by Patricia Fry
"Sure," Michael said. He finished his iced tea and asked, "Ready?
"Okay," Adam said, carrying his plate to the counter. "Can Lexie go?"
"I guess so," Michael said. "Grab her leash in case we need it."
"You weren't gone long," Savannah said, minutes later.
"No. We didn't find anyone at home. We snooped around a bit, though, and you're right, no cattle, Darla's gone, the chickens are gone. It's like a ghost ranch."
"Ghost ranch?" Adam said. "You mean you think there are ghosts there? I didn't see any."
Michael nudged his son. "Of course, you didn't. Ghosts are invisible, remember?"
"Oh yeah," Adam said.
"Did you see the cats?" Savannah asked.
Michael shook his head. "Probably because we had Lexie with us. I looked through some of the windows and saw that the furniture's still inside. It doesn't look like anything's been disturbed. The porch furniture is still there and Randy's favorite rocker. He loves sitting in that rocker and looking across his acreage." He faced Savannah. "And he does it with such satisfaction. He loves that place. I don't know how he could leave it for any reason." He clenched his jaw. "I'd sure like to meet his brother and get the story from him. I think I'll take a detour over there on my way to work in the morning." He looked at Adam. "Your mom's coming to get you tomorrow, right?"
"Yeah," he said. "So this is our last time to play the beanbag game."
"That's right," Michael said. "It's my last chance to avenge myself."
"I'll go get the game," Adam said, excitedly.
"Wait," Michael called. "Let's leave it in the closet until the little ones go to bed, shall we?"
"Ohhh," Adam said. "Good idea. Last time we had long waits between throws because Teddy kept running away with our beanbags."
"Yes," Michael said. "If it isn't Rags, it's Teddy."
Adam laughed. "Yeah, let's put Rags to bed with Teddy this time." When Michael laughed, Adam began to giggle and the two of them were soon bent over holding their stomachs, laughing.
****
"So what did you find out about Mr. Randolph this morning?" Savannah asked the following evening when Michael got home from work. "I meant to text you and ask, but I got so busy with Marci here to pick up Adam. He couldn't find one of his shirts that he really, really wanted to wear someplace when he got to his other house."
Michael laughed. "He'll need two wardrobes now, won't he?"
She nodded. "Especially of his favorite things."
"Did he find the shirt?"
"Yes, at his other house. Marci texted me later. By then, I was involved with Lily's play date."
"Lily had a play date?"
Savannah nodded. "Well, Lily and Teddy. He loves Rosemary as much as Lily does. They're so darn cute together."
"Got pictures?" he asked.
"Sure did," she said, picking up her phone and tapping on the screen. She handed it to him. "Scroll down. There are a few."
"Lily, punkin," he said, "it looks like you had such a good time."
"Let me see," Lily said.
"Me, see," Teddy said.
Savannah chuckled. "You kids have looked at those picture eight times already today."
"Uh—uh," Lily disagreed. She grinned. "Only three."
"We'll look at them some more after supper when your hands aren't sticky. Now eat your chicken and rice." She asked Michael, "So did you talk to the brother?"
"If he's a brother, I'm the governor of Massachusetts," he griped.
"Massachusetts?" Savannah repeated crinkling her nose.
"He's an imposter, Savannah. I don't know where he came from or where Randy and his wife are, but I believe something's wrong, which is why I called Craig."
"Really?" she said wide—eyed. "What did you tell him?"
"That I suspect foul play, and that I think that so—called brother is an imposter. Plus, he's crude and rude and stupid."
"Wow, you really did have an encounter of the not—so—good kind," Gladys said. "What do you think is going on?"
"I sure hope Craig can get to the bottom of it." Michael said. "For all I know, he's a friend of your nephew, Jake. I mean, he could have been the one he was talking to in the trees, if that was even true. But who is he, where did he come from, and what are his intentions? I sure don't know." He looked at Savannah. "I saw the cats you were talking about, though. They look feral to me. I wonder where they're coming from."
"So you don't think they're barn cats?"
He shook his head. "There are too many of them." Michael glanced at the clock. "Craig's coming by this evening. He says he has something to tell us."
****
"Hi, Craig," Michael greeted. "Come in. We're eager to hear what you know—a bit apprehensive, but eager. Sit down. Can we get you something to drink?"
"Sure, I'd like a strong shot of something." He chuckled. "But I think I'll refrain from heavy drinking until I get home." He glanced at Michael and Savannah. "You two might want a stiff drink, though."
Savannah eased down into the overstuffed chair and moaned.
Michael perched on the ottoman and Craig sat nearby in a straight—back chair. Craig acknowledged Gladys, who sat on the sofa with Teddy, then said, "He's the man Jake was talking to, all right. I showed Jake that picture you took of the alleged Randolph family imposter."
Savannah looked surprised. "Michael, you took his picture even though he was being so rude?"
"I took it because he was being so rude," Michael asserted.
Craig chuckled, then said, "Jake swears that guy told him to do all that stuff, and I found out why Jake did it, too."
"Why?" Gladys asked.
"Jake overheard a conversation." Craig glanced at the couple. "I guess he spent quite a bit of time in the tree grove over the weekend, maybe smoking dope. He's not as socially inclined as the rest of the Brannon clan seems to be."
"No, he's not," Gladys agreed.
Savannah nodded.
"What did he overhear?" Michael asked.
"I don't know. I haven't squeezed that out of him yet, but Jake said Reggie—or whatever his name is—threatened to kill him if Jake didn't do what he told him to do."
Savannah put her hand up to her mouth. "Michael," she said, "remember that first night they were here and Jake came out of the grove with blood on his face?"
Michael nodded. "Yes, as a matter of fact, I do. Do you suppose…?" he started.
Gladys interrupted. "He said he fell in a sticker bush."
"Yes," Savannah agreed, "but that might have been one of his fibs. If Reggie threatened Jake, he probably also slapped him around." She thought for a minute. "But why would that guy want to hurt any of us? What does he have against us?"
"I still don't know that, and I'm not sure Jake is telling the whole truth," Craig said.
"Did he tell you what he overheard?" Michael asked. "Maybe that would give you a clue."
"Probably, but no. He's keeping that secret for now. I think he believes he'll get out of that cell sometime soon, and he's afraid for his life if he squeals."
"Seems as if he's squealed enough to cause that Reggie guy trouble already," Savannah said. "I mean, Jake told you that the man threatened him."
Craig nodded.
Michael muttered, "I wonder if Jake knows what happened to Randy and his wife."
"I wondered that too," Craig said. "Obviously, Jake isn't comfortable talking about it yet. I'm pretty sure that the longer we keep him and the more pressure we put on him, the more likely he is to talk. I think we have time on our side, and that's what I wanted to tell you tonight, Michael."
"Not if that imposter has done something with the Randolphs," Michael said. "Can't you use some sort of force or threat to get Jake to talk? It seems he's our only hope right now—or should I say the Randolphs' only hope—if they're still alive."
Craig squinted. "Michael, what makes you so sure Reggie has done anything to them? The couple might have legitimately sold him the pro
perty and moved on. People do it all the time."
"That's what I told them," Gladys asserted.
Meanwhile, Michael shook his head slowly. "It's just so out of character for Randy to do something like that." He sat up straighter. "Hey, Bud's parents, Gunther and Edith, are pretty good friends of the Randolphs. I think we should check with them to see what they know."
"You haven't mentioned any of this to Bud?" Savannah asked.
"No," he said. "We've been so busy at work catching up since Bud returned from his honeymoon that I didn't have the chance. I'll give him a call and ask him to talk to his parents."
****
The following morning Savannah entered the kitchen with her phone. "Mom, it's for you." When Gladys seemed surprised, she said, "It's Craig. He wants to talk to you."
"Good morning, Craig," Gladys said into the phone.
"Morning. I hope I didn't wake anyone," Craig said.
"No. We're up."
"Gladys, I wonder if you and Maggie could help me out with something today."
She raised her eyebrows in surprise. "Sure, I suppose. What is it, Craig?"
"Well, I've been thinking that you two might be able to move your nephew off dead center and somehow shame him or sweet—talk him into spilling what he knows. I'm afraid that without Jake's honest statement about what went on between him and the…" he cleared his throat. "…the man in the trees, someone is liable to get hurt."
"And you think that Maggie and I can help in some way?" Gladys asked.
"I'm betting that you two have enough influence to convince Jake to do the right thing. Gladys, I don't know what's keeping him from talking. Is it fear, or is he just exerting his independence—you know, making a statement of some sort? He doesn't seem to have a good relationship with his parents. I thought maybe you two could convince him to talk to us. You see, Gladys, I believe Jake knows something about the scare tactics your family and the Sheridans have experienced lately, and if we don't find out what's going on, it just might be disastrous for all of you."
"What makes you think so, Craig?" Gladys asked.
"Call it a hunch after years in this business," he said. "Then there's the cat."
Gladys looked down at Rags as he wandered past her, and let out a deep sigh. "Sure, Craig. Whatever I can do to help, certainly I'll do it. I believe Maggie feels the same way. Do you want us to come down to the station?"
"Yes, as soon as you can," Craig said.
"Sounds urgent."
"I believe it is, yes," he confirmed.
"Well, let me call Maggie. Shall we try to be there around nine thirty this morning?" she asked.
"That would be great. Thank you, Gladys. I'll see you ladies then."
"Yes," Gladys said. "Good—bye." When she saw Savannah's quizzical look, she disclosed, "Well, that was Craig, as you know. He wants Maggie and me to have a talk with Jake."
"Really?" Savannah said. "Why?"
"He seems to think Jake knows something about the threats and vandalism we've experienced around here, and so far he won't talk. Craig believes he'll talk to Maggie and me." She looked at the clock. "Oh, my, I'd better check the biscuits and get the children's breakfast. I'll need to shower and…"
Savannah put her hand on Gladys's arm. "Mom, it's okay. I took the biscuits out. They're cooling. The children are eating their eggs and fruit. I made your tea. You sit down and enjoy your breakfast, now. There's no need for you to rush."
"Okay, just let me call your aunt. I hope she can go with me. She's better at this sort of thing than I am."
Savannah chuckled. "It depends on what tactic you'll need this morning to get Jake's attention. Mom, you can be pretty darn persuasive when you want to get to the truth out of someone." When Gladys faced her with an inquisitive look, she explained, "You always know the right thing to say to get a confession." She laughed. "I heard you do it with Teddy just yesterday."
"What?" Gladys questioned, grinning slyly.
"Well, you couldn't find the remote, and you thought Teddy had done something with it. So you asked him and he flat—out ignored you. Using your familiar patience, you quietly confronted poor Teddy. I knew the kid didn't have a chance when I saw you go into action."
"What action?" Gladys asked, amused
"You know," Savannah said. "You took Teddy by the little arm, looked deep into his eyes and said in your most authoritative tone, 'Young man, where is the TV remote? What did you do with it?' When he didn't respond, you said, 'Teddy, do you want a time—out with no toys, no cookies, no playing?' He shook his little head, then you said, 'Find Grammy's remote.'" Savannah laughed. "He thought for a moment, then ran into the living room, returning with the remote in his hand, and said, 'Glori took it, Grammy.'"
Both women laughed, and Gladys said, "Sometimes all you need is their undivided attention."
"Well, that you'll have with Jake in the jail, I suppose," Savannah said, "unless…"
"Unless what?"
"Well, he just doesn't seem able to concentrate, although that might have been because of drugs. Do you think he was doing drugs?"
Gladys shrugged, then excused herself to go get cleaned up for her visit to the jail.
****
"Good morning, Jake," Craig said when an officer brought the prisoner to a conference room later that morning.
Jake ignored the greeting. When he saw his two aunts in the room, he stopped and asked suspiciously, "What are they doing here?"
"Sit down," Jake," Craig invited. "You're allowed to have visitors. They've come to see you. Sit here. I'll move out of your way, so you can visit with your aunts. Just let me know if you need anything."
"Yeah," Jake said, "I'll have a beer with a shot."
"Water it is," Craig said. He asked the women. "Anything for you ladies?"
They both declined.
After a lull, Margaret leaned toward her nephew and asked, "So Jake, how are you doing?"
"How am I doing?" he spat. "How do you think I'm doing? I'm in jail. They won't let me out, and I don't know why this is happening."
The two women glanced at each other and Gladys said, "You know why you're here, right, Jake?"
He stared at her. "I suppose I do." Defensively he added, "But I only did what he told me."
"Who?" Margaret asked.
Jake sat back and folded his arms across his chest.
"Now there's the problem, don't you think so, Jake?" Gladys asked. "You're in here for trying to hurt people. If you have a good reason or excuse, you need to tell the detective."
"No, I don't," he said smugly.
Gladys frowned. "Then you must suffer the consequences."
"There's that word," Jake said, suddenly becoming agitated.
"What word?" Margaret asked.
"Consequences," he repeated. He mimicked, "There are consequences to your actions, Jake; you have to suffer the consequences, Jake…" He scowled. "Like hell."
"Jake," Craig admonished, to get him to settle down and focus.
Jake looked at him and took a deep breath. "What if you don't like the consequences, so you decide not to do something so you won't get those consequences?"
"What are you talking about?" Margaret asked impatiently. "You are suffering the consequences of your actions right now. You tried to hurt us and now you're in jail, right, Jake?"
He nodded. "Yes, I am, but I'm not dead."
"Dead?" Gladys repeated. "Why did you say that? What does that mean?"
"It means that if I don't talk, I stay alive, so I'm not talking, see?"
Margaret and Gladys made eye contact with Craig. He remained silent, so Margaret asked, "Jake, has someone threatened you? Why would they do that?"
When he simply sat silently looking down at his bottle of water, Gladys said, "Jake, it's us. You can talk to Maggie and me. We've been friends since you and Jimmy were just little tykes. Remember all the fun we used to have together? You were a clever and smart kid, and you enjoyed life." She leaned forward, a pained look
on her face. "What happened, Jake?"
He continued to look down at the bottle, then he said quietly, "Is that how you remember me, Aunt Gladys? You really thought I was smart and clever?"
Gladys nodded.
He smiled. "I guess I was. I remember having fun with the other kids, my brother, Vannie and Bri, the twins. We had some fun times." He tilted his head. "I was a happy kid. No problems. Life was swell." He frowned. "I screwed it all up, didn't I? I just started having one problem after another until my life was one big problem. I was a problem to my parents." He looked up at Gladys and Margaret. "They hate me, you know. Jimmy and Belinda aren't what you'd call friendly to me. I'm an outcast, like that story you read to me once, Aunt Gladys." He stared at her. "I still remember that book. The boy couldn't make friends. No one liked him. He was always getting into trouble. My life has become that story." He looked her in the eyes. "Is that because I believed that story? Is that why my life became like that story?"
"Jake," Gladys said gently, "don't you remember how the story ends? The boy in the story turned things around, and you can too."
"I don't think so," Jake said. He seemed to be fighting against his emotions. His voice was muffled when he added, "I'm stuck where I am. There's no going back, and I'm not even sure I can go forward. I'm a lonely fool with no future."
"Now, Jake…" Margaret started.
He put up his hands. "No preaching. I don't want to hear anyone's preaching. I know more about what's going on inside my head than anyone else in the world, including you two."
"So you don't want help?" Gladys asked.
He stared at her. "There is no help for me. It's gone too far," he insisted. He choked up again. "And just when I have a reason…." He stopped talking and stared down at his hands in his lap.
"A reason?" Margaret asked.
He took a ragged breath and blurted, "I'm going to be a father."
The women looked at each other, then at Jake. "What?" Margaret asked.
He nodded. "I just found out last week. Marla's going to have a baby. She says I'm the father and I believe her. But how can I be? I mean how can I be a real father to it—the kind of father I've always wanted and that I want to be? How?" he asked, slapping the tabletop. When he saw Craig flinch, he took a deep breath. "I've known for a long time that something's wrong with me. It wasn't Marla or my other wife or my friends or family. It was me all the time. I know it, but I hate it and it's really hard for me to even say it."
