Forbidden With Me - Leigh Lennon Page 0,1
again. “Help me! Help me!”
Crossing the door frame into a larger foyer, I turn my head to the sizable room that houses a table with three bodies, one on the floor, her throat cut from one end to the other. The age of the girl, and the height has my race pulsing, thinking it’s Jules Montgomery. Running to her first, the hair is jet black, and Matt’s sister’s is blonde. Upon further inspection, this girl is younger, maybe fifteen. At the table, a young male, maybe twelve, lies face down, the same injury as before. Across from him is an adult female, maybe in her forties, sitting like the little boy.
The pleas continue, but I inspect the dining room, clearing it for other perps. It’s large, and with my flashlight, I believe they were sitting down for dinner. Milk is spilled, combined with blood, and the plates are stacked up on one end with a large casserole dish next to the mother.
Following the cries for help, I head through an open door to the back of the dining room as I finish clearing this space—my goal to make it to the sweet voice. “Mommy, Daddy.” It’s all the voice calls for. He or she seems to be younger, maybe under ten, but I can’t place if it’s a boy or girl. “Mommy, Daddy,” the child cries again, and I continue deeper, looking for both the young child and the dad he or she is calling for.
An oversized island in the kitchen separates the space, but in front of me is an adult male, the same age as the adult female. He lies face up with stab wounds in his stomach and chest. I guess this is the dad, and I estimate he has at least twenty puncture wounds. I have to sidestep the broken plates as glass and blood have been strewn throughout the entire space.
“Mommy, Daddy, Gracie, Cabe, Annie.” She’s telling me how many are in the house, and I’m still attempting to find the voice, as I clear the room, looking at the possibility of one more body.
Moving around the kitchen island, I make it farther to the back of this suburban home. The voice draws me closer and closer. A small door sits next to the refrigerator. “Mommy, please!” She draws her screams out. I’m almost positive this voice belongs to one scared little girl.
Out of the corner of my eyes, a small advance has me drawing my gun. Matt is instantly in front of me, his eyes focused on the voice behind us. “Jules?” he asks. With a quick shake of my head, the stiff muscles of his jaw relax. “I found the seventeen-year-old, Annie, in the sun room. Choked to death with no pulse.” I can hear Matt’s information, but in his low whisper, the child behind us can’t. He stands near the steps in the middle of the kitchen, clearing the stairs as I continue to look for the girl. I point at the door, indicating to my partner what I’m about to do. With Matt having both the stairs and my back, I twist my body around and holster my weapon.
I tug the small pantry door, only able to house a little child, and she instantly lurches at me. I didn’t have to say I’m a policeman. “My mommy? My daddy?”
“Hey, sweetie, I’m Wells. And you know Matt, right?”
Her cries stop, peering up at him. She gives me a slight nod at my question and begins to speak. “Jules’s brother, right?” she asks, and her sniffles are loud. With my body, I shield her from her dad’s corpse.
“You’ve been so brave, sweetie,” I begin, and in her deep brown eyes, tears flooding them, she stares at me.
“I’m Malia.” Her voice is hoarse, and she wipes at her nose. It’s then I notice with just Matt’s flashlight that she has no blood on her hands, and I hope she’s not been witness to her family’s deaths.
“Okay, Malia, could you do me a favor? I’m going to take you outside, and I need you to bury your face in my shoulder and close your eyes. Do you understand me?”
My eyes connect with Matt when he mouths, just loud enough for me to hear, “She’s only nine.” My heart lurches and I can barely keep down the sub sandwich I’d had eaten right before this call.
“I want my mommy.” Her sobs begin to water her wet cheeks again.
“I know, sweetie, I’ve got you.” I won’t promise