Chapter 1
In memory of KAIRI MAES BENJAMIN, An angel too soon
The stock car race we’d hoped to watch on TV had been rained out, but the football game we’d chosen to replace it with wasn’t going anywhere, either. The Raiders and Chiefs had spent the first half of the game finding new and astounding ways of failing to put up any points and seemed focused instead on helping the opposing team score. Less than 30 seconds remained before halftime and with a score of 0-0, both teams were flopping just as miserably in their charitable efforts of the other.
Judging by the few highlights from other games the network had slipped into our broadcast, it appeared to be a pretty boring day in NFL-land. Greer had already faded back into slumber beside me and I was about to mute the TV and skip the halftime reports to make my own early entrance into a third-quarter nap when a gentle knock sounded at my apartment door.
My reflexive response to such unexpected Sunday morning knocking is to turn my head enough to check the time; 11:22 AM, in this case. Greer’s reflexive response is to come fully awake and throw back the blanket while reaching for her Glock on the bedside. Every time.
“You want back-up there, agent?” I asked.
My lovely blonde work/life partner stopped short at the foot of the bed and came back to the present.
“I did it again, didn’t I?” she sighed, her shoulders drooping.
“Yeah,” I chuckled. “Although it doesn’t startle me much like it used to. Especially since your stranding there naked with your gun drawn goes a long way to cocking my own pistol.”
The knocking at the door was repeated and I threw Greer my t-shirt. She opted instead for my robe, tying the belt as she stormed from the bedroom. I heard the door open and a child’s voice inquire: “Is this the home of Jason Hayward?”
“Hayward!” Greer snapped.
Since she had taken my robe I was forced to quickly work myself into jeans to maintain my own modesty. I stepped from the bedroom and through the kitchen where Greer stood in the open doorway. Not budging, she turned toward me, eyes hard and her face twisted in confusion. Cocking her head, she snarled, “You wouldn’t happen to owe child support to anyone, would you?”
I did a quick mental review. I couldn’t imagine having fathered a child, but I had to acknowledge the blur in my life of some years before. Still…
Taking the handle from Greer’s hand my heart rate ramped up as I opened the door wider, revealing a girl of maybe 11 or 12 years old, an age that, if my assumptions were correct, would have had me around 16 years old at the time of the young lady’s birth. She had huge green eyes and was clad in a cute pink dress that seemed a little light for the late fall weather. I found myself oddly relieved when I noted her hair was more Greer blonde than Hayward brown, although I might have preferred she be dressed as a Girl Scout and accompanied by boxes of Do-Si-Does.
“Can I… help you?” I ventured.
“Jason Hayward?” she asked eagerly.
“Yeah.”
A huge smile blossomed on her face.
“Bob sent me!”
