Blind Spot, page 5
Naomi didn’t miss a beat, “My daddy is Michael Isaac Neary.”
“You’re darn tooting, Bunny,” he said, pulling her in for a hug. “I have to get to work. You’re in good hands; I will see you later. Have fun in school.”
“Okay, Daddy,” she said, slowly removing her coat.
He didn’t want to leave her. How mothers did this and went off to work was beyond him. He barely made it to the door before turning back, only to be blocked by Ms. Renee the Admin.
“She’s fine. She will be fine. She’s in good hands, Michael Isaac Neary. Go to work,” Renee told him.
He nodded and passed Naomi’s backpack to her. Taking a deep breath, he headed for the elevators and a meeting he would be late in making.
MICHAEL ISAAC NEARY barely made it to ten o’clock before his assistant arrived at the meeting and tapped him on the shoulder. His boss Jerry Stanfield’s eyebrows raised. It was unusual for his meetings to be interrupted.
“Scarlet, is everything okay?” Jerry wanted to know.
“Mr. Neary has a call from the Child Development Center,” Scarlet said and turned to Slow. “There is an issue with your daughter.”
“Excuse me,” Slow told them, not waiting to hear anything else.
Jerry asked, “What daughter? When did you get a kid and why am I just hearing about it?”
“Haven’t had time,” he yelled, almost running to the elevator.
Jerry stood in the walkway; his hands fisted to his sides. He yelled at everyone within earshot of why no one knew Neary had a child. As people walked by, he yelled individually at each one asking.
“I feel like we don’t even know this man,” Jerry said, wanting to go to the childcare center to be nosey, but then he had a better idea.
Meanwhile, Mr. Slow arrived at the childcare center to find Naomi sitting alone in the front of the center as if she were in a time-out. A new man, whom he hadn’t seen before, awaited Slow. The folded arms across his chest became the first red flag. The look of condemnation in his eyes ran the second red flag up the pole. The bitchiness which came out of his mouth became the 3rd reason Mr. Slow wanted to pay the man a late-night visit with his favorite set of carving knives.
“Mr. Neary?”
He responded with his eyes on his child, “Yes, Naomi, are you okay?”
She nodded her head but tears were in her eyes. That made him angry that the pencil-necked man may have something to do with his Bunny being upset. When he turned to look at the man, he gave him the stare. He stared mutherfuckingly at his beady eyes, bird-beaked nose, and thin pink lips. The man took a step back.
“What seems to be the problem?” he asked the man.
“We have a no violence rule here, Mr. Neary,” the man told him. “Your daughter struck another child and we can’t have that. She will not be allowed to stay or be enrolled at this center. I’m sorry.”
Slow’s anger was simmering, “And who are you?”
“George Glanecki, the Director of the Center,” he said with pride for a title on which Slow was certain he didn’t earn.
“Did you ask Naomi why she hit another child?”
“It doesn’t matter why, Mr. Neary. We have a no-violence policy, I’m sorry, but she cannot stay,” George Glanecki reiterated.
Slow looked at his daughter, squatting down to her level. “Naomi, can you tell Daddy why you hit another child?”
“Timmy,” she said with her bottom lip poked out. “The boy Timmy, he tried to kiss me. I told him no, and he tried it again. I asked him to stop, then him tried to kiss Jane, so I hit Timmy in the mouth.”
It was all Slow needed to hear. He stood, rising to his full six feet one, his broad chest expanding as he measured his words carefully. Every teacher in the center was paying attention as he spoke.
“Mr. Glanecki, to make certain we are clear, you had a male student attempt to force unwanted physical attention on my daughter, who defended herself from his advances, and you are putting my child out of the center,” he said. “Are you doing the same for this Timmy?”
“Mr. Neary, Timmy didn’t hit another child, your daughter did,” Glanecki explained. “If there is violence in your home...”
“So, what you’re telling me is that you are allowing my daughter to be victimized by a male student, punishing her for coming forth, and defending herself from his 4-year-old unwanted advances, and she’s the one getting kicked out,” Slow said, moving in closer. “In the presence of all these women, who have at one point in their lives been assaulted, or nearly assaulted, by some creep on their jobs, or on campus, or possibly a family member, you are going to teach my 4-year-old daughter that by telling on a boy for bad behavior, she is going to get in trouble.”
It was starting to dawn on George Glanecki where Mr. Neary’s train of thought was headed. He held up his hands. “No that is not it at all, Mr. Neary.”
“Oh, so you’re saying that Timmy did no wrong in making unwanted intimate advances towards my 4-year-old daughter?”
“Honestly, they are kids; it was only a simple kiss,” Glanecki said.
“Fine, then get over here and let me kiss you on the mouth,” Slow said to him.
“Mr. Neary, that is highly inappropriate!”
“And so is Timmy’s behavior,” he said. “Too many men like you allow boys to get away with their bad behaviors, saying boys will be boys. Those boys grow into men who continue with the wrong behavior. Timmy is gonna learn today to keep his lips off the girls. How many others has he graced with his unwanted mouth? Have you called his parents and spoken to them about their overtly sensual behaviors in front of their kid?”
“Sir, I don’t know what’s happening in their homes,” Glanecki said.
“Oh, but you think you know what’s happening in mine?” Slow said, moving closer. “You will not on this day, or any day, teach my daughter that standing up for herself is something for which she will be punished, you hear me? Bunny, you did good. If Timmy tries to kiss you again, hit his little ass harder, you hear me, and then have them call your daddy. What’s my name, Bunny?”
“Michael Isaac Neary,” she said, smiling.
“Head back to your class, Baby. I’ll see you later,” he told her bending to kiss her cheek. When she got out of earshot, he said to the Director, “You have no idea the shit I see out in the real world, Mr. Glanecki. Too many young women don’t speak up because of years of conditioning them to shut up and take the unwanted advances of assholes with boners brushing up against them or sexual intimidation because they need the job. They are taught not to tell, or they’re going to be punished or look like a whore when the facts come out. You will not teach my daughter to be silent and neither will I. Are we clear?”
“Crystal,” Glanecki said to him.
“Have a nice day,” he told the man, nodding his head to Renee who was leaning forward with her chin in her hand grinning at him.
Renee looked at the Ichabod Crane-looking Director juxtaposed against a man like Michael Isaac Neary. Her ears grew hot and she crossed her legs watching him walk away. “Now that is a man!”
“Ms. Wilcox, don’t you have work to do?” Glanecki stated, also watching Slow walk away. “Who is he and where does he work? I’ve never seen him before.”
She rummaged through the folder she started for Naomi. “He’s the Assistant Section Chief for the Blue Campaign,” she said.
“The Blue Campaign? Don’t you think it would have been helpful to know that before I called him down here?”
“What is the Blue Campaign?”
“It is part of the education arm of Homeland Security that deals with human trafficking,” Glanecki said, “I bet he has seen a great deal. Neary, you say?”
“Yes, but we’ve been telling you about Timmy’s troubling behavior for months,” Renee said. “I guess both you and Timmy learned a valuable lesson today.”
George ignored her as he did most of the women in his employ. He opted to stare into the distance, talking aloud to himself.
“Neary. Neary. Why do I know that name?” Glanecki pulled out his phone, searched a federal database, and immediately found Isiah Neary, Assistant Director at the ATF across town. He found a Joseph Neary, a recently retired, SAIC, of the FBI out of Quantico, an Ezekiel Neary, medically retired from the Secret Service, and one Mark Neary, Chief Deputy of the US Marshals Field Office in Lexington, Kentucky. One other Neary was attached to Langley, but no other information was listed.
“Damn, I tangled with the bear,” he said, suddenly feeling small.
“That bear nearly ate you too,” Renee said, looking down at the folder.
BY THE TIME MICHAEL Isaac Neary went to lunch, word had spread through his office that the man slow to anger, slow to engage in friendly banter, and slow to develop workplace friendships, had sped up his actions and gotten somebody pregnant. Many found it hard to believe that Neary, the man with one facial expression, was indeed someone’s father, meaning a woman had lain with him, received his seed, and decided to make more little people just like him.
“Neary!” his boss yelled across the workspace. “Do I get to meet your kid?”
“No, I haven’t met any of yours,” Slow replied.
“Yes, you have, at the company Holiday gathering,” Jerry called back.
“No, I did not, because I’ve never been to one of those,” Slow said calmly, wondering why his office looked like a drop-off location for Toys for Tots. “What is all of this stuff in my office?”
“The team wanted to give you a baby shower, but figured you’d just growl at everybody, scowl and bark, so they went on lunch to get the little lady gifts,” Jerry said with pride. “Go on, show us a picture.”
“Jerry, do you have the Albuquerque file? I can’t seem to locate it under all of these toys,” he said. “Whose idea was this anyway?”
Jerry looked around the stark office. The man didn’t even have a plant, a baseball caught from a major league game or any hint of who he was outside of the office. Hell, Jerry could barely tell who he was inside the office. In all honestly, he didn’t know Neary outside of what he did for the section he ran.
“You need a photo on your desk of your family. It makes you seem more human and not all like a serial killer, I’m coming to slash your veins with my sharp knives and watch you bleed real slow kind of vibe,” Jerry said. “Some of your co-workers are afraid of you.”
He was done with the probative approach to his personal life. His gaze was intense when he looked at his boss and noticed the falter in his step. He softened the gaze and actually smiled at him, showing a bit of teeth. Jerry took two steps back.
“Jerry, am I any good at my job?”
“What? You’re damned great at your job,” Jerry said, sticking out his chest.
“Then this is where the conversation ends,” he told his boss, pointing at the door. In the ten years he’d worked in the department, Jerry and he had traveled together often. Slow didn’t drink with his boss or co-workers and outside of knowing his father and what his cousins did for a living, he kept to himself. He kept his eye on the clock. At 4:15, he couldn’t stand it any longer; he needed to check on his Bunny.
He arrived at the childcare to be greeted by Renee the Admin, who presented papers for him to sign. Slow wanted to have a few minutes to chat with the teacher before all the parents showed up at five p.m. in a rush to collect their kids and head home. Ms. Stewart waited for him near her desk.
His eyes scanned the room to find Naomi on the floor, playing with building blocks with a red-headed girl.
“Ms. Stewart, correct? How did she do today, I mean outside of socking Timmy the Tongue?” he asked, enjoying the simple beauty of watching her play with another child.
“Overall, she did well, Mr. Neary,” Ms. Stewart said. It was the pause that made him turn to look her squarely in the face, his deep brown eyes unflinching as he watched her face. “I wanted to say thank you.”
“And what are you thanking me for, might I ask?”
She blushed a bit under his gaze. “It takes a man to explain and break it down to George the way you did. He can’t see it and didn’t understand until you said something. We all appreciate you stepping up, but I didn’t know what to expect.”
“Expect?”
“The way Naomi invoked your name after she let Timmy have it,” Ms. Stewart said. “I was on my way to separate them after Timmy tried to kiss her twice, and Naomi told him to stop. She laid one on him, but it left no bruising. Your daughter invoked your name clearly and with purpose. ‘Call my Daddy. Him name Michael Isaac Neary!’ I was waiting to see what would happen.”
“I’m sorry if it was disruptive to your schedule and day,” he said.
“No need to apologize; you didn’t disappoint Michael Isaac Neary,” she said, blushing furiously.
“I never do,” he said, giving an uncharacteristic smile. Quickly, he changed the subject. “Do I need to bring another change of clothing, leave the backpack with what she has...the whole morning routine and fighting Rapunzel with the hair is a bit much.”
“You did her hair?”
“My sister owns a beauty salon, so I’ve spent many an hour doing repairs in the shop, painting, fixing things because she’s so cheap, so I learned, I guess by osmosis,” he told her.
“Naomi,” he called, “time to head home. Thank you. I hope she had a good day.”
“Overall, she did. She even made some friends,” Ms. Stewart added.
“Good to know; have a good evening,” he said as Naomi made her way to him, her coat and scarf in hand.
She waved goodbye to her new friends and teacher. He whispered in her ear as his little bunny gave a wide grin. “Bunny fingers up, and Bunny is out!
Naomi threw up the peace sign with her two diminutive fingers, giving the peace out sign.
HE WANTED THE EVENING to end quietly, but he arrived home to find his father’s car waiting for him in the gravel drive. Word had spread faster than he hoped, and now he had to deal with this. He parked in front of the house instead of the garage, getting out to meet his father.
“Daddy, let me guess, the Scuttlebutt made it to your office and you had to come see for yourself,” Slow said, walking over to embrace his father, who planted a tender kiss on his temple.
“Well, your Ma and I deserve to know if we have a grandchild. We’d like to meet her, and when you didn’t show up for Sunday dinner, I figured something was amiss,” Mark Neary said. “Where is she? I can’t wait to meet my grandbaby.”
“Daddy, go easy with her,” he warned.
“Go easy? How old is she? I heard four,” Mark Neary said as Slow walked around the SUV and unfastened the seat belt.
The toys were loaded in the rear of the vehicle, at least the first load.
“What did you do, rob a toy store?’
“No, those idiots at work gave me a belated baby shower,” Slow said, lifting Naomi out of the vehicle and into his arms. She snuggled close, not sure if she was ready to meet the man with the big booming voice. “Come inside and let me get her settled; she’s had a big day at school.”
Mark Neary grabbed as many of the toys as his arms could carry and took them into the house. Immediately, he noticed a difference in the feel of his son’s place. The air was different. His son was different as well.
The child in his arms went to the floor, standing on her feet. Slow removed a colorful scarf from around her neck and the hat from her head, to reveal a café au lait-hued girl child with jet-black curly hair, ears that protruded from her head, and the Neary nose. Mark couldn’t help himself; he reached for his granddaughter, sweeping her into his arms.
“You are the most beautiful, adorable little thing I have ever seen in all my days. Good grief, I love you already,” Mark said, leaning in to kiss her cheek, only to have his lips met with a tiny fist.
“Oomp,” Mark said, shocked.
“Don’t kiss me. I don’t know you,” Naomi told him.
“I’m your Grandaddy. I’m your Daddy’s Daddy,” Mark tried to explain.
“You’re not my Daddy,” Naomi clarified. “My daddy is Michael Isaac Neary.”
She pushed at his chest, struggling to get down to the floor. As soon as she got to the floor, she stood next to her father, staring at the man as if he’d violated the Geneva Convention on engagement with the enemy. She cut her eyes up at her father, waiting on his cues.
“I’m making some dinner; we’re having spaghetti,” he told her.
“Okay. Daddy, can I play with these toys?”
“Pick three for right now,” he told her.
Mark and Michael watched the child carefully sort through the selection, count out three items, and cart them off to her room. Naomi looked back at him, holding up two fingers, and said, “Bunny out!”
Slow began to laugh.
“Ah shit,” he said. “She’s something ain’t she?”
Chapter 5 – The Gingerbread Man
Free Soil, Michigan
She was bleeding. He didn’t like that. He hated the blood. He hated the smell of the blood mixed with the scent of a woman; the odor turned his stomach. She would need to be detoxed before he could touch her. She had to be cleansed before he could taste the sweetness of her nectar.
It would a month take to detoxify her body to make her pure again for his sexual satisfaction. Never would he consort with an unclean woman. She smelled impure and that he couldn’t tolerate.
“Wash!” He told Shenita Nelson, his latest captive, a woman he picked up right outside of a chicken house in Detroit. “I was wondering if you worked at the chicken house and can make the restaurant’s fried chicken and sweet potatoes. I would be much obliged if you could.”
Shenita Nelson tried to stay awake, but the sedative he’d used made her brain fuzzy and nothing seemed right. Blinking several times to sort through the haze, she couldn’t make out his face. He wore a skeleton mask of some sort.
