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The Balsam Falls Police Station is housed in one of the oldest buildings in town, and it’s situated just off Main Street. It could probably use a few updates and it tends to get drafty in the winter because it’s solid concrete, but somehow it feels like a second home to me. Or a third—my house and the inn come first.
There’s something about the way the door to my office creaks every time it gets opened all the way and the dark green paint on my office walls that’s just plain familiar. I take comfort in knowing my desk is arranged just so, and appreciate that, while everything in the outside world changes a hundred times a second, my office does not. I know Ember thinks it lacks any aesthetic and Marshall’s made it clear the gray chairs across from my desk clash horribly with everything else, but it’s kind of like my sofa at home that my sister can’t stand: unique. And to be honest, special to me.
I got the couch in college when my counselor told me to buy something that was an investment to prove I could do this life thing. He cautioned not to spend more than I could afford, but he told me if I invested in myself, others would invest in me too.
Apparently Jim was right, because I was only six years into my career—basically still a rookie—when the chief at that time, Tim Reynolds, took me into his office, told me he was retiring, and told me he wanted me to take his place. He said he’d never had such a dedicated and impressive officer on his team before and that John Bryant had written another letter of recommendation. A short six months later I tacked up a silver nameplate that readsSeth Johnson, Chief of Policeto the door I just walked through, and received the badge that’s still on my chest today.
So, when my sister tells me I should upgrade my couch, I simply blow her off. Not because I don’t know that it’s ugly, but because it signifies the first time I invested in myself and what that one choice has led to. Some days it’s the reminder I need to keep going when I feel like all I’ve seen is the worst in humanity. Maybe it’s ridiculous to be so attached to something materialistic, but if Ineededto, I would give it up in a heartbeat. I could go without it. But considering that’s not necessary, I hold onto it.
I spend a little time looking through the reports Jason gave me and field a few questions from one of my most recent hires, and then I power up my computer to begin my search. I don’t know the last time Jenna tried to look up her sister, but unless it was shortly after she saw her last—ten years ago—I have a gut feeling Jade never turned herself into the authorities like she said she needed to. Arrest records are available to the public with a simple Google search, and Kansas City isn’t too big that there would be multiple Jade O’Malley’s playing on the wrong side of the law. I’m not saying it would be impossible, but it’s unlikely.
My gut feeling is wrong because my search does bring up an arrest record for Jade. But it doesn’t give me much to go on, other than what she was charged with, the sentencing details, and when her release was supposed to be. Otherwise, there’s nothing to go on—no addresses, no phone numbers, no places of employment, and no social media accounts. It’s possible Jade didn't stick around in Kansas City—probable, even—but I wouldn’t know what other city or state to start with given my lack of knowledge regarding most of Jade’s personal history.
I lean back in my office chair and blow out a sigh, squinting at my computer screen though I’m not actually seeing it. There has got to be a way to locate the woman. If only I knew the gender of the baby she was carrying. Jenna said she was only a few weeks out from her due date the last time they saw each other, so I’m guessing the baby was born somewhere around the end of August or beginning of September, since it was when Jen was about to leave for college. That still doesn’t give me much to go on, considering I have no idea where she delivered the child. And even if I did, they wouldn’t be able to give me any information because I don’t have a warrant for it.
Frustrated by the lack of results, I straighten and turn off my monitor. There’s nothing more for me to do here now, so I might as well take a drive around town. See if I notice anything out of the ordinary or check out a couple of the houses on our “watch” list. Like Jason said, it’s the weekend before the Fourth, so I have no doubt people are starting to gear up. Of all the holidays, the Fourth of July is our most active one. Most of the department is either on duty or on call, and if they can’t work, I call in backup from surrounding towns or the state patrol. There’s been once or twice that I’ve called Braeden when he, Mark, and Sam were on the state patrol simply because I needed a guy who didn’t need to be babysat.
Speaking of Braeden, I made a note on my calendar to call him, and it pops up just as I’m getting everything powered up in my cruiser. Even though Believe is only ninety miles northeast of here, I can’t call him for backup anymore since he and Mark are the only law enforcement up there, but I do like checking in occasionally. And who knows? Maybe he’ll have some insight into the whole Jade situation. If there’s anyone I trust to keep everything confidential, it’s Braeden. He lost both of his parents in the line of duty at the same age I lost my mother and, really, my father. My life imploded in May and June and Braeden’s only a few months later in August. Ironically, we both went to live with an aunt and uncle. Difference is that mine were uppity and had no children, and Braeden’s were family-oriented and he had four cousins to be considered siblings. We’re not close like I am with Wynn or Marshall, but he’s still one of my most trusted friends and officers. His experience as a state trooper is an added bonus.
“Hey,” Braeden answers on the third ring. I can hear a radio in the background, so he’s probably on duty. “What’s up? I’ve been meaning to send you a text for a couple weeks now, but with Sam’s pregnancy everything has been sort of all over the place.”
I can’t help but smile as I prop my elbow on the door’s armrest, eyeing the early morning foot traffic, which is minimal. Most stores on Main don’t open until eight. “How’s she doing? Or I guess I should ask howyou’redoing with it, huh?”
Braeden laughs. “I think it’s safe to say I’m a little overprotective, as my wife puts it. She’s doing well, though. The first trimester was rough, but it’s gotten a lot better now that we’re only about three months out from the due date. I admit, I’m a little terrified to know I’m going to have a daughter. Sam teases me for being comfortable wearing a gun and doing the job I do and then telling her I’m scared of an innocent baby, but I can’t help it. You should understand that better than anyone.”
“Yeah, I can see where you’re coming from.” Without my permission, my mind flashes back to Friday and being in the kitchen with Ella. She was so happy, so full of life, as she danced around the island using a wooden spoon she got out for a microphone and smiling at me with all the trust in the world. On second thought, maybe I do know, on a slightly different level, what Braeden’s talking about. “I bet your families are thrilled to have a baby girl coming.”
“Thrilled is an understatement.” Braeden’s tone is dry. “Mark says Lainee asks him or Eva no less than five times a day when her baby cousin will be here, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen the women in our families as excited as they’ve been since we announced the pregnancy in April.” He pauses and he must’ve pulled away from his phone to speak into the radio, because I hear muffled voices, and then he’s back. “Sorry. We’ve been monitoring a drug operation for a couple weeks now. Only a matter of time until the head honcho messes up, if you know what I’m saying.”
“Actually, that’s part of the reason I was calling. Not because of your operation, but…” I give him a brief overview of Jade’s situation—what I know of it—and then tell him she’s managed to fly under the radar, making sure to include there was a child involved. An unborn one at the time. “…other than her public arrest record, I couldn’t find anything else.”
“She probably changed her name,” Braeden says. “Who knows what the situation was with her kid’s birth father, and if she didn’t want to be traceable—which is clearly the case—I’m guessing that’s what happened. And probably not officially. When I changed my last name two years ago, it was because I wanted to have the last name of the people who raised me because they never legally adopted me. I filed my petition, did the necessary paperwork, and it was granted by a judge. But in this situation, she probably goes by an alias. That way she wouldn’t have to have record of it. It’d make things messy for a driver’s license and stuff with her kid, but people who run in the circles they do tend to do whatever they have to.”
“Shoot. I didn’t even think about that possibility.” I pinch the bridge of my nose, knowing how much more complicated that would make this search, if not entirely impossible. “Damn. That one hurts.”
Braeden chuckles. “I know, but based on what you told me, that’s the most likely scenario. Nothing at all comes up? Not even a high school article or something, if she was a star student? Maybe you should ask Jenna the details of their home address, where they attended high school, where Jade was going to college, etcetera. Probably won’t provide a lot of info, but even a little can go a long way. You know that as well as I do.”
I drum my fingers on my steering wheel. “That’s a good point. I should’ve thought of that.”
“Sometimes we’ve got to talk to someone else to have clarity within ourselves.”
“Yikes. Braeden, you’re starting to sound like some old wise person. What’s that all about?”
“I’m going to say it’s the fact that I’m going to be a dad in less than three months. But I’ll take it as a compliment.”
“I didn’t mean it as one, but okay,” I tease, and though I would never ask Braeden or Mark to leave their families or jobs up in Believe, this isn’t the first time I’ve wished I could have them on my team here. “Well, I guess I’ll let you get back to work. Thanks for the insight. Kind of.”
“Hey, before you go…”
He proceeds to ask me something about a time we were in college I can’t fully remember, which leads to another fifteen minutes of catching up. Fun fact of the day: some cops don’t eat donuts and drink coffee while sitting with our feet up on our desks. Some of us shoot the wind in our cruisers from miles apart with an old college buddy because sometimes it’s nice to talk to someone who knows the ups and downs that come with our jobs.
And for the record,shooting the windis not the same thing as small talk.
Once we do disconnect the call, I pull up Jenna’s texts. The idea that Jade might’ve changed her name—unofficially, at that—is still fresh in my mind, but I don’t want to try and have that conversation through texts. Some things are better left to communicate or discuss in person. The sensitive topic of Jenna’s older sister and niece or nephew is one of those things.
I have a few questions about Jade that would be best discussed in person,I type out.Is there a time that works for you?
Yes, I know it sounds like I’m texting my boss or something, but I can’t help it. I don’t send flowery, drawn-out text messages. In fact, I’d bet most men don’t. It’s simply not in our DNA.
