by Jo Davis
Calmly, Shane rested his arms on the table and pointed a finger at Drew. “Start talking.”
His Adam’s apple bobbed. “We—we just wanted to ride around for a while, a-and Ty said, ‘Let’s do this guy’s barn,’ that we wouldn’t get caught.”
He directed a glare at the other boy. To Ty’s credit, he flinched. Shane cut him no slack. “This was your idea, the sneaking out to go tagging?”
“Yeah. So?” He shrugged, mask slipping into place again.
“All right. Continue,” he ordered Drew.
“There’s not much else to tell,” the boy said nervously. “We sprayed the barn, then Ty wanted to do the house. We did some of that, and the owner came out with a shotgun and—”
“A what?” he snapped.
Cunningham nodded. “Yep. Scared the shit out of ’em on purpose. Said he knew what they were doing the whole time. Evidently our friend Ty here has made a nuisance of himself in the recent past, and this time Johnson was waiting.”
Shane’s blood boiled. The man could’ve hurt them with the gun, or worse. Even if he didn’t mean to shoot, so many things could have gone wrong, it made him sick. “Then why didn’t he stop them right away?”
“Said he needed a new coat of paint on both the barn and house, anyway, so he figured he’d let them get in trouble and save himself the work. That’s why he’s not filing charges—if they agree to his terms.”
“Of all the—” Cutting himself off, he shook his head angrily. He was still struggling for words when Daisy walked in, looking cool and confident. He could have kissed her.
“Someone care to fill me in?”
Shane repeated what everyone had told him, and she nodded when they were finished. “It seems like you boys were very lucky. Mr. Johnson was generous in offering to drop the charges in exchange for repair of the damage you caused. Since I doubt either of you are eager to face juvenile court, I think it’s a deal you should both accept.”
Shane knew she was being professional, and none of them could very well express their low opinion of Johnson in this setting or in regard to this situation. No matter what sorts of nefarious dealings the man was involved in, the boys were in the wrong. Shane just hated that the asshole was probably getting a good laugh out of this.
Drew agreed, though sullenly. “Whatever.”
Shane was going to carve that word out of the boy’s vocabulary if it was the very last thing he did.
“Fine,” Ty said with a shrug.
“What is your name?” Daisy asked the boy.
“Ty Eastlake.”
“Has your father been notified of what happened tonight, Ty?”
“Sure. He said he’d come get me as soon as he picked up his SUV from Mr. Johnson’s house.”
She looked to Cunningham. “And is Mr. Eastlake planning to press charges for theft of the vehicle?”
“No,” the redhead stated. “But he was pretty angry.”
Ty paled at that. Seemed he wasn’t as nonchalant as he appeared. In spite of his dislike of the kid, Shane found himself worrying over how the father might punish Ty.
Daisy returned her attention to the two miscreants, her expression serious, tone even. “I want you boys to understand how serious your actions were tonight. It goes beyond some paint on a wall. Do you realize that if you’d written anything that could be perceived as slanderous or targeting an individual because of his race, beliefs, preferences, or anything else personal, you could both be charged with a hate crime?”
“We didn’t!” Drew blurted. “We just scribbled stuff that didn’t mean anything!”
“I’m glad to hear that. But do you understand what could’ve happened to you?”
Drew mumbled, “We could get more jail time or higher fines, I think.”
“That’s right. Some offenders don’t make it that far, though. Especially when citizens wielding weapons take matters into their own hands. The two of you easily could’ve been shot by an overexcited or angry citizen.”
Ty scoffed. “Johnson wouldn’t dare, or my dad—” Abruptly, he broke off what he’d been about to say.
“Or your dad would what?” Daisy asked with interest.
“Nothin’.”
“Are your dad and Mr. Johnson already acquainted?”
The boy clamped his lips shut and looked away. That was interesting. And worth looking into later.
“In any case, since you both have agreed to repair the damage you’ve done tonight, we’re finished here,” she said briskly. “Detective Ford and Mr. Eastlake will set up dates for the repair work. Detective, you can take Drew home. And, Ty, you’ll need to wait here for your father.”
“Let’s go,” Shane told his boy, standing. Then to his colleagues, “Thanks. Talk to you both later.” He caught Daisy’s eye, hoping she got the silent message. He’d talk to her sooner rather than later. She gave him a slight smile as he walked out, Drew on his heels.
He remembered her earlier advice to be calm and understanding, but it was pretty damned difficult in light of being dragged out of bed—his lover’s bed—in order to deal with this bullshit. This was not what he’d signed up for, and he had a perfect right to be pissed about it.
He waited until they were in the truck before speaking. “Do you have any idea how disappointed I am in you?”
Shane’s own father had said that to him more than once, when he richly deserved it. At the time, however, he’d believed it was just something adults said to guilt-trip a kid into better behavior. Now he had a whole new appreciation for how much his father had meant what he said.
Drew hunched his shoulders, pressing himself as far as possible into the corner of the seat and door. “I said I’m sorry.”
“No, actually, you didn’t.”
“I thought I did.” The boy squirmed in his seat, looking everywhere but at Shane. “Fine. I’m sorry.”
“I don’t want to hear it if you don’t mean it.”
“What do you want from me?” Drew’s voice rose as he finally met Shane’s eyes. “I’m sorry, and I’m gonna fix the guy’s damned walls. Okay?”
“Watch your attitude. What would your dad say if—”
“Fuck you, Shane!” he exploded. “Don’t tell me what Dad would think or feel! You don’t know anything about what it was like to live with him!”
“Then tell me! How am I supposed to know anything if you don’t talk to me?”
Drew’s lips pressed into a thin line and he shook his head, glaring out the window. His chest was heaving with pent-up anger, but he offered nothing more. Shane gripped the steering wheel, a thousand remarks running through his head to sling back at the kid, none of them productive.
He settled on the truth. “Okay, since you don’t want to talk, I have a couple of things to say. I love you as though you’re my own, and I hope you truly know that. I apologize if it seemed like I was throwing your dad in your face, because that wasn’t my intent. I’d never intentionally hurt you.”
Silence. But some of the anger drained from the boy’s expression.
“But I have to say, I don’t deserve being cursed at, and that’s not the way we’re going to speak to each other. If you have something to get off your chest, talk to me like the man you want to be.”
Anger became misery as Drew hung his head, resting it against the window. “I’m sorry, for that and the thing with Johnson’s place.”
The statement, though still sullen, rang true this time. “All right, I accept. So, tell me why you did it.”
“I don’t know,” he said quietly. “It was stupid.”
“Yes, it was. And dangerous, too. The outcome could’ve been much worse, and that scares me more than you know.” He paused, wondering how much to say without violating policy. In this case, however, educating Drew was more important.
“We’ve suspected Franklin Johnson of various illegal activities for a while now, and we haven’t come up with the evidence to catch him in a felony yet. That man is dangerous, kiddo.”
<
br /> “What, like a psycho?”
“Not exactly. More like a man capable of taking care of potential problems—like a witness who might stumble onto something he’d done. He could have killed you boys and none of us ever would’ve known what happened to you, and I’m not kidding. Johnson is unpredictable and totally capable of murder, given the right motivation. Son, what you two did is like walking barefoot through a nest of cobras and somehow managing not to get bitten. Do you understand why I was so upset and afraid?”
The kid licked his lips nervously. Apparently, the warning had sunk in. “Yeah. I won’t screw around with anybody’s property again, so can we drop it now?”
“For the time being. What is Ty’s connection to Johnson?”
“I’m not sure. He hates the man, but he wouldn’t tell me any details.” He thought a second. “Except his dad and Johnson got into it recently. Johnson called his dad a bunch of names. That’s why Ty wanted to tag his place, because of what the man called his dad.”
An argument that could have started over business. Interesting. “Have you ever met Mr. Eastlake?”
“No, he’s never home. To hear Ty talk, he sounds like a real asswipe.”
“How so?” He already suspected he’d find out plenty if the man had a record—and he likely did, if he was acquainted with Johnson—but he wanted to hear about Eastlake from Drew’s perspective.
“Ty’s pretty casual about his dad’s temper, his drinking and knocking Ty around. Stuff like that, when the man bothers to come home. And it’s funny, they don’t seem to have much money, and their furniture is old and ratty, but he’s got this big new Escalade.”
Definitely worth looking into. “I don’t think I want you hanging around with Ty anymore.”
The defenses shot back up. “You can’t dictate who I can be friends with.”
“You’re right, I can’t. But I hope you’ll make some better decisions, especially when you’re with him. And it wouldn’t hurt to make more friends.”
“Whatev—”
“And learn some new words.”
Drew huffed, slouching in his seat again. “Are we done now?”
“Not quite. There’s someone else you owe an apology.”
The sun had risen by the time Shane pulled into Shea and Tommy’s driveway. Drew appeared properly repentant as they trudged to the front door, as he damned well should. Shane rang the bell and waited. It took a couple of minutes before Tommy swung open the door, wearing flannel sleep pants and no shirt, blond hair sticking in every direction.
His puzzled squint at seeing Shane on their doorstep so early was replaced by sheer bafflement when he spotted Drew hovering at Shane’s side. “What the heck? What are you doing out there, kid?” He glanced over his shoulder toward the direction of the bedrooms, as though wondering how the boy could be in two places at once.
“Can we come in?” Shane asked. “Drew has something to tell you.”
“Uh, sure.” Opening the door wider, he stepped aside and let them in. In the living room, Tommy yawned and scratched at his chest. “What’s going on?”
Shane nodded to Drew, who sucked in a deep breath. “I left your house when I shouldn’t have,” he said contritely. “I’m sorry.”
Tommy took a few seconds to process this. “You snuck out?”
“Yes. I— It won’t happen again.”
“I see.” Tommy mulled that over. “You ever done anything like that before?”
The boy flushed but shook his head. “No, I’ve never snuck out in the middle of the night before.”
“Before I worked for the Sugarland Fire Marshal’s office, I was a firefighter there. Did you know that?”
Drew nodded. “I remember. You had an accident in a fire and almost lost your hand.”
“That’s right.” The man paused, not bothered anymore by the story. He had another point he was trying to make. “In many ways it was a rewarding career, but there’s a part of that job I don’t miss at all. We got calls all the time to respond to all sorts of accidents involving young men and women, and many of those happened when those kids were out places they shouldn’t have been, especially after curfew.”
“I know where you’re going with this—”
“No, I don’t think you do. Your safety is one issue, but what about us?” He gestured between himself and Shane. “What about the folks who’ll have to scrape you off the pavement when you get yourself killed? How do you think we sleep at night after we see something like that?”
Drew stared at him.
Tommy went on, as serious as Shane had ever seen him. “A couple of years ago, when I was a brand-new paramedic, we got this call about a boy who’d touched a live power line while walking home from school. He wasn’t supposed to be on that street, taking the long way home, but he made two bad decisions that ended his life.”
“That wasn’t your fault,” Drew pointed out.
“No. But that call ended up being my very first attempt at performing CPR on an actual victim.” Tommy’s voice grew husky, his blue eyes bleak at the memory. “I’ll never forget the feeling of his chest under my hands, the blank look on his face. I had his life in my hands, and I couldn’t save him. It doesn’t matter that it wasn’t my fault. That boy’s death is something I’ll have to cope with for the rest of my life.”
Bless Tommy. Shane could’ve kissed him.
Drew studied his tennis shoes. “I get it.”
“Do you? I sure hope so. Every decision a person makes affects someone else eventually. I can’t tell you how many people I’ve seen at the end of their road because of bad choices. They all hurt not just emergency workers, but the countless loved ones they leave behind.”
“I never thought of it like that before.” The boy met his eyes again. “I guess you won’t want me staying at your house anymore, and I don’t blame you.”
The other man gave him a smile. “Hey, my lecture aside, I’m still pretty young myself.” Drew snorted at that as he went on. “Seriously, I’m a big kid at heart. Once is a mistake, and you’ve promised it won’t happen again, so we’re cool.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.”
“Thanks, Tommy.”
Shane rose and gestured toward the bedrooms. “Go get your stuff together so we can get out of their hair.”
His brother-in-law stepped in, clamping a hand on Drew’s shoulder. “I don’t want to end our visit on that note. Why don’t you let him hang with me for a while? I was about to get up, fetch my fishing pole, and go down to the bank to see what I can catch, if Drew wants to join me.”
“Do you mind? Please?”
He was about to say no, but the boy suddenly seemed excited, despite his lack of sleep and all the drama. Tommy was a good role model, and God knows Drew needed as many of those as he could get. And this would show the boy that the man truly had forgiven him for the stunt he’d pulled in sneaking out. “I guess that would be all right. As long as you send him home the second he wears out his welcome.”
Tommy laughed. “I doubt that’ll be a problem. Go on. We’re good.”
He turned to Drew. “I do want you back this afternoon so we can talk about when you and Ty are going to start your repair work.”
“Yes, sir.”
Well, that was more like it. As he pulled out of the drive to return to his own place next door, he couldn’t help but worry about Drew. Despite everyone’s support, the boy was lost. He’d prayed love and firm guidance would be enough. Now he wasn’t so sure.
One thing he was sure of—Ty Eastlake’s father was getting a visit from him very soon. Shane smelled a big rat.
And, eventually, he’d make it squeal.
7
He’d been awakened so damned early, Shane flopped on his bed the minute he got home around seven and immediately fell into a deep sleep.
When he woke up later that morning, he was disoriented and not much better rested than before. His dreams had been strange and disturbing. He had one where he�
�d been running, but he couldn’t see what was behind him. He just knew he couldn’t let the beast catch him, or he was dead.
He hated nightmares. He always wondered if they meant something prophetic, or if they were just the product of a brain that ran in fast-forward all the time, unable to rest even in sleep. Whatever the cause, he felt off-kilter.
A cup of coffee helped regain some of his equilibrium. A second cup while reading the morning paper and he was approaching human. He could pay a visit to Carl Eastlake now and hold his own. Briefly, he thought about taking Chris with him, but that would probably tip off the man that he was being watched. No, best to keep the visit from one father to another. Even though the bastard was a joke of a human being, much less a dad.
But it would give Shane the opportunity to glimpse the man’s private space. Something the police hadn’t been able to do before on their brief visits, at least not out of uniform, as a regular citizen. There had been plenty of official visits, though, with the police called by neighbors to break up domestic disturbances where Carl had been hitting his son, screaming at him day and night. A few had resulted in arrests, but not for battery, since the boy wouldn’t speak against his dad. No, the busts had been for public intoxication, minor possession of controlled substances, petty stuff. Nothing that kept him in jail for very long. The police knew he was into bigger shit; they just hadn’t been able to catch him. There wasn’t enough to hand over to the detectives in Shane’s unit to even begin to make a case.
Punching the address into his GPS, Shane set off for Eastlake’s place. It wasn’t hard to find—all he had to do was look for the mangiest, most weed-choked yard in the neighborhood and he was there. As he pulled up and parked at the curb, he grimaced. There was no sidewalk, and the dead brown weeds were thigh high. If it wasn’t the middle of winter, he’d probably end up with chiggers and ticks all over him. Hell, he might, anyway.
“Great.”
Wading through the mess, he stepped onto the front porch and hoped it would hold his weight. By some miracle it did, and he knocked, since the bell was broken. He waited for a couple of minutes and knocked again. When there was no response, he turned and stepped off the porch, deciding to have a look around the back of the house.
