3. Lars
CHAPTER 3
Lars
“H ey, Dad?” Glancing up as my son hesitantly walks into the room, I nod for him to speak. “I have a friend at school; they’re having a rough time. Think they could stay over for the weekend?” I notice his eyes keep moving to the side, and he says they instead of he or she.
“What’s her name?” I tease. Damon’s always been a good kid with a good head on his shoulders, so I know he’s not trying to be sneaky but rather showing concern for a peer.
“Ellie…”
My ears ring, and my heart pounds. I barely register anything else that comes out of his mouth. It can’t be her. My Ellie. Right? Except she’s not mine. She can’t be. I arrested her father on multiple counts of murder and discovered the reason she was in foster care from age ten to twelve was because the man in question was on trial for her mother’s murder. I wonder if she knows that detail.
“Are you listening, Dad?” Damon’s brows furrow with concern.
“Sorry, son, say that again.” He rolls his eyes at me.
“Ellie, she’s not having an easy time of things at school or home. She needs a break, and I thought we could binge movies and eat junk all weekend.” I nod mutely, knowing I’ll be disappointed it’s not my Ellie because the social worker has assured me she’s in a good home, happy and healthy.
“Yeah, son, that’s fine. She can stay.”
Turning away, I get back to fixing dinner, oblivious to the girl my son’s brought home and vaguely wondering if he’s interested in her or if they’re dating already.
I open the fridge next to me and reach in to grab a beer. Popping the tab open, I chug the brew in one long gulp before turning back around and nearly losing my tongue.
“Dad, this is Ellie. Ellie, this is my Dad, Lars. He’s nicer than he looks.” Damon laughs, oblivious to the tension thickening the air.
My Ellie.
Is the friend Damon has spending the weekend with us.
She’s lost weight in the three weeks since I’ve seen her. The dark circles under her eyes speak to how little she’s been resting, and the sadness in her gaze worries me. The glazed look from the day I ruined her life remains, only it’s more pronounced.
“Ellie.” I say her name softly, and she focuses on me. Tears well up and slip over her thick lashes, pouring down her cheeks in waves of agony.
Cursing, I place my empty can down and go to her. Dragging her into my arms, she lets out heavy, hiccupping sobs as she wraps her arms around my waist.
“Dad?” Damon is confused.
She wouldn’t have told anyone what was going on if she could avoid it, but I don’t know how close the two of them are. Hell, I didn’t even know they went to school together.
“Watch the stove?” I ask as I pick Ellie up in my arms. He nods, no less confused, as I begin to walk away. “I’ll explain; just give me a few minutes, okay?” Another nod as I head up to my room.
Setting Ellie on the bed, I rush into the bathroom and grab a washcloth. Wetting it, I return and begin wiping her face as I sit next to her.
“Sweetheart.” Her swollen eyes meet mine. “What’s going on?” I already know I won’t like the answer based on the range of emotions she attempts to cover up as they flit across her features.
“Nothing,” she finally whispers, dropping her gaze from mine.
“This is not nothing. You’ve lost weight; you aren’t sleeping. You just broke down. I can’t fix it if you don’t tell me what’s going on with you.” Trying to convince her is like taming a dragon–a fictional dream.
“It doesn’t matter; nothing will change. It never does.” I hate the defeat in her tone.
“I’ll make sure it does.” I can make her a thousand promises, but none of them will matter if she won’t open up to me.
Brushing the hair away from her face, I wait patiently. Something I’ve excelled at my entire career.
“They’re nice enough.” She sniffles, and I hand her a Kleenex from the box on my side table. “Clara likes to bake, and she does it when she’s nervous or uncertain.” I remain quiet, knowing she needs to get this out in her own way and time. “Connor works at a car dealership as a manager; people seem to like him.”
“Do you?” I ask, beating down my jealousy that she might like another man, even if it’s in a parental role.
She shrugs. “He’s okay, I guess. We haven’t spent a lot of time together.”
“They have kids, too, right?” And I suspect that they’re the problem. Or at least one of them is.
Ellie hesitates before nodding. “Carly and Cory.” She bites her lip and hugs a pillow to her chest. She looks so young yet so mature in this moment. “Cory’s okay. He mostly games and hangs out with his friends.”
“And Carly?” I somehow already know the story.
The girl is a bully.
I’ve come across it enough in my time as a cop. Carly sees a victim in Ellie because of what she’s going through and likely hides it behind false concern at home so her parents never realize. If I were to speak with the other kids that have been in their care, I bet ten to one that they would have similar stories to Ellie’s.
Exhaustion weighs on my girl, and I decide to reassure her and let the matter drop for now. “Why don’t you rest while Damon and I finish dinner? I’ll come get you once it’s ready.” It’s not a question or a choice because I can see how depleted she is, and she needs a steady hand to steer the course for her right now.
Once she allows her eyes to close, I stand up and pull a blanket over her, ensuring she’s tucked in before shutting the blinds as well. Leaving is more challenging than I anticipated, and when I close the door behind me, I exhale a deep breath, trying to get myself under control before heading down to Damon.
“That’s her, isn’t it?” he asks before I can say anything.
Damon and I have always been honest with each other. When I met Ellie, he knew something was off and called me on it for days afterwards until I confessed that I’d fallen for a suspect’s daughter and that she was too young for me to pursue. We didn’t talk about it much after that.
“Yeah, it’s Ellie,” I sigh, scrubbing a hand up and down my face as I sit on a stool at the island opposite of where he’s cooking.
Handing me another beer, Damon doesn’t say anything. He just stirs the fajita mixture and waits on me.
“Told you she was young,” I finally mutter after finishing my second beer.
“She’s eighteen,” he points out with a smug grin. “I’ve known Ellie a couple of years now. If she didn’t go to my school, I’d think she was older. Early twenties, at least.”
I appreciate what the kid is doing by trying to make me feel like it’s acceptable, but my position on the force won’t allow me to make her mine. Not yet, anyway.
“It’ll look like manipulation because of our connection. I won’t put her through that.” As much as it might kill me. “She doing okay at school?”
The anger crossing his features, so much like my own, takes me aback. Damon isn’t an angry kid; if I’m honest, he’s hard to get a rise out of. “Carly Hillard is making her life miserable. She’s spreading rumors and telling kids that Ellie’s dad is killing women because he can’t have his daughter.”
That’s bullshit. I’ve spoken to the man on several occasions, and he’s got no interest in anything sexual with his daughter. In fact, all the women he’s butchered are similar in appearance to her mother–dark hair, blue eyes, tall, slim build. Ellie is blonde, has golden honey eyes, is on the shorter side, and has curves that make my mouth water. From all that I’ve researched, they don’t even have similar personalities. Iris Dawson was outgoing, flirtatious, and enjoyed any type of attention she could get. Ellie is quieter, a bookworm who gets good grades, and until all this happened, she was expected to be the graduating class's valedictorian.
“School that bad?” I ask, knowing that he’ll try to downplay it so I don’t worry, but I’ll get a version of the truth that’ll give me the bigger picture.
“Me and most of the basketball team have been shutting everyone down. Ellie’s been our scorekeeper for two years, and she’s the one who always brings cupcakes for us after every game.”
I remember the first time Damon brought one home; he’d been thrilled. The guys he hangs out with on the team have always been good kids. Having influence in the school and choosing to make a positive impact brings them frequent praise.
“I tell you how proud I am of you lately?” He grins, knowing full well he’s my pride and joy. “You’re a great kid, Damon. You’re going to change this damn world we live in, too.”
He plans to follow in my footsteps, and I’m confident he’ll be a valuable addition to our community.
“She’d be good for you, Dad,” he says softly, and while I want to believe that I could have a girl like Ellie, I know it’s not possible right now. I’ll have to play the long game and wait until she’s no longer in school and her father’s trial has concluded. I won’t fuck that up for my own desires.