Most Eligible Baby Daddy(33)

"Sheriff," Forrester called. "Sheriff, I'm awake."

The door opened and the sheriff came through to the jail, followed by the boys.

"Jesus, he looks like shit," Phil said.

Forrester looked at the sheriff. "That your boy?"

The sheriff nodded. "That's my boy."

Forrester faced the boy. "What's your name?"

"Phil," the boy said.

Forrester remembered beating him up. He remembered beating all four of them up, more than once.

"You were asking for it, the other day at the bar," Forrester said.

"We know," Phil said.

"That's why I had to put you down."

Phil nodded. Forrester turned to the other three.

"That's why I had to put all of you down. You were straight up asking  for it, hitting on those girls like that. They didn't want it. Any real  man would have done what I did."                       
       
           



       

The sheriff spoke up. "You hear that boys? Any man would have done what this here man did."

"We hear you," the boys said.

Forrester nodded. "Then, is one of you going to go get me a doctor? My ribs are broken."

Phil left with the boys. Forrester sat down on the bed and faced the sheriff.

"You about ready to let me out of this cell?" Forrester said.

The sheriff nodded. He inserted his key in the control panel and hit the  electronic lock. The door clanked open. Forrester nodded to the  sheriff.

"Thanks," he said.

"I owe you an apology, son."

"Yes you do," Forrester said.

The sheriff cleared his throat. "I misjudged you. The truth is, when I  heard who you were, whose son you were, I made up my mind about you  straight away."

"You thought I was trash."

"I did," the sheriff said.

Forrester nodded.

The sheriff went on. "And I thought that girl you were running around  with was trash too. When Gris told me who she was, her past and all, I  figured the best thing would be to separate the two of you."

"Separate us?"

The sheriff shrugged. "Gris came in, said you were bad news. Said you  were stealing his woman. I figured I was doing the right thing locking  you up for a little while to give him a chance to get her back."

"Does he have her now?" Forrester said, getting to his feet.

"Hold on, hold on," the sheriff said. He came into the cell and helped  Forrester back onto the bed. "Let the doctor get a look at you before  you rush off. You're in no state to go out there looking for trouble."

"Did Gris take her?"

"I don't know," the sheriff said. "All I know is that he hasn't been around here yet this morning."

Forrester felt a sudden rush of panic. It was a strange sensation. He  prided himself on his ability to remain calm in any situation, no matter  what was going on, but suddenly, the thought of Elle being taken away  by Gris was more than he could handle.

Was this what love felt like?

When the boys came back with the doctor, Forrester could hardly sit still.

"Are you going to let me bandage these ribs, or not?" the doctor protested as Forrester lay on the bed.

"Just do your best, doc. I've got to get out of here, and fast."

"I'd really like to take you in to the hospital."

"I don't have time for that. Just wrap them."

As the doctor bandaged Forrester's injured torso, the pain was overwhelming.

"I don't see why you won't let me give you something for the pain," the doctor said.

"I can't," Forrester said through gritted teeth. "I need to be fully alert."

As soon as the doctor was done, Forrester got up. He nearly fell and the sheriff and his son had to hold him up.

"I'm all right, I'm all right," Forrester said. "I need my truck key."

"Where are you going?" the sheriff said.

"I've got to find Elle before Gris does."

Phil put his hand in his pocket and handed Forrester a motorcycle key.  "Take this," he said. "If you have to chase them, it will be faster."

Forrester took the key. "Are you sure?"

"It's the least I can do, after everything we did to you," Phil said.

Forrester nodded. "Apology accepted," he said.

"You sure about this?" the doctor said. "It's freezing out there. The  road is covered in snow. You're already weak. It's not exactly ideal  conditions for riding a motorcycle."

Forrester didn't take the time to reply. He took the key and hurried down the corridor out of the jail. He had to find Elle.





Chapter 39

Forrester

FORRESTER FOUND PHIL'S MOTORCYCLE OUTSIDE the police station and started  it up. It was a powerful machine. It wouldn't be safe to drive in those  conditions, but it would definitely be the fastest and that's all he  cared about.

He started it with a kick and rode down the street to the diner,  flinching in pain at every movement of his muscles. When he got off the  bike he limped as quickly as he could through the door.                       
       
           



       

"Forrester," Kelly cried when she saw him. Her jaw literally dropped.

"Kelly," Forrester said.

"Where the hell were you? Where's Elle? We've been worried sick."

"What do you mean?" Forrester said.

"She didn't show up for work this morning. We dropped her home last  night and we thought she'd be safe there. Her ex, Gris, has been  harassing her."

"She's not here?" Forrester said.

"No," Kelly said.

Grace came out from the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron.  Forrester watched as she approached. She seemed very mad. She walked all  the way up to him and stopped when she was just inches from his face.

"Forrester Snow, you've got a lot of explaining to do."

"I know," Forrester said, but he didn't offer any explanation. What good would it do now to make excuses? He had to find Elle.

"Your mother would be ashamed of you, standing up that poor girl the other day."

"I never stood her up," Forrester said. "I wouldn't purposefully stand her up in a million years."

Grace looked him over. She saw the bruises on his face, the way he was  holding himself up on the counter, the obvious wounds he'd suffered  during the past couple of days.

"Something went wrong," Grace said. "Someone did something to you."

Forrester shrugged. "You knew my mother?"

"Of course I did, but this isn't the time to talk about that. You've got to find Elle."

Forrester looked around the diner. "I don't know where to start," he said.

"I'll tell you where," Gracie said. "Her apartment."

Kelly gave Forrester directions to the attic apartment and explained how  to get a key to get in. Forrester half limped, half ran down the street  toward it.

When he got there he knocked on her door. When there was no answer he  started looking for Dennis. He went into the bar that occupied the  ground floor of the building.

"Sir, are you Dennis?"

"That depends on who's asking," the old man said.

"My name's Forrester Snow. I'm a friend of Elle's. Your tenant upstairs."

"Forrester Snow. I know that name."

"Yes, sir. I grew up around these parts. You probably knew my father pretty well."

The old man grimaced. "I knew him. He was no friend of mine, but I knew him."

"I came home to bury him."

"So you did," Dennis said, nodding. "So you did."

"I'm nothing like him, if that's what you're wondering."

Dennis nodded some more. "I'm sure you're not. You're the boy who got  taken away, aren't you? The one who was locked up with the pit bulls."

Forrester nodded. Dennis looked at him closely and then sighed.

"Well, what can I do for you, Forrester Snow? You said you were a friend of Elle's?"

"Yes, sir. And I need to get into her apartment."

"Why's that?"

"Because I need to check if she's all right. Her ex has been harassing her. He might have taken her away."

"You know," Dennis said, "I'm not supposed to let anyone in there."

"This is a matter of life and death," Forrester said.

Dennis nodded. "I don't know about all that, but I can tell you're  trustworthy, son." He dug into his pocket and came out with a set of  keys. "It's the silver one on the end. Have a look around, but don't  touch anything."

"Yes, sir," Forrester said, hurrying back out to the street.

He unlocked the door and called out Elle's name. There was no answer. He  climbed the stairs and took in everything. A bed, made neatly, a hearth  with the ashes of a small fire, a coffee pot over the fire. On the desk  was a journal, and Forrester looked at the open page. It was a quote  from a writer.

*

It is better to be hated for what you are than loved for what you are not.