by David Banner
“Hey hey…” she slowly drug her long nails across his arm. “Not tryin’ to ruffle any feathers here. You’re a good guy and I’m sure you and Michelle know what you’re doing and where you’re going. I was just making an observation, that’s all.”
Ryan took his whiskey glass from her hand and downed the last sip.
Shes right, he thought.
Holding back was something that just came naturally to the man. The thought of giving himself over to another person completely just didn’t sit well. For the better part of his life he’d tried his best to keep himself from getting hurt. Always thinking the most effective way to keep from a losing battle was to simply not fight in one. Of course, maybe he’d been wrong. Maybe not fighting also meant not winning.
“How long are you in town?” He asked.
“I don’t know,” she answered. “I came back to visit Georgie after I heard about the ATV accident.”
“How’s he doing?” Ryan asked. “I haven’t been able to get over there just yet.”
“I stopped by but he was asleep. I hung around and chatted with Jackson for a while. Told him I’d be back later.”
“I need to get over there,” he answered. “I’ve been busy lately and haven’t had the chance to check up.”
“What about Jackson?” She asked. “The two of you were close once.”
“We still are. Like I said, I’ve just been busy. I might head over there later tonight.”
“You be careful,” she stood and turned.
Her beautiful long hair hung low on her shoulders and her tight jeans hugged her hips in a way few women could get away with. It seemed Beverly Blanchard had been keeping herself well in the time she’d been away from the Lowcountry.
“Hey,” he called out. “When you were here a couple of years ago… Weren’t you staying in Watershed Apartments?”
“Yeah,” she nodded. “Why?”
“Ever meet the manager?” Ryan asked. “Jake Jones?”
“Oh my God,” she scoffed, her body reacting as though she’d just had a chill. “I’d forgotten about that guy. What a creep.”
“Creep?”
“Yeah…” she curled her lip. “Something about him just rubbed me the wrong way. He was always looking, always staring and watching. I swear I heard him creeping around in the dark a couple of times. Once I think he even followed me out to the beach.”
“Did he ever get physical?” Ryan asked. “Like try to touch you or hurt you in any way?”
“No…” she shook her head. “You can tell because he’s still alive and all….”
“Right.” The detective chuckled.
“Why you askin’?”
“Just curious,” he assured her. “I’ll catch up with you later.”
“You be good.” She headed for a hightop table along the back wall.
Chapter 14
A fiery sizzle echoed through the kitchen as Ryan dropped a few strips of bacon into the hot pan. Jillian spent years warning him against fatty things like pork, especially so late at night. He couldn’t help but picture her face every time he smelled breakfast, even if it happened to come at ten o’clock in the evening.
He grabbed a spatula and pushed bacon around in the pan, watching as each strip slowly released grease and oil. A small shallow pool began to form and the thin slice meat began to curve and wrinkle in a way that made his stomach growl.
“Bacon is bacon anywhere you go,” his uncle Pauleys words whispered in his mind. “But it’s best on a hot Carolina night.”
He still thought about those nights from time to time, remembering the way his uncle loved comparing anything and everything to the deep south of his home. Back then Ryan had no idea it would rub off on him so much.
He cracked and egg and dropped it into the large pan, watching as it began to slowly solidify. Jillian always hated ‘sunny side up’, preferring scrambled eggs instead. Late night breakfast… the phrase still held so much meaning for the man. He’d spent countless evenings just like this one, though back then he was never the one to actually cook.
He loved the way she looked under the dim evening light. Her long silk robe seeming to catch a breeze even in the stillest of rooms. He would lift her long hair and kiss her neck, taking in the sweet smell of strawberries and cream from her bath.
Those days are gone, he reminded himself. And they ain’t coming back.
The evening, like most other evenings in Lowcountry was hot and humid. His small air conditioning unit struggled to fight through the sticky stick air as he scooped the food onto a plate and headed outside. He hadn’t stepped foot on the rear deck of his houseboat since his uncles heart attack. The striped chair he sat in still lay haphazardly on the floor, next to it a small speckling of dried blood from his uncles fall.
He brushed past it, deciding he would visit his uncle tomorrow. Maybe then he would be a little more open to listening to his nephews advice, Ryan mused. Maybe he would finally realize he didn’t have to go so hard and so fast just because he thought he could.
“You have nothing to prove Pauley….” Ryan tore into a strip of bacon.
His eyes focused on the endless and remarkably still waters stretching out ahead of him. The large full moon reflected perfectly across the nearly still sheet, a perfect mirror image of the night sky. Bacon crunched between his teeth, shattering like glass across his tongue. Sweet and salty flavors filled his mouth, reminding him of the nights he no longer had.
He stretched out his arm and powered on a small radio. Gus Greenfields show as due to air in the next few minutes and he didn’t want to miss it. He and Kit had plans to meet at the station near the broadcasts tail end.
♫♫ Slow change may pull us apart. When the light gets into your heart, baby. Don't you, forget about me. Don't, don't, don't, don't. Don't you, forget about me♫♫
An old eighties song carried through the still air then softly across the water. As though he weren’t already lost in nostalgia enough the music brought him back to his younger days. It wasn’t often he thought about his relationships before Jillian but there were too many memories calling into the night to ignore.
“Beverly Blanchard…” he mustered, remembering a time long ago when he’d heard the same song dancing across the same waters.
She was back now and it seemed, ready to revisit the relationship they’d once had. But Ryan Devereux was already in a relationship, at least on paper. He looked at his phone, wondering how long it had been since he’d called Michelle just to say hello or when she’d last called him to check in on a case.
“Too long…” he sighed.
Like most of his relationships, his time with Michelle had become complicated, nearly too complicated to navigate. It seemed every day gave them cause to move just a little further apart. That each sunrise shed light in a new speedbump in one or both of their lives.
“Got relationship troubles? Wondering what that silence on the phone really meant after you said those three magic words? Stick around for The Gus Stop. Coming up in less than ten minutes. Relationship and love advice from a guy who’s been around the block a few times…”
Ryan finished off the last of his eggs and brought the plate back into the kitchen. He quickly washed it, dried it and placed it back in the cabinet. Dirty dishes were one thing the man couldn’t stand, no matter how upset, angry or busy he was Ryan Devereux never left dishes to be cleaned.
Closing the cabinet door he stopped, thinking he’d heard the sound of soft footsteps outside his door. Ryan jetted backward and ducked into his bedroom. He grabbed his Glock then quickly pulled on a pair of shoes.
He waited, listening for anything.
A shadow passed his window. Someone was outside, perhaps watching him, perhaps armed. The detective placed his back against the wall and slowly inched toward the door.
Living on a houseboat came with a few baked in rules, the most steadfast being that visitors rarely came to the docks unannounced and the ones who did were almost ne
ver welcome. Ryan took a deep breath, the taste of bacon still fresh in his mouth.
The thunder of a single knock ricocheted through the houseboat, beginning in the kitchen, then into the bedroom and finally across the back deck.
♫♫ Sweet dreams are made of this. Who am I to disagree?. I travel the world and the seven seas. Everybody's looking for something.♫♫
The small deck-side radio blared through the still tense air.
“Hello?” Ryan called out.
There was nothing, no answer, no sound of footsteps and no movement. Whoever stood on the other side of his door was either gone or waiting to make their move. He stepped closer, his adrenaline spiking. His heart pounded and his eyes focused as his hand wrapped the silver door handle.
With one swift motion he pulled it open and raised his gun.
A cloud of thick southern air billowed inside, slapping his face as though it were trying to prove a point. He stepped forward, quickly checking his surroundings. No one was around, they’d left no sign. At least thats what he’d thought.
Something tugged at the detectives foot. He looked down and noticed a small bag. Slowly untangling himself he stepped backward, keeping his eyes focused on the mysterious package as he knelt down to look inside.
A torrent of surprise and shock washed over him as he lifted a small photo from the bag. There, sitting at a small streetside café was his daughter. She and her friends sipped coffee and laughed, completely unaware they were being watched.
Ryan quickly dug his hand into the bag only to find more pictures, each one a surveillance photo from the last few days, each one taken without his daughters knowledge of consent. The gym, the park, the beach and the mall. Someone had given over their afternoon to tracking her every move.
With one final burst Ryan tore open the bright green bag. Inside he found a t-shirt. Holding it into the air he saw that it had been cut to shreds. A few stray threads were all that held the small garment together.
Quickly scurrying back to the rear deck Ryan frantically dialed his daughters phone but found no answer. He tried Jillian and then Thomas, each time being met with only ringing and ultimately a voicemail greeting.
He slammed the phone down in anger and headed for his car.
Such a thinly veiled threat could have only come from one place. This was the work of that crooked senator, Ryan thought. This was a retaliation for arresting his daughter. In the back of his mind Ryan knew the chances of anything happening to his daughter tonight were very unlikely. Still, as a father and as a detective he had to follow up. He had to know she was okay.
He tried dialing his wife again and again he got nothing, just the sound of her light sweet voice on the mailbox. He tossed the phone on the backseat and sped out of the parking lot and into the streets.
Instinctively he reached to flip on his siren.
No, he thought.
He wouldn’t cause a scene. He wouldn’t allow himself to fall into this trap. She was fine, both of them were. Surely there was a good reason for no one answering their phone. Perhaps they were outside or maybe they were eating dinner.
“It’s ten thirty,” he muttered.
Ryan’s phone rang. It was Kit. He would call her back, he thought.
She would have told him to stay calm, that he needed to keep his cool in this situation. She would have been right.
“Later…” his fingers drummed the steering wheel as he watched the traffic light turn green. “After I see my daughter.”
Chapter 15
“Jill,” Ryan’s fist pounded hard against the door. “Jill….”
“Ryan, what are you-” she frantically opened the door.
“Where’s Carly?” He asked, brushing past her and entering the house.
At first glance everything looked completely normal. Nothing was out of place and no one appeared to be in danger. Though, he didn’t see his daughter right away. Of course Jillian would have known if something were wrong, right?
“In the living room,” she closed the door behind him. “Why? What’s going on?”
“Dad?” Carly entered the kitchen. “What’s wrong?”
Seeing her face gave him an immediate sense of relief. Kissing his daughter on the forehead Ryan then brushes past her and into the living room. Thomas Kent was sitting on the couch with a blanket over his lap. Next to him a large bowl of popcorn and a half empty bottle of wine. Small bunches of throw pillows lay on the floor in front of the television. He knew immediately they belonged to his daughter.
Since her earliest days of watching movies Carly Devereux most enjoyed snuggling on the floor with a woven blanket and enough throw pillows to drown herself in. Thomas’s lips began to part as he spotted his wife’s ex-husband standing in his house.
Ryan didn’t wait for the mans question. Instead he headed upstairs, carefully making his way down the hallway and toward his daughters bedroom. Keeping his gun held high in the air Ryan opened the door.
After a quick check in the closet and under the bed he made his way back downstairs and finally took a deep cleansing breath. Jillian took the ripped bag from the doorside table and began sorting through it. Her eyes widened as she flipped past picture after picture of their daughter.
“Do you recognize this?” Ryan pulled the shredded t-shirt from the bag and handed it to his daughter.
“I have one like this,” a look of confusion befell her face. “Same size too.”
“Are you sure this isn’t it?”
“I’m sure,” she nodded. “I saw mine this morning. It’s hanging in my closet.”
“Go up and check.” Jillian answered.
“Mom, it’s there. I just-”
“Go check.” She repeated.
With a heavy sigh and a roll of her eyes Ryan’s daughter handed him the shirt and marched upstairs. Ryan locked eyes with Jillian. She was breathtaking in so many ways. So different now than she had been in their youth yet somehow much better. She’d aged like fine wine, sweeter, darker and easier than anything he ever saw coming.
“You going to tell me what’s going on?” She folded her arms across her chest.
A simple white cotton shirt hugged her frame and her hair was wrapped in a messy bun. There was no lipstick on her lips, no eyeshadow on her lids. No makeup at all yet her beauty could rival any red carpet look. At least in Ryan’s eyes.
“Someone dropped these off at my door,” he answered. “A few minutes ago. I couldn’t get you on the phone.”
“It’s movie night,” she shrugged. “We put our phones away. Thomas doesn’t like the distraction.”
Thomas…
The man just wasn’t good enough for her. Jillian deserved so much more than someone like him. They had money, sure. He wasn’t abusive or cruel either. But that didn’t mean he was good enough to raise Ryan’s child. The man was full of himself and pompous, completely self-absorbed and always looking to make himself the star of any room. A real man, Ryan thought, stands back and lets his woman take the spotlight. He doesn’t use every available opportunity to outshine and eclipse her.
“You know I don’t like it when I can’t get in touch with you.”
“I know,” she nodded. “But I can’t stay next to my phone forever assuming you may worry. That’s not reasonable.”
“Just keep it with you,” he answered. “Movie night or no. Carly is getting older now. She’ll be going out with friends. You need to be accessible. We both do.”
“What’s with the pictures?” She asked. “And this shirt? Tell me what’s going on. Does it have something to do with the accident? With the boy?”
Ryan looked into her eyes. He hated these times. The times when he was forced to involve his family in the dangers of his work. He held his tongue, not wanting to tell her anything more. Information was a dangerous thing especially when it came to powerful men and their vendettas.
“Something like that.” Ryan answered. “I don’t want you to worry about it. Just keep a watch out.”
> Ryan stepped forward. His hands accidentally grazed his wifes as he passed her and headed for the refrigerator. Normally he wouldn’t consider going into someone else’s food but this wasn’t just anyone’s home. This was Jillian’s, the woman he’d been closer with than anyone else in his life, the woman who knew every single thing about him.
“It’s not there,” Carly returned. “It was there this morning, I saw it. I know for sure. How did you get my shirt? And what happened to it?”
The young girl turned to her father.
“I don’t want to get into it now.” Ryan answered.
“And what about these pictures?” She asked. “Is someone following me?”
He didn’t respond.
“Dad,” she snapped. “Is someone following me?”
“Carly,” her mother injected. “Go back to the living room with Thomas.”
“Mom, are you-”
“Carly. The living room. Go.”
In a huff the young girl turned on her heels and headed out of the kitchen. She was growing up right before his eyes. At times Ryan still had trouble believing she was really the same little girl who once wore pigtails and princess dresses out to dinner.
Where had all of the time gone, he wondered.
“Do I need to be worried?” Jillian asked.
“No,” he slowly uncapped a bottled water. “I think he’s just trying to scare me up. He threatens my daughter after I arrested his. That kind of thing. I doubt much will come from it.”
“And the chief? Has he heard about all of this yet? I can’t imagine him taking it too well.”
“Actually,” he began. “Lately he’s… mellowed.”
“Really?”
“Hard to believe, I know.” Answered the detective. “He’s leaving.”
“Leaving?” Jillian asked. “Chief Evans? No way.”
