Chapter 27
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
“…she instantly knew who I was, and didn’t miss a beat that I wasn’t in costume.”
Vince was pumped, regaling his brothers with what had happened at the hospital. Not only had Inez immediately recognized him, her entire being had lit up upon seeing him.
She’d then succinctly and honestly, told him she didn’t need him for tricks or balloons, she simply liked him being there.
After some minor joking, they’d began to talk about Inez’s life.
That’s when Vince’s stoicism had started to crumble.
Hearing about all the things she’d gone through? From her perspective? It made him want to cry.
Inez was only six, but at three years old, Vince found out, she’d witnessed the deaths of her parents. She relayed those circumstances almost unemotionally.
One night, seemingly unprovoked, her father had grabbed a knife from the kitchen table where they’d all been eating dinner, and had stabbed her mother to death before walking away.
Moments later Inez had heard a gunshot. When she’d slipped from her chair and gone to see what had happened, she’d found her father lying in a pool of blood, having shot himself in the head.
Vince had gently asked the “why” of it, but Inez didn’t know. Nobody had ever told her.
Inez had calmly gone on to recall walking to a neighbor’s house.
After that, all she remembered was chaos, flashing lights, and a woman coming to take her away.
The most emotion Inez had exhibited, was when she’d talked about a beloved stuffed bear, Murphy, that she’d had to leave behind because the social worker who’d temporarily been charged with removing Inez from the scene, hadn’t retrieved the stuffie for her when she’d packed up Inez’s “necessities”.
Inez had cried for it, but the woman had ignored her pleas.
Vince had seen red at that point.
Unfeeling bitch.
He vowed to find out just who the woman was, and what had happened to the contents of Inez’s family home.
Technically, a court-appointed trustee would have been put in charge of any inheritance Inez might receive when she reached her majority.
Which meant everything from the childhood home Inez had described had to be stored somewhere.
Vince hoped that information would be available to him. If not, Tex would be able to dig up anything Vince would need.
Vince wanted that stuffed bear back in Inez’s hands, stat.
The little girl had then gone on to tell him about the four foster placements she’d had in the three years since she’d been a ward of the state.
The first had ended fairly quickly because a previous, older foster child had come forward and credibly accused the family of being…
bad people. Inez didn’t understand exactly what that had meant, and she’d been sad to leave that home because she’d had a foster sister who had read her beloved fairy-tales to her.
Inez had been shuffled on, to actually like the next home to which she’d been assigned. But the foster couple had found out, a year after taking Inez in, that they were pregnant with twins, and that the pregnancy was classified as high risk.
So, her foster parents had “returned her”.
Inez’s words, not Vince’s.
More tears had to be suppressed.
In the third home to which she’d been sent, Inez had been the only foster to an older couple, and had settled in pretty well, trying to be extra good so she wouldn’t have to move again. But then she’d gotten sick. Really sick.
Once the foster parents had been apprised of Inez’s cancer diagnosis, they’d decided they couldn’t handle the pressures that went along with the degree of caretaking that would be required, and had once again, thrown Inez back into the system.
Her current placement, out of all of them, was the one that made Vince bite the inside of his cheek to keep from screaming.
Inez had been there for a little over three months, and was clearly nothing more than a number to the people who’d taken her in. She was one of six foster siblings, and neither of the parents nor any of the other kids paid attention to her. At all.
The chatty, bitchy social worker to whom Inez had been assigned; the one who ferried her to and from appointments, took care of all the logistics, but didn’t really engage with Inez.
Vincent could at least take a small amount of comfort in the fact that the case-worker wasn’t completely incompetent, and that nobody in Inez’s current living situation was mean or abusive.
Still, it was all incredibly sad.
Everyone who’d come into Inez’s life up until this point were simply…indifferent.
As he relayed Inez’s story to his brothers, as well as to Tabbi, Jett, and Sheila who were all in the office, he got the same visceral reactions from them as he was experiencing, so he knew he wasn’t out of line.
“Don’t worry. Mom will make sure Inez gets placed with you,” Trask told him definitively.
“And if she can’t, we’ll have Tex pull some strings,” Buck declared staunchly. “But bro, once you have Inez, we’re all counting on you to turn your foster gig into an actual adoption, or we’ll make your life a living hell.”
He’d expect nothing different.
“Already on it,” Vince assured them.
There was no way Inez would remain a number as long as Vince had any say in it. He’d just yesterday procured a lawyer, a friend of the family, who’d told Vince he’d be happy to help make Inez a permanent Sothard, once his services were needed.
“Okay. Now that that’s squared away, what do you say?” Julian asked the group in general. “Is it lunch time?”
They’d waited on Vince to get back from the hospital to order, so they all looked to him.
“I am hungry,” he told them. “Subs? Pizza?”
“How about something from the new bistro down the street,” Tabbi posed. “I hear they have awesome Italian-to-go.”
“Or… What about Nate’s paninis at the Bear’s Claw?” Sheila put in.
Vince silently chuckled.
They all knew that Sheila had a crush on the barista, and she took every opportunity to volunteer to pick up food there.
“Paninis sound good,” Vince agreed easily because it would make Sheila happy. “If you—”
“Mayday, Mayday, Mayday. This is the vessel Water Wrestler. Two people overboard. I repeat. We have two people overboard.”
The emergency VHF channel that the shop monitored, lit up, immediately shattering the happy mood.
“That’s Lace’s boat,” Vince gasped, cold dread pooling in his stomach.
They all leaned closer to the radio, as if willing it to give them more information.
Vince white-knuckled the counter.
The local Coast Guard station in charge of the marine VHF emergency frequency, immediately got back to the boat. “Copy that Water Wrestler. We need your GPS coordinates.”
The young voice on the radio gave over their position.
The Coastie posed another question. “Do you have eyes on your subjects?”
“Negative,” the shaky voice came back. “Our helm is locked and we’re unable to turn around. We traveled…” He obviously turned to ask someone a question. “…maybe a quarter mile due south from where they went in before we were able to shut the engines down.”
“A quarter mile,” Vince spat, his nerves pinging like live wires had been strung throughout his body. “Fuck. It might as well be a hundred.”
They all knew that with the vagueries of the ocean, currents and weather were huge wildcards. Both unknowns could have the victims drifting well away from their original positions.
“Roger that,” the Coastie said. “Our helo is currently out on another emergency, but the USCGC Bunyan can be on site in…forty-five minutes.”
Too long.
Fuck.
Vincent was already on the move, pulling his phone from his pocket and barking orders over his shoulder.
“Buck. Call the Coastie you know at the local station and tell him we have a Night Stalker who’ll take us out.” He rattled off Obi-Wan’s tail numbers for clarity, then searched for Obi-Wan’s number.
His fingers shook as he scrolled, but when he finally found it, he punched it, hard.
Waiting for his connection to go through, he noted that Buck was already making contact with the Coast Guard station.
He was giving Vince the thumbs up, which meant they could proceed.
It was all the permission they needed to join the operation.
Come on, come on.
Obi-Wan’s phone rang five times before it went to voice mail.
Shit.
Vince hung up and tried again.
It rang twice.
Obi-Wan picked up on the second ring. “Yo. Vince. What’s up my man? We just got back from an epic hike. Sorry it took me so long to answer, but my phone was at the bottom of my pack. I—"
Vince cut him off, wasting no time. “We have an emergency situation.”
“Go.” Obi-Wan immediately dropped into mission-mode.
Vince’s four brothers, as well as Jett, followed him outside where they were all grabbing their diving gear from various vehicles.
Tabbi and Sheila hadn’t joined them. They’d man the office and monitor the radio.
“The boat Lace is on just called in with a man-overboard alert. Two victims,” Vince managed despite the tightness in his throat. He rattled off the GPS coordinates.
The group, as one, piled into a van they’d endlessly teased Buck about owning. But right now, Vince could kiss his brother’s hairy ass for ignoring them and hanging on to it.
They all fit in, with their gear and room to spare.
Buck put his foot to the floor, and was already careening down the street toward the Sothard compound before Vince could even get his seatbelt fastened.
He continued giving Obi-Wan as much as he knew.
“The Coast Guard helo is off on another rescue, and—”
“Say no more,” Obi-Wan interrupted. “Meet me at the back of the barn, ASAP. I’ll have my pre-flight complete and Belle ready to spin up as soon as you get here.”
“ETA, eight minutes,” Vince quickly figured out.
“Five,” Buck barked from the driver seat.
“Five it is,” Obi-Wan responded, clearly having heard Buck.
By the unevenness of the Night Stalker’s voice, the man was already on the run. “Don’t worry, Vince, we’ve got this,” he stated calmly.