by Jen Talty
Instead, he said nothing, like an idiot.
He collected his thoughts and asked again, “Did you call the cops when Taylor threatened you?” According to most of the reports, Hannah got on a boat, hit a rock in the middle of the lake, and subsequently drowned. Simple. However, Frank didn’t buy it.
Lacy tossed her hands to the side and rolled her eyes. “I’ve called you guys twice now, but no one is willing to do anything.”
“Who came? A Trooper? Sheriff? Local P.D.?”
“Does it matter?”
“In a way. If it was someone from my office, the report would’ve ended up on my desk.” She opened her mouth, but he just kept talking. “But if the report was filed with the sheriff’s office or the local police, I might not have gotten it.”
“It was a local guy, but don’t you guys work together?”
“Most of the time, but there are jurisdiction issues here and there, and when a case is considered closed—”
“That’s the problem. My sister didn’t die accidentally. She was murdered, but no one wants to deal with that.” The fire in Lacy’s eyes sputtered out as she fell back into the chair she’d been sitting on when he’d first pulled up.
“What did Taylor do to you?” Frank took a chance and sat down next to her. She didn’t protest, so he stayed put.
“The trailer has been broken into twice, but I can’t prove it’s him.”
“Anything missing? Damaged?”
“You believe me?” She looked at him with a blank expression.
“I believe you’re scared and Andy’s in trouble. I know the case and think your concerns should be looked into.”
“But the other cops that have been here think the break-ins are the hoodlums Andy’s been hanging with, or possibly Andy looking for attention. They all think I’m nuts.”
“And that could all be true.” Frank wiped his brow, then quickly added, “I’ll do some checking around and get back to you. In the meantime, keep Andy out of trouble.” Frank rose and adjusted his hat on his head before slipping his sunglasses on. “Are you going to be at The Lake Pub tonight?”
She titled her chin, covering her forehead with her hand as if it were a visor. “You have got to be kidding. You’re hitting on me?”
“Just asked a question.”
“I work very little there since it’s not always easy for me to get a babysitter.” She stood up. “Thank you for looking into things. That, I do appreciate, but you’re a cop, so forget it.”
He pulled out his business card and jotted his personal cell number on the back. “Call me day or night. Only call 9-1-1 if it’s a dire emergency, and even then, still call me directly.” He tipped his cap and headed for his boat. “I’ll do what I can.”
First, he’d make a few phone calls and then pull all his files on Hannah’s case so he could figure out if his hunch had been correct. He couldn’t argue with the medical examiner, since they’d ruled the death a drowning, but no one had ever ruled out that someone might have drowned Hannah on purpose.
* * * * *
The next evening, hours after the sun had set and darkness filled the sky, Lacy sat in the front yard wrapped in her favorite fleece blanket, listening to the crickets. The fuzzy fabric felt soft against the parts of her skin not covered by her clothing. Amazing how the night temperatures could be so different from the heat of day. Staring up into the wild starry blanket, she realized she’d forgotten how beautiful this part of the world could be, even in a trailer park.
The cool waters of Lake George were always clear under the brightness of the sun. A sense of calmness echoed with each wave rolling gently into the shoreline, making this area appealing to tourists for the sole purpose of relaxing. However, the dark and mysterious black waters under the grey moonlight of night, mixed with the craziness of the village nightlife, sent an intense shiver up her spine. The dead dark of night only added to her loneliness, even with the constant humming of chatter in the background. She missed her sister. Missed the world she had run from all those years ago, but when she came back, it was gone.
In the village there were arcades, an amusement theme park, miniature golf, waterslides, and endless ice cream shops for kids. Different types of bars lined the streets with every imaginable kind of music blaring from inside, nestled in between quaint little shops with all sorts of trinkets to help you remember your trip to town. Even Hells Angels made it a point of making it one of their annual party stops.
It was a nice place to be unless you lived in a trailer park and didn’t have the money to enjoy what the village had to offer. Lacy didn’t even like the village anymore. It wasn’t Vegas. Then again, did she really miss Vegas all that much? She missed the money she could be making, but she didn’t miss the shadiness of the city. It was called ‘Sin City’ for a very good reason, and part of her was damn glad to be out of there. However, she was completely unprepared to be here, and responsible for Andy.
She rubbed her hand against the blanket and pulled it tight trying to ignore her neighbors as they hovered over a blazing bonfire just twenty feet from where she sat. She couldn’t be anywhere on her small patch of rented space without staring at another trailer, someone’s truck, or a gathering of people she’d rather not know. When she’d been a kid, she and her sister would sneak down to the public beach and watch the waves roll in as if they didn’t have a care in the world. Nothing existed but them, the soft sand, and the lake. They didn’t talk, just watched the dark water. Sometimes they dared each other to skinny dip, but Hannah had always been afraid. She’d worried she might drown. Lacy pulled the blanket tighter around her body.
Before she moved away, she thought nothing ever happened in this small town. Well, nothing but bad things, and maybe that was still true. After her father died, she saw no reason to stay, so one day she’d closed her eyes and pointed to a random spot on the map. Vegas. With a few thousand dollars to her name, she’d left her sister and nephew behind for the bright lights of a city she knew nothing about. Through trial and error, she’d found a decent job in one of the more prestigious hotels, and thought her life was going somewhere.
She hadn’t been there long when the phone call from some stranger had come telling her Hannah’s body had been dragged from the bottom of the lake, and Andy had been placed in foster care.
Hannah left everything she owned to Andy, which included a ten thousand dollar life insurance policy, making him vulnerable to a father who had never wanted him in the first place. Well, Lacy wouldn’t let that happen. She’d never really thought about having kids of her own, didn’t think she’d make a good parent, but she’d be damned if she’d let a sick bastard like Taylor get his grubby hands on Andy.
Even though there wasn’t much of a breeze, a cold shiver rose up her spine.
How did I get here? The good lawyers she needed to fight Taylor cost money. Money she didn’t have. Her job at The Beach Side Hotel wasn’t enough, and Andy certainly wasn’t helping with all of his shenanigans making her look like an unfit guardian. Her best bet was someone like Frank who just might believe her story. Or at the very least, check it out. No one had ever suggested there might be some validity to her complaints.
She wanted to believe in Frank, but she didn’t trust cops. They lied to cover their own asses, and they shot innocent people like her father.
Loud music echoed in the night from another trailer, but that didn’t muffle the twig that snapped from somewhere behind her. She gripped her cell phone as the air in her lungs deflated. Slowly, she turned to look over her shoulder.
The house was dark except for the single nightlight glowing in the kitchen window. It had been at least an hour since Andy had fallen asleep, so it couldn’t have been him. She heard faint footsteps right before a loud bang, followed by shattering glass. Suddenly lights flashed in the grassy roadway. A pick-up truck squealed its tires as it sped through the trailer park.
“Damn you,” she whispered, fiddling with the phone and digging in her pockets f
or Frank’s card. With trembling hands, she punched the numbers and ran toward the house.
“Aunt Lacy!” Andy cried out. “Where are you?”
“Right here,” she hollered back. “Are you hurt?” she questioned him as she bolted through the front door. “Did you see anything?”
“Harmon here,” Frank’s voice bellowed in her ear.
She jumped. “Shit, you scared me.”
“Hey, you called me. Who is this?”
“It’s Lacy. Could you come over? Something’s happened.”
“Aunt Lacy, look.” Andy pointed to a rock.
“Someone tossed a rock through my window,” she said, knowing it had to be Taylor. Who else would want to scare her?
“I’ll be there in ten. Hang tight and don’t touch anything.” The phone went dead.
“Was that the cop from yesterday?” Andy asked, his tone back to its normal negative pitch, but terror still lurked in his almond colored eyes.
“He’s going to help us.” She hoped. A sense of desperation had forced her to call.
“All he wants is to get into your pants.” Andy turned to leave.
“Oh, no you don’t, buster. Sit your ass down in that chair and wait for Sergeant Harmon. And you’re going to be polite.” She opted to ignore Andy’s other comment. She knew he’d only said it to get a rise out of her. The shrink told her to focus on his attitude, not his words. “And change your tone.” Besides, she wanted to believe that Frank was being genuine, but he was a cop. And a man. Two strikes against him in her book.
He rolled his eyes. “Yes, ma’am.”
She stared at him, trying to ignore the urge to throttle him. Rarely did he call her Aunt Lacy. It usually happened when he wanted something, when he was in trouble, or when he had the nightmare. She hated the nightmare because she couldn’t figure out the parts he yelled out, and he wouldn’t clue her in on the dream. He always said it was nothing, but she knew better. That dream held some of the answers to their problems.
“What happened to you?” she whispered, but by the way Andy flinched, she knew he had heard her.
“You spend too much time talking with that doctor. She thinks I’m suffering from some post-bad-thing or something.”
“Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder.”
“Whatever.” Andy plopped down on the couch, grabbed the remote, and started flipping through the channels. “Maybe if you just let me be, I’d be normal.”
Normal? Was he serious? There wasn’t anything normal about their situation. Mentally counting to ten so she didn’t say something she’d regret later, Lacy stepped out onto the front stoop. She leaned against the side of the house and waited until she could see red lights flickering from the main road. A State Trooper car rolled to a stop in front of her and Frank stepped from the vehicle.
She tried not to notice Frank, or the reaction her body had to him, but from the moment she’d first met him, she thought he was attractive. More like damn hot. He had blue eyes, dark hair, and tanned skin. His body was long and lean, not bulky like some cops. She’d never seen him in anything other than a white T-shirt, jeans, and a baseball cap, until yesterday, when he showed up in uniform, which changed everything.
“Thanks for coming.” She pushed herself from the house and pointed to the window. “Andy was asleep on the couch. He says he didn’t see anything. All I saw was a dark pick-up race away. I know it had to be Taylor.”
“Does Taylor see Andy regularly?”
“What does that have to do with a rock in my window?”
“It might go to motive,” Frank responded as he scanned the area in true cop form.
She wasn’t sure what he meant by motive, but it couldn’t hurt to answer the question. “Taylor isn’t supposed to have any contact with Andy unless it’s planned and supervised by the social worker in charge of the case.”
“I see.” Frank peered in the window and then took a few steps backward, hands on his hips as he looked around. “Who had custody before Hannah died, and why is there an issue now?”
“Hannah had custody, and Taylor rarely forced the minimal visitation he had a right to. I was named Andy’s guardian, but Taylor has all of a sudden decided he wants to be a father.” She pushed open the door and let Frank in, mentally giving herself a kick in the ass for checking him out, but he looked damn good in the uniform.
“Where’s Andy now?”
“Back on the couch, sulking.” She sighed, propping herself against the doorjamb. She was tired of seeing Andy upset and on edge all the time but she didn’t know what to do to help him. “Things had been going well enough until the papers came indicating that visitation by Taylor would be mandatory soon,” she heard herself say. Shut up, Lacy.
Frank glanced at her. “Could Andy have done this?”
“No,” she snapped. “Or did you already forget the truck burning rubber out of here moments after it happened?” She took in a few deep breaths trying to calm herself down. Andy might be a troubled kid, but he wouldn’t do this. She had to believe that.
“Just asking,” he said. “I’ve got a couple of buddies coming.” Frank made some notes on a pad while he looked around the kitchen. “Can you give me a description of the vehicle?”
“Dark pick-up, like Taylor’s.” She folded her arms across her chest. There was no stopping the fury pumping through her veins. Damn cops were all the same.
“I know at least ten people with dark trucks. Did you actually see him? Anyone?” Frank snapped on plastic gloves as he scanned the room. He seemed intent and focused. Very different from the laid back, easy-going guy she’d met at the restaurant.
“I heard him, but didn’t actually see him.” She so wanted to lie and say she’d seen the license plate number, or saw him, or something, but if she got caught, it would only make her look bad.
He turned to face her, his eyes narrow and his jaw set in a determined line. “Anyone ever hear him threaten you? Say bad things about you?”
She paused, unsure of the turn in conversation. Why would he care? Did he believe her? “Not that I know of. Why?”
“What about Andy?”
She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I’m not sure.” All these questions were throwing her for a loop. The last time cops where here, they hadn’t seemed interested in her problem with Taylor, and had just placed the blame on Andy and his punk friends.
“Mind if I talk with Andy?”
“About what?” Even if Andy did see something, he’d never turn in his father. And she didn’t really want Frank to upset him more.
“He might be able to offer a clue, even if he doesn’t think he saw or heard anything. You never know.” Frank’s expression softened as he made eye contact with her, almost as if he cared.
“Go ahead.” She waved Frank toward the back of the trailer. “Just be careful; he can be a tad testy.”
“So I’ve seen.”
She stifled her chuckle. It wouldn’t be appropriate, but Frank hadn’t seen anything yet. Whatever had happened to Andy had changed his soul. She watched Frank move the ten steps from the kitchen to the family room. Maybe this is exactly what the doctor ordered.
Maybe Frank, uniform and all, could break down the barriers Andy had built up, and just maybe she’d be able to figure out what Andy was hiding.
And put Taylor where he belonged.
Chapter Two
AS SOON AS STATE Trooper Reese McGinn arrived, Frank moved from the small kitchen to the middle of the trailer, letting Reese take over the evidence collection. When Frank had taken the domestic disturbance call last May, he had no idea there could be a kid in the trailer. It wasn’t until a few weeks after Hannah’s death that Frank found out Hannah even had a kid.
“What are you watching?” he asked Andy, scanning the room. The dull carpet almost matched the sagging, beige chair that Frank had settled on. He shifted, trying to find a soft spot for his ass, but there were only lumpy, rock like formations. Andy appeared to ignore him, fixing his
gaze on the television. “These cop shows always crack me up,” Frank added, hoping to lighten the mood.
“Next you’re going to tell me this shit happens to you all the time.”
Frank chuckled. “Not even close. That’s why it makes me laugh.”
“Oh, that’s right, I forgot. You’re like a rent-a-cop on a boat.”
Now that wasn’t funny. “I’m not a rent-a-anything, dude. I’m the real deal.” Something told Frank that even if Andy did know something about the rock, it was going to be like pulling teeth to get the kid to talk.
“You’re, like, way too old to say ‘dude.’”
“Really, how old is old?” Frank forced his face to remain flat when what he wanted was to put the kid in his place. “Hell, I’m only twenty-five, dude,” he said it again just to be annoying. That generally worked with his brothers.
Andy didn’t laugh, just shook his head. “You ever had to shoot anyone?”
“That’s not something I like to talk about, but yeah, I have.” Maybe being open with this kid, gaining his trust, might give Frank the opportunity to find out what he might know about his mom’s alleged accident.
“Ever kill anyone?” Andy still didn’t glance his way.
Frank decided that answering that question would open an assortment of problems he wasn’t prepared to deal with. “Have you seen your dad lately?” One of the reports said Andy had been with some friend the night of the disturbance and the night of the murder, but Frank didn’t buy it, and he planned on finding out exactly where Andy had been.
“Here and there,” Andy replied, but there was a slight tremor in his tone.
“Do you like your dad?” Frank knew this could be dangerous, but he had to find out how this kid really felt about his father.
Andy shrugged.
Okay, not making much headway. Time for a new tactic. “You want to live with your dad?”
Andy flung his feet to the floor, bolting upright. His face turned beet red. “Not something I like to talk about.”
