Page 18 of Daddy Detectives: Episode 2
Her eyes are so bleak, she looks broken, not just physically but emotionally as well. “I did it to protect you, honey. I was afraid they’d hurt you—the men. Some of them would have tried if they’d known you were there.”
When Ian stumbles, I catch him and lower him into a chair. Mother and son, they’re both lost. They’re both broken-hearted.
I crouch down in front of Ian and take his hands in mine. They’re shaking.
“Did you hear that?” he asks.
“Yes, I did.”
“She was trying to protect me.” His voice is so hopeful, as if he’s desperate for that to be true. Desperate for an explanation that makes sense.
“I know.”
And then the dam breaks, and he falls into my arms, sobbing, as years of pain and suffering rise up and pour out of him.
* * *
The ER doctor, a petite black woman, and I speak in hushed tones outside Rhonda’s room. According to the officers who escorted her here, Gary Sharp beat her with a baseball bat. She has a possible head injury, a broken nose, and a broken right arm. There’s a lot of bruising as well.
“She’s lucky to be alive,” the doctor says. “According to the police report, a neighbor heard the commotion and called 911. Otherwise, if he’d kept it up, he probably would have killed her.”
I glance into the room at Ian, who’s still sitting in the chair, staring straight ahead at a wall, deep in thought. My guess is he’s reliving old memories, perhaps seeing them in a new light. Maybe his mother wasn’t the monster he always thought she was.
Rhonda is staring at her son like she’s desperately trying to memorize the sight of him. Like she’s afraid this is her one and only chance—that she’ll never get to see him again.
“We’re sending her to Imaging for an X-ray of her arm and an MRI of her head. She’ll be tied up in testing for a few hours.” The doctor glances at Ian. “Is he okay?”
“He’s her son,” I say. “This is the first time they’ve seen each other in twenty years.”
“Yikes.” The doctor nods. “It might be best if he comes back tomorrow. She’ll be more clearheaded then, better able to talk to him. Certainly in less pain.”
A hospital staff member steps into the room and prepares to move Rhonda’s bed. Ian doesn’t put up any resistance when I lead him out of the ER, out into the parking lot.
I walk him to the front passenger seat and open his door. “Let’s go home.”
“Do you think she’ll be okay?”
“She’ll be fine. If you want to see her again, we’ll come back.”
Ian is quiet on the drive home, lost in his thoughts. I imagine he can’t get the memory of Rhonda’s battered face and body out of his head.
When we arrive home, we find Layla and Jason sitting on the sofa in the living room, each holding a sleeping infant. Empty baby bottles and burp cloths are lying on the coffee table.
“How’d they do?” Ian asks his sister as he peers down at Lizzie, who is sleeping soundly in Layla’s arms.
“Fine,” she says. “They got hungry about half an hour after you left. We fed them, and then they fell asleep again. We’ve been staring at them ever since.”
“How’d it go with Ian’s mom?” Jason asks.
“She’s pretty banged up,” I say. “She has a broken arm, nose, and a possible head injury, but it sounds like she’s going to be okay.”
“How do you feel?” Layla asks her brother.
Ian sighs, as if he doesn’t know where to begin.
I reach down and take Lizzie from Layla. “Why don’t you come upstairs with me?” I ask Jason. I think it would do Ian good to have some time alone with his sister. “Help me put the babies to bed.”
Jason stands, shifting his hold on Will. “Sure.” He follows me into the hall and toward the stairs.
