Unlovable

by Sherry Gammon

  Booker stepped toward us, following my stare. He reached up and knocked the ceiling tile up. Several plastic bags containing off-white powder showered down on us.

  Drugs!

  “NOOOO!” I screamed. At the exact same moment, I felt a prick in my left hip. Cole was injecting me with something. The room really began spinning then, and my head dropped against Seth’s shoulder. Within moments, all the pain stopped.

  34

  Seth

  She’s going to be asleep for some time, Seth. I’ll take her back to your place and stay with her while you and Booker go talk to Hoffman.” Nodding, I scooped her up in my arms and carried her to the car after watching Cole bandage her hands, thankful that the cuts were minor and would heal quickly. What was damaged on the inside wouldn’t. She felt so small and fragile in my arms I didn’t want to put her down.

  However, I had a job to do, and interrogating Hoffman was something I was looking forward to doing personally. Booker called in the team, even bringing in drug dogs, and the entire trailer was searched again, but nothing more was found. They were able to lift three very clear sets of fingerprints off the heroin bags, and Booker ran them through the computer immediately. One set belonged to Hoffman, he was arrested as soon as the results came in. Another set matched the ones we’d gotten off Bill Dreser during his autopsy, but not surprising, no criminal record turned up.

  The last set came up blank in the database. Booker suspected Harry Dreser had used his powerful connections to have his two sons’ prints eradicated from all records, not unlike what he had done for their older brother Jeffery. Even Alan’s prints from his stint in jail had mysteriously vanished from the system.

  Barbara Brown’s fingerprints were not on the bags, or on any of the ceiling tiles. It gave me hope that just maybe she wasn’t involved.

  Maggie stirred as I lay her across the backseat. She was still restless, despite the heavy dose of narcotics Cole had given her. I kissed her head. “I love you, Mags,” I said, squeezing my eyes tight.

  “Once she gets a good night’s sleep, maybe two, she’ll be good as new. She’s suffering from major sleep deprivation,” Cole assured me. I said nothing, but stood in the middle of the road and watched as he drove away.

  “Come on, Hoffman’s waiting in the interrogation room, let’s go see what the weasel has to say,” Booker said, patting my back. I didn’t move. My eyes followed the taillights as they disappeared down the street.

  “Cole’s the best, she’s in good hands,” he said softly.

  My anguish quickly turned to anger, setting my temper in full swing by the time we arrived at the precinct. I shoved the door of the interrogation room so hard, it flung open and hit the wall before it vibrated back at me. I grabbed it and slammed it shut. Hoffman jumped nervously.

  The room was stark and bare, with the exception of three metal chairs and a small beat-up wooden table. Along one wall was a two-way mirror, with at least three agents on the other side watching.

  “You’re looking at twenty years,” I barked at him. “I’m going to recommend to the DA that you get the maximum. I want your last dying breath to be from the stench of a six by eight foot jail cell. I’m going to hang you out to dry, you understand me?” I reached for him, fully intending on dragging him to his feet and tossing him against the wall. For starters.

  “Whoa, Seth. Police brutality, however well justified, will only help get this guy off with a slap on the wrist, something we definitely don’t want happening.” Booker forced me down onto a chair, positioning the scarred table between Hoffman and us. Hoffman tipped his steel chair back and propped his dirty shoes up on the table's edge. He laced his fingers behind his head and ran a smug expression across his face.

  Booker laughed. “Now, now Hoffman. I didn’t mean for you to get comfortable either.” He slapped Hoffman’s feet to the floor, it pivoted him upright with the force.

  “So, tell me, where did you get the drugs?” Booker asked, now propping his feet up onto the desk.

  “What drugs?” he asked, stupidly.

  “Your prints are all over the stuff,” I said, leaning across the desk. “Yours and two others. One set matched a dead guy, needless to say, he can’t be prosecuted. The other set came up blank, which means you and you alone are going to hang for this. Are you willing to rot for your buddy?”

  His eyes widened in fright. “I don’t know any Dreser.” The guy was a complete idiot, I wanted to arrest him for that alone.

  “I don’t believe we said his name was Dreser,” Booker pointed out. “Okay, I’m tired, let’s put all our cards on the table here. You tell us how Barbara Brown was involved with this, and tell us where Dreser is, and we’ll talk to the DA about going easy on you. You’ll serve seven years, maybe five with good behavior.”

  He sat soberly for a moment. “For a lousy deal like that, I’ll only give you the scoop on Barbara. You’ll have to do better if you want info on Dreser.” He looked at Booker waiting for an answer.

  “Let’s hear what you got on Barbara first, and then I’ll decide,” Booker said, pulling out a notebook and pen from his left breast pocket.

  “Barbara was a drunk,” he laughed. “A worthless drunk, and she treated that kid of hers like dirt.” He leaned forward. “Man alive, is her kid ever hot! With that sweet little face and those perky–”

  I was across the desk and had the slimy fink-rat pinned against the wall before Booker could stop me. Two agents bust into the room and pulled me off him.

  Booker hauled me out of the room. “I don’t want you in there. Go home, be with Maggie. You’re of no use to me like this.”

  “No, I’m okay, sorry, I have it in control now, I swear.” I took a deep breath, forcing myself to calm down.

  Booker shook his head and threw an arm around my shoulder. “Go home and that’s an order.” In his best Marlon Brando voice he added, “I’m gonna make him an offer he can’t refuse.” I smiled, slightly, for the first time in days. “Trust me on this.”

  He was right. I was going to blow the whole case and needed to leave. We’d spent months trying to end this, and I didn’t want to be the one to muck up the first big lead we had. I grabbed my jacket, jumped in my car, and headed home. Home to Maggie.

  ***

  “How much longer is she going to sleep?” I slammed my mug of hot chocolate down on the slate counter, shattering the cup into pieces and spilling the steamy liquid everywhere.

  Cole mopped up the mess while Booker fixed me a fresh cup.

  “I just checked on her. She’s stirring around some, I don’t think it will be too much longer,” Cole said calmly. He said everything calmly, I was beginning to wonder if anything ever got to him.

  “It’s been almost 30 hours,” I pointed out unnecessarily.

  “She’s exhausted and she needs sleep, lots of sleep,” he reiterated again, in the same calm voice. It was getting on my nerves.

  “She’s going to need counseling,” Cole said softly. “She was quite co-dependent on her mother.” I shot up in my seat. “She’ll be fine, she’s one tough kid. Al-anon has a great program that I think will help her. It will probably be best if you both go so you can watch for signs of her becoming co-dependent with you. That’s what we need to be worry about at this point.”

  Booker set a green mug in front of me and plopped down on a stool to my right. “I’m glad we can finally clear her mother, I think it will help.”

  In Booker’s words, Hoffman sang like an American Idol hopeful. He’d been using Maggie’s house as a storage unit. He’d bring over a bottle of vodka, which he made her pay for, get her mother plastered to the point where she’d pass out, then he’d hide the stuff up in the ceiling of her closet. When he needed to make a delivery, he’d repeat the process taking what he needed and leaving the rest neatly hidden. Because of his long police record, he didn’t want the drugs at his house in case the cops caught on to the fact that he’d moved from marijuana to heroin. He had a slick little operation goi
ng, until now.

  A scream emanating from upstairs tore all thoughts of Hoffman and Dreser from my head. It was Maggie. I was up the stairs before I drew in my next breath. I shoved the door open and found her in the middle of the bed, staring down at her hands.

  “I’m a complete loon, a total complete loon!”

  “You’re not a loon, Maggie, you’d been functioning on overdrive and it caught up with you.” I stroked her hair in an effort to calm her.

  “I wasn’t trying to off myself, I swear. I didn’t even feel the glass cutting me, because if I did, I can guarantee you I would’ve stopped.” I could tell she was trying to keep her voice from sounding frantic.

  “I’m sorry, Seth, you didn’t deserve that on top of everything else.” She hung her head, completely humiliated. “All of you didn’t deserve this. I’m very sorry.”

  Cole sat down next to her. “Maggie, you were trying to function on only a few hours of sleep. The mind breaks down and doesn’t perform properly. Add to it everything you’ve been through lately, I should have insisted you let me give you something for sleep.” He rubbed her shoulders.

  “How many stitches?” she asked softly, tugging on a loose string from the gauze.

  “None. The cuts were superficial. You’re quite the bleeder, though. I had to rewrap your hands several times,” he assured her. “And, Maggie, I hope you realize that Seth isn’t the only one who loves you. I dare say everyone in this house loves you.” He kissed her forehead gently.

  “Oh, and the headache I’m betting you have is my fault.” His smile was plaited with guilt. “It’s a side effect from the drug cocktail I gave you the other night to help you sleep. It’s commonly referred to as a narcotic headache.”

  “The other night? Don’t you mean earlier this evening?” she asked, unsure. “What time is it?”

  “It’s 1:30, in the morning. You—you’ve been asleep for over 30 hours,” Cole said carefully.

  “You kept me sedated for 30 hours?”

  “No, I only gave you two injections. One the first night, and one the next morning because you were still thrashing about and crying out in your sleep. Your body kept you asleep the rest of the time.” She dropped her beet-red face back into her bandaged hands, even her ears were red. “Don’t worry, the headache should be gone by tomorrow,” Cole assured her.

  “Thank you,” she said through my fingers.

  She still looked fragile. I wished we knew the whereabouts of Alan, I wanted this entire mess behind us. I wanted Maggie to be able to move on with her life.

  Gathering my blue robe around her shoulders, I helped her off the bed. “Come, I’ll make you something to eat and get you some aspirin, but first, I need to hold you.” She sank readily into my arms.

  35

  Maggie

  “So what exactly was in the plastic bags?” I tugged nervously at the sash on Seth’s robe, not wanting to hear the answer.

  “Heroin, mostly.” I hung my head as Booker continued. “We dusted the bags for fingerprints and the closet ceiling as well. Your mother’s prints weren’t on any of it.”

  “Really?” The news seemed to soften the blow of her death somewhat.

  “Really. We did find Hoffman’s though, along with those we assume are the Dreser’s. We arrested Hoffman, and he spilled his guts.” Booker flashed me his signature grin. “He said he would feed your mother vodka until she passed out, then stuff the drugs in her closet. She didn’t know anything about it. He used your home to hide it so if he was ever busted, there were no drugs at his place to implicate him in the heroin ring.”

  “He claimed he had no idea where Dreser was,” Seth said. “He offered to try and find out for us if we gave him complete immunity.”

  “Did you say yes?”

  “Not complete immunity. Three to five years if he’ll turn state’s evidence against Dreser. Of course, once he’s in prison, he’ll be dead within six months for testifying against a smuggler’s son. Thieves don’t take well to rat-finks.” Seth shrugged casually.

  My mom wasn’t involved! I felt as if a huge weight had been lifted off my chest. In my excitement, I took the last steps rather quickly and sent pain rippling through my head. “Okay. Killer headache!”

  “I’ll make you some toast,” Seth said after I sat down at the table. Booker and Cole sat down next to me. They stared at me is if I were about to explode, and if they looked away they’d miss it.

  Seth set the toast, milk and two aspirin down in front of me, along with a napkin. “Thanks.” I took the aspirin and ate the toast while Seth cooked up some scrambled eggs.

  “Ah, seen any good movies lately?” I asked, finishing the milk, their stares were unnerving. Seth was the only one to laugh. He set a huge plate of eggs down on the table and pulled up a chair alongside me.

  “How’s the headache?”

  “Still alive and kicking.” I inhaled the entire plate of eggs within minutes. Seth poured me a second glass of milk, which I drained too.

  “Wow, guess I was pretty hungry. You’d think I hadn’t eaten in a week, or 30 hours anyway.” I and I alone laughed. With my slightly shaky hand, I wiped the milk moustache off my face with the napkin.

  “I’m okay, guys, really I am. You can stop worrying,” I said softly.

  Cole scooted closer and took my hand. “I’m sorry for staring at you, professional habit.” He squeezed gently. “I have to get going, I’m taking over for Dr. Taylor in an hour.” I thanked him again as he and Seth walked out the door.

  “Aren’t you going to thank me, Magpie?” Booker asked, sitting down in the chair vacated by Cole. “After all, I was the one who moused up from behind and tackled you to the ground.”

  We both laughed at his little cat reference. “Thanks, Book.” I thought to tell him I was going to give the glass chards to Cole right before he tackled me, but decided I didn’t really want to talk about the embarrassing incident ever again.

  I peered up into his eyes. They were still heavy with sorrow despite the smile on his mouth. I placed my hand on his. “How are you doing?”

  “About as good as you are.”

  “I’ll bet you didn’t go mental on everyone.”

  “No, I didn’t do that,” he laughed again, “and I’ll second what Cole said upstairs. Please don’t doubt how much you’re loved. I love your spirit, and I love your inner-strength, notwithstanding the other night, you’re one strong young woman. I’m also grateful for the way you love Seth. He’s like a brother to me, I’m glad he has you.” He ran a hand over my hair and flipped it everywhere, causing my head to throb again. “I guess that makes me your big brother.”

  “My very annoying big brother.”

  He took my hands carefully in his. “You and me, we’re going to get through this. If you need anything, please call.” He stood up and pulled me into his arms hugging me tight. “I love you, Magpie.”

  “I love you too, Book.” I held his arm as he pulled away. “Will you promise me something?”

  “Anything,” he said without hesitation.

  “Promise me you’ll protect Seth. Promise me you’ll do whatever it takes, short of dying yourself, to keep him alive. Please?”

  “There’s no need to make such a promise,” he scoffed. “He’s more than capable of taking care of himself. I do promise to do all I can to keep you alive though.”

  “Promise me if you have to choose between saving his life over mine, you’ll protect him first.” He wouldn’t answer. “You of all people can understand why I’m asking this.”

  “You need protection, not Seth,” he reiterated.

  “Please,” I begged once. He pulled me back into his arms and held me tight for several seconds. He dropped his mouth to my ear and said softly, “I promise.” When he pulled away, I caught him wiping his cheek.

  I held up my little finger. “Pinky swear?”

  He rolled his eyes. “Don’t you think I’m a little too old for a pinky swear?”

  “You are never
too old for a pinky swear.” I wiggled my little finger, and he grudgingly wrapped his around mine. “Remember this is eternally binding, there’s no backing out on a pinky swear.”

  “I never back out on a promise, or a pinky swear,” he said, trying not to laugh. Seth walked in as we dropped our hands.

  “I have to go also,” Booker said, walking to the door, “Hoffman gave us an address for Dreser half an hour ago, and the chief issued a search warrant for the place. I’m thinking a three A.M. wakeup call’s in order.” He smiled. “Glad you’re doing better, Magpie.” He waved his little finger as he left.

  “What’s the little finger wave all about?” Seth asked, encircling me in his arms.

  “I love you with all my heart and soul,” I said, ignoring his question. He drew me up tight and kissed me. My pounding head pounded a bit harder, I didn’t mind.

  “I love you and always will,” he vowed.

  “I’m sorry about what I put you through the past few days, you deserve better.” A yawn escaped my lips. How in the world can I possibly be tired after sleeping for 30 hours?

  “Bedtime.” He took my hand and led me up the stairs. I climbed into bed, and as he tucked the blankets around me, I pulled his mouth to mine for a long tender kiss good night.

  I didn’t wake until noon the next day, and just as Cole promised, my narcotic headache was gone. I took a quick shower and brushed my teeth, it felt good to be clean again. Seth was finishing some homework at the kitchen table when I came down.

  “Good morning,” he said, pulling me onto his lap.

  “Good afternoon,” I corrected him.

  “I have to head over to the police station to take care of some paperwork, I’ll only be gone a few hours. Cole is on his way over to stay with you. How’s your headache?”