Not Quite Crazy (Not Quite Series Book 6)

by Catherine Bybee

  Rachel pushed him toward the door. “Then pop something in the oven. I need to change.”

  She was still wearing his shirt and her pants from the day before, since she didn’t have clothes at his house.

  “I don’t cook,” he complained.

  “Follow the instructions on the box.”

  “But . . .”

  “You fly planes and run a zillion-dollar business. I’m sure you can cook a pizza from the freezer.”

  “You’re bossy when you’re on a mission.”

  She pushed him all the way out her door and closed it behind him.

  The contractor arrived about the same time the pizza was delivered. Apparently Jason was allergic to turning on an oven.

  The contractor called himself T. Just T. Rachel waited for him to clarify his name with something along the lines of T is for Tanner, Travis, Tom . . . but no. Just T.

  “Well, T. What I need is an environmental report on this house.”

  “Specifically lead paint and asbestos,” Jason said.

  “But test for anything considered toxic.”

  “Are you trying to find a problem for insurance or something?”

  “Oh, no . . . nothing like that. It’s personal.”

  “Have you been sick?”

  “Nope.”

  T looked confused.

  “Check for mold, anything that can make you ill.”

  He gave the living room a once-over. “Fresh paint?”

  “Yeah, I’ve painted almost every room in the place.”

  “I’m going to have to dig into some of it for testing.”

  “Whatever you have to do. If you can do it close to the floor or away from where the eye looks and not skew the test results, that would be great.”

  “Okay, ma’am. You’re the boss.”

  He went back out to his truck, and Jason said in her ear, “You’re kinda sexy when you’re bossy.”

  “Ha.” She opened the pizza box, and her stomach reminded her they’d skipped breakfast. “You woke up horny.”

  “Did not.”

  She tilted her head, offered her best don’t lie to me stare.

  “Okay, maybe a little.”

  Rachel lowered her head.

  “I blame the image of you in my shirt.” He grabbed a piece of pizza and shoved it in his mouth.

  She thrust a napkin into his free hand and sat down.

  Two hours later T walked into the living room to let them know he was finished.

  “Anything you can tell us now?”

  “I scraped the walls, and my kit doesn’t show lead.”

  Rachel grasped Jason’s hand, hope filling her chest.

  “But that’s not to say there isn’t lead in there. I have to send it to a testing center to make sure the coat of paint over it isn’t messing up the chemistry.”

  “How long will that take?”

  “Three days.”

  “Can we rush it?” Jason asked.

  “That is rushing.”

  “Anything else?” Rachel asked.

  “There isn’t any evidence of asbestos. But if there was at some point, and it wasn’t removed properly, you might find some in the insulation in the attic.”

  Rachel frowned. “Let me guess, you’re sending it out for testing?”

  “I would suggest that isn’t necessary, but you said you wanted everything I question tested. It is an old house, and back when this was built, we didn’t know much about what made us sick.”

  “Okay.”

  “There is mold down in the basement.”

  “Oh no.”

  T smiled. “You and everyone else on this block. It’s not black mold, but I did treat the area with the bleach you had by your laundry supplies.”

  “So it’s not a problem?”

  “It’s smelly but not toxic.”

  “Does it need to be sent off to a lab?” Jason asked.

  “Nope.”

  “That’s all?”

  “You wanted to know about hidden dangers, right?”

  Rachel wondered what she had missed that they haven’t covered. “Anything.”

  “Well, those stairs leading down into your basement should be removed and replaced.”

  She released a long breath. “Stairs?” All he had was old stairs?

  “It’s a decent size space, but I wouldn’t want to be lugging my laundry down there. Cold and damp draws lots of insects. I’m not a fan of spiders.”

  Rachel glanced at Jason, then back at T. “Spiders . . . stairs and spiders is all you found?”

  “You sound disappointed.” He tore off the sheet he’d been working with and handed her a copy.

  “Not at all. Please contact me as soon as you know about the lab results.”

  “You got it.”

  Jason shook the man’s hand, and they watched him walk away.

  Rachel leaned against the door with a smile. “Nothing. He didn’t find anything.”

  “He didn’t seem too concerned the lab would disagree with him.”

  “We need to call Clive.”

  By two, Rachel was given a clean bill of health, not a speck of lead in her blood. Much like T, the doctor explained that there was always a chance that another person in the house would test positive, and that she should have Owen tested as soon as possible if in fact there was lead detected in the old paint in the house.

  Clive called just after three, telling them the hearing was scheduled for eight in the morning the following day. Which for Rachel wasn’t good news.

  “Owen is stuck in the foster home for another night.” She glanced at her cell phone, wishing desperately to contact him.

  “I’ll call Nathan, have him talk to Owen and make sure he’s okay.”

  Even though the day had been a success, Rachel sat on her couch, her eyes blankly staring at the wall in front of her.

  Jason came back into the room and sat beside her. “Nathan is calling him.”

  She leaned her head on Jason’s shoulder.

  “Hey, what happened to your smile?”

  “I’ve done all I can. It’s not up to me anymore. This is going to come down to my word against the Colemans’. My lack of family ties. How can I prove I didn’t flee the country just to see if I could if I needed to?”

  Jason tightened his arm around her. “Let’s see . . . you didn’t hijack a plane. You didn’t cause the plane in Costa Rica to crash. I’m the one that suggested Owen come with us. And we all came back. This is all going to work out.”

  “They are his blood relatives. TJ is Owen’s dad. It’s nearly impossible for me to stop the man from taking custody of his son.” The argument ran through her brain like a mantra.

  Jason kissed the side of her head. “Why don’t you pack a bag and stay with me until all this blows over.”

  Her eyes fell on the empty space where the Christmas tree had been up until the end of December. They hadn’t pushed the furniture back in place before they’d flown off to Central America. “Sitting here is just going to depress me.”

  He helped her off the couch. “Go and pack. I’ll take the trash out.”

  When she was done filling a small suitcase with some essentials, she stopped by the pile of bills she’d neglected. She opened a side pocket of her bag and shoved it all inside. Her laptop became part of the overnight bag with the intention of making sure they had a house to come back to once Owen was home.

  She left the porch light on, closed the shades, and locked the door on their way out.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  “I’m not going back there.” Owen pocketed his cell phone after he finished talking with Nathan.

  Ford and Lionel sat with him in the high school gym, offering teenage advice.

  “You can stay with one of us,” Ford said.

  “My mom would be okay with you staying the night.”

  “They’ll just come get me from your place, Lionel. No, I need to disappear.”

  They both looked at him like he was c
razy.

  “And go where?”

  Owen had been thinking about that all day long. In his mind, he had a couple of options. Both were places no one would ever think they’d find him. “The police will question you both, and I don’t need you ratting me out.”

  “We’d never do that.”

  “The cops always get to the truth. And if you don’t know it, you can’t tell it.”

  “What are you going to do about school?” Ford asked.

  Owen shrugged. “School will be there when all this goes away.”

  Lionel and Ford exchanged glances. “And what if it doesn’t? What if the court sides with your grandparents?”

  “Then school won’t matter, because I’m not living with them. I’ll really run away then.” He’d get word to Rachel and she’d flee with him. That was the pact they’d made over his mother’s grave, and he was going to keep her to it.

  His cell phone buzzed in his pocket. “Oh, man.”

  “What?”

  “It’s Mr. Sims.”

  Lionel glanced at the screen on his phone. “The dude that let the other kid punch you?”

  “Yeah.” Owen texted the man, said he was in the library finishing up a project. “I gotta go.”

  “So you aren’t going to run away?”

  Owen shook his head and handed Ford his phone. “The last time you saw me was in the library. When you looked, you found my cell phone in your backpack.”

  “Don’t you need your phone?”

  “So they can trace it? C’mon, man, think.”

  Lionel’s eyes were wide. “You’re really going to run.”

  “I’m really not going back to that place.”

  They all stood.

  “Are you going to be okay?”

  “I’ll be fine. And when Rachel talks to you guys, get her alone and tell her my mother didn’t raise a fool and that I said I’d be okay.” Owen hated that he was going to worry her, but he couldn’t exactly tell her where he was going without getting her in trouble. “Wait.”

  He took his cell phone back and turned the camera on himself and hit “Video.”

  “Hey, Rachel. I know you’re gonna be pissed and worried. I’m sorry for that. But I can’t go back to that place. And I’m not living with the hag and her chubby sidekick. And if my dad is behind all of this, well, fuck him. This wasn’t right. Once all the adults start acting like adults, I’ll be back. And if they can’t . . .” He paused. “Well, my mom didn’t raise a fool. I love you.”

  He turned his phone off and handed it back.

  “Stall them if you can.” He calculated how long it would take to get where he was going and decided to throw everyone off his trail. “I can be in the city in a couple of hours.”

  “Dude!” Ford yelled after him.

  Owen ran out of the gym without looking back.

  Jason and Rachel walked through the door of his home and were greeted with the scent of food filling the kitchen.

  Rachel turned to him. “Do you have a cook?”

  He shook his head no while saying, “Sometimes.”

  Several voices drew them in to the center of the home. Jason was never so happy to see his brothers and, even more, their wives.

  Monica wrapped Rachel in a warm embrace. “How are you holding up?”

  Rachel was an instant water fountain of tears.

  Mary flanked her other side, and the three of them walked out of the kitchen.

  Mary turned to Glen. “Don’t let that burn,” she told him, pointing toward the stove.

  “It’s boiling water,” Glen said.

  She glared.

  “Well, I guess that answered the question about how Rachel is doing,” Trent said. He pushed Glen out of the way and stepped in wherever Mary had left off cooking.

  “Is it bad?” Glen asked.

  Jason looked at the backs of the women as they talked quietly to Rachel. “She’s held it together really well most of the day.”

  “Any word?”

  “It’s like watching grass grow. The only one talking to Owen is Nathan. The lawyer is moving things along, but we won’t know any more until after tomorrow’s hearing.”

  “And the house?” Trent asked.

  “Clear. I knew it would be. We won’t have those official papers for a couple of days.”

  The three of them shook their heads in silence.

  The back door opened, and Nathan walked in with a nod. “Hello, gentlemen. I smelled food.”

  Trent turned back to the stove and added dry pasta to the boiling water.

  “Hey,” Jason greeted his friend. “How is he?”

  Nathan found the women with his eyes and lowered his voice. “He’s not happy. Had a little scuffle last night with the other boys at the home he’s at.”

  “What?”

  Nathan lifted a hand in the air. “Settle, it sounded like a simple pissing match to see who wore the bigger boots. Nothing you three didn’t do, I’m sure. He’s more upset about not being able to talk to Rachel. But he cares too much for her well-being to risk the phone call.”

  “You told him she was in jail.”

  Nathan looked directly in Jason’s eyes. “He already guessed.”

  “Can you imagine what we would have done if someone put our mom in jail?” Glen asked.

  Jason shook his head. “Yeah, but Owen’s smarter than we were.”

  “Let’s hope so,” Trent said.

  The women returned to the kitchen. All of them had been crying.

  Jason felt his system short-circuiting. He could hardly handle one tear-filled woman. Three was way out of his wheelhouse.

  Apparently with age came understanding. Nathan came to the rescue. “Do you all feel better now?”

  The three of them looked at one another and offered silent nods, and then jumped in to finish fixing dinner.

  “Have you spoken to your parents?” Mary asked Rachel during dinner.

  She pushed the food around on her plate as she talked. “No. I’m not sure how to tell them I was in jail.”

  “It really is unbelievable,” Monica said.

  “I doubt any parent wants to hear their kid is in jail. Besides, they told me from the beginning that the Colemans weren’t going to blend into the background, regardless of where I lived.”

  “What do you mean?” Glen asked.

  Rachel didn’t hear the question.

  “Rachel took the job with us to move closer to try and appease Owen’s grandparents and avoid a custody battle.”

  Rachel glanced up and caught up on the conversation. “I didn’t realize how screwed up they’d be.”

  Mary placed her hand over Rachel’s. “You tried to do the right thing.”

  “Lotta good that did. I should have beelined to the border and learned Spanish.”

  “What did Emily tell you about them?”

  Rachel gave up on trying to eat and left her fork in her food. “She didn’t know them. TJ had told her that they were controlling parents that didn’t give him the opportunity to live. Which is why Em refused to tie him down. She saw how he fled when he had the chance, and didn’t want Owen to become dependent on him and then have him disappear.”

  The phone in the house shot two short rings.

  “Expecting anyone?” Glen asked Jason.

  Jason shook his head and got up to answer it.

  “Hello?”

  “What is that?” Rachel asked.

  “The gate at the entrance of the house,” Mary told her.

  Jason glanced around the room, his gaze stopping at Rachel.

  Her heart kicked hard in her chest.

  “Come on in.”

  Jason pressed a button on the phone before hanging it up.

  “Who is it?” Glen asked.

  “Local police.”

  Rachel started to shake. Her breath caught high in her throat.

  They walked to the door and watched while Jason opened it.

  Mary stood at Rachel’s right, Monica to
her left.

  The squad car drove up, and two uniformed officers stepped out.

  A radio squealed from one of their shoulders, their belts clicked as they approached. “Good evening.”

  Rachel heard a chorus of polite hellos.

  “Which one of you is Rachel Price?”

  Did everyone just move closer to her, or was the universe sucking air from her lungs?

  “What’s this about?” Jason asked.

  The officer speaking introduced himself and kept scanning the lot of them. His eyes fell on her. “It appears Owen has run away,” he said without preamble.

  If not for the women at her side, there was a strong possibility that Rachel would have fallen over.

  “Run where?” she cried.

  Both officers focused their gazes on her.

  “We were hoping you might know.”

  “Oh, God.” Owen!

  “I don’t know where he went,” Ford told them. They stood in Ford’s home with the boy’s father at his side.

  “But you knew he was leaving?” the police officer asked.

  Rachel had a strong desire to shake the kid. He knew something he wasn’t telling them.

  “He said he wasn’t going back to that place.”

  “What place?” Rachel asked.

  “The foster home. He had a fat lip,” Ford announced. “The kids there talk with their fists.”

  Rachel squeezed her eyes closed. “Owen doesn’t fight.”

  “Yeah, that’s why he had a fat lip.” Ford glared at the cops as if they were to blame. “If everyone just left him where he was, none of this would have happened.”

  Rachel pushed the dread in her heart away and tried to focus. “Did he leave any clue as to where he went?”

  Ford shuffled from foot to foot.

  He knew something.

  “Ford? He’s fifteen and it’s winter. Please. He might think he’s all tough, but we’re from California. It’s supposed to be in the teens tonight,” Rachel told him.

  Jason placed an arm around her shoulders.

  “He, a . . . he said something about the city.”

  “New York?”

  Ford shook his head. “Might be. He didn’t say much. Just that he could be there in a couple of hours.”

  Rachel turned to Jason. “He could have taken the train.”

  “And gone where, hon? The city might only be five miles long, but you know how vast it is.”