Love You to Death Read online

  I had to do something quick or I’d be out of options. The street light ahead was changing from yellow to red. I coughed to cover the sound of the click as I released the seat belt.

  Angel Face slowed the car to a stop.

  It was now or never. I grabbed the handle of the door, pushed it open, and jumped from the car. I didn’t bother closing the door. He was hollering my name as I ran back in the direction we’d come, as fast as I could, praying the whole time.

  I knew Angel Face would be looking for me at the shelter. I couldn’t go there. I even figured he might go as far as to check out all the shelters. I’d have to steer clear for the night. I saw headlights and ducked into the recessed doorway of a shoe store. I held my breath as a taxi drifted by.

  I combed my fingers through my straggly hair. I had to think of somewhere to go. Normally, wandering around all night wasn’t so bad because I knew where the all-night places were. I suspected Angel Face did too. Another set of headlights sliced into the night. A police cruiser sped up the street.

  Most street kids make it a point to stay away from the police. A stay in juvie wasn’t exactly a day at the theme park, but sometimes it was the better choice, considering some the foster homes they stuck you in. I’d never had the pleasure of either, but a few of the other kids gave me the 411.

  The passing cruiser gave me an idea. Angel Face would probably never think to look for me at the police station. I wasn’t planning on getting arrested.

  There was a nice little alley around the back entrance of the police station downtown.

  Chapter Three

  I huddled into the corner made by a concrete wall and a metal dumpster. I had to keep swiping my sleeve under my nose to stop the steady stream of snot dripping out. But Jack Frost was nipping more than just my nose. The cement step I was sitting on seeped icy cold into my butt, numbing it.

  What I wouldn’t give for a nice warm bed, behind a dead bolted door.

  I was drifting off when I heard the soft hum of tires, a few car door slams, followed by footsteps. I sat up straight, instantly alert and ready to bolt.

  “Hey, Cass, haven’t seen you for a while. You comin’ or goin’, man?” a baritone voice called out.

  “I’m comin’, Franklin, always comin’,” another man replied, chuckling.

  My eyes almost popped out of my head. I recognized that voice. No way, it couldn’t be. I leaned back to peek through the wide crack between the station wall and the dumpster. The move made my backside tingle. I started to groan but caught myself.

  There stood Angel Face, cutting it up with a young uniformed officer. I hung my head between my legs and cursed my luck. I heard them laughing about another officer, a rookie, and something about a stolen taser. I don’t know why I did it. Maybe it was fear. Maybe it was my congealing blood from the early onset of hypothermia. Maybe it was both, but for whatever reason, I tried to make a run for it. I lurched to my feet, keeping hunched over to stay hidden behind the dumpster.

  But I’d been sitting too long, and the nerves in my legs were dead. When I tried to take a step, all I got was a painful explosion of needles and pins. I bit down hard on my lower lip, drawing blood. That awful coppery taste registered with my gag reflexes.

  I dropped to my knees, rubbing my thighs to get rid of the awful prickling. Tears threatened to spill, but I swallowed them back.

  “Stay on your knees! Get your hands up where I can see them.”

  I lifted my head, still working my thighs, and looked into the clear blue eyes of Angel Face. He was holding a gun, and it was pointed right at me. I saw the gleam of his badge hooked to his belt. I couldn’t believe it. Angel Face was a cop.

  “Well, well, well, if it isn’t my good friend, Cherry,” he smiled, his perfect snow white teeth practically glowing in the dark. He holstered his weapon and came toward me.

  “I got this one, Franklin,” he called over his shoulder.

  He grabbed me by the arm and hoisted me up. The stinging in my legs kicked up a notch, turning pins and needles into burning jabs. I cried out. Angel Face let go of me. I fell hard, right on my butt.

  “What is wrong with you?” he asked. There was a small measure of concern in his voice.

  “My legs fell asleep, you jerk.” I bit my lip to keep from crying as I clutched my legs. Angel Face bent down and scooped me up into his arms. I panicked, squirming to be free. He squeezed me, hard.

  “Settle down, Cherry. I’m just taking you inside to thaw out. You feel like a popsicle. Have you been here all night?”

  It wasn’t until we were inside, and the waves of warm air hit me, that I heard my teeth chattering. In fact, my whole body was shivering.

  “You little idiot,” he said with a sweet smile, carrying me into a small room that consisted of a faded, worn-out couch, a tiny table holding a coffee pot, and Styrofoam cups.

  I sighed as I sank into the lumpy cushions. He took his jacket off and covered me with it, his body heat still clinging to the fabric. I laid my head down and closed my eyes. I was waiting for my legs to stop tingling and my toes to just feel, period.

  * * * *

  I woke up with a start. I didn’t recognize where I was. I took inventory. I was fully dressed. I wasn’t bleeding. I wiggled my toes. My shoes were gone. Someone stole my shoes! I’d never last the winter without shoes. I jumped off the couch. The door was closed. I could hear the ebb and flow of body traffic on the other side.

  I cracked opened the door. The hallway was filled with cops. With a mousy little eek, I closed the door.

  It all came rushing back. Angel Face.

  I looked for my shoes, found them on the floor by the couch, and hurriedly put them on. I took a few deep calming breaths and inched toward the door.

  Everyone seemed to be busy faxing, filing, phoning, and everything in between. I didn’t see Angel Face. I straightened my shoulders and walked into the corridor teaming with law enforcement.

  Justbreathe. Justbreathe. Justbreathe.

  I made it to the double doors marked with a red-lettered exit sign. Just as I grabbed the long bar handle and pushed in on it, another hand shot out to pull it back.

  “Why are you always in such a hurry to leave me?” Angel Face asked. “You’re starting to hurt my feelings, Cherry.”

  “You’re breaking my heart,” I croaked. My morning voice was worse than usual. I needed something to drink.

  “How about some breakfast?” He held out a box of doughnuts.

  “Cop food,” I smirked. Unable to stop myself, I took two. Angel Face looked fresh as a spring breeze, even though he was still wearing the same clothes from last night. He pulled a plastic bottle of milk from his pocket. I almost purred.

  “Are you ready to have that talk now?” he asked. It was a rhetorical question.

  He led me back to the same room and shut the door behind him. I devoured both doughnuts and was licking glaze from my fingers when I saw the heat creep into his ice blue eyes. I lowered my fingers and twisted the cap off the bottle of milk.

  “I think we got off on the wrong foot,” he began. “Since you seemed less inclined to share with me after dinner—” He trailed off.

  “What, you thought you could bribe me with pastrami on rye?” I flashed him a sardonic smile.

  “I love your quick wit.” He grabbed a roll of paper towels from the coffeepot table, ripped one off, and handed it to me. I wrapped a third doughnut in the paper towel. Last night I’d eaten the chips I was saving for Stewie, so I’d give him a doughnut instead.

  “You can have the whole box,” Angel Face told me, watching me ease the pastry into my backpack. Slightly embarrassed, I shrugged my shoulders, like I could take or leave his offer.

  “First off, I think we should introduce ourselves. My name is Detective Cassel Bateman. Most people call me Cass.” He held his hand out. I narrowed my eyes suspiciously, but shook his hand.

  “Cherry,” I said.

  “You have a real stubborn streak, Arden Elliott,”
his tone pitched low as he said my name.

  I yanked my hand back, fisting it at my side. I hadn’t heard anyone say my real name in so long it caught me off guard. I felt the familiar flutter in my chest. Images swirled in my mind. Me and my mom bent over a cake, frosting on our face and hands, laughing... “Happy Birthday, Arden...”

  “How?” I glared at him.

  “I’m a detective. I detected.” He smiled mischievously. “I went through your backpack. Let’s see what I found out... Arden Rachel Elliott, born on October 31 in Harford County, Maryland to Curtis and MaryAnn Elliott. Mrs. Elliott is deceased.” He recited the information with all the warmth of a computer printout. I cringed when he said their names. More images flickered... Blood everywhere, my mother staring up at me with empty eyes.

  “Shut up,” I gritted between my clenched teeth.

  “You’ve had a real hard time, haven’t ya sweetheart?” His voice softened. He came to stand in front of me. I refused to look at him. “Daddy was a mean drunk. Momma tried to keep him away only to have him keep coming back until he finally did what he kept promising to do.”

  I squeezed my eyes shut, holding the tears in. Somewhere in the distance there was the loud bang of a heavy door slamming shut, reminding me of a gun blast, making me jump. I hiccupped a sob at the same time I raised my fist. My tightly curled hands pounded on his chest and arms. I didn’t care if they arrested me. I hated him for bringing it all back.

  Cass easily captured my flying fists and pulled me into his arms, rocking me gently. I struggled. He held on tight. I finally gave up and rested my face on his chest.

  The tears found their way out and rolled down my cheeks. Cass shushed into my ear. I hadn’t allowed myself to grieve, at all, in the last eight months, since that awful day. Instead, the unwelcome feelings and emotions were pushed deep into the empty spaces inside of me, where I kept them locked away, until now.

  How long had it been since someone comforted me like this? A hug, an actual heartfelt embrace that showed someone cared? A little voice inside my head whispered warnings, but I didn’t listen.

  When I recovered from my cry baby meltdown, clear thinking kicked in. My first instinct was usually always right, and it told me to steer clear of this man. I couldn’t help but think I might be wrong, just this once. How bad could he be? He was a cop after all. And he clearly had a softer side. He’d let me blubber all over his nice suit jacket.

  “I knew there was more to you than a pretty face and a bad attitude,” he joked, smoothing his fingers over my tangled hair. “I dug round a little.” He handed me another paper towel. “Seems you have an aunt over in Edgewood. I’m gonna call her—”

  “No! I won’t stay with that woman.” I jerked away from him. My mother’s sister was a witch, complete with a flying broom. She’d hated my mom and talked trash about her. I would rather live on the streets than live with that heartless cow.

  Cass narrowed his eyes, pursing his lips. I recognized this look now. It was his thinking face. “Alright...” he said, staring earnestly into my eyes. “What do you suggest I do? I can’t let you stay out there on the street, Arden.” I cringed again when he said my name. He didn’t seem to notice.

  “You’re going to be eighteen in a few weeks,” he continued. “I can’t tell you what to do, but I can tell you that it won’t get any easier for you out there.” He reached into the inside of his jacket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. He offered me one. I shook my head.

  “I know, bad habit, right?” He took out a cigarette and stuck it between his nice white teeth. I was sure he bleached them.

  “They’ll kill you,” I said, as I watched him cock his head and light the cancer stick.

  “Everybody has to die of something.” He inhaled deeply then exhaled a cloud of toxic fumes.

  I didn’t acknowledge the comment. I was antsy to leave, ready to get back to my life of blissful oblivion. Back to where no one knew me as Arden Elliott or anything about my painful past. I grabbed the box of doughnuts on my way to the door. Cass didn’t try to stop me, which kinda surprised me.

  The early morning air was a little nippy, but the sun was fierce, warming my face. It was a nine-block trek to the shelter and, not for the first time, I wished I owned a pair of sunglasses. I ate another doughnut as I walked, balancing the box carefully under my arm, guarding it like it was a million dollars instead of fried dough smothered in sugar water.

  Stewie was beside himself when I opened the box. He ate the rest of them like a man on death row. His hair was sticking up in the back, and his clothes were dirty. Cass’s parting words of wisdom echoed in my ears. It was hard enough to take care of myself. How was I supposed to take care of Stewie too?

  Buck Rogers sometimes called us George and Lenny, the characters from John Steinbeck’s Of Mice and Men. I’d read it in school. I sure hoped our ending would be better than the one in the book.

  I’d stolen two toothbrushes from the Rite Aid. After breakfast, I fished them from my pack and handed one to Stewie. He giggled over the Batman handle. I didn’t realize we’d run out of toothpaste, but I figured brushing without it was better than not at all. I also swiped some dental floss. I hated to steal, but I hated cavities worse.

  The next few days passed in a slow haze. The weather cooperated, no rain, so we walked all over the city, just for something to do. Sunday we decided to head over to Fells Point, in the historic district, for a change of scenery. I’d forgotten all about the Fun Festival. The cobblestone streets were crammed with people listening to live music, watching the dancers, and eating.

  I lifted the wallet off a young guy who was well past his legal limit to drive. I felt a brief twinge of guilt, but it didn’t last long once the aroma of pit beef caught my nose. My stomach grumbled to life.

  “I’m hungry, Cherry,” Stewie whined.

  “Me too, big guy.” I steered him toward a vendor and opened the wallet. “Sorry, Josh Foster, I gotta eat.” I mumbled as I emptied the wallet of all its money, eighty bucks. I’d turn the wallet in later, but for now, Stewie and me, we were living large.

  After we scarfed down the sandwiches, we bought French fries and funnel cakes. My stomach felt like it was going to explode.

  There was a marionette show starting in five minutes. Stewie was rocking back and forth on his heels with excitement.

  “Please, Cherry, please can we watch?”

  I didn’t have the heart to deny him. We sat in the front row and waited. I didn’t pay much attention to the show. I smiled at Stewie as he clapped along with the other children.

  I sat there letting my mind wander. Usually a mistake, but once it gets going, my brain picks up momentum and rushes on until it runs out of steam. My mom used to tell me the mind was a terrible thing to waste.

  I closed my eyes and did the one thing I promised myself never to do more than once a year. I pictured her face.

  It was a warm summer day. She was wearing her favorite dress, light pink cotton with thin straps. Her short, wavy brown hair softly styled around her face. She was laughing at something I’d said, crinkling her gentle gray eyes, and tipping her head back.

  I opened my eyes, the same gentle gray as hers, forcing the image to disappear.

  She’d brought me to the Fun Festival once, about two years ago. It felt like a lifetime ago. We’d done the same thing I was doing with Stewie. Eating, walking, and enjoying the shows. I was thinking about her way too much these past few days. Not that I didn’t want to. It simply hurt too much. I blamed it on my run-in with Angel Face.

  “Cherry, can we watch it again?” Stewie tugged on my sleeve. I didn’t trust my voice, so I nodded. I’ve learned a lot this past year.

  The most important lesson is that you have to enjoy life while it lasts, because you never know what the future will bring.

  Chapter Four

  Two weeks later I was arrested for shoplifting.

  For a measly pack of socks, I was facing the possibility of ninety days in jai
l. Not juvie, but a real jail, complete with iron bars. My eighteenth birthday was a week away, but they were charging me as an adult.

  They fingerprinted me, took my picture, and threw me in a holding cell. They confiscated my backpack. Everything I had in this world was in that pack. I sat on the cot, with my knees knocking together, holding my stomach as it rolled. Thank God I’d left Stewie in the toy department.

  We’d discussed emergency situations like this before, so I knew he’d head to the shelter when he couldn’t find me. I leaned over on the cot, curled tightly in a ball, still holding my stomach. It was official. I was a juvenile delinquent. If my mother were here she’d kill me. I chuckled softly, on the verge of hysteria. If my mother were here, I wouldn’t be anywhere near a place like this.

  “Good to see you still have a sense of humor,” Cass said through the bars.

  I didn’t move. I didn’t even open my eyes. Why wouldn’t he go away and leave me alone?

  “Can’t leave you alone for a minute, can I?”

  When I didn’t answer him, he went on.

  “What would your momma say if she were here? I don’t think she’d be too happy to see her baby girl in the same situation as her daddy.”

  “Just shut up about my family!” I snapped, sitting up, shooting daggers at him.

  “Hoohoo, what a temper...” He raised his eyebrows appreciatively. “I came to work today thinking about you. Wondering what you and Sped Ed were up to. Then, I get a case report tossed on my desk. My good buddy Franklin remembered you. So, I thought I might come and see if you needed anything.”

  I stared up at him, stunned. I wanted to hate him. I wanted to tell him to piss off and leave me alone. I couldn’t seem to stop myself, though. I stared at him, taking him in. He was dressed in a dark slate gray suit with a powder blue tie that matched his eyes. His platinum blond hair was casually haphazard. He really was good looking.

  He watched me studying him with a perceptive look. I had no idea what he was thinking, but when his lips curled up into a predatory smile I had a good guess. Men were all alike.