Chapter 18
Chapter Eighteen
Kenna stared at her friend. “You think he knows something?”
“If anyone can find out, it’s you.” Ryson took the full mug from Jax, who handed over hers at the same time.
“Thanks.”
Jax leaned against the closed door and sipped from his mug. “We need a rental car. Maybe two.”
Kenna frowned over her drink, the scent making her think of her dad’s face with a scruff of beard and the flannel shirts he always wore.
She found she missed him at odd times and in strange ways, like the smell of his coffee.
If she thought about how he would never get to meet her daughter, she would start to cry, so instead she focused on the family this baby would have and asked, “Why do we need more cars?”
“You and Zeyla can go see the boyfriend.”
Ryson said, “His name is Marcus Neerwood.”
Jax continued, “I have an appointment at the prison to see Gerald Rickshire.”
“They called you back?”
He nodded. “When I was mapping the hospital. I’m not excited to go our separate ways this afternoon, but if you take Zeyla with you and you’re within twenty minutes of a hospital…”
“You think I’m going to have the baby this afternoon?”
“I think stress isn’t good. But neither is being cooped up in a car for days. When you get out and stretch your legs, things are going to compound, and who knows what will happen.”
Kenna folded one arm over her baby bump and held the mug with the other. “Hopefully, no gunmen, murderers, hitmen, assassins, ninjas, explosions, random crimes, fire of any kind…”
“We get it.” Jax grinned. “I’m not being paranoid. I’m being prepared.”
She loved that he cared about what happened to her. “I’ll be safe with Zeyla, and we’ll take the tank-car.”
Zeyla seemed pleased that Kenna intended to rely on her.
“I’ll stay here,” Maizie said, looking kind of relieved. “Keep an eye on the RV and work on the financials.”
Ryson said, “I’ll have the police department tech connect with you. Maybe you can team up?”
Maizie nodded. “All right.”
“We should pray before we part ways and get to work on this.” Kenna had a fear and desperation in her that drove her to do what it took to find someone.
But that had to be tempered with prayer.
With trusting that God had the whole situation in His hands.
She’d yielded her life to Him, and that meant every part of it was now under the umbrella of His sovereignty.
Jax shifted closer and held her hand. He prayed aloud for their protection and for success in the investigation, then for Ellayna, Abe, and Crystal, that they would be safe wherever they were. That they wouldn’t be harmed but found quickly and rescued.
Ryson picked up at the tail end, and Kenna reveled in the chance to hear him pray aloud.
She’d never had that kind of relationship with her friend, but now that she had faith and he had renewed his walk with the Lord, it gave them a whole extra way they could connect.
She heard his heart in his words and the wisdom he brought to his roles as husband, father, and police officer.
She carried the warmth of his words and the hope she had from the Holy Spirit with her, holding it close while she and Zeyla headed across the city to the T-shirt printing company where Marcus Neerwood waited.
Zeyla slowed the car for congestion. The freeway that ran through Salt Lake City was just a continual mass of traffic no matter what time of day.
Kenna missed it, but also she didn’t. This part of the country was beautiful, and right now, it was freezing.
She had liked living here because it was a unique area with a different kind of person who chose to reside here.
A mess of religious life and secular culture.
Secrets and hidden agendas, rather than overt crime, like in areas with a lot of visible gang activity.
“So, this guy is the dad, or not?” Zeyla fiddled with the radio, adjusting the volume.
Kenna said, “Marcus Neerwood is Bubby’s dad. That’s Ellayna’s little brother, Abe. She called him Bubby before. I don’t think Marcus and Crystal have lived together since before Abe was born. If they ever did, or have since, I don’t know.”
“Two kids, two dads, and no partner helping her at home.”
“It’s sadly really typical. But people do the best they can, and all our choices have consequences. There are ideals, sure. Ways things should be. But it isn’t something I’ve ever experienced. I was raised in a trailer by a single working father.”
“I was just asking. Not judging Crystal.” Zeyla shrugged, but there was more to it.
“What’s up?”
Zeyla glanced over. “It’s my deal, not yours.”
“Okay, but hit me with it. I want to know where you’re at.”
Zeyla didn’t answer right away, but when she did, it wasn’t what Kenna expected. “I just… You’re lucky.”
“Having a baby in what feels like wartime?” She knew she was blessed, though. How could she not? “I know what you mean. And thanks. I’m glad you get to be a part of it.”
“It’s all I get.”
Kenna waited.
“You’re like me. One of their children.”
“Am I? Malcom Banbury was your father. You weren’t conceived in a lab.” Kenna didn’t like to think about that, or the woman who had died bringing her into this world. Amara’s sister, someone she would never meet.
“It was the only way for her to do it.”
Kenna shook her head. “What are you talking about?”
“Mom, when she was pregnant. She went to them and asked them to accept the baby as part of their program. They made me like you, and I’m shocked it didn’t go wrong because it could have with them doing that after the fact. But they did more to me than what they did to you.”
“I don’t really know what you’re talking about.”
“I can’t have children. None of the offspring can except you.” Zeyla sucked in a breath. “Mom traded my ability to have children so they could sterilize an entire generation. Every child of Dominatus born after you is infertile. None of us can have children.”
Kenna stared at her, and her eyes burned with unshed tears.
“I’ve heard that. The general said something about me being the only one.
Or it was the president. I can’t remember, but I don’t want this child to be their chosen one, so I put it out of my mind.
At least, the implication of what they were saying and what it meant. ”
“I didn’t want to tell you.”
“I’m glad you did.” Kenna’s heart wanted to break inside her chest. The way it had so many times already. She should be used to it by now, but it still hurt. Every single time. “I’m sorry you can’t have children.”
“You think I want to bring a baby into this world? No offense. This is a messed-up place on a good day.”
“Then why not fill it with good things?” Kenna should have thought that through before she said it. “You could adopt. Change a child’s life, or a group of siblings. Give them what none of us had.”
“Just me?” Zeyla shot her a look.
Kenna had walked herself into that one. “Or…you know. Whoever.”
“I’m not marrying Ramon.”
“I mean. Never say never.” Kenna had, and now look where she was. “I’d have laughed if you’d have told me I’d marry Jax. Or have a family. Or that any of this would happen.”
“We’ll see.” Zeyla changed lanes and squeezed between two semis, then jerked the wheel to get them on the off-ramp exit. “Right now, we have people to find and a case to work.”
Kenna had to laugh.
“What?”
“You sound like me.” The laughter that should be dissipating bubbled up and spilled out. She chuckled while Zeyla looked at her with an annoyed expression. “Sorry.”
“You probably don’t need to be sorry. Aren’t siblings supposed to annoy each other?”
“I guess we’ll figure that out.”
Zeyla smiled, so that was something at least. “We’re here.”
Kenna grabbed her phone out of the cup holder and slipped a thin billfold with her IDs in it in her back pocket. “Let’s go shake some trees.”
“Maybe I should take lead.” Zeyla pushed out the door.
They met at the front of the car, and Zeyla beeped the locks. Kenna said, “Because you want to be in charge?” She wanted Zeyla to say it. To admit out loud what she wanted.
“I’m good with being the bodyguard. But you’re pregnant.
I don’t know whether to watch your back or permanently stand in front of you.
” Zeyla looked at Kenna’s baby bump and shook her head.
“Preston better get here soon with his team, or I’m going to go crazy trying to figure out how to make it so nothing happens to you. ”
“There’s risk everywhere. You’re not in charge of what happens and who lives or dies. None of us are. What we need to do is trust that the God who made the universe is looking out for us.”
“Because He’s on your side?” Zeyla folded her arms and shuttered her expression.
Kenna said, “Yes, He is.”
She knew who she was in the eyes of the Lord. She was His child, and He loved her enough to die to save her. The way He loved every single person in the world, whether they believed it or not. They were guaranteed eternity, not safety in this life. But she still trusted Him.
Zeyla took a step back and angled her body toward the building. “Let’s go talk to this guy. You can preach to me later.”
Kenna didn’t let on that she was disappointed about where the conversation had gone.
She had to see it as planting seeds and letting God work in Zeyla’s heart.
It could take years for her to accept the truth, and Kenna would be in her life, showing her what God had done, whether she decided to trust Him or not.
Zeyla held open the front door of the T-shirt shop, and Kenna went in, her hand close to the weapon at the small of her back. She got a look at the guy behind the counter and almost kept her hand there. “Hey.”
The guy lifted his chin. Heavy-metal T-shirt, long hair that needed washing, and sleeves of tattoos. It was cold in here, but he didn’t seem to feel it. “How’s it going?”
Kenna said, “We’re looking for Marcus Neerwood. Is he here?”
The guy lifted his chin again. “He do that to you?”
It took her a second to realize he meant had Marcus impregnated her. “No, it’s not his baby.”
“That’s a relief.” His expression didn’t change.
“Is Marcus here?”
The guy stared at her. Kenna sensed Zeyla behind her, and the guy’s brows rose. Finally, he said, “Marcus didn’t show up for work this morning.”
“Is that normal, for him to just skip it?” Kenna asked.
The guy shrugged.
“Does he have a locker we can look at?” Kenna dragged out her ID and showed him her investigator license. Thankfully, she had one for Utah. “We’re looking for some people who might be missing and in danger.”
“You think he had something to do with it?”
Kenna said, “For all we know, he might be missing and in danger along with them.” Then again, he could be the reason no one could find Crystal, Ellayna, and Abe.
“Sounds like something for the police to worry about. Not a pregnant chick and her sidekick.” The guy tipped his head to the side. “You think I’m gonna let you poke around people’s personal stuff?”
“If it could save his life, why not let us look?”
He almost smirked. “Nice try. Now get lost, both of you.”
Zeyla shifted, moving around Kenna, who stopped her from going in front of her. “Nope.” She tugged her sister back. “Let’s go.” To the guy, she said, “Thanks for your time.”
Zeyla pushed the door open and held it, only speaking when it closed behind them. “You’re just gonna give up?”
“No, we just need a new tactic.” Kenna led her to the car. “We don’t need to argue with that guy and try to convince him to let us see the locker. The police can do the legwork on something like that. We need a lead that is actually going to get us a result.”
Zeyla looked over the roof of the car. “So what are we going to do?”
“Let’s go to his house to see if he’s there. Maybe he’s sick.” She didn’t think that would turn out to be the case, but it got them moving. Shaking trees. Kicking over rocks.
All the analogies that meant she could be distracted from thinking about the men shooting at them in the car.
Even if the police had taken them into custody, or permanently subdued them in retaliation for an officer’s death, she didn’t know if she could let this one go easily.
The memory of it seemed too close to the surface.
“You good?” Zeyla parked in a compact space outside of a two-story building of old, rundown apartments.
“I’m good.” Kenna sent Preston a text asking for an update and where they might get the car repaired so it could be back to being an armored vehicle most people would mistake for a regular car instead of a wreck that drew attention everywhere they went.
After stowing her phone, she followed Zeyla to the upper floor. “This is where he lives?”
“According to Maizie. It’s apartment three.” Zeyla slid out the gun holstered at the small of her back and thumbed off the safety, holding it by her side.
Kenna stood to the side of the door and hammered with the base of her fist. “Marcus Neerwood! Open the door!”
Cars streamed by on the street. Trash had collected on the ground at the end of the balcony where they stood.
Nothing.
She hammered again, but no one answered. Kenna lowered her hand.
“Do you hear that? I’m pretty sure I heard a child or someone in there cry out in distress—” Zeyla lifted her knee and slammed the sole of her boot next to the door handle.
“Yeah, me, too.” Kenna bit her lip, trying not to laugh.
Zeyla would make a terrible police officer but an exceptional marine—if she could handle all the rules and regulations.
She would probably have been kicked out for punching a superior, so it was good that she was a private security specialist. Or whatever she was.
The smell hit Kenna in a noxious wave.
“Oof.” Kenna wrinkled her nose. “That’s not a good smell.”
Zeyla stepped into the house.
“Don’t touch anything,” Kenna said. “I’ll call the police. This is a crime scene.”