Page 14 of Fighting the Odds

I think I’m going to be sick!

“Yes sir, our office closes at five and it’s nearly four thirty now.” She pauses, smiling sweetly at me. “Perfect, I'll be looking for you.” She hangs up the phone, placing her hands on her desk, tapping her fingernails.

The silence, except for the clinking of her nails, is nerve-wracking. Someone’s coming who claims to be my family. Well, according to the DNA, we are family. And I don’t have a fucking clue who it is.

Mrs. Jenkins clears her throat, startling me and I jump, my eyes jerking up to her. I’m a nervous wreck. The anxiety over what’s to come building with each passing second.

“Sierra, I really need you to tell me who did this to you. It’s important. We’ve not had success finding your aunt. It’s as if she’s disappeared. It would also help to speed along the investigation on you regarding Sam.”

“I’ve. Never. Hurt. Sam!” I enunciate each word to her, hoping that it sinks into her head.

“I really wish you would see the severity of this, Sierra.”

The fucking gall of this bitch. I don’t see the severity of the situation? I’ve been beaten up, removed from my home, separated from my sister and accused of abusing her. I think I understand it completely.

“Very well. You’re only making this more difficult. I need to get some paperwork together. Stay here and I’ll be right back.”

She presses her hands down on her desk as she stands, her chair rolling back. It doesn’t take her long to make it to the door and walk out. Once again, I’m left alone, allowing me more time to stew in my thoughts and grow more miserable as I wait for the mysterious family member to arrive.

He can’t be worse than Aunt Sarah. Or can he?

Chapter 7

Sierra

Istand up so I can move around the room, my legs having lost their feeling from sitting so long. There’s not much to look at in this office. There’s a framed diploma on the wall, but no other pictures. As I step behind her desk, I can see the picture on it of her and a blonde girl sitting on her lap, who looks like she’s about five. Standing behind them is who I’m assuming is her husband. He’s okay looking. A small part of me hopes their home is full of love and no secrets.

My fingers trail along the edge of the wooden desk. It’s something I used to love to do when I went to Wes’ house. His dad had the most beautiful desk, and we used to play in his office all the time when we were kids. It all changed that night. Now I hate desks. Once again, here’s one ripping my heart to shreds.

The door opens and Mrs. Jenkins steps inside, followed by…

No!

What the hell is going on?

Why is he here?

“Sierra, this is Mr. Williams, your uncle.” She steps further into the room, allowing him to move closer to me. I feel my legs turn to jello as they tremble underneath me. My balance falters and I have to grip onto the desk to steady myself.

“Are you okay, Sierra? Here, take a seat.” He steps up, taking my elbow in his hand and guiding me to a chair.

“How?” I have so many questions, but it’s the only word I can formulate right now.

“My brother, Mark, was your father. You were happy with your mother, and I didn’t want to intrude. If you like, when we’re settled, I can tell you more about him.” I nod. It’s all I can do. So much has happened today and I just can’t process it all. It’s too much. My heart is pounding so fast I feel like I can’t even breathe.

“Okay, so Mr. Williams can take you by your apartment and pick up your clothes before he takes you back to his place—”

“Actually, Mrs. Jenkins, I plan to stay at her home. Her aunt is not there and I’m sure she’s not coming back. Sierra has had so much upheaval in her life in the last twenty-four hours, I feel as if she would be more comfortable in her own home.” He stares intently at her, as if he’s daring her to deny it.

“That is not how things are done, Mr. Williams,” she responds, not backing down.

“I’ve already been in contact with the head of the department and it’s been cleared. Feel free to contact him if you don’t believe me. In fact, I have Henry’s number right here. We just talked earlier.” He pulls his phone out of his pocket and hands it to Mrs. Jenkins, someone’s contact pulled up for her to see.

“It’s not our protocol, and it’s after hours, so if you are not wanting—”

He takes the phone back, hitting the button himself, placing the call on speakerphone for us all to hear.

“Williams, my man, what can I do for you? I thought you’d be busy getting your niece settled at home, explaining who you are.” The deep, husky voice filters through the line.

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