“They caught him.” April struggled to herknees.
“Head over to the police department so you can make a statement. Legal is all overthis.”
Maia sighed. “I look like the creature from the Blue Lagoon, Aaron. I want a shower!” Maia yelled towards April’sphone.
“Sorry,kiddo.”
“Don’t call me kiddo,” Maia groundout.
Aaron fell silent, probably wondering where his sweet princess hadgone.
“I’m going to the police station, Aaron, but you owe meone.”
“I hear ya,” hegriped.
Maia blinked once. “All right then.” April took care of saying goodbye, and Maia leaned forward to tell the driver their new destination. Her night of fun and slipping back into her old life became a giant headache with a side of stickyunderwear.
Chapter Twenty-Three
London had just finisheda tasteless dinner at the Sanchez family restaurant. The food wasn’t the issue. The issue was him. He was unable to taste anything—not even Mrs. Sanchez’s baja bowl with extra spice. He rubbed his hand over his stomach, briefly wondering if his stomach would wake him in the middle of the night to tell him the sauce was full offire.
The restaurant had bright yellow walls with sombreros and blankets as decoration. The red booths and black tables provided an attractive contrast and an easy place totalk.
Teo Parata and his family were there, all crowded around a table with Teo’s son in a high chair. The toddler could pound rice. London watched Cedar, Teo’s new wife, lift several of Akoni’s chins to clean out food. She’d laughed and smiled and glowed and made London want a family so bad he got ticked off at his situation all overagain.
He settled behind the wheel, staring at nothing. He didn’t even put the key in the ignition. Little things like starting a car were hard when he felt like his very life was slipping through his fingers. Maia had never questioned them before. She’d been the one solid in his life—the happy side to all the misery at his house. His life was on track now, mostly Dad-free, and he was losingher.
He rested his forehead against the steering wheel. “What more can I do, Lord?” Silence was his answer. That didn’t deter him. The pastor who had counseled him and Mom through the divorce had told him silence was a gift as much as a burning bush or a finger writing on tablets.It is in the silence we can learn to feel God’s peace.London had grabbed on to the peace back in the day. Silence was beautiful. Silence meant no one was hurting, no one was beinghurt.
But he was in an empty car, all alone in the silence, and he was stillhurting.
“Anything, Lord. Can you please send me some kind of asign?”
His phone rang and he jumped, staring at it in the cup holder.Lord?he asked silently. With a roll of his eyes at himself, he answered. “This isLondon.”
“Mr. Wilder, this is Officer Bullon. You need to come to the stationimmediately.”
London shoved the keys in the ignition. “I’m on my way.” He hung up without saying goodbye and threw the car intogear.
London rushed through the streets, narrowly missing the back end of a semi truck as he pulled into thestation.
Bullon met him at the door. “You must have been close. That wasfast.”
London lifted his eyebrows and gave him an if-you-want-to-believe-thatlook.
Bullon chose to ignore him. “Thisway.”
They chugged back into the same annoying interview room. At least there wasn’t a one-way mirror on the wall. A laptop sat open on the tabletop. “One of our receptionists saw this tonight and phoned me.” He hit the space bar and the videoplayed.
There was Maia getting out of a limo. Her dress was amazing, and the slit up her thigh? He grabbed the edge of the table. She shouldn’t be allowed to walk around in public —she was a heart attack waiting to happen for some poor, unsuspectingmale.
The camera jostled and a man ran at Maia with two cups in his hands. London tensed. His eyes were sewn to the screen, unable to look away. The right cup flew through the air, the icy blue liquid hitting Maia square in the face. London’s hand went to his face as if he were trying to block the attack. Her hands flew up, too, and she leaned away, but her eyes were closed. She had no idea where the next attack was comingfrom.
London’s heart squeezed so tightly in his chest he thought it might explode from thepressure.
“You’re not good enough for him!” screamed the madman, before throwing the seconddrink.
London knew that swing, knew the crazyvoice.
