by Gen Griffin
Sully laughed. “Delinquent.”
“Damn straight I was.” Addy rubbed his palms together. “I say we just leave everything where it is and leave a note on the door for whoever is using this place. Tell them to get their crap and get out. Hell, it's only bad luck that we've caught them. No one would ever have noticed if they had picked one of the other cabins. I'm wanting to say eight of the other cabins are in various stages of foreclosure or owned by a bank. They ain't no different than this one.”
“What are you going to do? Sully toyed with the knob to one of the smaller doors within the bedroom. It was locked. “Leave a note telling them to pick a different place to vandalize?”
“Technically, I don't know if this counts as vandalism.” Addison gestured to the neatly folded clothes in the dresser. “They cleaned up the cobwebs, bleached the bathroom and put all of their clothes away nicely. I don't see any damage to the house, do you?”
“No,” Sully admitted.
“I don't have it in me to arrest someone for deep cleaning a bathroom.”
“You just don't want to sit out here all night.” Sully shivered slightly.
“You're right. I don't. The temperature is already dropping and I'd like to be home all nice and warm in my bed before midnight.”
“Got someone coming over to keep you warm tonight?” Sully asked with a smirk.
“No,” Addison said. “To be honest, I haven't had anyone over in awhile.”
“Is the notorious Addison Malone going through a dry spell?” Sully began closing the dresser drawers. He left all of the squatter's belongings where they had been.
“I don't know,” Addison admitted with surprising honesty. “It used to drive me crazy to go home alone, but lately the silence has been alright. Peaceful, even. Maybe I'm growing up. This last year...man. It hasn't been easy. Kind of a wake-up call.”
Sully considered for a minute and then nodded as they walked back out into the living room. “How's your Momma doing?”
Addison hesitated and then shrugged. “Truthfully?”
“Only if you want to.”
Addy quirked a half-hearted smile. “She had the baby and the doctors have pretty much tripled her meds. They say she's getting better. I don't know. I always thought she was just an unpredictable, moody bitch. It never crossed my mind that she might have a mental illness. Gracie tells me we need to try to be sympathetic. I'm having a damn hard time coming up with any sympathy. We're supposed to be doing family counseling, but I can't bring myself to care enough to go. I'm damn near thirty. Who really cares how I get along with my parents at this point?”
Sully shrugged. “Your choice, I reckon.”
“The last time I went with Gracie and Cal. Mom accused us all of plotting against her and then insisted Cal leave because she still claims he's not family. I wound up walking out. I just can't deal with the bullshit. Dad won't even drive up to Silver City to see her.”
“Did y'all ever figure out who the baby's father was?”
“Not Dad,” Addison said. “She's got the same turquoise eyes as me and Gracie, but her hair is jet black. The general assumption is that she's Tommy's even though we're still waiting on the DNA tests. Not that the DNA matters. State law says that she's Dad's since Mom and Dad have been married for more than twenty years. Tommy would have to go to court to get any kind of custody. I don't get the impression that he's too fond of that idea.”
“You don't think he wants the baby?” Sully asked.
“He doesn't want anything to do with Mom, the baby or any of this mess. He won't even return our calls.”
“Ouch.”
“I could kick his ass again, but it feels like a waste of time. He's such a damned loser. Kind of ironic, actually. Mom's spent years accusing me of being a unmotivated loser and then she cheats on Dad with a high school dropout who works stocking shelves for minimum wage. Go figure.”
“I don't even know what to say to that,” Sully admitted.
“Me neither.” Addison let out a bitter laugh and then sobered. “I never know what to say anymore. It's like I just stand on the shore and let the disasters crash over me like waves breaking.”
“Maybe you need a vacation,” Sully suggested. “Go sit on a beach somewhere and drink your problems away for a week.”
“Shit. I'd love one. Got anyone to cover my shifts? Or even to cover any of Kerry's shifts that I've had to pick up?” Addison dug around in his pockets until he pulled out a slightly crumpled notebook and a pen. “I'd settle for not working 60+ hours a week. That would sort of be like having a vacation.”
Sully shook his head regretfully. “I got nothing for you. Forget I suggested a vacation. It's a pipe dream you'll never achieve.”
Addy snorted as he leaned down on the kitchen counter and began scribbling out a quick note to whoever had been using the cabin. “You know Kerry's trying to come back, don't you?”
“How?” Sully asked, the surprise evident in his hazel eyes. “He's still in a wheelchair.”
“He says he can work desk duty,” Addison said.
“That's not a good idea.”
“I couldn't agree more.” Addy finished the note and then set it down on the counter. He tapped it lightly with the end of his ink pen. “I just told them that they've been caught and the owner wants them gone. They have three days to get out of here and then I'm coming back to change the locks. Fair enough?”
“More than fair,” Sully told him. “You really going to come back and change the locks?”
Addy shrugged and then shook his head no. “Probably not. It's the thought that counts, right?”
Sully just rolled his eyes.
Chapter 2
“Ma'am, I'm really sorry but your card has been declined. Do you have another form of payment?”
Katie's head jerked up from the half empty appetizer plate that she'd been staring at in an effort not to stare at the dozen or so happy couples and cheerful families that surrounded her romantic, lonely table for two. “Excuse me?”
The waitress looked apologetic as she held out Katie's debit card along with two small receipts. “Your card was declined.”
“That's not possible. I just got paid this afternoon. Run it again, please”
The waitress shrugged awkwardly. “I'm sorry. I can't. I've already run it three times. Your card doesn't work.”
“That's impossible,” Katie repeated herself because she had no idea what to say. She'd only bought a tank of gas and a $3 sandwich for herself since her $575 paycheck had direct-deposited into her account that morning. She should still have well over $500 left.
“I'm sorry,” the waitress said again. “Look, your bill is only twelve dollars. You didn't order much. Surely you can pay it in cash?”
Katie swallowed as the first burst of nervousness hit her like a sucker punch to the stomach. “I don't have any cash on me.”
“Another card?” The waitress suggested.
“I don't have that either,” Katie said.
The waitresses eyes widened. “Do you think there's any chance the person you were waiting on is going to show up?” She gestured to the empty chair.
Katie felt the slow burn of complete and total humiliation creeping up her cheeks. “My husband is working late,” she lied. “I don't think he's going to be able to make it.”
In truth, Katie didn't have a clue where Ian was. He'd been supposed to meet her at the restaurant over an hour ago so that they could celebrate her birthday two days early with a nice dinner. She'd been sitting alone at a romantic table for two since a few minutes before seven. She'd even dressed up in a pretty, long sleeved burnt orange boutique dress with lacy sleeves that draped attractively over her small hands and lace trim that just barely cleared her knees. The brown suede ankle boots she'd bought to wear tonight had delightfully impractical four-inch heels and fat, fake leather flowers that fastened around her ankles. Her sister, Kristy, had taken five stringy inches off of Katie's honey blonde hair, turning her custom
ary ponytail into a sleek, chin-length bob that Katie doubted she'd be able to replicate when she went to style it at home.
She'd gone all out in hopes that tonight might be good enough to make her reconsider telling Ian that she wanted a divorce. Her forced optimism had lasted right up until Ian had stopped answering her calls and failed to show up at the restaurant. As awful as divorce was, being single had to be better than being stood up and ignored. Winding up alone for the rest of her life and living with seventy-two cats would be better than this.
“You're sure my card was declined?” Katie closed her eyes and sucked in a deep breath.“There has to be some kind of mistake. I have over $500 in that account.”
“It was declined,” the waitress repeated.
“I don't have any other money.” Katie's mouth had gone dry.
“Is there someone you can call?” The waitress asked. “Our manager will press charges against you if you don't pay your bill. We've had too many people skipping out on their tabs without paying lately. You either pay for your food, or you go to jail.”
Katie blanched. “I have money in the bank. I don't know why my card won't run.”
“I suggest you figure it out,” the waitress said. “Otherwise, you probably have about fifteen minutes before we call the police. I'm sorry.”
Katie's heart dropped into her stomach as she picked up the phone. “Let me make a phone call.”
Chapter 3
The icy night wind that was blowing across the dark bayou made Addison shiver as he approached the dock. Only two vehicles were in the landing parking lot: Addison's shiny new Dodge 4x4 and a small, battered red S-10 that Addison recognized all too easily.
“I have never been so glad to see dry land.” Sully was sitting in the front of the elderly bass boat that the county had purchased sometime during the 1990s. His uniform pants were soaked through with wet swamp water. He'd stripped off his boots and left his toes to brave the cold.
“You and me both.” Addison guided the boat up to the rickety wooden dock. “I love the bayou, but it is not quite as pleasant in winter at night as it is during summer afternoons.”
“Agreed.” Sully had also spotted the S-10 and his eyes narrowed as they docked the boat. Sully quickly tied them off as Addison cut the motor. “I see an ugly little truck with no boat trailer. Wonder what Ian's doing sitting at a boat landing at night without a boat?”
“I doubt I want to know,” Addison acknowledged reluctantly. There was no love lost between Sully and Ian. Ian resented Sully for taking his position with the Sheriff's department. He had made no secret of how he much he disliked the newcomer he'd snidely christened “Deputy Perfect”.
The tension between the two had been made significantly worse when Ian had drunkenly stormed into the Sheriff's Department last week and screamed at Katie for driving the S-10 to work without his permission. Addison hadn't been in the office at the time – a stroke of luck that had probably saved Ian's life – but Sully didn't have much patience for drunken assholes.
Sullivan Briggs was easily 240 lbs of solid muscle. Ian was 150 lbs of whiny bluster. According to everyone involved, Sully had politely but firmly told Ian to calm down or leave. Ian had responded by spitting in Sully's face and telling him to go fuck himself. Sully then picked Ian up by the throat and quite literally threw him out of the building. He hadn't landed his impromptu flying lesson very well. Last Addison had seen Ian, he'd still had quite a bit of road rash on his face.
“I know he's your friend, but-.”
“He's not my friend,” Addison interrupted flatly.
There was just enough moonlight for Addison to see the surprised look on Sully's face.
“He's not my friend,” Addison repeated. “He used to be my friend. Our friendship is past-tense.”
“Before you knew he killed a little girl?” Sully asked.
Addison hesitated and then shrugged. He supposed Casey's death was a better excuse than the truth would be. “Before a lot of things.”
Sully let it go as Addison climbed up on the dock. “Let's call it a night and get the hell out of here.”
“Sounds like a plan.” Addison pulled the keys to his Dodge out of his pocket. “You wait here. I'll back the trailer down to the water. If we load her up real quick we might even make it home for dinner.”
“You got it, boss.”
Chapter 4
“Hello?” Gracie answered her phone on the second ring. “Hello? Katie? You there?”
“Hey,” Katie choked out the word as if it were a frog that was caught in her throat. She was standing on a deserted corner of the restaurant's back deck. She was alone because no one wanted to eat outside on a forty-degree night with a whipping north wind coming through.
“What's wrong?” Gracie asked immediately.
“Where are you?” Katie bit her lower lip. She hated asking people for help. She hated admitting to anyone, even her best friend, that her life was falling apart at the seams.
“Three miles outside of Silver City. Mom called and asked Cal and me to come up here tonight.” There was a real hesitation in Gracie's normally confident tone. Jane May's mental breakdown and attempted sabotage of her own daughter's wedding had done nothing to improve their already strained relationship. The birth of Kimber Leigh Malone, Gracie's month old baby half-sister, had only made things worse.
Jane May and the baby had been staying with a distant aunt of Gracie's since Kimber's birth. Gracie didn't know if her mother was going to come home to Possum Creek or not. She had already privately confessed to Katie that she wasn't sure she wanted her mother to come back.
“Shit,” Katie muttered under her breath. It was taking every bit of willpower she had not to cry.
“What's wrong?” Gracie repeated.
“Everything,” Katie choked out.
“Talk.”
“Ian stood me up. I got all dressed up and had Mom drop me off at Bellefontaine's. I was supposed to be meeting Ian here at seven so that we could celebrate my birthday a little early with a nice dinner.”
“He never showed up?” Gracie sounded disgusted.
“He never showed up and his phone is turned off,” Katie confirmed. “Worse, he apparently emptied out our joint bank account this afternoon. I ordered myself an appetizer and a sweet tea while I waited for Ian. My card just got declined.”
“Oh my god, that's awful.”
“Gracie, they're threatening to call the cops on me and have me arrested if I can't pay my bill. I called my bank and my account is in the negative. I got paid today and Ian has spent every dime of it and then overdrafted it for another $37.50.” Katie lost her battle against the tears. She started to cry even though she knew her the tears would ruin her make-up. She just didn't care anymore. “I don't have any cash. My one and only credit card has been maxed out for months. I'm about to go to jail.”
“No, you're not.” Gracie sounded a whole lot calmer than Katie felt. “Put the manager on the phone. He can run my debit card. I'll give him the number.”
“Are you sure?” Katie asked through her tears.
“Seriously?” Gracie countered. “You're my best friend. Ian is dead fucking meat the next time I see him. I'm going to staple his nuts to the floor of a building and then light it on fire. He can either rip his balls off or burn to death. I don't care which.”
Katie almost had to smile and she wiped her tears off her cheeks. She sent up a silent prayer that the manager would agree to run Gracie's card over the phone as she went back inside the restaurant.
Chapter 5
“Dude, this don't feel right.” Lowery hesitated in the doorway that separated the back office of Walker Hardware from the rest of the store.
“It's fine. Quit worrying.” Ian held up the wrinkled piece of notebook paper that he'd spent the last five minutes crumbling up in his sweaty palms. “We've got the code to the safe.”
“There are cameras everywhere.” Lowery pointed up at the security camera that was mounted to
a wall above them.
“April Lynne turned the cameras off before she left for the night,” Ian reminded him. “Look at it real good. See any red light? Any light at all?”
“No,” Lowery admitted.
“What are you so worried about?” Joe sat down on the edge of the heavy wooden desk that occupied the center of the office. A pile of paperwork was displaced by his butt and fell off the side.
“Cal Walker,” Lowery said the name in a voice that was barely louder than a whisper. “He'll shoot us if he catches us.”
“We ain't got to worry about Cal.” Ian smoothed out the wrinkled paper against the wall next to the safe and began fiddling with the old fashioned dial. “He and Gracie are in Silver City tonight. They've got to deal with her crazy ass Momma.”
“I don't know.” Lowery rubbed his chin unhappily. “What about Breedlove?”
“David's not going to shoot me,” Ian said calmly. “He's my cousin.”
“Who says he's going to look before he pulls the trigger?”
“David ain't as crazy as everyone makes him out to be. Trust me when I say that bastard won't pull the trigger until he knows what he's firing at. He's a good bit more cautious than folks give him credit for.”
Lowery didn't seem satisfied with the answer. “This just don't seem smart. Everything is too easy.”
“Easy is good,” Joe argued. “We're going to net at least a couple grand a piece. We ain't even going to break a sweat. I don't know why your ass is complaining.”
“In my experience, too easy lands you in a jail cell.”
“You worry too fucking much.”
Lowery glared at Joe. “This ain't no petty theft, Joe. Everything else we've taken has been misdemeanor level shit. Even if the cops had rolled up on us in the middle of stealing the shit, it only would have been a misdemeanor. Tonight ain't no misdemeanor. Tonight is a felony. I don't want another felony on my record. I don't like jail.”
“Stop talking. I can't concentrate with y'all running your mouths.” Ian spun the dial on the safe. “I hate these kinds of locks. It always took me four or five tries to get my gym locker open in high school.”