“You guys do realize that they have goatees because they don’t have enough testosterone to grow full beards yet?” Her friends ignored Cecilia. “And even at that, they still have to use eyebrow pencils to fill in their mustaches.”
Helen elbowed her in the side. “Shh! If we can do a little touch-up work, why can’t they?”
“And the folder?” Cecilia asked, incredulous that her friends would swoon over such cretins.
“Oh, look how lucky we are…” Francesca said as she pointed to the other end of the quad. A group of five jocks strode across the lawn as if they were gladiators returning in victory. Even though it was like, seventy-eight degrees, they each had on their letterman jackets. The boys were so covered in huge varsity letters that they were nearly stacked upon one another.
The tallest and broadest of shoulder, John, led the group. Cecilia picked up the pace. He was possibly the only person she wanted to hang out with less than the goth boys.
“Hey, wait up!” the jock called out, but Cecilia struck for Building D’s large double doors. She really did not want to have to talk with him. All the speculation during their junior year was that he and Cecilia would be crowned King and Queen of the prom this year. Even she had gotten wrapped up in what others called the “dream team.”
Had it only been a year since the prom was the focus of her life? When after school was filled with booster club and cheerleading? It seemed like an entirely different life.
Today after school, all she had to look forward to was the state of disarray her mother was in, and whether or not they had any food in the refrigerator. That and dishes, and, of course, laundry. If they had enough money to buy detergent, that is.
Crap, she thought. She’d forgotten to check the bank account online before she left for school to see if her mom’s disability check had cleared. If it hadn’t… well, it would be frozen burritos again.
“Look! Michael and the others are coming too!” Francesca hissed as she smiled at the goth boys.
The last thing Cecilia wanted was drama.
Unfortunately, that is exactly what she got as all three groups got to the door at the same time.
“Hi, Cecilia,” both John and Michael said at the same time.
The jock sneered at the dark-haired boy. “Michael, why don’t you just knock off… you…sheep-sucker.”
“At least I don’t wear a dress and sing like a girl,” Michael retorted.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Helen said. “There are more than enough of us to go around!”
But the much larger John turned a shade of red reserved for cartoon figures. “I’m an altar boy, you—”
The jock took a swing at Michael, but the goth boy seemed surprisingly prepared for that. Actually, it seemed that he had goaded John into the motion as he ducked under the punch and ended up next to the door. Before anyone could respond, Michael opened the door with a flourish, and bowed.
“Ladies first.”
As John stammered behind them, Cecilia couldn’t help but grin.
Okay, so maybe Michael was pretty cute.
* * *
Paxton rushed into the video arcade. Given that it was in the middle of a school day, the place was pretty quiet. Only one machine in the back dinged and whistled. He shook his head as he made his way to the sound.
Sure enough, he found a slight, dark-haired boy playing like his life depended on it. How he had hoped it wasn’t his nephew, but the Lady of Sorrows uniform pretty much confirmed that it was.
“Jeremy,” Paxton said, “I thought we had an agreement about truancy.”
The boy kept playing. “Oh, man! I paid the clerk five bucks not to narc on me!”
“Well, he didn’t. It was the convenience store owner across the street who called me, but thanks for letting me know about the clerk.” Paxton looked over his shoulder at the pimply twenty something guy at the counter. He made the “eyes on you” gesture, as the guy slunk back to the front desk. Paxton would have a nice talking-to with him later. For now, he needed to get Jeremy back to school.
“All right, that’s it,” Paxton said.
“Oh, come on, Uncle Pax! Let me at least finish this game.”
Without warning, Paxton jiggled the joystick, causing the on-screen player to hurl himself off a mountain. “Time for you to play another game that I like to call ‘college preparation.’ ”
Jeremy, though, flew back in a rage.
“Is everyone working on remote? Does everyone have a collective stick up their butts?” Jeremy’s tone dropped, as if he were reciting the words of another. “Death is never far, and we must seize the moment!”
“Yeah, well, you are going to seize a schoolbook and get your butt into a classroom.”
Paxton tried to guide Jeremy toward the door, but the kid balked.
“This is kidnapping.”
“No, hog-tying you and throwing you in a truck with a gag in your mouth would be kidnapping. This? This is saving you from juvie.” Paxton pointed to the door. “Now, get in the car.”
Jeremy walked, sullen and slow, but walked out of the arcade. Once they were in the car, Paxton went to turn the key, but stopped. His nephew deserved more than this.
“Look, Jeremy, you know that I would do anything for you and—”
“You gonna bring Dad back from the dead?”
“If I could, I—”
The teen was not placated, though. “Fine. How about something in your control? How about getting Mom’s head out of the bottle? Why are interventions only for celebrities?”
Paxton stiffened. He and his sister had a rocky relationship before his brother-in-law’s death. Paxton was about the last person in the world she would want help from. But try telling that to Jeremy.
“Recovery only happens when the person is ready for—”
“Fine,” Jeremy said, cutting him off. “Then how about we come live with you?”
The thought of his tiny one-bedroom apartment strewn with takeout and an extremely dirty cockatiel cage gave Paxton pause. Jeremy read more than that, though, into the silence.
“That’s what I thought. So why don’t you save this good cop routine for work and drop me off where somebody actually cares about me?”
The frustration of the day, and his shame at not being able to do more for his family, flared to the surface.
“Do you think you’re the first teenager to have problems and use them to destroy your life?” Paxton’s knuckles turned white as he gripped the steering wheel. “You’re just the latest in a long list to pull this social outcast crap. If you doubt me, go rent Rebel Without a Cause.”
He looked over at his nephew to find his eyes glazed over with tears. Jesus, the kid was going through enough. He didn’t need Paxton piling on. Just one more reason why he was the last person in the world to take these kids in.
More in control, Paxton started the car and pulled out into traffic. Silence hung in the air between them, punctuated only by the occasional sniffle that Jeremy tried to hide.
“Jeremy, I am not trying to say that your life doesn’t suck. I know it does.”
Boy, did he know. It was nearly a flashback to his own childhood. Only he and his sister, Susan, had lost their mother—and were left with their drunken, raging father. Paxton knew that he had that kind of anger inside of him. He did not want to roll the dice, as Susan had, and start a family.
Jeremy sat beside him, looking out the window as the city flowed past them. He looked so young and fragile. A slip of a boy. Shoulders far too narrow to carry the burdens that life had given him.
“Take it from me, Jeremy. You will grow up and out of this mess.”
His nephew did not respond. Why would he? Paxton wasn’t exactly convincing himself. But during the course of his job, he had seen kids like Jeremy end up in foster care or worse, so Paxton had to try, even if it fell on deaf ears.
“I’m just trying to make sure that when you do get your own life, you’ll have some future left.”
&nb
sp; Jeremy snorted. “Thanks, but I’m doing just fine.”
Paxton ground his teeth. The kid gave new meaning to teenage angst. Perhaps it was time for a little tough love.
“Really? Because the next time I get a text like this, I’m not coming. I’ll let the uniforms pick you up, and you can spend a little time in juvie contemplating your attitude.”
Jeremy shifted in his seat to face even farther away from Paxton as he retorted, “I didn’t know you cared so much.”
“Damn it,” Paxton said as he made a right-hand turn into the school’s parking lot. “I do care, and if it takes locking you up in a detention center and chaining you to a school desk, then I will.”
“You wouldn’t dare lock me up!” Jeremy shouted as he turned back to Paxton. “It would break Mom’s heart.”
Paxton stopped the car. “Then my sister will just have to buy some superglue.” He reached out and tried to put his hand on Jeremy’s shoulder, but the teen flinched away. With a sigh, Paxton continued, “Your mom’s chosen her path. I can’t let you hitch a ride on that wagon.”
* * *
Jeremy felt Paxton squeeze his shoulder. He could feel his body relax under his uncle’s grip. Maybe if Uncle Pax knew how bad it really was? Mom could clean up if she knew someone was coming over. The empty bottles would be long gone by the time his uncle showed up. Maybe if he saw his mom like she was this morning…
Cecilia had shooed him out of the house. He hated to tell his big sis that he’d already seen Mom passed out in the bathroom before.
Maybe if Uncle Pax saw that, he would know what to do.
Jeremy went to open his mouth, but Paxton’s phone rang. His uncle frowned, but answered, “Detective Prover.” His uncle’s face clouded over. “Yeah, hang on a second.” He turned to Jeremy. “Look, I’ve got to take this.”
“Sure, of course you do,” Jeremy said as he opened the car door. “I’m sure some dead guy really needs your urgent help.”
Paxton sputtered something, but Jeremy was out of the car. Some things never changed. His uncle’s first love was his job, and his mother’s first love was… Well, he’d rather not say what that was. He broke into a trot as he headed toward the far side of the school. He needed to ditch his uncle if he hoped to ditch school.
“Jeremy!” a voice called from the quad.
He looked around to find his best friend walking toward him. “Evan! What are you doing out of class?”
His friend shoved his glasses up on his nose. “Mom had to drop off my history paper.” Evan indicated a car pulling out. “Was that your uncle?”
“Yep. Get used to seeing his taillights.”
Evan frowned, as if not quite sure how to take Jeremy’s words. Jeremy shrugged it off. If Uncle Pax wouldn’t bother to stick around, then why should Jeremy?
“I don’t know about you, but I’ve seen enough of this place.” He turned to Evan. “Let’s head over to the pool hall.
“Are you … are you kidding?” Evan gasped, looking ready for his inhaler.
“Of course not! The guy watching the door owes me a favor. We can get in for free.”
Evan’s eyes darted from Jeremy to his mother’s car disappearing down the street. “I don’t know. Mom will kill me if she finds out.”
“Well then, let’s get some fun in before we have to make the funeral arrangements!”
Evan only frowned, clutching his history paper to his chest. “But she drove all the way here so my assignment would be on time.”
Jeremy wasn’t going to let a stupid paper on Napoleon get in the way of what he was certain would be the best day of his life. “It’s what, the end of second period, right? And your paper is due fifth period, right?”
His best friend nodded slowly.
“Then we’ve got two periods of unbridled fun!” Jeremy began walking backward, then broke out into a trot. “Are you going to seize the day, or what?”
Evan’s face scrunched up, and he chewed his lip. “Well, they were just going to show a movie in English class.”
“And you have free period after that. The librarian never calls roll. We gotta live the life that Diana Dahmer says is going to slip through our fingers before we know it.”
Finally, Evan’s face broke out into a smile as he ran to catch up. “Just this once!”
Jeremy whooped, but not too loud.
You never knew where Sister Switzler was.
* * *
At a stoplight, Paxton dug around under his seat. There had to be something there. His fingers rustled up against plastic. With his face plastered against the steering wheel and his shoulder nearly dislocated, he finally grabbed hold of the edge of the package.
Victorious, he pulled out… an empty cupcake wrapper. Worse, it was completely empty. At some other desperate point he had licked it clean of crumbs. Life really was cutting him no breaks today.
He was about to take another try at the “under the seat” food lottery, but his phone buzzed in his pocket. Paxton glanced at the caller ID. Ruth. Crap.
Sliding his finger across the screen, he answered it, hoping she didn’t hear the car noises. “Hey, partner.”
God. Did he always sound so lame?
“How is the canvas going?” she asked.
Paxton cringed. All hopes that he was going to get out of this unscathed vanished. However, maybe he could limit the damage. “Not bad. Heading back to the station now.”
“No, you aren’t.”
“Um…” Paxton glanced around. How did she know? Then behind him came the blast of a siren. He looked in the rearview mirror. The car behind him had mini red and blue lights flashing. Which would make it Ruth’s car.
“Yeah, sorry. I had to get Jeremy to school again.”
“Well, I’m the last person to bust your chops for kid problems.” Paxton watched Ruth tilt her head to the right. “Take this corner, go three blocks, hang a left, and then pull up to the third store.”
“Oh, a secret rendezvous?” He regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth. Other guys could get away with playful banter. But Paxton? Today? Not very likely.
In the rearview mirror he could see Ruth frown. “Just drive.”
Feeling about as old as the nephew he just dropped off, Paxton slipped his phone back into his pocket. He turned his blinker on, but didn’t bother to check his blind spot until a honk sounded. Slamming on the brakes, he barely missed hitting a car in the right-turn lane. Ruth had saved him again.
Seriously, though, if he didn’t get some caffeine and sugar soon, he was going to do a lot worse than a fender bender. Much more carefully this time, Paxton checked his mirrors and his blind spot before turning right. He followed Ruth’s directions to the letter and pulled up at the curb.
Not exactly how he expected Ruth and their first secret liaison to go… Paxton caught himself. What was with him today? The damned ME must have infected him with sheer stupidity. Ruth was so far out of his league that… Well, let’s just say that Ruth probably didn’t get her breakfast from under her car seat.
His partner was all business as she got out of the car. He tried to keep the junk dispersal to a bare minimum as he joined her. Of course, he caught that cupcake wrapper under his shoe. Paxton tried to casually scrape it off on the curb, but only accomplished tripping instead.
Ruth’s eyebrow went up as she started to brief him. “So, your canvas,” Ruth said, making air quotes, “turned up a guy who had been hanging around Father Gonzales all week.”
With a few taps she brought a rap sheet up onto her phone’s screen. Damn, she was good. Paxton was just glad he had figured out how to answer his. It had been slightly awkward for the first two weeks that he had his phone. He had to let everything roll into voice mail since he couldn’t figure out the “answer” function. Ruth, however, practically had a multimedia experience going on.
“He is a recently released mental patient, Darby Fenkelhoffer.”
“Besides the name,” Paxton said as Ruth showed him a
picture of their possible perp. The guy had a shaved head, scar over his left cheek, and that I-belong-in-an-asylum look in his eye, “and his looks, what makes him our guy?”
Ruth switched back to the rap sheet and enlarged it. “He’s got some pretty significant violent tendencies, with multiple arrests.”
“Still, in this part of town, I doubt that we could throw a stick around here without hitting half a dozen perps matching that description.”
“Ah, but ones with such a fascination for crosses?” Ruth said as she pulled up a picture of Darby’s cell. Every inch of the walls, ceiling, and even the floor, were covered in drawings of the cross. Many were in the upside down orientation.
“The pope would be jealous,” Paxton commented, as he looked over to find that they stood in front of a “Christ’s Gift,” religious bookstore. “So we think he might be here?”
Ruth shrugged. “A patrol car went by Darby’s halfway house and found several receipts from a variety of bookstores. This one just happened to be the closest.”
Paxton headed toward the entrance. “Good enough for me.”
But Ruth did not join him. Instead, a playful grin tugged at the edge of her lips. “Don’t you want to know what else they found in Darby’s bathroom sink?”
“Not just a used toothbrush, I take it.”
“No. There were copious amounts of blood in the sink’s drain. Human blood.”
As she joined him, she popped the safety strap off her gun holster.
Paxton did the same. You could never be too careful with knife-wielding, mentally ill serial killers.
* * *
Cecilia stepped out of the way of her nearly stampeding classmates. Where did any of them have to go, except to third period? Helen caught her arm, though, and dragged her into the hallway.
“What did Father Fiefer eat for breakfast this morning?” The redhead gagged. “They can bottle it and use it for crowd control.”
As Francesca joined them, Cecilia looked out over the sea of blue, black, and white uniforms. “Have either of you seen Jeremy around?”
“No,” Helen replied. “But when do we ever?
Don't Read After Dark: Keep the lights on while reading these! (A McCray Horror Collection) Page 34
