With a laugh, I replied, “I see.”
“Sometimes I wished he was Mommy’s boyfriend because he always treated me nicer than hers did.”
A low growl came from the back of my throat. If I could track down each and every one of Lacey’s former boyfriends, I would put them in the ground for hurting Willow.
“David,” Mama Liz cautioned.
To change the subject, I said, “Then I think we should honor Mr. Walter by naming a fine specimen of dog after him.”
I’d barely put the truck in park when Willow bolted out and started running up Case’s driveway. I didn’t even try to yell at her to come back. She’d shied away from most of the other men in the club.
Until today.
With each and every day, Willow was embracing her new life. And that fact made me so fucking happy.
CHAPTER FOUR: ALEXANDRA
As a steady rain fell outside my classroom window, I rose out of my desk. “Okay, guys, it’s time to take your seats,” I instructed, over the buzzing hum in the room.
My heels clicked across the tile as I went to close the door of my classroom. That was the signal that some of my stragglers needed to make sure they got to their desks. I smiled as they bounced in their chairs, excited to see what the day held in store for them.
I once again turned my attention to my group of eager students. “All right. Let’s see who is here today, and then we’ll go to the mat for calendar time.”
As I started taking attendance, my eyes fell on an empty seat. An ache went through my chest at the sight of. It was the fourth day Willow Malloy had been absent. Protocol dictated we call home after the third straight absence, but when I had tried the day before, I had received a message that the number was out of service.
Although I loved each of my little students equally, there was something so special about Willow. What had started as a tiny flicker at the Meet and Greet had grown after getting to know her. She was off-the-charts smart, and sometimes when I was talking to her, her responses made me think she was a second or third grader.
She stuck close to my side whenever she was at school. As hard as I tried, I couldn’t seem to get her to make friends with any of the other children. Most of the little girls were put off by the fact she rarely talked. So instead of jabbering along with them, Willow liked to stay with me during recess, and sometimes she would refuse to go to the gym or to art.
I never forced her.
Instead, I just went about doing my usual routine during my off-time while Willow tagged along. Some teachers might have treated her differently and refused to give her any special attention. But my own trauma made me empathize with Willow and her situation.
I was brought out of my thoughts by one of my students wiggling in his seat. “Miss Evans, can we go to the mat now?”
Laughing at his excitement, I nodded. “All right, let’s go work on the calendar.”
That afternoon, after Atticus and I escorted all the second load kids out to the bus lanes, I came back inside and went straight to my computer. Once I logged into the attendance program, I went to Willow’s name. Grabbing an apple-shaped notepad, I jotted down her address.
I didn’t even bother with trying Elizabeth’s contact information. I wanted to go straight to the source. If I couldn’t reach her father by phone, then perhaps I was just going to have to track him down at his house.
I grabbed my messenger bag and purse, and Atticus and I headed to my car. After dropping him off at the house, I typed the address into my GPS on my phone. It was another scorching, late September day in the South. The backs of my legs stung when I slid across the leather seat of my Accord.
After following the directions of the monotone GPS’s voice, I turned a few blocks and found myself in one of the seedier areas of town. Even though I hadn’t grown up here, Uncle Paul had made sure to always steer me clear of the area. He’d informed me that when the cotton mills had gone out of business in the late ‘80s, the area had rapidly declined. Crime rates rose with the unemployment, and it was now inhabited by transient workersand the local motorcycle gang that I had seen from time to time on the road.
When I pulled up to a gun and pawn shop, I glanced down at my phone to double check that this was actually Willow’s address. Then I grabbed the Post-It note out of my purse to make sure I hadn’t entered it into my phone wrong. I couldn’t help feeling surprised that I was in the right place. Peering through the windshield, I could see that a shop had been made out of part of the old cotton mill. Next to it was the old mill’s office, which appeared to have been converted into some sort of roadhouse or bar.
Unease filled me the moment I shut the car door. Two men in biker boots and leather leaned against the wall of the pawn shop. With a forced determination, I pushed myself forward on shaky legs. As I approached the men, I could feel their heated gaze burning through me, singeing my cotton sundress as they stripped me down with their eyes. A shudder of repulsion ran through me, making me feel dirty and used.
When I met their hooded gazes, I plastered a smile on my lips. “Hello,” I said softly. As I reached for the door of the pawnshop, one of the men stepped in front of me. I couldn’t help jumping back, my hand flying to my mouth to stifle a scream. He cocked his brows at me as he held open the door like a proper gentleman.
Embarrassment flooded my cheeks at my over-the-top reaction. “Thank you. You’re very kind,” I said, as I hesitantly squeezed past his body into the shop. My heels clacked along the floor as I nervously fidgeted with the strap on my messenger bag.
As I glanced left and right, I didn’t see anyone behind the counter. “Hello?” I called.
A black curtain was shoved aside, and a tall, hulking man stepped out. Regardless of his enormous size, the kindexpression on his very handsome face immediately put me at ease. “May I help you?”
Extending my hand, I said, “I’m Alexandra Evans. I’m looking for David Malloy.”
