by R. T. Wolfe
Flashes of Nickie dressed in leopard heels, in blood red pants, and in nothing but a disheveled red lace bra and pants dangling from her ankle worked through his mind. The sight of her coming in low, gun drawn. "Eventful. I saved a cherry filled for you. Come sit. I'll fill you in." Red's tail swept the kitchen floor as he sat next to Duncan. Scratching around his ears, Duncan spoke to him. "We're going to keep Mom safe. Aren't we, boy?"
He went through every detail with Nathan, stopping to answer or clarify when he asked him to. It was difficult to imagine the frustration of having the woman he loved in danger, in more than one kind of danger, and with his hands tied on both counts. Nathan would remain by her side through her surgery, through the medications, and guard and protect her from Melbourne at the same time.
He knew his uncle was looking into the things he could not—Lucy Melbourne and her reasons to fake wheelchair confinement. And what the hell was MollyAnne doing with another fireman? He started to wonder if her obsession might be as much with arson as with his aunt.
Sighing deeply, Duncan finished with his take on Brusco. "Nickie is right. We need to keep an eye on Brusco. His obsession with Melbourne is unnatural, but he's too obvious. She used him, put him in the path to be a suspect, set him up."
"Nickie?" his aunt asked.
He recognized her clever way of reading into him. Their eyes met, speaking without speaking.
Nathan broke the silence. "I've spotted MollyAnne with the new guy in public, at Mikey's Bar and Grill. I may have followed them there from her mother's home."
"Mmm, and Brusco is showing signs of packing up in Liberty. He's applied for a security job in Northridge. I'll keep an eye on his... Web presence; you keep an eye on Melbourne's house."
Red laid his head on Duncan's thigh. Effective, he thought. "I'm going to throw the ball around with the dog out front for a while. It's good to be home."
He put on his gloves and jacket as Red watched carefully. When he picked up the tennis balls, however, the pup ran in circles, his nails clinking on the hardwood floor. He danced and whined all the way to the front door. When he jumped up and planted his paws on his chest, Duncan shook his head. "You're going to get us both in trouble, boy." As Brie had taught him, he walked into the pup, knocking him off balance and onto his feet, then squatted down at his level and praised him when his feet hit the floor.
* * *
When the front door shut, Brie turned to Nathan. "He looks good."
Nathan pulled her from the sink and sat her on his lap. "I thought he looked focused and anxious."
She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him, long and soft. "More like concentrated and in love."
She felt his lips stop mid-kiss. "With whom?" His blue eyes were wide and bright. Whoever said men weren't into this kind of thing?
"The detective. She's absolutely perfect."
Nathan looked over her head, then back to her eyes. "How so? She's completely not his type."
"Exactly." The feel of his rough fingers over her cheek as he tucked her hair behind her ear sent the kind of warmth through her she couldn't get anywhere else.
He took his thumb and rubbed circles over the creases between her brows. "Then why the concern?"
Purposely, she relaxed her face. "He may mess it up." She saw how quickly his eyes turned to worry. "I'm so in love with you."
"He's never been in town this long before. It doesn't look like he's planning to leave anytime soon."
"Mmm," Brie agreed as she reached for her mug of coffee.
"I'd finally accepted that his job took him across the country and now he's home."
She took a sip and let the heat warm her insides. "I thought he would come back sooner, more like around twenty-five. He had more than the average amount of young man issues to sort through, I suppose. I hope he stays."
They went over the plans for surgery: who would watch the house, who would watch the person who was watching the house, the pre-op appointment, how long before surgery results would be available, how long between surgery and when she would start the chemo and radiation. Absently, Nathan ran a hand inside the back of her shirt as they spoke and was rubbing circles around her lower back when Duncan came back in.
"Get a room, parents," he said as he tossed the tennis balls in the umbrella stand and hung up his jacket.
* * *
This was home, Duncan thought. In more than one way. Family, the woods. This house Andy had built for him with Nathan as cabinetry supervisor. He sat on his favorite stool as the light from the late afternoon sun warmed his back. The oils on his most treasured brushes skimmed the canvas as he created the larger, thicker outlines of the last painting for the mayor.
So, why were his times here so few and far between?
He'd gone to college because that was what was expected and actually learned more than he'd anticipated from his NYU degree. He'd enlisted in the Army because that was what he needed to do. He worked in L.A. and Vegas because people appreciated his work and paid unreasonable amounts of money for it. He was still relatively young and doing what he enjoyed. But he wasn't that kind of young anymore.
And why was it so hard to concentrate? Everything seemed distracting and busy. He imagined a feminine alto voice singing about years gone by, imagined the smooth brush of rosin over the strings of a cello.
He stood. Bringing his brushes to the small sink behind his supplies, he washed them carefully and decided instead on a swim. The water would be better. It would help muffle his senses. The rhythmic pace of the strokes would sooth, and the work on his muscles would release some highly needed endorphins.
As he swam, he thought of the dozens of replies he'd received from the cross-country real estate manager position he'd posted. The middle-aged woman who caught his eye checked out to be most capable. He would schedule a virtual meeting with her for the first thing next week. Would catch up on portfolio adjustments before that. Would catch up with Nickie before that.
The water ran smooth over his shoulders, down his back. He used a four beat kick as he worked into a groove, picking up speed with his second wind.
They'd had sex. They'd had sex and he hadn't called her, or she him. Why was that? It was time to stop over thinking and go see the woman.
He took a deep breath as he came out of the last turn, then sprinted to the end.
* * *
Brie slept soundly on their couch. Restless, Nathan convinced himself he was due for a friendly visit with Lucy Melbourne. He bundled for the cold and used the bridge over Black Creek. He'd built it himself so the cousins could easily get across without getting the dark mud the creek was named for all over their shoes. He'd used branches with layer upon layer of shellac to weather the moisture and give it a clean feel.
Walking between the Victorian home Brie's sister lived in and the one Lucy had lived in for decades, he paused. He'd look in the back window to the kitchen, the room Lucy generally spent most of her time. A little recon, he convinced himself.
He lifted up on the decorative stone he used. He didn't see anything, but he heard something. A soft, rather cooing voice from behind.
"Nathan."
He spun. It was the first time he'd seen MollyAnne Melbourne this close since the night she tried to blow up his wife and Duncan. Standing tall, he waited her out, fists clenching. Her hair was still long and straight as a board. She'd dyed it the bleach blond color it had been before prison. It almost concealed the scars on the side of her face from where her own explosion had backfired on her.
"You should come in, darling." She reached her wretched hand out and touched his forearm. It was horrifying and he felt he may feel her hand there for the rest of his life.
"Why do you think I'm out here checking, MollyAnne... so, I don't have to see you."
"We could have been good together, you know. Could still be good together."
It occurred to him she was completely sincere. He felt pity for a short moment—until he thought of the dog, his trees,
his wife.
Jerking his arm free, he hissed at her. "When hell freezes over, you bat shit crazy bitch."
Her smile was slight as she tilted her head just enough that her hair pulled away from her cheek, exposing the balding spots around her deformed ear. "I'm not crazy, Nathan," she murmured. "I'm just better than she is. You'll see that soon enough. I have nothing to do with what has happened."
He kept his cool, resisted wrapping his hands around her neck. "What is happening now, MollyAnne?"
She smiled coolly, blinked long as she turned her head and walked to the back door of her mother's home.
He let out a heavy breath he didn't know he'd been holding. Clutching his shirt like it would slow his breathing, he walked purposefully back toward the bridge.
* * *
Nickie hadn't called him that weekend. It wasn't because they'd slept together. And it wasn't because she was a girl and believed the man should call first. She had simply been busy sitting in on interrogations with the Feds in Vegas and compiling reports at her office in Northridge.
She hadn't had a day off in over two weeks. So, she allowed herself a morning swim at the gym before work. When she got there with wet hair an hour late, she felt justified. That is, until she saw the wavy dark hair and the long legs sticking out from her office guest chair.
Her fingers found their way through the top of the hair she wore loose. She nearly slapped her own hand for doing so.
It wasn't a big deal. Not a mind-blowing, earth-shattering big frigging deal.
She walked in with quick steps, thankful the clicking of her boots would announce her entrance so she didn't have to. "Good morning, Duncan."
She set her Styrofoam cup of Diet Coke on her desk. Doing the same with her briefcase, she soon felt the warmth of him next to her. He took her fingers in his, leaving them at her side. With his other hand, he ran the back of his fingers down her cheek.
She forced her eyes to stay open.
"You look like you think I might kiss you in your office, detective. No need to worry."
Kissing may have been less intimate than what he was doing at that moment.
"Of course. Can I get you some coffee?"
Duncan tilted his head toward the coffee cup setting next to her guest chair.
"Right. Well then, have a seat and I can brief you on the Vegas results." She looked up at him at that time, squinting deeply. "Or did you already read the reports?"
His face softened as he sat back down. "Not when I knew you would share them. Please..." Duncan held out a hand toward her chair.
She obliged and sat, opening her briefcase. She took out her copy of the Vegas files and flipped through. Shaking her head, she decided to set them down. She felt like he was looking through her.
"Two of the girls said they know of firemen who are regulars and cross state lines."
"Is Lacey with her parents?"
It touched her that he thought of Lacey, especially considering the stakes in this for him. "She is recovering at home with her parents. We'll have more questions for her, but we'll wait for their family psychologist to have some time first. We've damaged their operation. It will take time before they can rebuild. We'll be able to watch for missing girls, but their net is cast wide. One of the more... seasoned girls identified a house belonging to one of the governor's assistants."
"As in the New York governor?"
"One of his assistants, yes. The victim was amazing. Determined, she'd gathered as much intel as she could. She never gave up hope that she would someday escape." She turned her head to look at him straight on. "We're looking into it, Duncan. We have a fine department here."
Duncan lifted his hands up, palms out.
"Did you... draw any of the perps that got away? The johns that ducked out back doors?" He didn't answer her. Why was that? Did she cross a line? Had she asked too much? "You know I wouldn't leak them to anyone. My eyes only."
"I imagine, at fifteen, you gathered intel and had been just as determined." Eyes she once thought of as condescending, possibly rude now seemed penetrating. Penetrating and interested.
She could also recognize a subject change. Could recognize and dish it right back. "MollyAnne Melbourne has been spotted a number of times with the new guy, Eric White. She seems to have an unhealthy historical obsession with firemen. Did you know she dated the chief before he was married?"
"I did, yes. And others, too, I imagine." He got up and walked around, then sat on the corner of her desk. "Brusco is showing signs of movement."
"What?" she looked up in question. Duncan was close. He smelled like the woods.
"He put in notice at his day job and canceled his local checking account."
"Well, now that just hurts my feelings. He didn't share that with me after I told him so specifically to do just that. I may have to make a trip to Liberty later this afternoon."
"No need, I think. He's put a deposit on an apartment downtown."
"Downtown Northridge? Well, I'll be damned. I wonder how he'll react to Melbourne and the new fireman."
"It may be the catalyst for his decision." He leaned in. "I'd like to see you again."
She looked around slightly, then craned her head away from him. "See me?"
He took one of her hands in both of his. "Yes. Preferably not following a family illness, fight or police raid. I have someone I want you to meet. Her name is Abigail."
"Abigail."
He nodded. "She's a deep, golden brown with white spots—" He touched the space between her eyes. "—here." He let go and pushed from her desk. "She also weighs between eleven and twelve hundred pounds."
Chapter 19
Lucky for Melbourne, Duncan was long gone when she showed up for questioning. She came in dressed like she was ready for a job interview at Niemen Marcus. Her small purse slung over her shoulder with long, looped chain links looking like a feminine belt of ammo.
"Good morning, Ms. Melbourne. Thank you for coming in. Please follow me." Nickie rested a hand on her gun as she purposely turned her back to MollyAnne and led the way to interrogation.
The room was small, but with the absence of anything except a single table and three chairs it looked bigger. Nickie pulled out a chair and gestured for MollyAnne to sit. Melbourne set the dainty purse on the table and sat ramrod straight on the edge of her chair.
Nickie sat across from her and saw that her pupils were tiny dots. She knew she'd been taking medication since leaving prison and that antidepressants could do that. "Can I get you something, MollyAnne? Coffee? Soda? I'd like a soda myself."
Melbourne's voice always gave Nickie the creeps. It was soft, with the slight tone of talking to a baby. "Caffeine stimulates an appetite and soda is poison."
Nickie lifted her brows. "I'm going for the poison, myself. How about some water?"
"No, thank you, detective. I'm in a bit of a hurry." Melbourne smiled at that.
"I'll be right back, then."
Nickie went to her office, checked her schedule for the day, for the week. She went through emails, made three phone calls and one appointment with a pawn shop dealer regarding some stolen phones he had in his possession. She stopped by the desk of a patrol officer filing an accident report and arranged for him to stand at the door for the rest of the interview. "Yes, ma'am, Detective Savage."
Ma'am? That term was for old people.
After finally getting her twenty ounce from the machine, she went back in the room. Melbourne was still statue still, straight and had set her folded hands on the table.
The pleasant façade, however, was gone. Good.
Nickie swung a leg over the back of the chair and sat. "Tell me about the night you gutted the animal."
MollyAnne forced a smile and blinked once. "I was in Liberty, detective. You have evidence of that."
"Not that animal, the one—or should I say ones—you gutted for Brie before your time in the big house."
Her face fell. "I did my time for that."
"Te
ll that to the golden retriever. You know, MollyAnne, this has all turned out very well for Brie. Her nephew moved back into town because of you. In fact, if you hadn't arranged to leave that disgusting present on Brie's deck, she wouldn't have taken that nasty spill and ended up with an overnight in the hospital. Did you know they found cancer?" Nickie balanced on the back legs of her chair as MollyAnne slid her hands to the edge of the table. "Her chances for a full recovery are very high. So, kudos."
MollyAnne breathed rapidly but she didn't speak. Nickie let her stay that way for a few minutes.
"Tell me about the trees, MollyAnne."
She was hoping that would shake her further. Except it seemed to calm Melbourne. Creepy.
"I've already told you I don't know anything about that. I'm trying to live my life. I'm cooperating with the police on my own free will. If Brie had her precious trees scorched, she might want to look at herself as to why she would have so many enemies. Me? I'm reuniting with my mother. It's the first time I can remember being close to her, detective. Can you understand that? Oh right, probably not." Her smile was a mixture of beautiful, pure hatred and deformity in the way it stretched the scars near her ear as she dug Nickie about her own mother. Nice shot, Nickie thought.
She saw an opening and went for it. "Tell me why your mother is concealing her physical ability to... everyone except you."
The smirk dropped from Melbourne's face. Her fingertips turned white where she gripped the edge of the table. Rising slightly out of her chair, she snapped. "You leave my mother out of this."
Nickie didn't flinch. She watched as Melbourne looked surprised at her loss of control, straightened her jacket and sat back down.
"You're the one who brought her up, dear."
"My mother is a law abiding citizen. You have nothing on her." Melbourne went back to folding her hands, this time it was too calm, too collected.
"We're keeping an eye on her. We can do that, you know. Serve and protect and all that." She stood as MollyAnne started to object. "Thank you for coming in, ma'am. We'll keep in touch." She left amidst her protests and signaled for the officer at the door to escort her out.
