Fearless Rebel: A Hero Club Novel

by Eden Butler

  My grandfather rubbed his neck, ignoring me as I watched him pull out a bandana from his back pocket to wipe his cheeks dry.

  Fifty-four years.

  The same woman. Every day. Every night. It had to feel like breathing, being with her. Like knowing the lines on your fingertips. Two pieces of a puzzle that would make no sense without the other.

  The Stetson fit tighter on my head, but I managed to stuff it over my eyes, shoving my fingers against my lids to wipe away the useless tears and Velma’s sweet smile. It would do me no good to stand here and wallow in this loss. That could come later when I was alone. When there wasn’t Alex’s business to contend with.

  “Done?” Tasso asked as I moved closer to the truck, giving him a nod, keeping my mouth shut in case all the tears hadn’t made their way clear from my throat.

  I thought of stupid, useless shit that Tasso wouldn’t want to hear to fill the empty cab as we drove away from the cemetery, but nothing would help. Instead, I reached for the radio, catching the tail end of weather forecast and the beginning of the crime report I only half listened to.

  “District Attorney Ronald Wood says the investigation of murdered Associated Herald reporter, Finnley Michaels is now…”

  I blocked out the bad news, tired of hearing about death and loss. Tasso frowned, that stony expression deepening as he drove, and I still couldn’t think of anything to say to him. The words would come when they were needed. But, I couldn’t help the relief that filled me when the cell in my front pocket cracked through the silence in the truck cab and I hurried to open it.

  “Yeah?”

  “Uh, this Mr. Mescal?”

  “What can I do for you, Lou?” I’d told Alex’s project manager, Lou Winters, at least three times to call me Ed but the man still wasn’t used to me.”

  “I wasn’t sure who I should call about this…you said Alex would be tied up for a while, but this ain’t one of our regular jobs…”

  “I’m covering for him. What’s the problem?”

  Tasso shot me a look, one I couldn’t read as he flicked the blinker, turning the truck toward town, moving us closer and closer into parts of Midland Grove I hadn’t worked up the nerve to venture into since I’d been back. But then, there hadn’t been much time for that.

  “I’d don’t know if Alex told you but he has a crew repairing the dry rot on Miss Warren’s exterior porch trim. Place that old, that big, there’s always some little fix here and there that needs doing. But they’re one man short and the material that got delivered is wrong. I’d go out there myself, but I’m halfway to Mill Valley for that condo rebuild. We’re on a crunch for that one. You got somebody on the books that can handle his sister’s place?”

  I leaned back in the seat, that pinch in my chest getting tighter. I had only seen Piper in passing when I came home in the afternoons just as she was leaving after sorting Evie’s day workers with the boarders. She’d promised to be nice and other than a flared nostril when I tipped my hat at her without speaking last night, she’d kept her word.

  But this? This would likely lead to a conversation. With words. On her property. The literal scene of the crime that was no damn crime at all.

  “Mr. Mescal?” Lou said, making me sit up straight.

  “Don’t worry about it. I’ll take care of uh…Miss Warren’s job.”

  “Sounds good.” Lou disconnected the call just as Tasso parallel parked a half block from Piper’s B&B.

  “What are you…”

  “Alex always takes care of his sister’s jobs first thing in the morning.” He leaned back, motioning toward the van that pulled down the street and hung a right into the B&B driveway. “Sounds like that’s what you gotta do today, shíyázhí.”

  I tore off my hat to smooth back my hair, then replaced the Stetson, Tasso watching me the whole time. “What?”

  “I’m not so old.” He moved his chin, but not his eyes toward the large Victorian as though those four words were explanation enough.

  But according to Alex, Tasso had barely been able to make it from the parking garage to the hospital lobby without getting winded the first night Evie was there. No way he could manage climbing a ladder to measure the trim or replace it.

  I waved a hand, shoving the cell back in my pocket. “It’s my job for now. May as well get it over with.”

  The door creaked and whined when I opened it, and I may have taken more time than I should have looking it over, trying to figure if greasing it would fix the problem, before Tasso cleared his throat, bringing my attention back up into that cab.

  “You want to tell me something?’

  He didn’t look at me as he shook his head, that hard, milky gaze staring through the windshield toward the Cadillac that pulled into the driveway. “Bitterness will choke you until all you taste is the burn it leaves on your tongue.”

  Blinking at Tasso, I held the doorhandle, not sure if I should laugh at him, or thank him for whatever slice of wisdom he thought this was imparting on me.

  “I’m not choking on anything…”

  “Then let loose of my door,” he said, tilting his head at the death grip I had on the offending handle. It was easy for him to give advice. He hadn’t been set up. At this place. By these people. When I didn’t move, the old man tipped his head, eyes squinting as he looked me over. “I didn’t raise a coward.” The thick knot choking my throat disappeared at my grandfather’s words, and I nodded once, shutting the door before I headed toward the driveway. “Be back in an hour,” he called, gesturing with two fingers out of his window as he drove away.

  Velma would click her tongue at the way I walked, head down, hat over my eyes. Tasso would slap the back of my head just to get me to look forward, meet the workers nods as they moved past me on the sidewalk.

  But Stillwater was in my head. It would be for a long time.

  There were rules you had to follow. Rules I figured out watching the others without letting on that I saw too much: Don’t make eye contact, unless you’re looking for a tussle. Don’t hear anything that wasn’t your business and for God’s sake, do your own damn time. But Midland wasn’t Stillwater and no matter what waited for me up that curved driveway and on the other side of the hedge I inched toward, I had to face it.

  “No, not that one, damn it.” The voice was still high-pitched. Still whiny. Still had the effortless ability to make me want to upturn a table or two just hearing it. Figured. First few steps up the drive, no more than fifty feet from the front porch and Sam Travis was the first voice I heard. “The green. I told you the damn green shutters, not the blue.”

  “That is green, Mr. Travis, if you don’t mind me sayin’…” Whoever the poor guy was, would have zero luck convincing his boss of anything. Not that one.

  “I do mind, you asshole…”

  Something sharp licked at my insides, made me clench my back teeth, and I fought like hell to push back the senseless idea of slamming my way onto that porch, through the small crowd of workers to get a good look at that bastard and deliver the ass kicking he deserved.

  Instead, I turned in the opposite direction and headed for the front of the Victorian, spotting the small crew doing their best to fit what they had of material to the broken dentil molding that lined the pitch just above the porch.

  “You Mr. Warren’s brother-in-law?” A skinny black guy with a thick beard asked as he shimmied down the ladder.

  “Ed Mescal.”

  I didn’t offer him my hand because the man immediately looked up at the stack of material and dug out a crumbled work order from his shirt pocket. “Todd, that’s the kid that was supposed to pick up the order. Me? I don’t know him. Only met him maybe three times, but shit, he’s got an in with the boss’s niece or something.” The work order was smudged and handwritten with Lincoln Webster’s logo along the top of the sheet. The man was a subcontractor Alex only used when all the other trim carpenters were busy with other jobs. Webster was unreliable, but cheap and if this misfire with the ma
terial was anything to go by, Alex was getting what he paid for.

  “You been with Webster long?” I said, still looking at the paper, but stopped, holding up a hand before the man could answer me. “What they call you?”

  “Slim.” He offered me a hand after wiping it on the back of his jeans. “And yeah, for about six months. He pays okay. At least, he pays on time.” Slim shifted his gaze around the site, taking a step closer, tightening his shoulders like he braced for bad news. “Truth is, not many in this town would hire me. I was…out for a while.” When I tilted my head, not asking a thing, but catching his meaning, Slim shrugged. “I didn’t steal nothing, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

  “That’s not my business.” I stuffed the work order into my back pocket and shot a look up at the trim. “You got a car?” I asked, not looking at the man.

  “Piece of shit S-10 I bought off my uncle. It was my little rodeo chick cousin’s. You need a lift somewhere?”

  Shaking my head, I pushed back my Stetson before I watched him. “No, man, but I’m gonna want you to drive out to Woodward’s Lumberyard on Route 15. I’ll call Stevie and he’ll sort this shit out.”

  “You got a credit with him?”

  “He’ll give you what you need, don’t worry about it.” When I tugged off my jacket and tossed it on the ground, watching the kid sitting on the dormer playing on the phone, Slim whistled, motioning him down.

  “That lazy bastard is new, too. Todd’s little brother. Uselessness must run in the family”

  “Sounds like you don’t have a lot of love for the people you work with, if you don’t mind me saying, Slim,” I said, the idea coming to me out of nowhere.

  “I mind my business, but I gotta be honest, they’re not exactly real friendly or ready to give me a raise.” He shook his head, ignoring the kid when he cleared the ladder. “But ol’ Todd and his little bro here, they get raises and lunch with Old Man Webster himself. Me? Nah, I don’t get none of that shit.”

  Odd man out. It was Midland. He was an outsider and he’d also done time. I knew what both of those things felt like. “Sounds to me like you might be looking to move on to a friendlier place.”

  “Yeah? Maybe.” He stood at my side. “Been meaning to ask Mr. Warren if he had anything open, but they say he’s gonna be out for a while.”

  “He is. But I’m taking over for him.”

  Two of Sam’s workers moved off the porch and out onto the yard, both carrying large wooden shutters in their hands. Definitely green, not blue. I recognized the older one, a landscaper that had done work on the place before it opened, but couldn’t remember his name if I ever knew it. He slowed his steps as he came near us, shooting me a long look that made him distracted enough to trip on the foot of the ladder before he corrected himself and followed his co-worker out to the garden shed.

  “Thing is,” I told Slim, ignoring the man, “you’re not the only one that might run into trouble for being away.”

  “No shit?” He moved his eyebrows up, like he hadn’t expected any truth telling from me, but the surprise didn’t stay on his face.

  “None.” When I adjusted my hat, standing in front of Slim, his face relaxed, like he saw something in me he was only just recognizing, but I didn’t let him ask the questions I knew were probably buzzing in his head. “Midland has rules and they don’t like rebels or outsiders. You and me, I guess we’re both those things.”

  “You ain’t saying nothing but the truth.”

  I scratched my chin, wondering how long it would take before my being back started being a problem for the folk in town. It was inevitable.

  “This is a hard town to be friendless in, man, and I’m probably going to need somebody to have my back if I’m called out to this place again.”

  Slim’s slow nod went still as his gaze moved over my shoulder and the relaxed, easy expression on his face shifted. I knew enough about prison yard tussles to read the signs when one was coming and from the shift of Slim’s eyes and the sound of hurrying feet at my back, I got that I was about to be in the middle of a firestorm that was going to irk me something fierce.

  “You think you might be interested?” I hurried to ask Slim, offering my hand.

  He only hesitated a second, his eyes rounding before he shook it. “Yeah. I got you.”

  “Good. Head out to Woodward’s. I’ll make the call.” When Slim opened his mouth, staring back at the man moving quicker behind me, I silenced his probable warning with a head shake. “I’m expecting him and his mood. Let me handle this asshole.”

  “You sure you…”

  “I’m sure. Thanks, man.”

  Slim was halfway to the sidewalk, nearing a black S-10 with a “This Ain’t My Boyfriend’s Truck” sticker on the back window when I turned, coming face-to-face with Sam Travis and his red-flushed face.

  “You got a lot of damn nerve showing up here.” His cell was out, his thumb scrolling across the screen as he glanced between it and me. There was spittle in the corners of his mouth and his hair was sticking out and stringy, like he’d been sweating all morning and hadn’t quite managed to keep himself looking presentable. “Do the cops know you’ve escaped?”

  “I’m here helping Alex.” I wasn’t going to let this jackass goad me. If he thought he could, he was more of an idiot than I remembered. Still, he went on scrolling like he was itching to find someone to tattle to and couldn’t decide who that should be. But I wouldn’t call him on how stupid he looked. Instead, I turned back toward the house, moving toward the ladder before I finished filling him in on why I was at the B&B. “You damn well know that just like I’m sure you know my conviction was overturned.”

  He moved to my side when I grabbed the tool belt Slim had left near the ladder. Sam kept his gaze focused, watching me like I would burn the place to the ground. Tempting, but not worth the headache it would cause.

  I reached for a rung on the ladder and Sam grabbed my arm. “Whatever you think you’re doing here, we can handle it without your help.”

  Jerking my hand from his grip I stepped in front of him, holding in a grin when he moved back like he knew I wanted to pop him good in the mouth. “That right? Hell, man, you couldn’t even tell the difference between green and blue shutters. You gonna carry your dumpy ass up that ladder and fix the trim?” Sam flinched, his cheeks going redder, and I shook my head. “Yeah, didn’t think so.”

  “There is a court order barring you from…”

  “No, there isn’t.” The man was piss and wind. Always had been, and now it seemed he’d only gotten dumpier, his levels fuller of that shit. But he’d never have the nerve to back up all the shit that came out of his mouth. Head tilted, I slipped my lips into a grin, letting myself enjoy the shift in his features, how wrinkles formed between his eyebrows when I looked at him. “You trying to intimidate me, Travis? Hell, that’d be almost cute if it didn’t get on my nerves so bad.”

  “Piper will not want you to be here…she’ll get all flustered…”

  “Sounds like you’re the flustered one, man. When the hell did you get so damn pissy?”

  “That’s it.” He waved his phone, working his finger over the screen again like it was some sort of threat that would have me running. “I’m calling the sheriff’s office.”

  “Be my guest. I’ve got work to do.” I took hold of the rung again, making it onto three before he grabbed my arm.

  “You will not, you son of a bitch. Don’t touch a thing. Piper will have a fit if she knows you of all people…”

  “Oh, for God’s sake, Sam, I know.” Her voice was high, exasperated and if I didn’t know any better, irritated—at Sam, not me. Piper came to Sam’s side, meeting my eyes with a quick nod, then she faced Sam, her mouth tight and her nostrils widened. “What’s your problem? I left you a message. Alex called me this morning.” She gestured to the phone in his hand with her coffee, slipping a glance at me long enough to move across my chest and to my boots still on the third ladder rung before returnin
g her attention back to Sam. “Let Ed do what he came here to do so he can get on with the other work he’s doing for Alex. Why are you aggravating him?”

  They didn’t acknowledge me when they walked off, Sam trailing behind Piper, his voice carrying over the sound of a truck pulling into the drive and a man wearing a delivery uniform bouncing out of the cab caught Sam’s attention. He pulled his gaze from Piper long enough to point the driver toward the side of the B&B, watching him as he disappeared before he faced her again.

  I tried to put them out of my head, tried my best to forget about Sam’s attitude or how the small breeze had brushed Piper’s thick hair from her shoulder and that familiar rosemary and mint scent waffled straight into my senses. Hit me like a kick to the gut and for a second my head got fuzzy with memories of the back of my truck and Piper laying on my chest as we watched the black sky above us and made plans we’d mangle in the end of our relationship.

  Then, Sam’s loud whisper hit me, the words striking up a suspicion I’d had for five long years, reminding me now would be the perfect time to find out the truth.

  “How can you let him work on anything…after all the bullshit he put you through…”

  “I have no choice right now, do I?” Piper’s voice was biting, exhausted, but then she downed her coffee, tossing her cup into a trashcan near the front porch and some of the tiredness left her. “Besides, Ed’s a good carpenter. He and Alex were both trained by Mr. Mescal and…”

  “Don’t you remember all the botched jobs? Hell, the flooded front lobby? Don’t you remember the screw we found in the pipe? He was your GM, Piper. He oversaw all those subcontractors. He was responsible.”

  I was halfway up the ladder when Sam’s questions stopped me. Glancing toward them, I spotted the look Piper gave me, the same worried, disappointed expression she’d served me when I pulled up the drive five years before and a sheriff’s cruiser was waiting for me.

  Piper motioned Sam toward the front of the Victorian, but I could still make out their conversation. “Why would he do that?”