*
“Are you certain?”
Tyler spoke through frozen lips, the unspeakable sorrow crushing him from all sides. A cold, sleety rain had begun, pelting the windows with melted ice. The street lights glowed, and the blacktop of the road glistened as the cars swooshed by on the avenue. They sat at a booth in the back of a small, dimly lit coffee shop. The tired waitress had taken their order and now leaned on the counter, checking her cell phone. Every once in a while she’d roll her shoulders, or shift her feet encased in thick, rubber-soled walking shoes.
The sympathetic look Sam gave him set Tyler’s teeth on edge. Only Marcus’s hand, holding his tight to the point of pain, grounded him to reality.
At Sam’s nod, something crumbled inside him, and he broke apart. Marcus took him in his arms, Tyler’s tears wetting his chest.
How could his little sister be dead and he not know it? They used to be so close those days long ago when he’d protect her from the bullies at school or hold her hand when she cried after their mother left them. Now she was gone too; the last vestige of his past wiped clean, as if he’d never existed before this moment.
“How did it happen and when?” Tucked up tight against Marcus’s chest, Tyler took comfort in the rumble of his voice.
Sam consulted his notes, his sympathetic voice giving Tyler little comfort. “She’d left work late; she was a waitress at a bar in a little strip mall nearby and had taken an extra shift. It was raining hard, and maybe she didn’t see the driver or he was texting. All we know is that he hit her head-on as she crossed the street.”
“I was never notified though,” said Tyler, wiping his eyes with the napkin Marcus handed to him. “How do you know it’s her? Maybe it’s a mistake.”
Sam took a sip of his coffee and made a face. “I wouldn’t have called you all the way out here if I didn’t check all the facts. I showed her picture to the people she worked with. Amber didn’t use her real name; she went by the name Tiffany Snow. And the place she worked at”—Sam paused for a moment to rub his eyes—“it wasn’t the type of place that cared much if you gave a fake name or not.”
“Why?” Tyler couldn’t help whisper into Marcus’s chest. “Why would she choose to live like this instead of with us, with her child?”
Marcus’s arms tightened around him. “I don’t know. Sam? Any ideas?” His hands smoothed circles up and down Tyler’s back. Tyler would never have been able to handle this by himself. Sam may be kind, but it was Marcus who gave him the strength he needed not to fall apart. A strength he’d never thought he needed.
Sam’s hesitation spoke volumes, and Tyler swiveled around in Marcus’s arms to face him and pin Sam down to answer the questions gnawing at him.
“She was in trouble, wasn’t she? Tell me, please.” He could care less if he begged; it was his sister.
Sam sighed, his gaze flickering between Marcus and Tyler. “She was a prostitute, Tyler. Whatever money she made working at the bar as a waitress and, um, hooking, she gave to the guy she lived with.”
Fury raged through Tyler. “Where is he?” He half rose from his seat. “I’ll fucking murder him.” He shook off Marcus’s hand. “You’re not going to stop me. Tell me, Sam.”
“Tyler, he’s gone. The people I spoke with who were even willing to talk to me all said he left as soon as she died. Those types always melt away at the first sign of trouble. And he wasn’t only her pimp.”
Sam’s sad hazel eyes sent a chill through Tyler. What more did his poor doomed sister have to bear?
“He was her drug dealer. He got her hooked on meth, and she used her prostitution to supplement her drug habit. I’m so sorry, Tyler.”
Tyler barely heard Sam; the cacophony of rage and sorrow boiled over in his head until he wanted to scream his pain out loud. Instead, he began to shake uncontrollably, and Marcus once again came to his rescue and took him in his arms to offer him solace.
“I was able to get the little belongings she left; the bartender felt sorry for her and kept them. It seemed she did talk about a brother and a child but wouldn’t give any names, so he had no way of finding you.”
Drained and numb, Tyler merely nodded. Dead. Amber was dead, and he had nobody, only Lillie. Oh God.
“What’s going to happen to Lillie now that her mother’s dead?”
Sam reached over to the chair next to him, hefted a small box Tyler hadn’t noticed before, and placed it on the table.
“You might want to take a look at what’s here. Amber might not have been in the best frame of mind, but she kept a kind of journal.” He pulled out a small notebook and handed it to Tyler. “The rest is only a few pieces of costume jewelry you might want to save for Lillie and a couple of romance books.”
Tyler peered into the box, noticing several romance books stacked up the side. “Since she was a teenager she loved reading them; she was always dreaming of her prince coming to take her away. Amber was all about a happy ending.”
In real life, there would be no happily ever after with her Prince Charming.
A small smile teased Sam’s lips. “Zach is like that too; he refuses to see any movie where the people or the dog dies.”
Flipping through the pages of the notebook, his name in Amber’s sloping handwriting caught his eye.
I know I did the right thing by leaving Lillie with Tyler. He’s so good with her, and I know he’ll be the best parent. Better than I could ever be. And she loves him so much. I hope he forgives me for leaving her with him, but that’s where I want her to be.
