Vicious Cycle (Vicious Cycle #1)(11)
As I looked into Willow’s face, I couldn’t help thinking of Charlie. If he hadn’t been surrounded by loving, caring people, I don’t know what would have happened to him. Although it was strange and I didn’t understand it, Willow had bonded with me. Since she had already been through too much, I hated to break the bond.
I smiled at Willow. “You know, I have one spot left in my class. What would you think about going down to the office and seeing if you could be transferred to me?”
Willow’s dark eyes lit up with what looked like absolute pleasure. She glanced over her shoulder at Elizabeth with a pleading expression. After wiping the tears from her eyes, Elizabeth asked, “It won’t be too much trouble to do that?”
“Nope. No problem at all. It should just take a few seconds to change it in the computer.”
With a smile, Elizabeth said, “I think that would be a wonderful idea.”
Since that day, Willow had stuck close to my side whenever she was at school. As hard as I tried, I couldn’t seem to get her to make friends with any of the other children. Most of the little girls were put off by the fact she rarely talked. So instead of jabbering along with them, Willow liked to stay with me during recess, and sometimes she would refuse to go to the gym or to art. I never forced her. Instead, I just went about my usual routine during my off-time while Willow tagged along. Some teachers might have treated her differently and refused to give her any special attention. But my own tragic past made me empathize with Willow and her situation.
After speaking further with Elizabeth, I learned that Willow’s mother had been murdered right before her eyes. She had then come to live with her father, meeting him for the first time. Considering only a few months had passed, Willow was still desperately trying to acclimate herself to her new life. It would have been hard on an adult, but a five-year-old? It was almost impossible.
I was brought out of my thoughts by one of my students wiggling in his seat. “Miss Evans, can we go to the mat now?”
Laughing at his excitement, I nodded. “All right, let’s go work on the calendar.”
That afternoon, after I escorted all the second-load kids out to the bus lanes, I came back inside and went straight to my computer. Once I logged into the attendance program, I went to Willow’s name. Grabbing an apple-shaped notepad, I jotted down her address. I didn’t even bother with trying Elizabeth’s contact information. I wanted to go straight to the source. If I couldn’t reach her father by phone, then perhaps I was just going to have to track him down at his house.
I grabbed my messenger bag and purse and headed to my car. On the way, I typed the address into my GPS on my phone. It was another scorching late-September day in northern Georgia. The backs of my legs stung when I slid across the leather seat of my Accord.
After following the directions of the GPS’s monotone voice, I turned a few blocks and found myself in one of the seedier areas of town. Even though I hadn’t grown up here, Uncle Jimmy had made sure to always steer me clear of the area. He’d informed me that when the cotton mills had gone out of business in the late eighties, the area had rapidly declined. Crime rates had risen with the unemployment, and it was now inhabited by transient workers and the local motorcycle gang that I had seen from time to time on the road.
When I pulled up to a gun store and pawnshop, I glanced down at my phone to double-check that this was actually Willow’s address. Then I grabbed the Post-it note out of my purse to make sure I hadn’t entered it into my phone wrong. I couldn’t help feeling surprised that I was in the right place. Peering through the windshield, I could see that a shop had been made out of part of the old cotton mill. Next to it was the old mill’s office, which appeared to have been converted into some sort of roadhouse or bar.
Unease filled me the moment I shut the car door. Two men in biker boots and leather leaned against the wall of the pawnshop. With a forced determination, I pushed myself forward on shaky legs. As I approached the men, I could feel their heated gaze burning through me, singeing my cotton sundress as they stripped me down with their eyes. A shudder of repulsion ran through me, making me feel dirty and used.
When I met their hooded gazes, I plastered a smile on my lips. “Hello,” I said softly. As I reached for the door of the pawnshop, one of the men stepped in front of me. I couldn’t help jumping back, my hand flying to my mouth to stifle a scream. He cocked his brows at me as he held open the door like a proper gentleman.
Embarrassment flooded my cheeks at my over-the-top reaction. “Thank you. You’re very kind,” I said as I hesitantly squeezed past his body into the shop. My heels clacked along the floor, and I nervously fidgeted with the strap on my messenger bag. As I glanced left and right, I didn’t see anyone behind the counter. “Hello?” I called.
A black curtain was shoved aside, and a tall, hulking man stepped out. Regardless of his enormous size, the kind expression on his very handsome face immediately put me at ease. “May I help you?”
Extending my hand, I said, “I’m Alexandra Evans. I’m looking for David Malloy.”
Instead of shaking my hand, the man crossed his arms over his chest and cocked his head at me. “What do you need with him?”
Something about the man’s guarded tone made me uneasy. “I … uh, his daughter, Willow, is in my kindergarten class. She’s missed a lot of days of school, and I was worried.”