Copyright © 2019 by Christa Weisman
No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without prior written consent of the author except where permitted by law.
Disclaimer; This book is a work of fiction. All names, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to an actual person, living or dead, businesses, companies, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Warning: This book contains adult content and sensitive topics
Editing & Cover Design by Murphy Rae, Indie Solutions by Murphy Rae
Formatting by Elaine York, Allusion Graphics, LLC
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Epilogue
Contact the Author
This book is dedicated to my husband, Dustin and my dad, George.
Two extraordinary men.
Even better fathers.
First day gone
The shrill ring from the phone on his nightstand disrupted his restless slumber. His eyesight blurred, red and watery as he watched the shadows dance across the ceiling. How long had he been staring above him? Minutes? Hours? Had he even slept at all?
He closed his eyes when he heard it again, and for a moment he feigned being out of the house so he wouldn’t have to answer. But then…
Lila.
His limbs were numb; it took more strength than he could muster to reach for the cordless phone. Still, he managed, knowing he couldn’t ignore it much longer. He cleared his throat.
“Hello?”
“Chief?” Her voice was thick with distress. He knew who the caller was before she announced it. He knew everyone in this small town and more about them than he should.
“It’s Anna Hudson.”
He straightened up in bed, looking at his bedside clock. It was nearing noon. He was sweating, his shirt stuck to his torso. He tossed the blanket from his body and sat up to rest his feet on the cold hardwood floor. The coolness jolted him awake. He pressed two fingers against the bridge of his nose; his head was killing him. “How can I help you, Mrs. Hudson?”
“It’s the boys, Chief.” As if no names were needed, and in this town, they weren’t. He knew immediately whom she was referring to. The only boys this town seemed to care about, coveting them like their own damn trophies.
“J.R. didn’t come home last night.” The panic was back, only she kept her voice low, as though she was keeping her words from being heard around her.
“I called over to the Young’s,” she continued. “And they said the same about Ethan. They figured he was here with us. I tried Kate but there was no answer.”
Kate he knew would most likely be asleep after working her night shift at the hospital. “Maybe they’re sleeping and didn’t hear the phone?”
“No, J.R. never stays at Caleb’s. And besides, he knows better than to stay out...” A sound came from the front of the house that caused her to pause. “Just a moment, Chief.” He heard the clanking of the phone being dropped onto a table and rustling he couldn’t make out. He ran a hand down the back of his neck, feeling the dampness of sweat stain his palm. “Never mind,” she said back into the phone. “As I was saying, J.R. knows not to stay out without talking to us first. Or at the very least, leaving a message on the machine for us to hear in the morning.”
He stood, feeling the strain in his back as he straightened. “Well, what about Grace? She’s bound to know something. Weren’t they together last night?”
She gave an irritable sigh. “Of course I called Grace. She hasn’t spoken to him since Friday night’s game.”
He lifted a finger to his bedroom curtain to see the rain coming down in his backyard. The puddles were piling up like stepping stones in the grass. It had been over a week since Washington had seen rain. An oddity for late November. Now, as he watched it come down, he felt the somber embrace of it. “That seems strange, wouldn’t you say?”
“Nothing more than a lover’s quarrel,” she brushed off. “You do remember those, don’t you, Chief?”
The remark stung and she knew it. She drew a shaky breath. “I’m sorry, Rex. I’m not myself this morning.”
He ignored her apology. “What does your husband say about all of this?”
“Oh, you know Jameson. He says I’m overreacting, that I worry too much.” Her tone turned mocking. “He says that boys will be boys and that they’re probably passed out somewhere.”
A memory flashed in his mind about the time, not so long ago, he had picked the boys up from drinking and taken them home in his patrol car rather than to the station. Jameson had given him the same runaround about boys and their behavior.
“But you don’t believe that.” He doesn’t wait for her to answer. He closed the curtain and ran a hand through his cropped sandy blond hair. “It’s a bit early for a missing person’s report, Anna. What is it that you would like me to do?”
He heard her sharp intake of breath. “If you could just drive around, see if you see them out or even J.R.’s car anywhere.” She paused. “And Rex, I hope you understand that I want this to be as discreet as possible.”
His blood boiled at the mention of discretion. “Give me an hour,” he said through clenched teeth.
“Thank you, Chief.”
He hung up the phone and stood there a moment, staring off into space. His head was pounding and his heart was pumping so loud he could hear it in his ears. He opened the drawer on his nightstand table and pulled out the dark liquid bottle he kept hidden below a sports magazine. He unscrewed the top and allowed himself one long swig before tossing it back into its place. He dressed silently, careful to steady his fingers on each button. He didn’t dare look at himself in the mirror. He couldn’t stand the sight of himself. When his shoes were tied and his gun was in place, he took a deep breath, contemplated one more drink, and headed out down the hall.
Her bedroom was on the other end of the house. He’d hated it when she was just a baby, and often had her crib and then a small mattress in his room, but when the pre-teens hit followed by the full force of teenager syndrome, he was grateful for the distance. It was helpful for the nights he came in late from work and she was already asleep or the mornings he got called out early while she still slept. But at times, he felt that living far apart in the same house built an invisible wall between them. Her wing, and his, where neither dared to enter.
He stood at her door a moment. His hand trembled when he knocked. When she didn’t answer, he slowly turned the knob. She was fully dressed but lay on her bed with her eyes closed as though she were sleeping. Her Discman sat atop her belly, her toes tapping in beat to the music streaming in her ears. She didn’t notice him at first, but w
hen she did her moss green eyes twinkled with annoyance. Maura’s eyes.
It’s in this position he had found her every day for the last week. She’d left him a note saying she was ill and taking a day from school. A day had become two, which had then turned into a week. Even though she was grounded from after-school activities, he expected her to go to school. Day after day that passed, he became worried, watching the weight and color drain from her as she refused food and only wanted to sleep. He offered to take her to Dr. Parker, but she adamantly refused, telling him it was a girl thing and to leave her alone.
He often wondered how different life would be for his daughter if she had a mother around. Not left with a fuck-up old man like himself who didn’t know how to talk to teenage girls.
“You been up long?” he asked her when she took the headphones from her ears.
“About an hour, I guess.” She looked him up and down, aware that he was in uniform and not his traditional Sunday jeans. “You slept late.” She raised a brow. “Or are you just getting home?”
“No, I’ve been home.” He paused, feeling like he should add more to the conversation. “But it was a late night. There was a party out at the Hoffmans’ place I had to deal with.”
Her eyes darkened. “I heard about that.” She tilted her head, giving him a funny glance. “You okay?”
He swallowed hard. How many times had he asked her the same question? “Of course.”
“Your eyes are bloodshot. You look like hell.”
Normally, he would scold her for talking to him like this. But things had changed between them. “Just tired. Late night, as I said.”
She shrugged, her eyes falling away from him —her way of asking for privacy.
“So, I’m heading in for a bit. I have some business to take care of. Should I bring us back some donuts from Lee’s?”
She grinned slightly at him, and it was just enough to make him implode with emotion. He damned near cracked a smile. It told him she knew that he was trying. The color was starting to come back to her skin, the grey shadows clearing from under her eyes.
“Sure, Dad.”
“Okay, I’ll be back in a couple hours. Call down at the station if you need anything; they know how to get ahold of me.”
“I know the drill, Dad.” The sarcasm was back, but it wasn’t enough to upset him. He watched as she slid the headphones back over her ears and closed her eyes. The length of her body took up nearly the whole bed, but he could still remember the first night she slept in it when she was five and swallowed up by stuffed animals. Ten years later and he had a hard time not seeing her as that little girl. Gone were the dolls and framed pictures of horses, replaced by posters of bands she liked that he didn’t understand. But her fragility was still there. And damn if that didn’t terrify him more than anything.
He locked the front of the house behind him and settled into his patrol car. He rolled down the driveway, not sure of where he was heading, or what he would find.
Nine weeks earlier
They came in like a powerhouse, one right after the other. J.R. Hudson took the lead, followed by Caleb Weston, with Ethan Young just a step behind. They dominated the courtyard of Timber Falls High and walked with confidence, knowing all eyes were upon them, even though they looked straight ahead, seeing no one. They had waited their whole lives for this moment. The first day of senior year. Top dogs.
They proudly wore their blue and white football jerseys, the word Falcons stretched over their broad chests. There was never any question as to if they would wear the uniform; they’ve known their path since they were kids. Especially J.R., whose father, the Mayor Jameson Robert Hudson, had also been a quarterback for the Timber Falls Falcons. Ethan, having been best friends with J.R. since Kindergarten, knew no other life than the one that J.R. had laid out for them. Not that he minded; J.R. always had the best ideas— that was until Caleb had come into the picture in seventh grade and shaken up the way J.R. thought.
There were claps on their backs as they strode toward the gym, and cheers of good wishes for Friday night’s game that no student or townsfolk would miss. The boys couldn’t help but crack a small smile at the adoration that was passed their way. After winning last year’s 1995 state championship trophy, they deserved the praise. This year’s scorecard would be no different.
The students scrambled into the bustling gym. The excitement of the first day of school combined with the first pep assembly left no room for calm and control. The teachers and staff were abuzz themselves as they chatted among each other over the booming sound of the marching band. The football team took their places in the front row just behind the cheerleading squad that was already flying high in the air and practicing their new routine. The boys lost all sense of composure and engulfed themselves in the energy of the room, tackling each other playfully. Finally, Principal Dan Harris came to the center of the basketball court, a mic in his hand, and hushed the crowd. The students only got louder, stomping their feet on the bleachers until they even drowned out the band. Principal Harris threw his head back in laughter, making the kids go wild, jumping from their seats chanting “Falcons” to the beat of their stomps. He loved this moment as much as they did. He remembered being a student here twenty-five years ago, and the principal at the time, Mr. Jenkins, had rarely cracked a smile, let alone shown up at the pep assemblies. He’d sworn to himself that one day he would be in charge and they would love him. And they did.
J.R. met head cheerleader Gracelynn Morgan’s eye and winked. She blew him a kiss back. Avery Quinn, who stood beside her and watched the whole exchange, turned to look at Caleb with the same adoration, but his eyes were on the crowd, his face twisted into a smug grin.
“Okay, okay,” Principal Harris chimed in, his voice thick with laughter. “I know you don’t want to hear from me. But I first want to start by welcoming our freshman class…” He was interrupted by an onset of booing, a tradition at Timber Falls High even when he had been a student there. The freshman looked stricken, even those who had been warned by older siblings. Principal Harris let the razzing go on long enough before taking command of the crowd again.
“And a big shout-out to the senior graduating class…” Cheers erupted through the gym as he continued, “Or to those of you who will be graduating this year. Not so sure about all of you. I’ve seen your transcripts.” He cocked a smile. “I’m talking to you, Caleb Weston.”
The guys jabbed at Caleb as he took what he thought to be a joke in stride. Hell if he knew if he’d pass senior year; hell if he cared. He was one of the boys, and if a college football coach came knocking on his door, he knew he’d convince Principal Harris to make some changes to his papers.
“Before we get this party started,” the principal continued, “I’d like to pass the mic to a man you all know and trust, a man I got down and dirty with on the same field his son is now the captain of. Please welcome Mayor Hudson!”
The crowd applauded as J.R.’s father walked forward, the only man in the building wearing a suit. He was strikingly handsome, like his son with the same charismatic cinnamon brown eyes and naturally tanned skin, a rarity in the Pacific Northwest. He took the mic from Principal Harris, whispered something in his ear that made the principal laugh.
He straightened his navy blue tie at the neck and undid the button on his pinstriped coat. His version of getting comfortable. He looked ageless, even younger than Principal Harris, as though being Mayor of a small logging town in Washington state had caused no stress on his body. His pride in his good looks increased when his son was born and bore his resemblance. He never had a problem drawing the women’s attention, not in high school, and not now. And just like back when he was a student, he continued to flourish in it.
“Welcome new and returning students of Timber Falls High!” he bellowed. “You know it wasn’t that long ago that I was a student here with Principal Dan Harris.” The students chuckled and he raised his hand in surrender. “Okay, you got me. But it feels l
ike yesterday. I remember walking these halls for the first time as a freshman and for the last time as a graduating student, not knowing where my future would take me. Fearful of the path ahead. I loved these walls, the ease with which it becomes a second home to you.” He smiled toward J.R., who was looking up at his father in admiration. “I can still taste Ms. McCarthy’s chicken pot pie, and smell the sweat in the locker room after a tough practice or winning game.” The crowd was silent, hanging on to his every word. “These four years of high school are the very best, no doubt about it. And I am trusting you all to be leaders in our community, to continue to keep Timber Falls safe and respected, and to make sure you put as much time into volunteering in the community as you do in your school studies and after-school activities. It is important that we stay united as a town and that begins with you.” He paused, making sure everyone was listening. “You are adults in my eyes, and I will treat and respect you as such.”
The crowd clapped loudly and high-pitched whistles echoed through the gym.
“And one last thing,” he said seriously, though the gleam in his eye gave him away. “Can I count on all of you to be there cheering loudly this Friday night as we take on and beat the South Haven Panthers?”
Everyone was up, stomping their feet on the bleachers. Mayor Hudson walked toward his son and pulled him in for a bear hug. Just this year, J.R. exceeded his father’s height, a fact that at first bruised Jameson’s ego. But just like in every other area that J.R. excelled in, Jameson realized it benefited him as well. The more the town idolized his son, the more they admired him for raising a perfect specimen. And that made Jameson only love his son more. Maybe more than he loved anyone.
J.R. took the mic from his father and settled in at center court. “Hey, everyone,” he said, his voice deep and raspy. “I’m quarterback J.R. Hudson.” With those words, the students erupted in a cry that was so deafening, the other football players covered their ears. Mayor Hudson laughed and slapped his son’s back before he stepped to stand next to principal Harris, allowing his son to take center stage. J.R.’s grin widened, landing on Grace who giggled and shook her head at him.
Someone Knows Something Page 1