Faith, Honor & Freedom (16 page)

“I’ll think about it,” I promise. She gives me a smile, and I force one in return. I open the little door on her incubator and slip my hand inside, running my fingers through her thick blonde hair. I’ve never seen a baby with so much before. If Jade doesn’t come back, she’s going to miss her first ponytail, her first tooth, her first steps, her first day of school—she’s going to miss it all. My stomach ties in knots. This sweet little baby could grow up never knowing the true love of her mother, possibly any mother. I make a mental note to light a candle for her.

I rub my finger along her little cheeks, feeling her warmth. She nestles into my touch, resting her head against my hand. Tears start falling down my cheeks, and I use my free hand to wipe them away. “You’re going to be all right little one, have faith. I’m going to find your Momma,” I promise. I move to pull my hand away, but I can’t bring myself to do it. I wait close to an hour before she finally moves her head to the other direction in her sleep.

I bend down and whisper into the incubator, “Goodbye, sweet girl.”

I leave the NICU without bothering to find her nurse and say goodbye. I rush out to my jeep and break down in tears—the sobs causing my body to shake viciously. It’s not fair. None of this is fair. I curse Jade for leaving that poor sweet child alone in there without her mother. She has nobody, and it breaks my heart. I remember her letter tucked into my pocket and open it angrily. I take a deep breath, trying to calm myself before I begin reading.

Lana,

I hope someday you will be able to forgive me for what I’ve done. I know you probably think I’m a terrible person right now, but I promise, I’m only trying to do the best thing for her. I didn’t grow up with a nice mom and dad like you did. I grew up with a mom and dad who were always high on drugs, and when they weren’t passed out, they were physically and mentally abusive. They were pushing me to do drugs with them, and worst of all, they had friends over. Friends who, when I was younger, used to be too grabby. I guess at the time, I didn’t know it was a bad thing; I just knew I didn’t like it.

Eventually, after mom and dad passed out, though, their friends would start taking things further. I’d scream and fight back at first, but nobody ever heard me, and if they did, they certainly didn’t care. I used to wonder if my parents sold me for another fix. We lived in a rough neighborhood, and the screams of couples fighting, or people high on drugs, were constant, and so mine were drowned among them or silenced by a rough hand, a dirty sock, or even a good slug to the face.

It wasn’t until a health class in school that I knew what was actually happening to me. I knew it was wrong, but I also didn’t know how to stop it. I was humiliated by it. How couldn’t I be? I would try and hide when their male friends came over, but they always managed to find me. After a while, I noticed that I stopped my period. My belly started getting bigger, and I finally figured out what was happening to me.

I didn’t want this baby, Lana. I used to cry at night, praying God would have mercy on me, and would take her from my belly, give her a good father, and put her into the belly of a wanting mother. The next time one of their junkie friends tried to come at me, I hit them in the head with a baseball bat I found in the alley, grabbed my bags, and ran. I haven’t looked back since.

I know you probably think it was cruel that I didn’t even want to see her face, but I was petrified of recognizing her father, and wanting to go back and kill him for doing this to her, and to me. She didn’t deserve this—she didn’t ask for this, either. It’s my hope that if she’s brought up by a loving mother, the evil her father put into her will eventually fade away.

I don’t have that kind of love to give. It’s not about the money; I’m sure we could get by, but, I know deep down in my heart that I will never love her like a mother should love her child. I would always see her father, and I would always be reminded of that powerlessness I felt, that fear. I can’t live like that, and I don’t want her to have to either.

When Marnie told me about you, she told me she knew the perfect person who could help me give birth. She said you loved kids, but you didn’t have any of your own. She said you could help me find a doctor and get back on my feet. I figured that anybody kind enough to do that for a stranger had to be a good person. I was still too scared to call you, though, scared you would see how young I was, and turn me away. I started getting small contractions, and I knew she would be coming soon, so I finally bit the bullet and called. You seemed so compassionate and accepting.

I know I’m young, and I know I’m not very smart, but I think she will be. I read to her every night, hoping she would be smarter than I was and have a better life. It wasn’t much, just an old school book, but I think she liked it.

After I met you, I knew you would be the perfect person to take care of her. You’re wonderful with babies, and you have a loving family. You saw the good in me, and there isn’t much left to find. Maybe you can see the good in her, too? She deserves that. Please, don’t try and find me. I promise you that I’m going to be okay. I have a plan, and I hope to someday go back to school, get a job, and stay away from my parents. I’d like to say I’ll be back to see you both someday, but I know my heart will never be able to handle that kind of pain.

Please, please, Lana, take care of this sweet baby girl. Give her a home where somebody loves her, and where she won’t be scared to sleep at night and get out of bed every morning. Make sure she never knows where she came from. I might not ever be able to love her because of her father, but that doesn’t make her any less special. I’m so sorry for doing it this way, but I know you would never have agreed to it otherwise.

Jade.

I force myself to start breathing again, and when I do, all hell breaks loose. I feel sorrow for Jade, hatred for her parents, and I’m unable to sort out the feelings and thoughts running rampant in my mind for that poor baby. The plan is not a plan at all. It’s naïve, and it’s hurtful. I don’t want Jade’s baby. I want Jade to have her baby, as selfish as that is.

I watch as a father and his young son walk by and look into my car peculiarly. I’m sure my crying was loud enough that it caught their attention. I give the father a small nod, letting him know I’m all right and then lay my head against the steering wheel. I don’t want to sort through all of this right now. I just want to crawl into my bed and sleep for the rest of the day. I grab the box of tissues, dry my face, blow my nose, and take a few calming breaths.

“Shit,” I mutter before starting the engine.

I drive home cautiously, scanning the streets for Jade, on the off chance that she might be there. Even if she doesn’t want her baby, and now I almost understand why,
she
still needs help. She needs somewhere to live, and she needs to find someone else to take care of her baby. I’m not married, I live off of a meagre salary and my brother’s savings, and most of all, I want my own baby. A baby I created with a man who I love. I feel the tears start to trickle down my face and force myself to think of something else. I switch on the radio, and blare some Journey, singing loudly to the words of “Don’t Stop Believing
.
”

Pulling in my driveway, I feel relief beyond words. I head straight for my bedroom once I’m inside, flopping down onto my bed. I close my eyes, and try and find sleep, but it doesn’t come easily. Instead I read the letter again, feeling the pain Jade must have been feeling while she wrote it. I think about my only lead to finding her—Hoss.

He had received a call about another woman they’d found. Another woman like Jenny? One with a big family, maybe even kids of her own? My stomach churns at the thought. As much as I know Hoss dislikes me right now, I still can’t help myself from pulling out my phone and texting him to make sure he’s all right. He might be ready to throw away decades worth of friendship, but I’m clinging on to whatever we have left.

Lana – Was just thinking about you. Are you okay? It isn’t anyone we know, is it?

Hoss – Nobody we know. Still fucking terrible.

Lana – Of course it is. I’m sorry … I didn’t mean to sound insensitive. Her life was still just as important. After Jenny, I’m just scared
.

I push my head back into the bed and close my eyes. I probably shouldn’t have texted him while I’m unable to form a coherent thought. I still have no idea what in the world is going on between us, and here I am making small talk through a text message. I really need to see him and ask what happened the other night, but it seems ludicrous while there are so many other pressing issues in our lives right now.

Hoss – I know. I’m just here now, pissed off at the world. I want to catch this prick. Gotta go, I’ll message you if I find anything out about Jade.

Lana – Thanks Weston, and please, come by when you’re not busy. We really need to talk
.

I feel my stomach do an uneasy turn while waiting for his reply.

Hoss – I can’t Lana. Take care of yourself.

Lana – What do you mean by that?

Unfortunately, I never do find out. I cry myself to sleep, waiting for a reply that never comes.

Chapter 12

Hoss

I look across the room at the victim, still sprawled out on her bed as the forensic team searches her body for evidence. Twenty-three year old Candace Delaney, college student, lived with her parents who are currently on vacation in Hawaii. Parker is trying to locate them now. Her boyfriend, who came by to see why she wasn’t answering his texts, discovered her. We have him down at the station now, but I don’t think any cop here believes he’s a suspect. This crime scene has all the details our serial killer leaves behind, most of which haven’t been released to the public.

She’s laying belly up on the bed, stretched across, all four limbs bound by the corner posts of the bed. He’d taken his time with her, bruises covering her entire body. Her mascara-stained tears still streaked down her face. I’m reminded of Lana when she came into the station earlier today, completely distraught.

I take a breather and walk out of the cramped room and into the front yard. The thought that any person could do this to a woman is fucking revolting, but the thought that it could be Lana, makes me want to kill every motherfucker that comes near her. There are forensic teams inside and out, just praying for a slip up, no matter how minor. We still haven’t found a point of entry into the house, which means she likely let him in through her front door. That, or she left it unlocked.

Shit. I head out to my truck, and call a few shelters I know that are in the area. If I can’t help this girl, maybe I can at least help Lana.

Every single number turns up with nothing. I use the internet on my iPhone to find some numbers for out of town shelters, and try my luck there. They, too, turn up with nothing, but at least her name and description are now out there in case she surfaces.

I wonder what to do about Lana. I don’t want her staying in her house, on the same street that psycho has already hit. I also don’t want her within a ten-mile radius of me right now. I wonder if she’ll switch places with me until this guy is behind bars. Knowing Lana, she’ll refuse, but bringing up Rhett, as low as it seems, usually gets her to listen to reason.

I feel a pang of regret, just thinking of his name. He was practically my brother, and I betrayed him like he meant nothing to me. He’d always loved me as a friend, but he knew she deserved better, and deep down, I do, too. The life of a detective’s wife is far from glamorous, and the side effects from the work we do can be terrible: depression, fatigue, alcoholism. Yeah, a great cocktail for a bright future.

So far, I’ve managed to evade them all. I probably drink too much, but when you’ve wanted the one thing you can’t have your entire fucking life, it would drive anyone to drink. I guess there have been other girls to fill the void, and while some of them were a great fuck, they were also an emotionless one—a few I’d been tempted to date, but in the end, they weren’t Lana, and they never would be.

I still remember the moment I fell in love with her. Not some bullshit hormonal filled lust, but truly fell for her.

I’m home for the summer, during my second year of college, working on my criminal justice degree while I wait to turn twenty-one and enter the force. Fortunately, I have Rhett to keep me company and wait it out with me. I was itching to get into the academy. College got out in April, and it’s Lana’s grad year. I spend most of my time at Rhett’s since it’s closer to the moving company we are both working for. It pays well, and we can pick and choose the jobs we want to take, giving us the free time we crave.

June rolls around, and with it comes Lana’s prom. I’ve been in a foul mood since she mentioned Jonathan Baikie was taking her. Her mother is in her glory, and her father, Rhett and I are all in pissy moods, knowing what usually comes after prom. We sit in the living room, having a beer, until we hear the knock on the front door. I can’t help the growl that springs from my throat. Rhett gives me a knowing look, so I cover with, “she’s like a sister to me, man.”

We all crowd into the front entryway to greet him. Ha, more like intimidate the fucker. Steve opens the front door with a look that could kill.

“Hey Mr. C,” Jonathan says, walking in through the front door. I close my eyes to keep from lashing out. Disrespectful piece of shit.

“Jonathan,” Steve says firmly, extending his hand. Jonathan places his hand in Steve’s, giving him a weak-ass looking handshake.

“Pussy,” I mutter under my breath. Rhett shoots me another look, but I watch as he also tries to stifle a laugh. It’s Lana’s day, and while neither of us want to ruin it for her, we sure as fuck want to ruin his plans for tonight.