by Dan Padavona
Standing beside LeVar’s sink, Naomi cleaned the dessert plates while Scout worked at the computer. Jack lay beside Scout with his tongue hanging out, a big grin on his face. The dog always smiled when his friends were around, and he loved Scout as much as he loved anyone.
“Are you sure you won’t eat dinner? I’ll bring it down so you can work without interruption.”
Scout rubbed her eyes.
“Maybe in a while. I’m way behind on the research LeVar sent me.”
“Tell you what. Ms. Hopkins and I will throw something together and carry it down after we finish. By then, you’ll probably have your appetite back.”
Serena hadn’t accompanied Naomi to the guest house. LeVar’s mother cried for a long time after Glen left, frustrated over the accusations. Naomi wanted to smooth things over, but it was best to give Serena space.
She set the plates in a plastic grocery bag and gave her daughter another glance. Clouds raced across the sky and reflected off the lake as Naomi turned down the hallway.
“Mom?”
Naomi stopped and returned to the front room. On the computer monitor, Scout displayed a teenager’s social media page.
“Yeah, hon?”
“Why is Dad doing this?”
Naomi leaned against the wall and lifted her eyes to the ceiling, as though searching for an answer.
“I wish I knew, Scout. I’ve never seen your father act like this. Give me a chance to talk to him.”
“I don’t want to leave you. I don’t want to leave any of this,” Scout said, spreading her arms.
“Your father won’t take you away. Not if I have anything to say about it.”
“It doesn’t seem fair. He’s saying one thing, his lawyer another. Then we have our own lawyer. But nobody asks what I want. I’m the one who has to live with Dad if the courts decide in his favor.”
Naomi touched Scout’s shoulder and kissed the top of her head.
“Oh, Scout. It won’t come to that. And anyway, the courts will consider your opinion in any decision they make.”
Scout dropped her eyes.
“But I don’t want to say terrible things about Dad in court, either. As angry as I am, he’s still my father.”
Naomi’s throat clenched.
“There isn’t a cruel bone in your body. You’d never hurt your father’s feelings.” Naomi brushed the hair from Scout’s eyes. “Listen, Scout. Nobody can take you from me. I’ll talk to your father. Hopefully, this battle never reaches the courts.”
Leaning against the arm of her wheelchair, Scout hugged Naomi around the waist. The teenager fell quiet as Naomi stroked her hair.
“I’m sorry for being such a pain.”
Naomi knelt before her daughter and held her hands.
“Why would you say that?”
“To you and LeVar, I mean. None of this is your fault. I shouldn’t take out my frustrations on the people I care about.”
“You didn’t hurt my feelings, babe. I understand. Believe me, I do.” Naomi paused for a moment. “But it wouldn’t be a bad idea to talk to LeVar. He’s worried about you.”
Scout sniffled and scraped a tear off her eyelid.
“I was such a jerk to him.”
“LeVar is on your side, just like I am. Everybody has a bad day once in a while. He won’t hold it against you.”
“Why did Dad say those awful things about LeVar and Ms. Hopkins?”
“Your guess is as good as mine. But the next time I see your father, he’ll get my two cents and then some.” Scout gave an uncertain nod and turned back to the computer. “Why don’t you tell me about your research?”
Scout explained her methods. She sifted through Shawn Massey’s profile, made note of his connections, and investigated his friends. The problem was, Shawn Massey had over five-hundred connections on Facebook, and all those connections needed to be traced so she could verify where each person lived. It would be a long time before Scout found an answer, and it was almost sunset. As much as Naomi wished Scout would rest, this might be the best thing for her. By aiding another teenager, she’d heal herself.
“I support you, Scout. If anyone can save that missing boy, it’s you. Work as late as you’re comfortable with. We’ll bring your food down when it’s ready.”
Scout thanked her mother and returned to the investigation. Jack followed Naomi to the door. Always the gentleman. She bent low and kissed Jack on the head, scratching behind his ears and telling him what a good dog he was before she departed.
At the kitchen table, Serena poured over notes for a new recipe when Naomi entered through the sliding glass door. Naomi worried about her shaken friend. Glen’s scathing remarks still echoed in Naomi’s head.
“How did it go with Scout?” Serena asked without looking up.
“She’s upset. Who wouldn’t be? LeVar has Scout working on a case, and that’s probably good for her. Might be a long night. I want her to eat so she doesn’t get sick.”
“What do you have in mind?”
Naomi scratched her head.
“Something easy that I can throw together quick.”
Serena set her notes aside and opened the cupboard.
“How about tuna noodle casserole? That always hits the spot.”
“I love it.”
“Come on, I’ll help you whip dinner together.”
As they pulled the ingredients off the shelves, Serena kept glancing at Naomi from the corner of her eye.
“Serena, I don’t blame you for being furious with Glen. He was out of line.”
Serena released a breath.
“The truth is I am a recovering heroin addict, and LeVar ran with the Harmon Kings for years. Glen wasn’t wrong. We can’t change our pasts, only command our futures.”
“You’re none of those things anymore.”
“The temptation will always be with me, and LeVar has to live with his past. Naomi, I wasn’t a mother to my children. After their father walked away, God challenged me to step up and play the role of two parents. I failed Him. I was a coward, hiding behind addiction when I should have been there for Raven and LeVar. They raised themselves.” Serena set the tuna can on the counter and blew out a breath. “But today scared me. When your husband started yelling, I felt as if I was looking into a mirror.”
Naomi set the breadcrumbs down and turned to her friend.
“I’m not sure I understand.”
“The empty terror in his eyes. That’s regret, Naomi. Regret and panic. He’s coming to grips with his failures as a father. I went through the same thing, though Glen and I took different paths to avoid our shortcomings. While I turned to drugs, Glen hides behind the legal system and makes us the villains. It’s easier to blame others than look into a mirror.”
“If he sees himself as a failed parent, why fight for custody?”
“Perhaps it’s his way of making up for lost time. If he gives Scout a better life, in his mind, he erases his wrongdoings. Just know that when he climbs into bed every night, he experiences moments of clarity. And they’re utterly terrifying. He realizes he’s wrong. But in his panic, he doesn’t know how to build a bridge back to your daughter.”
Naomi sank into a chair and brushed her hair back. Despite her anger, she still loved Glen, still wished he’d never left the family. Now he’d crossed a line. They could never fix their marriage, but there was still a chance for Glen to be the father Scout needed.
“So what should I do?”
“There’s nothing you can do,” Serena said, sliding into a chair beside Naomi. “You can’t force Glen to face his demons. That needs to come from within.” Serena touched her heart. “But he needs to do it soon. Time is running out for Scout and Glen. If he doesn’t repair their relationship in the coming weeks, he’ll lose her forever.”
Naomi’s heart sank into her belly. She wanted the best for Scout, and the best for her daughter was having a mother and father in her life. Two parents to see her through the tough times and experienc
e her joys. Scout’s first kiss, prom and graduation, college. Scout was growing so fast.
Naomi couldn’t allow Glen to tear Scout’s life apart.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Saturday, 6:30 p.m.
Mahoney’s reminded Chelsey of every dive bar she’d strolled into. The air held a dusty, sepia quality, as though the room held smoke from the days when lighting up a cigarette inside a bar was legal. A yellowish cast sullied the walls, and a jukebox in the back thumped Aerosmith. The close walls provoked arguments that inevitably ended in parking lot fistfights. A good-looking woman like Chelsey invited games of grab-ass if she dared to venture inside. A three-year-old calendar hung askew behind the bar. Teetering on a stool, a man with a beard full of gray nursed a mug of beer.
The bartender didn’t appear as if he belonged here. He was the youngest person in Mahoney’s. The bartender wore amber hair parted on the side, the sleeves of his white button-down rolled up to the elbows. He gave Chelsey a baffled, concerned stare, wondering why any respectful woman would risk visiting Mahoney’s with sunset approaching. Then his eyes landed on LeVar, and he returned to polishing the counter.
“Help ya?”
The bartender didn’t look up when Chelsey sat at the bar with LeVar beside her.
“I’m looking for someone.”
“Aren’t we all?” The bartender set the rag aside and leaned on the counter with his knuckles. “You a cop or something?”
“A private investigator.”
Chelsey fished a card out of her wallet and handed it to the bartender. He glanced at the card and handed it back.
“He a private investigator too?” The man tilted his head at LeVar. “Looks a little young to be a gumshoe. Doubt he’s reached the legal drinking age.”
Chelsey snickered.
“Gumshoe?”
“Sorry. I’m guilty of reading too many Robert Chandler novels. So what’s a private investigator doing inside Mahoney’s?”
Three men set their pool sticks down and glared at LeVar from the back of the room. Chelsey recalled LeVar’s comment about hammer time and hoped the teenager didn’t notice the men. She reached into her jacket and removed her phone. Loading a photograph of Hanley Stokes, she set the phone in front of the bartender.
“We’re searching for this man. Hanley Stokes. Know him?”
“Pfft.” The bartender nodded at a picture of Stokes hanging on the wall. “Our do-not-serve list is one person long. Stokes is the only name on the list.”
“Have you seen him around?”
The man scratched behind his ear and gave a warning glance to the three hoods eyeing LeVar.
“Not for three years. We heard he got out of prison. Stokes in trouble again?”
“He might be. Why did you ban him from Mahoney’s?”
He shrugged and surveyed the bar.
“Not that Mahoney’s attracts a high-class clientele, but Stokes is a known drug dealer. I don’t need that problem inside my bar. Before the police arrested him, he pulled a knife on a local guy named Jonas Briggs.” The bartender drummed his knuckles against the polished wood. “They were both drunk. Not even sure who started the fight or what it was about. But I draw the line at weapons. Threaten a patron’s life, and you don’t get to drink in my bar.”
“Did Stokes frequently start altercations?” LeVar asked, snacking on a bowl of pretzels.
The man scrunched his face in thought.
“No, he never caused trouble until that night. But one strike and you’re out if you pull a knife on someone.”
“Would you do me a favor?” Chelsey asked, handing her card back to the bartender. “If Stokes walks into Mahoney’s, will you call me? My number is on the bottom of the card.”
“Sure, I can do that,” the bartender said, slipping the card into his shirt pocket. “But I don’t expect Stokes will show his face here. Even for an ex-con, this is a tough crowd.”
Chelsey glanced over her shoulder. Despite the drug rumors, Stokes had a clean record until three years ago. The robbery occurred around the time Mahoney’s banned him for threatening Jonas Briggs with a knife. What set him off and spun his life out of control?
The bartender assessed LeVar.
“Seems you can handle yourself in a scrap. But the three clowns playing pool aren’t choirboys, and I don’t want my place trashed.”
Chelsey rose off the stool.
“It’s fine. We were just leaving.”
LeVar gave the bullies a smug grin before he turned away.
“Thank you for your help,” Chelsey told the bartender as she pulled LeVar toward the entrance.
“You didn’t want to watch me in action?” LeVar smirked in the parking lot.
“I didn’t want you spending the night in jail. Can’t trust how the cops here will treat you. Even Thomas doesn’t trust Wells Ferry PD.”
“Next stop?”
“We’ll try Stokes’s house. But I doubt we’ll find him at home.”
Hanley Stokes lived in a one-story home on South Seneca Street. The siding had faded to a pale green, and the screened-in front porch was missing a panel. Bugs flew in and out of the missing screen. Chelsey pulled the Civic to the curb and checked the driveway.
“Doesn’t appear Stokes is home,” LeVar said, leaning his head out the window.
She wanted to tell him to raise the window and pull his head inside before someone shot it off. But when she glanced up the street, she realized they hadn’t wandered into gang territory. Stokes’s house stuck out among its neighbors. It barely appeared lived in, though Chelsey confirmed the drug dealer had owned the house for a decade.
Chelsey brushed a hand over her gun as she stepped from the Civic. Together, they approached the front door along a chipped walkway. LeVar banged on the screen door. Chelsey didn’t see a doorbell. A minute later, LeVar pounded louder. Nobody responded.
“Guess he’s not here,” Chelsey said, stepping off the porch.
LeVar crossed the unruly lawn and pressed his face against the window. She pictured Stokes aiming a gun at LeVar’s head from inside. When LeVar didn’t spot the ex-con, he rounded the house and peeked through more windows. He returned to Chelsey and pushed his dreadlocks off his shoulder.
“Nobody’s inside. Where to now?”
Chelsey didn’t have an answer. Where would a drug dealer hang out after his release? As she considered their next move, a woman with pink hair power-walked down the sidewalk. The woman wore sweatpants, a sweatshirt, and earbuds. She gave LeVar a wary look and hurried past before Chelsey flagged her down by waving her arms over her head. The woman yanked the earbuds out and glanced between Chelsey and LeVar.
“Excuse me. Do you know the man who lives in this house?”
The exerciser shook her head.
“Not personally, but I’ve seen him around. He did prison time, from what I understand. But I’m not a busybody.”
“Have you seen him today?”
“No. Not for a few days, now that you mention it. He drives that damn junker car with the missing muffler. You can hear it from the west side of Wells Ferry. But it’s been two or three days since the car came down our road. No way that piece of junk should have passed inspection.”
LeVar slipped his hands into his pockets and tried to appear casual. He realized his dreadlocks and physical size made the woman nervous.
“Anybody visit his house in the last week?” he asked, tilting his head at the front door.
“No visitors. But twice in the last couple days I noticed a cop car sitting out front.”
Chelsey raised her eyebrows.
“Wells Ferry PD?”
“That’s right. What happened? Did the loser break his probation?”
Chelsey handed the woman her card and asked her to call if Stokes showed his face. After the power walker continued down the sidewalk, Chelsey swung around to LeVar.
“Something doesn’t feel right. Wells Ferry PD is watching out for Stokes. But they barely mentioned
him to the sheriff’s department.”
“Stokes might have split town,” LeVar said, rubbing his chin. “Probably after word got back to the police about Stokes harassing Megan Massey. Stokes didn’t want the heat and left.”
But was he still in Wells Ferry last night when someone stabbed Megan Massey?
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Saturday, 8:05 p.m.
Darren pulled the truck onto the gravel shoulder when the rain became too heavy to see through the windshield. Black clouds rushed overhead, torn tags snaking down and spinning around a vertical axis as wind whipped the car. Raven shot him a nervous look from the passenger seat when the truck vibrated during a gust. To their right, the Wells River crashed through its banks with utter madness. The river’s appetite for destruction had no bounds. It ripped chunks off the banks and swallowed the mud, only to spit it out when the river blasted against a dam.
It took ten minutes before the wind relented. Twigs stuck to the windshield wipers. Darren draped his jacket over his head and cleaned the glass, the rain lashing at his face as he wrestled the sticks out of the blades. A decayed, earthy scent mixed with a whiff of ozone. Lightning flashed through the sky.
“That was fun,” he said, climbing into the cab with a forced laugh.
Raven didn’t respond. Just stared out the passenger window with clenched hands as the river surged out of its banks.
They’d followed the Wells River on a combination of access roads and scenic overlooks, though there was nothing scenic about nature’s wrath. The river would meet the lake two miles to the east. No sign of Shawn. If he’d come this way, the storms erased his tracks hours ago.
Darren and Raven were the only searchers in the field. The sheriff’s department, police, and volunteers holed up until the storms rolled through. Between the lightning and flooded roads, the search had taken on a dangerous edge. The various entities wouldn’t risk one of their own plunging into the water, though Darren suspected Thomas was out there somewhere, ignoring the mandates.
A police band radio crackled inside the truck. Darren didn’t recognize the voices. A new crew had replaced the day shift at Wells Ferry PD. That was a good thing. Darren grew tired of dealing with Officers Barber and Neal, and their insistence that Kemp murdered Megan.
