by Irene Hannon
Funny. He’d been griping about the hot weather all day, lamenting the busted air-conditioning in the trailer that had turned the tin can into a sweatbox. Yet the heat wave might have saved his hide tonight.
His reconnaissance outing had been worthwhile, although he hadn’t planned to play private eye alone. This was Chuck’s idea, after all. But Chuck was scrambling to keep his meth circle intact now that he’d lost a key member—and trying to console Bev, who was beyond freaked. Who wouldn’t be? First she almost gets caught with a chrome taco while watching her neighbor’s kids. Too afraid to sneak back to her apartment to collect her stuff, she crashes at Lon’s place. Then she wakes up a few days later and finds him dead. Now that was a string of bad luck.
Daryl could relate.
But Chuck wasn’t happy. Bev had violated one of his cardinal rules: if you’re in trouble, don’t get me involved. Stay away.
How they were going to resolve their problem, Daryl had no idea. But he’d decided not to hang around while they hashed it out. The farther he removed himself from the situation, the safer he’d feel.
Though safety was a relative term.
A sudden gust of wind whipped through the trees, and a cloud scuttled across the moon, darkening the night. The thunder and lightning a few nights ago hadn’t amounted to anything, but this time he caught the scent of rain in the air and sensed the approach of unsettled weather. He didn’t like storms, but at least a downpour might offer a reprieve from the intense heat.
Once more, he scanned the back of Alison’s house, where a glow shone behind a drawn shade.
She was alone, except for her dog.
He knew that because his hiding place gave him a view of the street in front of her house too, and no one had come or gone all evening.
She was also vulnerable—despite the security system stickers he’d spotted the night they’d delivered the roses.
Not even the most elaborate alarms would protect her from the revenge he had in mind. Tonight’s reconnaissance mission had convinced him Chuck’s plan was very doable, with minimal risk of detection. It would just be a matter of waiting for the right moment, doing the job, and getting out. Fast.
Tomorrow was the night. With or without Chuck.
A sudden splash of rain against his forehead startled him, and he jerked back. Or tried to. But his ankle was stuck. For an instant, panic suffocated him, like it always did when he thought he was trapped. One sharp tug, however, freed him, and he let out his breath in a long whoosh. He must have gotten caught in a tangle of vines as he’d backed away from the dog. Some of them were still wrapped around his leg.
Weaving through the dense underbrush, he jerked them off. And hoped they weren’t poison ivy.
As he cautiously exited the thicket on the far side and hurried toward Chuck’s truck, he took one last look back toward Alison’s house. Only a very faint glimpse of the light in her window was visible through the trees. The thicket itself was pitch-black.
Perfect.
The rain intensified, and he picked up his pace. He wasn’t in any hurry to get back to the trailer, but if he kept the truck out too long, Chuck might not loan it to him again. And he needed it—for one more night, anyway. After that . . . he didn’t know.
About anything.
The future loomed like a black, empty void.
All he knew for sure was that hanging around Chuck wasn’t an option. Not unless he wanted to end up back in Potosi.
Back at the truck, he swung into the driver’s seat, started the engine, and drove toward the entrance to Alison’s small, dead-end street. As he approached, he spotted a cop car coming from the other direction. He slowed, watching as it turned down her street.
Could the timing have been any worse?
He slumped lower in his seat and kept his chin down.
But as he drove past the street, he risked a quick glance toward her house. The cop appeared to be doing a normal patrol circuit. He didn’t slow down, just cruised down to the end, turned around, and circled back to the entrance.
Still spooked, Daryl accelerated.
It had to be a fluke, though. A tiny street like that probably only saw a patrol car once a week, if that.
Besides, it didn’t matter. By the time his handiwork was discovered, he’d be long gone.
And there would be no witnesses.
He’d make certain of that.
“It’s only for thirty days, Ellen. Don’t give up.”
Alison sat beside the distraught dark-haired mother as the woman sank into one of the hard plastic chairs in the hallway of the Family Court building. But her consoling words did nothing to stem the flow of Ellen’s tears.
“I’ve tried so hard to do right by my kids.” She choked out the words, groping for a handkerchief in the pocket of the beige uniform slacks she wore for her job as a receptionist at a health club. “After Danny took off, I was determined to keep the rest of my family together. I work hard, I have reputable daycare, I pay my rent—why can’t the judge see that?”
“We’ve been over this before, Ellen.” Alison kept her voice gentle but firm. “The children were alone when the police arrived, and there was evidence of drug use outside your back door. The court’s main objective is to protect the welfare of the children.”
“That’s my main objective too.” She swiped the tissue across her eyes. “I’m not surprised by the stunt Stan pulled. He’s scum.” She spat out the word. “But I can’t believe Bev would do this. She seemed like such a nice person.”
“She may come back at some point to claim her stuff.”
“Unless she doesn’t care about it.”
Or doesn’t want to get caught.
Cole’s words echoed in Alison’s mind. There’d been little of material value when the superintendent had let the police in, but they’d found enough incriminating evidence of drug use to cause her serious problems . . . giving her a strong incentive to stay away.
Alison’s only hope was that a few of the personal items they’d noted might have sentimental value. Like the antique locket with faded, yellow photos inside. Or the small collection of Precious Moments figurines. Or an old teddy bear, frayed around the edges.
Still, Bev might never show. And considering their overwhelming caseload, the drug unit wasn’t going to spend a lot of time looking for her. They’d already placed a phone call to the sole relative they’d tracked down, a sister who lived in Idaho. But she hadn’t heard from her sibling in more than eight years. Nor had the BOLO alert they’d issued on her car yielded any results.
“Let’s assume she’s not coming back, Ellen.” Alison touched her hand to emphasize the importance of her next statement. “You need to demonstrate to the judge that you’re doing everything you can to provide a safe and healthy home for your children.”
“What else can I do?” The last word caught on a sob.
“I have some ideas, but right now you need to get to work. Losing your job won’t help your case.”
The younger woman glanced at her watch. Eyes widening, she shoved the tissue back in her pocket and jumped to her feet. “I had no idea it was this late!”
Alison rose too. “I’ll tell you what. I’ll jot down a few thoughts and drop them off at your place this afternoon, along with some material to look over. I have to be out in that area, anyway. After you review it, give me a call.”
The woman gripped her hand. “Thank you for everything. Most of all, for believing in me.” With one final squeeze, she hurried down the hall.
As Ellen disappeared around a corner, Alison followed more slowly. It was going to take a lot of perseverance to convince the judge Ellen was ready to reclaim her children. Plus a lot of hard work on the young mother’s part. If Ellen was willing to do the work, however, Alison intended to be her cheerleader.
After the ruling this morning, though, she could use a cheerleader herself.
Someone like Mitch.
She hadn’t heard from him yesterday, but she kn
ew he’d been busy. Cole had told her the homicide division had been hopping all week. Busy or not, though, he did have to eat. It was possible he’d be available for lunch.
Alison started to reach into her purse for her phone. Hesitated. She wasn’t accustomed to initiating dates. But what did she have to lose? Worst case, he’d say no.
Decision made, she pulled out her phone and tapped in his number. Much to her disgust, her heart tripped into a staccato beat as she waited for him to pick up. How ridiculous was that? She was thirty-four years old, not some schoolgirl with a crush.
Even if she felt like one.
He answered on the third ring. “Alison? Is everything okay?”
At the sharp edge of concern in his voice, she rushed to reassure him. “Yes. Sorry. I didn’t mean to alarm you. This is a social call.”
“Okay.” Relief smoothed the tension from his words. “What’s up?”
She moistened her lips. “Well, I was just wondering . . . since we never have made it to Ted Drewes, and our last get-together was a little rushed, I thought . . .” She sucked in a sharp breath. Just spit it out, Alison. “I wondered if you might be free for lunch today.”
When silence greeted her suggestion, a warm flush crept over her cheeks. Time to backpedal. “Look, I know it’s short notice. Don’t worry about—”
“Whoa. Wait a minute. I’m not letting you off the hook that fast. Give me a second to think about how I can juggle things to make this work.”
Did he want to go? Or was he simply trying to be polite, to think of some excuse that would allow her to save face?
“We can do it another day, if that’s better for you.”
“No. I’d like to have lunch with you today. In fact, I was planning to call you in about an hour to see how the Callahan hearing went. Is it over?”
“Yeah. And it went the way I expected. The children will stay in foster care until the next hearing in thirty days.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. You put in a lot of hours on that case.”
“But I couldn’t change the circumstances. Maybe I’ll have more to offer the next time we meet. I’m still hoping the neighbor shows up.”
“Hang on to that thought. Okay—about lunch. I have to run my father to a doctor’s appointment at St. Luke’s at eleven, and I promised to take him out to eat afterward. Why don’t you join us?”
“I wouldn’t want to intrude on your time with your dad. We can do this another—”
“Alison.” He cut her off firmly. “We live in the same house. I see him every day. Besides, he likes you.”
“He’s only met me once. For a minute or two.”
“Trust me. You made an impression. So where will you be about twelve thirty?”
Wherever you are.
That was the response that popped to mind. But she didn’t voice it.
“I have to do a home visit this morning. Then I have to stop at my office to pick up some GED material for Ellen. I could meet you somewhere halfway, if that works. Do you have a place in mind?”
He named a chain restaurant. “I know it’s not gourmet fare, but my dad likes it, and I let him pick the place today. Is that okay?”
“Sure. Why don’t you call me after you’re finished at the doctor’s office?”
“That works. And Alison . . . I’m glad you called.”
The warmth of his tone dispelled her lingering second thoughts. “I am too. See you soon.”
The line went dead, and Alison found herself smiling as she slipped her phone back in her purse and picked up her pace down the hallway. While the hearing hadn’t turned out as well as she’d hoped, lunch with Mitch would go a long way toward restoring her spirits.
The trailer felt like a morgue.
As Daryl sharpened the hunting knife Chuck had loaned him, he checked out the two occupants of the living room, visible over the pass-through counter in the kitchen. His host was sitting on the lumpy couch, ankle crossed over knee, jiggling his foot as he stared into space. Bev was slouched in the chair that oozed stuffing, her expression vacant.
They hadn’t said more than a few words to each other all morning. Bev had tried to start a couple of conversations, but Chuck had told her to shut up and let him think.
Suddenly Bev blinked, zoned in, and turned her head to look at him, her gaze lingering on the knife in his hands.
“Is there any food in this place? All I’ve had to eat since I left Lon’s yesterday is a candy bar.”
“Peanut butter crackers.” Daryl tested the edge of the knife with the pad of his thumb. Nice and sharp. Excellent. That would make it go quicker. “I picked up some soup and cereal in town yesterday too.”
She pushed herself to her feet. “I gotta eat something.”
Chuck focused on her. “You need to go to town. I have to cook up another batch tomorrow, and I need the stuff Lon was gonna get. We got customers waiting.”
She stared at him. “Are you nuts? The cops are looking for me. I left those kids alone, and you can bet they found the broken pipe. They’ve probably been through my apartment too.”
“You should’ve cleaned up the glass and gotten rid of all that stuff in your place before you left. That was stupid.”
Color surged in her cheeks. “Don’t call me stupid! I didn’t have time to get rid of anything! When Stan called to tell me the cops were on their way over to talk to Ellen, I got out as fast as I could.”
“How did you get roped into that babysitting gig, anyway?”
She lifted one shoulder. “When my neighbor called, she sounded desperate. Car trouble. She said she’d have taken the kids with her to the garage, but the baby had an ear infection. It was only going to be for a couple of hours.”
“And you had to have a fix while she was gone?”
She glared at Chuck. “That wasn’t in my plans. But I ran into Stan on my way to her place, and half an hour later he showed up with some ice. Extra good, he said. He was willing to give it to me, but he didn’t want it lying around. If I wanted it, I had to smoke it then. I wasn’t about to turn down a freebie. So I ran next door to get my pipe and some foil, then lit up outside Ellen’s back door. Things were just fine until the phone rang and Stan said cops were there, asking questions about her.”
“What’d she do to get the cops interested in her, anyway?”
“Beats me. She seemed like the real straight type. She works hard, and she sure loves her kids. I guess you never can tell about people, though.” She shrugged. “Anyway, I freaked. Dropped the pipe. I started to clean it up, but next thing I know, the cops are knocking on the door. I grabbed my purse, ran around the building, and headed for Lon’s. I thought I’d be safe there.” A grimace twisted her mouth.
“So who’s gonna get the stuff I need?”
Chuck stared at her in silence. She stared back. Then, in unison, they turned toward Daryl.
His heart stumbled, and he stopped sharpening the knife. “No way.”
“Come on, man. One time. That’s all I’m asking. I’ll line up somebody else before the next batch. We’re in a tight spot here.” Chuck walked into the kitchen.
Bev followed.
“If I get caught with anything connected to drugs, I’ll be back in Potosi faster than you can cook a batch. And I’ll never get out.”
“Look, we got everything covered except the cold pills. You just need to go to a few stores and pick some up. It’s no big deal.”
“It is if somebody gets suspicious.”
Chuck grabbed his shirt, bunched it in his fist, and moved in close. Too close. “It’s not against the law to buy cold medicine. I’ll give you a fake ID. Besides, you’re clean. Even if they stopped you, what could they prove?” Chuck invaded his personal space, and Daryl took an involuntary step back. “You owe me, man. I gave you a place to stay when your woman wouldn’t have anything to do with you. I also gave you that idea about how to deal with your social worker friend.” He gestured to the hunting knife. “Even bought the bingo cards.
Where you gonna go if I throw you out?”
He hadn’t considered that. Most likely, he’d end up back at the homeless shelter. And maybe that wasn’t such a bad idea. Maybe . . .
“I thought we were friends.”
The man’s fetid breath made his skin crawl, and as he looked into Chuck’s dilated pupils, Daryl tasted fear for the first time in their acquaintance. His onetime partner’s mean streak had widened considerably through the years, and Daryl didn’t doubt the man was capable of violence. He’d discovered weapons hidden all over the trailer, suggesting paranoia and a leaning toward aggression that had been absent five years ago when they’d started slinging meth.
“We are.”
“Then do this. One time.”
It wasn’t a request. Daryl’s fingers clenched on the knife in his hand, and he held on tight. “Okay. I have to go into town anyway.” He lifted the gleaming blade of the knife. “For this.”
“There you go. Just add this to your agenda.” Chuck grinned at him, revealing a mouthful of rotting teeth no dentist could save. “You can use Bev’s car. I changed the plates and the VIN.” He released his grip on Daryl’s shirt.
“What’s a VIN?” Bev sidled in.
“Vehicle identification number,” Chuck supplied. “Just don’t get stopped, since you don’t have a license.”
“Maybe you could pick some things up for me from my apartment too.” Bev edged closer.
“That’s not part of the deal.” Daryl slipped the knife back into its sheath. “Besides, the cops may be watching for you.”
“They’ve got enough to do without worrying about one druggie. Look, all I want is my mother’s locket. It’s on my dresser. Gold, with real pretty filigree around the edge. You can’t miss it. It would take you less than two minutes.”
“Forget the locket, Bev.” Chuck paced the living room, jiggling the change in his pocket. “It’s not worth the risk.”
