Page 5 of Silent Night

"I’ll only be a minute,” he said, opening the door and stepping out onto the cracked pavement.

Sheila’s eyes never left her father as he strode purposefully toward one of the buildings. He raised a hand and knocked, the sound sharp in the still morning air. The door creaked open to reveal a harried-looking woman with disheveled hair, a baby bouncing on her hip as she tried to balance the infant and a cigarette in one hand. Their voices were too low for Sheila to make out the words, but she could see the woman nod before stepping aside to let Gabe in.

"Who is she?" Sheila wondered, her fingers worrying the fabric of her jeans. It struck her that she had been so consumed by her kickboxing career that she knew very little about her father's life beyond their shared love for sports. The realization made her feel guilty and curious in equal measure.

Bored, she decided to check her phone. There were no new messages, however. With a sigh, she shoved the device back into her pocket and opened the truck door, stepping onto the broken sidewalk. A shiver ran down her spine as she surveyed the poverty-stricken neighborhood, the dilapidated houses like decaying teeth in a crooked smile.

As she paced, trying to shake off the heavy atmosphere, Sheila caught fragments of an argument spilling out from one of the nearby houses. The man's voice was gruff, slurring his words as if intoxicated or drugged, while the woman countered with shrill defiance.

"We're done, Carl!" she shouted. "You hear me? Done!"

"Oh, yeah?" he answered truculently. "Just like last time, huh? Running off to your mother's again, all because I had the balls to teach the little brat a lesson?"

Listening to the heated exchange, Sheila felt an involuntary shudder run through her. She couldn't help but imagine the kind of life the children in this neighborhood must have, surrounded by drugs and violence from such an early age. It was a far cry from her own upbringing, and she found herself feeling grateful for the sacrifices her parents had made to give her a better life.

Is that why Dad came here? Sheila thought, her eyes flicking back to the building where her father had disappeared. Is he trying to help someone like that woman and her child? The possibility stirred a surge of pride within her, mixed with a newfound determination to understand and support her father's endeavors, whatever they might be.

The front door of the house creaked open, drawing Sheila's gaze again. Gabe stepped out onto the cracked sidewalk, his familiar broad-shouldered silhouette cast in sharp relief by the early morning sun. Behind him, a girl of about fourteen followed with an air of indifference, as if she couldn't care less about the world around her. She had unkempt, shoulder-length dark hair that framed a face etched with defiance. Her eyes were shadowed and wary, and her clothes hung off her thin frame, suggesting a lack of proper nourishment.

The girl climbed into the back seat of the truck without a word or even a glance in Sheila's direction, slamming the door shut behind her. Sheila raised an eyebrow at her father.

Gabe offered a reassuring half-smile before climbing into the driver's seat, leaving Sheila with no choice but to slip into her own seat. As Gabe started the engine, he introduced the two young women.

"Sheila, this is Star," he said, glancing in the rearview mirror. "Star, meet my daughter, Sheila."

"Star? That's a beautiful name," Sheila said, turning to catch the girl's eye in an attempt to initiate conversation. However, Star simply stared out the window, her expression unchanging, as if she hadn't heard a word. It was clear she had no interest in engaging with either of them.

Sheila frowned, puzzled by the girl's behavior and wondering what her story was. She glanced at her father, who seemed to be focused entirely on driving, but she could sense the weight of unspoken thoughts behind his steady gaze.

As the truck bounced over potholes and cracked asphalt, Sheila couldn't contain her curiosity any longer. "How do you know Star, Dad?" she asked, stealing a glance at the girl in the rearview mirror. Star's eyes remained fixed on the passing scenery, her face an unreadable mask.

Gabe's grip on the steering wheel tightened for a moment before he replied. "I'm a friend of her family's. Been taking her to the gym now and then."

"And you thought it would be a good idea to bring her along with us to this junkyard?" Sheila lowered her voice, but even so Star heard her.

"Why?" Star asked. "What's at the junkyard?"

Sheila hesitated, recalling what her father had said about gang territory. "Nothing," she answered. "It's just that—"

"Just that we might run into some former acquaintances who are not so friendly," Gabe said. "But we can handle ourselves, can't we, Sheila?"

Looking at him, Sheila thought of all the times her dad had brought her and Natalie to run similar "errands," checking up on suspects and investigating leads when he was supposedly off-duty. He'd always been careful to insulate his daughters from any danger, and even though there was still some risk involved, Sheila appreciated the way he'd involved his daughters in his life.

Now, he was doing the same thing with Star. It might seem reckless to some…but then again, maybe Star didn't have any better alternatives. This certainly seemed better than her staying home.

"Of course," Sheila said, giving her dad a smile. She looked at Star. "One thing you'll learn about my dad, if you haven't already: Life's always an adventure around him. But he'll look out for you."

Star nodded noncommittally, her thoughts hidden behind her glassy gaze. She turned her attention to her phone as she tried to plug it into the charger.

"Stupid thing," she muttered as she jabbed the charger at the plug.

"What's wrong?" Sheila asked.

"My dad stepped on it, and now it doesn't fit right." There was a note of despair in the girl's voice. Faced with such a chaotic home life, the phone must have been a lifeline to Star, a world of possibilities she could escape into. Sheila could only imagine how difficult it would be for Star to go without it.

"Here," Sheila said, opening the glove box. "I think my old charger's still in here." She fished it out, then handed it back to Star. Their eyes met for a moment, and there was a gleam of something in Star's gaze—gratitude at being treated like a human being, perhaps.

"Thanks," Star muttered, taking the charger. It fit easily into the plug, and a moment later her phone lit up as it began charging. She was so engrossed in the device.

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