After I drop the cake onto the passenger seat, I dodge the push mower lying halfway on the sidewalk while surveying the house. The lawnmower is likely broken, or no one gives a shit that the grass is shaggy. A busted window on the front porch is covered with plastic held on by duct tape. The bottom edge of the tape has peeled up, leaving the plastic blowing in the wind.
The garage isn’t any better. The door is hanging by one hinge, and there’s a faint odor of cat urine wafting through the breeze. If I had to guess, Chad is making meth.
A Rottweiler jumps with his front paws, landing on the front door behind the black bars that are intended to keep people from busting into the house when all someone needs to do is climb in through the window.
The dog snaps its jowls together and barks louder until its eyes bulge out and spit flies from its mouth. I steel my back and hold my hand on the butt of my revolver. The last thing I want to do is put a dog down, but it’s obvious from how he’s reacting that Chad or his father has trained the animal to attack.
Before I can knock on the door, a girl of about sixteen stands next to the snarling dog. “Shut up, Loki.” She smacks the dog on the head, causing the animal to growl.
“Be careful.” My heart launches into my throat.
“He’s not as mean as he looks.” She rests her hand on the dog’s wide neck. The animal glances up at her, huffs with disapproval, and disappears into the darkened part of the house.
Mackenzie’s blonde hair is unwashed and hanging limply past her shoulders. Her clothes are clean but threadbare–an oversized black sweatsuit. To disguise her weight gain from pregnancy? The last time I saw her, she had pigtails, two bucked teeth, and a smattering of freckles across her nose and cheeks.
The bucked teeth are gone, and the freckles have smoothed into unblemished skin, but that doesn’t detract from how pale she is or from the fact that there are bags under her eyes that are traditionally saved for elderly people. “Chad’s not home.”
“That’s good.” I dodge a hole in the porch as one of the planks of wood creaks under my weight. “I wanted to talk to you.”
She crosses her arms over her chest and narrows her eyes. “I have nothing to say.”
I lift a hand in hopes of calming her down, but it’s just as likely to have the opposite effect. “I’m not trying to cause you trouble. I stopped by the neighbor’s house first and told her we received a loud party complaint last night.”
Her jaw is tight as she glares at me. “Chad always has parties.”
“But that’s not why I stopped by. I have reason to suspect that you gave birth to a little girl and had someone drop her off at the police station this morning. The boy in question attemptedto stay out of the camera range, but we were able to make out some features that identified him as someone who’s been hanging out with you.”
Her face is white as she clutches her throat. “It’s legal to drop off a baby in this state, isn’t it?”
“Yes, it is.”
“Then why’re you checking into it?” The coldness in her eyes is harsh for someone her age. “If someone dropped off a baby, that must mean they don’t want it.”
“Because I wanted to make sure it was at your direction. The law makes it legal for the parents to drop off their child with no consequences, but you weren’t present.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Her chin tips out in a defiant stance. “I didn’t have a baby, and it couldn’t have been Lucas dropping it off either. He’s in Kansas City.”
“We….” I trail off, not wanting to share with her that we have a partial license plate on camera that happens to be the last two numbers for the vehicle registered to him. It’s clear she’s not going to be helpful. I clear my throat, “Do you need to see a doctor?”
“No,” she bites out with enough venom to kill a lesser man. “I don’t need to see a doctor. There’s nothing wrong with me. I’d like to ask you to leave my property and not mention this to anyone. Chad would lose his mind if he knew you were here asking these types of questions.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
Emily
Later that Night
I tap my fingertips on the steering wheel along with the tune on the radio. Jake called after he stopped to see Mackenzie, letting me know that our services weren’t needed. Clearly, that meeting didn’t go well. And that was the last time I heard from him.
As I roll to a stop, I place my fingers onto my lips. Jake kissed me today. Heat floods throughout my body, staring at my core and zipping outward in all directions.
Was it real?
I shiver like a little girl getting presents on her birthday with a Barbie cake and ice cream included.
In the past, I’ve kissed some toads. I’ve regretted going all the way with some guys. But nothing was ever like this. All day, my pulse has been higher, erratic with visions of his hard, warm body pressed against me. Him caging me against the wall.
I blink and fan my face. Shit. I’ve been sitting at the stop sign for who knows how long, fantasizing about him. Again. When did the radio station switch to a slow song?
