by Robin James
“Hi,” I said. “So I guess I don’t need to introduce myself.”
Lindsey looked over her shoulder. The undercard match was just getting started and this section of the bar had all but cleared out.
“Yeah. I saw you on the news or whatever.”
Or whatever.
“Look, I know you’re working. And I can see by the expression on your face how you feel about seeing me. But I’d really like to set up a time to talk to you.”
Lindsey set my water glass down. “I don’t ... there’s nothing ... um ... why?”
Here was the thing. How to broach it. My lead as far as Lindsey was about as solid as asking a Magic 8-Ball. God, I wanted to be wrong. For the first time since Aubrey broke, I realized it would probably be a hell of a lot easier if Coach Drazdowski were truly just an innocent murder victim and Aubrey a dumb kid who’d made a horrible choice.
I went right in, knowing this girl couldn’t hide anything from her eyes.
“I know you went to Delphi. And I know you ran for Coach Drazdowski when he helped out with the girls’ track team. I just want to ask you a few questions.”
One beat. That’s all it took. There’d been a part of me desperately hoping I’d hit a dead end tonight. But Lindsey Claussen’s complexion changed. Purple blotches spread over her collarbone, rose up her neck, and settled in her cheeks. God. She shook her head rapidly then brought her tray up, holding it in front of her like a shield.
“I can’t,” she said. “You aren’t ... there isn’t.”
Then Lindsey staggered backward, dropped her tray, and took off out the back door of the bar.
“Son of a bitch,” I muttered as a cheer rose from the main crowd. One fighter was on the mat. The other, bloodied and smiling, rose his fist in the air. I got up and followed Lindsey outside.
I found her throwing up beside a big blue dumpster. She saw me coming and put a hand up, trying to ward me off.
“Lindsey, I’m not here to upset you. I’m sorry about that.”
“Who,” she asked, wild-eyed. “Who told you to come talk to me?”
“I represent Aubrey Ames. I mean, I think you already know that.”
“Listen,” I said. “I can file a subpoena. If Aubrey’s case goes to trial, I can make you testify. I don’t want to do that though. I just want to have a conversation.”
“Look, I’m done with this. I don’t know anything about Coach D. I barely knew Aubrey. Whatever happened. Whatever she’s saying. It’s got nothing to do with me. If you call me at that trial I’ll plead the fifth. You can’t make me say anything.”
“Lindsey, I understand you’re upset. You can’t just plead the fifth to keep from saying anything. It doesn’t work that way.”
I approached her cautiously. She trembled, just like I’d seen Aubrey do a dozen times. If I was right, if Larry Drazdowski did something inappropriate with her, I didn’t want to be ... couldn’t be some other person trying to back her into a corner. But I saw it in her eyes. She was absolutely terrified. Like just the mention of Coach D’s name conjured some ghost for her.
“Who did you try to talk to?” I asked, pretending I knew more than I did. “Was it Mr. Sydney? The athletic director?”
Lindsey’s eyes flickered. I sensed I’d hit the nail on the head. Her posture changed, becoming more relaxed, or maybe it was defeat.
“You have no idea what you’re kicking up. I didn’t either until it was too late. Do you know I had a full ride? To M.S.U.? And just like that, it went up in smoke.”
I narrowed my eyes. Lindsey was talking two beats ahead of me. “You’re saying Sydney got in the way of your scholarship?”
“Well, it happened the very next day after I tried to talk to him. Didn’t feel like a coincidence. So here I am slinging beers, just like Coach said I’d be. He wins. Even dead. He wins. And I’m done letting him. I need you to just leave me alone.”
“Lindsey, Coach D can’t hurt you anymore. You know that, right?”
Her tears finally fell. “Yes. He can. They all still love him out there. Open your eyes, Ms. Leary. I can’t help you. I’m sorry.”
The door opened behind me and another waitress popped her head out. “Linds, you need to get back in here. You’ve got four tables asking for you.”
Before I could stop her, Lindsey Claussen brushed past me. I felt like I’d just taken one step forward and one step back. But with just four months before Aubrey’s scheduled trial date, time was literally running out.
I made my way back into the bar. The crowd near the flat screens roared as the main event got underway. They seemed unusually raucous. The sound of breaking glass came from my left. Then the sea of bodies shifted, pressing back against the bar.
Scotty Teague, the bartender, reached up and started ringing a gold bell suspended above him. Long ago, he’d been the one to call the house when someone needed to come and pick up my drunken father. More than once, Joe or I had driven the truck down here to pick him up even before either of us were licensed.
“Break it up!” someone yelled. It seemed the MMA bout had inspired a couple of the drunks.
“Kiss my ass!” A familiar voice rose above the chaos and my heart fell.
The crowd parted and two combatants stumbled out of the circle. One had a height advantage, but his opponent was more nimble on his feet. The tall guy took a hard swing, landing a blow straight across the shorter guy’s chin. A string of blood arched from his mouth and splattered right across my chest.
“Son of a bitch,” I muttered for the second time tonight. I looked up. It was my brother, Matty. Matty took a ready stance, fists up, ready to pound the other drunk right back to the ground. His eyes were glassy though, and he swayed to the side.
“You!” Scotty Teague held a baseball bat and pointed it right at me. “He’s yours, ain’t he? He’s finished. I told him last week he was on his last chance.”
Matty’s opponent started to rally. He lunged at Matty, catching him square in the chest. Matty tripped over his feet and landed hard on his ass. I grabbed a pitcher of beer from a nearby table and poured it over both of them.
Matty tried to stand and slipped in the liquid. I pulled a fifty-dollar bill out of my wallet and flicked it at Scott. “This cover him?”
“For tonight,” Scott said. “But I meant what I said. He crosses that threshold again I’m having his ass thrown in jail. Probably do him good.”
“Get up,” I hissed at Matty. He was just now figuring out it was me.
“Hey, ssssiisss,” he said. “I won!”
“I don’t even wanna know.” I tried to hook my arm under his and haul him up. My heel slid in the beer and I nearly went down in it. Another arm caught me just in time and pulled me back.
“Allow me.” Eric Wray let go of me and grabbed Matty by the shoulder. Eric pulled him up like he weighed nothing. Luckily, Matty’s blood alcohol level kicked in and he went from angry to mellow.
“You’re a fucker,” he said to Eric, pointing at his nose. But the fight was out of him. Matty shot Eric a lopsided grin.
“Yeah. You’re not the first to point that out,” Eric said.
“You okay?” he asked me.
“Yeah. I just ... can you help me get my brother’s sorry ass to my car?”
“Don’t plan on driving him home.” A shout came from the bar. It belonged to one of Matty’s high school friends, Chris Browning. He looked just about as drunk.
“Why’s that?” Eric asked. Matty had more or less sunk into Eric’s side and was letting him walk him toward the door.
“Tina threw him out again last night,” Chris answered. “Lucky asshole, that woman is a cu—”
“Save it!” I yelled, cutting him off.
“Lead the way,” Eric said.
I mouthed thank you as Eric dragged my brother out of the bar.
Chapter 19
Matty didn’t struggle much as Eric slid him into the passenger seat of my car and strapped him in. By the time we shut the d
oor on him, he was already snoring.
“Thanks again,” I said. “You seem to have a knack for showing up at the damndest times.”
Eric leaned against the car. A snort from Matty drew his attention for a moment, but when my brother slumped back against the window, Eric turned back to me.
“Small town. And I’ve noticed drama has a way of following you around.” He ran a hand through his thick dark hair making the front stand up at a peak. I had the urge to smooth it over but caught myself. The last thing I needed was Eric Wray getting the wrong idea. Plus, regardless of his wife’s medical status, Eric Wray was a married man.
“I suppose so. I’m not asking for it though.”
The corner of Eric’s mouth lifted in a smile. “You sure about that? I saw you talking to Lindsey Claussen. Then she ran out the back door looking pretty upset. Anything I can help you with?”
He was good. He looked harmless enough with that small-town charm and aw-shucks swagger. But Eric Wray had the mistrustful eye of a career cop, and he was pumping me for information. There was no such thing as innocent small talk where this guy was concerned.
“Nope,” I said. “You’ve helped plenty. I better get my brother somewhere less ... uh ... controversial so he can sleep it off.”
“Doesn’t sound like you can take him home,” Eric said.
This got my back up. It was an old defense mechanism. Matty could be a shithead, but he was my shithead. It may not exactly be judgment in Eric’s tone, but my overprotective-big-sister instincts kicked in.
“Well, like I said, you’ve helped plenty. I can take it from here.”
“He gets pretty rough sometimes,” Eric said. “I’d feel better if you let me follow you.”
I bit my bottom lip. I wanted to tell Eric to back off. Tell him he didn’t know what the hell he was talking about. Hell, with the gossip mill running strong in this town, Wray likely already knew about Matty’s temper tantrum at my office a few weeks ago.
“I appreciate you looking out. Really. But I’ve got this. I’ve been handling drunken Leary men since I was little. I’ll let him sleep it off on my couch.”
Eric chewed the inside of his cheek, considering my speech. Something sparked in his eyes, but whatever it was, he left it unsaid.
“Just ... have a care, Cass. I don’t want to see you get hurt.”
“We talking about my brother or something else?”
Eric shrugged. “He’s a good man. Or can be. Matty. He sure tries awful hard. Did he ever tell you I tried to get him in with the D.P.D?”
“Um ... no. He didn’t mention that. When?”
“Two, maybe three years ago. He got pretty far ... then …”
Eric’s voice and gaze wandered off. He didn’t have to finish the sentence, I knew where it would lead. Where it always led with my dad and Matty. None of them could ever get past their demons long enough to change their lives.
“Thanks for that too, then,” I said. I dug my keys out of my purse. “I really need to get him home. I’ll see you around, Eric.”
He nodded. “You let me know if you need anything.” The front door of Mickey’s swung wide open and the roar of the fight crowd rose.
“Better get back in there,” I said. “Scotty might need more help than I do if that fight goes the wrong way.”
“Yeah,” Eric said, pushing himself off my car. I stuck out a hand to shake his. He smiled down at me and took it. Then he headed back into the bar, leaving me to finish cleaning up Matty’s mess.
Chapter 20
I never even had to call Joe. It was like we had some sort of Leary family bat signal. By nine o’clock the next morning, I heard his truck door slam shut and he made his way up the stairs.
Matty was still sleeping it off on the couch. I had a pot of coffee brewing. I swung the side door open before Joe could knock.
“Shit,” Joe said as he stepped inside and saw Matty face down on the couch. I meant to put him in the back bedroom but didn’t quite have the muscle.
“Tell me it’s not true,” I said, pouring myself a cup of coffee. Joe stayed in the foyer, hesitant to come in all the way.
“Jesus, which thing?”
“Tina,” I said, blowing over the steam in my cup. I held up an empty mug for him. He still hadn’t come fully inside.
“You waiting for an invitation?” I asked. Joe gave a furtive look over his shoulder. I leaned down so I could see out the side window. His truck was still running and my niece Emma was in the front seat looking glum.
“Yeah. I know the timing on this sucks, but I was kind of hoping I could drop Emma off to stay with you for the weekend.” Joe looked back over his shoulder.
“Oh for Pete’s sake. Tell her to come inside. You both look miserable and Matty’s eventually going to wake up. Let’s deal with one crisis at a time, shall we? Katy throw you out too?”
Joe shrugged. “Not exactly. She and Emma got into it last night. I got her out of the house to avoid the ultimatum I know is coming.”
Poor Joe. I loved his wife Katy, truly. She’d helped straighten Joe’s shit out and for that I’d be forever grateful. She was rigid though. He’d never had someone to help him set healthy boundaries in his life. But Emma was a problem between them. She reminded me so much of my sister Vangie. Stubborn, forceful. Moody as hell. But she was whip-smart and gorgeous. It would take everything Joe had to keep Emma straight. She was a master at playing her stepmother off my brother.
“I’ve got a job in Chelsea this weekend. I can’t really take her with me.”
I stepped around Joe and opened the side door. “Emma, come inside,” I yelled. Emma’s face brightened a little and I felt that same pang I always did when I looked at her. She was just like Vangie all right. And they were both the spitting image of my mother with dark-blonde, straight hair and eyes that burned emerald fire.
“Hey, Aunt Cass,” Emma said, giving me a soft smile. She’d grown at least two inches taller than me in the last year or so. I eyed Joe over her shoulder. Emma went straight for the kitchen and poured her own cup of coffee.
We congregated around the kitchen table. “You gonna let him stay here?” Joe asked, tearing a donut in half. They were from yesterday. Miranda had brought them into the office and insisted I bring them home.
“Why not?” I said. “For a day or two anyway. You cool with that, Emma? Looks like we’re going to have a little family reunion weekend. Something tells me you wouldn’t say no to an air mattress either, Joe.”
Joe froze, mid-chew, and I knew I’d hit the nail on the head. Well, shit. Whatever falling out he’d had with Katy over Emma was worse than he was letting on. I knew it would blow over. No matter what else happened, Katy was head over heels in love with my brother. In Matty and Tina’s case, I worried his nine marital lives had probably run out.
“Yeah,” Joe admitted. “Maybe.”
“Don’t blame me,” Emma said, reaching for her own donut. “Katy’s gone psycho this time.”
“Enough,” Joe said. “I’m so sick and tired of the two of you going at it. You might want to try meeting her halfway.”
Emma let out a sound that cleared my sinuses and jarred her Uncle Matty awake. He tumbled off the couch, his hair sticking up at odd angles. “Halfway!” Emma screeched. “Halfway? She took away my phone and my laptop. How am I supposed to get any homework done?”
“School doesn’t start for a week,” Joe said. Emma turned away from him.
Matty walked heavy-footed into the kitchen. His eyes were bloodshot but focused. He sported dark stubble and his shirt was ripped from his little brawl last night. He leaned over Joe and grabbed a donut.
“Ugh,” Emma said, “you stink.”
My brother made a credible impression of a grizzly bear then promptly gave his niece a whisker rub. She squealed again.
“Coffee’s fresh,” I said. “And there’s extra toothbrushes in the downstairs bathroom.”
Our grandmother had always made a point of keeping trav
el toothbrushes and hotel soaps stocked in the guest bathroom. She said she never knew when someone would want to spend the night at the lake house and she wanted to be ready. It was a hard habit to break.
“Got anything stronger than this?” Matty asked as he lifted the coffee pot and reached for a mug from the cupboard.
“Stick with the coffee,” Joe said. “Give us all a break.”
If Emma hadn’t been sitting there, Matty might have gone at him. But she was there and even in his disheveled state, my brother knew to sidestep teenage girl drama when it was right in front of him. He poured his coffee and plunked down on the chair beside me, straddling it backward. He shoved another donut in his face.
“So,” I said. “I don’t suppose I could get you to fix the roof on the shed while you’re here. The rain’s coming in.”
“Can I take the boat out?” Emma asked, hopeful.
“You’re not on vacation,” Joe said. “You’re going to make yourself useful. Rake the beach after you finish your donut.”
I drew my coffee cup up to my face to hide my smile. He sounded just like Grandpa. We’d all heard him say those same words to each of us when we came here looking to escape the drama at home.
God, it was good to have them here. I was sorry that Joe and Matty were having trouble at home. In Matty’s case, he was heading at top speed for a wall that could destroy him. But right now, he was home and he was mine. I couldn’t keep him out of trouble, but like my mother before me, I never stopped thinking I could try.
I wanted it to be easy. At that moment, I wished I could erase all the drama of the last month and the years before. We could just sit here, enjoying each other’s company. The moment I thought it, I realized maybe it could be that easy. Just for one afternoon. Late summer and the sun was already shining. It would be a perfect day on the lake and I craved the strength I drew from these boys. Emma too.
There was a thump at the front door as the mailman slipped my mail through the slot. Two dogs barked down the street. Emma got up and went to the door. She came back with a pile of junk and a small brown package that looked like the kind they send check refills in, though I hadn’t ordered any.
