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I take a look back toward the hallway with the restrooms, but the diner is so full I can’t see past all the standing patrons waiting for tables as I head out the front door.
I tap the screen as the warmth of the summer afternoon envelops me.
“What’s up?”
“We have a situation. I just got a report from one of the workers at the fair out there on Baldwin Road. You need to come in, man. I hate to have to tell you this, but the girl you’ve been with the last couple days…her name is Kezia, right?”
“Yeah, what about her?”
“Her father says you kidnapped her.”
“What? Jesus…” I shake my head, holding my temples with my fingers. “That’s bullshit and he knows it. She’ll confirm.”
“I figured as much, but still this is going to have to be handled delicately because that’s not the worst of it.”
My head is already pounding and I can’t imagine what could be worse.
“She’s only sixteen, man. I know you probably asked, and maybe she lied, she looks older or you didn’t ask and just assumed…but the father says she’s underage. Says he has a birth certificate to prove it.”
I feel the forever I wanted with Kezia evaporating into the ether. She said she was nineteen.
Fuck, yeah, she looks a little younger, but what the fuck? Not sixteen.
I know she wouldn’t lie about that. I know it. Something else is going on here, I just haven’t figured out what yet.
“I’ll be on my way in a few minutes.” I look down at the screen and tap on the tracking app that pings Kezia’s anklet charm I gave her, seeing it moving outside the back parking lot of the diner just as Malcolm’s voice comes through the speaker.
“You should probably get a lawyer…”
I’m already barging through the diner, headed to the back hallway and rear exit when my father sees me.
“What’s wrong?” His decades of law enforcement instinct are still sharp.
“It’s Kezia.” I look around the table, her seat still empty.
“She hasn’t come back yet,” my mother says, her eyes searching the crowd.
“Something’s wrong. Go out front, around the sides of the building…I’m going out the back…”
Out of my peripheral vision, I see my friends and family racing for the front door, no questions asked.
My stomach knots, bile stings the back of my tongue as alternatives tumble in my mind. Either I’ve been set up or, fuck, I’m a child predator…if it’s true, my life is over and I’ll never forgive myself.
I barge through the back hallway, the little red dot on the tracker moving just outside the rear of the building, so I don’t bother checking the ladies’ room before I slam through the rear door and scan.
There’s a black, older model van parked on the street and I hear a door slam shut and the engine start. I’m bolting in that direction, my hand on my gun as I move around to the side of the van, just as the side doors are sliding shut.
It’s Kezia’s ‘father’.
“She’s my daughter. I’m taking her back. You will be in prison for a very, very long time, Sheriff.”
I aim at his head, my finger twitching to tug at the trigger, but he’s secondary right now. My head is spinning, but I need Kezia out of that vehicle. No matter what happens, she’s not going back with him. The vehicle is started which means someone else is in the driver’s seat and they could take off at any moment.
“Move to the front of the vehicle and put your hands on the hood,” I order as my mother, father and Margaret come down the sidewalk, then Summer comes running, breathless, from the back parking lot.
“Do as he says.” My father pulls his gun as well, backing me up like he always does.
“You’re only digging your grave deeper.” Her father smiles, raising his hands and placing them on the hood of the running van as I look behind the wheel and see one of the other men from the troupe.
“You.” I point my pistol though the windshield and it holds his hands up. “Turn off the vehicle, put the keys on the dash and exit the van, hands on the hood next to your partner here.” I look at my dad. “Cover him.”
He nods as I shift to the side doors, keeping my pistol aimed as I push the button on the handle and ease the door open.
The back is empty except for Kezia, a red handprint on her cheek but her eyes are defiant and there are no tears.
“You okay, baby?”
“I am now,” she answers, scooting across the bare metal floor of the van interior and stepping out beside me. “I tried to get away, but with two of them I couldn’t.”
“It’s okay. You did your best.”
I pull her behind me, the turmoil raging inside me that her age is in question. But right now, her safety is paramount. I’ll deal with my own problems later.
