Wait, wait, I got it. She stole the tip jar from her job?” He starts to chuckle.

  I playfully hit his shoulder. “Laugh all you want, but my job is not just about catching cheaters or small petty crimes.”

  “Oh yeah? What other type of cases do you work on?” he asks with genuine interest, all humor gone from his voice.

  People rarely ask me about my work or my cases. Part of me thinks that they think being a private investigator is a silly job. But I chose this even though I didn’t have to. I went to the police academy—hell, I was doing well in my class. But when it came time to start my job as a patrol officer, I just was bored. I wanted more and I didn’t want to kiss political ass to become a detective.

  So I went to work for a private investigator who annoyed the crap out of the police. She was feisty, but good at her job. Chelsey taught me everything I know. She lives abroad now, but I’m grateful for her taking a chance on a rookie.

  “Remember the case about the kidnapping of that little girl? Susie Thomas?”

  His eyes bulge a bit. “Yeah, that was all over the news. She was last seen walking home from school and then vanished. Then five days later she—”

  “Just walked into her home as if she never left. Yup, that’s her. I worked with the family’s attorney. The police didn’t do much since Susie wasn’t injured and had no memory of the events. Her story kept changing. But I worked with her and was able to retrace her steps home. We found out that her mother’s sister had her. After her mother died, Susie’s father didn’t let her see that side of the family. She was with them.”

  “Wait, I didn’t hear about that. Why wasn’t that on the news?”