Precedent: Book Three: Covenant of Trust Series

by Paula Wiseman

  “She’s said enough.” Bobbi turned to Shannon. “I don’t care what hurts or injustices have been inflicted on you, nothing . . . nothing justifies that kind of language and that kind of disrespect. I want you to apologize.” She locked eyes with Shannon and added, “Now.”

  “I can’t,” Shannon said quietly, shaking her head. “I can’t do that. I’m sorry, Mom.” She turned and bolted from the room and up the stairs. Chuck snatched up the nearest thing he could get a hand on and heaved it across the room. The hardback book hit the wall with a thud, denting the drywall.

  Bobbi whipped around to face him. “I thought we were past all that!” she said sharply.

  He steadied himself against the wall and raised his fists to his eyes. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Bobbi. I lost it. I’m so sorry. Dear God, I’m sorry.”

  She reached out and touched his arm. “Chuck, you’re shaking. What is it?”

  He wiped his eyes and dropped his hands to his sides. “What if . . . what if she’s right? What if this, all of this, is my fault?”

  “It’s not,” Bobbi said quietly. “That’s crazy. Shannon’s upset—”

  “No, she’s thought about this. Reasoned it out.”

  “But that doesn’t make it so.”

  Chuck frowned and looked away. People revealed their deepest convictions in times of high emotion. And why did he lash back at her with that kind of anger? Because . . . deep down . . . he suspected she was right.

  “ . . . and since you won’t take my word for it, let’s call Glen first thing in the morning,” Bobbi said.

  “For her or for me?” Hearing Glen confirm it was the last thing he wanted.

  “All of us.”

  * * *

  Jack’s hands shook with outrage and indignation, sloshing the Coke over the rim of his glass. He should never have come down to the kitchen for a snack. He should have just waited for breakfast tomorrow. But no . . . And he heard every word. Every last hateful, spiteful word.

  His mother wasn’t a . . . She wasn’t. She was messed up. He would admit that much, but she wasn’t . . . She wasn’t what Shannon called her. She just wanted somebody to love her, to tell her she was okay. That didn’t make her a . . .

  No. It didn’t. Shannon owed him an apology. And he intended to make sure he got it.

  * * *

  Saturday, June 28

  Before daybreak, Shannon stole downstairs and out the front door. She patted her front pocket, pleased with herself for having the foresight to get an extra set of car keys made. She eased the front door closed and checked up and down the street. No one was out, not even walkers or joggers. She quickly unlocked her car, slung her bag into the passenger seat and shut the door as quietly as she could.

  She glanced back at her house, her resolve wavering just a little. She shook her head quickly as if to clear her mind. There was no other choice. She turned the key in the ignition, but nothing happened. Not even a click.

  What the . . . ?

  The gas gauge read three quarters of a tank. Not the battery. Alternator, maybe. Irritated, she popped the hood and got out of the car. When she raised the hood, she swore out loud. Her dad had taken the spark plug wires. “You think he could trust me any less?” she muttered. She clicked the hood closed and took out her cell phone. “Dylan, I need some help.”

  * * *

  An hour later, Bobbi got up after a fitful night of sleep. Chuck was asleep beside her, but she knew it had only been for the last hour or two. Before heading downstairs for her first cup of coffee, she opened Jack’s bedroom door slightly, checking on him just as she had done every morning since he’d lived with them. She was relieved to hear his deep breathing. Finally, he was able to rest.

  Then following her routine, she walked to the opposite end of the hall to Shannon’s room. Through the night, catching each other awake, she and Chuck talked, trying to come up with an explanation for why Shannon’s emotions became so intense so quickly. What could they have done differently? Where had they failed?

  None of them had really processed Brad’s death. Chuck suggested she take Shannon away for a weekend, someplace where they could both vent all their grief and frustration. Maybe Shannon was uneasy about starting college and leaving home now. Maybe she just needed to know she could sit out a semester, or even a whole year.

  Bobbi pushed the door open just wide enough to peek in, and in the dim light she could see the bed was made, the room was completely in order, but Shannon was gone.

  Bobbi flung the door open and turned on the light. An envelope with Mom written on the outside lay on the desk. Bobbi ripped the envelope open and pulled out the single sheet of notepaper. It said simply, “I love you. I’m sorry.”

  “No,” Bobbi said. “This is not happening . . . CHUCK!”

  Chapter 7

  Exploitation

  Panicked and disoriented, Chuck rushed into Shannon’s bedroom ready to fight somebody off or mop up blood. “Bobbi? What? What’s the matter? Where’s Shannon?”

  “She’s gone.” Bobbi thrust a piece of paper at him.

  He squinted to read the girlish script. “Sorry? For what? What is she talking about?”

  “Mom? What’s wrong?” Jack stood in the doorway, rubbing his eyes.

  “Shannon’s gone,” she snapped. “Do you know anything about this?”

  “She hasn’t spoken to me in a couple of weeks,” Jack answered softly.

  “Get me a phone,” Bobbi said sharply.

  “No, Jack, check downstairs and out on the deck for her first,” Chuck said. Jack nodded and left. “Don’t take it out on him.”

  She whipped around to face him, her teeth clenched in defiant anger. “Don’t tell me how . . .” Then her eyes met his and she collapsed on the bed, burying her face in her hands.

  He sat beside her and held her close. “Honey, let’s not jump to conclusions here. What if she just needed to get out of the house for a while?”

  She pushed away from him, indignant. “At seven a.m. on Saturday? Honestly, Chuck!”

  “Bobbi, you asked her to apologize last night, and she refused. She wrote you a note, and she’s processing all of it by herself before she comes back to face us.”

  “How can you be so sure?”

  “Because you’re the same way. Brad was the same way. Rita’s the same way. All of you react with these highly charged emotions, but then after you’ve some time to decompress, you work through the situation.” He squeezed her hand and walked to Shannon’s window. “Her car’s still here. If she’s not here, she’s probably stomping around the park, muttering at me under her breath.”

  Jack reappeared, and avoiding Bobbi’s eyes, he said, “She wasn’t downstairs.” He held the cordless phone out to Bobbi as if he expected to lose a hand. “Here’s the phone.”

  “Thank you, sweetheart,” she said gently, and he nodded. She punched in numbers then held it close. “She’s not answering.” She clicked the phone off and laid it beside her.

  “She’s not ready yet.”

  “When will she be ready?”

  “You tell me.”

  “I don’t know. I don’t know what she’s feeling, or what she’s thinking.”

  “Then let’s give her some space.”

  Bobbi crossed her arms across her chest and shook her head. “You have turned a hundred and eighty degrees from yesterday.”

  “Because yesterday I was wrong.”

  Just then, the phone rang and Bobbi snatched it up, then paled. “It’s the police,” she whispered. “I can’t . . .”

  Chuck took the phone from her trembling hands. “This is Chuck Molinsky.”

  “Yes sir, you have the law firm?”

  “Benton, Davis and Molinsky, yes. Why? What happened?”

  “Your building’s been broken into. We need you to come and give us an idea what’s missing.”

  He held the phone against his chest and took Bobbi’s hand. “It’s okay. Somebody broke into the office, that’s all.�
��

  “That’s all?”

  “Compared to whatever ran through your mind right now, it’s nothing.”

  “You need to get down there.” She pulled her hand back and stood up, steeling herself.

  “I can call Chad.”

  “No . . . Shannon will be home soon. You need to take care of this. I’ll be fine.”

  “Call me when she gets home.”

  “I will.” She kissed his cheek. “The minute she walks through the door.”

  * * *

  Shannon stuffed the envelope full of cash deep in her purse. Withdrawing her tuition money as cash wasn’t the brightest thing, she admitted, but she might need the money in the coming weeks and couldn’t risk her dad shutting the account down. Monday she’d open a new account at a different bank.

  “What else do you need?” Dylan asked as he pulled out of the bank’s parking lot.

  “Just the basics. A car, a place to stay and a job.”

  “Thought you had a car.”

  “Jack’s hand-me-down? No thanks. And the bookstore will be one of the first places my dad will check, so I can’t go back there.”

  “You don’t need a place to stay.” He grinned and looked over the top of his sunglasses at her.

  “Dylan, I cannot stay with you. Let’s grab something to eat and pick up a newspaper. I’m sure there are decent apartments around.”

  “What are you gonna do for a bed?”

  Subtle. Real subtle. Slimeball. “Furnished apartment.”

  “I gotta hand it to you, Shannon. This was a bold move, kissing off your parents that way.”

  “Not my parents, just my dad.”

  “He must have said some really harsh things.”

  Harsh, no. Her father was a first-class hypocrite, deflecting attention away from himself by harping on her, the disrespectful wild child. He’d never acknowledge the role Jack played in dragging Brad out on that street. Oh no, poor Jack was grieving. She wasn’t about to stay there.

  “Look, I don’t want to talk about that now,” Shannon said, staring out the window of Dylan’s car.

  “You don’t have to,” Dylan said, reaching across and putting a hand on her knee. “It’s all cool.”

  * * *

  Bobbi clicked the phone off and crossed another name off her list. Shannon had been gone for six hours and no one had seen her. With Chuck still gone, she paced, gulped coffee and dialed Shannon’s phone every fifteen minutes. The little reassurances she been whispering to herself all morning were losing their effectiveness.

  This wasn’t like Shannon. There was more than grief at work here. And she couldn’t dismiss it as just anger at Chuck. Bobbi knew that feeling of trapped desperation. She knew what it was like to be drowning and smothering at the same time, but yet be incapable of reaching for a lifeline. Shannon was there, and Bobbi was only a few steps behind her.

  Chuck worried about a curse. There was no curse, just a mother who couldn’t function, who couldn’t parent when her baby needed her. Paralyzed by her grief, she abandoned Shannon the very same way her father abandoned her.

  * * *

  As the minutes continued to tick by without a phone call from Bobbi, Chuck found it nearly impossible to focus on his office inventory. He brought Chad and Christine in to help him talk to the police but never mentioned what they were dealing with at home. They naturally assumed he was distraught over the break-in. Hardly. So some punks stole a half dozen computers. Insurance would replace the machines, and all the sensitive files were off-site on the server.

  When Chad volunteered to stay and help the IT guys get the office back online, Chuck couldn’t get to his car quickly enough. He blasted back toward home until he got to the park. Chuck rolled through it three or four times, zigging back and forth, willing Shannon to appear. When she didn’t, he wheeled the car around and headed home.

  What could he possibly tell Bobbi? He was certain, in the depths of his soul, that Shannon would be home by now. And he was wrong. How could he tell her everything would be okay when he no longer knew that?

  You brought this on all of us. . . . Everyone has paid because of you. . . .

  Chuck was all too familiar with the story of David and Bathsheba, and the judgment God levied on them after their adulterous affair—the death of their child, then violence and rebellion plagued their family.

  He and Bobbi had just lost a son through violence and now Shannon was playing the part of Absalom in open defiance of him. He couldn’t dismiss the connection.

  You brought this on all of us. . . .

  He saw Bobbi peering out the front window when he pulled into the driveway and she was on the porch before he got out of the car. The fear in her eyes spoke more than words ever could. “Call Joel,” he said.

  “He’s on his way.” She fell into his arms and clung to him. “What about your office?”

  “Nothing major. Computers, the conference room TV. Insurance will cover it. The agent’s already been there.”

  “I called . . . half her graduating class, I think. Left a message at Kara’s.”

  “That was good thinking.” He kissed her forehead and led her inside. “Rita and Gavin?”

  “I hadn’t yet. I guess . . . I guess I should. Did the police . . . I mean, did you think to ask them . . .”

  “She’s eighteen. She’s not a runaway. She’s not a missing person yet, and unless we suspect she’s in danger—”

  “What if we do?”

  “Then they’ll take a statement, but they’re not gonna comb the city.”

  “So they won’t do anything?”

  “It’s just a woman having a disagreement with her father.”

  She pushed away from him. “Why do we have police? Why do we even have them? Brad gets shot, Shannon disappears and—”

  “Honey—”

  “No, Chuck, I am at my limit. And if anything happens to Shannon . . . you’ll be burying me beside Brad.”

  * * *

  Shannon clutched the key and the paperwork for the used Civic. It was a little more than she hoped to pay, but it was a Honda. Reliability mattered now. On Monday, she’d buy her own insurance, and that would make it official.

  “All set?” Dylan flipped his phone closed and slid off the hood of his car.

  “Yep. Thanks for your help.”

  “No prob. I still feel like I owe you.”

  She felt her face flush when he smiled at her. Stupid involuntary reactions. “I’m gonna start checking out apartments, so I guess I’ll catch you later.”

  He dropped his head and kicked at a rock. “I know you don’t need my help, but . . . I mean, I just like hanging out with you.”

  “You want to follow me around looking at apartments?”

  “Yeah. Is that bad?”

  “Yes! It looks really bad. Like I’m looking for a place to shack up.”

  “I know better.”

  “But the landlords don’t.”

  “Just tell them I’m your brother.”

  “That’s even less believable.”

  “I’ll sit in the car and wait for you.”

  “That’s ridiculous. Why would you want to spend the afternoon sitting in your car in apartment complex parking lots?”

  “You’ll think it’s stupid.” He shuffled back toward his car, jingling his keys.

  “What?” She took a couple of quick steps to catch up with him.

  “I got you in really big trouble, but you don’t hate me. I’m not used to somebody treating me that way. You’re different . . . special, you know.”

  “You mean that?”

  “Well, yeah.”

  His eyes twinkled when he smiled this time, and Shannon suddenly felt dizzy. Dylan Snider thought she was special. Dylan, the party boy who could have any girl he wanted, and he wanted to spend the day with her. A very boring day at that.

  Her dad would totally blow a gasket if he knew she was with Dylan again. Imagine what he’d say if she started dating Dylan. She smi
led. “So . . . are you just gonna follow me then?” she asked.

  “Anywhere,” he said.

  He rested his elbows on his open car door, his face just inches from hers. He wanted to kiss her. Should she . . . ? Just then, her phone tweeted the arrival of a text message. “Ugh!” she muttered, digging through her purse until she found her phone. “My stupid brother.” She deleted the message without reading it.

  * * *

  Jack sighed and snapped his phone closed. Shannon wasn’t going to reply, even to an apology. Now his dad was back home, and there was no way he could watch them worry and wonder all afternoon. He had to confess.

  He tromped down the steps and found them in the kitchen, his mother in her usual spot, with her usual cup of coffee, but carrying the weight of the world. His dad sat next to her holding her hand, his face drawn the way it was the day after Brad was killed. Even so, his dad looked up and smiled. “Hey, Jack. I wondered where you were.”

  “Mom, uh, Mom said the office got broken into,” Jack said, buying some time, trying to soften his dad up.

  “It was no big deal. You haven’t heard from Shannon, have you?”

  Jack felt the breath press from his lungs. “Why would she call me or anything?”

  “Are you okay, sweetheart? You look a little pale.” His mother pushed a seat out for him. “Why don’t you sit.”

  He slumped into the chair, certain they could see his pulse throbbing in his neck. “Mom . . . Dad . . . I . . . I mean, Shannon . . . It’s my fault she’s not home yet.”

  “What?” his dad whispered. “How is it . . . ?”

  “I heard what she said last night. About my mother. What she called her.”

  Then his adopted mother reached over and squeezed his hand. “Sweetheart, I’m sorry. I’m sorry you heard such hateful—”