No Quick Fix (Torus Intercession 1)

“This one is yellow, not gold, and this one is kinda white.”

I was fading fast under her gentle ministrations.

“Daddy was supposed to walk me to Mariah’s house to get my Wonder Woman lunchbox,” she informed me. “Should I wait ’til he’s done?”

I was quiet for a moment, thinking about what I would say.

“Earth to Brann,” she teased me. “Come in, Brann.”

“You know, being passive-aggressive is not a good thing,” I told her with a groan. “Ask me straight out.”

“What is what you just said?”

“When you ask for something or you want something, you should simply come out and say it. Don’t do it in a roundabout way; nobody likes that.”

“I still don’t get it.”

“If you want me to go somewhere with you, you say ‘Brann, can you walk me to Mariah’s house ’cause she’s got my lunchbox and I want it back?”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh.”

“So just tell you what I need.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Okay. Can we go?”

I wasn’t about to do the can we versus may we bit with her, because I said can all the time myself. Once upon a time, I had a sergeant who used to say, “I dunno, can you?” whenever I asked him a question like that, but it never bothered me.

“Yeah. Let’s go to Mariah’s.”

“Awesome,” she agreed happily. “It’s only to the end of the street.”

“Lemme get my phone first,” I lied, rolling off the couch to go back to my room so I could get my Glock back out of the locked gun case I’d put it in when we got home. I needed it, it was necessary, but I really didn’t want either of the kids to know I was strapped.

It wasn’t far, seven doors down the street from the Dodd house, but when we got there, Olivia went from holding my hand to clutching it.

“What’s wrong?” I asked, turning to her.

She bit her lip but didn’t answer me.

“Livi?” I asked, a ripple of dread slithering its way down my spine.

“Mariah’s dad is here,” she said in a tiny scared voice that I hated hearing. “She told me that he’s not supposed to come here anymore.”

I stopped her from moving as a woman from across the street came out of her house on her cell phone.

“You should take Olivia home,” she told me, hand on her forehead as we both heard something break from inside the house.

“What’s going on?” I asked her, crossing to her with Olivia in tow.

“I… I can’t get the sheriff or the deputy on the phone, and Jenny has a restraining order against her ex, but a lot of good it’s going to do her if there’s no one here to—”

There was a yell and another crash and then a high-pitched wail.

“Poor Mariah,” Olivia whimpered beside me. “She’s so scared of her daddy.”

And just for that, her father should have been beaten, but this was not the time for me to say what I thought of men who terrorized their wives and children.

“Who are you?” I asked the woman quickly, sharply, drawing her attention.

“Oh, uhm, I’m Susan, Susan Whitley,” she said haltingly, clearly distracted by what was happening to her friend. “My daughter and Olivia and Mariah are all in gymnastics together.”

“Livi,” I said, taking hold of her shoulder and looking her in the eye. “I need you to stay here with Mrs. Whitley for a minute while I go get Mariah’s dad out of the house, all right?”

“What?” Susan gasped and grabbed hold of my wrist. “Oh, no. Jenny’s ex is a lumberjack, and that’s not me screwing with you—that’s actually what he does for a living. He’s huge.”

“Don’t worry,” I soothed her, patting her hand before I peeled her fingers off me and turned toward the house.

“Brann,” Olivia called out, her voice rising, clearly scared.

“Stay right there, Livi, and don’t move,” I ordered as I darted across the street.

At the front door that was busted in and bent, I pulled the Glock from the holster just above the top of my jump boot, straightened up, and slipped inside.

The living room was a riot of overturned furniture and broken glass, and farther in, there was a laundry basket that clothes had been thrown free of, and then a disaster of a kitchen.

“Mommy!” came a terrified scream.

Bolting down a short hall, I found a little girl pounding on a closed door. She was frantic, kicking it, hitting it, but she was small, fragile, and could only see out of one eye since the other was covered with blood.

I reached her and took her hand in mine. “Honey, I’m Olivia Dodd’s new nanny. Is your Mommy in there?”

She nodded, clutching at my hand, shaking hard from fear and shock, I was sure.

“Is your daddy in there too?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay,” I said gently, pointing a bit down the hall. “You go stand right over there for me so I can get Mommy.” Having no idea what I would find inside the room, I didn’t want the little girl to have any new horror added to those already in her head.