again.
J essica was quiet on the ride home. In fact, she hadn’t said much at all since they’d left the station.
She was safely ensconced in a state-appointed car seat in the back of the cruiser, the well-worn blue blanket clutched tightly in her small fists. He could see her in the review mirror as she gazed out the window at the passing landscape.
Her temporary caregivers had dressed her in skinny jeans with pink sparkles on the pockets that were too big for her small body; the legs were rolled up at the ankles, showing off her pink sneakers. He could see a white collar under her pink zip-up hoodie, which was also too big for her, and the cuffs were rolled up, thick and bulky, at her wrists. Her dark hair had been divided into two long braids with neon-colored hair ties on the ends. The child-sized backpack lay next to her on the back seat. The dirty blanket and the backpack were her only possessions.
Her shiny, dark hair, the same color as Miranda’s, set off her deep-blue eyes, which were the same eyes he saw every morning staring back at him in the bathroom mirror, or when he looked at his own father.
He focused again on the road, trying not to let the anger set in, when he heard a small sniffle from behind him. He met her gaze in the rearview mirror. She stared back at him with a tear trailing down her rosy cheek and a quiver in her bottom lip.
“Am I ’rested?” she whispered.
Jarod swallowed the lump in his throat. “No, Darlin’. Why would you think that?”
She wiped her nose on the dirty blanket and whispered back, “Mommy and Big Mike hadda ride in the back seat of the policeman’s car when they got ’rested.”
Jarod ground his teeth together in an effort to keep his anger at bay. He didn’t want to frighten her. He could only guess at all the horrible things this sweet little girl, his child , had seen in her short life.
He took a deep, calming breath through his nose. “Who’s Big Mike?” he asked, to distract them both from the circumstances. Of course, she was referring to Michael Trapp, the bastard who had dealt meth to Miranda and killed her in his car.
“He’s mommy’s slumber party friend,” she explained quietly.
Jarod closed his eyes for a moment. This kept getting better and better. He was afraid to ask her more, but he had to know. “Did your mom have a lot…” He hesitated a moment by clearing his throat, “…of slumber parties?”
She nodded the affirmative, her eyes round as saucers and very serious. “Uh huh.”
“Where were you when mommy had her parties?” He tried his damnedest to keep the wretched anger from seeping into his voice. Unfortunately, the last word came out as a growl, and her tiny shoulders hunched up to her ears anyway.
“In my secret house with Teddy.” Another tear rolled down her pretty face. “Teddy couldn’t come with me.” She squeezed her blanket even tighter.
Jarod’s heart ached at the thought of his own flesh and blood being taken away from the only home she knew, even if it was most likely a living hell. It made him even madder that she mourned the loss of her “teddy” and that the clothes on her back weren’t even hers. All she had was the dirty blue blanket that she clung to for dear life. She’d come to him with nothing, and it was killing him.
At a loss for words, he concentrated on the road and getting them safely home to his family. When he pulled into the driveway, he squirmed a bit at seeing Lauren’s car, which was parked in what was slowly becoming her normal parking space. She’d been spending quite a bit of time at the estate lately, working with his mother and Julie on the wedding.
His mother, Camille, had set Lauren up with her own room, so she didn’t have to drive home late when they got carried away in the craft room (better known to him and his brothers as the Room of Doom), where his mother ran her business. It was Camille’s way of appeasing her own guilt at
J essica was quiet on the ride home. In fact, she hadn’t said much at all since they’d left the station.
She was safely ensconced in a state-appointed car seat in the back of the cruiser, the well-worn blue blanket clutched tightly in her small fists. He could see her in the review mirror as she gazed out the window at the passing landscape.
Her temporary caregivers had dressed her in skinny jeans with pink sparkles on the pockets that were too big for her small body; the legs were rolled up at the ankles, showing off her pink sneakers. He could see a white collar under her pink zip-up hoodie, which was also too big for her, and the cuffs were rolled up, thick and bulky, at her wrists. Her dark hair had been divided into two long braids with neon-colored hair ties on the ends. The child-sized backpack lay next to her on the back seat. The dirty blanket and the backpack were her only possessions.
Her shiny, dark hair, the same color as Miranda’s, set off her deep-blue eyes, which were the same eyes he saw every morning staring back at him in the bathroom mirror, or when he looked at his own father.
He focused again on the road, trying not to let the anger set in, when he heard a small sniffle from behind him. He met her gaze in the rearview mirror. She stared back at him with a tear trailing down her rosy cheek and a quiver in her bottom lip.
“Am I ’rested?” she whispered.
Jarod swallowed the lump in his throat. “No, Darlin’. Why would you think that?”
She wiped her nose on the dirty blanket and whispered back, “Mommy and Big Mike hadda ride in the back seat of the policeman’s car when they got ’rested.”
Jarod ground his teeth together in an effort to keep his anger at bay. He didn’t want to frighten her. He could only guess at all the horrible things this sweet little girl, his child , had seen in her short life.
He took a deep, calming breath through his nose. “Who’s Big Mike?” he asked, to distract them both from the circumstances. Of course, she was referring to Michael Trapp, the bastard who had dealt meth to Miranda and killed her in his car.
“He’s mommy’s slumber party friend,” she explained quietly.
Jarod closed his eyes for a moment. This kept getting better and better. He was afraid to ask her more, but he had to know. “Did your mom have a lot…” He hesitated a moment by clearing his throat, “…of slumber parties?”
She nodded the affirmative, her eyes round as saucers and very serious. “Uh huh.”
“Where were you when mommy had her parties?” He tried his damnedest to keep the wretched anger from seeping into his voice. Unfortunately, the last word came out as a growl, and her tiny shoulders hunched up to her ears anyway.
“In my secret house with Teddy.” Another tear rolled down her pretty face. “Teddy couldn’t come with me.” She squeezed her blanket even tighter.
Jarod’s heart ached at the thought of his own flesh and blood being taken away from the only home she knew, even if it was most likely a living hell. It made him even madder that she mourned the loss of her “teddy” and that the clothes on her back weren’t even hers. All she had was the dirty blue blanket that she clung to for dear life. She’d come to him with nothing, and it was killing him.
At a loss for words, he concentrated on the road and getting them safely home to his family. When he pulled into the driveway, he squirmed a bit at seeing Lauren’s car, which was parked in what was slowly becoming her normal parking space. She’d been spending quite a bit of time at the estate lately, working with his mother and Julie on the wedding.
His mother, Camille, had set Lauren up with her own room, so she didn’t have to drive home late when they got carried away in the craft room (better known to him and his brothers as the Room of Doom), where his mother ran her business. It was Camille’s way of appeasing her own guilt at
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