Magic Rising (22 page)

Sabrine had confided so much in Deirdre but she’d never returned the favor. There was a double standard where Deirdre was concerned. For Sabrine to open up, talk about her real feelings, made Sabrine seem stronger in Deirdre’s eyes. The same wouldn’t work in reverse. She couldn’t tell her old friend about the lack of family, the ceremonies. Hell, even as an adult, Deirdre didn’t feel like a real person. Something in her had been severed as a child. She couldn’t relate or even feel.

I wonder what it’s like to live in a world with a full spectrum of emotions.

No, that wasn’t right either. Ever since she heard about a little girl in danger she’d felt such a rush of pain and anxiousness that it sickened her. That little girl was stuck in her thoughts and the knowledge of a child at risk from another one of those places worked to reconnect the most terrifying parts of her mind. And it brought the unthinkable, uninhibited emotion. Things she wanted buried and to never see the light of day.

“I’m sorry.”

That was all she could think to say. Tech had a point, but Deirdre had been on her own for so long, she wasn’t sure how much to tell or what the relevance would be. They were friends, and she couldn’t imagine running Security Specialists without them, but what right did that give them to her history.

She contemplated this. If the roles were reversed, she would demand answers. Things risking her life could potentially harm the company. She knew Sabrine and Tech didn’t follow the cold logic though. They were worried about her. Still, she could only see the troubles brought on because of this. It came down to their livelihoods being in jeopardy and perhaps their lives.

“You need to know. A man from my past named Niam brought some of his men and assaulted me outside the office. I was outmanned, but the cops came barreling in, sirens blaring, and the guys took off.”

“Are you okay? What does this have to do with Ryan Farmer?”

Deirdre touched the cut in her shirt, felt the wound stopping at her rib. Niam’s shot had been sloppy, not sliding between the bones as it should have. Cutting into her chest muscles hurt like a bitch but she was alive. He’d let her live on purpose.

“I’m fine. The thing with Farmer happened in my home. He broke in wanting to kill me but Niam, or one of his men, shot Farmer first. I called an ambulance and I think Farmer will make it. After that I went to the office. Niam tracked me there and that’s when the fight took place.” She tried to tell everything in its simplest form. There was no reason to add in the burning pain still marking her stomach or their desire to take her back with them. “I’m almost at the Shope farm now. Why don’t you get some sleep? I’ll call you in a few hours.”

“I don’t think I can sleep.”

“Then call Sabrine and she’ll put you to sleep. Either way you’re no use to me if you’re tired. Mistakes are too easy to make.”

He groaned as if stretching and then Deirdre heard the vinyl in his chair make a farting sound as he settled into place. “I don’t make mistakes.” His voice was deadened with fatigue.

“Tech!”

“Fine.”

“One more thing. Be careful. There are people out to get me and they might use leverage to do it. They’re mean, Tech. Meaner than anything you’ve ever faced.”

Leverage was a nicer way than to come out and tell him that his life was in danger. He understood all the same, saying goodbye, in that careful way. At least he’d get some rest. The situation had grown into something serious and he would want to stay sharp.

The scenery became a long line of barbed wire fences and woods separating the pastures. Deirdre turned right, following another choppy road. This one didn’t have fresh gravel, only hard compacted dirt.

Ten minutes later, Deirdre came across an old, two-story farmhouse with a wrap-around porch, and an old tin roof. A black woman sat on the front steps, pulling off her gardening gloves while a young girl ran around the back. As Deirdre parked, she saw the butt of a rifle from behind the post on the porch. It seemed that good old Gladys was packing.

Deirdre parked the car. Her weapons were back in place since the altercation with Niam. She didn’t want to show them though. Fear could be a powerful emotion and people were stupid when cornered. It was best to keep them though. There was no telling what Deirdre would have to face next.

“Gladys Shope?”

“No,” the old woman replied, her dead, cold eyes staring at Deirdre from the white curly head topping her chocolate-colored skin.

“My name is Deirdre Flye. Your granddaughter Lora called my office.” Deirdre went forward, watching the lady’s movements. “I run Security Specialists, the security agency that apprehended your son. Upon detaining him for the police, he asked that I help his daughter, Lora Shope.”

“I guess you helped her fine.” The lady stayed seated. She wore a denim shirt on top of a tank top with who knows what hidden in the fabric. “He’s dead. I don’t think any more of us want your help.”

“The cops messed up. That doesn’t mean I won’t honor Jack Shope’s request or that of a phone call left on my answering machine from Lora Shope.” Deirdre stopped eight feet from the porch steps. “May I come up or do you intend to shoot me?”

“You can come up. I ain’t decided on the shootin’ part yet.” There wasn’t the slightest bit of humor on the old woman’s face.

“Fair enough.”

Deirdre went up the stairs and sat next to the woman on the floor of the porch. She liked the look of this old farm. Everything was organized, simple and beautiful. It hadn’t been used for farming in a long time. The nearby pasture grew high with weeds. There were no cattle or crops to be seen. Gladys had changed the setting to a kid’s wonderland. Flowers grew in front and Deirdre saw the edge of a tree house on the outskirts of the woods. In the back, part of a swing set could be seen from the sidewalk.

“Start talking.” The old woman kept staring straight ahead.

Confronting Gladys wouldn’t be easy. This woman was frightened, hardened by fear, and it would be difficult for her to trust anyone. Regardless, Deirdre had to try. There was a little girl’s life at stake.

“Ma’am, I took a job from Tamara Haas. It looked like a cut and dry security run with a stalker. Tamara claimed she feared for her life. Not long after, your son arrived with a pistol. As I continued to investigate, there were inconsistencies.”

“That’s a bunch of hogwash. At one time she loved Jack. She’s the one who called him and tried to reconcile. It was stupid for him to go out there. I tried to tell him but he had this idea that Lora needed a mother. That child don’t need that skinny white woman as a mother.”

Deirdre watched Gladys. Her old hands wrung together as she spoke and that’s where her focus seemed to be. She wouldn’t look Deirdre in the eyes, only watch her hands rub each other.

“So Tamara Haas is your granddaughter’s mother?”

“You won’t take her back to that bitch.” Gladys reached for her rifle but Deirdre reached around her, moving it from the lady’s grasp.

“Ma’am, I’m not here to take away Lora. I’m here to protect her. I’m just not sure what from. I was hoping you could help fill in some holes for me.”

The older lady looked at Deirdre. Her deep brown eyes stared from puffy skin. It looked like she’d been crying for days. She had to deal with the death of her son and the sudden threat to her granddaughter.

“What do you need to know?”

“I’m assuming Lora is the product of Jack’s marriage to Tamara. I’m just not sure why Tamara would give up custody only to set up Jack and reclaim Lora. None of it makes sense.”

Tears filled Gladys’s eyes and she pressed her lips together in a tight line. Pure hate showed behind the pain and Deirdre thought the old woman might reach for the rifle again.

“At least you believe she set him up. He didn’t believe it until the end.” With a long sigh she began. “Twelve years ago Tamara shows up on his doorstep and leaves that baby girl. She didn’t want joint custody, just left her.” Gladys started pulling the hem of her shirt, nearly ripping it as she spoke. “Last year that skeezer comes back. At first Jack turned her away. He had a proper black girlfriend.” Gladys looked at Deirdre, stared at her white skin then lowered her eyes once more. “I don’t mean to be cruel but I never liked the idea of him hooking up with white women. He shoulda stuck to his own kind. Whites like you don’t understand us.”

“Let’s move on. Now why did Tamara come back?”

“She wanted visitation to her daughter. Little Lora didn’t know who she was. Next thing we know, she tried to kidnap Lora.” Gladys bit her bottom lip. “Tamara tried to pick her up from softball practice. Good thing the coach is strict. Damn good thing.”

Gladys hesitated. Something troubled her and it wasn’t the race of the women Jack chose to date. Her skin turned gray and she looked so pale Deirdre reached out fearing the woman would pass out.

“I need to know everything.”

“It’s the Colinsters. That’s Tamara Haas’ real last name. They have something big going. It happened years ago. They were followers and they wanted Lora. That’s why Tamara brought Lora to Jack. She was trying to protect her from those monsters. That’s what they were. They had a school and they wanted my grandbaby. Something big brought it all down. Lora wasn’t safe though. That father of Tamara’s wouldn’t stop. He’s building it again, but now he’s got Tamara on his side and they want Lora.”

Deirdre didn’t understand. Her story wasn’t making sense. A woman leaves her daughter to protect her, then comes back, risking everything to help in a larger conspiracy brought on by her father.

“I’m sorry. I don’t follow. Are you saying Tamara wanted to protect her daughter but then changed her mind, or did she think Jack couldn’t take care of her?”

From the back of the house a blood chilling scream brought Deirdre and Gladys to their feet. Deirdre moved first, running around the side in time to see two men, one had a little girl on his shoulder, the other a gun.

Deirdre drew her knives while running through the grass and leaves that made up the backyard. Without uttering a single warning she threw, hitting the gunman behind the knee and sending two more blades into the man carrying the girl. Both fell to the ground. The little girl scrambled but her captor held tight. Deirdre sent another knife into his back, between the shoulder blades. He grunted and the girl took off.

The first man found his gun in the leaves and lifted it. Deirdre’s last knife went into his hand. A single shot went off from the man’s gun, flying wild and connecting with a nearby oak tree. Bark scattered into the grass, along with drops of his blood from the knife wound. The two men didn’t stay down long. Both hobbled to their feet and started toward the woods.

“I’ll get ’em.” She heard Gladys, running and breathless. “I’ll teach those bastards.”

Gladys had her rifle raised. Deirdre got out of the way, knowing the odds of shooting two moving targets at this distance were slim. She trotted to the side, then behind Gladys where little Lora stood.

The girl was beautiful but didn’t look anything like the blonde child Tamara had been filmed loading onto the airplane. The one from the plane had been very blonde, pale skinned, dressed like a little Republican. The real Lora had a light tan with medium-textured hair, very straight, from her mother’s side. Her cheekbones were high and narrow, and she had the biggest dark brown eyes Deirdre had ever seen. Lora wore jeans with a T-shirt saying Princess and little sneakers. One day she would be a heartbreaker.

“I take it, you’re Lora.” Deirdre spoke as Gladys fired five times, causing both of them to jump.

“Are you the lady I called?” Her head tilted to the side as if deciding whether to start running again.

“I am.” Deirdre glanced toward the empty woods while Gladys shook her fist into the air. She had missed both of them. “Why did you call me?”

“At my dad’s place, I overheard that woman telling Daddy that you were the best. Grammy said not to call you because you’d helped that woman. I told her that you might’ve been fooled like Daddy and maybe you’d realized that you’d made a mistake.”

That woman
, it was an interesting way to refer to one’s mother. She couldn’t imagine calling her own mother that woman. Scorpion was a term of respect, not as grand as Mother but it was superior to an anonymous gender.

“What else did Tamara say about me?”

“Not much.” Lora kicked at the ground, getting a leaf caught in the laces in her sneaker. “We were in some hotel. Dad wanted to know why she’d set him up. I don’t know what they were talking about. I thought they were getting along. They even went away for the weekend. Anyway, that woman said she wanted me to go with her but Dad told her no. I think he said something bad to her because they got really quiet, you know, whispering. That woman said she’d have me. They fought, ‘cause then I heard screaming. Anyway she said there was nothing he could do about it because she’d hired the best security in town, Security Specialists, with a woman running it named Dragonfly.” Lora moved from side to side as she spoke. “I remembered the name because it was weird. I like dragonflies and all, but I never heard it used as a name before.”

How did she know that name? Tamara shouldn’t have known that name.

Deirdre tried to put the pieces together. Lora was a mistake, something Tamara thought would come back to haunt her. She set up Jack to get Lora, but why? If she were ashamed of Lora, it would be better to let the girl fade into the background.