The Departed (14 page)

* * *

IT was hours later before Taylor saw Dez again. The day had slipped away from him without giving him much time to think about Anna, and what tomorrow was. He’d get up early to visit her grave, to take her the flowers. God knew he spent a lot of time thinking about her anyway, no matter where he was.

He stood in the hallway outside the small hospital lounge, where Mark’s mother was alone, weeping. The family’s day hadn’t gotten any easier. In fact, after Mark had made his confession to Dez, it had gotten worse—so much worse.

The boy had started having seizures. Apparently he’d had a lot of trouble with them when he was younger, although they’d leveled off as he’d gotten older. The stress, Taylor imagined. Especially once it was discovered the boy was showing signs of going into alcohol withdrawal.

Like that family didn’t have enough on their hands, he thought, staring out the window as Mark’s mother fought to control her sobs. Her husband was in the room with their son, and she’d been in there as well, up until twenty minutes earlier.

But now…now she was out here, crying as though her heart was breaking.

Taylor suspected she hadn’t wanted to break down in front of Mark—so hard for parents to always stay strong around their children. He guessed she needed a few minutes to get the tears out without upsetting her son. He couldn’t blame her.

One thing was certain, though. Mark wouldn’t be talking to the cops for a few days yet. While part of Taylor was impatient, there was another part of him that thought this was better—the sooner the boy talked, the sooner the other boys would know. Then they’d have time to shore up their defenses even more.

For now, Mark was as safe as he could be, safe and being kept from all visitors…including cops and friends. Until they had the withdrawal symptoms and the seizures under control, Mark’s visitations would be very, very limited. And very controlled.

When Dez showed up and came to stand beside him at the window, he spared her a quick glance.

“She looks like she’s had her heart ripped out,” Taylor said, his voice flat.

Dez sighed. “It’s only going to get worse. Wait until he confesses that he knew three of his friends had killed Tristan and he hadn’t done anything about it.”

“Fuck.” He shoved a hand through his hair and shook his head. “
Why
? Damn it, why didn’t he say anything?”

“He was scared. Tristan, the kid who brought me here, he was the guy everybody liked; everybody respected him. Or almost everybody. Some of the kids were even scared shitless of him—on their own, they wouldn’t have messed with him. You don’t expect that kind of guy to become a target, but that’s what they did—they targeted him, plotted his death, carried it out, made it look like he’d merrily had a poisoned cocktail. They got away with it, too. Mark was scared it would happen to him. In his shoes, how do we know we wouldn’t have done the same?”

“You wouldn’t.” Taylor snorted and shook his head. Then he sighed. “But in the end, he did the right thing…and I think he knew they would try to do something. They still might. Telling you took guts.” He paused, then added, “There’s somebody watching over him. It’s not a cop from the department, though.”

Dez narrowed her eyes. “What do you mean, it’s not a
cop
?”

“Calm down. It’s actually better this way. Right now, everything is still quiet—nobody knows but his family, you…and this friend they got on the door. An ex-cop,” he said, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Retired from Louisville and moved back home a few years ago. And it’s somebody who volunteered—a guy by the name of Luther—he works with him at the hotel. He’s friends with the family and when he heard about what happened, he showed up here, offered to watch over him. Seems like he’d suspected something was bothering the kid.”

“Ex-cop. Cop. Same thing.” She reached up to toy with the chain at her neck, a worried look on her face. “We’re sure we can trust him?”

Taylor gave a short nod. “I’m sure. You’ll probably feel better if you talk to him, get a read on him yourself. But he’s got a look in his eyes. He’s pissed. Good and pissed. Anybody wants to hurt that kid, they’ll have to go through him. He’s already kicking himself for not realizing how bad the kid was messed up inside.”

“Woulda been nice if he’d said something to somebody,” Dez muttered, shaking her head.

“He probably didn’t realize it was this bad,” Taylor said. “And the boy hid everything very well. His dad is a counselor, you know that? A counselor—didn’t realize his son was an alcoholic.”

“He hid it well.” She blew out a breath and glanced back at the mother. “I wonder if I should talk to her.”

Taylor grunted and stepped aside. She lifted a brow at him and he said, “You already know you’re going to talk to her.”

“And you know this…how?”

“Because you came over here.” He glanced toward the woman and then back at Dez. “You can’t stand to see suffering. It’s in your nature to try to ease it if you can. If you didn’t think you could, you wouldn’t have come over here.”

“And it’s not possible that I came over here to talk to you?”

His only response to that was a smirk.

Sighing, she looked back at the woman. Then she lifted a hand to the glass window, pressed her palm flat to it. “Her pain is enough to steal my breath away. I can’t hear her thoughts well, but every now and then, even through my shields, I hear something—she keeps thinking how close she came to losing him. And then she keeps wondering what she did wrong, how he could have done something so awful.”

“Do you blame her?”

“No.” She looked at him. “I’m angry at that boy—so angry. But I’ve also felt his pain, his fear. And it would have been so easy for him to pretend ignorance, or try to stop me. To just keep hiding under the covers. He’s trying…that’s more than the other bastards will ever do, I guarantee you that.”

She closed her eyes and squared her shoulders. Then, taking a deep breath, she opened the door and slipped inside.

TALKING to Mark’s mom had been hard. By the time she was done, Dez’s heart was battered and bruised. By comparison, going to Ivy’s room felt a little easier. Like trying to juggle three chainsaws instead of four, perhaps.

Her parents were sitting at her bedside, there was hospital security at the door, and Dez was scrutinized within an inch of her life. Jeez, the rent-a-cop took his job seriously. But she was kind of happy to see it. At least she knew anybody else going inside that room would get the same hard once-over.

She hoped.

As the girl on the bed turned toward her, Dez summoned up a smile. It wasn’t easy. Ivy still looked so battered and worn. But when she saw Dez, a tired smile lit her pretty face.

“Hi!”

Dez stopped at the foot of the bed. “Hey. You’re looking better.”

Ivy made a face. “No, I’m not. But I feel better. I get to go home tomorrow.”

“That’s good.” She glanced at the woman on Ivy’s left and gave her a polite smile. “Ma’am.”

Dez looked back at Ivy. “Have you talked to the police?”

Terror turned the girl’s eyes all but black. She cowered into the bed, clutching the blankets to her. “Nuh…no. I…I can’t tell them anything. I don’t remember…”

“Ma’am, we’ve already discussed this. Ivy doesn’t
remember
enough to help. I don’t know who you are, but I won’t have you upsetting her—” This came from the big-ass guy sitting next to her. As he spoke, he came out of the chair, taking one step toward Dez.

Dez lifted a brow at him.
Sweetie, if you think that’s going to do anything to intimidate me, you need to think it through a bit more
. “Upsetting her?” Dez said quietly.

“Yes, upsetting her. She didn’t sleep—she
can’t
sleep.” The girl’s mom glared at Dez, her eyes snapping.

“I can understand that.” Dez looked away from the man, away from the woman, and focused on Ivy. “And if you can’t remember, then there’s not much you can do to help, I suppose.”

Taking a chance, she lowered her shields. Things were so fucking weird here, anyway, she didn’t know what she’d get from this girl. Not much…but enough. Ivy wasn’t being completely honest. She didn’t remember much of what happened
here
, but she knew something about who’d hurt her. Who had taken her. “Tell me something, Ivy. How well are you going to sleep knowing the boy who did this to you is still out there?”

Ivy whimpered, bringing her hands up to cover her face.

“Damn it, that’s it, you get out of here.” The man reached to grab Dez, and she stepped back.

“You don’t want to do that,” she warned.

“Joey…”

The soft, broken sob came from Ivy.

“Sweetie, it’s okay, I’ll get her out.”

“No. You…” Ivy lifted her face to stare at Dez. “She’s right. Oh, God, you’re right…”

She started to sob. As her mother leaned over and wrapped her arms around her, she glared at Dez. “How can you upset her like this? You have no idea what happened to her!”

Ivy shoved her away. “Shut up, Mom! Yes, she does. Don’t you know who she is? Oh, God. Lady, I’m so sorry.”

“Ivy…” Dez sighed and rubbed her forehead. “Sweetheart, it’s okay.”

“No. No, it’s not.” She swallowed and eased away from her mom, batting away the hands that tried to hold her. She made her way to the edge of the bed and just sat there, her feet barely touching the floor. She looked so young, so scared.

Her eyes met Dez’s, held them. “Mom. Joey…this is the woman who found me.” She looked away from Dez to the man—Joey—and then back over her shoulder to her mom. “She saved my life. And I’m sorry if it upsets you, but you know what? She’s right. I’m not going to sleep knowing that freak is out there.”

“Oh, God.” The woman stood up, lifting a hand to her mouth. “You…”

Dez hunched her shoulders up, tuning the mom out. She didn’t want this, didn’t need it. She moved forward and when Ivy lifted a hand, she caught it in hers. “Do you know who he is?”

“No.” Ivy shook her head and tears glimmered in her eyes, so dark and soft.

Bambi eyes, Dez thought. Absently, she reached up and brushed a strand of hair back from the girl’s face. “Okay. Is it that you can’t remember all of it?”

“I…I don’t know.” Ivy looked away and sighed. The tears slid free and she reached up, wiped them away. “I don’t think I’m ready to talk about it yet, though. Can I…can I take some time? I’m supposed to come back down here. Talk to the cops in a few days. Can I talk then?”

“Nobody can make you talk at all,” Dez said softly. “But if you really want peace, if you want to fight and take back what he took…your best bet will be to talk. But nobody can make you do it.”

Ivy looked down, plucking at her gown. “I don’t want to sleep because I hear his voice. I don’t think it will stop, maybe not ever. But if I don’t try…” She shook her head. “I think I want to talk.” Then she nodded, slowly. “Yeah. I think I need to.”

“Brave girl,” Dez murmured. She pressed a gentle kiss to Ivy’s forehead. “Brave girl.”

“I’m not brave.” Her breathing hitched in her chest. “I’m so scared. I think I’ll always be scared.”

“Baby, it’s completely possible to be scared and brave at the same time. Being brave sometimes means doing what you’re scared of.” She chucked the girl under the chin. Then she reached into her pocket. With a mental wince, she realized she was running damn low on her cards. “Here. You ever want to talk, call me. Doesn’t matter what it’s about. But that’s a personal number. Confidential and all. Just for you, not your folks, not the cops. Just you.”

After one more smile for the girl, she turned and walked away. Out in the hallway, she heard the guy—a stepfather?—calling out to her. She ignored him. She had no desire to talk to him or to the girl’s mom. Not anybody.

She just wanted her bed. Damn it, she was tired.

“YOU going to tell me what’s going on?”

Taylor looked away from his study of the parking lot and found Blake studying him.

“Right now?” Taylor checked his watch and then looked back up at the cop. “Not much of anything, thank God.”

Blake made a disgusted sound and flopped down into the chair across from Taylor, staring at him.

Taylor ignored him. He was waiting for Dez to leave. She’d disappeared some twenty minutes ago, to the fourth floor, where they’d moved Ivy. Taylor hadn’t been at all surprised, and if he had her pegged right, she’d be down here in no time flat. She’d want to check on the girl, comfort her a bit, and then she’d beat a fast retreat.

The parents were already trying to get information on her, but Taylor had put out word to keep Dez’s personal information just that—personal. It wouldn’t have worked well elsewhere, but it was working here. So far.

Fortunately, Ivy’s folks weren’t from around here; otherwise they’d know all they had to do was loiter around town and make conversation with the locals. People there had already ferreted out her name. Not much else—yet. But soon they’d have more. He couldn’t stop it.

“What’s up with the Danvers kid?” Blake asked.

“Bike wreck.” Taylor slanted a look at him. “Head injury and he’s got a history of seizures. Ugly mix. What, you can’t get that info yourself? And what’s it to you, anyway?”

“Don’t give me that shit.” Blake slashed a hand through the air. “If it was just a damn wreck, that hot girlfriend of yours wouldn’t be here.”

The hair on the back of Taylor’s neck rose.

Blake narrowed his eyes and leaned back, crossing his hands over his belly as he studied Taylor. “I did some nosing around last night—online, kept it nice and unofficial, although I wouldn’t be surprised if the detectives have already run her background. The past year, her name’s popped up in some very interesting ways.”

“You can’t believe everything you read online,” Taylor drawled, shrugging. He knew, for a fact, that the stories online about Dez barely even touched the surface. Most of the things over the past year were minor. Of course, the
National Enquirer
could have a fucking field day with even the most minor stories, but they didn’t even touch on what Dez was capable of, the miracles she’d accomplished.

Blake just grunted. “What’s really weird is the fact that before this past year you can’t find hardly even a mention of her anywhere. I know where she lives. Virginia.” He paused and added, “Same as you.”

“Several million people live in Virginia,” Taylor pointed out.

“True.” Blake leaned forward, elbows braced on his knees. “But several million people don’t have a rep for being psychic, do they?”

Shit. Taylor met Blake’s gaze. “You realize if you go around handing out stories like that, you’ll get laughed off the police department, right? And, Blake? If you can’t hold a job with the French Lick Police Department, you aren’t going to find another police department willing to hire you, I don’t think.”

“Is that a threat?” Blake stared at him, his gaze flat. And rather unimpressed, Taylor thought.

“Just a comment—pointing out the obvious.” He sighed and rubbed his hands over his face.

Blake snorted. “Do I look stupid to you? I don’t plan on spouting any sort of shit. Like you…I’m just pointing out what’s obvious to me. Smoke follows fire and all that. Your girl? She’s smoke. Which means, she’s following fire.”

“Fire?” Taylor stared at Blake.

“Yeah. Meaning Mark.” He stood up and glanced down the hall. “He used to be a good kid. Maybe he still is, I don’t know. But if she’s hanging out here around him, well, my gut tells me there’s trouble.”

Taylor followed Blake’s gaze and saw Dez as she cut down the hall—not toward him, but a different way.

“So. Is there trouble?”

Taylor sighed. “With Dez, there’s almost always trouble. Doesn’t mean it’s the sort of trouble
you
are looking for.”

* * *

IT was almost nightfall when Dez slipped out of the hospital. And she was walking to her car when she realized one small but crucial detail.

Stopping dead in the middle of the parking lot, she planted her hands on her hips and swore a blue streak. That didn’t make her feel any better so she stormed over to her car and kicked the rear tire.

It was hard enough that she felt it even through the heavy black boots she wore, but it still didn’t take the edge off her irritation. Sighing, she turned around and leaned against the car, staring off into the distance, watching as the sun continued to sink slowly below the tree line.

In another thirty minutes or so, it would be dark. In a few more hours, she’d be too tired to see straight.

And she didn’t have a place to stay. Did she just go back to that dump on the side of the road where she’d stayed the other night?

Shit
. Probably. Her back screamed even at the thought. But unless she wanted to sleep in her car…

Her skin prickled and although he didn’t make a sound, she wasn’t surprised when Taylor came to stand beside her. Clad in his sport coat and jeans, his face emotionless, his steel blue eyes unreadable, he leaned against the truck parked next to hers and studied her face.

“Where are you staying tonight?” he asked bluntly.

She resisted the urge to stick her tongue out at him.

“Why?” She sure as hell wasn’t about to tell
him
that she didn’t have a place to stay.

Taylor sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “Damn it, Dez, can you ever just answer a damn question? You didn’t have a lot of time to look around today. Did you book a hotel or what?”

Caught off guard by the sharp tone in his voice and the glint of temper she saw in his eyes, she actually let herself answer. “No.”

A second later he tossed something at her. She barely caught it before it smacked her in the face. Scowling at the key she held, she shot him a dark look. “You know, my mother always taught me that throwing around objects with jagged edges could be dangerous.”

“No, she didn’t,” Taylor replied. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a piece of paper. “That selfish bitch took off before she could teach you anything.”

She sighed. “True.”

He held out the piece of paper and, despite her aggravation, she took it. Opening it, she found a computer-generated map. According to the directions, the destination was about five minutes away.

“It’s to a rental,” he told her. “It’s got the bare minimum in furnishings, but it will work for the short term.”

Rubbing her thumb over the key’s grooved edge, she frowned. “How much?” Like she was really going to be picky. But still. It was the principle, right? And she
did
need to be able to afford it.

“It’s taken care of—all you need to do is get your ass over there and sleep, preferably before you collapse.” Shoving off the truck, Taylor started to stalk away.

Oh, no.

She caught his arm. “Wait a second, slick. You’re not my boss, remember?”

“According to that contract, I am. Short term. But the contract has nothing to do with the house—you need a place to stay while you’re here. I’m familiar with the area and found you a place. It was more expedient.” He glanced down at the key she held and then back up at her. “Would you rather sleep at some hole-in-the-wall hotel and spend the next three or four days trying to find appropriate accommodations and spend money you needn’t spend? You can always go back to the dive where you slept the other night. Maybe you’ll get lucky again and not get a room with bedbugs.”

Gripping the key so tightly the edges bit into her hand, Dez glared at him. “Why do you have to be such a bastard?” she demanded.

“It comes naturally.” He pulled his arm free and moved as if to walk away but, instead, he paused and reached up, touched her cheek.

Unless she was seriously mistaken, his face softened, and the steel of his eyes warmed. “Dez…go to the house. There’s some food inside. Eat. Get some rest. You need it.”

His gaze dropped to her mouth and her heart skittered in her chest, dancing around crazily. But he didn’t kiss her. His hand fell away and he walked off, his sneakered feet silent on the paved parking lot.

Gripping the key and the map, she closed her eyes and counted to ten.

How come this bastard was still managing to drive her crazy? A year out of her life and he was
still
driving her crazy?

Except he wasn’t exactly out of her life, now, was he?

And she hadn’t been able to keep herself from dreaming about him, either. Thinking about him. Wanting him. Shit. No matter how hard she tried, he still dominated such a huge part of her life, even if it was just when she was trying
not
to let it be that way.

Sighing, she looked down at the key and the map, and then back up just in time to see him slip back into the hospital. Just in time to see him look back at her. Their gazes connected and time fell away. Her heart seemed to hitch inside her chest and she could hear the echo of it pounding in her ears, hear the roar of blood.

Swallowing, she found herself wanting to drop the key, the map…everything. And just go to him.

But she’d tried that before. And even though it had been amazing, he’d pushed her away, pushed her so far, in the end, he’d pushed her completely out. There was still a hole inside her over that.

Sighing, she tore her eyes from him and turned to her car.

Why in the hell had she gone and fallen for somebody like him anyway?