Skeletons in the Mist (The McCall Twins)

by Jennifer Hayden

  “One of them tried to bite your brother? Good grief, why?”

  “Apparently Dylan didn’t want to take a ride in the police cruiser. I don’t know why, seeing as how he’s been there often enough.”

  She shut her eyes, tension threatening to pound on her skull in a furious rhythm. “Is this your way of telling me Dylan’s been in trouble before?”

  “Several times. And Devon’s no stranger to the department either. As recently as last month he was brought in for peeping in the windows of one of his female classmates—who also, incidentally, happens to be the mayor’s seventeen-year-old daughter.”

  Roxy’s faith took another dive and she rubbed her temples. That explained the colder than cold greeting she’d received from Mayor Dewitt. “What about Dylan? What’s he done?” She was almost afraid to hear the answer.

  “Mostly mischievous behavior. Smoking pot, vandalism.”

  “He’s twelve.”

  “Tell me something I don’t know, Ms. Tavish.”

  “I thought my aunt had them under control. I thought everything was okay.” She shook her head in dismay. “I had no idea.”

  “How could you? This kind of thing isn’t easily discussed in the annual Christmas card.”

  The dig hit its mark and she flinched.

  “I’m sorry,” he relented. “That was out of line. We should stick to the facts here—”

  “No, don’t bother,” she interrupted, glaring at him. “I’m guessing you know all about me. I’m sure my father left quite a legacy around here.”

  He just stared at her silently.

  “Don’t judge me, Detective. You know nothing about my relationship with my father—not the real story anyway.”

  “No, I don’t. I do know that Devon is in serious trouble. He’s belligerent and violent at times. He’s refusing to eat and refusing to talk.”

  “He’ll talk to me.”

  “What makes you think so?” he asked, a rather sardonic smirk on his face. “Because you’re so close after all these years?”

  “Because I’m his sister,” she snapped, hating her own self-doubt. She’d never been able to help herself, let alone anyone else. But she wasn’t about to let this sanctimonious creep know that. She cleared her throat, struggling to retain her dignity. “I want to help him, Detective McCall. At one time, Devon and I were close.”

  “We all want to help him, Ms. Tavish.” He stacked the file folder back on top of the mess on his desk and folded his arms over his chest. “And you knew him as a child. He’s not a child anymore. He’s nearly a man.”

  “He’s not a man. He’s a boy.”

  “Regardless, he’s being charged with a man’s crime. You may as well accept that now and get over this vision you have of a cute, four-year-old baby. You’ll be rudely awakened if you don’t.”

  They stared at each other, facing off for several tense seconds. Then he sighed and held his hands up in mock surrender. “Look, I’m sorry if I’ve made you angry. You asked for frank, and I’m being frank. Your brother, in my opinion, is a messed up delinquent. He’s been in trouble before, and it’s likely that even if he didn’t do this and he gets off, he’ll be in trouble again. He’s had a rough upbringing. That can mess up a kid.”

  Boy did she ever know that. Feeling somewhat hopeless, she leaned back in the chair and rubbed a hand over her face. “My stepmother was harsh with the boys. She was harsh with all of us. And then she was gone.”

  He shrugged his shoulders. “She didn’t die on purpose.”

  She let out a sad chuckle. “No, I guess that’s true enough.”

  His harsh expression softened and he leaned forward and looked at her closely. “Look, for the record, I know your real story. I have vague memories of what happened to you as a kid. I was young, but I remember some things. And what I don’t remember, I looked up. I know you used to have a twin yourself, and a mother. I know about what happened to them. Believe me, you have my sympathy.”

  “I don’t want your sympathy, Detective,” she snapped irritably. “It will help neither my brothers nor myself. What I need to know now, is what will.”

  He shrugged his shoulders deliberately. “A damned good attorney. Right now Devon’s looking at public assistance.”

  He couldn’t have hit her harder if he’d used a two by four. Money was something she definitely didn’t have, and a good attorney was going to cost a lot of it. “And after that?” she made herself ask.

  “We need to get the boys to tell the truth. If Devon did kill Myra, the truth could be very ugly, Ms. Tavish. It may not be something you can handle.”

  “There’s always the chance that he didn’t.”

  He looked skeptical, but gave her the benefit of the doubt. “There is that chance. And there’s always the chance that Dylan did it and Devon is covering for him.”

  She’d thought of that herself, but only fleetingly. She just wasn’t ready to admit that either of her brothers was capable of murder.

  “Okay, this is the deal,” he began again. “We have Devon in juvenile custody right now in the city. Dylan is with Social Services. Dylan’s situation will change as soon as you want it to. Devon’s is a lot more complicated than that.”

  “What do you mean, Dylan’s will change as soon as I want it to?”

  “I mean, your aunt left custody of him to her next of kin—to his next of kin. That, Roxy Tavish, is you.”

  FOUR

  Chas watched the woman’s face drain of color. She stared at him blankly, and for a moment he was afraid she was going to faint. “I mentioned this on the phone,” he reminded her quietly. He was beginning to regret the harsh way he’d been dealing with her.

  Roxy Tavish was attractive, in a plain sort of way. She didn’t wear a lot of make-up. Her face was slightly rounded and her blue eyes were drawn just far enough apart to be perfect. Her tiny nose was upturned slightly, and more than a little endearing. She was what he would describe more classically cute, rather than pretty. It was likely the mop of blonde curls that caused the word cute to fill his head. Or maybe it was the fact that she was a rather tiny woman. He’d bet her height wasn’t much over five feet. All the same, he doubted from the tough as nails persona she was struggling to give off, that she would be pleased with his opinion of her.

  “You didn’t use those words,” she said, interrupting his thoughts. That nose that he had been admiring just moments earlier was now looking down at him, which was funny considering he had a good foot on her if he had an inch.

  “I’m in no financial shape to support a child,” she added. “Are you telling me that I’m his guardian now? Permanently ?” Her eyes were wide with shock mostly, but also with what Chas identified as fear.

  “That’s the way it stands at this point. Of course you have the option of refusing your aunt’s request. I’m only letting you know what the situation is because right now your brother’s a ward of the state.”

  She winced, and again, he wished he hadn’t been so harsh with her.

  “Look, we have some options here. None of them involve doing anything about his situation tonight. It’s after five and Social Services is closed anyway. What I suggest is that you find a place to stay and think your options over.”

  “I don’t have any options, Detective McCall,” she retorted, obviously frustrated. Her blue eyes narrowed in annoyance. “And on top of that, I have no place to stay.”

  He raised a brow. “You came here. You must have had something planned as far as a place to stay.”

  She shifted uncomfortably, but didn’t answer.

  “There’s a motel on the far side of town. You can get a room there. It’s within walking distance so you can get here in the morning and we can drive to the city to see your brothers. You’ll need to decide whether or not to accept public assistance.”

  “As opposed to what?” she asked.

  “As opposed to hiring someone yourself. That’s the smart thing to do. The boy needs a damned good attorney.”
<
br />   “Are you saying your elected personnel are insufficient?”

  He almost laughed, but caught himself. She had him there. “No,” he finally said, clearing his throat. “I’m saying that you’d be smart to consider all of your options. A public defender is a public defender.”

  “I can’t get my hands on the funds to hire a hot shot attorney, Detective McCall. If I was able to, I would have brought him or her with me now.” She straightened her back and stared at him intently. “But make no mistake, I will see that my brother is represented by someone who has his best interests at heart.”

  “Fair enough. So do you want me to call the motel and arrange for a room?”

  “I can arrange for my own room, thank you.” She stood abruptly and he could see she was angry. He supposed he had come across as a little pompous.

  “I was only trying to help.” He stood and reached for one of his business cards. “My numbers are on here. If I don’t hear from you, I’ll expect you to meet me here tomorrow at eight AM.”

  She took the card and shoved it into her bag. “I’ll be here. I would appreciate it if you could have this public defender person here too. I’d like to hear what he has to say.”

  “I can set up a meeting with him.” He watched as she hoisted her bag onto her shoulder and pivoted toward the opening to his cubicle. For such a little thing, she had a lot of spunk. And he had to give her credit for reacting to such a bad situation with so much dignity. He’d figured her to be a disaster when he’d remembered who she was. The hell she’d gone through as a child gave her the right to be.

  But she wasn’t, he decided, and grinned. Roxy Tavish just may be exactly the miracle that Devon and Dylan Tavish needed. And that miracle had arrived none too soon.

  Not five feet from the door to the police station, Roxy nearly had a complete meltdown. She’d put on such a show inside those double doors that it had nearly drained her of her last bit of energy. And sadly enough, her situation had only worsened. Now, not only did she have nothing to speak of for herself, but she had the responsibility of her brothers and their welfare too.

  Knowing that Aunt Myra had had no choice but to leave the boys in her care eased Roxy’s anxiety only mildly. She was no parent and no role model. She’d spent years running from authority and responsibility. She’d spent years isolating herself from family and friends and attachments. And now she had two boys, who were obviously struggling with many of those same things, to handle. The blind leading the blind, she figured, and took a deep breath. Panicking wasn’t going to help this situation. She’d let her sister down once—let her mother down. Hell, she’d let her father and her aunt down too. She wasn’t about to make that mistake with her brothers. Even if it killed her.

  “The motel’s that way,” a voice said from behind her, and she almost jumped out of her skin. She whirled around and nearly ran into the egotistical creep who had started all of her troubles, a mere three days earlier when he’d called her at work and informed her that her aunt had died. Good looking or not, she had the urge to take her frustrations out on him.

  “Don’t sneak up on me like that!”

  He looked amused, his blue eyes twinkling just a little as he let out a chuckle. “You’re on a public street corner, in front of the police station, Ms. Tavish. It’s a little hard for me to sneak.”

  “You snuck,” she insisted, then, realizing how ridiculous she sounded, she let out a sigh and turned around.

  “You need a ride?”

  She thought about ignoring him, but decided that her first impression personality of him was not that of a guy who would give up and go away. “I thought you said the motel is down the street.”

  “I did.”

  “Then I think I can manage to walk that far, thanks.”

  He was quiet a moment, then stepped around to stand in front of her. “You’re angry with me. I shouldn’t have been so forthright with you. You’re the one who didn’t want sugar-coating.”

  “Forget it,” she grumbled, irritated with her entire situation. She just wanted him to disappear and leave her alone.

  No such luck. He stuck his hands into the pockets of his slacks and studied her a moment. “You don’t have any money to stay in the motel, do you?”

  She felt the heat in her face and refused to look up at him. “I do. I just can’t beam myself there,” she lied. “I was making a phone call.”

  “Uh huh. So I’ll walk you to the motel. It’s getting dark. I’d feel better if I knew you were inside safely.”

  “I don’t need you to see me inside safely,” she finally snapped, meeting his gaze. “I can get myself to the motel, okay? I’m twenty-six years old. I’ve been on my own since I was sixteen. I don’t need your help, or anyone else’s.” She turned to stomp away—and promptly stepped off the curb and nearly fell into the gutter. Had he not reached out to steady her, she would have fallen flat on her face. She wanted to hit him. Instead, she jerked her arm free and for the millionth time that day, struggled to regain her dignity.

  “You know a guy named Myles Overby?”

  “So what if I do? Is he on the ten most wanted list?”

  He laughed at that. “Not yet, though I admit with the way your week is going he might turn up there in the near future.” He continued to smile at her halfway. “He called me. He wanted to know what the hell I was doing messing with you and how I knew you. He also tried to report you missing. When I told him you weren’t missing, he informed me that you lost your job, your car, and your apartment all in the same week.”

  Defeat sank in again and she frowned. “I still have my apartment.”

  He folded his arms over his chest. “Not since your rent check bounced this morning. Your things are en route to Mr. Overby’s as we speak.”

  She cursed and made a mental note to strangle Myles. That was what having a friend got you. Loose lips and trouble with a capital T.

  “Look, you may as well let me help you. I’m not about to let you sleep on the street tonight.”

  “Jeeze, give me a break. I’ve gone through this kind of thing before. This is none of your business and I don’t take handouts,” she said matter-of-factly.

  “Maybe not. I’m not the type of guy to turn his back on a person in need though. I have a place you can stay. My truck’s over there.” He indicated a large black truck parked illegally several feet away.

  “I’m not a person in need.” She said the words quietly, most of her gumption dissipated now that she knew her apartment was gone too.

  “Well I am. This isn’t really a hand-out. I have a seventeen-year-old sister staying home alone right now. My brothers and I have been taking turns staying with her while my parents visit a sick relative in Iowa. It’s become a huge pain in the ass. Trace and I are busy as hell and Josh is working the night shift. My other two brothers do odd-hour rotations, one at the firehouse and one at the hospital. You’d be doing me a favor if you’d stay at the house and keep an eye on her tonight.”

  She looked at him as though he’d grown two heads on his shoulders. “You don’t know me.”

  “I remember you, Roxy. I’m six years older than you are so we didn’t exactly run in the same circles as kids. My brother, Brody, went to school with you. You gave him a black eye in kindergarten. He called your sister some name—I can’t remember what—and you punched him.”

  Unwanted memories flooded her head. She remembered the incident vaguely. She just hadn’t connected Brody McCall’s name with his brothers. And why would she? They were all much older and hadn’t been around her much. Not only that, it had been a long, long time since she’d thought of Brody or his family.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring up bad memories.”

  She didn’t answer. Instead, she looked out at the darkening street. He was right, night was definitely moving in. And the more she thought about things, the more she decided she didn’t want to sleep in a gutter any more than he wanted her to. “Your sister won’t want a stranger in the
house. I doubt your parents would like it either.”

  “My parents knew your folks. Not only that, Dylan’s mowed their lawn before. You aren’t a stranger.” He held a hand out for her bag. “Now are you done arguing so we can get going? I’ve got to pull an all-nighter tonight.”

  Ten minutes later, she almost wished she had just slept in a gutter.

  “She’s a complete stranger!”

  Roxy cringed as she listened to the high-pitched shriek Luci McCall let out the minute her brother introduced her to her new house guest.

  As attractive as the other McCall children, Luci was their exact opposite in coloring. Tiny, nearly as short as Roxy, and brunette with dark eyes, Luci was stunning. She had the kind of skin that most women would kill for. It was like porcelain. She reminded Roxy of a doll she’d once had as a child.

  “No, she’s Dylan’s sister,” she could hear Chas say, as he walked around the kitchen and dining room checking the windows, Roxy assumed, to make sure they were all secure. Then he went to work checking the doors.

  The house was large and immaculate. It sat on a well-to-do street, only blocks from the house Roxy had lived in as a child. She was glad the drive over had been done in the dark. She wasn’t sure she was ready to face scenery this damning.

  The McCalls had good taste in decorating. The place was warm and welcoming, with plush pieces of furniture and country styled paintings and knickknacks. The house looked distinguished and lived in at the same time.

  “You’re a lunatic, Chase Adam McCall. I’m calling Mom!” Luci continued fuming, her pixy face red with anger.

  “Don’t bother. I already talked to her,” he said nonchalantly, and continued his perusal of the house. “You haven’t had that lousy boyfriend of yours here have you? I warned you about that creep.”

  “You are not my father, Chas! You can’t do this!” Luci went on arguing.

  Chas returned to the living room where Roxy waited. She gave him a knowing look and he gave her one back. It was clear this man was used to getting his way and didn’t care what anyone, including her or his bellowing sister, thought.