Targeted. Becky Avella

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       THREE

      Rick maneuvered around the tricycle blocking the walkway leading up to the Watkinses’ modest blue bungalow. He gestured for Stephanie to climb the steps to the front door ahead of him. Savory aromas wafted out to them like a welcoming committee. Rick’s stomach contracted, begging him to feed it. It had been a long day with no food, and his shift didn’t end for another two hours, and that was only if he didn’t get held for overtime. Rick couldn’t help but hope Val would feed him before he rejoined the search for Hale. Nothing he could make for himself or grab at a drive-through window would compare to her cooking.

      Valencia Watkins came from a long line of Latina women famous for their skill in the kitchen. She did not believe a single bachelor could cook well enough to keep himself alive. All six feet five inches of her well-fed African-American husband revealed how Val loved people. She fed them, and one bite of her cooking had forever convinced Rick he would never turn down an offer to eat at her table.

      “Mmm. I can smell Val’s cooking all the way out here,” Stephanie said. She gave him a crooked half smile. The urge to do or say something to make that smile reach her eyes, to light up her face as it usually did, hit him hard.

      It relieved Rick to deliver Stephanie here. With Hale loose, she wasn’t completely safe, but he couldn’t imagine her being in much danger in this place. This little blue house full of good smells and toys underfoot always felt like a haven to him.

      The Watkinses’ six-year-old son, Joash, answered the doorbell. His dark eyes lit up when he saw Rick and Stephanie standing on his front porch. The boy hugged Stephanie, then he turned to Rick and lifted the baseball mitt on his left hand. “It isn’t raining as hard now. Wanna come out and play catch with me?”

      “Sorry, Joe. Can’t today, I’m working.” As he ruffled the boy’s black hair, the gesture left him hollow. Although he often ruffled the fur on top of Axle’s head, this time the motion reminded him of someone else.

       Allie.

      Rick hadn’t allowed himself a conscious thought about his former fiancée in a long time. It was always safer to block memories after she called off their engagement, but every once in a while a stray one like this floated to the surface before he could stop it.

      Allie had always been so proud of her glossy dark hair. She would spend hours fixing it with a pile of products and styling tools Rick couldn’t imagine counting. Sometimes he would be a pest and mess up her hair on purpose, but other times it was simply an unconscious show of affection. Regardless of what his intentions might have been, Allie’s response had always been the same: ducking, slapping away his hand and moaning, “Knock it off, Rick, I just fixed my hair.” He figured the rich, ambulance-chasing attorney that Allie had married this past summer never messed up her hair like that. Rick shoved his memories down deep where they belonged and commanded them to stay put, turning his attention back to his friends in the present.

      Terrell stood in the doorway and waved them inside while Joash ran through the house announcing their arrival, “Mama! Stephanie and Officer Powell are here!”

      Val appeared with her three-year-old daughter, Hadassah, trailing behind her. When Val saw Stephanie, she said, “Stephanie. Thank God you are all right.”

      “Hi, Haddie,” Rick said to the little girl. She hid behind her mom, but peeked out around her to grin at him.

      Val wrapped Stephanie up into her arms. “I have been so worried about you.”

      “Thanks, Val,” Stephanie told her friend. She glanced from Val to Rick to Terrell. “I’m fine. Still a little confused about what’s going on, though.”

      Rick winced. He should have told her something during the car ride from the school to the Watkinses’ house. Even if it were glossed over, some information would have helped to put her mind at ease, but no matter how he rehearsed it in his head, the explanation kept sounding something a little like, Hey, Stephanie, you know that serial killer the news has been talking about for the past year. Guess what? That’s Julian Hale. And by the way, I sure like your last staff photo. Hale must have liked it, too, because he has it pinned to his “People to Kill Next” bulletin board.

      He had never been known for his eloquence, especially with women. Eventually she had stopped asking, making the rest of the car ride quiet and awkward. He had convinced himself that not answering her was the right thing to do. Terrell and Stephanie had a long history together. He would know best how to tell her.

      They all stepped into the living room. Terrell’s raised eyebrows asked Rick behind Stephanie’s back, you didn’t tell her?

      Rick shook his head negative.

      “Come eat,” Val said. “You, too, Rick,” she instructed. “Everything will seem better on a full stomach.”

      Rick’s grinned, “Well, if you insist.”

      “I insist,” Val informed him as she ushered Stephanie out of the living room and into the kitchen to help her put the meal on.

      “You didn’t tell her anything about Hale yet?” Terrell asked him as soon as Stephanie was out of earshot. When Rick shrugged his shoulders, Terrell rolled his eyes and shook his head, “Didn’t know you were a coward, Powell.”

      “Ha!” Rick pointed a finger at Terrell. “You just wish I had gotten it over with so you wouldn’t have to break it to her yourself.”

      “Guilty as charged. Hopefully Val is telling her now.” Terrell clapped a large hand on Rick’s shoulder. “Well, you heard the lady. Check out for your lunch break, and let’s get in there and eat.” Then he added, his signature goofy grin back in place, “Like I always say, don’t try to catch a serial killer on an empty stomach.”

      “That’s what you always say, huh?” Rick chuckled and then checked out on his radio. He would have thirty minutes to eat before he had to get back to work. He hoped an urgent call wouldn’t come over the radio before he got to taste what he could smell. Lunch break or not, he had to run when certain calls came over the air, even if it meant leaving Val’s amazing cooking behind.

      Joash ran into the room and tugged on his arm. “Can I say hi to Axle?”

      “If there’s time, I’ll get him out for a bit after we eat, but Axle and I and your dad have some important work to do today.”

      Joash beamed and smacked an imaginary ball into the baseball mitt he still wore. “Officer Powell, can I sit next to you at dinner?”

      “Sure, bud.” Joash was such a cute kid, with his missing СКАЧАТЬ