by Freya Atwood
Hands in pockets, shoulders slumped. A shrug. “Just doing my job. Pretty obvious this isn’t a regular break in. You don’t wanna tell me. Don’t tell me.”
He brushed past me and headed back to the stairs. As he descended the stairs I lashed out, kicking at the wall and leaving a dent in the plasterboard. I heard his tread on the stairs stop. I followed, trying not to look into my room as I passed it.
“How long will it take your CSI team to finish?” I called after him.
When I reached the stairs I saw that he had stopped at a bend in the stairs and was looking up at me, waiting. “Couple of hours. Then I’d like you to go through the house and inventory your stuff. Let me know anything that’s missing.”
He resumed his descent just as a commotion arose at the door.
“I live here!” Bryan’s voice.
“You don’t have any ID so you’re just gonna have to wait for the detective.”
“Mom! Are you in there? This jackass won’t let me into my own house!”
“Bryan! I’m here! It’s OK, officer. That’s my son.” I called out, hurrying down the stairs.
Bryan burst in, looking around wildly. His gaze landed on the message daubed onto the wall and skipped off again. He looked up at me.
“Mom! What the hell is going on here!”
I reached Bryan and caught him in a hug before he could stop me. “Thank God you weren’t here.”
Franco stood at the foot of the stairs, watching with sharp eyes in a face that looked like it was about to fall asleep.
“We had a break in.” I began to explain. “Someone saw a…Actually, Detective, who did call you?”
Shrug. I wanted to slap his unconcerned face. “Anonymous. Call came in from a cell phone. Male voice. No name. Said he had seen someone breaking in.”
“Where did they get in?” I asked.
“Out back. Forced a window.”
Those eyes were on me again, seeing into me. He was waiting for me to catch up. “But our backyard is enclosed. Fences and trees. You can’t see into it except from the house to either side.”
“And the call wasn’t made by any of your neighbors. We checked.”
Everything about this was wrong. The message. The level of violence directed at my possessions. The anonymous call that could only have come from the perpetrator himself. And one name kept going through my mind. Tommy DeLuca. He’s out. He’s a fucking psycho and he’s out!
Chapter 33
“Did they get much?” Bryan asked, looking into the den, then moving to the kitchen.
“We don’t know yet, Bryan. We have to wait for the forensics team to finish before we can go through the house.”
“The computer’s still there. And the TV. Doesn’t look like he took much.” Bryan said.
“Who?” Franco replied.
Bryan looked at him for a moment. “I don’t know. Wouldn’t a burglar go straight for things like that?”
“Would he?” Franco asked, apparently innocently.
Bryan looked away, face reddening. He knew Franco was either making fun of him or was suspicious. He didn’t know how to react. My anger boiled over.
“Detective Franco, I’m not happy with your conduct. This is a traumatic experience for us. We don’t have anywhere else to go and some psycho has apparently targeted us. Me, actually!” I raged. “I’m not getting a whole lot of support from the police here!”
Franco’s aimless facade dissolved. He smiled around gritted teeth and pointed at me.
“Frank Hudson was shot leaving a property in Seattle where he assaulted a woman before robbing her, leaving her unconscious in her own house. He was a dangerous man and you.” He punctuated the word with a stabbed finger. “Used a legal technicality to keep him out of jail.”
There was feral anger on his face, eyes wide. I stepped up to him, feeling Bryan move to get between us and pushing him aside.
“You didn’t have the evidence, detective. It wasn’t a loophole. It was a fucking chasm. Your evidence did not prove Frank Hudson was guilty. If a member of that jury was the owner of this house, would you be treating them like this?”
“Yeah! I would. If Hudson had been locked away, that woman wouldn’t be so scared of the dark that she has to sleep with the lights on. So, yeah, you and everyone who voted Not Guilty would get the same treatment!”
I wanted to slap him, wanted to knee him in the balls and punch him in the face. Rage boiled in me. We were practically toe to toe. I could smell his stale tobacco breath.
“I want another detective assigned to this case.” I bit off the words.
“Fine.” Franco shot back, stalking out of the house. “Good luck with your stalker.”
I took a deep shuddering breath and turned to Bryan. He looked hunted. He had retreated to the wall and was looking around with darting glances.
“It’s OK, Bryan. This is probably some ex-cop. Someone just like that asshole.” I said, pointing out to where Franco was lighting a cigarette.
“Sure.”
I stepped closer to him, taking hold of his arms and looking him straight in the eye.
“The only other person I can think of who hates me this much…Is your father.” Bryan straightened, pushing himself away from the wall and trying to shrug me off. I held on though. “Bryan, tell me the truth. Does he know where we live?”
“No!” The reply was instant and heated.
“I won’t be mad. Not at this stage. It’s too late for that. Just be honest. Does he know where we live?” I persisted.
Bryan succeeded in shrugging me off this time and made for the stairs. “I told you. No! He’s not like you think.”
I followed him, noticing Franco looking back into the house through a haze of cigarette smoke. He had recovered his temper quickly. Bryan was heading for his room but I caught him at the door.
“I think he took something from your room. Whoever he was. Don’t go in yet.”
“What did he take?”
“That drawer was open.” I pointed.
Bryan’s eyes went wide and he shoved me aside to get in. He dropped to his knees in front of the drawer, wrenching it out and turning it upside down. Then he scrabbled in the space the drawer had occupied. I went into the room, fear chilling my anger. I closed the door behind me and sat beside Bryan on the floor. I put out a hand to touch his back but he flinched as though my touch were red hot.
“Bryan, talk to me. What’s got you so upset? What were you looking for?”
“Nothing.”
“Don’t give me that. I deal with liars for a living. I know when I’m being lied to.”
“I’m not lying!”
I sighed, letting my hand drop. He moved to sit with his back to the drawer unit, hands clenched together between his knees, brows drawn in tightly.
“What was in that drawer?” I asked.
“Nothing.” Came the sullen reply.
“So, you realized that nothing had been taken. You looked for nothing, hoping that it was still there. All that for…nothing.” I asked acidly.
“Don’t. Don’t make fun of me. Don’t you dare.” Bryan rasped.
“Then act like an adult for chrissakes!” I lashed out. “Give me some help here! I know you’ve been talking to your father. The man I knew was capable of this. I don’t know who he is now. He could be a fucking pastor for all I know. So, don’t blame me for jumping to conclusions. The one person in this world that I do know is you and…”
“You don’t know me.” Bryan muttered.
“Yeah, I do, actually. I gave birth to you. I raised you. If there’s one person I know. It’s you.”
“You don’t have a clue.”
“Then talk to me!” I yelled. Tears pricked at my eyes. They were partly tears of frustration, partly a mother’s worry. And partly anger.
Bryan remained silent, staring straight ahead. I could see the rage in him that he was keeping under control. It twisted his features and reddened his skin. Seeing that doused my t
emper. I sat back against the bed putting my head in my hands. A sob escaped me. Once one was out, it was hard to hold back the rest. Tears came. I wrapped my arms around my head and wept.
Chapter 34
I heard Bryan move and then felt him settle himself beside me. An awkward hand found mine and squeezed.
“I’m your mother. You can’t blame me or punish me for being worried.” I said between sobs. “And you can’t blame me for asking questions when I’m afraid for you. Doesn’t all this mean anything?”
I gestured around me, meaning the break in.
“I’m sorry. Look, Mom. I had some…I used the drawer as a hiding place…it was drugs, OK?” Bryan blurted finally.
I looked at him. I knew he was lying. There hadn’t been drugs in there when I looked and what I had seen was now missing. But Bryan looked anguished, his words, his body language and his face all told me that he was telling the truth. But he’s lying. It sent a chill through me. How did he learn to lie so convincingly? What else is he hiding from me?
I stared at him until he turned his head. Our eyes met. And I could tell he knew. I squeezed his hand.
“Obviously, that’s one of the worst things I could ever imagine but given what’s going on right now, it almost a relief.” I lied. I wiped my nose across the back of my hand then dabbed at my eyes. “Oh god, I need a Kleenex.”
I was playing for time. Bryan just stared at me and I couldn’t face those eyes. They were too penetrating. I’m the adult here. And he’s in big trouble! “What kind of drugs and from where?” I asked, knowing that as a parent I had to ask.
“Pills. Amphetamine. Some weed too.” Bryan replied.
“From where?”
“I can’t tell you that Mom. From some guy.”
“In school?”
“No.”
“Do you think he did this? That word Omerta apparently means keep quiet. Is that a message for you?”
I was giving him an out, a way to explain everything in terms he would find acceptable. I knew he was lying but I wasn’t going to get answers just by demanding. All I would do was push him away. And if his father was on the scene…The last thing I wanted to do was push him towards the DeLucas.
“Do you maybe owe someone?” I asked, as though gently probing, afraid that he would shut down again. I took his hand. It was breaking my heart to distrust him, to be manipulating him. But, he was hiding something and I needed to know. If I have to investigate you like I do in my cases, then I’ll do it. And if you hate me for it, it will kill me, but if it keeps you safe then so be it. I hardened my heart, trying to ignore the wrenching agony at treating my boy like this. It’s for his own good.
“Yeah. I did. But I guess this makes us even, right?”
I nodded, leaning close and kissing his head. “Guess so. Let’s hope so, right? That was all the stuff you had?”
He nodded against my embrace, not saying anything.
“Will you do something for me, pal?” I asked softly. “Don’t tell your…dad. He and his family hate me enough. They’ll blame me.”
“I won’t.”
That was confirmation. I hadn’t asked him outright, just made it sound as though I assumed he had been talking to his father. And his answer told me that I had been right.
“You know what? Since there clearly is no need for me to be setting an example for you anymore, what I need right now is a smoke. Don’t suppose you have any cigarettes, do you?”
He pulled away from me, a look of genuine surprise on his face. “Mom, you have any idea how bad those things are for you?”
I laughed aloud.
It was early evening before the CSI team left. I didn’t see Detective Franco again after our altercation. I called the office and spoke to Kevin. I found myself taking some pleasure in reporting the argument between myself and Franco, and the attitude the policeman seemed to have towards me. Kevin exploded, a sharp sound from his end of the line signaling something hard being thrown across the room. I could imagine him pacing as he spat his promise to report the detective and the hell he was prepared to raise if he didn’t get cooperation from the department.
Then I spoke to Judge Greene about the schedule for the trial, assuring him we could recommence tomorrow. He was a decent man and expressed a willingness to extend the adjournment, from the point of view of ensuring the defendant had the best defense he could get. I assured him that Hunter would be my sole focus. Now I sat in my backyard, on my sixth cigarette of the evening and drinking from an over-sized wine glass I had filled to the brim.
Bryan had gone out for cigarettes, wine and beer while I started to clean up. The message had proved difficult to scrub away so was left half-removed. Fuck it. I just won’t look in that direction. Bryan had sat with me, downing three out of his six-pack. We had managed to create a conversation without actually saying anything, both of us trying hard to pretend everything was normal. Both of us knowing that the other person wasn’t fooled. For now, pretense was all that was holding us together. So we both let it slide.
He went to bed, kissing my cheek and warning me not to smoke any more. I looked at my phone for a long time. Then called Miriam.
“Laura. It’s late. What do you want?”
“Where’s Tommy?” My anger was spent, my tone was icy.
“He’s here. With us.”
“Bullshit. He just ransacked my house.”
“Oh, I get it. You got robbed and my Tommy is out so obviously it must be him. Well, I got news for you honey. He was here all the time.” Miriam was crowing, playing the injured mother.
“What time? I didn’t say when it happened.” I asked, keeping my tone clinical.
“Nah, you don’t get to try that lawyer crap on me. He’s been here every day. And he works in the neighborhood too.”
“I think Bryan told his father where we live. And Tommy paid us a visit. I don’t know where he got the blood. I hope it was his own.” I delivered my words in a matter of fact tone.
“Well, you’re wrong. And if you send the cops over here looking for him, I’ll alibi him.”
Miriam hadn’t even asked what I meant about blood, not even when I said I hoped it was Tommy’s. Either she was telling the truth and Tommy was there or she knew exactly what had happened.
“I’d like to speak to Tommy.”
“He’s sleeping. He works nights.”
“It is night.”
“You can’t talk to him. He doesn’t want to talk to you. All he cares about is his family. That don’t include you anymore. Capisce?”
“I don’t believe you Miriam. I think Tommy is there and I’m going to make sure he goes back to prison where he belongs.”
I ended the call just as Miriam DeLuca began to squawk her outrage. Then I blocked her cell number. I took a fresh cigarette from the pack and lit it. The smoke bit at my lungs but I savored the earthy flavor and the sensation of expelling the long blue stream. It forced my mind to calmness. The act of drawing on the cigarette and blowing out the smoke smoothed the sharp edges of my thoughts. Tomorrow, the DA would be calling her ballistics expert as a witness.
And I was ready to turn his evidence against her.
Chapter 35
I didn’t see Bryan leave for class. He was up and out of the house while I was still asleep. It left a gnawing worry in me. But I had to put it aside, bury it and keep my focus. The drive to the courthouse served that purpose. I used the landmarks of that journey to mentally shrug off my concerns. The sky was gray, the rain driving. My world became one of red brake-lights in front, headlights behind. And in between, water hammering at my windshield.
I called Nic from the car.
“Boss, everything OK?”
“Yes. We had a break in. Judge Greene was very considerate. I told Kevin too. We’re back on track today. Is everything set up?”
“Sure is. I’m there now. So is Halden and her crew. It’s going to be a show and tell day. So, was much taken?”
“Well, I’m ready
. And no, couldn’t see that anything was taken. They must have been disturbed.” I lied, but too glibly. Nic would see through that.
“Right. Well if you need anything, just let me know…”
“I will, thanks Nic.” Too crystal sharp, too brusque. But I didn’t want my equilibrium upset. I could hold it together unless I had to talk to someone about what was happening. That was when the dam always burst. I would make it up to Nic if her feelings were hurt. Right now, I needed my focus.
