little girl outside the door looked a lot younger.
Miranda was using while she was pregnant.
Jarod fought hard to keep the red haze of his anger from obscuring the rest of the documents. There were reports indicating that Child Protective Services had been called and that Jessica had been taken from her mother on several occasions. He counted at least three periods when Jessica had been placed with foster families while Miranda was in jail—the first time at only six months of age.
Just a baby.
The red haze blazed across his vision.
“Why wasn’t I informed when my…daughter,” he swallowed, choking on the word, “was collected by CPS?” He jabbed his finger at the reports.
“There was never any record of shared custody filed with the State of Nevada. We didn’t know you were her father until Miranda’s death. They’re calling it a glitch.” Here, the detective looked ashamed and looked down at the table, not meeting Jarod’s eyes. “We didn’t bring Jessica into our care until last night.”
“What do you mean?” Jarod’s voice was whisper calm.
“The wreck was reported three days ago on Highway 160, just outside of Pahrump. We believe Mr. Trapp lost control of his vehicle and rolled it off the embankment. An autopsy will show whether any drugs or alcohol were in their systems at the time of the accident. But by the time Mrs. King had been identified, CPS was sent to her last known address, where they found Jessica, in good health,” he assured Jarod. “She was immediately brought into the state’s care, and it was determined, at that time, that you are her next of kin.”
Jarod had a lot of questions to ask, but his poor befuddled mind was still grappling with the fact that he was a father and that his child was outside needing him badly. His experience of late, and the Decatur boy in particular, weighed on his heart like an anchor. Reclaiming his control was almost impossible, but he did it as he stood up.
“Thank you for coming to me directly, Detective. I appreciate all you’ve done. I’d like to take my little girl home now to meet her family, if you don’t mind.”
“Of course,” he said. Cane looked at the birth certificate that Jarod held in a death grip.
“I’d like to keep this, if possible?” Jarod motioned to the folder on the table. His voice only quavered a little. “I’d like to know what my daughter has gone through since her birth.”
“Certainly, Sheriff. Let’s get you introduced to your daughter.”
They walked out to the hallway, where the woman sat with a protective arm around the back of the bench, surrounding Jessica. They were looking at a picture book, and the woman was reading it softly to the little girl. They both looked up when the door opened, and Jarod stopped dead.
Jessica was small but beautiful, and very calm. She didn’t smile, but she wasn’t crying, either. Did she know her mother was dead? Did she care?
Detective Cane bent down in front of her and said, “Jessica, this is your father. His name is Jarod King, the same last name as yours. He’s a sheriff, and he wants to take you home, now.”
Jessica’s blue eyes met Jarod’s and studied his face while Jarod studied hers.
In a voice almost too quiet to hear, she whispered, “Ah-right.”
She gave the book back to the woman, to whom Jarod had not been introduced, and hopped off the bench. She turned to the miniature backpack that was on the bench and put it on her back like a pro. Then she picked up the dirtiest blue blanket that Jarod had ever seen and clung to it for dear life. She turned and looked up at Jarod expectantly.
It was clear that his little girl had been passed around from person to person since her birth, and that this was not her first rodeo when it came to being dumped with someone new. He wondered if she even knew what it meant that he was her father.
He wanted to break things.
He wanted to howl at the moon and then kill his ex-wife all over
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