Trial By Fire (Rainbow Cove Book 1)

by Jet MacLeod

  Trial By Fire 5

  Trial by Fire

  A Rainbow Cove Novel

  JET MacLeod

  Copyright © 2012, Jet MacLeod

  All rights reserved

  Printed in the USA

  Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise), without the prior written permission of the copyright owner and author of this book.

  This is a work of Fiction. names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used factiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Dedicated to all those who said you could never go home again

  …

  Home is where you make it…

  …

  …Home can be a person

  …

  This is for my new “Home”

  Chapter One

  She rolled over in the bed, waking to find that she was naked to the waist. She looked around the room, only to realize that is was hers. She was in her parents’ lake house. She was starting to remember everything.

  She sat up quickly only to lay right back down. Her head was pounding with a hangover. She tried to remember how she got home. She couldn’t. She could remember going to the club and getting buzzed, but she couldn’t remember how she got home. She shook her head in dismay of herself.

  “Good job, Gracie, just what you needed to do last night,” she chided herself, “What the hell were you thinking? You’re a cop and you drove home. Good fucking job. You aren’t going to make it here if you don’t get it together.”

  She walked into the kitchen for a glass of water. She pulled a glass out, filled and drained it and repeated the process twice. After she had hydrated herself, she decided that taking a shower was in order. Not trusting herself to stand that long, she prepared a bath, and gathered her things together to change into when she was done.

  When she got out, she dried off and wrapped herself in a thick, plush terry cloth towel around the waist. She opened the bathroom door and headed down the hall. She figured she was mentally ready for the day and was still trying to forget last night when Grace heard her voice.

  “Gracie Lynn O’Shea, what do you think you are doing?” the voice asked, sternly.

  “Hello, Mum,” she replied simply.

  Great, this is just what I need, Grace thought to herself. She managed to smile at the woman before she retreated into the room she was using.

  “What are you doing here?” her mother asked her, through the door.

  “Well, I just finished my bath,” she answered, peering around the bedroom door, “I was fixing to change into some clothes.”

  “That isn’t what I meant and you know it,” her mother argued.

  “Well, what did you mean?” Grace asked her.

  “You could have called and told us you were coming into town. We would have straightened up or something. We would have liked to have known,” her mother answered.

  “I always thought it was ours to use as we pleased,” she said.

  “It is, but I would prefer not to be called by the neighbors to be told you were home,” her mother stated.

  Here we go again. The constant why couldn’t you be nicer to us spiel. Blah…blah…blah…couldn’t she come up with something better over all the years? God, how my head aches…do I really have to listen to this? Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know I am a horrible child, she thought.

  “Are you listening to me?” her mother demanded.

  “Yes,” she answered curtly.

  “I would prefer not to get calls from the neighbors about bringing you home drunk. Think about how that reflects upon us, darling. Think about what they will say about your father,” her mother stated.

  “Yeah, I know…but then, what do I care? He never cared enough to do anything for me. Why should I care about his reputation?” Grace asked her mother.

  “Grace Lynne O’Shea!”

  “Yes, Mother?”

  “I don’t know what I did, where I went wrong, how did this happen?” her mother questioned.

  “Well, let’s see, how about not talking to me for five or ten years…that will put a definite damper on things, don’t you think?” Gracie answered smartly.

  “I don’t know what I am going to do with you,” her mother replied.

  “How about something I’ve only always wanted from you and father?” Grace offered.

  “What is that?” her mother asked.

  “To love me, unconditionally,” Grace answered.

  Grace watched her mother wince in pain, before she ducked back into her room completely. She knew that it was a low blow and she would apologize for it later once her hangover dissipated. At the moment, she really didn’t care.

  Grace stared into the mirror in her room. She glanced at the pictures that she had used to frame the glass. At near six feet tall, she towered over most of the other subjects in the photos. She had to laugh to herself about that because she was taller than her parents as well.

  She ran a hand through her short, spiky black hair. She dressed in a cream colored body tight shirt and a pair of blue jeans shorts. She finished her morning ritual and spiked her hair with her hair gel. She decided that she would have to deal with her mother sooner or later.

  She grabbed her wallet and keys and decided to go.

  She met her mother at the end of the hall. Her mother was as Catholic and Irish as her father. The older woman stood there in that doorway with all five and a half feet of her body and prepared for a battle with her child. The dark blue eyes of her mother met Grace’s piercing iced-blue eyes. The lines had been drawn and now the battle was about to begin.

  “Gracie, we need to talk,” her mother said.

  “About what, Mother?” Grace asked.

  “Why are you back in Columbia?”

  “Because I got tired of Atlanta,” Grace stated.

  “Is that all?” her mother asked.

  “No, but that is all that matters,” Grace answered.

  “It was Camille, wasn’t it?”

  “If you really must know, then yes. It was her fault. I’ve decided to move back, if that is okay with you and Father,” Grace finally admitted.

  “Here, you want to move here?”

  “Yes, I like it here. It is peaceful,” Grace stated.

  “And, what about your job?”

  “I quit. I was tired of that. Too much devastation, everyday, it’ll break you. It broke me,” Grace replied.

  “But, what about money?” her mother asked.

  “I have enough left in the trust, plus some returns from some very good investments that I have made over the last few years. I will not have to worry about anything for a while. I was good to my savings. That is one lesson that Father can be happy about,” Grace answered.

  “Ah, well, you will have to talk to your father about the house. He was planning on selling it,” her mother said.

  “Selling it? Why? Why would he do that?”

  “Because we don’t use it. You haven’t been seen in it in years. He figured it was time,” her mother responded.

  “Tell him that I will buy it. Whatever the asking price, I will pay it. I am going to have this house,” Grace states as an oath.

  “That is between you and your father, my dear. I will not be your go between anymore. If you want the house, then you had better talk to him yourself,” her mother told her.

  “I will.”

  “Grace, look, I know you
and your father don’t exactly see eye to eye,” her mother started.

  “Yeah, well, I guess that would be hard considering he is only like what five foot six or something,” Grace answered smartly.

  “Gracie Lynne! Be nice. He was mightily upset that Reagan called us about you the other night. I have to admit, that it wasn’t the phone call that I expected to get at two a.m. I was scared to death that something had happened to you in Atlanta and that is was your captain calling. I was pissed when she told me what happened. How could you do that, Gracie? What were you thinking?” her mother demanded.

  “I wasn’t,” Grace admitted.

  “Well, that’s for sure…wait, you just agreed with me. What happened, Grace?” her mother asked.

  “Too much for me to bear anymore,” she said simply.

  “You want to tell me about it?” her mother inquired.

  “Not really. I am sorry. I promise I won’t get drunk enough for someone else to bring me home like that again, especially some noisy neighbor,” Grace stated.

  “Gracie, that isn’t what I want. You’re Irish and you drink, you know what that means. I just want you to be careful, Darling. I love you. I don’t want to lose you like I lost my brother Colm. I love you, damn it. I wish you would believe that,” her mother stated.

  “I guess I would have, had you not turned me out when I told you I was gay. It was scary trying to tell you. Then you threw me out. Then, I became a cop and not in NYC, so I become a bigger family disgrace. Just admit that I wasn’t your favorite there for a while,” Grace said.

  “True, Gracie, you did do some off the wall things, but we still loved you. I might not have agreed with your choices in life, but I still love you. I will always love you.”

  “Well, maybe if you showed it better, I could believe you. Anyway…wait, you said that Reagan called you, right? Reagan who?” Grace questioned her mother.

  “Reagan Knightley, she lives just around the cove. She bought the house there about two years ago. I think you know her from somewhere but I’m not sure where. She was surprised to see you at that club that night or at least, that is what she said,” her mother stated.

  “Reagan Knightley…great,” Grace said.

  “You know her?” her mother asked.

  “Oh, yeah, I know her. She was the weird, gothic girl in high school. She was poor and not exactly in my circle of friends, nor we’re her parents in yours,” Grace answered.

  “Well, she seems like a nice girl. She is always sweet to your father and me. Pity about her parents though. She has done well for herself. She made a killing in computers and technology. I think she owns some firm downtown or something,” her mother explained.

  “Her parents? What happened to her parents?”

  “They died in a crash off 126. The only think that I remember is that a big truck squished them and their car went over the bridge into the river. The truck driver went over too, but he survived. It was tragic. Why do you ask?”

  “Because it is nice to know everything you can about your enemies before you confront them,” Grace said.

  “Oh, no, you don’t. You leave her alone. She meant nothing by it. She was looking out for you,” her mother demanded.

  “Fine, but if she as much as walks on the property, I will not refrain from speaking my mind to her,” Grace answered.

  “I guess I can’t fault you, there, but be gentle about it. I don’t want her to think that we hate her. She gave your father a very big deal when she helped him update the business. Just try and be civil to her,” her mother told her, “I’ll tell your father that you are well and that you wish to talk to him. I am sure that he will give you a call. He does miss you, too, Grace. I wish you believe me.”

  “Not again,” Grace sighed.

  “We do love you, Gracie Lynne. I wish…I am sorry if I hurt you. I know that it might be a lot a little too late, but I am sorry,” her mother replied.

  “I will try,” Grace resigned.

  “That is all I can ask,” her mother stated, “I’ll leave you for now. Please come out to the house later and we can have dinner one night. Just please call before you come.”

  “I will see what I can do,” Grace answered.

  Her mother left the lake house. Grace waved as her mother pulled out of the drive way. She had to smile. Maybe things in Columbia wouldn’t be as bad she thought that they might be.

  She sat down in the den and turned on the TV. She hoped that the mindlessness that she would find on the tube would help her try and remember what she had been doing last night to warrant the neighbors to bring her home and even call her mother. She hoped that she had acted properly and worried that she hadn’t. She knew what drinking did to her if she imbibed too much.

  “Damn it, I am twenty-nine years old, and she fucking called my mom. How childish? I am going to say something bad when I finally see her again,” Grace swore out loud, “I mean, who does she think she is? She isn’t even in the same league as me. She is trash.”

  Grace sat on the couch and soured. She wanted to go over to Reagan’s house and tell her off. She knew she wouldn’t because she told her mother that she wouldn’t. But, given half a chance and Grace would be there and in Reagan’s face.

  She sat there in front of the television with a large glass of water still hydrating herself from the night before. She was constantly flipping through the channels. Nothing seemed to interest her. She was about to give up when the phone rang.

  “Yeah?” she answered it.

  “Hello,” the voice on the other end purred.

  “What do you want?” she asked through clinched teeth.

  “Why won’t you come home, dear?”

  “I am home. For once in my life, I am home, Camille. You can have Atlanta and I will have Columbia,” Grace answered.

  “Ah, don’t be like that, love,” Camille begged.

  “Don’t be like what?”

  “Don’t be so mad about it,” Camille stated.

  “How can I not be angry with you? It is your fault that my partner was killed. Doesn’t that mean anything to you? Does that not matter?” Grace questioned.

  “I am not at fault here. You are,” Camille shot back angrily.

  “How am I to blame for the death of Simmons?” Grace screamed into the phone.

  “You were with him all the time and not with me,” Camille answered.

  “That is low. I was with him because of work. I was with him because he was my partner. He was more a partner to me than you were,” Grace said.

  “Don’t you dare say that. I loved you,” Camille stammered.

  “Don’t give me that shit. You couldn’t care less about me. It was all my badge and what it could get you and get you out of. I know your type, Camille. I will not be your little butch. I have better things to do with my time,” Grace stated, walking out onto her deck.

  The house was suddenly too small for her and this conversation. She had to get out of the house or she would go crazy. She was gripping her glass of water, hard, almost shattering it in her hands.

  “Then he deserved what he got,” Camille hissed.

  “YOU FUCKING BITCH!!!” Grace shouted, throwing the glass into the lake, “Don’t you ever call me again. You are dead to me. You never existed. I can only hope that Simmons’ wife and three kids can forgive you for your fuck up. You are such a GOD DAMN BITCH!”

  “Whatever, Grace. It’s over. You can send what you owe me to the condo,” Camille answered, matter-of-factly.

  “I don’t owe you shit. By the way, Chuck said you had until the end of the month to pay your half of the rent or you’d be out. Have a good day,” Grace answered and then shut off the phone.

  “AHHHHHHHH!” she screamed into the quietness of the lake, “I hate that woman. What the fuck?”

  She was pacing and ranting on the deck, when she heard the phone ring again. She stared at it as if it was some offending piece of hardware or something. She looked at her phone and a single thought popped
into her head. Throw it in the lake then, you won’t have to worry about it anymore. She shook the thought off and answered the phone.

  “This had better be damned good, you fucking bitch!” she stated mad.

  “Well, I would hope so,” a male voice answered.

  “Drew? Is that you? Man, I am sorry,” she replied.

  “What the hell was that about?” he stated.

  “Nothing…just Camille,” Grace responded.

  “I thought you drunk her away last night,” he stated.

  “You know about that?” Grace asked, “What did I do?”

  “Let’s just say that you gave the bar a good show. I was amazed at how much you made in tips for the bar dance. It was pretty good. I was wondering if you were going to come back tonight for a repeat?” he asked.

  “Oh, dear God, tell me I didn’t,” she pleaded.

  “Can’t. Wish I could, but I can’t,” he stated.

  “What the hell did I do?”

  “Well, beside the bar dance, partial strip tease and the karaoke, you finished the new bottle of Absolut on your own, started on my Grey Goose when that was done. I thought you were done. I was just glad to get a hold of you, bud. I thought you would be in the hospital by now,” he answered.

  “Don’t tempt me. I think…wait, you saw who took me home, right?” she asked.

  “Yeah, Reagan did. She lives near you so it made sense. I drove the truck out there this morning when I got off. Didn’t want to take the chance that you would try and leave, so I kept it for a few hours,” he answered.

  “You drove my truck out here?” she asked.

  “Yeah, after Reagan called me this morning to tell me that you were in bed and not going anywhere. She said she forced some Tylenol and water down you after a lovely round of toilet worship,” he offered.

  “That would explain that lack of shirt,” she said.

  “What?” he asked.

  “Oh, nothing. Thanks, Drew, I owe you one.”

  “No prob, Tiny, I do what I can,” he stated.

  “Don’t call me Tiny. That is my dog’s name,” she replied.