Chapter 61 – Grant
CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE
GRANT
“How long you going to do this, man?”
“Do what?” I ask as I turn down Serenity Court.
“You’re too close to this case,” Nate says as I pull the cruiser to the curb and put it in park. There are cars in the driveway, the garage door is closed, and there are lights on inside. “How are you going to explain why you’re in their front yard if Davis comes waltzing out? That doesn’t exactly look good. I mean . . . what if he is abusing them, you snooping around constantly looks like a perfect case of police interference, planting evidence, discrimination—Jesus, just about anything people accuse cops of these days.”
I hang my head and drum my thumbs on the wheel, knowing he’s one hundred percent right.
“I promised her, Nate.” It’s the only explanation I can give before I hop out of the car and jog the few feet across the street to the driveway.
This is the last time.
Nate’s right.
And just as I agree with myself, I turn the corner of the walkway and freeze. Sitting there in a garden of rocks that hasn’t had a new one added to it for the past three weeks is a freshly painted rock.
It’s red with black seeds.
Oh, shit.
And it’s sitting prominently on top of all the others.
It feels like it takes me a second to register what I’m seeing, but I damn well know what it is because my fist is banging on the door without a second thought.
“Sunnyville Police, open up.”
Bang. Bang. Bang.
“Open the goddamn door.”
Bang. Bang. Bang.
“Mr. Davis, open the door. I know you’re home.”
Bang. Bang. Bang.
“What the fuck is going on, Grant?” Nate says, already out of breath as he runs up behind me.
The turning of locks startles me, even though it’s exactly what I’m asking for. My hand is on the butt of my gun, my temper a rush of adrenaline that has that hand trembling.
“Keely, don’t open the door—” Davis shouts from somewhere inside the house, but the sound drowns out to a white buzz when I look down to see her standing there.
Her cheek is bruised beneath her eye.
Her bottom lip is cracked, and there is some dried blood smudged in the corner.
And more than anything is the way she looks at me.
Haunted.
Like I failed her.
Withdrawn.
Like I didn’t get to her in time.
Petrified.
Like I didn’t save her.
For a second, the picture of Emerson that fell from the folder flashes in my mind and the two of them meld together.
Emmy and Keely.
Keely and Emmy.
They could be one and the same.
“Don’t do it, Grant,” Nate warns, already grabbing my arm and trying to drag me back a step. “Don’t do it.”
“Do you have a warrant?” Mr. Davis says as he stands there with a cocky smirk.
“I have probable cause,” I say, lifting my chin toward his daughter.
“You don’t have shit,” he sneers. “She fell running up the stairs earlier. Got banged up real good, too, but we kissed it and made it all better. So, since you have no authority to be here.” He strides the short distance to the front door. “Then good bye.”
My palm is on the door slamming it back to prevent it from closing. Keely shrinks at the sound, and Davis curses at me.
“Grant,” Nate cautions, but all I can think of is willingly letting this little girl go back into this house.
Her blood is on my hands.
Keely isn’t Emmy.
I don’t have probable cause.
She asked for help.
Emmy isn’t Keely.
I don’t have any cause other than a rock painted like a watermelon.
“Get inside, Keels,” he demands, but never once looks at her. Tension ratchets with each second that we stare at each other, the predictability of what’s going to happen next changes with each and every one of my thoughts.
“No.” My hand is on her shoulder, keeping her put as she swivels those big, blue eyes of hers from her dad to me and back again, both of us wanting her for different things—I want to protect her, and he wants to hide his abuse.
“Man, we don’t have the auth?—”
“I don’t care about parental privilege.”
“Get inside the house,” Davis growls.
I look at Nate and then back to Keely. I couldn’t give a rat’s ass about her piece-of-shit father, but I know what I have to do, and Nate is going to kill me for it.
Without warning, I stoop down and pick Keely up. “She isn’t going back in there.” I half expect to be attacked from behind as I walk down the path. I prepare for it, but it never comes. Though, Nate is swearing and Davis is shouting.
Or possibly Nate is holding Davis back while I jog away with his daughter.
With the evidence.
I don’t have a plan. I don’t have anything thought out other than there is no way in hell I am letting her go back into that house with that jerk and her compliant mother. Keely’s little hands grip my neck, and her sniffles fill my ears.
All I can say is, “I’ve got you, sweetheart. I’ve got you.”
I press my hand to her back and make it as big as possible so she feels protected, but I fear there will never be enough protection for her.
The system fails.
Look at Emerson.
Nate’s call from his on-person radio goes out for backup as Davis’s shouts fill the quiet cul-de-sac.
By the time I reach the cruiser, my hands are shaking. I know I’m in the wrong, but I don’t fucking care.
“What are you doing, man?” Nate says as he jogs down the path, out of breath and more than flustered.
“Where’s the mom?” I say, worried about what else we’ll find inside.
“Not home.”
“Bullshit. Search the house. Make sure she’s all right.”
“On what premise? You know we can’t do that.” Nate blows out a breath as neighbors start coming out from their houses and standing on the curb as the blue and red sirens light up the night like a carnival attraction.
“Well check.”
Keely clings to me, her whimper at the sound of her dad bellowing is all I need to hear to know I’m doing the right thing.
“Hey, sweetheart, is your mommy home?”
“She’s in the shower,” she barely whispers in my ear.
I glare at Nate as another cruiser burns down the street and comes to an abrupt stop beside us.
“Hey, Keely?”
“Yeah.”
“I know you’re scared right now. There’s lots of shouting and lights flashing, and I know you’re confused, but I need you to trust me,” I say into her ear as Nate gives the new officers on scene a rundown of what’s going on. “Have you ever wanted to see the inside of a police car?” She nods ever so slightly without lifting her head from my shoulder. “It’s super cool. Can I show you mine?”
Another nod as I open the back door and slide into the backseat with her still clinging to me. It takes a minute for us to adjust and get comfortable, but her fingers never let go of their grip.
For a little girl used to seeing the worst in people, she is so trusting. The thought kills me. Her innocence has been tainted. Her ability to believe in happily ever after skewed.
“See? Nice and cozy.” Outside the open car door I see Officer Lou talking to Davis on the sidewalk and assume Amelia is inside talking to Lou’s partner. Nate’s at the trunk of their car on his cell with someone—probably CPS.
“Maybe when you’re not so scared I can let you turn the lights on and off and sound the siren.” She doesn’t respond. “Can I ask you something?” I say smoothing a hand down her hair. “How’d you get that bruise on your cheek?”
I feel her chest shudder against mine, and her fingers slowly release from around my neck as she voluntarily crawls off my lap and sits in the seat beside me. She studies her fingers for a long time before finally speaking.
“I fell on the stairs and hit my face,” she murmurs.
“That’s a big fall. Did you cry?” She nods but doesn’t look at me in the eyes. “If you didn’t fall on the stairs . . . you know, like if you got hurt in some other way, you could tell me and I wouldn’t be mad.”
“’Kay.”
We sit in silence as I figure out how to get the truth from her. If she doesn’t talk and if her mom protects her dad, then we have no grounds to keep her out of the house. Silence eats up the car as the crowd of onlookers grows.
“Keely?”
“Hmm?”
“Why did you use our secret code?” She shrugs, but I can see her bottom lip trembling. “Did something happen that made you think you needed help?”
Another shrug.
Another loss for how to talk to her.
“Is my daddy in trouble?” she whispers, and I fumble with how to answer.
“If he hurt you, then yes. Just like in school, you can’t hurt people without getting in trouble. It’s the rules.” She nods. “Did he hurt you, Keely?”
She looks at me for the first time since I picked her up. Those eyes so wise beyond their years as she stares at me. Tears well until she finally blinks and releases them down her cheeks.
Tell me, please.
Car doors shut around us. Nate yells something to Lou. But I sit in the back of my cruiser with this little girl and will her to let me protect her.
To save her.
To do what I couldn’t for Emerson.
After a few moments, she pulls her knees up to her chest, curls into a ball, stares out the window, and slides her hand into mine.
If I thought my heart was broken before, she just shattered it.