Chapter 7
Come on, Moto. Pick up the goddamn phone.
Brett and the boys were alone in his truck. He kept a burner phone in his glove box for emergencies. He pulled it out and dialed Moto from HERO Force.
A baby let out a piercing cry. Brett’s hangover had long ago settled behind his forehead, the clawing pain reminding him of his own unsuitability as the guardian of absolutely anyone. “The military could use you as a weapon.” The crying intensified.
Fucking Moto. Answer the damn phone.
He drove through the empty early-morning streets, the pavement wet though the downpour had finally stopped. He felt physically ill, a knot having formed in his abdomen the moment he strapped the car seat bases tightly onto the bench seat of his truck.
There shouldn't be children in his vehicle. He was a man who liked to be alone. He didn’t want them here. Not for a night, not for an afternoon, and he damn sure didn’t want their car seats strapped tightly into anything that belonged to him.
Grace’s headlights shone in his rearview mirror. She was responsible for this, bending his arm backwards as if the fate of these children hinged solely on him.
You could have said no. She couldn’t force you to agree.
No, that had all been his doing, allowing her emphatic pleas to persuade him when he damn well knew better. “It’s only one day. You can do anything for one day.” He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel.
Besides, it wasn’t like he actually had to take care of the children.
That was what she was for. Nurse Ratchet, the fun ender, the woman who so clearly despised him and his way of life that irritating her had become a kind of sport.
But while he had been mostly kidding before now, his run-in with his next-door neighbor at the hospital tonight placed her firmly in the “people who piss me off” category.
Who did she think she was, anyway? Sticking her nose in where it didn’t belong, calling him selfish for not wanting to take the kids. And she’d gotten her way. He shook his head.
The line clicked. “Moto.”
“It’s about goddamn time,” snarled Brett.
“This isn’t a drive-thru. I’m not sitting around waiting to serve your punk ass, Champ.”
“It’s important.” He told Moto about the hit-and-run, the discovery of the van at the hospital, and gave him the plate number.
“Is that a baby crying?”
“Yeah.”
“I knew you liked ’em young, but Jesus…” Moto chuckled.
“Shut up. I need everything you’ve got on this guy. Where he lives, who he sleeps with, what he wears to bed, for God’s sake. Keep an eye out for any connection to Joni and Luke.”
“Got it. Should I ask why you’re babysitting at a time like this?”
“No. There’s something else. I need you to track down a Lorne Walker.” An image of his uncle’s wife flashed in his memory. “Between fifty and sixty years old, lived in Upstate New York about ten years ago. No idea where she is now.”
“Got it. Hey, is the kid yours? Because you’ve got to use protection every time, bud, not just if she’s ugly.”
“Call me on this number and let me know what you find out.” Brett hung up, tucking the phone in his pocket. “Asshole.” He was in no mood for Moto’s ribbing.
If only Brett knew why Joni and Luke were in town and what they were planning to do here, he’d have somewhere to start. But what the hell were they doing in the Hudson Valley, anyway?
He pictured his real cell phone on the railing of his deck, saturated like a sponge. He’d thrown the device in a bag of rice, and now he wondered if Joni had left him a message or text, telling him she was in the area.
What he would give to hear her voice again.
For a while there, she was calling him incessantly, and he’d felt the need to escape her good intentions. She was worried about him, their long-standing friendship making it her duty to follow up when he wasn’t okay, and God knows he hadn’t been okay in a hell of a long time.
And now she was gone. Grief drenched him, his eyes stinging.
He squeezed them shut, disallowing that emotion.
There would be time later to think about Joni and Luke, time to wonder what the hell had happened and how their lives might have been different if Brett hadn’t severed all ties with his friend.
The babies were suddenly quiet, and he hoped they were asleep.
Their backs were to him in little bucket seats that looked like Easter baskets.
How you were supposed to check on them when you couldn’t even see their faces, he had no idea.
He rounded a corner and pulled into the drive.
Grace pulled in beside him, and his irritation with her flared all over again as he climbed out of the truck. “I think they’re asleep.”
She nodded. “I’m going to run to the grocery store and get some formula.”
“What, and just leave me here with the babies?”
She jerked her head back. “I don’t see why not.”
“Because I don’t know what I’m doing. I told you that. You stay here, and I’ll go to the store.”
“You don’t know what kind to buy.”
“So, tell me.”
“Like I have children? I don’t buy baby formula. I have to look at the containers.”
“Just pick one. What’s the difference?”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “I don’t know what the difference is, which is why I would like to go to the store and pick one out.”
She was infuriating. First, she’d saddled him with these kids; now she was going shopping and leaving him alone with the boys. “Get in the truck. We’ll both go.”
“This is ridiculous. We don’t both have to go to the store—”
“Well, I’m not staying here without you, and you don’t trust me to buy powdered milk by myself, so it looks like we’re staying together.”
“It’s not powdered milk. It’s baby formula.”
“Which is probably ninety-nine percent powdered milk. You’re just looking for shit to fight about.”
“I’m looking for shit to fight about? I’m doing all this to help you and you’re being a cranky child.”
“I wouldn’t need any help if you hadn’t volunteered me for this wonderful opportunity. You are the one who wanted me to take the kids, remember?”
She laughed without humor. “Yes, I don’t think you’ll let me forget that anytime soon. You want to help shop for baby formula and diapers? Fine. Let’s go.” She climbed into his truck, slamming the door behind her. A baby let out a piercing cry.
“Nice job, Grace. Baby lesson number one. They don’t like it when you do that.”
She blew out air. “I’m already sorry I offered to do this.”
“Well, that makes two of us, sweetheart.”