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Being a homicide detective helps bring justice to the family of a murdered person. Being in my unit, I’m able to affect the lives of living people.
The image of my brother when he left the other day won’t stop plaguing my mind. He’s mad and hurt that I didn’t turn to him; that I didn’t call him when I woke up. And I get it, but at the same time, I had Gabriel’s whereabouts front and center to worry about. I couldn’t allow what happened to me to step in front of that, so pushing it to the back of my mind was a necessity.
A shudder runs through me. More tears fall, dropping and sliding down my thighs.
More and more it’s getting harder to ignore the baby I lost. Why didn’t I know? There was a life growing inside of me. Isn’t that something a woman should have instincts about? I rely on my instincts daily, so why did they fail me this time? And why does this hurt that lives deep inside me only grow? I thought loss was supposed to ease with each day, not fester.
When does it stop? I want it to stop. I didn’t know I was pregnant. I never experienced the shock or the joy, so what right do I have to feel this way?
Why do I feel lost and messed up in the head over something I didn’t know existed until it was stolen from me?
Maybe it doesn’t go away. That thought wracks me even more. Maybe this is a hurt that you never recover from. God, I hope not. I don’t want to forget. I’m not asking for that, but I do want the holes in my chest to fill. The only way I know to achieve that is to find Gabriel. I’ll do anything to find him—anything.
Last night I stalked Chasity’s Facebook page. She’s a sociable one. Bitter seeps in as I picture her face in my mind.
Connie confirmed for me last night that Chasity was informed of Gabriel’s kidnapping the day it happened and she told the officer that Gabe was our problem now. We took him, so he’s ours.
I grit my teeth, balling my fists. How did she give birth to him and not feel a thing? I never knew my baby, and I’m wracked with too many emotions at once. Sorrow and guilt trumping all of them.
Pushing up from the floor, I force myself to be done with the pity party I’m having. This does nothing to help find Gabriel.
Chasity posted she would be spending the day pampering herself at Serenity, the spa located inside The Cove Hotel. So, that’s where I plan on being too.
Eric arranged it earlier this morning, ensuring I would be getting a pedicure at the exact same time she would.
I can’t even enjoy the thought of a free Pedi when my mind is focused on pulling information out of her—and I will. If I have to use threats, then so be it. If I have to get physical with her, I will. I meant what I said. I will do anything at this point to find Gabriel.
I have to.
His life is important. He matters and doesn’t deserve what was placed on his shoulders. Diaz will go down for using him as a pawn, for kidnapping him. No one has ever been able to pin a drug charge on him, but we can charge him with kidnapping. If found guilty, he would serve time. Although, prison is too good for him, and in my eyes, not justice.
It’s hard to come to terms with that thought. I don’t believe in the death penalty or killing a person outside of self-defense. Yet, all the anger I hold for Sebastian Diaz that’s exactly what I want. But even so, justified murder in one’s mind is still murder nonetheless.
I have doubts that I could pull the trigger, ending his life, even if it is what he deserves.
Am I that person?
Can I do it?
Only time will tell.
* * *
Thumbing through a fashion magazine,my toes soak in the hot bubbly water in front of my reclined chair. Supposedly, it’s some kind of coconut scent, but I don’t smell anything over the heavy chemicals wafting through the air. I usually paint my own toes, not allowing myself to spend money on this luxury. When Alana and I do this, at her treat, I’m able to relax and enjoy the experience.
Today I’m not afforded that familiarity. There will be no relaxation until I’ve apprehended Sebastian Diaz and I know Gabriel is safe. God, I pray I find him safe and sound. I really don’t know how much more of this worry and anxiety I can handle.
If it’s this bad and I’m not even his parent, I can’t imagine what it must feel like for a real mom or dad to lose their child.
Briefly, my mind thinks about the child I did lose, but I keep shoving those thoughts as far back and away from my conscious thoughts as possible. Now isn’t the time, and I’m not sure I want to face those feelings.
Movement to my right gains my attention as someone takes a seat in the chair next to me. I don’t need to look at her to know it’s Chasity Carlisle. It’s already been arranged that she would be seated next to me.
I wait until her feet are soaking in the bubbly water and mine are resting on the platform outside the soaking tub where the pedicurist is filing the bottom of my foot. She’s carrying on a conversation with one of her coworkers, and they’re not paying their clients. That works out better for me anyway. I don’t need or want them to be chatty or hear me speak to Gabriel’s mother.
Glancing over, I pretend to be interested in the shade of nail polish Miss Carlisle places down next to the pedicurist station.
“That’s a pretty shade. What is it, if you don’t mind me asking?”
