“I know he missed a turn and went over the side of the mountain.”
“If you already know how Jake died, I bet I know the reason for your call.”
I know he’s toying with me so I don’t reply, even though I have to pinch my lips together to keep from blurting, “What about the twins?”
“You want to know about Kimber and Gunner.”
Bingo.
“I heard Jake was alone in the vehicle,” I say. “I wanted to make sure the kids were all right.”
He lets me stew awhile before answering. “They’re here at New Dawn.”
I can’t hold back any longer. “I’d be glad to take care of them.”
“Ah, there it is,” he says. “It took you long enough to make your point. I know Jake asked if the twins could stay with you for a while and you agreed. It’s not going to happen.”
This guy is on such a power trip. It takes every ounce of my will power to hold back the flood of angry words and force myself to speak calmly. “The kids must be heartbroken. Who’s taking care of them?”
His voice is without emotion. “Not your worry. We have adequate care givers.”
“I’d like to see them.”
He chuckles again. “Quid pro quo, Ms. Sullivan. You know what that means, right?”
“I’m familiar with the concept.”
“For clarification purposes, I’ll spell it out. It’s an exchange of goods or services where one transfer is contingent upon the other.”
“So, if I want to see the twins, I need to do something for you.”
“Exactly. I’m sure you have an idea of what it is I want from you.”
“Since you seem to have the upper hand, maybe you should spell it out for me.”
“Your unique ability, of course. I have dealings with people who are not always honest. You can help.”
I can see a dozen pitfalls in his proposal. I toss one his way. “Since I can read souls and you can’t, how do you know I’ll be truthful?”
“My thoughts exactly. We need to meet and hash out the details.”
The last thing I want to do is meet with Ken Hitchcock, much less work for him. Unbidden, I feel the rush of warmth signaling Hope’s presence and, once again, hear her words. She needs you. They need you. I think about Kimber and Gunner, lost and alone. I know I’ll do whatever’s necessary to see them again. I say, “The sooner the better. I have to be at work by two tomorrow. Can we meet before then?”
“Tomorrow works for me. Be here at ten.”
“I’m afraid my car can’t handle your mountain roads. Can you come here?”
“I’ll send a car for you.”
“I’d prefer to meet at CyberSecure. It’s where my dad and I work.”
He’s not happy with this arrangement and hems and haws for a while. Finally, he agrees. I breathe a sigh of relief. Now, all I have to do is explain the situation to Steve and hope he doesn’t screw things up by going into dad mode. Maybe my new worries will crowd out the sadness I feel about Mick’s departure.
****
“So,” Steve says. “Let me clarify.”
He’s pacing back and forth across the office while I stuff a maple bar down my gullet. There’s always a supply of sugary, yummy pastries in the office, just begging to be eaten.
He stops and gazes down at me. “This Hitchcock guy, who you do not trust, wants you to read the souls of the various and sundry miscreants he’s dealing with. In return, you will be allowed to spend time with the little twins you’re so fond of. Am I correct so far?”
My mouth is full, so I nod.
“Do we have any idea who the clientele will be? Business associates? Fellow residents at New Dawn?”
I wipe my mouth with a napkin. A cloth napkin, I might add. Steve runs a high-class operation. “I assume we’re discussing the details today. It’s why I wanted the meeting here. I’d like your input.”
Steve folds his arms and leans against his extremely tidy desk. “You’ve read his soul. What did you see?”
“I’ll wait until you’ve had a look. You often see things I miss.”
“Fair enough.”
He looks thoughtful and when he speaks, he chooses his words carefully. “Mi hija, I do not like the idea of you being in danger, but I know, full well, you are determined to follow this course of action. I’ll do everything possible to help you.”
His words evoke an unseemly wave of emotion. I swallow the lump in my throat. Steve, who wasn’t around when I was growing up, has proven to be the loving and protective father I need in my adult years. He’s bailed me out of trouble more than once.
I dig a tissue out of my jeans pocket, blow my nose and mumble, “Thanks, Steve.”
The awkwardness of the moment vanishes as Hitchcock pushes through the door.
I make the introductions. The men make eye contact and shake hands. Steve waves Hitchcock into the chair next to mine and retreats behind his desk.
Hitchcock glances over at me. “Getting a second opinion from your dad?”
“Sure. Why not?”
“And, he knows about our deal?”
“He knows we’re negotiating a deal.”
He purses his lips in disapproval, but nods.
“You said you meet with people who may not be honest,” I begin. “We’d like to know more about that.”
Hitchcock turns to face me. “First, I need to explain the basic premise behind New Dawn. As I stated previously, it’s a refuge for people who have no other options. Some have been falsely accused and are running from the law. Some have been incarcerated and have no jobs, or family to take them in. Some are lonely misfits, longing to be part of something larger than themselves.” He pauses for a moment while Steve and I absorb the information.
“Why do I have the feeling you don’t provide for these people out of the goodness of your heart?” I ask.
The corner of his mouth twitches in a suppressed smile. “I gather you know this by looking into my soul.”
“Yes.”
He looks at Steve. “Do you agree with her assessment?”
Steve nods.
He rubs the stubble on his chin. “You’re both right. If folks want to stay at New Dawn, they have to contribute in some manner.”
“How did Jake contribute?” I ask.
A flush of anger rises in his cheeks. “He took care of orphaned twins, worked in our window covering business and ran our shooting range? Isn’t that enough?”
I recall the last time I saw Jake. His fingers were stained with ink. His eyes were red. He said he had work to finish. I got the impression he wasn’t indulging in a hobby. But, I want to keep Hitchcock talking and therefore need to tread lightly. “I’m sure he did more than his share.”
After a strained silence, Steve says, “How, exactly, will Melanie will be involved. As her father, I’m sure you understand I am concerned about her safety.”
“You needn’t worry. One of New Dawn’s guiding principles is the protection of females within our compound,” Hitchcock says.
That word again.
Steve bristles a little but doesn’t respond.
“To answer your question,” Hitchcock continues, “We’ve a number of applicants seeking refuge. I’d like Melanie to sit in on the interview, to determine if the person is being honest about his or her background, and to evaluate their ability to be a productive member of New Dawn.”
“Tall order,” I murmur.
He hastens to add, “To the best of your ability.”
“How do you know you can trust me?”
His gaze intensifies. “You’re familiar with the concept of a control group in science experiments?”
I harken back to my biology class. “Yes.”
“Every now and then,” he says, “I’ll have a person brought in, someone known to me. I’ll already know the correct answer to the questions I’m asking. Therefore, if you tell me something different, you’ll be lying to me.”
Steve stiffens in his cha
ir. “Mr. Hitchcock. You must realize soul reading is not an exact science. There are times Melanie and I have both been wrong in our assessment. Therefore, your scientific approach may not work.”
Hitchcock stands and stares down at me. “I know you want to see the twins. Take it or leave it.”
I stand and offer him my hand to shake. “I’ll take it.”
“Thought you would.”
Without another word, he heads for the door.
Chapter Twenty-Five
I have one more item on my agenda this morning. The mystery pills I snagged from Ziggy. I need Billy to identify them before I go ballistic with my accusations. They may be harmless, though I sincerely doubt it.
Billy picks up on the first ring. “Hey, Minnie, what can I do for you?”
I ignore the underlying message in his response. “Working today?”
“Not ’til later. I’m home. Why?”
I explain my dilemma.
“Want me to come over?”
“I’ll stop by your place if that’s okay.”
“I’ll be here.”
I have a valid reason for going to Billy’s house, and it has nothing to do with the pills in my pocket. The last time I darkened his door, I got the shock of my young life. Billy had a houseguest, an extremely sexy houseguest. At the time, he was suffering with the residual effects of PTSD.
According to Kendra, he was having a crisis of faith and felt he wasn’t good enough for me. Therefore, he undermined our relationship by screwing around with a cop colleague. The affair didn’t last and, since then, Billy has immersed himself in counseling with other veterans who suffer from the same disorder. Kendra tells me he’s now the poster boy for successful rehabilitation. But then, she’s his sister and loves him dearly.
Still, as I pull into Billy’s driveway, I feel the breath hitch in my lungs. Unlike the day my heart shattered into a bajillion pieces, the drapes are pulled back and Billy is standing in the window, looking out. I take a deep breath and exit the car.
Before I hit the porch, the door flies open.
Billy beams at me. “Welcome. I have coffee and doughnuts.”
Oh, yeah, Billy knows what floats my boat. The maple bar I ingested at CyberSecure is history. I’ll run an extra mile before I go to work.
I check the place out as I follow Billy into the kitchen. It’s tidy, yet homey. He even has a sprawling ivy plant perched on the windowsill above the sink.
I point at the plant. “Didn’t know you were so domestic.”
“It’s not like we spent much time here before…” his voice trails off.
He pours the coffee and sets a plate of pastries on the table.
A flush warms my cheeks. “You’re right. We spent most of our time in Number Ten.”
“Screwing our brains out,” he finishes.
We make eye contact and both burst out laughing.
He says, “Like they say, hindsight is twenty-twenty. Looking back on our relationship, it was sort of one-dimensional?”
“Sort of?”
“Okay, totally one-dimensional.”
We sip coffee and let the silence build. It’s an easy silence, unlike the nerve-wracking, tension-filled moments I felt with Hitchcock.
Billy leans across the table and takes my hand. “I’d like to make up for my lack of, um, wooing.”
Wooing. The word evokes images of women carrying parasols, strolling through manicured gardens. I visualize them in elaborate dresses and a multitude of petticoats beneath which lurks a whalebone corset that won’t allow them to take a full breath. Men in top hats and tails trail behind, discussing the merits of horseflesh.
I try to hold back a snicker, but fail. “What would this wooing entail? Buggy rides? Games of whist? Drinking tea in the parlor?”
He doesn’t appreciate my humor. His eyes narrow. “I’m totally serious, Minnie. I have a plan. All you have to do it give me the green light.”
I pull my hand away. “The light’s still red, but, at some point, it could change to amber. So don’t give up.”
“Fair enough,” he says. “Now, show me the pills.”
I hand him the baggy. He pours them on the table, picks up one and examines it carefully. “Ziggy had these?”
“They fell out of her backpack.”
He shakes his head. “I’m ninety percent sure they’re fentanyl, but I’ll have the lab people check them out. Bad stuff.”
“How bad?”
“Way more potent than heroin. Street names are China Girl, Apache, Goodfella, among others. Lots of people are hooked on it. You say she got it from Moen?”
“No proof, but she was with him when I picked her up.”
“Damn! Nick needs to lock the girl up.”
“Teenage girls are tricky, Billy. I know ’cause I used to be one.”
He reaches over and pats my cheek. “You may not be a teenage girl, but you’re still tricky.”
I down my coffee and rise. “Gotta run.”
Billy picks up a sugar donut, wraps it in a napkin and hands it to me. “I’ll call you.”
When he calls later, I can’t answer, because I’m heading for the Corral carrying a tray loaded with five sixteen-ounce beer mugs filled to the brim. Along with the pounders, I’m toting a huge plate of nachos, oozing with melted cheese and jalapeños. The potential for disaster looms large and keeps me from fishing the phone from my apron pocket.
Later, when I check my voicemail, Billy’s message is brief. “It’s fentanyl. Prescription grade, not the street stuff.”
I’m through tiptoeing around the issue. Nick needs to act like a dad and stop putting the responsibility on me. Ziggy is avoiding me like the plague tonight, taking care to put a large sphere of distance between us. Like she thinks that will help.
Nick’s behind the bar mixing drinks. I wait until he’s caught up and beckon him away from the drinkers perched on bar stools. “I have something to tell you. You’re not going to like it.” I fill him in on the pills, making sure he knows Billy has checked them out.
His face loses color. He sweeps a hand through his hair and swears. “Aw, shit, Mel. Fentanyl is bad stuff. You know for sure she got them from this older guy?”
“She says no, but Billy thinks Moen is getting young girls hooked on drugs and turning them out.”
“You mean…”
“Yeah, hooking.”
He swears under his breath and mutters, “What the hell am I going to do with her?”
I repeat Billy’s advice about locking her up and add, “Look, I know that’s not possible. She has to go to school. I was hoping the job at the Rockin’ R would keep her out of trouble.”
While we’re pondering the problem, the girl in question appears from the kitchen, carrying an empty tray. She sees me with Nick. In order to keep her distance, she takes a circuitous route to the table she needs to bus. Ziggy badly needs lessons on how not to act guilty
Finally, Nick says, “I’ll go talk to her. You take over the bar. I’ll tell Helen to take your tables.”
When she sees her dad approaching, Ziggy looks ready to run. Nick corners her, claps a hand on the back of her neck and marches her into the kitchen.
He returns twenty minutes later. No sign of Ziggy.
“How did it go?”
“Not well. She claims you set her up, that the pills don’t belong to her.”
I shake my head sadly. “She’s a pretty convincing liar.”
“She also said she’d stay away from Moen.”
I think for a moment and then, ignoring my vow to butt out, I say, “Maybe we can double team her.”
“How?”
“Perhaps it’s time for Uncle Paco to have a chat with Paul Moen.”
With a grim smile, Nick says, “I like it.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Paco is happy to comply. He squeezes into Buttercup’s passenger seat, bitching about the inconvenience of my ride. Apparently Aida needed their car today, and the only other option
is the Harley. He tries to fasten the seatbelt around his bulky frame. It’s not long enough, so we have to endure the dinging sound for a couple of blocks. “Shoulda taken the bike,” he grumbles.
“What? And forego the pleasant conversation we’re having?”
“Yeah, yeah.”
I suspect I know the reason but ask anyway. “Why so grumpy?”
He pounds an enormous fist on the dashboard. A crack emerges and slithers across the entire dashboard like a meandering stream. “Oops,” he says. “Not sure it’s fixable.” He peers over the seatback and spots the towel I use to wipe up condensation, since Buttercup’s internal ventilation is iffy. He spreads it out and covers the crack, muttering, “Sorry, little girl.”
I pat his arm. “It’s okay. What’s bothering you?’
“Remember Aida, the sweet girl from Kazakhstan I married last fall?”
I glance over at him, pressing my lips together to hold back a smile.
He sighs and rolls his eyes. “She’s gone. It’s like an alien took over her body.”
“An alien has taken over her body. She’s pregnant, Unc. Kendra says she’ll feel better in a few months.”
He shakes a sausage-sized finger at me. “Are you forgetting I was with her when she was pregnant with Larissa?” He doesn’t wait for my answer. “Back then, she was nice. Now, she’s mad at me all the time. She’s just plain mean.”
“Aida said this pregnancy is different because the baby is a boy.”
“Yeah, I know, and she blames me.”
“Well, you are the guy who knocked her up.”
“Hey, she wanted to be knocked up. Can I help it if I’m such a stud I put a baby boy seed in her?”
The image of a tiny, anatomically correct baby boy sprouting from a seed tickles my funny bone. I’m laughing so hard I have to pull over to the curb.
Paco scowls at me. “Not funny.”
“Actually, it is.” I slug him in the arm. “Seriously, she needs you right now. She can’t help it if she doesn’t feel good, so chill. Think about the splendiferous result. Paco Junior.”
This gets a weak smile. “Yeah, you’re right. I’ll give her a back rub tonight.”
I shake a finger at him. “Just a back rub. Don’t expect a little something in return. Got it?”
Hope and Honor Page 13
