Page 4 of Delivering David

“Crime scene,” Kristopher repeated. How terribly cold and clinical that sounded. People’s homes weren’t supposed to be crime scenes, but all too often they were.

Hank locked his famous, steady gaze onto Kristopher’s face. “Hard question for you now, Brower. Grant Miller was first on the scene the night Sydney was killed in that ambush. Do you think you can handle working more closely with him and keep your emotions in check?”

“I owe Syd my life several times over.” Kristopher said woodenly. “I was best man at his wedding and pall bearer at his funeral, so I need to do this. Need to help find David and get the bastards who killed his mother.”

And because I couldn’t face Mercy and David after Syd’s death, I ran back to the safety of the Army until you arranged for my discharge so I could join Brotherhood Protectors after my work in Romania was done.“Are our old friends The Cadre involved in this?”

The Cadre, a crime group out of Chicago, had infiltrated Knoxville’s criminal underworld early this year. While their operations included drug and weapons smuggling and distribution, their specialty was trafficking children, youth–especially runaways–and prostitutes all over the Eastern seaboard. Their ability to stay hidden had earned them the name ‘Los Silenciosos’ – Silent Ones – and it was said, “You’ll never see them coming until you do.” Kristopher’s first BP assignment earlier this month had involved helping to take down a Cadre operation involving the abduction of several young girls. BP hadn’t stopped them, but they’d at least slowed them down for a while.

And The Cadre did not hesitate to use violence, torture and murder to get what they wanted.

Hank shrugged. “We don’t have any evidence of that yet, but it wouldn’t surprise me.”

“Will Grant Miller be our point person with KPD again?”

“He will.” Hank gave Kristopher another hard stare. “Did you tell anyone from BP that you and Miller once worked together?”

“Neither of us saw the need to share that particular piece of information.” Kristopher had not expected to work with Miller and neither man had spoken of their past association when they met again last month. “And I don’t see the need for anyone to know that now.”

Because Miller knows every last detail about what went down the night Syd died. There’s nothing to talk about. It won’t bring Syd back.

“You didn’t work that closely with Miller on the last case,” Hank reminded him. “But this is your case and you’ll be in regular contact.”

“I can handle it,” Kristopher said firmly, pushing the guilt back into its well-hidden place. “The mission is to find David Phillips and the people who killed his mother.”

“Sooner or later, Brower, you’re going to have stop blaming yourself for what happened to Sydney Phillips,” Hank said abruptly. “Your therapist at Brighter Days said you still had some residual issues over his death. I brought you into the Brotherhood because we need your knowledge and expertise on child trafficking to try to slow down what’s happening in East Tennessee, and I need you at 100 per cent.”

“You have it, sir,” Kristopher promised. He owed it to Syd, Mercy and David. They were family. Or had been. Anything less than 100 percent was unacceptable.

“Signing off.” Hank’s image vanished from the screen and Kristopher headed for the safehouse’s well-stocked home gym. A hard-work out was always good for clearing his mind, helping him to center on the task at hand, and keep his emotions under control. As his cop grandfather had taught him, “Cool heads always prevail.”

But Mercy Phillips’ murder and her son’s disappearance had torn open Kristopher’s carefully buried sense of failure and everything that went along with it. Frustration. Rage. Guilt.

And worst of all, a horrible sense of irreparable loss. There wasn’t a workout in the world that could take care of that. He’d failed Sydney Phillips five years ago and then his family by running away.

But by God, he wasn’t going to fail them again. He’d find the bastards responsible for Mercy’s death and David’s vanishing and bring them to justice.

He just hoped he could keep Suzanne Bennett safe while he was doing it.

CHAPTER 4

A little later that morning.

“Mom?”

Shivering, David Phillips sat up and blinked hard. What was he doing on the ground? The trees around him looked like the ones in the grove behind his house but how did he get here? He was stiff and cold but mostly he was hungry. He scratched his neck, and his fingers came back dirty. His heavy jacket was dirty too. At least he’d remembered to grab it from the back of his chair. But why was he here? Where was his mom?

Then he remembered hearing his mother crying, begging someone to stop, please stop and a funny voice telling her to shut up. He remembered calling Suze Bennett too and then crawling out his bedroom window onto the deck outside and running down the stairs and into the woods like Mom had always told him to do if someone broke into the house.

But he couldn’t remember where he and Mom were supposed to meet up when something like this happened. Back at the house? At Suze’s place? No, that was way too far, even if he had his bicycle. And if Mom were still at the house, why hadn’t she come to look for him?

His sudden trembling was not from being cold, even though he was. Something bad had happened to his mom. Something really bad.

Crunching leaves, a sneeze and a loud curse had David pulling on his backpack and scurrying deeper into the grove towards what the kids on the block called “The Big Tree.” It was huge with large fat branches that led higher and higher until you got to the fattest one almost at the top. David was the only one that could climb all the way up there, earning him the nickname “Monkey” from his friends.

He took his gloves from his coat pocket and pulled them on, glad he’d shoved his feet into his best sneakers. Otherwise, he’d never be able to make the climb. He pulled himself up to the first branch, then the next, hoping whoever it was, couldn’t hear the chattering of his teeth ‘cause it sounded like ice cubes falling out of the front of the ‘fridge.

He reached the biggest, fattest branch and pulled himself up. Leaning against the trunk, he sat and drew his legs to his chest, planted his feet firmly on the branch and wrapped his arms around his legs. When he was sure he was steady, he looked at the ground.

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