by Carolina Mac
Jasper glanced up at her. His pimply face looking more sore and raw than usual. “You’re late, Bec. I just about sold your shit.”
Becca smiled as she sat down on the bench next to him and pulled a brown lunch bag out of her purse, “But you didn’t, right?”
“Course, I wouldn’t do that to my best girl.” He set his lunch bag next to her, and when they thought no one was looking, they switched bags.
NEIL JOGGED ACROSS the park, the only thing on his mind was how long he was going to have to stand outside in the heat. The guy on the radio said it was supposed to reach a hundred and twelve today. He was wearing khaki shorts and a tank, but he was sweating buckets.
He had almost reached the far corner of the park when he saw somebody sitting on one of the benches that he thought he recognized. Weird, totally weird because he didn’t know anybody in Austin but his family. Sure as hell didn’t know any blonde women. He took a second look but kept on going.
Neil crossed at the lights, reached the ticket venue and fell into line.
Who is that? And why do I think I know her?
Blackmore Agency. Austin.
FARRELL CALLED MARY at the paper to see if anybody had contacted the hotline number in response to her column.
“Nope, nobody, sugar. Not one call from a person at the Events Center. Nobody saw a thing.”
“With so many hundreds of people there,” said Farrell, “you’d wonder how in hell that was possible.”
“You would,” said Mary. “I was disappointed.”
“Don’t be, Mary, the human race is one big fuck-up. Don’t expect anything from them.”
“Okay, sweetheart, I won’t. Why don’t you call me after work and maybe we’ll go out for a drink?”
Every fuckin time he moved his left arm, the damaged muscle in his shoulder sent bolts of pain into his brain. Some days he could barely stand it. He needed more meds. “Sorry, Mar, I’m being a shit. I’ll call you later.”
Farrell ended his call to Mary wondering if he’d pissed her off with his bad mood. “I’ll make it up to her when I take her to the concert,” he mumbled to himself. His cell rang and it was Neil. “Got the tickets?”
“Not yet, but I’m in line. Something strange happened.”
“Like what?”
“I saw a woman in the park next to the ticket place and I been thinking about it and trying to figure out who she was. This is gonna sound crazy, Farrell.”
“A lot of stuff you say not only sounds crazy, but it is crazy, Neil. This won’t be no different.”
“Yeah, thanks for that. I knew I shouldn’t tell you.”
“Just tell me, Neil. I haven’t got all fuckin day.”
Neil spoke in a whisper. “I think it might have been Mom.”
“Who, Annie?”
“No. Our real Mom. What was her name again?”
“Rebecca, and no it wasn’t her, Neil. She’s probably hooking on some street corner in San Angelo. Forget it. Don’t even let that idea linger in your head.”
“This woman was making a drug buy, I’m pretty sure.”
“That’s why you thought it was her. She’s a meth head.”
“Okay, if you’re sure it wasn’t her.”
“Couldn’t be, bro,” said Farrell, “And even if it was her, I wouldn’t give her the fuckin time of day. She left us when we were kids and never came back. She gave us nothing.”
“Well, in a way, she gave us life, Farrell. You can’t argue with that.”
“Shit, Neil. Get the fuckin tickets and stop fuckin around.”
“I’m three people from the window.”
“Come to Blacky’s and I’ll pay you.”
BLAINE SAT on the floor of his office with the first box open in front of him. Pictures. Family pictures. Hundreds of them. He tried to sort them into piles, starting when he was an infant in his mother’s arms and then guessing how old he was in each of the others. In every snapshot with him growing up, his parents looked so happy. How was it possible that he didn’t recognize them couldn’t remember a single moment with his family?
Tears burned behind his eyes as he spent a few minutes on each one, then his vision blurred, and he couldn’t look at any more. His heart felt like it was breaking in half. He’d never imagined coming face to face with his past would be so hard.
He left the piles on the carpet, refilled his coffee in the kitchen, then joined Lily in her office. “How are the paint shops coming?”
“Whole whack of them, boss, and I have to call everyone and ask the same questions. I feel like a telemarketer with a script. I’m starting in Austin, then I’ll branch out.” She studied his face. “How are the boxes?”
“I have to leave them for today.”
A pained look crossed Lily’s beautiful face. Tall, blonde, gorgeous and extremely competent, Blaine was lucky to have her as his assistant. “I understand. Anything I can do to help?”
“Yep, when we get some free time, I need you to find a bunch of those old-fashioned photo albums for me. I want to catalogue the pictures and preserve them.”
“I think there’s a lady in Austin that does just that. She does the whole job and I’ve heard she’s careful. I’ll find her.”
Blaine nodded. “Didn’t know anybody did that, but fantastic if it’s true. It would save tons of time.” He looked at the lists on Lily’s desk. “I can take some of the paint shops, and I’ll help with the calling.”
Austin City Morgue.
TRAVIS WITNESSED the autopsy of the victim of the car-jacking at the Equestrian Center. Nothing new turned up. Blunt force trauma was the cause of death, which they already suspected. Probably a tire iron belonging to the jackers. No weapon found at the scene.
He left the morgue and sat in his truck for a minute to think things through. Ginny calling him the night before had thrown him off his game. He had his job back and had been working hard to put her into the past and get his life back on track, then here she was again, as beautiful as ever, needing him, calling him.
Travis gave Lily a call and nothing had turned up on the red Camaro yet. She was still calling, and the boss was helping her. The paint on the Camaro could have been a factory color, but Ginny thought it was brighter than that. Her knowledge of cars surprised him. Another thing he didn’t know about her—her deceased husband had been a car buff and they’d attended shows all over the country.
How many paint shops were there in Austin?
Travis pressed end and Ginny was on the line. “Hey, everything okay?”
“Fine, I’m in meetings all day with one of the hospital boards I’m on. Why don’t I make us dinner at my house when you’re finished work?”
“Okay, what time?”
“Let’s say seven thirty?”
“Uh huh. That will give me time to go home and clean up.”
“I forgot, you live out of town.”
“South-east, in La Grange.”
“Don’t drive all the way down there and back. Clean up at my place. This is nothing special, just you and me.”
“Okay, I’ll see you later.”
Damn it. Do I want to get messed up with her again?
Austin.
ANNIE NOTICED how quiet Neil was as they drove from downtown to Blaine’s house near East Cesar Chavez to drop off the tickets and pick up the money. “Everything okay, sugar? You’re not usually so quiet.”
“Tired from standing in the heat, Mom. Think I might be dehydrated. That’s all it is.”
“Okay.” She studied him across the console. “You look a little pale. I hope you’re not getting sick.”
When they parked in the driveway of Blaine’s huge Victorian, now doubling as his headquarters and his office, Annie turned off the engine and reached for the door handle. Neil made no move to get out. “Aren’t you coming in?”
Neil handed her the ticket envelope. “Can you do it, Mom? I want to stay here.”
“Enough, Neil. Tell me what’s going on. Why don’t you wa
nt to see Farrell?”
“He’s mad at me, Mom. I can’t tell you why.”
“So what? He’s mad at you and the rest of the world most of the time. He’ll still want to see you. Come on.”
Neil blew out a breath and opened the door of the truck.
In the spacious foyer that Blaine had restored to shades of its former elegance with a new marble floor and a huge crystal chandelier, he pulled Annie into his arms for a long hug. “Missed you, Mom. Stay for a beer and I’ll order food.”
“It’s a party,” said Annie. “We can stay for a while, can’t we Neil?”
“Sure, I guess so.”
Farrell came from the kitchen to hug Annie. He whispered into her hair, “Need to talk to you.”
Annie nodded but kept on into the kitchen to greet Carm and give her a hug. Blaine followed and sat down at the kitchen table.
“Why is Farrell mad at Neil?” she asked Blaine in a whisper.
FARRELL CORALLED NEIL into the front parlour Blaine had redone as a sitting room with leather furniture and antique side tables. He pointed at the sofa and Neil plopped down.
“You gonna lecture me, Farrell?”
Farrell pulled a chair close and spoke in a low voice. “No lecture, kiddo. Here it is. I don’t want you getting all keyed up for finding your birth mother and then getting heart-broke when it doesn’t happen.”
“She’s your birth mother too.”
“I know that, but I don’t want to find her and go through all the emotional garbage a reunion would involve. Especially for you. You get so attached, and she’s bound to be one messed up woman after all this time. Pain would be the name of the game if you went that route. That’s why I’m against it.”
“You’re protecting me?”
“Damn right. Protecting you from yourself, Neil. You are a vulnerable kid on the verge of a great baseball career, and I don’t want all you’ve worked for to go down the fuckin drain.”
“And finding our mother would ruin my life?”
Farrell’s blue eyes were ice cold. “Better safe than sorry.”
“I wasn’t gonna do anything, Farrell. Just telling you what I saw, or thought I saw.”
Farrell nodded his blond head. “Keep it that way, Neil. Do nothing.”
Cherokee Junction.
BECCA PARKED in Harlan’s empty spot and climbed the treacherous wooden stairs to his door. No keys involved, Harlan was a trusting soul and there was no lock on the door, just a slide bolt on the inside.
She walked across the room to the bed and dumped the product out of her purse. She’d used all her savings and bought enough for two weeks—meth and coke. Glancing around the sparsely furnished apartment, she wondered if there was a safe spot to keep her stash. Getting robbed was always a possibility in the drug trade if people got a hint of a stash unattended. They were like starving bloodhounds searching for a piece of raw meat.
A knock on the door startled her and she peeked out the window to make sure it was Harlan on the landing. She released the bolt and let him in.
He gave her a grin, pulled her close and kissed her. “You had the door locked, baby. Were you scared?”
“Nope, brought my big stash back from Austin and don’t know where to hide it. I’ll take what I can sell tonight with me to the roadhouse, but the rest has to be hidden some place safe. I used all the money I had.”
“Guess a lock on the door might be a start,” said Harlan. “I never had anything worth stealing since I lived here, and my buddy, Willis, is a good watchdog. Folks are scared green of him. They might not set foot on his property.”
“Oh, yeah? I don’t think I know him.”
“He don’t go out much. I’ll introduce you, so he won’t think you’re trespassing on his turf.”
“Uh huh, that might be a good idea.”
“Let me run across to the hardware and I’ll get us a decent lock set. Won’t take me long. The only people with keys will be you and me.” He grinned. “I like the sound of that.”
Becca tipped her head up and kissed him. “You are so sweet, Harlan. I love you more every day.”
“Bolt the door after me.”
While Harlan was gone, Becca checked the mini-fridge and found that he’d bought groceries. Something Mason had never done in his whole wasted life. She made ham and cheese sandwiches and started a pot of coffee.
A knock came on the door and thinking it was Harlan, she pulled the bolt and opened the door.
Mason charged in, his black and blue face something out of a zombie movie. His lips were moving, and words were coming out, but she couldn’t understand him.
“Get out of here, Mason. Harlan will be back in a second.”
He shoved her backwards with such force, she stumbled and fell against the coffee table. Before she could scramble to her feet, Mason punched her in the stomach, then grabbed her by the hair and held on while he punched her in the face and neck.
Becca gagged for breath and slumped to the floor. She saw Mason scooping her product from the bed and couldn’t move. She couldn’t stop him.
“Nice big buy, Becca. This will keep my customers happy.”
My customers.
The door slammed shut and Mason was gone. Becca closed her eyes and passed out on the floor.
Austin.
TRAVIS FILLED out reports for himself and for Farrell and caught up on paperwork before leaving the Agency after six. He turned up the air in his truck and fought through commuter traffic as he headed west out of the city towards Ginny’s place in the hills.
All the while he drove, he wrestled with the idea of getting involved with her again. Last time he’d been sucked in by her looks, her intelligence, and the fact that she would soon be governor was kind of a turn on too. But could he love her like man to woman kind of love? He didn’t think so. He’d never be on her level and he wasn’t into trying to be something he wasn’t. Didn’t have the clothes for it, for one thing. One suit for funerals—that was it. State dinners? They knew where they could stick that bullshit. Couldn’t do the boy-toy thing. Couldn’t do it.
It’ll never be the way I feel about Annie.
Her Jag wasn’t in the driveway when he arrived, and he sure didn’t have a key. He would never want one, and what did that tell him? He shouldn’t even be here. Blacky was pissed that Ginny had called him and for good reason. The woman turned him inside out.
Travis parked, got out of his truck and walked once around the house checking security. The house had to be ten or twenty years old, but the windows looked new. When he returned to his truck Gene Wyman was standing there waiting for him.
Ginny’s head of security was a short, stocky guy with slicked back black hair and dark eyes. He worked for the state and he and his team of four usually wore dark suits.
“Oh, it’s you, Major Bristol. Didn’t recognize your truck.”
“Doctor Rodriguez invited me for dinner, but she’s not here yet and I’m early.”
His cell rang, and it was her. “Sorry, Travis, I’m not finished. We’re breaking for dinner then working late. I apologize.”
“No problem. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
He pressed end and said to Gene, “She’s still at the hospital.”
“What do you know about the guy watching her?” asked Gene. “Make any headway on the car?”
“She told you about that?”
“Of course. What good am I or my team if we don’t know what we’re protecting her from?”
“Bright red Camaro parked across the street,” said Travis. “Lily is searching the paint and body shops hoping to find something.”
“That’s all you’ve got?”
Travis shrugged. “That’s it.”
Cherokee Junction.
MASON JOGGED down the stairs from Harlan’s apartment, jumped into the Camaro and tossed the drugs onto the passenger seat. He revved up the big engine and roared down Ash street. As he skidded around the corner onto Main, he caught a glimpse of his bro
ther coming out of the hardware. He laughed, cranked up the volume on the CD and headed for the highway.
He’d make a killing selling Becca’s product at the trailer park, and tomorrow night him and Nate would be back in business grabbing cars. Life was good.
Half an hour later Mason cruised through Austin. He pulled his ball cap a little lower to hide the mess on his face, in case the babe got a look at him. Virginia, that was her name. Wonder if I can call her Ginny when we’re in the sack? He got an erection as he drove just thinking about it.
What a body she has. Can’t wait to see her naked.
Just after dark Mason cruised into her hillside neighborhood on a high. He had formulated a plan in his head. If she was home, he’d sit outside and watch the house, but if she wasn’t home, he’d break in and have a look around. Get to know her a little better. If he found out something she liked, he’d buy her a gift and send it to her. Make her wonder.
Coming up the street, he could see her driveway and his plans blew up. A black SUV was parked close to the house and two guys in black suits were leaning on the truck smoking.
Mason floored the gas and kept going.
Cherokee Junction.
HARLAN CAME back from the hardware store with the new lock and found Becca lying on the floor. The bag clunked to the floor as he leaned down and scooped her up. He carried her across the room and placed her gently on the bed. “Mason did this, didn’t he?”
Becca nodded. “He stole my stash.”
“I’ll kill the son of a bitch,” hollered Harlan.
He dampened a cloth in the bathroom, cleaned Becca’s face up and tucked her into bed. “Stay here and don’t let anybody in until I come back.”
Cherokee Trailer Park.
HARLAN PARKED his truck around the side of Mason’s trailer where the Camaro’s headlights wouldn’t hit it when his brother drove in. He sat in the shadows under a cottonwood tree, smoking and thinking about killing his brother. The time had come for Mason to leave this earth. Mason had lost his mind and he was messing up all their lives. Nate agreed. Mason had flipped his switch.