Redemption: AmBw Romantic Suspense

I made sure to bring my phone and a few tools from the old days that I kept in a black book bag.

Once outside, cold slapped my face. I thought the storm would lighten. It hadn’t. Three feet of snow had turned into four. By morning it would be well over six feet. A record number for this area of Washington.

I trudged through the snow, pushing piles of the freezing white powder away to make a path. My breathing came out in frosted puffs.

What the hell am I doing? This probably won’t get me anything.

But those bruises entered my mind again. Although they lay safely upstairs in my guest room, how long would they be protected?

At least, I can figure out what’s going on?

Meanwhile, Salt and Pepa leaped and chased each other, having a grand old time. They disappeared off to the other side of the property, bouncing in and out of piles of snow.

At least somebody is having fun this evening.

It took close to ten minutes to get to the SUV. Had there not been any snow, it would’ve been a quick five. When I approached, I pulled out my phone and switched on the flashlight app. Snow coated the whole vehicle. I took my time scraping the license plate clean. Once it was clear enough to make out the numbers and letters, I took a picture and sent it to Kevin.

My phone rang seconds later.

“Hey, Yo-yo.”

I groaned.

“Sorry. . .Yoshiro. What’s up?”

“Find out what you can about the license plate I sent you.”

“I was wondering what that was about. Who’s car is it?” Kevin asked.

“Just find out who owns it for me.”

“No name?”

“It may be owned by a woman named Ebony.”

“Do you have her last name?” Kevin asked.

“No, not yet. When I do, I’ll let you know.”

“What do you want me to find out?” he asked.

“Everything you can.”

“Al-righty.”

“How long will it take?”

“I’m looking now.”

“Good. Maybe I can get the registration.” I backed up from the SUV, pushed a tunnel over to the passenger side, took out my tools, and jimmied the lock. The door opened with no problem. I reached into the glove compartment and pulled out a black leather pouch. “Okay. I’ve got something. Her name is Ebony Day. Address is in Los Angeles.”

“Got it. Anything else.”

After reading off the street address, I looked through some of the papers. “It’s just insurance. Do you need it?”

“Naw. This is good enough.”

I heard tapping from his side.

Kevin spoke, “She’s clean. No criminal record. Not even a traffic ticket.”

“Figured. What else?”

“She’s married to a Wyatt Day.”

I frowned. “Look him up.”

“O-kay.” Kevin was smart enough to not ask questions. He knew I wouldn’t give him answers, even if he did. “Wyatt Day is another story. Several assaults. A few drug charges. Fuck. Ebony Day has a restraining order against him.”

“When did she put it in?”

“Five years ago and then a second one another three years ago.” Kevin coughed. “She’s not the only women that has a restraining order against him.”

“How many others?”

“Three. Two women in California. Another in Oregon, right outside of Portland—Selena Garcia. He also is wanted for questioning for a missing women in California—Cynthia Henderson. She was one of the woman that had an order on him in Cali.”

The information left a bad taste in my mouth.

I put everything back in the glove compartment and shut the door. “Get anything else you can on Wyatt Day, along with a picture and address.”

“Everyone’s looking for him. An official address might be hard to find.”

“You’ll find him.”

“Fine. I’ll see if I can get some credit cards or something.”

I headed back to the house. “How much do you want for it, Kevin?”

“Nothing. The beat down you gave to those guys got me a bonus with the manager. He’s happy that he hired me.”

I grinned. “You told him that you did it?”

“Of course.”

“Good.”

“I know you don’t want any attention.”

“You made it home safely?” I scanned the space for Salt and Pepa, not seeing them anywhere.

“Yeah it was a bitch on the roads, but I made it. I bet the club will be closed all week.”

“Good. No one needs to be out.” I whistled for the dogs.

They barked and headed my way.

“Okay, Yo-yo. I’ll get that stuff for you and send it to your email.”

“Good. And this year for Christmas, do me a favor.”

“What’s that?”

“Stop calling me Yo-yo.” Smiling, I hung up and placed the phone in my pocket.

Wyatt Day. That’s the abuser’s name.

I didn’t know what I would do with that information yet. The storm would be out. There would be no need to worry about him coming this way.

Too bad. I would love to meet him.

I got back inside the house with drenched dogs. It took several minutes to dry them off with towels. The furry demons lounged by the fireplace, after that and drifted off to sleep.