Seeking Me To Find You (Finding You Series Book 1) (26 page)

“Are you smokin’ crack, dude?”

“I think that’s the most normal thing that you’ve said to me in a long time,” Ben says chuckling. “No, just wanted to get a gauge on where your head was at today.”

“What do you mean?”

“Ever since you and Grace broke up, you both have been a pain in my ass. You making recruits bury lizards and her snapping at me when I’m just doing what her father asked me to do.”

“What do you mean, doing what her father asked you to do?”

Silence.

“Ben, what do you mean? Why are you talking to her father?”

Silence.

“Ben, you better start talking before I find a way to jerk your ass through this phone and then beat you with it.”

“Dude, she asked me not to tell you.”

“Damn it Ben, what are you not supposed to tell me?” I growl.

Letting out a large audible sigh, Ben starts, “The day you left, her ex-boyfriend confronted her at her house.”

“What?”
I think I’m going to have a coronary.

“Calm down. Things are okay.”

“Okay?” I roar.

“Now Jackson.”

“Don’t ‘now Jackson’ me, asshole. Why didn’t you call me?”

“I thought we already went over this one,” Ben says with a faded chuckle.

“Damn it Ben. I don’t find this funny. Why didn’t you call me?”

“She’s scary dude. She made me promise not to tell you. She looked at me as if she would infiltrate my sleep like Freddy Kruger and slice me up.”

“Really? She’s barely five foot two. I don’t think she even breaks a hundred pounds.”

“She has this can of mace that she carries at all times. Just yesterday she threatened to shove it down my throat if I continued to wait outside until she got into her house.”

Silence. My silence.

“Jackson? Are you still there?”

“Why. Are. You. Waiting. For. Her. To. Enter. Her. Home?” I roar.

“Well…”

“Ben, seriously, I’m not playing. What the hell is going on?”

At record pace Ben begins to explain. “Her ex came to get her back and she said no. He got mad and threatened her. She called her father. He came down. They called the police. He asked me and Adam to keep an eye on her. They got a restraining order. A security system was installed. Adam and I are still keeping an eye on her per explicit instructions from her father and stepdad. Did you know that her stepdad is former recon and her father was a Hollywood agent? It’s so hard to keep all the players straight.”

My brain is trying to process all of this info Ben is rapidly firing at me. I’m so fuckin’ pissed at this moment that I’m about to pack my shit up right now and leave.

“Jackson?”

“I’m here.”

“Jackson, you need to finish the week out with your mom. Adam and I are okay with watching her until you get back.”

“When I get back, we’ll be going back to work. Who will be looking after her then?”

“Jackson, she’s going to get pissed with people up her ass 24/7. Again, mace. Shoved. Down. My. Throat,” he explains.

“I know, man. But I feel helpless. She’s the girl that I love. I should be there looking out for her instead of you, Jackass.”

“Whoa. Did you just say you love her?” Ben asks.

“I know this sounds girly but I love her with every fiber of my soul.”

“Then you need to do what you think is best,” Ben points out.

“Let me talk with my mom and I will give you a call in the morning.”

“Later.”

“Later.”

Hanging up the phone, I stand looking over the farm. The clouded moon has casted a hazy glow over the ridge in the distance, which gives me a sense of peace I’ve never experienced. Instantly, I realize what I have to do.

“Mom,” I yell as I enter the house.

Coming around the corner in a fright, mom runs smack into me. Both of us stumble back and she knows. She always knows.

“You need to go, son. Remember that I love you and I’m always here if you need me.”

Picking her up, I embrace her with everlasting love.

*

When I arrive
into town, I take note of the time. Grace should be leaving work in about a half hour. A strange feeling comes over me. I have this sense of urgency to see her.

When I pull into the lot I spot her car right away. Hair prickles on my neck when I notice a silver Mercedes with heavily tinted windows idling in the spot beside her car. Two things strike me as odd. One is that the Mercedes is revving the engine and two, the person is standing on the break. Why would the person not have the car in park?

As my mind is processing the scene, I see Grace walk out of the building talking to another woman. Both of them are oblivious of their surroundings. As soon as Grace steps one foot off the curb, the person in the Mercedes guns it and screeches towards both of the women. In what seems to be happening in slow motion, the other woman pushes Grace backwards causing Grace to escape being hit. Unfortunately the other woman ends up being clipped by the speeding lunatic causing her to roll across the coarse asphalt.

As I jump out of my car, I simultaneously call 911. Grace is screaming for help while securing the woman’s head so she cannot move.
Oh my god. It’s her friend Rory.
The moment Grace finds my eyes, she immediately locks on to me with a pleading of help.

“Jackson, you have to help her.”

“Yes, St. Michael’s School for Girls,” I respond to the dispatcher.

“Grace.”

Grace continues to hold Rory’s head but seems to be going in shock herself.

“Grace! Look at me.”

Seeming to come around a bit, Grace answers, “Yes.”

“Is this Rory?”

Grace nods her head yes.

“Do you know if Rory has any medical conditions?” I ask sternly.

“No. Not that she’s mentioned.”

Within minutes, sirens with multiple colored lights infiltrate the area and the staff pours out of the school. The medics immediately take over for Grace by placing Rory on a backboard. I notice that Rory is coming around and begins to put up a fight. Grace rushes by her side and holds her hand while medics assess her injuries and try to get answers to questions they have.

In one swift move, the medics load Rory in the awaiting ambulance. When Grace tries to get in with her, the police officer stops her. “Miss, we need to speak with you.”

“But I need to go with her,” Grace says desperately.

A man who identifies himself as the Principal of the school says that he will ride to the hospital with Rory. He explains that the school has already been in contact with her parents and they’ll meet her there. I ask one of Grace’s co-workers if she wouldn’t mind getting water for Grace. Without hesitation the lady that introduces herself as Harper rushes back in the school to hunt down my request.

The brawny police officer has ushered Grace to a nearby bench. She’s sitting there nervously scouring the area. The minute she sees me, she motions for me to come over. Reaching Grace before I could, Thor jumps up on the bench beside her, laying his head in her lap; I had forgotten that he was with me.

“Why are you here?” Grace asks in a shaky voice.

The police officer looks at me and asks, “Were you here when this happened?”

I go through every detail from the moment I pulled in and spotted the suspicious vehicle until the moment I called 911. Grace just sits with her mouth open, looking at me in disbelief.

“Did you get a look at the person driving?” the officer asks.

“No, but a few details did pop out at me regarding the car,” I say matter of fact.

“Go on,” the officer urges.

“It was a silver Mercedes. From the angle I was sitting, I could make see most of the license plate. KWL 4 was all I could make out. There was a scuff of red paint on the rear bumper and the open sunroof didn’t have the same shade of tint as on the rest of the windows.”

“Ms. Weatherly, is there anyone that would want to harm you or Mrs. Simmons?”

“Grace just took out a restraining order against a previous boyfriend that attacked her in her home,” I interject.

Grace jerks her gaze towards mine. “How did you know about that?”

“Ben.”

“That asshole,” Grace mutters.

“Ms. Weatherly, do you have the name of the officer that is actively working your other case?”

Reaching into her bag, she pulls out a card that identifies the case number and presiding officer. Grace explains the series of events. The officer listens while taking copious notes.

“Was the person driving the vehicle the same person involved in this case?”

Searching her memory, Grace replies, “I didn’t see the person. To be honest, I wasn’t paying attention. Rory and I were discussing where we were going to go for dinner.”

‘What kind of vehicle does Evan Lowry drive?” asks the officer.

“He drives a red Lexus convertible.” Looking at her watch, Grace asks, “May I leave? I really would like to go to the hospital to check on Rory.”

The police officer closes his notebook and says, “Sure, but if you can think of anything, please call me. The card includes this incident’s case number and all of my information.”

Grace reaches in her bag and pulls out her keys. As she gets up, Thor is following her lead. She starts to walk away.

“You’re coming with me,” I instruct her.

“Like hell I am,” she spouts back.

“Grace, please let me help you. You’re in no condition to drive right now. Also, you’re not going anywhere alone with a crazed asshole setting out to squash you like a bug.”

Stiffening her back, she takes a deep breath. “Okay, but what about Thor?”

“I called Ben while you were giving your statement to the officer. He should be here any moment.”

Just as I finish my sentence, Ben pulls up. Getting out of the car, Ben takes the path furthest from the reach of Grace.

“You,” Grace growls.

Ben grabs Thor’s leash and high tails it back into his car, speeding off.

“How can a little girl like you make a big Marine run like that?” I laugh.

Looking at me stoned face she replies, “I don’t know. Maybe you can answer it. How did this little girl make you, a big Marine, run like you did?”

Touché.

Grace

S
taring out the
window of Jackson’s truck, I am taken aback by how I got here. Not here in this truck, but here in this situation. I try to search my memory for clues that hint to Evan being capable of hurting me. Yes, he hurt me emotionally, but when you break up, there is hurt. Maybe not to the same extent to both parties but it’s always sad to see a relationship dissolve. People cheat and their relationship ends, but most don’t threaten you when things just don’t work out.

“What are you thinking?” Jackson asks.

“I’m thinking about how I attracted a complete psychopath.”

Continuing to gaze into the evening I feel Jackson take my hand in to his. Glancing over, he gives me a sympathetic smile while gently squeezing my hand. We ride this way until bright red letters that read “Emergency Room” come into view. I dislodge myself from his grip. Before he can put the truck in park, I jump out and run through the automatic doors. I think I briefly hear him call my name as the doors close behind me.

The first thing I see is a line of cubicles with signs outlining their purpose. I make my way to the one that reads information. “My name is Grace Weatherly and my friend Rory Simmons was brought in by ambulance. I need to know how she’s doing,” I say desperately.

Without looking up from her computer the lady whines, “I’m sorry miss but unless you are family I can’t give you any information.”

Slamming my hands down on her desk, I say rather forcefully, “You obviously don’t understand. She saved my life and I want someone to tell me how she is.”

Well, that got her attention, and the attention of the two security guards walking my way. Next thing I know, a hand grabs me by my shoulders steering me away from the evil monster that is in the process of getting me thrown out.

I look behind me and Jackson has a fake smile plastered on his face. Talking through clenched teeth, he adds, “Now darling, these nice people are just trying to do their jobs. You’ve been through a lot today and I think you need to sit down while I take care of this.”

“What the f-”

“Now, now sweetums, let me handle this,” he interjects as he forcefully places me in my seat. “You’re going to get yourself thrown out and you will not be able to see her. Let me handle this,” Jackson says in a low enough voice that only I can hear.

I cross my arms over my chest as I fume, watching Jackson sauntering back to the Wicked Witch of Information. I think he actually adjusted himself as he walked up to her. That stinkin’ witch just actually licked her lips while checking out his little performance.

I jump up ready to pounce when I hear, “Are you Grace Weatherly?” I look over and Dr. McNaughty catches my eye.

“Yes I am,” I say breathlessly.

“And I’m Jackson Kavanaugh. I’m
with
Ms. Weatherly,” he says has he possessively puts his arm on my lower back.

Dr. McNaughty looks from me to Jackson and gives a slight shrug. “Follow me.”