by Kris Jayne
“What’s the matter, Shannon?”
“Nothing really. Things are fine. My life has never been more straight. I’m working, and I love the apartment. I can’t thank you enough for that.” Her voice trembled.
“But?”
“No buts. It’s just I don’t have any friends here. There are some people I know, but they’re not friends. A lot of them are junkies I used to run with. I can’t be around them. All I’m doing is working. I’m trying to stay on top of things. It’s all harder than I than I thought it was going to be,” Shannon whimpered.
Jeff didn’t know what to say. Maybe he didn’t understand how hard it was for Shannon to stay sober and deal with the ups and downs of shitty work and paying bills, but what Shannon described was just life. He understood her loneliness, but she’d meet people.
He struggled to find something encouraging to say. Shannon was used to dropping out when things weren’t exactly as she liked—either running away or getting high. Now, neither of those were an option.
“It can be hard to get started and figure out what you want to do, but as long as you’re working, you’re on the right track.”
“What right track? Am I going to work at the Wal-Mart forever? The only reason I won’t be broke is because you gave me a deposit and the first few months’ rent. I don’t make enough money, but I’m not asking you for more. I’m just—I feel trapped. And I’m trying so hard. All I want is to be back on my feet.”
“What about waitressing? You said you thought you could make more money with tips.”
“Maybe. I wish I knew how to do something else. I should have gone to college when your parents offered to help me. Remember that? They were going to pay for my community college,” Shannon recounted wistfully.
“I remember that. You can still go back if you want. There are loans and programs to help with that.” Jeff knew lots of people who couldn’t afford school who went part-time and found a way to get it done.
“I’d be there with a bunch of nineteen-year-olds looking at me funny. I’ve wasted so much time and so many chances. I feel like I’m doing that again. I keep letting people mess me up.”
“What do you mean? No one can mess you up but you at this point, Shannon. Life requires effort. There’s no getting around it, but you have a future if decide to work for it. Your mindset is the most important thing at this point.”
Maybe it was empty words. He didn’t know what Shannon faced. He’d gone to school, finished, got well-paying software jobs, and then started his own business. One thing leads to another. It wasn’t easy, but maybe part of it was. The motivation. The drive. The belief. All of that—if he were honest—had been effortless for him.
“I hear you saying all that, but you don’t get it. You’re smart.”
“So are you, Shannon,” Jeff assured her. She smirked. “Even if you’re smart, success doesn’t fall from the sky. You set a goal and map out a way to get where you want to go. What do you want, Shannon? You used to want to be a hair stylist or a makeup artist. Or your sketches. You used to draw.”
“I just liked hair and makeup. I was sixteen. I still sketch, though.”
“What about something artistic? There’s an art school here in town. How about that?” Jeff did his best to guide her toward a vision for her life.
Shannon didn’t say anything. She looked at him, and tears glistening in her eyes. Jeff handed her his napkin as hers was already a tightly crunched ball on the table.
“Maybe. What Taryn does sounds fun,” Shannon said.
Jeff knew that Taryn’s job was anything but fun. It had its moments, but most of what Taryn did was akin to cat wrangling. It drove her crazy. He knew that even Taryn wanted to switch to something more fun than planning corporate events. Shannon would be quite terrible at what Taryn did, but it probably sounded glamorous to her. He reminded himself to be motivating.
“What about it sounds good to you?”
“Planning parties and traveling to different places.”
“She doesn’t do that many parties. A lot of it is conferences, organizing speakers, managing executives. She does get to travel and see some places that maybe she otherwise wouldn’t see, but not for fun. You were good at talking to people, persuading people, socializing. That’s why you did pretty well as a waitress. What about sales? You like fashion.”
“All of that is still minimum wage stuff. I want a house and nice car and for people to hear what I do and be like, ‘Wow, that sounds cool.’”
“You’re not going to get where you want to be starting from what’s going to impress other people. You have to line up what you like and what you’re good at with what will make you enough of a living and then go from there to figure out how it can make you more money. That’s what I did. I like working in technology and with computers, but I started in tech support, which was hourly work. Then I moved into other positions and learned other things that helped me be ready to start the business with Paul. So start working as a clerk and then you can work up to being a store manager or something. Doesn’t have to be Wal-Mart.”
Jeff could see that Shannon wasn’t enthused, which frustrated him. She had to find her own way. He couldn’t tell her what to do or drop a job in her lap. She had to figure this out. One thing he knew was that he couldn’t keep giving her money. It wouldn’t help her. He had a friend from school who worked in HR and career counseling that he could introduce to Shannon.
Shannon sighed. “Maybe I should just focus on waiting tables. I went in at that one place, but they’d already hired somebody. I can keep trying.”
“Something will turn up, Shannon. Stay focused on doing the things that will make getting ahead easier instead of harder.” That was the best advice Jeff could offer her. Shannon reached over and squeezed his hands.
“Thanks, Jeff. I needed to get out of the house and be around someone who can help me look ahead and be better. You always do that for me.” She flashed him a weak smile.
“Let’s get dinner. I’m starving.”
Jeff returned her smile with sympathy and pulled his hands away. He wanted to help, but he couldn’t let Shannon grow dependent on him. That had been trouble in the past. She had to stand on her own for once in her life. Jeff knew one thing he could do to provide more motivation for her to do that.
Chapter Twenty
Taryn’s early morning flight on Monday left two hours late, putting her in an even worse mood than she’d been for the past twenty-four hours. She didn’t arrive at the hotel hosting the event until late afternoon. She called Jeff to let him know she made it to New York safely and then went to pick up her show exhibitor badge, which she needed to get on the floor for setup.
The sound of cranes, drills, and pallets slamming on cement filled the massive convention center. Trade shows were Taryn’s least favorite events, which is why her boss had given trade show management to another event manager. She preferred private events, conferences, and high-touch personalized events. Setting up booths and waiting for local labor to get off break and finish the work you needed drove her nuts.
She got to the booth and met up with Charlene Jordan, the rep for the trade show company that warehoused their materials and shipped them to each show. Taryn came armed with a six-page shipping manifest that she needed to match up to the boxes and crates in their booth space. Damn, she hated trade shows.
Charlene stood in the center of their space, right now, nothing more than a forty-foot square of concrete stacked with pallets. Taryn didn’t know Charlene that well but recognized her stout frame dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt. The organizers hadn’t cranked up the heat as high as they would the day of the show. Taryn wished she’d kept her coat. Her light sweater didn’t shield her from the chilly air on the show floor.
“Taryn, hello! Good to see you again. Thanks so much for filling in for Hannah.” Charlene shook Taryn’s hand.
“No problem. With her on bedrest, I know we’ll need an extra set of hands until our other manag
er gets here from her event. I talked with Hannah briefly on Friday, and she sent me all the documentation for the shipping and the specs for the build, what goes where. I think I can manage.”
“The main push is we have to get everything up today. She arranged for a film crew to come in with someone on your marketing team to shoot a customer video and then you have rehearsals for your in-booth presentations.”
“She sent me the agenda. Where’s the crew?”
“Well, that’s another problem. You know we have to use the local union, and they’re backed up. If we don’t get it done by five thirty, you’ll start paying time and a half.”
“Any way to move us up to the front of the line?”
“They’re going by booth size and how much you’ve spent. It’s not too bad, but they’re behind.”
“Well, we can’t build anything ourselves. Can we unpack the boxes?”
“As soon as we have union workers lift them off the pallets. I’ve talked to the guy handling that. He said he could get over here in the next fifteen to twenty minutes and get that done,” Charlene informed her. “Hey, at least you have your pallets, and from what I could count, I think all the boxes are here.”
Taryn checked her watch. She’d rushed over from the airport, and now it was nearly three and she hadn’t eaten since breakfast.
“Mind if I run out and grab a sandwich. I saw a stand downstairs. Maybe by the time I come back, this will be unloaded.”
“Go ahead. I’ll give you a ring if I need you. I have a couple of other clients here to check on.”
Taryn turned to get her bags and was about to head out for a quick lunch when she got a text message from her Uncle Carlisle.
> Got something. Call me.
She stepped off the show floor to get away from the hammering and the noise and dialed her uncle’s number.
“Captain Stevens.”
“Hey, how’s my favorite uncle?”
“Living the golden life, baby girl.”
“I got your text. What’s up?”
“Your man in the photo is Shannon’s husband, Wayne Nelson.”
“Husband husband? Or common law?”
“Real, bonafide husband. The issue was the name she used on the marriage certificate. Did a search for Shannon Clifton, the maiden name that you told me, and Shannon McConnell, married name number one, but it turns out she used a different name Shannon Hadley. Hadley is her biological mother’s name. I found a handful of state documents from some juvenile delinquency cases that weren’t sealed. That’s where I found Hadley. Clifton was the name of her foster family. So Shannon Hadley married Wayne Nelson a little over a year ago on New Year’s Eve.”
“No divorce?” Taryn wondered why Shannon insisted on downplaying her relationship when she just married this guy.
“None that I found. They are still married. Wayne has several arrests for everything from possession to armed robbery. He’s done a couple longer stints in prison. The last was almost five years for the robbery. He was released on parole four months before he and Shannon married.”
“How old is he? Two long prison stints he can’t be our age.”
“No. He’s forty-two. He has a birthday coming in March. March 6. Texas Independence Day. He’ll be forty-three. One other thing you should know, his known associates include some white supremacy groups. Could be just a prison thing, but he’s bad news.”
“White supremacy? Good Lord,” Taryn said, stunned.
“Also, I ran the plates on the truck. They came back as belonging to a Honda Accord that was wrecked, so the truck isn’t registered. Could be stolen, or maybe they can’t get it registered. Wayne doesn’t have a valid license. It got pulled a while back on a combination of a couple of DUIs and some back child support.”
“He has children?” Taryn’s heart sank for these unnamed children who had a man like that as a father.
“He does, and he’s barred from seeing them. History of domestic abuse. Even just a few months ago, police responded to Wayne and Shannon’s residence because neighbors called the police. The officers didn’t make a report, but when I called the Mineola police to ask about one of the previous domestic incidents with his kid’s mother, they mentioned it. Turned out, they were just arguing. No reason to arrest him. Lucky for him because he can’t afford another one.”
“All of this is about Wayne. What about Shannon?”
“Nothing you didn’t already know except that the kinda sorta ex is still her husband. Look, Taryn, if he’s still in the picture, you should steer clear. Let Jeff talk to his attorney. Having this character around Jeff’s daughter is an obvious non-starter.”
“That’s not a problem right now. Shannon can’t visit with Olivia unless Jeff is around.”
“You better keep it that way. I’ll let you know if anything else comes up. I have a couple of phone calls out that haven’t been returned.”
“Thanks, Uncle Carlisle.”
“No problem. Be safe, honey.”
Taryn said goodbye and left to get a sandwich. Was the husband living with Shannon in the apartment Jeff had helped fund? Taryn knew one way to find out.
It was nearly eleven when she finally got off the trade show floor. They’d had to wait until almost six for the union labor to show up and construct the booth. After that, her company’s staff had to set up the technical demonstrations and get them working. They had rehearsals early the next morning as well as a customer interview they’d be filming. So Taryn didn’t have a free moment until the show got started the following afternoon.
Her coworker showed up and relieved her, and Taryn immediately went back to her hotel to dig through her personal email. At some point, Jeff had forwarded her reports from the private investigator Nick recommended to them. With a few quick searches, she found what she needed to get the man’s contact information. Rick Calabro of Fort Worth.
“Hello, Mr. Calabro. My name is Taryn Lieber. I’m—”
“You’re the fiancée. Jeff McConnell case. I’ve closed that file.”
“I know. Jeff asked his attorney to hold off on doing any more investigation. Shannon found out you were asking questions and—”
“And came to Dallas looking for Mr. McConnell. He briefed me on that. I was as discreet as I could be. But you start asking questions, and a certain element will get suspicious and start protecting their own. Someone tipped her off. What do you want from me?”
“I don’t blame you for Shannon. I want to get a few more pieces of information. You found her and started asking questions when Jeff called off the investigation. Your last report says that she presented herself as married, and you didn’t find a marriage certificate. And—”
“I didn’t finish looking for one. Once I get told I’m not getting paid anymore, I stop searching.”
Taryn clenched her fists but tried to stay calm. She hated people who interrupted.
“I get that. And I assume that if you find out you’re getting paid again, you’ll keep searching.”
“That is how I work.”
“Great. I need a little bit more information. I had a cop friend locate the marriage certificate. What I’d like is for you to do some reconnaissance. Don’t talk to anybody. Don’t ask any questions, just follow her, watch the apartment, and let me know if the husband is still in the picture. According to her, he’s history. But I recently saw the husband in Shannon’s truck. He’s in town.”
“Follow her and stake out the apartment.”
“Yes. It shouldn’t take long to find out if he’s staying there, but—”
“You don’t want to be seen sniffing around her apartment,” Rick finished.
“I don’t have time to be stalking somebody.”
“Some people have more money than time.”
“Not that much money. As I said, I can’t imagine this will take more than a two or three days. That’s all I’m willing to pay for.”
“And I report back to you and Mr. McConnell.”
Ta
ryn ran a nervous hand through her hair. “No. Just to me. I want proof before I say anything to Jeff.”
“Really? Huh.”
“So are we set?” Taryn asked. She didn’t want to contemplate the indictment contained in Rick’s “huh.”
“I’m going to need some payment information as a retainer and the details you have so far.”
Taryn provided what Rick asked for and told him to report back in a two days. She would do what needed to be done to find out the truth, and then tell Jeff. He’d have to understand that she was as willing to protect their soon-to-be family as he was.
Chapter Twenty-One
It took a couple of days, but Mr. Calabro delivered the first piece of news that Taryn wanted on Thursday. Or didn’t want. She wasn’t sure which. She’d been back from New York for a couple of days when she got a voice message from the investigator. Taryn closed the door to her office and dialed the return number.
“Ms. Lieber. I have an initial report for you. I’ll send you a written report by tomorrow morning if you’d like.”
“What do you have?”
“The husband is living with her. He drives her to work and picks her up, and they head back to the apartment. While she’s working, he heads to the liquor store or the bar. Mainly, he just sits in the apartment.”
“And her. Is she going to the bar?”
“No. She comes home and stays in. They went out to eat last night, and she drove home. Wayne—or ‘Kid’ as I heard her call him—was three sheets to the wind. She had a devil of a time getting him up the stairs. He was stumbling, screaming. I have to say, it looked for a second like he might smack her, but she got him inside. I thought I was going to have to call the police.”
“Well, he has a history of domestic violence,” Taryn observed. “What about Shannon? She wasn’t drinking?”
“Not that I could tell. Look, I’m not trying to string this out but to get a full picture, I need more than a couple of days. Give me more time, and I can get a feel for their pattern.”
