by Alisha Basso
Still, this whole Todd thing seemed to have affected a bunch of kids. He'd had several phone calls this last week asking whether there could be any mistake about the cause of the boy's death. In a way he'd been kinda glad to hear the ruckus. Until one of them had mentioned some writing on some wall on Facebook. He didn't do any social networking. He knew about it, understood the dangers of it, and hated navigating through the mess. He left that crap to his wife and kids who were all die-hard acronym lovers. How did these terms even start? What were some of them? FB, AIM, WOW, COD and then there was something called Twitter, although what that meant he didn't know.
Sometimes he wished the Internet would go down and kids would pick up a hula hoop or play jacks again. He grinned. His kids would hate that. He enjoyed fishing and hiking, even going to lake for the day. His family, on the other hand… Geesh, it took them an hour to load up all the electronic gizmos they had to take with them.
Now Peter was more like him, solid stock from the old days. He parked the truck in front of the house and walked up to the front door. He knocked, yelling out, "Anyone home?"
***
Jessie winced at the sound of his father's truck pulling into the driveway. The garbage can bounced off his bumper as the truck jerked to a stop.
"Mom, Dad's here. And he's drunk, as usual." Jessie continued to eat his dessert, waiting for the upcoming train wreck of events.
The lid of the garbage can shuffled several feet after Adam's heavy boot made hard contact. Jessie sighed as the screen door slammed opened against the side of the house. He'd broken the damn spring years ago. Jessie had fixed it once. There was no point in doing it again. Not when the cause hadn't changed.
Fists pounded on the wooden door.
Jessie watched his mother rush to the door before he dropped his gaze to the last piece of cheesecake on his plate. Some things never changed. His dad was still a drunk and his mom still loved him. He popped the last bite into his mouth and tossed down his fork. Better see what the hell was wrong now.
"Get out of my way," his father's voice roared through the living room.
Jessie frowned and pushed his chair backwards, rising to his feet as his father headed straight for him.
"Adam, what are you doing? Why are you so upset?"
"Hey, Dad? What's up?"
"Don't you 'hey Dad me.'" Jessie's shirt was grabbed, scrunching into Adam's fist. Adam shoved his face into Jessie's. "What the hell were you doing in my house today…yesterday…whenever?" he shouted.
"What?" Jessie reared back as the boozy fumes wafted into his eyes, making them tear up. "Let go of me."
"I'll let go of you when you tell me what you were doing in Todd's bedroom. You were always jealous of your brother." He roared the words, his face blistering red.
"Adam, stop this," Sandra screamed, tugging ineffectually at Adam's hands. "What are you talking about?"
"Him. This lousy rat weasel that went through my house and his brother's room." Adam released Jessie suddenly. Jessie fell back several feet, gasping for breath, his hand on his throat.
Sandra placed herself between the two men. "What are you talking about?"
Jessie should keep his mouth shut – a little hard to do when all he wanted to do was blast the bastard to shreds. "Asshole," he muttered.
"Jessie, stop that," Sandra admonished. "Don't go adding fat to the fire." She turned to Adam. "And you go sit down before you fall down. What do you mean, accusing your son like that?"
"Whaat?" Adam swayed, his hand going out to Sandra's shoulder.
"Come here and sit down." She half-tugged and half-pulled her ex-husband toward the living room. He dropped to the couch, his head bouncing with the force.
Jessie followed at a slower pace, trying to think of an excuse for his presence. The closer to the truth he could get the better. Then again, why not the truth? He had a right to go into the house. His father had always said he was welcome to go visit anytime.
"Now, Adam, please explain." She sat down on the footstool in front of him.
Adam looked around to point at Jessie. "He went through Todd's stuff. Damn thief."
Sandra turned a questioning look on Jessie. "Jessie, is this true?"
Jessie loved the fact that both of his parents had forgotten one thing – that it was supposed to be his home, too. "So what if I did? I thought I was welcome to go anytime. Spend a night, go for a visit. So much for that bullshit."
His mom's face puckered. "There's no need for that type of language."
"Great, he swears and accuses me of stuff, only I can't defend myself in the same way."
"He's not himself," she admonished.
Jessie couldn't believe what he was hearing. "He's what? Not himself? This is who he is! What a joke." He strode across the living room to stand in front of them both. "He's a joke."
"Don't you talk to your father that way? He's a good man."
"He's a drunk." Jessie threw himself down in the single armchair. "Why do you put up with him?"
She shot him a stern look.
Jessie subsided. He glared at his father. "Yes, I went to your house. Sorry, didn't know I was supposed to announce my presence. Oh, except I did but you were passed out as usual."
His father stared at him, total incomprehension on his face.
"Yes, I walked up to Todd's room. I was looking for his cell phone."
"His cell phone?" His mother stared at him in surprise.
"Yes, he didn't have it on him when he was found and there's no sign of it in the burned vehicle."
"Oh, honey. There'd have been nothing left if it had been in the car. What possible difference could it make now?"
"Cassie asked me to look for it."
"Cell phone?" Adam cleared his throat several times. "Todd's phone. He always had it on him."
"I know that. I wondered what had happened to it when it wasn't in the personal effects."
"So what? Surely that wasn't reason enough to search Todd's room."
Jessie shook his head. "I don't believe you two. I'm trying to help and you're both looking at me like I'm a criminal. What a farce." He stood up. "Why don't you just remarry him again? You always take his side anyway."
At the edge of the living room, he tossed back, "And I won't be spending more time with my Dad. Right now, I'd be happy never to see him again."
"Wait. Where are you going? Jessie?" His mother's cries rang through the house.
Jessie stormed outside without answering, slamming the front door behind him.
***
Todd watched the interaction in amazement. He'd never seen this side of the family dynamics. Jessie had always figured his life with Dad had been a walk in the park. An easy walk at that. Now he'd seen what a nightmare living with a drunk was. Character building stuff.
A bitter laugh choked out of his silent throat. Too bad they couldn't hear him. He'd love a chance to give them all 'what for.' To remind them what he'd taken for granted – how precious life was. And to tell them they'd been close to being right. He'd probably been heading where they were all afraid he'd been heading.
At least they would have been right – if it hadn't been for Cassie.
Just knowing Cassie had been there had kept him on the right path, more often than not. He couldn't bear to disappoint her. Just that adherence to her wishes had stopped him from going too far wrong. He wondered for how long that could have lasted? Maybe not for long, but maybe forever. Impossible to know now.
Todd watched Jessie storm across the yard. Then turned to study his mother as she hovered over his father. His father…well, he appeared to be confused. As usual.
Nothing had changed. His family was still as dysfunctional as ever.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Cassie wandered aimlessly around her neighborhood. Adam, Todd's father wasn't at home, so she'd been walking the block, hoping he'd return soon.
"Just go home. You don't need to talk to him, you know."
At the sound of the belo
ved voice, Cassie turned, a big smile on her face. She was happy to see him, yet sad at the same time. She studied Todd's face. His features were fading slightly, as if his ability to stay here had weakened. That was probably a good thing. He shouldn't be here. He should be off doing whatever dead people did. Hanging around wasn't supposed to be good according to any of the research she'd read. She loved him dearly, but she didn't want him to stay for her or because of the uncertainty clouding the circumstances of his death. She wanted his soul to be at peace and to go wherever souls were supposed to go.
Being trapped here sounded like extending a slow painful death, rather like a crippling disease. Todd was so special, she didn't want to see the essence of what made him who he was, become so much less.
"Whoa, what's with the sad face?" Todd bent forward to peer into her face.
"You." Tears came to her eyes. "You're supposed to be off doing happy soul-like things instead of being stuck here."
"I'm not stuck!" he protested. There went his hands into the jean pockets, his thumbs out as bravado leaked all over. "I'm here because I want to be here."
"Are you," she whispered. "Can you leave anytime?"
"I don't know." He looked around as if afraid someone might hear him. "I'm not sure how to leave, actually. Then, I haven't actually tried, either."
There was something so defenseless, so appealing, so like a young boy who knows he's supposed to do something but doesn't want to – so he makes up stories to get out of it.
"What are you doing here? My dad's at Jessie's. His truck is missing, in case you hadn't realized it," he added helpfully.
She ignored Todd's wicked grin. "Yeah, thanks for pointing out the obvious. I was hoping he'd be here soon."
As she walked to the end of the property, a truck belched around the corner before turning precariously into the driveway.
"I should warn you, he's probably pissed. He had a fight with Jessie."
Cassie stopped abruptly. "He didn't hurt him, did he?"
The whisper of a shrug was barely noticeable. "No, Jessie did all right. Most of the time Dad's okay. Since my accident, well…he needs help."
Cassie snorted. "Personally, I think he needed help a long time ago."
"Yeah, quite possibly. Too bad he wasn't in the car with me. You'd know exactly who was responsible." Disgust laced Todd's tinny voice.
Adam exited the old Dodge pickup, a half empty bottle of Jim Beam swinging from one hand. He slammed the door so hard the whole truck shook. Starting for the house, he stumbled, catching himself before he tumbled face-down on the patchy grass.
Todd's heavy sigh washed over her. "He's got it bad."
She didn't dare answer. She screwed up her courage. "Mr. Spence?"
"What?" Weaving across the lawn to his front door, Adam stared through bloodshot eyes.
It was easiest to start with condolences. "I just wanted to say I'm sorry about Todd." She shrugged. "I really miss him."
He stopped and faced her. "I loved my son. And I've been thinking, it just might have been your fault he's dead."
Cassie gasped, pole-axed. "What?"
Todd stiffened at her side. "That no good lousy drunk!" He headed for his father, fury written all over his face.
Cassie only noted his actions because he came between her and the belligerent drunk in front of her. "I had nothing to do with his death."
"Well, he wouldn't have been out there with his other pals if he'd been with you, now would he?"
Cassie had to sort through that convoluted argument. "You mean I might be responsible because he wasn't with me?" she asked cautiously.
Todd had stopped in his tracks to turn and stare back at her. The matching puzzled looks on both male faces would have been comical if it hadn't been for the seriousness of the subject matter.
"What?" Adam reached up and scratched his head.
Cassie closed her eyes briefly. It was through Adam she'd learned a long time ago that one couldn't talk to a drunk, never mind trying to argue with one.
"Did you see Todd that last night?" she said suddenly.
"Did I? I don't remember."
"Yes, before I went out that night we spoke briefly." Todd supplied the information, studying his father's confused face.
Cassie quickly put that information to use. "I'm sure you must have spoken before he went over to Rob's house to play games that night."
Adam nodded, "Yeah, I think so. I think it was over the phone. That's what I remember."
Cassie took a couple of steps forward. "Maybe you called him that night? Did you ask him to pick up something for you?" She hated the rising tide of hope.
He wavered on the spot as if he couldn't think and stand at the same time. "I called him?"
"No. I'm asking if you called him?"
Adam scratched his bristled chin with his truck keys. "I think I talked to him. On the phone."
"Maybe he called you?" She didn't know what difference it made, yet the concept wouldn't leave her alone. Todd had talked to someone on the phone. Someone who'd pissed him off. That put his father at the top of the list.
"Talked to him. Don't know." He shook his head and continued his journey to the front door.
"He called me." Todd frowned at his father. "I remember talking to him."
"Maybe you called him?" Cassie said to Todd softly. At least she thought she'd whispered.
At the front door, Adam turned back. "Huh, what did you say?" He stumbled, grabbing the wall for support.
Cassie groaned softly. "Sorry, I'm just talking to myself." Smiling, Cassie took several steps back toward the driveway. "Good-bye."
Adam half raised the arm holding the booze before letting it drop as he pushed the front door open and fell inside.
"He's too drunk to talk to right now. Call him in the morning, or better, around lunchtime and ask him again. If you want to, that is." Todd fell into step beside her.
"Maybe not. Chances are he'll be too drunk tomorrow to talk, as well." As they walked back to her house, Cassie couldn't stop the feeling that something in that recent conversation was important. It would be normal for Todd to have spoken on the phone with his dad. Most kids did on a daily basis and some on an hourly basis. That didn't feel like the problem, but she couldn't put her finger what was.
As they reached her house, a trip made mostly in silence, she stopped and spun around, looking to ask Todd a question.
Only he'd disappeared – again.
***
Deputy Magnusson strolled around the side of the house, calling out for Peter and Martha. The truck was there. They had to be somewhere. "Martha, are you here?" He stepped up on the back porch and glanced in the glass doors. Martha appeared to be sleeping on the couch. She slept a lot lately. According to the doctors her end was near. As he peered inside, Martha opened her eyes and shrieked.
Gerome held up his hands. "Sorry, Martha. Didn't mean to scare you."
Shaky, Martha sat up, stumbling to her feet before making her way to the door and unlocking it so he could enter. "Sorry, Gerome, I was catching a nap."
"No, it's me who's sorry. I didn't mean to wake you." He walked into the sitting room, watching Martha retake her seat. Sweat beaded on her brow. He winced. "Is Peter around?"
Lying back down, she yawned, covering her mouth with her hand. "I don't know where he's at."
"His truck is parked out front, which is why I walked around back to look for him. Again, I'm sorry. I'll check outside for him." He tilted his head in a respectful nod and backed out.
Martha smiled at him as she lay back down. "Do that. It's nice to see you again."
As he walked away, he noticed a dark blue cell phone lying on the coffee table. That was the same color as Todd's. He couldn't see the brand. He frowned. Martha certainly counted as an old crochety woman, as per Cassie's description of the person who'd answered Todd's phone. Only why wouldn't she have answered when he'd tried to call the number? Walking around to the front of the house again, he called out,
"Peter, are you out here?"
Again no answer. Puzzled, he walked to the other side and yelled again. This time he thought he heard a faint moan. He ran around the side of the house to find Peter lying in the deep grass, his left leg crumpled at an odd angle beneath him. Gerome dropped beside him. He quickly realized Peter was barely conscious, his heart racing and uneven.
He needed help and fast. After calling for the ambulance, Gerome took off his jacket and used it to cover the old man up. Too short by half, but it was all he had. Peter's skin had a gray cast, tinged with white.
He needed to let Martha know what had happened, only he didn't want to leave Peter alone. Damn. He made a quick decision and raced up to the back deck where he reopened the glass doors. Martha had fallen asleep again.
"Martha? Martha?" he repeated louder.
She murmured, drifted silent, never lifting her head or opening her eyes.
Damn it. Sirens sounded in the distance. They'd still need a good ten minutes. "Martha?"
This time she hardly moved. Gerome walked in and touched her gently on her shoulder, "Martha, wake up. Peter's hurt." He shook her harder.
Martha's head wobbled and fell to the side, but she didn't open her eyes. Gerome reached a hand to her chilled forehead and frowned. He pressed his fingers to her neck and found only a faint pulse. Her skin felt clammy. She seemed fine ten minutes ago.
Damn it. He needed an ambulance now – for two patients.
He glanced at the cell phone he'd seen earlier. Picking it up, he raced back out to Peter. The older man was still unconscious. Gerome stared down the road. Where the hell was the ambulance?
Opening his wallet, he pulled out a ripped piece of notepaper with a number on it. Using his own phone, he dialed the number. Within seconds the phone in his hand rang. He stared at it in disbelief. Checking the back, he found TS scratched on one corner. Gerome glanced back at the house.
How the hell had Martha ended up with Todd's cell phone?
