16. Louise
Chapter 16
Louise
In the week since Kiera’s death, fall has taken a firm hold of the eastern United States. A keen wind tears orange and golden leaves from the branches of trees fighting a losing battle against nature, and blustery showers arrive on the regular.
I stare out of the window of Kiera’s childhood bedroom. The hole her passing has torn through my heart won’t be soothed no matter what I do. I’ve never felt pain like it. In the daytime, I keep busy. Funerals take a lot of organization, and despite my parents impressively holding it together, I try to take most of the weight on my shoulders.
The nights, though, are a different matter entirely. I barely sleep a wink, my mind running pointless scenarios of what ifs. When I do sleep, my dreams are full of Kiera, and I wake with damp cheeks, a sore throat, and an emptiness inside me I have no idea how to fill.
I haven’t seen Draven since leaving him behind at the hospital the night Kiera died, and nor has he called me. No doubt, in his eyes, he did what I asked of him: he found my sister. Knowing Draven, he will have already moved on to his next case, the brief blast from his past fading into a distant memory.
As each day passes, I swing between blaming him for storming in there in typical Draven fashion, and feeling oddly grateful that, because of him, Kiera died a free woman. If it hadn’t been for Draven, I wouldn’t have known about Arjan Shala, and we’d never have discovered where the women were being held. If he hadn’t led us to that grubby, disgusting warehouse, all those women would have been sold to the highest bidder and living a life of unimaginable horror.
“Lola? The car is here.”
I glance over my shoulder and offer a faint smile to my mother. “One more minute?”
Mom nods before closing the door with a quiet click. I check my appearance in the full-length mirror beside the dresser, smoothing a hand down the front of my black suit. Dark colors always make me look drained, almost ill. I prefer brighter, more vibrant choices in my clothes, but then again, I am drained, so my clothing suits my mood.
“I miss you, Kiera,” I whisper. “I won’t rest until we catch those bastards. I promise I’ll fight for justice. For you. For me. For all those other women.”
With a final glance around the room, I leave my sister’s bedroom, knowing it’ll be a long time before I can bear to be in here again.
Mom and Dad are waiting at the bottom of the stairs, their faces showing the immense strain they’ve been under.
“Ready?” Dad asks, holding out his arm for me to link mine through. With Mom on his other side, the three of us walk out to the waiting vehicle that will take us to the church.
Neighbors have gathered, some with genuine sympathy, others to simply feed off another’s pain and thank their lucky stars it isn’t happening to them. Dad hangs back, allowing Mom and me to get in the car before he follows, closing the door behind us. The heavily tinted windows shut out the intrusive stares from the gathered crowd.
“Okay, love?” he asks, squeezing my hand.
I nod, not trusting myself to speak. I’ve cried enough tears to fill a bathtub. Dad’s softly spoken words are at risk of causing the floodgates to open once more. I refuse to be a burden today. I want to be their rock, not a crutch for me to lean on.
It only takes fifteen minutes to arrive at the church. The pastor waits outside with his hands crossed over his middle, and bible in hand, his expression holding just the right amount of compassion. He must have perfected that look over the years.
I’m not one for church, nor for burials, but my parents are, and this day is about helping them come to terms with losing their youngest child, not my beliefs. After taking my turn to shake the pastor’s hand, I go inside. I almost lose my composure when my gaze falls on Kiera’s coffin displayed on the altar, somehow holding it together only for the sake of my parents.
As I walk up the center aisle, I catch sight of several of my coworkers sitting in the pews. Even Rick has made the trip down from Newark. A few of them give me tight smiles while others simply nod before returning their gazes to the bench in front. I spot my boss, Gary Shelton, about halfway down. He gives me a civil nod, then avoids my gaze.
Apart from one phone call to offer his condolences, my boss and I haven’t spoken. No doubt, after today, he’ll expect me to return to my duties, and in a way, I’ll be glad to. Work will be my salvation, and a way of throwing myself into solving crimes, taking filth off the streets, and contributing, in some small way, to making the public safer.
I’ve almost reached my seat when my gaze falls on the one person I don’t expect to see.
Draven.
Seeing him feels like a concrete block sitting on my chest. A mixture of shock and elation claws its way to the surface. He hasn’t conformed to a suit—I wouldn’t expect him to—but he’s tied back his hair and trimmed his beard, and he’s put on a black dress shirt beneath his customary leather jacket. His eyes bore through mine. For that split second, it could be only him and me standing in this church, wondering what to do.
I pause mid-step, unsure of my next move.
Then the moment passes, and he’s behind me, out of sight.
I slide into the front pew, followed by Mom and then Dad. Mom cries silent tears as she stares at Kiera’s coffin while I clench my fists, all my energy taken up with keeping my own emotions in check and trying not to lose control. My throat burns, and I can’t seem to get enough air into my lungs.
Thirty minutes.
That’s all it takes for the pastor to share Kiera’s entire life with the mourners. One of Kiera’s high school friends speaks so eloquently, holding it together until the very last moment before her tears overflow. Even then, she chokes her way through the last few sentences, then stumbles back to her pew, her eyes red raw, and her bottom lip swollen from where she’s gnawed at it.
The sun bursts through the clouds when we all exit the church. Mom clutches my hand with a slight tremble to her fingers, but other than that small sign, she appears to be somewhat coping. We stand by Kiera’s graveside, but as her coffin is being lowered into the ground, I can’t bear to look. Instead, I lock gazes with Draven standing opposite, and use his strength to anchor myself while my emotions run riot. I have to dig my fingernails into my free hand to stop myself from having a complete meltdown.
I feel naked without Kiera, rudderless, adrift on a stormy sea without the one person I’ve always been able to rely on, no matter what. Now who do I have? Not Draven, that’s for sure. No one will ever be able to tie him down. The last week has proven that. Where has he been while I’ve quietly fallen apart? Sure, he’s turned up today, but that doesn’t mean anything.
Maybe he expects me to blame him for Kiera’s death. Maybe I do. I haven’t worked that part out yet, although deep down, I believe he saved my sister. The toxicology reports revealed a lethal cocktail of drugs in her system, and the doctor confirmed she hadn’t stood a chance of surviving, even if she hadn’t gotten shot. But at least this way, I got to hold her, kiss her, and sing to her one last time. I got to be with her at the end, and for that, I’m forever grateful.
When the mourners begin to dissipate, Mom and Dad go over to the pastor, no doubt to thank him for the service, leaving me wander back toward the parking lot. I’ll wait for my parents there.
“Rhodes. Got a minute?”
I pull up short and turn around slowly. “Sir,” I say to my boss. “Thanks for coming.”
He nods, shifting from one foot to the other, and I narrow my eyes at his antsy behavior. Shelton doesn’t do antsy.
“What’s up?” I ask.
“I need a word.”
He clasps my elbow, steering me away from the dispersing crowd. Stopping underneath an old oak tree, he scratches his cheek, then stuffs his hands into the pockets of his black pea coat.
“If this is about me returning to work, you don’t need to look so embarrassed, boss. I’m chomping at the bit to get back. I need normality, routine. To bury myself in so much work I don’t have time to think. I know I dropped you in it, but I’m ready to work for the state of New Jersey, twenty-four seven.”
“Rhodes, stop running your mouth for five seconds and listen up.”
Something in the tone of his voice, or maybe his body language, gives me an empty feeling in the pit of my stomach.
“Sir, what’s going on?”
“You’re in deep shit, that’s what’s going on.”
My skin prickles, adrenaline coursing through my veins. “What do you mean?”
“It means, Rhodes, that because of your little stunt at the warehouse, I’ve had the captain chewing my fucking ear off. Apparently, you screwed up a much bigger case by going in as you did.”
I press my hand to my throat. “What case?”
Shelton hitches his right shoulder. “Above my paygrade, according to the captain, and the FBI are incandescent.”
I widen my stance and fold my arms beneath my chest. “Did you really expect me to give up looking for my sister?”
“What I expected was for you to allow the feds to do their job.” He swipes a hand over his face. “If you’d called it in first, maybe the situation could have been managed, but you didn’t. What I’d like to know is why didn’t you?”
I close my eyes. Goddammit. If only Draven had listened to me like I’d asked him to. “Fuck.”
“Understatement of the century.”
I rub the space between my eyes. “What happens now?”
“I won’t sugarcoat this, Rhodes. You’re demoted, as of today.”
He may as well have physically punched me in the stomach. I recoil, stumbling back a few feet, clutching my abdomen. “Sir?—”
His hand flies in the air. “I didn’t want to do this today of all days, but you’re the talk of the precinct, and I couldn’t risk you finding out by some other means. You’re fucking lucky you haven’t been fired. Trust me, it was a close call. I believe in you, Rhodes, so I stuck my own neck on the line and fought your corner. This is a setback in your career, no doubt, but if you keep your head down, work hard, there’s nothing to say you can’t regain your rank within a few years.”
“A few years? Sir, I hoped to take my sergeant exam next February.”
“Not gonna happen, Rhodes.”
Shaken to the core, I stare at the ground. I can’t believe it. I’ve lost Kiera, and now my career has been flushed down the toilet, too. This can’t be happening.
“I’ll expect to see you back in the office first thing Monday, where you will be confined to desk duties for the next three months. After that, we’ll see.”
He leaves me standing under that solitary oak tree, broken, alone, and with my career in tatters.