Under Currents

by Nora Roberts

  He’d grown up with a mother, a sister, had a wife, had lived with a girl he considered his own from her teenage years, so he knew something about what he thought of as female debris.

  Nothing, just nothing normal inside that house.

  And he hated, hated he’d had no power or authority to do anything about it. Until now.

  He walked to the McConnells’, found them both outside working their garden.

  With a hand pressed to his back, Sam straightened, nodded. “Chief.”

  “Got some fine-looking tomatoes going there, Sam.”

  “We do that, and plenty of them. We can give you some to take home.”

  Lee scratched his chin. “Believe it or not, we got talked into planting some of our own this year. Just a couple bushes, but they’re doing okay. Sure would appreciate having a few words with y’all.”

  “Figured you’d be by.” Mary Lou adjusted her glasses. “I made some lemonade fresh this morning. You come on, sit down in the shade.”

  “That’d be right nice.”

  “Kids are coming later on for a cookout before we all head to the lake to see the show,” Sam said as they walked.

  “Should be a good one.”

  While Mary Lou went in to get the lemonade, Lee sat with Sam on the porch, let out a sigh as he got off his feet.

  “I want to ask if you heard or saw anything from over Clint Draper’s place last night.”

  “Can’t say we did. We had the AC on, windows closed.” Sam let out a sigh of his own. “He hurt that little girl again, didn’t he?”

  “I can tell you she lit out early this morning, pretty beaten up. Don’t suppose you saw her go, or saw where Clint went?”

  “Wish I had. Never seen her drive, so I’m guessing she took off on foot. We’d have helped her if we’d seen her.”

  “I know you would.” As Mary Lou came out with a tray of glasses, Lee smiled. “That sure looks good, Mary Lou.”

  “She got away, honey,” Sam told her. “She left him this morning.”

  Mary Lou set the tray down with a rattle. “Thank the lord. We worried when we saw you and the officers that he’d killed her this time. But she’s all right?”

  “She will be. My information is Clint went off with his daddy, his brother early this morning. Hunting’s what I heard, fishing’s what Mrs. Draper the elder claims.”

  “Hunting’s more like, and we heard some shooting when we came outside.” After handing out the glasses, Mary Lou took a seat. “The Drapers don’t trouble themselves with hunting seasons, No Trespassing signs, or anything else. They do what they want and when they want.”

  “You wouldn’t happen to know where they favor going?”

  Now Sam shook his head. “I know they put up deer stands right on the property line, a few of them. And I’ll tell you the God’s truth, Chief, I wouldn’t go looking for them up in the woods, not when they’ve got guns and cover. You were to step foot on their land, they’d unload on you and call it just.”

  “Bea Draper would’ve told them you’ve been around. They got walkies,” Mary Lou added. “It was around nine, I guess—and after we heard the shooting—I saw her walk over next door, go right on in like she owned it. She didn’t walk out happy. I guess she saw Traci wasn’t there.”

  “She’d’ve been right on the horn letting the men know that,” Sam continued. “And then y’all showed up. She’d have let them know to keep low, at least until you’d cleared out.”

  “Well.” Lee drank some lemonade. “They’re not going to stay up there in the woods. We’ll do that clearing out, but we’ll keep an eye on the place. I’d appreciate it if you’d do the same, give me a call if you see any of them come back.”

  “Happy to.” Mary Lou patted her husband’s hand. “But we’d be grateful if you kept our names out of it. They’re vengeful people, Chief.”

  “There’s no problem with that. You just call me direct, you hear?”

  “You watch yourself,” Sam added. “They won’t take kindly if you lock up one of their blood.”

  “That’s just what I aim to do.”

  Lee assigned a rotation of officers—in pairs—to watch the Draper land. He’d take his own rotation next shift, but decided he needed to get back, let his family know the status.

  He found tables already covered with their colorful cloths, lights being strung, his sons hauling out more. And the little girl who called him Pap playing with the world’s ugliest dog.

  Audra wobbled to her feet, toddled over to him on those sweet, chubby legs, babbling and grinning with her arms already held out to him.

  He scooped her up, gave her a toss to make her squeal. Ugly dog raced off to leap on Molly, start a mock fight, while their own Rufus just snoozed in the shade.

  He smelled more lemonade and growing things, heard his wife’s delicious laugh bounding through the open kitchen doors.

  Normal, he thought. It was good, even for a little while, to come back to normal.

  Audra wiggled down, toddled over to Darby, who—more squeals—hauled the baby onto her shoulders before she continued with the lights.

  He went in, saw Emily checking potatoes on the boil for salad, and Zane struggling his way through peeling dozens of hard-boiled eggs.

  “They ought to make a tool that does this,” he complained.

  “They do. It’s called your hands.”

  Emily turned, and Lee saw the flicker of relief in her eyes as they met his. “And here’s two more hands,” she said brightly. “Where are Silas’s?”

  “I’ve got him and Ginny keeping an eye out for now. I’ll switch with them in a bit.”

  “All right, you have a seat there with Zane. Want an iced coffee?”

  “Babe, I’d’ve married you for your iced coffee alone. Anybody hear from Britt?”

  “She’s at the shelter with Traci and her mama,” Zane told him. “She’ll head back here soon. I take it the Drapers weren’t home.”

  “That’s right, but they’ll come around. The women have walkies, so they’ll know we’re waiting for them.”

  He went to the sink—he’d been schooled more than once—washed his hands before he sat and picked up an egg. “The women were ready for us, had their stories together. Mary Lou McConnell said Bea Draper went over to Clint’s place about nine this morning. She’d have seen Traci wasn’t there, so they were ready for us with a couple loads of bullshit.”

  He peeled an egg—he’d been schooled there, too—reached for another. “I tell you something right now, that girl’s lived a hard life over there. Both those women keep binoculars at the window that looks out at Traci’s backyard. She wasn’t lying when she said they watched her. And those kids—Jed Draper’s kids? Filthy house, and two of them wearing nothing but dirty diapers with the older one looking like he’d smother them in their sleep if he could get away with it.”

  “Oh, Lee.”

  “There’s a look, Em. He’s young for it, but there’s a look in the eyes, and he has it. And I come back here,” he went on while he peeled a third egg, “I see our boys working together. And that sweet little girl comes running to me, smelling like fresh-cut grass and shampoo, wearing that pretty little—whatever it is.”

  “Romper,” Emily added, setting down his coffee, standing behind him to rub his knotted shoulders.

  “Well, she’s romping in it, and now she’s bouncing on Darby’s shoulders out there, happy as ten puppies in a pile. It made me think those kids—no fault of theirs—but those kids, whoever’s doing my job in fifteen, twenty years? They’re going to lock those kids up. That’s the odds they got.”

  “Some beat the odds,” Zane said.

  “Yeah, that’s true. Best to remember some do.”

  Leaning over, Emily kissed his cheek. “You go on out there, play with your granddaughter. Zane and I can finish these.”

  “No, I’m fine here. Peeling eggs, it’s mindless. I could use some of that.” He reached back to pat Emily’s hand, looked over at Zane
.

  “You’re a good man, Zane. I want to say that to you in case I haven’t recently. You suck at peeling eggs, no question about it, but you’re a good man. Now, if I were you, I’d leave these to me, and I’d go out there to that long-legged woman, help her string lights, and give another shot at smooth-talking her into moving in here with you.”

  “Don’t have to. She’ll be moving in tomorrow.”

  Emily squealed, not unlike Audra, then wrapped her hands around Zane’s throat as if to choke him. “I’ve been here more than an hour, and you’re just telling me?”

  “I’ve been concentrating pretty fiercely on peeling these eggs.”

  “You.” Now she lightly swatted the side of his head. “Get out. Get those lights up, then you make sure your cousins have the rest of the tables set where they’re supposed to be.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  He escaped.

  “Damn it, my potatoes,” she remembered, and dashed to take the pot off the stove.

  “It’s been a hard morning,” Lee began.

  Steady, Emily poured the boiled potatoes and water into the colander in the sink. “I know it.”

  “But that? It sure pushed away a lot of the hard.”

  She looked through the steam, through the window over the sink, out to where Zane plucked Audra off Darby’s shoulders and settled her on his own.

  “Our boy’s happy, Lee. I worried about him more than Britt—he shouldered so much. But he’s happy. And that girl? They fit. Seeing they do, it settles something in me. I see Gabe out there throwing a ball for the dogs and Brody shaking his head and laughing. It all settles something in me.”

  “We did good work, Em.”

  She glanced over with a smile. “Don’t feel I’m done yet, but yeah, so far, some pretty damn good work.”

  * * *

  A few hours later, Zane figured he’d rather have a good, solid nap instead of hosting a party. He’d hauled tables, chairs, climbed up and down ladders, carted out huge coolers of lemonade, iced tea, galvanized tubs to fill with ice and beer and wine.

  Every time he thought he could have a beer break, grab a shower, someone—usually female—gave him another chore.

  Before he knew it, the band Emily insisted on arrived, started setting up equipment on the platform Lee and his boys had built.

  “Zane, you need to set out those new trash cans.” Busy filling colorful tubs with silly little prizes, Britt called out to him before he could sneak away. “With the liners! Brody, have you finished the signs?”

  “Almost!” Brody, the only one of them possessing any semblance of artistic talent, sat working on a sign to indicate cans and bottles, others for the age-grouping of the prizes.

  Zane set out the new trash cans, stowed extra bags in the bottom as Emily had taught him, opened two to line the cans.

  Determined to get that beer and shower before somebody found something else for him to do, he headed for the kitchen doors.

  Darby walked out.

  She wore one of those sundresses that made men grateful for hot, sunny days. He wasn’t sure he’d known she owned a dress, much less a bold yellow one with skinny straps that showed off strong shoulders, a swirly skirt that floated around long, bare legs.

  She wore the pendant he’d given her, little dangles in her ears.

  And she’d fussed with her face—especially her eyes so they looked long and sexy and read violet.

  “Well, look at you.”

  “You’d better, as I spent some time getting on my summer picnic.”

  “We should have one every week.”

  Then she capped it by handing him a cold beer. “You’re dismissed to get yourself ready.”

  “Praise Jesus.” But he cupped the back of her neck first, drew her in for a kiss. “However long it took, so worth it. I need to take you to a fancy dinner in Asheville.”

  “How about we take each other out?”

  “Works for me.”

  Since he had to get by Emily and Britt—both putting food together and talking cheerfully about just that—he moved fast and quiet.

  It didn’t take him long, a quick shower, a fresh shirt and jeans, a pair of black Chucks. When he opened his terrace doors, he heard a guitar, heard his family, so stepped out for a minute.

  His younger cousin played—courtesy of one of the band. And Brody looked wildly happy as others took up instruments, picked up the tune.

  All three dogs, worn out from the afternoon, slept in the shade. Audra in her red-and-white-striped romper and blue hair ribbon clapped at the music.

  Despite all his misgivings at the size and scope, he realized it all looked just fine. Just absolutely fine, with the red, white, and blue covered tables, the white awnings casting shade, the stacks of matching plates and napkins and cups.

  Too early for the lights, he thought, but that was going to look just fine, too.

  Darby’s clever beanbag boards stood colorfully on the lawn, as did a bigger one for softball pitching designed for older kids.

  Music rang out, the sun shined, and his lady wore a yellow dress.

  Yeah, he decided, it all looked just fine.

  * * *

  It felt fine, smelled fine, sounded fine when he manned the smoking grill and dozens of people swarmed his yard and house.

  Dogs, revived, wandered the crowd hoping for a handout. Beanbags slapped against painted plywood. He got hugs, backslaps, cheek kisses as he flipped burgers and dogs onto platters. He smelled fried chicken and hoped he wouldn’t be too late to get himself some.

  “Good party.” Silas strolled over to him. “Dave’s gonna take over for you for a minute.”

  He caught the look in his brother-in-law’s eyes, turned. “I hereby pass the ceremonial flipper and tongs.”

  “Got it covered,” Dave told him, handed him a beer.

  “How ’bout we take a little walk.” With a glass of cold sweet tea, as he considered himself still on duty, Silas led the way around the far side of the house.

  “What’s up?”

  “Just heard from Lee. The Drapers got back—without Clint. They’re claiming he went off with some friends on a fishing trip yesterday. The usual bullshit about how Traci’s a liar, probably banged herself up to make Clint look bad.”

  “What friends?”

  “That’s the next thing. How the hell are they supposed to know? He’s a grown man, can come and go as he pleases. We’re figuring he got wind, tapped one of his drinking buddies to meet him, and he’s hiding out.”

  Silas glanced back, making sure they were out of earshot. “Lee said they had long guns, no fishing gear. Claim they stowed the gear back by the stream, which is bullshit, and had the shotguns for protection.

  “They gave Lee plenty of grief, plenty of sass, but you know the chief, he handles it. We’ll rotate out again, keep a lookout, but Clint’s likely to stay low for a day or two.”

  “He can’t hide forever, and Traci’s safe.” That, Zane thought, had to be good enough for now. “I’ll draft up divorce papers tomorrow, go in to see her, let her look them over, explain what she needs to do now that she’s had some time.”

  “Hope to hell she doesn’t back off again. Well. You oughta get yourself some food, son. Enjoy your own party.”

  “I’ll do that. You keep me updated. The sooner Draper’s locked up, the better.”

  She’d be afraid, Zane thought as they rounded the house again. Traci would stay afraid until he was. And fear, he knew, either made you fight back or give up.

  Still, he had to put it away for now. He had more than a hundred people eating, talking, playing. He managed to snag a drumstick before he grazed the food tables, piling his plate.

  “Try that tortellini salad.” Ashley sidled up beside him. “Nathan made it, and you won’t be sorry.”

  “Didn’t know you were here.” He leaned down to kiss her cheek.

  “Haven’t been here long. And the minute we showed up, my parents confiscated my kids. This is an
amazing house, Zane, and the grounds—wow! I need to make friends with Darby.”

  “She makes them pretty easy, which is why I haven’t seen her for a while.”

  “Over there, helping run the kids’ games.”

  He glanced around as he scooped up some of the tortellini, watched Darby cheer on a little girl at the softball throw.

  Ashley tipped her head toward his shoulder. “Not a woman in the world who doesn’t want someone to look at her like you’re looking at Darby. Does she know you’re in love with her?”

  “Yeah. Shows, huh?”

  “Big-time. I’m so happy for you, Zane. And now I’m going to find Nate and see if I can make him look at me just like that.”

  He squeezed himself into a place at a table beside Micah and Cassie, let the music and party noise wash over him while he ate.

  “You actually know all these people?” Micah asked him.

  As Zane looked around, he shrugged, shoveled in more tortellini—Ashley hadn’t steered him wrong. “It’s more like Emily knows all these people. They keep coming, don’t they?”

  “Music’s tight, food’s good. Who wouldn’t?” Cassie wagged her fork at him. “If you do this again, you’re going to have more. Word spreads, you know? People’ll suck up to you just to get the invite.”

  Then she leaned over, dropped her voice. “I don’t want to bring things down, but do you know if Traci’s okay? Her mom and my mom are friends, longtime.”

  “She’s with her mother, and in a safe place.”

  “Good enough. I’m just going to let my mom know.” She wiggled out, then patted Zane’s shoulder before she walked off. “Good deed.”

  “Guess I didn’t tell you I had a little … altercation with Clint Draper a couple weeks back.”

  Zane paused, took a look at Micah. “Define ‘altercation.’”

  “Just a little contretemps. See, I’m walking down the street, gonna meet Cass at Grandy’s for some eats. As I pass Clipper’s Bar, Draper comes out, gives me a full-on shoulder bump, right? So I just say, like, Hey, share the road, man, keep going, but he comes after me, gets all up my grill, dig? What he is? Shit-faced.”

  Since he hadn’t tried it on his first round at the food, Micah paused to stab a fork into Zane’s tortellini. “Not even seven in the p.m., and he’s shit-faced, which is why he’s coming out of Clipper’s, and why he’s looking for a fight. They kicked his ass out.”