“Naw. I would have remembered if I had seen
a teenager with eyes as bright and different as hers. They were aqua-blue and big. She wore a hooded sweatshirt, so I don’t know what color her hair was, and by her response to seeing police show up, I’d say she had a fear of cops.” He stood up from the bed and walked toward the window. He ran his hands through his hair. The concern for the teenager was consuming him.
“Pete, what’s the matter?” Abigail asked as she joined him by the window, placing her arms around his waist. He pulled her into his arms then looked at his brothers over her shoulder.
“There was something about her, Abby. I think she’ll come back again, at least I hope she does. I want to help her.”
Abigail smiled.
“Then help her. Maybe she’s from Turbank or somewhere like that. You find out, Pete. You’re great at helping those in need.”
He smiled, feeling confident that he could help the teenager. He just worried that before he got to see her again something bad might happen.
Chapter 2
In the kitchen, Bryant poured another few shots of whiskey into his black coffee. The house was dark with the shades drawn tight. The kitchen was a mess. The entire house was. He really didn’t give a shit. He would have been fine living in his truck out in the middle of nowhere. His life sucked. He couldn’t sleep a fucking wink without waking up in a cold sweat or practically crying like a fucking baby.
His brothers, his fathers, and mom would fucking lose it. They would think he was weak.
He took a deep breath and exhaled as the pain hit his chest. Lifting the cup toward his mouth, he could smell the heavy sting of alcohol. But he knew it wouldn’t be enough to stop the constant feeling of pain.
His leg ached, his heart ached, and his entire body and soul felt numb. If he could drive the fucking truck without his leg cramping up, he would drive it off a fucking cliff.
He drank down the half a cup of coping medicine and closed his eyes as the burning traveled down his throat.
Why didn’t You take me? Why am I still alive?
* * * *
Dr. Jones knew that the teenager had returned the last few nights. He had left packages of food, clothing, and even a sleeping bag. The teenager was taking her time, and soon two weeks had passed. He confided in his son, Kenny, about the girl, and of course Kenny warned him to be cautious. Kenny wanted to wait outside one night and try to stop her to talk to her. He figured that maybe he could help as well. But that plan backfired as a group of young teen boys decided to do a little shopping at the supermarket after hours. They broke into the store and stole some cheap wine and chocolate chip cookies. He was currently searching for them.
Dr. Jones walked outside of his office around nine in the evening just as he had done the last two weeks and since the first night he saw her.
“If you’re out there, I’d really like to talk with you. I think I can help you if you let me. My wife said to invite you over for supper. Would you like to do that? Would you like to come meet my family?” He looked out into the darkness and hoped that she was there, listening to him.
The silence lasted a few moments.
“Thank you for everything you have left for me.”
The quiet feminine voice came from the side of the building.
“You’re welcome, dear. Maybe you can come out from the darkness and we can talk a while. I brought some bottles of sweet tea from the Caldoway store. They have lots of homemade things over there including jellies and jams.” He felt like an idiot, rambling on in the darkness.
“Is that deputy hiding out waiting for me?” she asked.
“Kenny? No, oh now, dear, that’s my son. He’s busy now, anyways. Caught some boys breaking into the local store to steal some food. He’ll be busy for a while.”
His heart hammered in his chest as the young teenager came out of the darkness and into the light. Her hood remained covering her head, and he could hardly make out her face, but she was there. This was the opportunity he had waited for.
“Where are you from?” he asked.
“Far away from here, mister.”
“Everyone around here calls me Doc.”
“What kind of a doctor are you?”
“Family practitioner. I deal with everything from the common cold to child birth.”