Page 14 of Daddy Detectives: Episode 2
Ian.
My Ian, so small and helpless.
My heart thuds painfully as I flip through the pages. The images progress chronologically, from birth to about four years of age. He’s alone in most of the photos, usually sitting on the floor playing with toys. A couple of the images were taken outside at a park, pictures of Ian sitting in a toddler swing, or sitting at the top of a colorful plastic slide. There’s one of him sitting in a sandbox holding a little yellow toy shovel. Beside him is a plastic yellow bucket.
Maybe it’s my imagination, but I see shadows beneath his eyes. He’s pale and gaunt, with hardly any muscle at all. There’s a wariness in his gaze as he stares at the camera.
And then I remember the stories he’s told me—about being locked in an upstairs bedroom for hours and hours on end while his mother was downstairs doing tricks for drug money. He’d sit alone in the dark, with little more than water and a box of cold cereal, and dream of Batman or Superman coming to his rescue.
My heart breaks for him all over again.
With the photo album tucked under one arm, I grab a fistful of Sharp’s T-shirt and slam him against the wall, hard. “If we hear another word from you, I promise you’ll regret it.”
“We?”
“I’m Ian’s husband. If you fuck with him, you fuck with me. You got that?”
“Husband? What the hell are you talking about?”
“He’s my husband! What’s so hard to understand?”
Sharp ponders my words for a minute, and then his eyes widen. “Oh.”
“Right. Oh! So if you fuck with him, you fuck with me. Is that clear?”
“Yeah, yeah, I get it.” That’s when he notices the photo album tucked under my arm. “What do you think you’re doing with that? It’s mine.”
“It’s not yours. It’s Rhonda’s, and it’s coming with me for safekeeping.”
As I head for the door, I remind him about what Rhonda said about wanting him out of her apartment. “I’d get out if I were you.”
* * *
Once I’m in my car, I drive a few blocks away before I pull over to park on a side street. The photo album is calling to me. I look through it again, this time more slowly, studying each image.
There’s one of Ian sitting cross-legged on the living floor playing with superhero figures. Another one of him playing with toy cars. His limbs are stick-thin, and he appears grossly underweight to me.
As I stare at these photos, my chest tightens until I’m having a difficult time breathing. I was about twenty years old when some of these later pictures were taken. I was almost out of college by that time and ready to begin my career as a policeofficer. And during that entire time, this sweet little boy was suffering.
All I can think is thank God Rhonda was forced to give up her parental rights and that the Alexanders were able to adopt him. They gave that little boy everything he needed to heal from his ordeal and grow into the amazing man he is today. Yes, he still carries those scars and wounds with him. I imagine he always will. But in spite of his dark early years, he was able to overcome the trauma and grow into the ray of sunshine he is today.
I pull out Rhonda’s note and send her a quick text message to let her know I spoke to Gary and I borrowed the photo album for safe keeping. I also tell her I told Gary to move out of the apartment.
I start my engine and pull out into traffic with one goal—I just want to go home and be with my little ray of sunshine. I want to hold him and kiss him and make up for every second of misery he endured.
On my drive home, I call Ruth so I can update her and Martin. I get her voicemail, which is not a surprise, so I leave her a detailed message. Then I head home to Ian. I don’t know if he’s ready to see these photos, but he deserves to know of their existence. They document a painful part of his life.
Chapter 6 – Ian
Ruby and I are sitting together on the sofa giving the babies their midafternoon bottles when I hear a car pull into the drive. At first, I feel a rush of panic, but almost immediately I relax. If it’s the blackmailer, he or she is hardly going to pull into our driveway and announce their presence. Besides, I’m surrounded by notone, buttwobodyguards who won’t let anything happen to us.
Jerry peers out the front window. Miguel joins him, his hand automatically going to his lower back, where I imagine he’s carrying a handgun.
“It’s Tyler,” Jerry says in his calm, monotone voice.
Miguel lowers his hand as he follows Jerry to the front door. A moment later, Miguel steps outside, calling to Tyler. Then the door closes, and we can’t hear anything they’re saying.
I glance beside me at Ruby, who’s sitting stiff as a board, looking more than a little tense. I think she’s still affected by the stalker who terrorized her not that long ago.
