His breath blew a few frustrated snorts in the air. “People I know or have been in contact with seem to disappear, Christine. They’re found dead. Two people, Christine, two already. On my drive over here I heard from my mom, who never contacts me, that my father had been in a slight car accident from faulty brakes but will hopefully make a full recovery. I’m just afraid if I get you any closer than you are to me already, something might happen to you, and I cannot risk that.
A click awoke him from his thoughts, and in the slight light of the lamp the door opened into a woman’s shoulder.
“Why didn’t you just tell me that to begin with, Wayne,” she whispered, eyes slightly glossy from his confession, and the drinks she’d had earlier.
His shoulder hitched to his ears, and quietly he shook his head. “Nothing worth mentioning, unless you really want something to work with someone, I guess. You’re the only girl who has ever known things about me, about my family, about my fear of closeness. I think you pressed my panic button getting too close to me, my sore spot. Please don’t give up on me. Please don’t. I happen to think you’re fantastic and wonderful, you’re great in the kitchen, in the bedroom, you have a great sense of humor, and when you’re not around I always wonder what you’re doing.”
“You mean you miss me?”
“Um, yeah, I guess do.”
Chapter Twenty-seven
Brody walked into Rick’s pub at exactly six fifty-eight and placed his hat on a table for four in the middle of the room, and while looking around the empty space, he corrected his tie and polished the sides of his hair. It wasn’t everyday he was having a woman join him for breakfast, but he quickly felt at ease knowing this had nothing to do with romance. Romance he couldn’t do, especially not in the mood of attempting it this morning. But this was not a date, he reminded himself and stopped touching his tie. This was a breakfast meeting, purely business, yet he couldn’t strangle all the butterflies tickling the inside of his stomach.
“Scrambled or fried, Brody?” Rick’s dark haired head poked through the open window going into the kitchen behind the bar.
“Scrambled, with hot sauce if you got any,” he replied and was about to sit when the chair opposite his pulled out and was filled by a tall woman sporting dark short hair, similar to the ones he’d seen in the gossip magazines in line at Harold’s groceries. Though tired, her eyes smiled and her mouth followed the motion, until her hand reached over to quickly caress his.
“Hi, Brody. Good to see you again. How have you been? Missed me?” she teased.
“Um,” he hadn’t noticed until now how out of tune he was interacting with women outside of a crime scene, and found himself mumbling. “I’m doing well, thanks. And you, been about a year since we trained together in Tampa, wasn’t it?”
“Sure was, and God how I miss the weather. How do you stand this, Brody?” Her hand stretched towards the large windows where dusty winds blew leaves from the trees and rustled up gravel and pieces of loose paper from the ground. “It’s cold here, and before you answer, I know you prepared me, but holy hell, this isn’t even winter.”
“With time I assume you get used to it, and for someone who has lived here all their life, this,” his head nodded in the same direction her hand had just taken, “is really just the early chills of fall.”
Plates were placed before them on the table, oozing spicy steam in the air. Rick sure could cook, and she suddenly wondered what other talents he was hiding under that shabby exterior. The three sat down, unwrapped their napkins, and devoured the flavorful morning meal.
“Brody,” Melanie said between bites, “what’s the reason you’ve brought me up here to the chilly part of the country? You know, if it’s nothing good I may just pack up my stuff and leave by this afternoon. I’ve been on leave and need to be reacquainted with danger, the sooner the better.”
“Please make it something good. I could really use the rent money, Brody,” Rick coughed to cover a laugh, and let his knife slice through the soft boiled egg on his plate, letting the yolk run out of its hollow captivity.
Brody swallowed his piece of bacon, then cleared his throat, “Rick, whatever is mentioned here today doesn’t leave this table, understood?”
“Cross my heart and swear on my mother’s grave,” Rick answered with a serious voice, using his knife to make a cross on the fabric cladding his chest, but Melanie noticed a slight twitch at the end of his lips before he made another cut of his egg with the sharp knife.
“So, Brody?” she tore her eyes away from the way Rick’s hands handled his utensils and circled the white porcelain cup filled with something pitch black bordering on what could be ink.
“I’ve been contemplating things lately, events if you will, and I’m in need of a second opinion to tell me to either back away from these assumptions or pursue them,” he said, staring out the window, slowly sipping his cup of coffee.
“Hit me,” she answered resting her elbows on the edge of the table, picking her teeth with one of her short fingernails.
“You got a car?” he asked.
“A bike, but just as good, or even better,” she answered and brought her cup up to her lips to taste the very last drop of bitter darkness. The information didn’t go Rick unnoticed who looked out the window, eyes pinning the Harley parked under a tree.
“I need you to look up a certain doctor’s passing not too far away from here, then continue north for another visit in the small town of Wicheta, where an officer named Luis will hand you the file of the vicious homicide of a woman named Lucy. That’s all. Let me know what you find,” he said before wiping off his mouth with the paper napkins he’d grabbed from the holder in the middle of the table.
She noticed his tall figure as he stood and thanked Rick for the food he’d provided, tipped his hat in Melanie’s direction, and walked out the door. “I’ll text you the addresses, but please be on the road by lunch time,” he said before the door closed, leaving her sitting across from the other man left in the room.
“You done with that?” Rick’s fork motioned for the leftover sausage lying on her plate, but didn’t give her time to answer before his fork went through it to disappear into his mouth. “Just too good to waste, my dear,” he smiled and with large hands grabbed both their plates and left her alone by the table for some wash-up duty in the kitchen.
* * *
“Mary, you need to keep your things out of the way, I almost fell down the stairs,” Wayne shouted up the stairs before heading out of the house for another shift at work. Twelve hours of hard labor, twelve hours of rescuing someone’s life or maybe not taking someone quickly enough to the hospital for a chance of survival. It was a tough job, both mentally and physically, but in his heart he knew he had to do it.
“When are you home?” Mary shouted back from the room she occupied upstairs.
“”Not until seven tonight, but Christine might be over later, or you can call and have her pick you up here. I’ve got to run.” The door opened up to a dark, chilly morning and he wished he was still in bed. Preferably not alone. He’d had progress with Christine, and it seemed she was settling into his life, and with his friends, nicely.
After Jefferson and Raylyn’s daughter was born she’d helped clean their house when life overtook it, she’d made weekly runs of baked goods from the bakery over to Jefferson’s garage outside of town so he could bring it to the girls at home. She’d accompanied Wayne to two lunches where co-workers brought their families for socialization and community development, and she hadn’t complained once. She seemed to be satisfied with their relationship and he had developed a calm he had never before envisioned.
Maybe her helping him with Mary had brought them closer together, or maybe it was the accident that made him see she had a vulnerable side to her he hadn’t yet noticed. Either way, life’s occurrences had once more brought them closer and for once he’d made a promise to himself and to Christine to attempt what they had between them calmly and without anx
iety.
Never had he known a relationship between a man and woman would mean something more than sex, more than casual hook-ups lasting no longer than a week, or that it could be anything different than what his parents had showed him; male authority attached to a grumpy mood, and the occasional blow up on the family.
Chapter Twenty-eight
The weekend at Wayne’s had been specifically spectacular, as he had held a large get-together and summer blow-out for friends close enough to call family. Jefferson had been there with Raylyn and their two girls, one barely two years old, the other hitting the two month mark. Brody had been there of course, in his conservative gray buttoned down shirt, dark blue jeans, and buzzed hairdo, drinking two beers with the accurate amount of time in between to be able to drive home when the party ended. He didn’t bring a date, not that it surprised anyone. It would take a special kind of woman to break down that brick wall holding his personality captive, and if not a woman, maybe a man. No one had really dared to walk down that road with him, but felt it was as good a guess as anything.
Bryce had shown up with someone new, someone young, someone Wayne thought he might have seen in a dating ad online not too long ago. Or maybe it had been on an advertisement for sexually transmitted diseases at the pharmacy, but he sure wasn’t telling Bryce that. She looked modelesque and didn’t look much thicker than Mary, who was much younger. If she stood behind one of the birch trees at the end of the property the trunk would cover her entirely.
He noticed he was staring and turned his head trying to find the woman whose attributes spun his mind around, who hooked him around her finger. The opposite of what he thought he’d wanted; someone who wasn’t paper thin, a woman with breasts others should be envious of, a person who didn’t diet and took a bite out of not only food, but life. And enjoyed it. She was smart, she was witty, and a perfect match in bed. Or in the hallway against the wall, or riding his lap in his truck, or against the countertop in her kitchen. Or maybe even tied to a chair and blindfolded.
Jaycee, the ballsy woman he worked almost every shift with, came stomping down the grassy hill entering his backyard an hour later than intended, as her date had shown up late just to ditch her on her front steps. She’s had bad luck lately, from what he had seen of her face at work. A grumpy mood followed her most Monday mornings, and when he asked how her weekend had been she usually sighed and told him ‘it had been the usual.’ Not that he really knew what that meant.
They rolled in different social settings; his being in town, maybe at Rick’s for some beer drinking, playing pool, or watching sports on the TV by the bar, while hers mostly stayed outside of town. Mainly in the larger city where she could club and meet women like herself; who enjoyed other women. He wished she would be more open about it, not feeling the shame and having to drive across the county for a hook-up. But Primrose Valley was a small town after all, a very old-fashioned small town, where the only woman dating another woman had been old auntie Ruth at the library, who’d written love notes in books about lesbian couples. It hadn’t been until she’d died that people had realized how lonely she must have been, and figured out the reason why her house had not been inherited by her two sons, but been auctioned off for a large profit which her will stated was to be donated to the Pride organization, where young women could benefit from fundraisers and events to meet other women for support and community development.
They’d all gathered in his large backyard at the end of the cul-de-sac where the grass grew green and thick despite the neighbor’s vivacious dog who’d jump the dividing fence attempting to get rid of pent-up energy, then land her over one hundred pound body in the same spot among the perennials he’d planted. Those plants weren’t so persistent anymore, and the landing strip from the dog’s paws had torn up roots from bushes along the wall, allowing them to wilt and their leaves to turn brown.
On some level he was annoyed and usually cursed the dog in the heat of the moment watching her through the large back window when he sat down to eat dinner. Christine had heard him, Mary as well, yet he didn’t want to take it any further then yell at the animal through the open glass. Most days she was obedient. Other days when something seemed to have ticked her off, she’d steal his sneakers from the back porch, jump the fence, and he’d later have to search through the dog house on the opposite side of the barrier to rescue it from further destruction.
There had been many shoes over the years and a dozen bags of potting soil to halt the development of a treacherous hole. Yet he liked the dog. She was friendly, had a love for life and playing ball, and she had always appreciated his food. Something he took great pride in, even if it was just the two of them sharing a sausage or a few slices of bacon in the backyard before he’d toss the ball over the fence telling her to head back home.
“Hey, thanks for the invite,” Brody’s voice cut in where he stood at the back of the lawn, admiring the party. “It’s great being here off duty, sort of anyway. Need to keep a half-eye open on the two friends Bryce brought over.” He tipped his beer at another woman grazing her hand across the striped shirt fitting Bryce’s tall figure like a glove.
“Two?” His eyes shot across the lawn and noticed what Brody had just informed him. “Wow, Bryce with two women. Who would have thought?” Wayne gulped on his beer before eyeing the rest of the party.
“Talking about women, how are things with you and the lady in white over there?” His bottle aimed slightly across the green backyard to strands of lights hanging under the roof of the back porch laminating dusk with their warm glow.
His feet scuffled the grass underneath his sneakers and a grin formed on his face. “It’s good,” he nodded smiling at the figure in white sweeping her long dress across the back porch serving drinks to guests. “We’re doing well I believe. She stays here when she can and when Mary isn’t in one of her moods,” he rolled his eyes. “She’s been different lately, yet I haven’t known her long enough to say if something is bugging her, or if it’s just girl stuff. Being a teenager and all, and living with me. Which can’t be easy, I’m sure. Strange how all this happened so quickly.”
“You know I’m blunt, so I’m just going to come out and say it,” Brody swallowed the beer in his mouth then continued. “Are you sure she is yours?”
“Of course she is. A paternity test doesn’t lie, and it’s honestly not too much of a shock having a kid given the amount of women I’ve slept with. It’s like it was bound to happen and I should have known so, but didn’t care in the moment of the act.”
“Ah, yes, the women. The endless list of female companions. Can’t believe how you did it.”
Wayne laughed slightly and shook his head in part astonishment, part happiness in reliving good memories. “You want to get the hook in the water at the crack of dawn because when the fish are still sleeping they’ll put anything in their mouths. It’s the same way with broads.”
“No wonder you never get more than one night.”
“Hence the long list, doofus.” That earned him a hard punch to the shoulder, his feet tripping a few steps to the left.
“It’s quiet on the other side, by the way,” Brody’s head tilted toward the neighbor’s backyard.
“You’re right about that, in fact, I haven’t heard her in a day or two,” he took a sip from the cold bottle warming in his hand, water droplets running down its neck.
“Heard the dog died,” Mary said casually walking past them on her way back to the house for a refill of food. Wayne coughed suddenly, wiped his mouth, and in one smooth move grabbed Mary’s shoulder before she’d gone too far away from them.
“What are you saying?” he shook his head and noticed his voice stuck in his throat halting a scream of despair over a dog he’d learned to love.
Mary’s dainty feet stood firmly on the ground, her hand picking food pieces off the almost empty plate in her hand. “Yeah, she died yesterday. Some type of animal roughed her up, and the owners found her next to the dog house in the back
of their yard. Too bad, she seemed to enjoy life to the fullest, that dog.” Her hand kept picking slices of cucumber and carrots off the plate.
Wayne’s eyes blurred slightly, and without thinking he handed the bottle to Brody and climbed up the side of the fence until his eyes reached above the top boards and noticed the yard empty. “Damn,” he muttered and put his feet back onto the spot that had always held the least potential of survival, and looked over at Brody.
“You know crime, Brody, what type of animal can take down a dog that size? And you were home,” he pointed at Mary, “and you didn’t hear anything?”
Her head shook while she kept on eating then turned to walk away up the slight hill to the back porch of the house. The porch where he’d admired the heavy dog as agile as a butterfly, a dog with whom he’d shared his food scraps, and occasionally whispered to through the fence at night when the hours seemed too long and too dark.
“Maybe a bear, or a mountain lion. Can’t be really sure. Depends on in what way the body was destroyed. Want me to go over and ask?”
“Oh, please don’t, Brody. I can handle people who get hurt, but animals, no. That’s on a whole other level. A level of innocence and vulnerability to their surroundings. I may talk to the owners later this week if I see them, I don’t want to barge in if they’re mourning.”
“You really liked this dog, didn’t you?” Brody asked, finishing off the last of his bottle, just to check the time on his watch and reach for a bottle of water at the closest table.
“More than I thought I did, apparently.”
The grass crunched behind them swinging them around in curiosity. “Are you boys telling secrets?” Christine smiled and slipped an arm under Wayne’s and leaned in to his chest, sighing pleasantly.
Wayne caught Brody’s eyes, then answered, “No secrets here, babe. How are you doing? Having a good time?” His lips touched her forehead.
Once Upon A Killing (A Gass County Novel Book 2) Page 15
