Long Way Home
Page 63
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I’m aware and I respect the hell out of him for being able to read someone he doesn’t know. “Is it true? About my father?”
“I can’t talk to you about this. The details you’re asking for are part of a working case.”
My body flinches with the impact of his nonanswer. Anyone else would think he’s not telling me a thing, but he just confirmed there’s something to be told. My father, on some level, was involved in the Riot. “How bad?”
Jake shakes his head and remains tight-lipped. I’m asking him to give me something, but he’s loyal to his job. For the first time, I appreciate Violet’s frustration with me and the club.
I push off the wall to leave and Jake calls out my name. I glance over my shoulder and he rolls his neck. “We had Violet’s car towed to the station after we found it. Took a ton of pictures, processed everything in an effort to help find you two. Our mechanic got the car started, but it didn’t sound good. We released the car to her mom and I know the club has guys who can work on it, but there’s this mechanic here in Louisville. He’s good. One of the best I’ve met. I think you should take the car there, meet him...talk to him. He might lead you to answers.”
Answers. “What’s his name?”
“Isaiah Walker. He works at a custom shop, Pro Performance, during the day. A couple of nights a week, he does side jobs at a run-down garage in the south end of town called Tom’s. Do yourself a favor and don’t tell him I sent you.”
I nod in the hopes he understands how much I appreciate this break. I go to turn the knob, but before I open the door, I say, “She hasn’t told me what happened when she was alone.”
It’s not much, but he’ll read into it exactly what he wants to know.
“Thank you,” he says, and I walk away.
Violet
“IF YOU NEED anything else, call me or Cyrus.” Eli extends his hand to the three people who were with me while I picked out Fiend and his band of hairy friends.
The detectives said the overgrown hairballs couldn’t see me. They said the men would have no idea it was me tattletaling, but the way Fiend stared straight ahead, straight at me, the way a cold sludge seeped into my veins, I don’t believe them.
We’re in the lobby area and my jacket is on and I’m ready to go. Chevy’s arm is around my shoulders. His touch is welcome and comes close to creating a safe cocoon, but there are too many problems for me to feel completely at ease.
Mom is by my side, Eli and Cyrus on the other side of her and I’m quiet again. Don’t mean to be, but everything feels so heavy that staying upright is exhausting.
Each person takes Eli’s offered hand and they fake smiles except for Detective Jake Barlow. He stays serious as he shakes Eli’s hand and then his eyes meet mine. He lets go of Eli and offers me a manila envelope.
“We found this in Fiend’s possessions. I thought you’d like to have it back.”
Nervousness descends on me. It’s expected that I open it and begrudgingly I do. I peel back the lip, and when I peer inside, time freezes. It’s a silver chain and attached to it is my soul. My eyes burn, my throat swells and I press the envelope to my chest. This is the closest I’ll ever come to hugging my dad again.
It’s his cross. The one he wore since before my birth. It’s mine again. He’s not home, but his cross is and I’ll take this win.
Chevy brushes his fingers along my arm and Mom cranes her neck like that could cause her to have X-ray vision. “What is it?”
“Dad’s cross,” I whisper.
I step away from Chevy, needing room to return the cross to around my neck, and as I open the envelope again, I pause. Inside the envelope is handwriting and the first written words inform me that this is from Detective Jake Barlow.
Look at me and blink twice if you’re in a situation you can’t trust the Terror with and you’re scared. I can protect you from the Riot, from the Terror. I can help you. If you blink twice, excuse yourself and go to the women’s bathroom.
The entire world goes into slow motion and each inhale and exhale of air feels like it takes years. Two million thoughts, but I can’t process a single one. A life-and-death split-second decision. I lift my gaze, meet the detective’s and each blink rattles my frame like the pounding of a bass drum.
Bam.
Bam.
Detective Jake Barlow has blue eyes, like the twin flames of a blowtorch, and those eyes are zeroed in on me. He rips his stare from me and extends his hand to Eli again. “Hate to do this, but I’ve got another meeting. If anything comes up, any questions, you know how to get ahold of me.”
Eli shakes his hand, thanks him again, and Detective Jake Barlow walks away as if he didn’t just rattle my snow globe of a world.
I snap back to reality, gather Dad’s cross and then notice another familiar piece. “It’s also Dad’s watch.”
Mom audibly inhales and the guilt of losing something that meant so much to her skips along my veins. I reach in, pull it out and barely have time to offer it to her before she snatches it out of my hands. It was fast and brutal and I deserved it. Besides, I’m not going to wallow in sadness or guilt. I have Dad’s cross.
I crumple the envelope until it’s unrecognizable and toss it in the nearest trash can. My fingers shake as I try to clasp the cross on, but I fail and it snags in my hair.
A warm hand brushes my hair to the side and strong, calloused fingers take the clasp from me. A glance over my shoulder and Chevy’s focused on my necklace. A snap, the chain becomes heavy on my neck and I close my eyes when the cross lands on my chest.
“I can’t talk to you about this. The details you’re asking for are part of a working case.”
My body flinches with the impact of his nonanswer. Anyone else would think he’s not telling me a thing, but he just confirmed there’s something to be told. My father, on some level, was involved in the Riot. “How bad?”
Jake shakes his head and remains tight-lipped. I’m asking him to give me something, but he’s loyal to his job. For the first time, I appreciate Violet’s frustration with me and the club.
I push off the wall to leave and Jake calls out my name. I glance over my shoulder and he rolls his neck. “We had Violet’s car towed to the station after we found it. Took a ton of pictures, processed everything in an effort to help find you two. Our mechanic got the car started, but it didn’t sound good. We released the car to her mom and I know the club has guys who can work on it, but there’s this mechanic here in Louisville. He’s good. One of the best I’ve met. I think you should take the car there, meet him...talk to him. He might lead you to answers.”
Answers. “What’s his name?”
“Isaiah Walker. He works at a custom shop, Pro Performance, during the day. A couple of nights a week, he does side jobs at a run-down garage in the south end of town called Tom’s. Do yourself a favor and don’t tell him I sent you.”
I nod in the hopes he understands how much I appreciate this break. I go to turn the knob, but before I open the door, I say, “She hasn’t told me what happened when she was alone.”
It’s not much, but he’ll read into it exactly what he wants to know.
“Thank you,” he says, and I walk away.
Violet
“IF YOU NEED anything else, call me or Cyrus.” Eli extends his hand to the three people who were with me while I picked out Fiend and his band of hairy friends.
The detectives said the overgrown hairballs couldn’t see me. They said the men would have no idea it was me tattletaling, but the way Fiend stared straight ahead, straight at me, the way a cold sludge seeped into my veins, I don’t believe them.
We’re in the lobby area and my jacket is on and I’m ready to go. Chevy’s arm is around my shoulders. His touch is welcome and comes close to creating a safe cocoon, but there are too many problems for me to feel completely at ease.
Mom is by my side, Eli and Cyrus on the other side of her and I’m quiet again. Don’t mean to be, but everything feels so heavy that staying upright is exhausting.
Each person takes Eli’s offered hand and they fake smiles except for Detective Jake Barlow. He stays serious as he shakes Eli’s hand and then his eyes meet mine. He lets go of Eli and offers me a manila envelope.
“We found this in Fiend’s possessions. I thought you’d like to have it back.”
Nervousness descends on me. It’s expected that I open it and begrudgingly I do. I peel back the lip, and when I peer inside, time freezes. It’s a silver chain and attached to it is my soul. My eyes burn, my throat swells and I press the envelope to my chest. This is the closest I’ll ever come to hugging my dad again.
It’s his cross. The one he wore since before my birth. It’s mine again. He’s not home, but his cross is and I’ll take this win.
Chevy brushes his fingers along my arm and Mom cranes her neck like that could cause her to have X-ray vision. “What is it?”
“Dad’s cross,” I whisper.
I step away from Chevy, needing room to return the cross to around my neck, and as I open the envelope again, I pause. Inside the envelope is handwriting and the first written words inform me that this is from Detective Jake Barlow.
Look at me and blink twice if you’re in a situation you can’t trust the Terror with and you’re scared. I can protect you from the Riot, from the Terror. I can help you. If you blink twice, excuse yourself and go to the women’s bathroom.
The entire world goes into slow motion and each inhale and exhale of air feels like it takes years. Two million thoughts, but I can’t process a single one. A life-and-death split-second decision. I lift my gaze, meet the detective’s and each blink rattles my frame like the pounding of a bass drum.
Bam.
Bam.
Detective Jake Barlow has blue eyes, like the twin flames of a blowtorch, and those eyes are zeroed in on me. He rips his stare from me and extends his hand to Eli again. “Hate to do this, but I’ve got another meeting. If anything comes up, any questions, you know how to get ahold of me.”
Eli shakes his hand, thanks him again, and Detective Jake Barlow walks away as if he didn’t just rattle my snow globe of a world.
I snap back to reality, gather Dad’s cross and then notice another familiar piece. “It’s also Dad’s watch.”
Mom audibly inhales and the guilt of losing something that meant so much to her skips along my veins. I reach in, pull it out and barely have time to offer it to her before she snatches it out of my hands. It was fast and brutal and I deserved it. Besides, I’m not going to wallow in sadness or guilt. I have Dad’s cross.
I crumple the envelope until it’s unrecognizable and toss it in the nearest trash can. My fingers shake as I try to clasp the cross on, but I fail and it snags in my hair.
A warm hand brushes my hair to the side and strong, calloused fingers take the clasp from me. A glance over my shoulder and Chevy’s focused on my necklace. A snap, the chain becomes heavy on my neck and I close my eyes when the cross lands on my chest.
