13. Khadri “Moros” Weston

13

KHADRI "MOROS" WESTON

We landed in Jamaica to some bad news. The night before, Theodore had fallen and broken his hip and would be in the hospital for a little while. The doctors wanted to ensure it began healing properly before letting him go home.

Ryanne and I agreed to wait a little before we walked in on their lives.

While waiting, I wanted nothing more than to see her in that bikini—to sit back and pretend all she held about her, her body were mine.

But she hadn't been doing well.

She was anxious and I gave her space.

As much as my body wanted to feel her again, I kept that to myself because I understood this moment was huge for her. She'd gone her entire life believing she was alone in the world.

Now she found out she hadn't been alone, they more or less just didn't want her.

I wasn't sure which thought would hurt her more. The first night I tried holding her. While she said nothing, she shrugged away from me and had taken to sleeping at the very edge of the bed.

As a man, I was confused as to what that meant but I knew one thing—she didn't like me being with her at nights.

The third night, I found blankets in the linen closet of the house Tex had rented and left them on the sofa in the office while I went for a run.

During the days, the temperature had been entirely too hot to do much of anything. When the sun was high in the sky, it felt as if my skin was melting from my bones.

It was a different kind of heat.

I spent the first few days working with Tex on her case and with Boss who was overseeing the work on demolishing what was left of Musk.

I had an architect working on proposals for the new bar, all the while fielding calls from the insurance company.

The work kept me busy and kept me from pressuring her into talking, opening up to me.

And after a few attempts of getting her to open up, I decided it was best to leave her with her demons.

After my run, I returned to Ryanne making dinner. I went to shower and once I was dressed, I fielded a call from Tex.

"Well, he's out." Tex told me. "Maybe you can go see him tomorrow?"

I agreed and after receiving location information, I hung up, plugged the phone to charge then made my way into the kitchen.

"We can visit them tomorrow," I said from the door. "That will give him two days out of the hospital."

"Mm." She barely answered. "Dinner is almost ready."

"I'm not hungry." I told her and turned to leave.

"I'm sorry."

Though I paused my retreat, I didn't face her, nor did I speak. Instead, I continued back to the office, closed the door and sat with my laptop. Thankfully the architect had sent me some of the designs he'd created.

I liked the second one best even though it was a thousand square footage smaller than the last version of Musk. The capacity would be less, but I didn't see much of a difference in the money I would make in the place.

I emailed the designer back, telling him I'd give him an answer in a few days, then closed down the laptop to rub my eyes.

When I woke up from a nap, it was dark outside. I left the house through a side door to wander the property—old habit when I was on duty.

By the time I returned, it was well after ten and it was pitch black outside. I stood in the backyard, staring out in the direction of the water, watching the way the golden moon shimmered off the waves. The air was permeating by the smell of the ocean and each lungful of breath left me feeling lighter and lighter until it was as if I'd float away.

I wouldn't mind floating away.

I returned to the house to find Ryanne in the kitchen sipping from a mug.

"Are you coming to bed?" She asked without looking at me.

I said nothing.

It was on purpose—I needed her to look at me and ask me that question again. When she was forced to lift her head, her eyes shimmered with an emotion I wasn't familiar with.

"No." I replied. "No, I'm good with where I'm at right now. You take the bed."

"I'm sorry."

"Stop—stop saying that." I held up a hand to give her pause. "I was a moment of weakness for you. I get it. There's no need to be sorry or make things weird because this kind of thing happens all the time. We're both adults here. You should get some sleep. We have a long drive ahead of us."

"Khadri—"

"Ryanne." I grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and walked by her. "I'm giving you an out—take it."

I didn't give her a chance to speak—I left and closed myself off in the den again.

But this time, I didn't sleep.

I remained awake all night and was dressed and ready to go before the sun was fully up. While I waited, I made the coffee and breakfast, then carried a small cooler filled with ice and bottles of water to the SUV.

Ryanne made an appearance as I was sitting down to eat.

"Good morning," she said.

"Morning."

I rose to make her a plate, but she declined and did it herself. Texting back and forth with Boss about the designs, he too preferred design number two. And since there was no need to keep wasting time with the decision off to the designer.

Tex called and though I didn't want to focus on anything in that moment, I answered the call on speaker.

"Okay—so, here's what I got on Morgana and Theodore." Tex went down to business as he had to go out with Wolf. "Theodore is a retired schoolteacher. Taught Biology for thirty-five years. Retired two years ago. Morgana personal chef for twenty years until her business crashed. She began working as school counsellor."

"That's a change in careers." Ryanne pointed out.

"Yeah—she went to school for the training but loved cooking more." Tex explained. "There's an interview with her for the local paper when she switched to counseling. I'll send it to Moros' phone so you can read it. They're not rich people but they've done well for themselves."

"What about my father?"

"Right," Tex said. "He was born on the island and at around nineteen he moved to Canada. He entered the country on a student visa and then just didn't leave."

"So, he had no status?" She asked.

"He does—or rather, did." Tex replied. "He didn't for a while in between the time the student permit expired and the time he received his citizenship. The thing is, usually with Canada, you go from your temporary visa to what you call a Permanent Resident. That gives you most of the rights of a citizen, but it expires and you can't hold office or vote."

"Makes sense." I murmured.

"He never got that." Tex told us.

"What do you mean?" Ryanne wanted to know. "If that's a requirement for citizenship?—"

"Did he apply to be a refugee?" I asked.

"No." Tex replied. "He just went student, to nothing to citizen. I'm still trying to figure out how he scored that, but so far nothing. He wasn't even in the country long enough to be considered for PR before he was sworn in."

I massaged my temple.

"I hate to say it," I said. "But it seems your father either had some connection we can't find or he made a deal with the devil."

"What's the difference?" Ryanne tilted her head.

"Maybe nothing." I looked away from her. "Maybe everything."

"I'll keep working." Tex promised. "You two should get on the road. I'm sorry I couldn't get you guys a place closer. But I didn't want you in too deep where my people couldn't get to you if you needed backup. Moros, you loaded?"

"Always."

"Let me know if you need anything else."

I assured him I would and after he was gone, I carried my plate and mug to the sink the wandered off to the den to gather a few things. Once I had my bag strapped over a shoulder, I joined Ryanne in the outer hall where she waited for me.

We climbed into the SUV and set out on our way. I ensured the AC was on and while I didn't turn on the radio, I stuck an earpiece into my ear and tapped the side of it. If anything was to happen, Tex would be able to locate us with the help of the earpiece communicating with a satellite way overhead.

I didn't know how he got access to that—I would never ask.

Some things I just didn't need to know.

Ryanne and I barely said two words to each other. Even when we stopped for gas and bathroom breaks.

We rolled into Lawrence Tavern just after lunch and the GPS went dark. That meant the area we were heading in hadn't been mapped yet. I called Tex to be our map and soon I was rolling to a stop in front of a white gate that seemed as if it had seen better days.

I was opening my door when Ryanne caught my arm. I looked at her.

"Can you give me a second?" She wanted to know.

I sighed, but rested back in my seat.

When she was ready, she preceded me from the vehicle, and we walked up to the gate. On the side of one of the walls, I noticed a buzzer and I pressed it.

Time passed.

Birds chirped from nearby trees.

A momentary whisp of cool air circled us, followed by the dull hum of a woodpecker going at a tree.

I was about to press the buzzer again when a voice answered.

"My name is Khadri Weston." I explained. "I'm here to see Morgana and Theodore Larwick."

"Do we know you?" She asked.

"Um—no, ma'am." I paused. "But I knew your son."

"Hold on." She told me.

Soon, the front door opened, and a dark-skinned woman, leaning heavily on a cane came hobbling toward us. The closer she got I could tell she recognized Ryanne immediately. By the time she reached the gate, tears were rolling down her cheeks and her hands were shaking so badly, she could barely get the gate unlocked.

The keys fell from her hands and clattered to the ground.

I reached through the bars to get it.

"Can you show me which key it is?" I asked her, my voice soft.

Nodding, she reached through to single out the key I needed, and I stuck my arms in to unlock the gate. The moment it was opened, it was almost like I didn't exist. She only had eyes for Ryanne—touching her cheek with a tender fingertip, stroking across her shoulders, hugging her and sobbing.

"Do you know who I am?" Ryanne asked.

"Of course—but how can you be here?" Morgana asked, fear filling her tear-filled gaze., "You're dead!"

Well shit.

That escalated.

"Come inside." Morgana told us. "Please, relock the gate."

Doing as she told me, I jogged to catch up to them. We removed our shoes and followed her further into the house where Theodore was craning his neck from where he was seated in a specialized seat to accommodate his injury.

"Teddy?" Morgana called. "Look who it is."

She stepped out of the way and the look on the old man's face was one of a person who was staring a ghost.

"You're—" He panted.

"Dead?" Ryanne asked.

Theodore looked up at his wife. "How?"

"You must be thirsty and hungry from your trip." Morgana said. "Let me get something together and we can sit and talk."

The wait for her to return was a strange one. When Theodore wasn't staring at me, he was staring at Ryanne. I understood why the looks to me—I wasn't the kind of man a girl would ever take home to her parents or grandparents.

My look was harsh, and unexpected.

For Ryanne, they thought she was dead—that kind of made sense.

When Morgana returned, I helped her by taking the tray and setting it on the center table. And while I didn't touch the snacks, I accepted a drink, loaded with ice and sipped.

"Ginger beer." Morgana grinned sweetly at me. "What do you think?"

I enjoyed the harshness of the ginger.

"Perfect. I was worried I didn't add enough ginger," she said. "Buying the stuff is getting too expensive."

"You made this?" Ryanne who had been sipping contently at hers, asked.

Morgana nodded.

"I learned to from the internet." Morgana nodded.

"It's delicious," I said. "Thank you."

We enjoyed the calm before the storm for a little while, before we got down to talking about the massive purple elephant in the room.

"Your father wasn't supposed to stay in Canada." Morgana began. "Teddy and I knew the only way to get him a leg up in life, was to figure out how to move him abroad. So, we saved every penny we could and once he graduated high school, we got him his papers to study abroad."

"Everything was going well at first." Theodore picked up the story as Morgana was sobbing softly. "He would call, as agreed, every Saturday morning because long distance phone calls were expensive."

"This was before um—what do you young folks call it?" Morgana tapped the corners of her eyes with a piece of napkin. "WhatsApp?"

Ryanne and I nodded.

"Gana and I would make sure we were home to get his call." Theodore patted his wife's hand affectionately. "But after a couple of years, the calls became less frequent."

"Do you know why that was?" I asked.

"No." Theodore replied, his lips trembling. "At first, we thought it was because he was young—meeting people, meeting girls. But then we'd be lucky if we got one call every three weeks. We would complain but he made it feel as we were the problem."

"How so?" Ryanne stepped in.

"He never would explain what he was doing." Morgana answered. "Just that he was busy with school and a part-time job and that he thought we would understand. After a while we stopped pushing. We never wanted to pressure him. He was our son."

"Of course." I nodded as Morgana filled my glass again. "He was your son and you just wanted a bit of his time. There's nothing wrong with that."

"His calls became even less as the years rolled on—" Morgana paused again, her heart seemingly breaking again. "We'd be lucky if we got a call at Christmas."

"Then just after his intern with some bigshot started, he called and told us that he was married." Theodore scoffed. "We didn't know this woman. He never spoke to us about her, never offered for us to meet. He didn't even invite us to his wedding. It hurt—and before we had a chance to digest that information?—"

"He was telling us she was pregnant—five months." Morgana nodded.

"Wait—he married someone without his parents being there?" Ryanne was incredulous. "Who does something like that? Was it so he could get his citizenship?"

"We don't know," Morgana said, slurping through her straw. "He never told us anything. We've never even seen a picture of her. We found out about their deaths from a friend your father made while he was in Canada—he called us to inform us that Anne had just given birth and that Morrisey was driving home when the accident happened."

"He said all three of them were in the vehicle?" It was my turn to arch a brow at what I was hearing.

Both Morgana and Theodore nodded.

"He said no one made it." Morgana explained. "He sent us pictures of the accident. And because we didn't have our papers, we missed the burials."

Why would this friend lie?

"Um—I know this might be hard, but could we see those pictures?" I leaned in. "If you still have them."

"Sure." She tapped my cheek with a warm palm before leaving.

"It's scary how much you resemble your father," Theodore said, looking intently at Ryanne. "He had the same big, curious eyes. They were eyes that questioned everything without being able to hide that fact."

"I'm not sure if this is a good thing after what I just heard." She sighed. "I'm sorry he just took off—I don't know what to say."

"It's not your fault, child." He offered her a soft smile as Morgana shuffled into the room with an old, Royal Dansk cookie tin.

She placed it on the center table after I moved the tray out of the way, then lifted the lid to gently dig through the contents. Finding one of those old air mail white envelops with the red and blue lines along the edges, she lifted it out with a shaking hand and extended it to Ryanne.

I sat back and watched as she read the letter inside, then began slowly leafing through the pictures, handing them one by one to me as she looked at them.

"There aren't any pictures of a baby." I mused. "There isn't even a child seat."

"He said the baby was in very bad condition." Theodore explained. "That it was so bad, he was protecting us from having to see her like that. He said the fire department had to legal destroy the car seat since it was in an accident. Where have you been?"

"Um—" Ryanne looked over at me.

I reached over to hold her hand closest to me, squeezing in gently.

"They placed me in foster care." Ryanne told them. "Said they couldn't find a family for me?—"

"You were adopted, right?" Morgana pleaded.

"I'm sorry." Ryanne's voice cracked. "I wasn't adopted. I was born not breathing. And it seemed that was a bit of my life story they would tell everyone. They'd then be terrified, thinking I was cursed. So, they'd bring me back."

"What a load of shit." Morgana grumbled.

"Gana." Theodore called sweetly.

The elderly woman huffed.

"But I'm okay." Ryanne told them.

"I'm not understanding why your son's friend—this—" I looked at the letter. "This Paul Freeman, didn't tell them about you. It's obvious he had intimate details of the crime—some that aren't entirely true, but to get these pictures?—"

"We're now wondering the same thing." Theodore nodded. "Why did he lie? Why tell us our grandchild was dead when she wasn't. And from what you're saying, he knew she wasn't?—"

"He knew where she was." Morgana added. "Why break our hears like that?"

We were still throwing around conjectures when someone hollered for Morgana from the front door. It was obvious they were in the house and my back immediately went up.

"Military?" Theodore asked.

"What gave it away?" I asked, trying to smile.

Morgana left to greet the person.

"It's the way you react to sudden sounds." Theordore explained. "The way you sit with your body with easy access to the doors. The way you move between possible dangers and Ryanne's body. My father had that when I was a kid."

"Sorry." I managed.

"No need, son." Theodore smiled. "You did an honourable thing, an unselfish thing. Never let anyone make you apologize for that."

"Thanks…" I told him. "I mean that."

Morgana entered the space with a young man carrying a large duffle. He waved to us, but he couldn't seem to take his eyes off Ryanne.

"This is Todd Price." Morgana introduced him. "He's Teddy's live-in nurse until Teddy can move around a little. Todd, this is my granddaughter Ryanne and her special friend Khadri."

While Ryanne shook his hand, I ignored it.

He smiled too much.

He was entirely too handsome for his own fucking good.

I didn't like him.

Though I didn't want to, Morgana talked us into staying the night. Theodore and I talked about life and what had happened to Ryanne. Morgana spent time with her granddaughter while Todd lurked around the women.

Before I knew what was happening, Ryanne was off on a walk with this man.

"Why didn't you tell her you didn't want her to go?" Theordore asked from his seat on the back veranda as I tried seeing Ryanne and Todd along the beach.

"What?" I turned.

"It's obvious you don't like it she's off on some romantic walk with Todd." Theodore pointed out.

I smiled and shook my head.

After a sip from my drink, I met his dim brown eyes.

"She's not my woman." I reported. "I have no right to tell her what she can and can't do. My only job here is to make sure she's safe. Outside of that?—"

Theodore sighed.

"You suck at hiding your thoughts, Khadri." Theordore pointed out. "I've known you all of ten seconds and I can read you. Every time you think she's in pain you draw a little closer to her side, do you know that?"

I shook my head.

"You do." Theodore picked up a shortbread cookie and bit into it.

I excused myself under the premise to make a call before it grew too late but I wandered away from the house, trying to find a place to hide and scream. The need to unburden sat on my chest like a tank until my knees shook with the weight of it all.

As I rounded a bend, I found Ryanne sitting with Todd on a park bench. I backed up to hide my presence.

"You can't be serious." Todd was saying, his Jamaican accent rich. "The man has a face only a mother could love—be honest."

I waited for her to say something—anything.

"Almost like a face time forgot." Todd carried on.

Todd was referring to me.

And Ryanne said nothing.

It felt as if I'd been standing there for an eternity—for an infinite number of eternities, with time slowly tearing me apart.

Her silence?—

Lifting my chin, I squared my shoulders and stepped around what looked to be what was left of an old building, the concreate wall sand blasted after years of wind and storms.

I cleared my throat and Ryanne jerked to her feet when she saw me.

"I—" She began.

"Morgana would like you to know dinner is almost ready." I lied.

"Khadri—"

But I shook my head, turned and left.