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  Derrick should be there for her. Janelle would have wanted him to protect her. She’d wanted to introduce them, and that caused another jolt to his insides. If he’d said yes, she would have waited, and even if Mike had still fought with him, she probably wouldn’t have left when she did.

  “My Dark Angel saved me,” Kristina whispered to the officer.

  Derrick clasped his hand over his mouth. “Oh, my God.”

  Those words would doom his family.

  The officer knelt down in front of her. “Your Dark Angel? Was he a black man?”

  “Don’t think so.”

  “Did he hurt your mommy?”

  She whipped her head back and forth. “No. He tried to save her. He was mad at the bad guy.”

  “Do you remember what he looked like?”

  She shook her head. “The bad guy? He looked mean. Dirty.”

  “Okay. We’ll get you with a sketch artist. Someone who draws faces.”

  “I draw,” she whispered, and Derrick’s eyes stung again. She’d drawn Janelle that beautiful picture just a little over a month ago. “My mommy…was…gonna get me lessons.”

  The officer opened the front door for her. “He’s a nice man. Maybe he’ll let you draw too.”

  “My mommy’s in heaven, isn’t she?”

  “Yes, sweetie. I’ll protect you. I have a daughter who looked like you, but she’s almost all grown up. I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

  The officer drove off, and Derrick prayed Kristina would be okay. Social services would step in, but as beautiful as she was, most couples weren’t looking to adopt an eight-year-old girl with three dead family members.

  Derrick headed in the direction that scumbag had gone. He was exhausted and wanted to go home, but he needed to find him and make him pay, and he couldn’t go home. Michael was there, and he’d probably kill him.

  He searched the alleys, dumpsters, boxes, any place degenerates like him might hide. He hadn’t gotten anything, so he still needed money to get his fix, so more than likely he’d look for someone else to mug. Though…he’d hit him hard enough that he probably had a concussion.

  Derrick made three loops of Somerville, then sunk to his knees. Janelle was gone. She’d only been a part of his life for little more than a month, but he’d looked forward to their afternoons together. Her smile, the way she knew immediately what he was thinking. He could still feel her soft skin in his hand. But he’d never even had a chance to kiss her. And based on their conversations, she’d never been with anyone. She’d been taking care of Kristina for so long, right from high school to college, and she mentioned a couple of times that she’d never allow a man in their house with Kristina home. The woman was a saint. And that loser had taken her life…stolen her from Kristina, who’d never know how great she really was, all that she’d given up for her.

  Derrick made the trek to his vehicle, but just slumped behind the wheel. He had no strength to go anywhere. A tap on his window brought him up fast. No one had ever snuck up on him before.

  Michael stood outside the door. His eyes were red, and his normally happy face drooped downward. “I’m so sorry, Derrick. Please open the door.” Derrick opened the door and rolled out. Michael caught him and held on to him. “I didn’t mean...I’m sorry.”

  The tears still didn’t come, but his heart felt like it’d been torn in two and could never be repaired. “How did—”

  “I saw it on the news. A beautiful woman like her. The reporter was all over it. Again, how could I have known… I just…I don’t know what else to say. I’m sorry.”

  Derrick fell back against his vehicle, his head dropping to his chest. “I loved her. I’m pretty sure she was the one…”

  “Where’s her daughter? The news said her eight-year-old daughter witnessed the attack.”

  “She’s safe…” Derrick closed his eyes. “But I couldn’t save Janelle. He stabbed her in the descending aorta.”

  “You saw her?”

  “I was too late…I watched her fall to the ground after that degenerate shoved a knife into her chest. For what…a few bucks…jewelry he’d get twenty bucks for on the street. I took him out before he could hurt her daughter, but I was too late to save Janelle.”

  Michael grabbed him by the shoulders. “They saw you?”

  Shaking his head, Derrick shoved Mike away from him. “Are you serious right now? Do you think I give a rat’s ass if that scumbag saw me? You think he’s going to run to the police?”

  “The girl?”

  “She saw a shadow…nothing more. No one will believe her, even if she says someone saved her.”

  Michael shook his head. “Derrick, we can’t have that. We have to make sure.”

  Derrick launched at his brother, this time encircling his hands around his throat. “You touch her, I’ll kill you. Anyone. No one touches her.”

  He released his grip, and Michael stumbled backward. “I understand you’re hurt, but you’re not acting like an overseer right now, Derrick.” With that, his brother took off.

  Derrick spent the rest of the evening hunting the loser who’d taken his friend. He didn’t sleep, afraid that Janelle’s face would haunt him. The way she’d looked at him when he lifted her… Not as if to say, I’m dying, but it appeared she wanted to admit, I made a mistake. She’d actually looked guilty for dying. Maybe because of Kristina, because now she wouldn’t be able to give her what she’d wanted to give her. Janelle had given up what should have been some of the best years of her life to take care of Kristina, and now she was gone. Derrick shook his head at the senselessness of it all.

  When his father called, he wanted to ignore him, but knew he had to answer. He just wanted to leave Boston, leave his family. Just go somewhere and be alone, but then, he really would suffer. He had to keep his mind busy, and he needed to find Janelle’s murderer.

  Derrick sat motionless beside the council, his head in his hands while he listened to the family shout back and forth over Kristina’s fate.

  “Let me make myself clear,” his father said in a deep and commanding voice, one Derrick hadn’t heard in years. “This session is not about whether or not Kristina Heskin dies. We are not in the business of killing eight-year-old girls. This hearing is about Derrick and the part he played. We will deal with the repercussions of his actions if there are any, but we can’t be sure if she saw anything, and even if she did, it’s not the girl’s fault. Understood?”

  Murmurs of disagreement and approval rumbled through the room. Derrick heard nothing but the low drone, as if he was inside a wasps’ nest. His skin felt like it too. Every fiber in his core ached, and he hadn’t slept for days.

  “This will be a democratic vote. Simply cast a ‘yes’, meaning Derrick stays or a ‘no’ meaning he forfeits his position as overseer. A blank ballot means you waive your vote.” After everyone wrote down a decision, his father passed around the box. Derrick didn’t really care, but as overseer, at least his mind would stay occupied.

  Dean read off the votes as Matthew wrote them down. Derrick didn’t bother keeping track. It was as fair as a system could get. One person collected, another called off, while both watched the third man write down the information.

  “It’s a seventy-thirty split,” Matthew announced, “and the ayes have it. Derrick remains overseer.”

  Derrick exhaled, but again, he wasn’t sure that this outcome actually made him happy. It did tell him one thing; his kind were hopeless romantics. Almost all of them understood his need to protect Janelle. If he had to guess, he’d say that the thirty percentile were probably the younger members of the group, the ones who’d not fallen yet. No, he hadn’t fallen for Janelle, but he’d felt it in his head and his heart.

  “Meeting adjourned,” Lyn said, walking over to him. “I need you here for a little while today. Your mother wants to talk to you after everyone leaves.”

  Derrick nodded and caught Tori’s gaze out of the corner of his eye. She didn’t stay, though. The moment he caught
her looking, she fled.

  Dean approached him. “She’s hurt. It’s not that she hates humans, nor do I, in general. But neither of us can forget that an inebriated human took her mother from us. My sister was a great woman; she didn’t deserve to die, and still, everywhere I go—every restaurant, every bar, the mall, for God’s sake—serves alcohol. The consumers aren’t calling taxis, and they aren’t just drinking two drinks either. So, she’s a little upset that you’d befriend a human and put us all in danger.”

  “Janelle’s parents died in an accident caused by a drunk driver too. Should she have hated every human because of him?”

  “I don’t know, Derrick. I just know that I lost my sister way too early in life, and Tori lost her mother. And she might as well have lost her father too. He’s nothing without the love of his life; you know that.”

  Derrick didn’t bother to comment. He did know that. He hadn’t even fallen, and he felt as though he didn’t want to go on without Janelle.

  Dean leaned toward him. “I still voted for you to stay, though. I still think you’re the best man for the job.”

  “Thanks, Dean. That means a lot to me, and I’m sorry. I never meant to hurt Tori.”

  “She’ll get over it. All women do eventually.” He slapped him on the back. “Okay. I’ll see you next week.”

  Derrick waited for his father. They stood outside until everyone left, including Tori, without saying goodbye. He felt bad, but he felt bad for her, not him. He didn’t have enough strength to hurt because she was upset at him. She didn’t understand how he felt about Janelle, and he could never explain how much he cared, as that’d only hurt her more.

  He followed his father into the house. His mother was waiting. She never came to the meetings. The family had asked that she didn’t years ago. He guessed as overseer he could change that, but she didn’t seem upset by it.

  She wrapped her arms around him. “I’m so sorry, honey. I wish there was something I could say that would make it all go away, but I know I can’t.”

  His mother knew pain, so he could accept her condolences as genuine. If she could heal, so could he. Sabrina backed away and took the seat next to his father.

  “Where’s Michael?” Derrick assumed if they were having a family meeting that he’d be here.

  “I asked him to stay away. This doesn’t concern him. This doesn’t concern anyone but us and Kristina Heskin.”

  Derrick soared out of his seat. “Dad! Not you too. I thought—”

  “Derrick,” his father spoke softly, “you really need to control your outbursts. It isn’t becoming of a leader to lose his temper.”

  Derrick nodded. His father was right; he was always right. But…

  “Michael told me that Kristina saw you, is that correct?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “Derrick, I won’t warn you again. You’re a grown man. You need to start acting like one.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Your mother and I have discussed this and spoke with your uncle about the legal issues, and we’d like to adopt her.”

  Derrick shook his head in disbelief. First that they were willing to accept Kristina into their lives, but second, no, he didn’t want that. It wouldn’t be fair. She shouldn’t have to live with their secret. “No. I’ll watch her.”

  His father narrowed his eyes.

  “Not in that way. I’ll just listen…make sure she didn’t see anything, make sure she doesn’t talk. If she does, then yes, we can pursue this option, but I’d rather give her a chance at a normal human life. It’s what Janelle wanted.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Yes.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  It’d been months, and Kristina hadn’t mentioned a word, so Derrick was confident she wouldn’t. He couldn’t understand it, though. Weren’t all children inquisitive? She’d said ‘Dark Angel’, so it was clear she’d sensed that he didn’t just stroll up behind her. Why wouldn’t she be telling everyone?

  Today would have been his last day until he found out she was being transferred to a foster home. He drove to the home, which was only about three miles from Boston. The neighborhood where the home sat had beautifully manicured patches of green around stately homes, most of which had been converted into duplexes and apartments. The home itself was a three-story, plain rectangular building with a basement. According to the records he’d pulled up, it housed up to sixteen children ages eight to fifteen, so Kristina would be the youngest. He didn’t like the idea of her being with fifteen-year-old juveniles with issues; most of the adolescents weren’t in homes because their parents had died. Many were unwanted or came from abusive homes, behaviors that the youths would likely imitate. The home did offer psychiatric services, so at least she’d get help in coping with Janelle’s death.

  The other thing he didn’t like was the neighborhood surrounding the home. Even the home itself had bars on the first floor windows of the building. He was certain they weren’t there to keep the children inside, but to keep the riffraff out.

  The high school was down the street, another sure sign that it wasn’t the safest area. The government tended to build schools in areas where the property values were the cheapest.

  Parking down the street, he waited until she arrived and was shown her room. He honed in on her quiet voice, listening as she nervously greeted her roommates, and then later cried herself to sleep.

  His heart pained for her. Would it be better to allow his parents to adopt her? He’d always been happy. His family was wonderful. They also lived in the country. She’d like that.

  No, he couldn’t destine her to live with a family where only his parents would accept her. She’d never fit in, and it was possible that one of the younger members of his larger family would hurt her. Not purposely, of course, but they often didn’t know their own strength.

  Derrick drove back to the clinic and tried to move on with his life. He’d check in from time to time, but he had to let her live her life. He couldn’t chance her seeing him again and recognizing him.

  The weeks passed, and although he tried not to check in on Kristina, he continued to drive by the home. He typically just parked down the block and worked on his homework while he got a feel for how she was progressing in her new home. It was the one thing Janelle had wanted, for her to have a better life.

  The child, who’d been soft spoken and joyful from the first night he’d seen her with Janelle, had already started turning into a sullen girl. It wasn’t because of the adults who ran the house; it was the other children. As suspected, Kristina was too young and sweet to be with a houseful of older children. Her petite stature and platinum hair made her look like a princess, among the older, larger students.

  At first, they just asked her for details of how her mother was murdered, but then they started asking about her father. Kristina deflected the questions, ignoring most of them, and tried to disappear into drawing.

  “What’s this?” Derrick heard a shrill voice and a snap of paper.

  “Give that back!” Kristina shrieked.

  The older girl laughed. “You think an angel is going to save you. God didn’t save your mother. Why would he save you?”

  So Kristina had drawn a picture of an angel saving her. That wasn’t good. Had she seen his face? Was she good enough to capture his image?

  A loud crack cut through his thoughts. “I said, give me that!”

  Screams shredded the air, but they weren’t from Kristina. “The new girl hit me!” the girl shouted, her feet thumping against the wood floor of the old building.

  “Let me see. What did she hit you with?” an older woman asked in a calm, controlled voice. Derrick had researched the women who ran the house. They were all clean, no records.

  “I don’t know, but there’s a lump on the back of my head.”

  “Kristina,” the woman called.

  More footsteps. “Yes, ma’am,” Kristina’s soft voice.

  “Did you hit Camina?”

&nb
sp; “Yes, ma’am.”

  “We don’t hit others. You know that. This is your only warning. If you hit anyone again, you will be sent away. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Go on up to your room. You will have extra chores for a week.”

  Kristina walked off without a word, and Derrick couldn’t help but smile. Maybe she’d do all right. He couldn’t imagine the sweet little girl he’d seen with Janelle hitting anyone, but the other kids had done nothing but pick on her from the day she’d arrived.

  The next day, Derrick decided to show up after school. The older girls may know better than to hit one another in the house, but that wouldn’t keep them from retaliation on the walk home from school.

  He saw a gang of kids up ahead and parked his vehicle along the road and hopped out. A cluster of students circled another group. This wasn’t good.

  He jogged up, listening to the insults.

  “At least we know who’re daddy is. At least I gotta momma.”

  Whoever was in the middle of the group was on the ground as the girls kicked.

  “Hey!” Derrick called, and the crowd broke up and started to run. All except the one girl who lay on the ground, her hands covering her face—Kristina.

  He stooped over her. Her dirt-covered face had white lines down the sides where her tears had streaked through the black and brown smudges. Her eyes were swollen shut, so she couldn’t see him as he picked her up and pulled her to his chest. “I’m sorry,” he couldn’t help but say, so she’d know someone cared. “You’ll be okay.”

  He carried her to the home and set her on the front porch. He rang the bell, then disappeared around the side.

  “Kristina, oh my Lord, child,” the woman shrieked, “Call 9-1-1, Gail!”

  Another set of feet ran across the house.

  The next day, Derrick listened as the other girls claimed that Kristina had started the fight, and so she was shipped off to the next home.