“I’m Brett. Brett Waterman.”
As he introduces himself to Violet, I notice his eyes linger on Theo, then they rise to nod at Demon. Seems something about her having a young child has reassured him.
Prez notices. “Well come this way, Brett. Vi will make sure your wife and daughter are looked after, while I catch you up on what you need to know.”
Vi, with Theo toddling along beside her, approaches his wife, Maisie, tapping on her arm to get her attention. Then she gesticulates in our direction, then toward Demon’s office, clearly telling her where we’re taking her man, reassuring her he won’t go far.
Brett relaxes slightly, but his face becomes tight as Demon raises his chin toward me. “Join us, Liz?”
Why me? Because I’m the one who started this. If I’d simply refused to cover a ‘Property of’ patch, we’d never have found Esme.
I sigh and taking out my phone, send off a short text warning Jonah I probably won’t make it to the shop today, then follow Demon and Esme’s dad.
As soon as we’re behind the closed door, Brett asks even before sitting down, “Where’s she been? How did she come to be with you?” His eyes narrow. “Did you take her? Did you have anything to do with her disappearance?”
“I told you on the phone, we discovered her only a few days back. Kept her safe while trying to find out who she was.”
Brett’s eyes focus on Demon’s, then after a moment, he gives a slow nod. “Sometimes words settle better when you can see the man who’s uttering them.” He pulls out the chair, and at last, sits. “Esme means the world to me, Mr Black. I…” he pauses to wipe moisture that’s again leaked from his eyes with no embarrassment. “I still can’t believe she’s out there with Maisie. I…”
Demon pushes the jug of water toward him, along with a glass. “If I could spare you this, I would, Brett.”
“Give it to me, Mr Black. Tell me what I’m dealing with.”
Prez gives him a moment to wet his throat. When Brett replaces the glass on the desk, Demon waves in my direction. “This is Lizard. He runs our tattoo parlour. Best we start from the beginning and tell you how Esme came to be with us.”
Then, with a deep sigh, Prez starts talking. As he does so, he identifies the part I played as the man who first raised suspicions about a woman with a ‘Property of’ tattoo.
I’ve seen Mace use torture before to break men, but I’ve never seen a man so hurt and destroyed by mental pain. When Demon mentions Esme’s tattoo and the significance, he’s openly crying, weeping into his hands. Demon and I give him some time to get his grief under control. Brett goes up in my estimation as slowly he fights for that inner strength inside him.
When at last he stops sobbing, Demon emphasises, “She wasn’t molested, Brett. The woman who helped her escape got her out in time, but she will need therapy. She’s not even talking. How much she knows of what might have happened, no one can tell.”
“Oh, she’s said a couple of words,” I correct, trying to lighten things up and give him some hope. “She tells people to pay up.” Or at least, she has me and Mace.
“Pay up?” Brett’s eyes narrow suspiciously.
Demon chuckles. “We’ve been trying not to swear around her. If we do—and we fuck up a lot—we give her a dollar. There are two fuckin’ swear jars out on the bar, probably close to overflowing by now.”
Which he now owes two dollars to, but I hold my tongue, thinking it’s probably best not to point that out.
Brett tries to process this information. “You’re saying you’ve been trying to make her more comfortable around you? Fuck, she must hate men now. I don’t know what to do, Mr Black. She’s already damaged. I don’t know where to start getting the help that she needs. What do I do?” It’s a rhetorical question which he doesn’t expect us to answer, I can already see wheels turning.
“Why’s she the way she is? Has she got some kind of condition?” I ask.
Now Esme’s father’s eyes harden. “She wasn’t born this way. We had been given the gift of a beautiful, healthy baby girl, and we wanted to bring her up and help her thrive the best we could. She was normal, if you want to term it that. Trouble was, there’s a history of congenital immune system problems in her mom’s family. We were advised that Esme shouldn’t be vaccinated because of that history, that there was a risk if we did, that she’d have health problems. We wanted to do the best for our girl, so took the doctor’s advice. He said the incidence of her catching something was low to non-existent, as the US was mostly clear of mumps and measles.”
“She caught something?” Demon’s face has gone dark.
“Seemed a couple of the parents at her playgroup were anti-vaxxers. Of course, we didn’t know, and it still shouldn’t have been a problem, but one of the kids brought something back from a visit to see Mickey Mouse, and it wasn’t a toy. It was a virus which was passed onto Esme. She was three years old when she caught measles.” His brow creases in remembered pain. “Measles. Such a simple word, yet no one understands just how devastating the complications can be. Esme’s brain swelled. We were warned we could lose her. As it was, we had to watch while she was having convulsion after convulsion. I wouldn’t wish that on any parent. She lived, and I thank God for that every day. But it left her disabled intellectually.” His eyes rise to Demon’s. “You’ve got kids, for heaven’s sake vaccinate them. For the sake of kids like Esme, if not for themselves. Esme was fine before she got ill. After…” he waves his hands as though there are no words to describe it.
Jeez. Never having had kids, I hadn’t come down on one side or the other of the vaccination argument, but hearing Brett? Must admit, I didn’t realise how what I thought was a simple childhood disease could have such disastrous consequences.
My eyes rise to Demon’s who confirms, “Theo has been vaccinated and any other babies we have will also be.”
“What happened didn’t change how we felt about her. She’s everything to me,” Brett says sincerely, challenging us to say Esme’s worth any less than anyone else. “Damn near broke both of us when she went missing. It’s only hope that she was out there somewhere and would be home one day that kept us putting one foot in front of the other. We never gave up searching, even when the police stopped actively looking. We haven’t any other children, not because we’d be taking the same risk, but because we made a conscious decision to ensure she was the centre of our universe. She’s special in so many ways. Happy, chatty…” he stops when he realises she’s not talking now.
“She’s fuckin’ talented. My brother’s currently having one of her drawings painted on his gas tank,” I tell him.
“She can draw,” Brett agrees. He looks from me to Demon. “Art is the way she expresses herself. Is the woman who rescued her here? I’d like to thank her. I owe her so much.”
Prez shakes his head. “No. She wanted to keep moving, she’s worried about Major tracking her down and taking her back with him. She left Esme in our care. We’ve several old ladies here who’ve been caring for her. My wife, for one, as you saw just now.”