Chapter Seventy-Seven
Jake
I kick back in my chair, tossing my feet onto my desk. “Did Mom tell you to call?”
“Of course.” Ivy’s sweet voice holds that typical teenager’s attitude of being put out at having to do something they don’t want to do.
“You don’t have to invite me over.” I bite my bottom lip to keep from grinning. I missed so many years of her life. It’s nice to be back to where I can see her more frequently.
“The invite isn’t for you, or I wouldn’t do it at all.
I was busy the other night when Mom watched Grace, so I didn’t get to see her.
I want to see Emily and the baby. I’m just putting up with you to get to them.
You finally did something smart by getting with Emilly.
She’s a great person. I don’t know why you waited so long to do something about it. When she was dating that–”
“Stop. I don’t want to hear it.” I shove my chair backwards, causing it to scrap on the cement. My feet smack on the floor, sending reverberations up my legs.
“Quiet!” Ora spins in her chair while sliding her glasses down her nose.
“Sorry.” I give her my best beseeching look and amble to a standing position. “I’ll take the call in the breakroom.”
“You do that. I’m trying to watch my show.” Her attention returns to the open tablet on her desk. Not that it’s a separate room, but it’s away from Ora’s desk so our conversation will disrupt her viewing pleasure a little less.
It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell her to pause the show but catch myself before admitting I’m turning into a daytime television junkie. It’s embarrassing.
“Is my brother jealous?” My sister’s voice is more mocking than it started out.
“Damned straight I am. I know I have no right to be. I screwed things up with Emily and took too long explaining myself to her, but that doesn’t mean I want to hear one word about her and anyone else. Ever.” I pop my neck with a audible crack.
“I wonder what happened with that Spencer guy. Is Emily still in contact with him?”
“Ivy,” I growl as the roasted scent of coffee wafts throughout the kitchenette. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were trying to piss me off.”
“I am.” Her laughter fills the air.
I need a fucking cup of coffee. Black coffee. This teaches me not to answer the phone when I’m on break. Now, I only have ten minutes before I need to get back on the streets, and I haven’t eaten. Or called Emily to check on Grace.
I glance at my watch. Five minutes to eat and five minutes to call Emily and check on my girls.
Just the thought of them eases the frustration from the day.
When I get home, my girls will be waiting.
Emily can’t officially move in until my licensing is complete, but she stays several times a week.
On the other nights, I’m at her apartment.
“I’ll tell Emily about the invitation. As long as she doesn’t have anything planned and the baby is having a good night, we’ll be there for Sunday dinner. Let Mom know.”
“Look at you. Already wrapped around their fingers. Hannah said she could come too.”
“That’s great. And yes, I’m wrapped around their fingers and proud of it.” Due Hannah’s schedule, I’ve only seen her once since returning to Brookhaven. My phone rings again. “Hey, Tiny Tot, I’ve got to go. I love you.”
“Love you, too.”
After Ivy clicks off, I study the number. Probably a spam caller. I deposit my phone on the counter and pour a steaming mug of coffee into a travel cup. The steam wafts above the black container.
The second my phone stops ringing, it starts again. I poke the ignore button and mutter, “There’s too many telemarketers these days.”
“Did you hear that Chad Whitlock got bail?” Chief Carter’s voice comes from behind me.
My heart jumps into my throat as I spin on my heel, sloshing coffee as I go. “What?”
“Chad Whitlock got out on bail this afternoon.”
“No fucking way.” I grind my teeth together. “What in the fuck? The judge knows Chad. How could he give him low bail. He ran from the police, resisted arrest, assaulted a law enforcement officer, and threw a shit-ton of drugs out his window. That’s worth no bail.”
Chief Carter strides across the room. The kitchenette lights dance off the polished black tips of his shoes. “It was high.”
“What do you mean?” I drop the coffee mug onto the counter without paying attention to the liquid that splashes onto my fingers. There’s nothing that’s going to fix this shitshow.
He crosses his arms over his broad chest, causing his dark suit jacket to bunch above his forearms. “Bail was set at one hundred thousand. No percentage.”
“How did he come up with one hundred thousand? Jesus. Forget I asked. The guy is deeper in the drug world than we suspected if he’s got that kind of money laying around.”
“Clearly.” The chief’s face is beet red as he shakes his head. “And who knows what his attorney is going to come up with to delay proceedings.”
“I don’t even want to know who’s representing him.” I thought he’d end up with a public defender.
My phone rings again. Let it go, asshole.
When he tells me the name, I shake my head. He’s known for representing the most elite crooks in the city. The politicians. “I don’t know how that asshole can look himself in the mirror.”
“It’s plated in gold.”
I’ve got to tell Emily that he’s back on the streets. “Give me a second.”
“Go ahead.” He unlaces his arms and rubs a palm over his forehead. “I have a headache.”
“Me, too.” As I swipe the screen to call Emily, I glance at the missed calls. They’re all from the same number. Out of Kansas City. Shit. That’s Lucas’s number, and he’s called twenty times in the last ten minutes.
I hit redial. Don’t tell me Chad has already knocked the kid around in the few hours he’s been out. But I already know the answer before the phone clicks in my ear. This is Chad Whitlock we’re talking about. Of course, he’s already terrorizing the streets.
“Jake Thompson calling from the Brookhaven Police Department. I was returning your call. If you’re injured, you need to call 911 or get an ambulance. We’re not able to respond from here to your location.”
“This is Lucas Hays. You’ve got to get to Mackenzie’s house. I called her, and she’s not answering.”
Seriously? He’s called twenty times to check on his girlfriend. She’s probably hooking up with someone.
“I’m sure she’s busy.” I hold on to the last shred of hope that I can eat before having to go to Mackenzie’s house and deal with Chad again. I snatch a paper towel off the spool.
Ora will have my ass if I don’t clean up after myself. ‘I’m the dispatcher, not the full-time cleaning lady.’ I can already hear her chastising me. I peer over to the lobby where she’s turned the television channel to a crime show.
Now this…. This I can admit to watching.
“I sent Emily Grey there fifteen minutes ago, and now she’s not answering either.”
“What did you say?” My keys jingle as I shove past Captain Carter. Please tell me I heard him wrong.
“I sent Emily to check on Mackenzie, and now, neither of them is answering their phones.”
“What’s wrong?” Ora jumps from her seat, causing it to crash onto the floor as Chief Carter barrels through the lobby, trailing behind me.
“Tell Ramirez to go to the Whitlock house now.” I click off the phone, not even bothering to tell Lucas goodbye.
“What’s going on?” Chief Carter bellows.
“That Lucas kid sent Emily to check on Mackenzie and neither of them are answering him. She has Grace with her.” Bile rises in my throat. “She had no idea Chad was out of jail. Chad has told both of us to leave him and Mackenzie alone.” I yank open the door with a jerk.
I can’t fucking think. My chest heaves as I try to take in a deeper breath, before I hyperventilate while pressing her name on my phone.
Ring after ring goes through without any answer. Please let them be okay. Please let them be okay. She had no idea Chad was there. Fifteen minutes. She’s been there fifteen minutes.
Chief Carter’s boots stomp on the gravel behind me. “I’ll drive.”
“I’ll drive.” I rip the door to my cruiser open. There’s no fucking way I can sit in a fucking car and do nothing. I’ll lose my shit.
“Fine.” He falls into the passenger seat. “Go. Now.”