Against Me (Cedar Tree Book 3)

by Freya Barker

  Pops woke up briefly when Mal came in with the groceries and barely coherently started yelling at us being in his house. Something about respect for your elders. Right.

  "Shut up, Pops," Mal snarled at him, when he kept on rambling.

  I promised myself long ago not to get sucked into the negativity any longer, so I didn't say a word. My parents and brother chose their path; it didn't mean I had to be dragged along. I would stand by my choices, on my own if I had to, and I had for over twenty years now.

  "Your fucking phone's ringing!" Mal's voice comes bellowing up the stairway. I must've left it in the kitchen when I was cleaning there. Taking two steps at a time, I make a beeline for the kitchen, hoping the ringing hasn't woken my father again. Don't need another repeat performance.

  I find Mal standing by the kitchen counter, my cell in his hand. He’s looking at the screen with his eyes squinted tight, listening to it ring in his hand.

  "Phone?" I hold out my hand expectantly.

  He tears his eyes from the screen and without a word, tosses my cell on the counter and walks out of the kitchen. What the hell?

  I snatch it up and hit talk, “Yeah?”

  "Know you're busy, my friend, but we have a situation. It's Katie."

  My son...

  Why would Juan call the creepy Latino guy 'son' when that's supposed to be his nephew? For all the time I've spent with him over the past month or so, I've never seen him this upset, or known him to be that confused. Would this be one of his children? The ones who never show their faces? The investigator in me has bells going off all over the place. I don't have a very good feeling about this, but have nothing to really base it on.

  The incident with Juan made me forget all about dinner, and with a quick glance at the clock, I see I have to hustle if I want to make it to the dining room in time for the last sitting. Grabbing a light sweater and my room keys, I head out, keeping an eye on my neighbor's door, but there’s no sign of life.

  Downstairs, I find the dining room almost empty, most folks here preferring to eat earlier. Juan often joins me later. Looking to our usual spot, I'm a little disappointed to find the table empty, but I grab a tray and make my selection, then I sit by myself.

  Halfway through a tasteless chunk of tilapia and some steamed vegetables in an attempt to battle my growing bulge, I notice Sue on the other side of the dining room and wave to get her attention.

  "Hey girl, watcha doing sitting here all by your lonesome?" She asks as she pulls out a chair to sit down beside me.

  "Almost forgot to eat after that little scene outside my door earlier. You on break?"

  "Nah, I'm done for the day. I was on my way to grab a coffee for the drive home, but I'll sit with you for a bit." She plops her bag on an empty chair next to her and settles in.

  "So what's with the slinky smooth dude? You've seen him before?"

  "Ugh," she says, making a face, "Ernesto. He’s as fake as a two-dollar bill. All smiles and teeth until you look into his eyes. They're black holes; dead and soulless. No emotion in them whatsoever. He freaks me out. First time I saw him was last year when Juan moved in, which was just after you did. I was dispensing his evening meds when the guy just barges into the room without knocking and seemed angry to see me there. When he realized I was staff, he introduced himself as Juan's nephew and tried to assure me he was just looking to make sure Juan had settled into his new home. He actually flirted with me."

  The look of disgust on Sue's face and her involuntary shiver make me laugh.

  "That bad, huh?"

  "Ewww. Gives me the creeps, and in the few times I've seen him since, he hasn't let up on the flirting thing. Makes my hair stand on end."

  "So what happened this afternoon?"

  "I hadn't seen him come in, but he came barging into the nurse's station earlier, demanding to know where his uncle was. I assumed he was in his room, but when I suggested it he almost bit off my head. He said he'd checked there first. Then he went storming off and I guess he found him outside your door."

  "Actually no, now that I think about it, he didn't. Juan was visiting with me, upset about something and when he tried to open the door to leave, it was being pulled on from the outside already. The slinky dude, Ernesto? He was right outside and yelled at Juan when he saw him. I think Juan is afraid of him."

  I don't want to share that I suspect Juan may actually be his father, not just yet. Not until I have a better idea of what is going on.

  "Sue, do you know anything more about Juan? About his family? Where he’s from or how he came here?" I quietly ask her, keeping an eye on our surroundings to make sure we won't be overheard. She seems hesitant, focusing on her fingers and fiddling with the rings on her hands rather than looking at me. When she finally does, it’s, with nothing short of fear in her eyes.

  "I'm not sure it's a good idea for you to get into this, Katie. Actually, I'm pretty sure it isn't. When I tried to ask questions about him after my first confrontation with Ernesto, I was told in no uncertain terms that I was not to stick my nose where it had no business being." Her normally lively demeanour has completely disappeared. I cover her hand with mine, stopping her twirling fingers.

  "Who told you that?"

  "Our director, Holman. Now please, let's just drop the subject, ok?"

  "Listen. I don't want to cause trouble for you, but I'm worried about the old man. He's been nothing but nice to me since I got here, but I'm not going to make you say or do anything you're uncomfortable with. Go home; relax. Forget I mentioned anything."

  Without saying a word, but offering a little smile, Sue picks up her stuff and leaves. I'm already contemplating what my next move is going to be. Do I risk trying to hack into one of the facilities' computers to see what I can find out, or should I just concede to the whiz kid right off the bat? Hmm. Neil it is.

  Just as I roll my chair back to go drop off the tray at the counter, I catch a shadow in the dining room's entry way. Mr. Sleek and Slinky, Ernesto, is leaning against the wall, not even trying to hide the fact that he’s glaring at me. What the fuck? I quickly drop the tray on the counter and turn back around, only to find him gone.

  I don't think I've ever hated being confined to this fucking wheelchair more than right at this moment, and without hesitation, I make for the elevators to get up to my room where I can lock myself in and think calmly and rationally. Preferably with the bottle of Glenfiddich I keep for when Caleb comes.

  Caleb. How ironic he just left for a job that afternoon and is the first person that comes to mind when I need to talk. and I need to talk to someone.

  The elevator is empty, thank God, and I find no one roaming the halls when I get to my room. I'm momentarily tempted to try and knock on Juan's door to see how he’s doing, but that might not be wise, so I lock my door, find the bottle of Glenfiddich, a glass and proceed to contemplate my strategy.

  A sharp rapping on my door breaks through my fog. When I peel my eyes open, I can see it's daylight out and I’m still in my chair. Lovely. I'm going to have a crick in my neck today, although I have a feeling that might be the least of my problems. My fucking head is about to explode. Another sharp knock reminds me there is someone waiting.

  "Hold on!" I try to yell, but it comes out no more than a croak. What the hell did I do to myself last night? But the struggle to remember has me lightheaded and nauseous.

  Flicking the lock on the door – I seem to have had the presence of mind to throw that on last night at least – I pull it open to find a uniformed police officer and plain-clothed cop with the facility's director Holman, all with serious looks on their faces. Shit.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  "She's what!"

  My raised voice must have woken up my pops, because he appears in the doorway to the kitchen with a confused look on his face. I turn my back on him and my attention back on Gus, who’s on the line.

  "Taken in for questioning this morning. At least that’s the official word out there. She had the presence of mi
nd to contact the office before they took her. Dana answered, got Neil on the other line, and he got through to me. He's been digging away ever since, trying to get hold of a contact of ours with the GJPD, but so far, no luck. Sit tight, I'm on the road now and I'll let you know what the scoop is."

  "Sit tight, my ass! I'm on my way." I bite out, not doing well being told to stay back when he’s talking about my girl.

  "Caleb, you have a job to do. You just got there, and leaving now could seriously fuck that up," Gus tried to convince me.

  I actually laughed at that.

  "You for real? This was Emma in trouble, would you sit back and wait for someone else to fix it? You'd keep doing your job and wait for me to tell you which way is up? Fuck that, Gus. I'm on the road in five." I hit end, tuck the phone in my pocket and I’m about to head out when I see my dad standing by the door. His unusual hazel eyes focused this time, straight on me.

  "Leaving so soon?"

  "A friend ran into some trouble, so I have to head back to Grand Junction."

  "More important than your áłchíní, your family?" He mocks me as I pass by him. It’s something I would otherwise ignore, but I’m wound up and anxious to get to the hotel, grab my stuff and get moving, so I stop and turn to face him, bring my face close and bite out, "She is my family."

  I can hear his deriding chuckle behind me as I climb in the SUV, but I've said as much as I'm gonna say. There isn't anything positive to be pulled out of this situation and there’s no reasoning with a man who lost his soul decades ago. I know, I've tried enough, and since then, I've tried to make sure that the only thing I’ve inherited from him is the unusual hazel color of my eyes, and nothing else.

  My brother isn't anywhere in sight when I leave the house, but I'm sure one glimpse at the call display on my phone killed any tentative inroads I might have had with him over the few hours we'd spent 'bonding' over our parents' mess. He can figure out what the tag 'Boss' on the screen stands for, I've never kept my business a secret – unlike Malachi – but I'm sure the reminder we are on opposite sides of the law was like a cold shower. Regardless, by the time I get outside, his truck is already gone.

  It doesn't take me long to pick up my stuff from the Travelodge and get back on the road. This time I'm avoiding the mountains. I’m not taking any chances being waylaid by slides and road closures. I gotta get to Katie. Don't have a good feeling about this.

  I've been stuck in this room for going on three hours now and I still can't get a grasp on what they want from me. The fucking hangover doesn't help much, either. I can remember being scared when I caught that creep watching me in the dining room, and being pissed off I actually felt vulnerable enough to get scared. I also remember clearly getting to my room, locking the door and hauling out Caleb's prized bottle of Scotch, thinking I'd calm myself down before calling in the troops, but it all gets fuzzy after that. Actually, I got nothing after that until these yo-yo’s woke me up this morning, still comatose in my chair. Apparently, I never even made it to bed. All they said was there had been a problem that occurred overnight and they needed me to come in for questioning. Since they weren’t being very forthcoming, I insisted on calling my lawyer before I went anywhere, and called the GFI offices instead, hoping to get Neil or Dana. They would find out what the hell is going on.

  Yet here I am, still sitting in this damn room where Detective DiRoberto and officer Beck left me after a brief round of questions about my whereabouts last evening and night, which I answered to the best of my knowledge. When I asked what had happened, all I got was a "we'll be right back," and they were out the door. That was about two hours ago according to the clock on the wall.

  I'm wearing the clothes I fell asleep in last night. I haven't even brushed my teeth or run a washcloth over my face, let alone had anything to eat or drink and I really, really need to piss. Twice already I knocked on the door I found they had locked, to get someone's attention, but no luck. They keep me waiting much longer and I'll piss on the floor. Let them clean up the mess and then I'll launch a fucking complaint afterwards. Morons.

  I was getting good and steamed up when the click of the lock being released had me look up and see DiRoberto come in the room, followed by Gus.

  "Katie," he nods in my direction, "You okay?"

  "Am I okay? No, I am not fucking okay. I've been stuck here for three goddamn hours without food or drink, or – and let me point out that this is of utmost importance – a goddamn washroom break! I'm about to piss my pants and I don't give a rat's ass if it's all over your damn floors!"

  Most of my tirade’s been directed at the detective whose previous blank look is replaced with a barely detectable frown, but when Gus turns his ire on the detective as well, the change in DiRoberto is instant.

  "Are you fucking telling me my disabled employee, whose ass was dragged in here as a potential witness to a murder, has been left without basic needs? I could have your fucking badge for this!" He thunders two inches from the detective's face.

  But I've stopped listening. I stopped listening when I heard 'potential witness to a murder,' and a sick feeling settles in my stomach. What? I lift my hand to stop the tirade, but it isn't until I yell his name that Gus turns to me.

  "Gus! What murder? Who’s dead?"

  "They found the body of a woman in the dumpster on the edge of the nursing home's parking lot this morning. All indicators are she died sometime last night. She was a nurse at Larchwood."

  My hand slapped over my mouth to hold back the bile that was coming up. I'm afraid to ask, but I need to know for sure.

  "Who? What was her name?" I whisper.

  "Woman by the name of Susan Conklin." Detective DiRoberto has to look at his notebook to get the name right.

  "Sue. She goes by Sue," I manage, before I start heaving.

  Another small room with another small window, but this time it’s a bathroom in the police station where I’m trying to clean myself up after spitting up bile all over myself. I wasn't very clean to start with, but now I reek like a homeless alcoholic after a 5 day binge. One of the female officers was kind enough to give me a spare set of sweats she had in her locker, or else I'd have to go back in there stinking to high heaven, but I’m going back in there. I have so many questions.

  A commotion outside the bathroom is penetrating my thoughts, and I'm about to stick my head out to see what’s going on when I hear Caleb's voice.

  "Where is she? I need to see her right the fuck now. Tell me where she is or I'll tear this whole goddamn place down. I took three and a half hours to make a four and a half hour drive to get here, with nothing but my thoughts. I just need to see her."

  When I pull open the door, he’s standing right there in the hallway, all six foot five inches of him. His normally calm hazel eyes are looking wild, and Gus is standing just steps away with his hands up defensively. Oh boy. Not sure what I just stepped into, but let's calm this sucker down.

  "Caleb," I call out to him, "in here."

  Two steps it takes for him to reach me. Two steps and his hands are on my face, his eyes scanning every inch of me.

  "You okay? You all right? What happened?"

  I grab his wrists to still him.

  "Come with me."

  In the small bathroom, I close the door on us and turn to face him.

  "I'm sorry I smell like the morning after a frat party gone bad, but I'm trying to clean up."

  "Don't care," Caleb mutters as he sinks on his knees in front of me and buries his face in my neck. It doesn't take a minute for him to pull back with a chuckle, "Okay, I give. You do smell. Let's clean you up."

  Without another word, he strips my shirt off and moves to take off my soiled yoga pants as well when I stop him.

  "Erm, excuse me, but I can handle this, Caleb. Ever since about three years old, and I've been quite good at it."

  He looks at me confused, and then slightly embarrassed when he clues in.

  "Right. Want me to wait outside?"

 
"I promise I won't be long," I assure him.

  I need a few minutes to process what just happened. At the best of times, Caleb is intense, but having all that intensity directed squarely at me was, well, rather overwhelming.

  I didn't totally mind it, though.

  Flanked by Gus and Caleb this time, I find myself back in the same room I started in, except someone thankfully cleaned up the mess I made and put out some coffee. Thank the Lord. I was ready for some caffeine, some details, and then for this day to be over, and in that order.

  Detective DiRoberto, accompanied by his boss, Sergeant Teva, a short buxom and fierce black woman who clearly wasn’t impressed with her department's handling of the matter thus far, as witnessed by her repeated apologies to me and scathing sideways glances at DiRoberto, who sat squirming in his seat across from me.

  "It appears my detective here received a phone call this morning from one of his regular informants with a tip about a body in the dumpster at the Larchwood Inns and your name was mentioned as a person of interest, Ms. Acker-"

  "Katie, please," I interrupt.

  "Very well. Katie. Upon arrival at the home, DiRoberto and his assigned officer discovered the deceased body of Ms. Susan Conklin, an employee. He secured the scene, called in the appropriate enforcements and proceeded to contact Larchwood's director, Mr. Holman, who met with our officers in the lobby. With Mr. Holman's assistance, they obtained security footage of the previous night to see if Ms. Conklin's movements could be traced. After observing an interaction between yourself and the victim in the dining room and the victim leaving in an apparent agitated state, Detective DiRoberto felt that was sufficient evidence, combined with the telephone tip, to haul you into the precinct for some hard-core GJPD hospitality. Isn't that right, DiRoberto?"