Kaleidoscope

by Kristen Ashley

  “Well done, Emme,” he muttered distractedly, not really listening as he was suddenly remembering he was only wearing a towel, noting she only had on his shirt, and as she always played it that way, it was doubtful she had on any panties.

  “Jacob,” she called, and his eyes that had drifted to her lips, drifted up just as his hand drifted down her side.

  “Yeah, baby?”

  “Your oatmeal is on the kitchen counter,” she told him.

  He dropped his lips to her collarbone and slid his hand up the shirt at her hip then in over her belly. “It’s too hot to eat now.”

  “”Honey, we just finished,” she reminded him.

  “An hour ago,” he murmured against her throat.

  “I have to go to work.”

  “You can be late.”

  “I can’t.”

  “Your dad’s the boss,” he told her jaw.

  “Precisely why I can’t be late. He depends on me.”

  Deck lifted his head, looked down at her and at something she saw in his face, hers changed.

  And Deck liked that change.

  So he grinned and murmured, “Quick.”

  “Quick,” she whispered, already lifting her mouth to his.

  He didn’t make her go far.

  * * *

  One hour later…

  Deck and Buford stood in his garage watching Emme pull out.

  But she stopped in the driveway, rolled down her window and stuck her head out.

  “Persephone!” she yelled.

  Deck smiled huge and tipped his chin up at her.

  Before she left, after he’d kissed her and she climbed up in her Bronco, they’d had words about her truck’s name, now with her word being the last.

  Her head disappeared but he saw she was smiling through the windshield. She waved after she turned out of his drive and before she rode away.

  Yeah. Emme’s light was beaming, unrestricted.

  And blinding.

  Deck looked down to his dog. “How you likin’ this Emme, pal?”

  Buford’s tongue lolled and his tail started wagging.

  He liked her before so the point was moot.

  Deck bent, gave Buford a rubdown, and as he was straightening, his phone rang.

  He pulled it out of his back pocket and saw the display said “Chace calling.”

  “Yo, man,” he greeted, at the same time moving toward the button that would close the garage door.

  He was facing computer work that day. That afternoon, with no other options open to him as nothing was leading to anything with Prosky, staking out the high school. Then off to look at dogs.

  Not a fun day, until the end.

  “Where are you?” Chace asked, and his voice made Deck stop thinking about his shit day that at least would end well, and he stopped dead.

  “At home. Why?” he answered.

  There was nothing from Chace for a long moment before he asked, “Those prints you gave me to run, where’d you get those again?”

  Deck’s blood turned cold right before it ran hot.

  Not hot the way Emme made him feel.

  Hot the way he felt that night Chace had told him Faye was buried alive.

  “Why?” he asked back.

  “Just tell me, Deck.”

  “My nightstand,” Deck answered tersely and again got silence. He moved to the garage door button, hit it, the door started sliding down and he and Buford moved into the house as he pressed, “Chace. Talk to me.”

  “I’m gonna preface this by sayin’, we’re on this. I’m callin’ it in to Mick and—”

  “Stop fuckin’ with me. Say it,” Deck growled.

  He heard a sigh then, “Three prints you lifted and gave me to run. Yours. Those belonging to Emme, probably in the system because they were put there sometime after she was kidnapped. And Dane McFarland’s.”

  Deck instantly turned on his boot and started back toward his garage.

  “Deck, listen to me—” Chace began.

  “Jerkoff’s been in my house,” Deck bit out.

  “Man, seriously. Listen.”

  He kept Buford back with a foot, entered the garage, closed the door and hit the button again for the door to go up.

  “Emme was pissed, went off on one, took her shit, left,” Deck shared. “He was following her, Chace. She asked Donna to look after Buford. Donna told me the security system had not been engaged the first time she came in after Emme. He got in,” Deck told him.

  He yanked the door of his truck open and swung in.

  “Do not lose your cool,” Chace warned.

  “There is no cool in this, Chace. That asshole has been in my house. He took my fuckin’ kaleidoscope.”

  Chace sounded confused when he asked, “Your what?”

  “My kaleidoscope. That box I kept on the mantel?” Deck asked, shoving his key in the ignition.

  “Sorry, Deck, I don’t—”

  “There’s a kaleidoscope in it. Emme gave it to me.”

  Just turn the dial.

  Deck closed his eyes.

  McFarland had a piece of his Emme.

  That fucking asshole.

  He clenched his jaw and opened his eyes.

  “How would McFarland know that?” Chace asked.

  “How the fuck do I know?” Deck shot back.

  Truck running, he threw it in reverse, looked over his shoulder and started backing out.

  “Let Mick handle this,” Chace stated.

  “I will. Then I’ll handle it,” Deck returned.

  “Deck—”

  He hit the brakes before his truck hit the street and he focused on his steering wheel but his mind was focused somewhere else.

  “He’s followin’ her.”

  “You don’t know that,” Chace replied. “He could have followed you there. Stewed on it, got a wild hair, thought to fuck with you, came back, found the security system disengaged and didn’t waste an opportunity. Then he took something that looked like it meant something to you.”

  “Either way is uncool,” Deck noted.

  “It is, but stand down and let Mick deal with it.”

  “He gets him first. I get him after.”

  “Is anything else missing?” Chace asked.

  “Nothin’. Looked, that’s it,” Deck answered shortly.

  “Fuckin’ with you,” Chace stated.

  “So I fuck back,” Deck returned.

  “Deck, we got a case against this asshole, do not fuck it up for a kaleidoscope.”

  Just turn the dial.

  He didn’t turn the fucking dial.

  Not for a long time.

  Then he did. He’d turned the dial.

  You’re everything to me.

  And found beauty.

  “I won’t fuck up the case,” Deck assured Chace, hitting the garage door remote, he reversed into the street.

  “You’re pissed and even you pissed, your judgment can be impaired.”

  “I won’t fuck up the case,” Deck repeated, disconnected, tossed his phone on the seat beside him and hit the gas.

  * * *

  Five and a half hours later…

  Sitting in the middle of the couch, Deck heard the door open.

  He didn’t move.

  Seconds later, he watched him round the corner from the entry hall into the living space of the condo.

  Deck knew he’d been picked up and interviewed while the Gnaw Bone PD searched his house for a kaleidoscope they did not find. During his interview, he likely gave bullshit excuses, and with no material evidence, he was set loose.

  Now he was Deck’s.

  Rounding the corner, impossible to miss, Dane McFarland saw him.

  “Jesus, what the fuck?” McFarland hissed.

  “Your life right now is shit,” Deck started. “Your sentence will be a nickel, you’ll do two years.”

  “You can’t be in my house,” McFarland declared, taking two steps toward Deck.

  Deck straightened from the co
uch, McFarland’s head tipped back as he did, and he stopped moving toward Deck.

  “You give me back what you took from me, we’ll leave it at that,” Deck stated. “You play games with me, that time when you get out and set about puttin’ your life back together will be the time when you really begin to feel the pain.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about,” McFarland snapped.

  “You know exactly what I’m talkin’ about and you got three seconds to produce it,” Deck returned.

  McFarland leaned toward him. “You can’t break into my house and threaten me.”

  “I can. I did. You don’t give me what’s mine, I’ll do more. You do not want to know what more I can do but I’ll give you a teaser. You will never get another job. You will never have another credit card. You’ll never own another car. You’ll never lay another woman. You’ll never find another house. You’ll never have another friend. You will be alone, broke and broken and you’ll wish like all fuck you handed over right now what you took from me.”

  “Jesus, you’re whacked,” McFarland whispered, staring up at Deck.

  “I’m a man who does not like his house violated and his things stolen. Now you got three.”

  “You can’t do all that shit,” McFarland retorted.

  “Your ass landed in jail ’cause I got deputized and put you there. Task force investigating for six months, I had you there within days. So you’re wrong. I can do all that shit. And trust me, you don’t want to test that. Now, that’s one.”

  McFarland’s eyes got big and he murmured, “That’s impossible.”

  “County records will show the sheriff had a subcontract. That subcontract was me. Now, that’s two.”

  “Sheriff departments don’t subcontract,” he spat.

  “They did with me, and, just sayin’, I nailed you and I also got Prosky. Your boss is going down.” He leaned forward. “Now that’s three.”

  He was bluffing about Prosky, trying to rattle McFarland.

  It was a good bluff.

  Not surprisingly, considering he was a fucking moron, McFarland gave it away. His Adam’s apple bobbed and his eyes widened before going shifty.

  They still had nothing on him, but now Deck knew the boss of that crew was Prosky.

  “Give it to me, I’ll make certain no one knows you ratted out Prosky,” Deck told him.

  “I didn’t rat out Jon!” McFarland cried and there it was, panic and proof.

  Prosky was the leader.

  “He’ll think you did, you don’t give it to me,” Deck said.

  McFarland shook his head. “You can’t do that, man.”

  Deck’s brows went up. “You took something that means something to me, broke into my house and took it, and you think I can’t fuck with you?”

  “It’s just a fuckin’ kaleidoscope.” McFarland was now jittery.

  There it was.

  Motherfucker.

  “Emme gave it to me and I want it back,” Deck returned and McFarland’s body stilled, his lip curled and his eyes narrowed on Deck.

  “I know. Followed her to your place, she didn’t lock the door, got in behind her, wanted to know why she was all fired up to jump straight to you after she got shot of me.” His sneer deepened before he finished, “Nice pool, man.”

  Deck stared at him, wondering where Buford was during this scenario.

  But he knew.

  Buford was on the scent of strawberries.

  “Saw her clutchin’ it to her chest like it was her baby,” McFarland went on. “So, yeah. I know it meant something to Emme. An Emme you fuckin’ stole from me.”

  Deck said nothing. Deck was dealing with this man following his woman, entering his home when Emme was there, and the knowledge that Emme, feeling betrayed by him, held the piece of art she gave him to her chest when she packed her shit and left his house.

  But McFarland was still jittery.

  “Dude, you cannot tell Jon I ratted him out. You can’t tell any of them that shit. They’re totally pissed about the ring—”

  “You need to stop talking,” Deck rumbled.

  McFarland took a good look at his face and snapped his mouth shut.

  Deck took a breath in through his nose.

  Then he ordered, “Right now, get me what you took from me.”

  He immediately started looking even more jittery.

  Fuck.

  “I can’t,” McFarland whispered, and Deck had a feeling he knew why.

  Pain seared through his chest.

  His voice was low and dangerous when he asked, “Why?”

  McFarland took a cautious step back before he answered, “I buried it at the bottom of your trash.”

  Deck sucked in another breath, this one sharper, and McFarland took another step back.

  That bin had been wheeled out five times since the kaleidoscope went missing.

  It was gone.

  Just turn the dial.

  His eyes focused sharply on McFarland.

  “Every day,” Deck whispered, “for the rest of your life, you will remember putting that kaleidoscope in the trash.”

  McFarland carefully threw his hands out to the sides. “I didn’t know it was that big of a deal. It’s just a bunch of glass.”

  “You knew,” Deck replied.

  “I—”

  “Shut up, now, or I’ll give you something else to remember.”

  McFarland snapped his mouth shut.

  Deck stared at him and he did this a long time, utilizing everything he had to stop himself from pounding the shit out of that… fucking… asshole.

  Just turn the dial.

  “You’re lucky I have her,” Deck stated. “Now you are gonna call Mick Shaughnessy and tell him every fuckin’ thing you know about Jon Prosky, those robberies and anything you got involving high school kids. When you do, you are not gonna use it to bargain for a plea. You’re gonna do it simply out of civic duty.”

  McFarland’s voice rose when he asked, “Why would I do shit like that?”

  Deck leaned toward him and he took another step back. This one was quick.

  “Because,” Deck started, “you wanna be inside. You wanna be where I cannot fuck with you and you wanna be there for as long as you can be there. ’Cause when you get out, your years inside are gonna be your last happy memory.”

  “Jesus. It was a just kaleidoscope, man,” McFarland said uneasily.

  “It was her tellin’ me she needed me and me not hearin’ that shit. It was just her,” Deck gritted. “It was all I had of her for nine years, starin’ me in the face, tellin’ me she needed me. And I didn’t fuckin’ listen, asshole. So I wanted that piece of beauty she gave me always to be a reminder to look after my Emme. And I wanted to give it to our daughter’s husband so I could use it to educate him about lookin’ after my baby. And you took all that when you took it away from me.”

  “I was… I was just pissed that you—”

  “Shut… the fuck… up,” Deck growled. “Get on the fuckin’ phone now and call fuckin’ Mick… Shaughnessy.”

  “Prosky will fuck me up worse,” McFarland informed him, but Deck shook his head.

  “Oh no he won’t.”

  “He will. That guy seems like a nice guy but he’s got a mission, man, and he’s focused. And anyone would think that mission is whacked, but you knew, you’d know it’s a good one and he’s committed to it,” McFarland shot back, now way beyond jittery.

  “He might fuck you up. But,” Deck took a long quick stride forward, lifted a hand and shoved his index finger hard in McFarland’s forehead, pushing off, and McFarland went back on a foot, “I’ll fuck with your head. I will not stop until you have nothing and I’ll keep going until you lose the last thing you got, not that it’s worth much, your fuckin’ mind. Now, motherfucker, do not try me further.” He bent in, McFarland leaned back, Deck lost it and roared, “Call Shaughnessy!”

  On the last syllable, they both turned to the door that they heard thrown open.


  Not a second later, a scruffy, pimple-faced kid who couldn’t be older than seventeen and looked freaked right the fuck out rushed in.

  “He took a girl!” he shrieked, and Deck’s heart stopped beating.

  “Wade, what the fuck are you doing here?” McFarland shouted, eyes going back and forth between the kid and Deck.

  “No, dude, no, no, no…” the kid chanted, rushing up to McFarland and grabbing his arm. “Jon’s back, dude, and it’s bad. He’s pissed. He’s pissed at everybody. And dude, he’s totally pissed at you. He’s off the freakin’ reservation. He totally has this girl! Emmitt and Bryan are totally freaked!”

  “A high school girl?” Deck asked.

  The kid shook his head even as he looked to Deck and asked back, “Who are you?”

  Deck didn’t answer.

  He clipped, “Did he take a high school kid?”

  The kid looked him from top to toe and wisely decided to answer.

  “No, she’s an older lady. Like, your age.”

  “Her name?” Deck pushed.

  “No clue,” the kid answered. “Too freaked to pay attention. I just wanted to get out of there.”

  “What does she look like?” Deck asked.

  “I don’t know. She was like, normal. Pretty.”

  And dude, he’s totally pissed at you.

  Fuck, please God, tell him, because McFarland was gagging for her, Prosky wouldn’t take Emme.

  “What does she look like?” Deck repeated.

  “I told you. Normal. Pretty.”

  “What does she look like?” Deck barked, and both Wade and McFarland jumped.

  “Brown hair, like… long. Some, like, streaks in it. She’s tall. Weird eyes—” the kid started to say fast.

  Fuck. Fuck!

  He had fucking Emme.

  “Where is she?” Deck bit out.

  “She’s… she was at Jon’s place but he was movin’ her.” Wade looked to McFarland. “That’s how I got away. I slipped out when they were movin’ her. You gotta do somethin’, Dane. That’s whacked. You gotta talk to him. When he got intense, you were the only one who could talk to him.”