“Wish we’d been able to go to Disney with Mom, way back when,” Sean said. “She would’ve loved it. Loved taking us there.”
Liam shook his head. “I don’t remember her well enough.” The truth was, he remembered his foster parents much better than his mom, but they’d never have taken the kids to Disney. Too far, too expensive, too much chaos. They’d liked things controlled and predictable.
“She’d have loved it,” Sean repeated. It seemed like his happiness as a family man had made him mellow toward the mother they’d lost. At other times in the past, Sean had suspected their mom to have abandoned them on purpose, but these days, he focused on the good times of their childhood.
“Well.” Liam checked up and down the street and then urged Sean on. “C’mon, I’m on patrol. But I’m glad one of us did it. Found someone, I mean. Made a family.”
“You can do it, too,” Sean said. “I’m not gonna lie, figuring out how to be with a woman isn’t easy with how we grew up. But man, it’s worth it.”
“I can see that.” Liam nodded at Sean’s phone full of pictures. It would be worth any amount of effort to make that happen, to get that happy.
They came to the section of the boardwalk where a few rowboats were docked, glanced at each other, and stopped by unspoken agreement, looking across the bay and into the bayou.
“Think the twins have forgotten?” Liam asked. Their biological father had kidnapped them here and gone off into the swamp, and it had taken everything Sean, Cash and Liam had—and a lot of help from the community, and a lot of prayer—to get them, and Anna, safely home.
“They’ve started forgetting. Anna and I never will.”
All the more reason Sean and Anna deserved happiness. They’d been through a lot, both of them.
They walked past Rip Martin, who was leaning against the wall of Jones Drugstore, playing a mournful tune on his harmonica. A hat was beside him, and he started to hold up a sign with his free hand—veteran, four kids, it said, only half of which was true—but then when he saw Liam, he put the sign facedown over the hat and continued playing, not meeting Liam’s eyes.
“Did I hear right, that the city council passed an ordinance against panhandling?” Sean asked. He reached into his pocket and dropped a ten on top of Rip’s sign, giving the old man a smile and a wave. Rip returned a salute.
“Yeah, they passed it,” Liam said. “Way it came out, they made it illegal to give to anyone within ten feet of a road. Good thing I happened to be looking the other way.”
“Rip’s been here forever. He doesn’t cause any trouble.”
“You and I both know that. But there are those who say he scares off the tourists.”
As if on cue, a group of people came out of La Florentine, the only truly fancy restaurant in Safe Haven.
They were talking and laughing loudly, and one of the women stumbled, then caught herself on the arm of the man beside her.
“I better leave you to do your job,” Sean said.
“Later.” Liam waved and then walked toward the crowd, not aggressive, not like they were in trouble, just checking things out.
At the center of the crowd was Buck Mulligan. Great.
And now that Liam was close enough to recognize people, he realized that most of the group belonged to the city council. Even better.
He turned back and took a few long steps to where Rip sat. “You best be moving on,” he said.
“Wha—” Rip looked to the noisy group on the street and nodded. “Thanks, bro.”
Liam held out a hand and helped Rip climb to his feet. The man was in his sixties and had lived a hard life, and it showed. But he’d also served in Vietnam, which was almost certainly why Sean, also a veteran, gave him money every time he passed by.
After Rip was steady and gathering his things, Liam turned back toward the crowd outside La Florentine, which didn’t seem to be breaking up. Except the woman who’d been stumbling; she and a well-dressed man were climbing into a car.
“It’s Mr. Shoe!” Buck yelled, looking toward Liam.
There was an outburst of laughter, abruptly shushed. As if they were all in on an ongoing joke, and Liam knew exactly what it was about: the red shoe he had turned in as evidence earlier this morning, after a lot of wavering. He didn’t want to involve Rocky, but he couldn’t in good conscience hold on to something he knew intuitively had some bearing on the case. He’d swallowed his pride and explained to Buck that the shoe was similar to one Rocky had, one that Josiah recognized. That he might want to talk to them both again about whether they’d been near the water on the evening the car had gone off the dock.
He didn’t know what spin Buck had put on the story, but obviously, no one was taking it seriously. Taking him seriously. Liam’s chance to become police chief was slipping away.
His face felt hot, but there was no time for embarrassment. The woman who’d been stumbling around was now behind the wheel. “Hey!” he yelled, and ran toward the group and the diagonally parked Audi.
Which backed out with a screech and...bang! Promptly hit the car parked across the street.
The Audi rebounded a few feet and jerked to a stop. The man in the passenger seat got out, yelling.
By now Liam was close enough to see that the driver had put her head down on the steering wheel. Her shoulders were shaking. Laughter or tears?
A few people from surrounding restaurants and shops were outside now, looking at the two cars.
Liam went directly to the drivers’ side and rapped on the window.
The woman’s head was still down, shoulders still shaking.
“Open the window!” her passenger, presumably her husband, bawled into the car.
The woman jolted upright, looked at her husband and then, probably based on his excited gesticulations, looked over at Liam and then opened the window.
“Ma’am,” he said, “step out of the vehicle.” He opened the door and, when she didn’t show signs of obeying, he took her arm and gently pulled. “Come on, ma’am, I don’t want to have to cuff you but I will.”
“Get out, Misti, geez!” The husband came around and tugged at her, too, much more roughly than Liam had.
“Get her over to the curb,” he said to a couple of the bystanders who appeared to be her friends. Then he assessed that the husband was sober. “Let’s get this vehicle out of the middle of the street, and then we’ll talk.”
The husband squealed into the parking space, making his friends laugh. Someone had even brought out drinks for the crowd.
Liam sighed. This was his least favorite type of police work. And it was almost worse when it was neighbors rather than folks from out of town. They didn’t even have the excuse that they were on vacation.
Buck strolled over and put a patronizing hand on Liam’s back. “I’ll handle it from here,” he said. He wore civilian clothes, a sport coat and dress pants, and he smelled of alcohol.
“No problem,” Liam said. “I’ve got it.”
“You tend to overreact. I’ll handle it.”
Liam restrained his impulse to slug the jerk. And since when did Buck have that kind of authority? “There’s physical damage. There’s going to be paperwork and insurance companies involved. You’ve been drinking.”
The husband came over. “Let’s just handle this quietly,” he said. “No need to do a report. I’m going to pay for any repairs.”
“When an accident happens, sir, we need to file a report.”
“Look,” Buck said, “we all bend the rules a little.” He looked pointedly down the street toward where Rip had been sitting. “You take care of your friends. Let me take care of mine.”
Which sounded just like a corrupt small-town department. He opened his mouth to protest.
The restaurant’s doors opened. Yasmin and a couple of her friends came out.
At the sam
e moment, Tom Turner, head of city council, walked over and patted Liam on the back. “I’ll fix it with the chief, if you’re worried about that,” he said.
Yasmin wore an old-fashioned dress, black-and-white polka dots. It hugged her figure where it mattered and ruffled out at the bottom and the top. She looked girly, more so than usual.
And utterly gorgeous.
The three women stopped, and it didn’t take long for a couple of men from Buck’s group to go over and start talking. Undoubtedly explaining what had happened.
The explainer was laughing, and one of Yasmin’s friends chuckled.
Yasmin didn’t laugh. Instead, she looked his way, her expression concerned.
“See? There’s no more to do here.” Buck waved a hand. “Carry on with your beat.”
“Great idea,” Tom said, slapping Buck on the back. “I’ll fix it with the chief.”
“And I’ll make sure he—” he pointed at the husband “—pays for the car,” Buck said. He looked directly at Liam. “Sometimes, we handle our cases a little on the down low, right?”
Liam clenched his teeth to keep himself from calling them all on being jerks. His heart raced with anger and apprehension, too. Pretty likely Buck was referring to the night of the murder, when Liam hadn’t reported his suspicions.
Tit for tat. But Liam didn’t like it one bit.
He documented everything and then phoned the chief. Ramirez sighed heavily into the phone. “Let her go,” he said finally.
“Yes, sir.” Liam clicked off the call, told the drunk woman she was free to go and headed back to the station with a very sour taste in his mouth.
* * *
YOU’RE WORTHLESS.
It was the middle of the night, and Yasmin tossed and turned in the grips of a vivid dream.
No one believes anything you say.
She sat up in bed, heart racing so fast she thought she might explode or pass out. She looked around her bedroom, moonlight streaming in through the open window. All the familiar shapes slowly came into focus.
It had just been a dream.
She hugged her knees to her chest. That voice had seemed so real, so terrifying. She hated nightmares. And even knowing that Josiah and Rocky were both in the house, and Liam was just across the yard, she still felt scared.
You’re fat and worthless. You should quit your job. Send Rocky and Josiah away.
She sucked in an audible gasp. Pinched the backs of her hands. Was she still asleep?
Stay away from Liam. No one will ever believe you.
Yasmin pressed her hands to her mouth and pulled her knees tighter, a ball of a person.
She was hearing voices. Having delusions. And it was terrifying.
Oh Joe, I’m sorry for not understanding before.
The voice sounded so real.
She sat for a long time, but the voice didn’t replay. A huge stone pressed down on her. She could barely summon the strength to go get a glass of water.
When she finally did, she found Josiah in the kitchen, opening and closing cupboards. He turned when she came in, looked at her and tilted his head to one side. “You okay, sissy?”
“Not really.” She went to him, wrapped her arms around him, and he submitted to it, even patted her back a little. When she let go, he sat down so he was more on her level. “What’s wrong?”
“What do your voices sound like, in your head?”
He stared at her. “They don’t want me to talk about them.”
“Is it real? Something you can actually hear?”
He nodded. “Sometimes they argue. Sometimes they won’t shut up.”
This was hard. “Do they tell you what’s wrong with you?”
“Like what?”
She bit her lip, hard enough to hurt. “Did they ever say you were ugly and worthless?”
Surprise registered on Josiah’s usually impassive face. “No, never,” he said slowly. “My voices are good. Or just...loopy.”
That was a relief, at least. “I’m glad your voices are good,” she said. “Because you’re good.” She gave him another hug and then headed upstairs to her room.
That voice had been so audible. She could swear there was someone in the room with her, but no one had been there.
She was starting to develop Josiah’s condition herself. Not only that, but the voice in her head had told her no one would believe her. About what?
She got into her room, closed the door quietly, sat down on her bed. Her breath came in shorter, faster bursts. Her hands gripped and ungripped the sheets, and she realized she was fidgeting just like Josiah so often did.
Would she hear it again?
Right now, she didn’t feel compelled to do what the voice had told her to do. Quit her job? Send Rocky and Joe away? She wouldn’t even consider it.
Thankfully, the voice had only spoken a couple of times, and now was silent. But that could change. Maybe this was how it started.
She grabbed her phone, Googled “How does schizophrenia start?”
Withdrawal from friends and family. When was the last time she’d done something with her friends? Well, last night, actually. But before that, hadn’t she been pulling back?
Drop in performance at school or work. Hmm. She’d just finished writing a major grant proposal for the women’s center, but it had been an uphill climb. She hadn’t felt her usual enthusiasm, and she didn’t feel at all confident that they’d get the grant.
Trouble sleeping. Well, considering that it was 3:00 a.m. now and there wasn’t a chance she’d go back to sleep tonight—check.
Irritability or depressed mood. Anyone, especially Josiah or Rocky, could attest that Yasmin was plenty irritable.
Lack of motivation. She blew out a breath. There’d been a time when she was brimming with energy to accomplish great things at the women’s center. Before that, she’d been the head of the education club in college, and involved in volunteer outreach to poor kids in Charleston.
Now...even the thought of that kind of involvement made her tired.
Strange behavior...well, that was a matter of opinion. And she definitely wasn’t abusing substances. But she’d checked yes to five of the seven symptoms. And she’d heard voices. A voice. Telling her to do something clearly awful and wrong.
Her shoulders were tight, practically up around her ears, but she tried to get a grip on herself. Take action, her father had always said. It’ll make you feel better, whatever the problem.
Take action. Later today, she’d go to the library and find out more. Get Miss Vi to help her. Knowledge was power.
Her dreams of having a husband and child had already burst and disappeared, like soap bubbles. She’d been sad.
But there must have been a tiny part of her that had hoped she was wrong, hoped she could build a family life. Now that hope was gone.
She lay down on her side, buried her face in her pillow and wept.
* * *
THE NEXT MORNING, after a sleepless night, Liam washed his face and took a cup of coffee out on the porch. He couldn’t believe what he’d seen last night, and yet there it had been.
There had been someone in Yasmin’s bedroom. Someone who had climbed down the rose trellis.
After the encounter with Mulligan and the city council, he’d been wakeful, and he’d slipped out onto the little stoop outside his apartment, late, being quiet so as not to wake up Rio. He’d seen Yasmin’s lights go on at 3:00 a.m., had seen her silhouette downstairs, moving around her kitchen.
And then he’d seen a shadowy figure climb down out of her bedroom, half illuminated in the cloudy moonlight. He’d tried to hold back the sick feeling inside himself, but he was pretty sure the man had been Buck Mulligan. Meaning, Buck and Yasmin were involved again.
Liam kicked hard at a stone, and it went flying up to ping against one
of the porch steps of Yasmin’s house. Good. Hopefully it had dented it, ruined the paint.
How could she do it? How could she go back with a suave dingbat like Mulligan? Only days after she’d kissed Liam like she meant it?
She’d made a fool of him for a second time, and he felt like giving her a piece of his mind. But even more than Yasmin, he mostly blamed Mulligan. Him, Liam would like to punch.
Put that together with how arrogant and sure of himself Buck had acted last night outside the restaurant, and Liam’s chances of building himself a decent life here in Safe Haven were getting more and more slim.
His chances of being police chief, of keeping Safe Haven a safe place, especially for women at risk, was pretty much biting the dust.
He chugged the rest of his coffee and brought Rio out. He’d like to go for a run, avoid people and lick his wounds in privacy. But he’d promised to spend the day with his brothers, getting breakfast and then fishing out at Ma Dixie’s.
Rocky was in Yasmin’s yard, looking at something on the ground. The boy wore an old T-shirt and jeans, the clothes he’d come in. He definitely needed to do some shopping before school started.
“Hey, buddy,” he said, strolling over. “What’s up?”
“There was someone in the house last night,” Rocky said. “I’m looking for footprints. And I found one. Look!”
Rocky studied the plain tread, a man-size boat shoe, most likely. Liam studied it, too, just to be companionable.
“Do you think it was a thief?” Rocky asked eagerly.
“I doubt it, son.” Liam blew out a sigh. No reason for Rocky to hear the details of why a man might visit a woman in her bedroom at night. And it was a little weird that Buck was climbing out Yasmin’s window instead of using the stairs and front door like a normal, adult man. Maybe they got off on that. Or maybe they were trying to hide their relationship from Josiah and Rocky.
Yasmin and Josiah came out the front door then, and although they glanced over toward Rocky and Liam, they didn’t stop to chat. Which shouldn’t be a surprise. Yasmin was probably preoccupied thinking about her new boyfriend. Her new-old boyfriend.
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