by Maisy Morgan
“How so?” Mary asked.
Nat crossed her arms. “He started flirting with me,” she said flatly. “It was… obvious, but I was too… I don’t know… embarrassed, I guess, to mention it to Darren for a while. Every time we all got together, he would try to put his hands on me. I know Jaden had to have noticed it, and I finally had a few words with her to make sure she knew I wasn’t encouraging it. Ken and Jaden had a big fight about it, and he swore I was making the whole thing up. I think that’s what really kick-started the agitation. That happened about four years ago.”
“Did he back off?” Preston asked.
“Oh, yeah, but then he started the same crap with me,” Lana said, shaking her head. “That didn’t last long because I called him out on it the first time it happened and he got all defensive. Said he was just a friendly guy. Bob and Darren had a sit down with him. I’m sure some words were exchanged.”
“Quite a few,” Bob huffed. “He apologized. We let it go. He stopped flirting with them. We kept working together like a couple of idiots.”
“So, a lot of the buyout was because… he was flirting with your wives?” Preston asked.
“That was just the start of it all,” Bob said. “We noticed our sales and our profit wasn’t lining up. Eventually, we realized someone was taking cash under the table from our customers after a customer mentioned to us he wanted to pay in cash to avoid reaching a certain tax margin like last time. Since we have a strict policy against that, you can imagine that raised a brow. We pulled up his old files, and sure enough, it was Ken who had been heading up that old project.”
“We got Jaden to look into it for us,” Darren said. “I guess a part of us knew that they were having problems even then, and she came to us with proof that he had been taking cash from our customers without our consent and pocketing it. This buyout, well, it was a long time coming.”
Lana reached out and touched Bob’s hand, leaning on her husband a bit as she spoke. “Ken was our friend, but his behavior was getting ridiculous. Honestly, I’m not even sure what it was exactly, but Bob and I stopped allowing Stacey over there by herself to visit Bradley. She got irritated at us about that, but there was just something… something not right? The way he acted towards Nat and I, I was worried… that maybe… maybe he’d act that way towards our daughter?”
Mary’s insides twisted in a knot. No wonder these people had been acting so strange about Ken. “I’m so sorry,” Mary said.
“We didn’t know how to tell Stacey that, of course,” Bob said, shaking his head. “But she’s a smart girl. I think she knew we had our reasons for not wanting her over there without us.”
“So, what happened when Jaden told you she was planning on divorcing Ken?” Preston asked.
“What else? We begged her to stay,” Darren said. “She is the best designer we’ve ever had come through here, and we’re not just saying that because she was our friend’s wife. She is good at what she does. Our customers love her. Losing her would have been a far worse blow than Ken leaving the company. So, we told her that if she could hold off a bit, we would start processing the buyout. That once it was all said and done, we’d slip her name into the hat. We would make sure she and Bradley were set up with Ken’s old portion of the business. Obviously, she loved that idea.”
“And at what point did you think it was a bad idea to advise Jaden to stay with the man who was beating her kid just to make your little business transaction a little easier?” Preston asked, and they all froze.
“What?” Darren asked after a long-winded silence.
“Ken. He was beating Bradley,” Preston said.
They all stared, unable to come up with anything to say. After a moment, Lana let out a loud exhale. “We had no idea—are you sure?” she asked.
“We’re sure,” Mary said. “We have pictures as well as Bradley and Jaden’s statements to confirm it.”
Another minute went by. “Honestly,” Bob said at last, “while I’m shocked… I’m not… surprised…” He crossed his arms and leaned back in his seat. “We should… we should have known…”
The rest of the conversation was tainted with discomfort. They all swore they had no idea that there was abuse taking place, yet they all seemed to believe that Ken was perfectly capable. They each expressed their own version of remorse for Bradley, for not having noticed something was deeply wrong with the situation. They were, after all, around them all the time. How could they not have noticed bruises? Noticed how tense Bradley would get when his father raised his voice?
Mary and Preston left the meeting with Bob, Lana, Darren, and Nat not feeling as though they had learned much apart from Ken having been stealing money from the company. That was certainly a possible motivation for the murder. But that still did nothing to help them narrow down a suspect. “I think we need to step back. Try to clear our heads,” Preston said, and rather than taking Mary to the shop, he drove her to a nice restaurant in Peachtree City where they sat and chatted about anything they could think of other than the case. Mary felt like it was just what she had needed to clear her head. Plus, they were quite overdue for a date.
Chapter Twenty-One
When Tripp had entered the school that Friday morning, he was disappointed to see that Bradley wasn’t there. He’d hoped to explain to Bradley what had happened the day before with Kara and Stacey and his friends. He was sure Stacey would have given Bradley an ear full about what a jerk he had been, and he wanted to let Bradley know that that wasn’t the case. Bradley was a good guy, and Tripp hoped that Bradley would give him a chance to explain himself. But Bradley was nowhere to be seen.
He spotted Stacey and Kara in a corner, talking by the vending machine. Tripp exhaled heavily, deciding he wanted to apologize to Kara for being too brisk towards her the day before. He didn’t want to be with her anymore, but he didn’t want to leave things poorly either. He approached the girls a bit nervously and cleared his throat. “Er… Kara?” he beckoned, and she turned her head and gave him a look of absolute disgust.
“What?” she snapped.
“I kind of wanted to, you know, apologize,” he said.
“What, you think I want to get back together or something?” she questioned.
“No, I don’t want to,” Tripp said honestly. “But I could have handled yesterday a little better. I just wanted to check in and make sure you were okay. I still like you, Kara, but after the way you and Stacey were yesterday… look, I’m sorry. Okay? I freaked out on you.”
“Did you really just come over here to confirm that you did indeed dump me?” Kara questioned. “Get lost, Tripp.”
“Seriously,” Stacey said, waving her hand like she was trying to swat away a fly. “Go away.”
Tripp sighed. He wasn’t quite sure what he had expected from trying to talk to them, and he couldn’t blame Kara for not wanting to stand around and talk about the weather. He had jumped down her throat pretty quickly—not that she didn’t deserve a little of it. He nodded. “Okay,” he said. “I’ll leave you alone. I just wanted you to know how I felt. I shouldn’t have left things that way.” She gave him a somewhat of an approving nod before turning around to avoid looking at him.
He walked across the cafeteria, and he spotted Becky heading in his direction. He smiled at Becky. “Hey, Becky, how are—”
“Your freaks are over there,” she said, throwing her thumb behind her to point back to where Draco was sitting on the edge of a cafeteria seat, talking to Hannah, who was sitting upright in her chair.
“They’re not freaks,” Tripp said defensively.
“Sure,” Becky said and turned up her nose. “And, you’re an idiot. I can’t believe you dumped Kara for those two.” She trotted past him, exaggerating her hip sway.
Tripp rolled his eyes. She’s the only stupid one around here, he thought and proceeded towards Hannah and Draco. He had a round of apologies he wanted to make that day. “Hey, guys,” he said as he came close, and they both shot him a filthy look.
Draco didn’t even stay nearby. He jumped up and walked off without giving it a second thought. Hannah shook her head. “Just leave us alone, Tripp,” she said and, as she was in her battery powered chair that morning, let it zip off and away from him, following after Draco, who slowed down only so that she could catch up.
Tripp frowned. “I was just trying to apologize!” he called after them, but they ignored him and kept going. He crossed his arms. “Whatever,” he muttered and sat himself down almost as soon as the first bell rang. He huffed, stood right back up again, and headed towards his locker. Hannah was nowhere in sight.
He headed to first period English and he saw that Hannah had already made her way to their room. He sat down next to her, and when he spoke to her, she gave him the cold shoulder. He slumped down in his chair slightly. “I’m sorry about the way Kara talked to you yesterday,” he said.
“Would you just stop?” she sneered and flung open her composition book to get going on the journaling activity on the board. “Just stop,” she warned before he could respond.
Tripp shook his head and opened up his own composition notebook. The rest of the day was quite similar. Ignored by Hannah in math class. Ignored by Draco in Spanish and science, and they sat on the opposite end of the room from him during drama. No one spoke to him in the hallway. No one walked with him from class to class. Kara would turn around and walk to class an entirely different way to avoid bumping into him.
Draco sat in a different seat on the bus so that they didn’t have to talk, and Tripp rode the bus to the shop with his face rested on the window. He had hardly spoken to anyone all day that day. He dragged his feet into the shop, uttered a quick hello to his grandmother, and slumped down to get started on his homework. “You know what today is, right?” his grandmother asked.
“Huh?”
“Friday, Tripp. You’re talking to your mom tonight!” she exclaimed, ridiculously happy for him.
“Oh!” he said, having completely forgotten about this after the sort of day he had had. He smiled for the first time that day. He was going to meet his mom—something he had wanted to do pretty much his entire life. The next few hours went by painfully slow, and he was jittery by the time Mary was setting him up in her home office in front of the computer.
They were going to talk over webcam. He kept an eye on the clock, and after a moment, the chat site started up and he saw a woman staring back at him whom he recognized from his grandmother’s photo albums. Her face lit up, and an exasperated, “Hi, Tripp,” escaped from her lips, and she had to wipe a few tears from her eyes.
Mary beamed. “Should I give you two a minute?”
Tripp nodded, and his grandmother exited the office and closed the door behind her. Tripp turned back, looking directly at his mom for a moment. There she was on his computer screen, an enormous smile on her face. “Hi,” Tripp said, not sure what else to say.
“Hi,” she said again. “I am… so glad… so glad you wanted to talk to me.”
Tripp smiled slightly. “Yeah…” he said. “How… um… how are you…um…Mom?”
Her voice was nervous and shaky. “I’m better. Better than I’ve been in a very long time,” she said. “Wow…” she said, and she seemed to be studying his face. “You look just like him… your dad, I mean…”
Tripp’s cheeks flushed. “Oh, um, thanks.”
“Oh… I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have brought him up, should l?” she said, suddenly looking quite flustered.
“It’s okay, I mean… I’m okay,” Tripp said, and it was now that he realized they didn’t have anything to talk about. He didn’t know this woman, and she didn’t know him. What was he going to do—give her his entire life story? Did she even deserve that?
“How has school been?” she asked him.
School? Was she really asking him about school? “It’s all right,” he said, staring blankly at her now—his smile having completely faded.
“Your grandma told me you had been talking about trying out for a sports team,” she said. “Any idea which one? I’d love to come out and see you play something sometime.” Tripp wasn’t sure how to respond. They sat there, staring at one another in silence. Uncomfortable with his lack of response, she kept talking. “So, what about this sweets shop I’ve heard so much about? Your grandma told me you’ve been working there?”
Tripp just stared back. Why was he giving this woman the time of day? Really? “You know what,” Tripp said at last and started to stand. “This was a stupid idea.”
She looked hurt. “Tripp, wait,” she said softly.
“No!” he snapped. “I don’t have to talk to you. I don’t owe you anything. If it were up to you, I probably would have grown up in a crack house!” He sat back down, glaring at her—waiting to see what she was going to say.
She was calm. He sensed that she must have been prepared for this. “I deserve that,” she said. “I do. I hope that we can make this work. I hope that one day you’ll forgive me, Tripp, but honestly, I understand if you don’t.”
Tripp felt himself breathing heavy. She was being so calm. So understanding. He felt he would have preferred it if she had yelled back him—given him a reason to not want to try with her. “Well, I don’t!” he shouted. He could hear footsteps, and he realized his grandmother had probably heard all the shouting. “And, you know why? Because at the end of the day, you decided you loved your stupid drugs more than me!” He spun around, and he saw his grandmother standing in the doorway looking quite disappointed in him, and that made him even angrier. He wanted to yell at her too. “What?” he snapped. “You know it’s true! And you want me to give her a second chance? Why should I?”
“Tripp, lower your voice,” Mary said.
“Tripp—” his mother started to speak again, and he spun around and jerked the webcam off the top of the computer, ripping it from its plug. The computer went black, and Tripp chucked the webcam in his grandmother’s direction. She yelped in surprise and jolted out of the way; the camera went flying into a glass display case she had been using to house some of her awards from her news broadcasting days. The glass shattered.
“Tripp!” Mary exclaimed, and he practically pushed her out of the way to get by.
He bolted around the corner, up the stairs, and into his room. He slammed the door behind him, but his rage was still building. He kicked the door twice until it created a small hole. He shoved everything off his desk and picked up an old little league trophy and threw it into his dresser. It broke in two, and this only made him angrier. He reached for his lamp—he hated that lamp anyways. He yanked it up, fully prepared to throw that as well, but the chord snagged and sent a framed picture that had been sitting on his nightstand flying across the floor.
He gasped and carefully returned the lamp to the nightstand before hurrying to the picture frame. He turned it over and he was furious to see that he had cracked the glass. It was a picture of him and his dad, and he felt himself starting to cry. He took the cracked picture frame and threw himself onto his bed, tears streaming down his face.
Tripp buried his face in his pillow for a moment, and when he was able to catch his breath, he located his phone. It had wound up in the middle of the floor during his tantrum. He tried calling Hannah. He wanted to talk to her. She, he felt, was the only person who would understand how he was feeling. She didn’t answer. The second time he called, she sent him straight to voicemail. He tried Draco—Draco sent him to voicemail the first time.
“Jerks!” he snarled and slammed his phone down on the bed and continued to pout. He stopped crying and held the broken frame close to him. He passed out from sheer exhaustion.
He wasn’t sure how long he was asleep, but when he opened his eyes, it was dark outside. He awoke to the sound of a gentle knocking on his door. He turned on his lamp just as it creaked open. His grandmother stood in the doorway, a small plate of food in her hands. “Can I come in?” she asked.
Tripp sat up slowly, rubbing his eyes. “Ugh… what time
is it?”
“About midnight,” she said and entered the room, putting the food down on the nightstand. She glanced around the room. “Tripp, you know that’s not how we deal with our emotions, right?”
Tripp threw his legs over the side of the bed, and he stared up at her. “I’m sorry,” he said.
“If you weren’t ready to talk to your mom, I wish you would have just told me,” she said.
“I was ready,” Tripp said. “Well, I thought I was.”
“Tripp, what happened?” his grandmother asked. “You seemed so excited…” her eyes lingered over to the picture frame that was seated on the bed. She came over, picked it up, and sat down next to him. “Damaged this during your tirade too, I see.”
Tripp rubbed his nose and looked away, embarrassed. “I don’t know what to do,” he said.
“About what?” she asked. “Your mom?”
“That, yeah,” he said, fiddling with his fingers. “Hannah and Draco won’t talk to me.”
“Ah,” she said as though this one statement explained all of his behavior that evening. “Rough day, huh?”
“They won’t talk to me. Kara and Stacey won’t talk to me. Everyone hates me,” Tripp said. “I don’t know what to do.”
“Well, I can tell you one thing not to do,” she said and put an arm around him. “You don’t need to take that out on your mom. I get you’re frustrated at her—believe me, I am too. If you don’t want to talk to her, I’ve told you before that you don’t have to. But she’s not your punching bag either.”
“Will you tell her I’m sorry?” Tripp asked.
She kissed his forehead. “I’ll tell her.”
Tripp had to wipe his eyes. “I don’t know what to do.”
“I know,” she said. “And I wish I had an answer for you. Just give them some time.”
“What if they never talk to me again?”
“Just take it one day at a time right now, honey,” she said. “You’re going to be okay. I promise.”