“All I needed was my little girl . . .” I remember the day well. I had met with him that morning, showed him the discrepancy in his case files. The proof that he had fudged police documents for a local judge had done him in. Cornered, he agreed to let us go.For the first time in forever, there seemed to be an expiration date to my nightmare. I agreed with his version of a divorce, declining Connie and Samuel Billingslea’s assistance. Adnan would win.
His houses.
His cars.
His career.
His money.
I had Arika, which was all I ever needed.
That afternoon, Adnan blindsided me with an emergency child-custody hearing. Adnan beguiled the judge into believing I was a drug addict, all to keep Arika from me. It didn’t take much, seeing it was the very same judge whose daughter I’d uncovered incriminating evidence about. The temporary court order gave himfullcustody.
The judge condemned anything I said, and neither Billingslea was available for the hearing. All I had was a public defender—thependejowasn’t much of an advocate. As I walked out of court in crushing defeat, Adnan claimed to miss me. He’d claimed his heart was on fire in his chest,burning inside out, becauseI’druined our marriage. I’d slapped him and begged for our daughter. To add salt to a back full of stab wounds, I got an assault charge on court grounds, and they hauled me off to jail.
A few days later, that motherfucker left our daughter in his sleek sports car. He abandoned her during one-hundred-plus-degree weather.Forgother, he said. When a child is left in a vehicle at extreme temperatures, their body cooks from the inside out.
Burns from the inside out.
Adnan loves himself above all. His parents are a close second. As his spouse, I came in last. Though, he had a misconstrued notion thatyoudon’t leavehim.He’d forced a pregnancy upon me. It was the only chain shackled to my body that I never wanted broken. But I didn’t love Arika until I saw her sweet, little face, heard her first cry, and touched her tiny hand with the palm of my own.
I glance out the window to the ugliest parts of LA where an abandoned, focusing on a tagged apartment.Kieran stole me from this world. He gave me paradise. But he also woke me up. I can no longer bury my pain, bury Arika’s memory.
“Ava, where were you just now?” Connie asks in a soothing, therapeutic tone.
“Just thinking I should get ready for work. Night shift.” I give a wan smile, struggling not to focus on Kiera or the man who plucked every chord in my body, heartstrings included. The morning I left, while Kiera and I were making breakfast, I told her to be strong forhim.I promised to return.
Tonight’s showtime. Every conniving bone in my body must follow through with vindicating my daughter. Maybe I’ll elude the cops after Adnan’s death.
Maybe I won’t.
I arise from the seat, and Connie promises, “Just a little longer. Wewillget him.” I offer another tired smile and walk out of her office. I stroll around a cluster of cubicles, reading Kiera’s latest text.
You’re the sister I never had.
Oye, chica.Kiera’s smarter than her years. She couldn’t stop me, but she knew what Ineeded.Come hell or high water, I’m doing this—or I’ll die trying.
45
Kieran
Acouple of hours ago, Fenway Park overflowed with fans. Kiera figured we were having a family reunion of sorts. The lassie took the liberty of purchasing everyone, from the oldest to the youngest MacKenzie, Blythe’s MLB jersey. Last night at Donahue’s, while Kiera handed them out, Leith congratulated me. He said I now know what it feels like to bleed money for love. Aye, his little Mia bleeds him dry.
Tonight, it’s just us guys in the entertainment room of my home, except for Uncle Ewan, who snuck Big Brody off to a strip club. Beers all around. Highlights from a recent boxing match are on the massive television.
“Leith, thefeckare you doing here? Chevelle took the chains off yourbaws?” Knox asks.
“That’s a good one.” I wag a finger. “Leith, you should go upside his head.”
Leith glances away from his laptop and looks at me sideways. “I’ve got a feeling you’ll intervene—except, you’ll sneak a lick in while helping me.”
“No, I’d not help you. And ain’t no sneakingshitein. But aye, I’ll take another reason to fight.” I glance around the table, tossing a chip at Camdyn. “Where’re the knives?”
“His whole heart,” Knox says, gripping his own chest, “hurts. You’ve the bird girl; he had the tree gir—”
“Willow,” Camdyn growls. “Cuz, is it true when you murder one twin the other?”
“We ain’t twins,” James groans. “Our mam had a habit of dressing us in the same thing. Firth too.”