Five Mountain Daddies

by B. B. Hamel

  My brother was murdered. I can’t forget that. Someone killed him violently, viciously, and we want to find that person and throw them in prison for a very long time. Whoever did it doesn’t want to be found, for obvious reasons.

  I can’t risk a distraction, either. One false step and we’re both screwed. And after that mystery man stopped by my apartment to root through my trash, I’m already scared enough. They know I’m on to them, that I’m the one helping to investigate this. They’re not going to back down until they scare me away, or worse.

  But on top of all that, Wyatt was my brother’s friend. That specter of Atticus is keeping me away from him, because I know Atticus wouldn’t have wanted me to get involved with his friends. Or maybe that’s just the old Cora talking, maybe he’d be happy that I found someone like Wyatt.

  It’s hard to say. The Atticus I used to know and the Atticus that got killed are two very, very different people.

  I reach the front door and don’t bother to knock. I push it open, stepping into the familiar living room. I shut the door behind me as my mother pokes her head out from the kitchen.

  “Hi, mom,” I say.

  “Come home to do laundry?”

  I wince a little bit. My mom still thinks I’m a little kid. “No, I actually do that at my own apartment.”

  “Right.” She has a cigarette in her hand, which makes me frown. I thought she quit a couple months ago, but I don’t say anything. “Well, come on in.”

  She’s sitting in the kitchen with her laptop on the table and a glass of wine next to it. She’s looking at Facebook, and I bet she’s been talking on the phone. This is a pretty typical Sunday morning for her, and it’s actually a good sign. Right after Atticus was found dead, she couldn’t do anything but lie in bed and drink. At least now she’s doing her drinking in the kitchen.

  “Want something to eat?” she asks me.

  “No, I’m okay.” I put my bag down on a chair. I open up the refrigerator and take out a Coke, popping it open.

  “Do you know how to block people on Facebook?” she asks me, sitting down again in front of her laptop and slipping some glasses onto her nose.

  I laugh a little. “Sure, why?”

  “It’s this guy from way back.” She frowns, shaking her head. “Keeps messaging me about Atticus.”

  “What kind of messages?” I ask, looking over her shoulder.

  “Trying to be nice. But really, wanting something.” She looks up at me. “Know what I mean?”

  I just nod. “Here, this is how you do it.”

  She shows me the guy’s page. He looks pretty bland, but they always do. Internet creeps are more common than genuinely nice people, unfortunately. I block him for her before sitting down in the chair across the table.

  “Thanks,” she says, stubbing out her cigarette. I sip my Coke. “What are you up to today?” she asks me.

  I shrug a little. “Probably seeing Wyatt later.”

  She raises an eyebrow. “Atticus’s old friend? The cop?”

  “That’s the one,” I say.

  “What are you hanging around him for?”

  I can’t bear to look at her. “We’re investigating the murder.”

  She goes silent. It’s that word, “murder,” she’s unable to say it. Makes her clam up whenever someone else does, like she’s in denial or something. Like they didn’t find her son’s body stabbed and shot.

  “You should let the police handle that,” she says finally.

  “Maybe. But let’s be honest, mom. They’re not exactly working hard.”

  Her face shows nothing. “I’m sure they’re trying.”

  “Maybe.” I finally meet her gaze directly. “Can you do me a favor?”

  She sighs. “What?”

  “Do you remember his ex very well?”

  “Which one?”

  “Kristi,” I say. “Short, hair dyed streaky blonde.” I hesitate before adding, “Junkie, like him.”

  That jogs her memory. “Never liked her.”

  “Were they close?”

  She shrugs. “He mentioned her once or twice.” She laughs suddenly. “She came over for dinner a few months ago.”

  “Really?”

  “She was so strung out, hell, so was he. I could tell, but I didn’t say anything. At the end of dinner, Atticus asked for money like always.”

  I nod, not surprised. “What was she like?” I press. “Did they seem like they got along?”

  She shrugs. “She was fine. Not the kind of girl I wanted him around, but what could I do?” She takes a big drink of her wine.

  I decide to change tack. “There’s someone else, a guy he was friends with.”

  “Honey, do we really need to do this?”

  “Yes,” I say. “The guy’s name is Jaxson.”

  Her face clouds over at that name. “I remember him,” she says.

  “Atticus didn’t tell me anything about his life. I think he tried to hide it all from me, except for when he asked for money, of course.”

  She nods at that. “Probably wanted to protect you. He’s your older brother.”

  “What do you know about Jaxson?” I ask her.

  “Nothing good. He’s trouble.”

  That part’s pretty clear to me already, but getting her to open up is like pulling teeth. It’s always been like that with my mother. She’d rather drink than talk about anything important, and for the most part, that’s been fine. I can ignore things just like she can. But this, we can’t ignore this.

  Atticus is dead, and his killer is still out there.

  “What’s he like now?” I ask her.

  She shrugs a little. “How should I know? Your brother didn’t tell me anything about his life.” She takes another drink. “Except for when he wanted money. And the occasional visit, which usually ended with him asking for money.” She makes a face. “I wish I hadn’t given him a dime.”

  “He would have found other, harder ways,” I say softly. “So he never mentioned Jaxson?”

  Mom shakes her head. “Not once. But I do know his parents, and they’re no good. They live over in the trailers on Maple, you know the ones.”

  I do know the ones. That’s this area’s infamous trailer park, the place that kids talk about with awe. It’s where all the bad people live, but really it’s just like any other trailer park. It’s funny how ideas can grow so big in the minds of kids.

  “Are you sure you don’t know anything about him?” I press a little harder. “Anything at all?”

  She sighs. “What can I say, honey? Other than that dinner with the girl, he barely talked to me.” She suddenly makes a face and cocks her head. “Actually, he did say something that night.”

  I lean forward in my chair. “What?”

  “When he asked me for money, he said something about having a big job soon with a friend of his, a guy I might remember.” She blinks, and looks at me. “Could that be Jaxson?”

  I frown. “Maybe. What kind of job?”

  “He just made it seem like he’d be able to pay me back as soon as the job was over. And the girl said that ‘J’ was going to take care of them. Whatever that means.”

  I finger my can of Coke, staring at the tabletop. Kristi talked about a “J,” could that be Jaxson? And this job Atticus was talking about, could it have been with Jaxson?

  It’s flimsy, and I probably would have overlooked it entirely if Jaxson hadn’t pulled that shit last night. He was clearly trying to scare us away. I assumed that was just because we were sniffing around the Niners, and he didn’t like that.

  But maybe it’s personal for him. Maybe he had some job with Kristi and Atticus, and the job went wrong. That could be why Kristi ran off to her mom’s.

  I stand up suddenly. “Thanks, mom.”

  She looks surprised. “That’s it?”

  “Sorry, I gotta go.”

  “Some kid you are.”

  I go over and kiss her cheek. “At least I’m not asking for money.”

&n
bsp; She makes a face. “Yeah, you got that going for you.”

  “I’ll see you later.”

  “Yeah, yeah.”

  I grab my purse and hurry back outside and down to my car. I get my phone out and call Wyatt. He answers on the second ring.

  “Can we meet up?” I say to him.

  “Hello to you too,” he answers. “Yeah, we can meet up. I knew you couldn’t stay away.”

  “Cut it out, I’m serious. My mom said something just now.”

  “What is it?” he asks.

  “I’ll tell you in person. Meet me at the Great American, okay?”

  “Okay,” he says. “When?”

  “Right now. Ten minutes.”

  “See you there.”

  I hang up my phone and start my engine. I’m not sure if what I’m thinking makes any sense, so I have to run it by Wyatt. He’ll know what to make of this, if anything.

  But I can see this. I can see how this might make sense. I drive fast, heart beating hard, nerves running all along my skin.

  10

  Wyatt

  Absolutely not.” I shake my head, not even considering it. “No way.”

  “Come on, Wyatt, Just listen.” Cora pleads with me.

  “Listen, you saw what happened last night. You were right there.”

  She rolls her eyes. “I know.”

  “So how do you think this is a good idea?” I ask.

  She takes a deep breath and lets it out, hesitating a second. I take a look around the room. The Great American is crowded for a Sunday morning. The coffee’s hot, though, and Cora’s looking at me with that concerned expression. Like she thinks I’m an idiot for being cautious or something.

  “Atticus went to my mom’s like a month before he was killed,” she tells me finally. “She says he was looking for money, like usual, but he said something strange.”

  That gets my attention. “What did he say?”

  “He said that he had a job coming, and that he could pay her back once it worked out. His girlfriend was there, too.”

  “Kristi?” I cock my head, eyes narrowing.

  “Bingo. And she mentioned someone named ‘J’ taking care of them.”

  I sigh. I don’t like where this is going, not at all. “And you think that’s Jaxson.” It’s a huge assumption based off of the memory of her drunk mother and an offhand comment by an addict.

  “Exactly,” she says. “What if this job has something to do with what happened?”

  “It’s a stretch,” I say seriously. “A really big one.”

  “You saw the way Kristi was acting. And Jaxson threatening us like that?” She shakes her head, blowing on her coffee to cool it down slightly. “Come on, Wyatt. It doesn’t get more suspicious.”

  “I can’t deny that,” I admit. I was thinking the same thing. “But you want to stroll right into the lion’s den.”

  “It’s his parents’ trailer,” she says. “What’s he going to do, murder us in front of them?”

  I grin. “Sure, maybe. You know how those trailer park people can be.” She rolls her eyes at that and gives me a look. She didn’t like that joke. “Anyway, how do you even know that he still lives with his parents?”

  “Facebook. He doesn’t say it, but I’ve seen a bunch of pictures lately taken at a trailer. I’d bet anything that’s his parents’ place.”

  “It’s a stretch,” I say again, but this time I’m starting to consider it, despite myself. If he really is living with his parents, then it would be somewhat safe to show up there, though I don’t know how it’ll make him react. “A really big stretch. You want to take a big risk based entirely on a guess.”

  “Yeah, I do,” she says earnestly. She leans forward and locks eyes with me. “Because you’re leaving soon, and this may be the best lead I get before you go. So I might as well chase this now, with you here to protect me, instead of doing it after you leave.”

  I stare at her for a second, slightly annoyed. She smiles sweetly at me, batting her eyelashes, which just makes me groan. “You’re blackmailing me, you know,” I say.

  “I know,” she answers, grinning.

  “I knew you were trouble.”

  “So you’ll do it.”

  “We’re eating breakfast first,” I say, flagging down the waitress.

  I know I don’t have any other choice. She’s going to do this idiotic thing no matter what, and she’s right, I am leaving soon.

  The thought isn’t comforting, not at all. I don’t want to leave her, not when I’ve dragged her deeper into this. Jaxson saw us together, they’re staking out her house, and who knows what else. She’s in danger, and I’m going to abandon her, go back to my own life, and try to forget all about this.

  I doubt I can, which means I don’t know what the fuck I’m going to do.

  For now though, we’re going to Jaxson’s house, the guy that threatened us. It’s totally stupid and irresponsible and yet I can’t say no to her, and that’s maybe the most dangerous part of this whole thing.

  * * *

  We stop in front of the trailer and I kill the engine. “Listen to me. I have one rule.”

  She looks at me with that cute, innocent stare, really playing it up. “Yes, sir?”

  I roll my eyes. “Just listen, okay? If I tell you to run the fuck away, you run away. If I tell you to dive onto the ground and scream, you do it. Okay?”

  “I’ll do what you say, I promise.”

  “Good.” I pop open the glovebox and pull out my gun. She gapes at it as I check the slide and inspect the magazine. “You ready?”

  I don’t say anything about the gun. I can tell it makes Cora uncomfortable based on the way she keeps looking away from it. “Let’s go,” I say.

  We climb out of the car and I slip the gun into my waistband. We walk up to the front of the trailer and I knock this time, taking the lead.

  An older woman answers the door. She’s older than my mom, wrinkled with frizzy, untamed hair and golden brown skin like she spends hours in a tanning bed.

  “Who are you?” she croaks.

  “Ma’am, I’m Wyatt, friend of Jaxson’s.”

  She stares at me for a second. “You don’t look like his friend.”

  I grin. “Thank you.”

  She sighs and turn away from the door. “Jaxson!” she screams. “Friends are here!”

  “What the fuck, ma?” he shouts back. She slowly walks back into the trailer. I catch a glimpse of a cigarette in the ash tray, a game show on TV, and a cat prowling along the floor. Jaxson comes around the corner.

  “Who the fuck is—” He stops when he spots me and Cora.

  He glances at his mother and back to us. I can tell he’s trying to decide what he wants to do in this situation. He’s not wearing a shirt, just a pair of baggy jeans. He hesitates a second, wondering if he should turn back, but I shake my head subtly. I don’t want him going into that room again and coming back out with a gun.

  He sets his jaw and comes to the door. “The fuck you want, Wyatt?”

  “Can we talk?” I ask him.

  He shrugs. “I’m listening.”

  I stare him down. “Outside.”

  He glances back. “Ma, I’ll be out front.” He opens the door and steps out. He pulls it shut behind him and walks out toward the street.

  We follow him. He doesn’t bother looking at Cora. He crosses his arms and turns on me.

  “This was a big fucking mistake, Wyatt,” he says, showing his teeth.

  “Relax,” I say. “We’re not here to stir shit.”

  “You’re not?” he asks. “You here to talk about the old days?”

  “Sure,” I say. “Why not?”

  He laughs and eyes me. “Fuck you, Wyatt. You were always such a boring kiss ass, you know that?”

  My eye twitches but I keep it together. “Do you know Atticus’s ex?” I ask him suddenly.

  “Kristi?” he says, and then instantly I can tell he regrets that response.

  I smile
at him. “Yeah, that’s the one.”

  He clearly didn’t mean to give that up. “What about her?” he asks.

  “She’s been pretty hard to track down,” I say, glancing at Cora. She keeps her face straight, not giving anything away.

  “Yeah, why you lookin’ for her?”

  “You know why, Jaxson. She might know something.”

  He shakes his head, grinning. “You still don’t get it?”

  “I guess not. Explain it to me.”

  “Atticus is a fucking nothing,” he says. “A little fucking worm that got stomped on. You fucking think anyone cares about him?”

  “Kristi might,” I say.

  “Kristi don’t give a fuck about him, nobody does.” He looks at Cora. “Sorry, kid, but it’s the fucking truth. Your brother was scum, pure and simple.”

  “What do you think you are?” Cora snaps at him.

  He grins at her. “Got a mouth on this one,” he says.

  “Jaxson,” I say, pulling his attention back to me. “Where’s Kristi?”

  “Dunno. With her mom, I bet.”

  I nod at that. So the guy knows Kristi, and knows her well enough to guess right. Either that, or he actually does fucking know where she is right now.

  Still, this means he knows her, and probably pretty well.

  “Were you close with Atticus before he died?” I ask him, changing the subject.

  “The guy hung around me and my boys, but no, fuck him,” Jaxson says. “And fuck you too, Wyatt. I’m not talking to you.”

  “Why not?” I ask him.

  Jaxson must suddenly realize that he has no reason to answer my questions. “Because fuck you, that’s why. You come here again, I will go back for that gun and murder you dumb ass. You get me?”

  “You shouldn’t toss around threats, Jaxson,” I say. “I’ve been nice.”

  “Fuck your nice, bitch.” He turns to Cora. “And you, well, you better stay safe, yeah?”

  He cackles and heads back to the trailer. We stand and watch him go. I cross my arms and only relax when he’s finally inside.