Blood Stained Read Free

Mudvayne came on with "Scream with Me."
    As Lucy swerved between sedate, carefree drivers oblivious to her need, she followed the title's command. One ear-splitting release of noise before silencing the radio with a stab of her finger.
    If only Plushenko's lawyer could see her now.
     
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    Somehow Lucy made it to the soccer field without crashing. She climbed out of the car and waved to the officer waiting in the police cruiser. He nodded, flashed his lights, and took off to return to his duties. 
    She hugged herself against the cold. Her parka was unzipped and beneath it she wore her "court" suit: navy skirt and jacket and black pumps that sank into the soggy gravel of the parking lot. The week after Thanksgiving and it had already snowed twice in Pittsburgh, leaving slushy mounds to ambush unsuspecting pedestrians. Thick clouds, heavy as steel, pressed down against the waning sunlight, trying to squeeze the life out of the city, promising more snow to come.
    Happy squeals came from the soccer field where kids in colorful uniforms chased a ball covered in mud. The other parents lined up beneath bright golf umbrellas along the sidelines, clapping and cheering despite the weather. These were the top players in this age range invited for a special intersession all-star skills camp and their parents were the district's top soccer moms and dads.
    Lucy didn't join them. She didn't have an umbrella. She needed both hands free. She didn't raise her hood. Too restrictive. Cut off her peripheral vision. Resting one hand on the gun at her hip, she remained behind the crowd at her car. From there she could keep Megan in sight, target the crowd as well, plus the car provided cover and escape.
    A whistle blew. Lucy jerked upright, hand falling to her Glock. 
    Hyper-vigilant, Nick had diagnosed her. Normal after almost dying two months ago, after seeing her daughter placed in harm's way. As if there could be anything normal about that.
    Megan vanished from sight as two fathers arguing about the Steelers' offensive line blocked Lucy's view. Her heart skidded, lurching into overdrive, pounding louder than the sleet drumming against the car roof. She ran two steps forward. Hands. She needed to see all of their hands, even as she scanned for Megan. 
    It wasn't until the whistle blew again and she spotted Megan's form bobbing through the crowd of players that she realized she'd drawn her gun.
    Tears streaked warm down her chilled cheeks, a counterpoint to the embarrassment and fear flooding her. She hadn't raised her gun, hadn't pointed it at anyone. But that didn't matter. Her emotions overpowered her training. 
    Thankfully the rest of the crowd remained focused on the players. Lucy turned away, needing both trembling hands to re-holster her weapon. Nausea left her mouth dry and skin clammy. Leaning against the car, she focused on the not-so-simple act of breathing, tried to force back her panic.
    It never left. Never entirely. Not since September. But she could control it. 
    She had to. If she let herself fall apart, who would protect her family?
     
     

Chapter 2
     
     
    Adam Caine got off the Greyhound in New Hope, PA with seventeen cents in his pocket. He wore everything he owned: ragged tennis shoes with a hole in one toe and a broken lace, jeans, a t-shirt, flannel shirt, Penn State sweatshirt with a rip in the hem, and his father's oversized denim jacket. He was fourteen, hungry, cold, and his home was no longer his.
    The bus stop was the curb in front of Thomson's Hardware. There was no depot. If you were lucky enough to be leaving New Hope, "No Hope," the kids called it when Adam was young, you bought your ticket from the clerk inside the Safeway at the other end of the parking lot.
    No hope of Adam leaving anytime soon. But that was okay. It was nice to be back. He'd spent the past eight months on his own, foraging for food, standing up to street bullies. Kids as alone and scared as himself, psych patients left to fend