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After dinner, he talked to Lia about how they would watch a movie and then go to sleep. Her eyes widened. “But I don’t have my blankie,” she whined.
Tank attempted to reassure her, but it was clear that the four-year-old always slept with this particular blanket. Tears swam in her eyes as she begged him. “Please, Mr. Anthony. Can’t Mommy and me just go home?”
“Your mommy isn’t feeling very good, princess. But tell you what: I’ll have my friend come watch a movie with you. And I’ll go get your blanket, okay?”
Lia sniffled and eventually nodded, apparently deeming the plan was acceptable. Tank was going to insist that Kaylie and Lia stay here for at least another day while Kaylie rested up, so it’d be good to have some of their things anyway.
He called Miranda first, and although she was a little confused, she sounded more than happy to come babysit for an hour. Twenty minutes later, he opened the door to her and let her inside.
“Thanks for coming,” he said. “I’m sure you have other stuff to do.”
“You’d be incorrect, Tank. Besides, I’m pretty excited to get a look at the little princess who’s got my big, bad soldier friend wrapped around her finger.”
Tank grunted, realizing that he couldn’t necessarily argue the accusation. He would do just about anything the little girl wanted. As for her mom? Well, the same was probably true–for entirely different reasons.
He led Miranda to the master bedroom, where he’d set Lia up with a mountain of pillows and a Disney movie on the television.
“Lia? This is my friend, Miranda. She’s going to hang out with you while I go get your blankie, okay?”
“Hi,” Lia replied, mostly distracted by the dancing donkeys on the screen. Were they in ballerina outfits?
Tank shook his head at the strange show, then turned back to Miranda. “I should be back in less than an hour. Her mom is in the family room, but she’s pretty out of it.”
Miranda nodded. “Go. We’ll be fine.”
Tank had Kaylie’s exact address from Joey and plugged it into the GPS, although he knew roughly where it was from the night he’d trailed the bus to make sure they got there safely.
In fifteen minutes, his phone chirped that he had arrived. Just down the street, the neon lights of a bar were the only sign of life. The door opened and three men poured out, shoving and yelling.
Tank pulled into the unpaved drive next to the house his phone indicated. The number on the house matched the one he had from Joey, but the letter A was displayed next to the numbers. Tank looked around, trying to figure out where unit 414B could be.
He got out of the car and tucked his hands into his pockets. He walked a bit farther down the gravel drive and spotted the small trailer parked among the trees in the surprisingly large city backyard.
414B.
The yard was dark and shadowy, with none of the front house’s light reaching to the far corners of the space. The sound of the idiots from the bar was growing closer. There was a single strand of Christmas lights hung across the front of the trailer, and a snowman painted on a scrap of plywood leaning next to the door.
Tank exhaled his frustration that Lia and Kaylie were living here, where he couldn’t be sure they were safe. It took him less than thirty seconds to bypass the flimsy lock on the trailer door, and then he was inside.
Despite the visible wear and tear inside the trailer, a determined effort to infuse a sense of warmth and homey comfort was evident. Tattered but clean curtains hung haphazardly over the windows, covering the bent blinds. A threadbare rug, strategically placed in the center of the cramped living space, seemed Kaylie’s feeble attempt at covering the scuffed linoleum floor.
The walls and small fridge were adorned with crayon-drawn artwork. Every inch of this trailer bore witness to the love and effort Kaylie had poured into creating a nurturing environment, despite the limitations. Tank couldn’t help but realize that, despite the relative wealth and physical comfort of his own upbringing, Lia was growing up far richer than he had. And while the dangers of the neighborhood weren’t inconsequential, when compared with the certain evils of the Moreno family, it was nothing Kaylie couldn’t handle.
Respect and admiration for the choices Kaylie had made out of sacrifice for her daughter flooded him as he gingerly walked through the space. He quickly found Lia’s blanket on the bed they obviously shared, then grabbed a few things from the bathroom and a change of clothes for each of them from the drawers below the bed.
With one final glance at the home Kaylie had built for her and Lia, he tugged the door closed behind him. He didn’t want to be away from them a minute longer than necessary.
CHAPTER
TWELVE
Kaylie pushed away the last threads of sleep that clung to her. Fuzzy visions of Anthony lifting a straw to her mouth tugged at her emotions, but she pushed them away. Surely, it was a dream because there was no way that was real.
Except, she wasn’t in her own bed. A cocoon of blankets pooled around her waist as she sat up, one hand on the back of the couch. Her hand flew to her head, which twinged with a dull ache.
Why was she at Anthony’s house?
“Lia?” her voice croaked, barely a whisper and burning like daggers in the back of her throat. Ow.
