by JR Thompson
“Oh, I didn’t realize it was my turn to speak yet,” he said calmly before turning and casually walking to the boys’ section to do some shelf straightening after the big day. Nikki followed him. Standing behind him, she crossed her arms and presented him with the most evil look she knew how to give. She didn’t say a word. She waited for his response, but he refused to give her one. They didn’t speak a word to one another until the unthinkable happened.
About an hour after Collin’s shift began, he was working the register while Nikki was inventorying their stock. An elderly couple placed a pair of girls’ tennis shoes on the counter. “Do you accept Hawaiian money?” the man asked, while leaning his cane against the counter.
Hawaiian money? When I was in training, no one had ever gone over anything with me about what to do when someone wanted to pay with a foreign currency. To Collin, it seemed obvious that if you enter another country, you should get your money exchanged for that nation’s currency.
He asked the customer to hold on for a moment while he conferred with a colleague. He went back to Nikki. “Sorry to bother you,” he said. “I’ve got some customers out here who are trying to pay with Hawaiian money. I don’t know what to do.”
With a puzzled look on her face, Nikki accompanied Collin to the front of the store, “I’m sorry folks, we only accept American currency. Do you have a credit or debit card you could use for this transaction?”
The man’s wife couldn’t keep a straight face any longer; she burst into laughter. The man followed suit. The couple left the shoes on the counter and walked out the door, laughing and poking fun at the incompetent sales people who didn’t realize that Hawaii was a part of the fifty United States of America and used the same currency as the rest of the nation.
Somehow the humiliation experienced simultaneously by both Collin and Nikki diffused the tension between them. For the next fifteen or twenty minutes they talked about how foolish they must have looked in front of the elderly couple and about how funny it was that people of their age would come into Just Right simply for the purpose of making them look like idiots.
Eventually, however, the conversation grew stale and Collin decided it was time to let Nikki in on what had happened the day before. She seemed to absorb everything he said until he got to the part about waking up in the dumpster.
Her mouth appeared to come unhinged. Her jaw dropped further than would appear humanly possible, she brought her hand up to her chin and pretended to be pushing her jaw back in place. “Well, shut my mouth!” she said. “You’re a bigger bonehead than I thought. You actually went into Duke Masselli’s crib? And alone?”
“I know, I know. It was a stupid thing to do. I don’t know what I was thinking.”
“Did they run out of brains on the day you were born, Collin? For crying out loud, didn’t your momma ever teach you to think before you act?”
Collin laughed, “Sorry, Mommy. It won’t happen again.”
“Sorry isn’t good enough, Little Collin. Momma ought to whoop your behind!” she teased. “Instead, for your punishment, you’re going to take my place until I say so. I covered you yesterday. Now it’s your turn to cover me.” Nikki grabbed her purse out from under the counter and put it on her shoulder.
“What’s that supposed to mean? Where are you going?” Collin asked.
“I’ll see you in a bit… maybe,” Nikki giggled, before leaving the store.
CHAPTER 21 – FINAL WARNING
Even though Nikki thought Collin was crazy for putting himself in danger, she found herself being sucked into his mystery — it was time for her to become a bit of a fact-checker.
Let’s see here. Brock is trying to make it look like Victoria is the one who is off her rocker. That seemed like a great place to begin, especially since her baby brother worked at the courthouse.
She wasted no time in driving downtown and finding the records room. She laughed when she saw Chet. “Aren’t you adorable in your little penguin suit,” she teased.
Chet was all business. “Nice to see you Nikki. What brings you here?” he asked.
Nikki could tell where humor was or wasn’t wanted. She moved past the small talk and got right to the point, requesting any records he could pull up on Victoria Pearson. Chet told her to have a seat and he would be back with her momentarily.
Nikki watched him intently as he walked into a back room. She hadn’t talked to Chet for at least six months. It was hard to believe he had grown up into such a fine looking young man. Not only was he dressed in a three-piece suit, but his shoes were shined and he didn’t have a single hair out of place. He still had his baby blue eyes and his dimples still accentuated his captivating smile. If he wasn’t my brother, I might be interested in that, Nikki thought for a second, before realizing how vile her own thought process had become.
Several minutes later, Chet returned with a printout, “Here’s everything we have on her. Hope this helps.”
Nikki looked over the documentation. On her first self-assigned fact checking assignment, it appeared that Brock was telling the truth. Victoria had indeed been arrested multiple times in the past and she had undeniably been on home confinement.
She looked over the paperwork for a few minutes and then it dawned on her — “Chet, while I’m here can you look up one more thing for me?”
“Sure. What do you need?” he asked.
“See if you can find out who owns the Duke’s crib down on Spudd Avenue.”
“Do you know the address by any chance?” Chet asked her.
“No. Sorry, dawg,” Nikki replied.
Chet told her that was okay. He was probably going to have to make a couple of phone calls — property deeds weren’t really something his department specialized in. Several minutes and a few phone calls later, Chet handed her another printout.
On her second round of fact checking, it turned out Brock had provided some false information. He had claimed he was planning to rent out the place from the guy who had inherited it — according to the paperwork she received from the courthouse, the property had never been inherited by anyone. Duke Masselli still owed a lot of money on the property when he died; the finance company had taken it back and had held possession of it ever since.
Feeling accomplished, Nikki left the courthouse and headed over to the library. The elderly librarian was washing the windows when she walked in. “Can I help you find anything?” the lady asked.
Nikki was smart enough to know she couldn’t just come right out and ask if Brock had been there. She had to be more creative than that.
“Do you all have computers the public can use for research purposes?”
“We sure do. Follow me,” the lady said with a smile.
When they arrived at the computer center, Nikki was thrilled when she was asked to sign in on an old-fashioned logbook. If she had to sign in, Brock would have had to do the same thing. She convinced the librarian she was excellent with computers and could figure things out from there on her own. She signed in, with the librarian watching, and then proceeded to sit down in front of one of the computers.
The librarian left the area and went back to her window-washing duties.
As soon as the coast was clear, Nikki returned to the logbook and began shuffling through pages. Sure enough, Brock had been there, just like he said he had been. There was just one slight problem. According to the logbook, Brock had only been there for an hour.
Well, poop on my boots!
She returned to the computer and went online, where she did a search for “Brock Pearson + Harmony High School.” In a matter of seconds, an interesting headline appeared on her screen. “Local Contractor, Brock Pearson, Fired From Harmony High For Misconduct.”
She clicked on the link to find a poorly written article that never told what the exact allegation was. She returned to the search engine. There we go. Another article on the same topic.
Not knowing if she really wanted to see what Brock was guilty of, she clicked on the li
nk and nervously waited for the page to load. Are you kidding me? It’s the same stupid article as on the other site.
Nikki tried several more searches, but couldn’t find any details as to why Brock had been let go. However, she found the fact that he had even worked at the high school to be a little on the creepy side.
Not wanting to leave Collin in the store alone too long, Nikki decided it was time to return and share her findings with him.
Things had been fairly slow at Just Right. Collin had found some time for having a one-on-one with God. He had prayed and asked God again for assurance that Brock was not going to hurt him or his family. Just like he had done at his special prayer place, he had placed his hands on the Bible while he prayed and asked God to comfort him with the scriptures.
When he flipped the Bible open this time, he began reading Psalm 27. The second verse said, “When the wicked, even mine enemies and my foes, came upon me to eat up my flesh, they stumbled and fell.”
Collin had been meditating on that verse for at least twenty minutes before Nikki arrived back at the store.
Nikki didn’t give him a chance to tell her about what he read in the Bible. She got straight to business, “Check this — I decided to do a little bit of investigative work myself. Brock and I are over; he is one shady dude if you ask me!”
◆◆◆
Nikki pulled out all of the documentation and began pouring over it, detail by detail. The whole time she rambled, Psalm 27:2 spun around and around in Collin’s mind. The verse had begun by speaking of the psalmist’s wicked enemy. Perhaps Nikki was right. Maybe Brock was a wicked individual. Maybe he was even secretly Collin’s enemy. The verse, if it did apply to Brock, clearly meant he was planning to attack Collin. There was a chance the poor, homeless, desperate man he had taken in was planning to kill him and eat his flesh. But that verse also provided hope. The psalmist had said when his enemy that planned on eating his flesh came, he stumbled and fell. If that was the case, there was nothing to worry about as far as his or his family’s safety was concerned.
If Brock is a cold-blooded murderer, he is going to slip up before he has a chance to hurt anyone in our household, Collin assured himself. That didn’t mean he didn’t want to know who was living in his house. It didn’t mean he didn’t care who was driving his vehicle around town. Collin wanted to know, desperately. However, at least with the hope given him by the scriptures, he would no longer have to live in fear. Everything is going to be okay.
While Collin’s thoughts and Nikki’s words were battling over who was going to keep Collin’s attention, the phone rang.
Collin answered, “Just Right Shoes, how may I help you?”
“Is this Collin?” A low, raspy, masculine voice asked.
“Yes it is. Who might this be?” Collin asked.
The raspy voice was replaced with a robotic sounding recording, “Happy Wednesday to you. You are not a very fast learner, are you Mr. Russell?”
“Who is this?” Collin asked again.
Nikki put her paperwork down and scooted closer, trying to hear what was being said on the other end of the phone.
“You have too many people putting their noses where they do not belong. You should have stuck to your footwear obsession, but no, you had to cross the line by immersing yourself in matters that did not concern you. We are going to give you one final warning — if any more investigating takes place, someone WILL get hurt.”
There was a brief pause and then the recording continued, “Incidentally, this phone call is not the warning we are referring to. You will recognize the warning when you see it. We offer no apologies. You can only blame yourself for what has or what is about to happen, Mr. Russell.”
The call disconnected before Collin had time to even process the threat that had been made against him. He stammered while trying to tell Nikki every word that had been spoken.
Collin and Nikki discussed the threats and whether or not they should contact the police. Neither one trusted law enforcement.
Nikki’s parents died when she was a little girl. Her parents were farmers and had no form of outside employment. One day, she and Chet went off to school like they normally did, and when they got home, they found both of their parents lying dead in the middle of a corn field. She ran inside and called the police, who claimed the cause of death was undetermined. Nikki and Chet had to move in with their grandparents. The property was sold shortly after her parents’ deaths — sold to the local chief of police. Coincidence? Nikki thought not.
Collin, on the other hand, had heard too many stories. Rumors of people disappearing from prisons, of crooked cops planting evidence on innocent individuals, and of judges and juries sentencing people to incarceration simply because they were pressured to do so.
Neither were big fans of the government and for good reason. They were quickly getting in over their heads. Something had to give — perhaps it would be best, they began to think, to just convince Brock to move on, and to forget anything had ever taken place.
After discussing possibilities, their conversation stayed pretty quiet until a few minutes prior to the end of their shift. That’s when one of those lovely last-minute shoppers came into the store. Well, Jake wasn’t really a shopper. He was known as the Clayville busybody. He wasn’t there to buy shoes; he came in simply to share some bit of news or perhaps a rumor he had heard — that’s what Jake did best.
“I think I know who placed the bomb,” he said, without even pretending to be interested in looking for a product.
“What bomb might that be?” Nikki asked.
“The one down at the school. It’s been all over the news for the last couple of hours. Nobody’s told you guys about it? You haven’t heard anything on the radio?”
“Which school, Jake? We don’t know what you’re talking about,” Collin said.
“Clayville Middle. A robotic voice called the guidance counsellor’s office and said, ‘If your students and faculty wish to live, they should depart from the building immediately. A bomb is scheduled to go off somewhere in your building in the near future.’ Even though they assumed it was an idle threat, they emptied out the school pretty quickly. All of the students and staff walked about three miles away from the building. By the time they arrived at their safety zone, the bomb squad had arrived at the school. It turned out, there really was a bomb. It was found inside of a boy’s locker. The most interesting thing is, there aren’t any finger prints on the locker. Even the boy’s prints aren’t on it. But I think I know who it was.”
Clayville Middle? The words rang loudly in Collin’s ears. That’s Remmy’s school. He tried not to panic, but how could he not? The robotic voice had called and threatened him. The same voice had called the school and reported a bomb being in a student’s locker at his son’s school. It sure didn’t sound like a coincidence.
CHAPTER 22 – DROPPING A BOMBSHELL
Before Jake could make his allegation known, Brock came in the door. “Hi Nikki,” he smiled, while giving her a wink.
Nikki rolled her eyes and walked away sheepishly.
“Is the damsel in distress?” Brock asked.
Jake didn’t hesitate to jump in, “I was just telling them about the bomb down at the school. I think it’s just too much for her.”
“Oh,” Brock said. He paused as if not sure how to respond to such a statement. “Well — shall we begin our journey to the house, Collin?”
Collin glanced at Nikki, who was giving everyone the cold shoulder. Then he made eye contact with Jake. If I ask him any more questions, I’ll never get out of here.
Quietly, yet quickly he made his way to the time clock and punched out. He took the keys from Brock and the two made their way back out to the Wagoneer.
As soon as they got in the Jeep, Brock began telling Collin all about his unsuccessful job hunting trip. He said he had spent the whole day putting in applications, but hadn’t landed a single interview. Several stores had told him they didn’t have any current
openings and he thought it might just be because he had already lost two jobs and perhaps he was getting a bad rap around Clayville.
“Probably has something to do with your shoes,” Collin remarked. “You haven’t cleaned them in at least a week. Shoes have a lot to say about a man.”
Brock turned and looked out the passenger side window without uttering a word. He should have saw that response coming.
All the way home, Collin thought about how odd it was that Brock didn’t seem interested in the bomb at Clayville Middle. He had noticed how when Jake brought it up, Brock didn’t ask any questions. Nor did he seem alarmed. It was like it was an everyday occurrence.
Collin drove a tad over the speed limit. He couldn’t wait to get home and make sure his little boy, his wife, and their house were safe and sound. He could only hope that bomb was the end of the warning his family would receive.
When they pulled up to the house, they were surprised to see the sheriff’s car parked in the driveway. No one was sitting in it, but the cruiser was idling.
Instead of being curious about what was going on, Brock said he was going to take a walk while Collin checked things out. He didn’t ask Collin’s opinion on the matter — he bolted as soon as he got out of the Jeep.
Inside, Collin found Alayna sitting quietly on the couch while the sheriff appeared to be questioning Remington.
“What’s going on?” Collin asked.
“Sir, there’s no easy way to say this,” the officer said. “A bomb was found in your son’s locker today. We’re trying to figure out how it got there.”
“You don’t think Remington put the bomb there?”
“I certainly hope not. However, I have to investigate all possibilities.”
Alayna silently mouthed, “Maybe we should tell him about Brock.”
Collin pretended he was unable to read her lips. He told the sheriff he would prefer his son not be questioned until they had time to hire an attorney.