by Talty, Jen
“I didn’t see anything. I was asleep,” Andy said behind a clenched jaw.
“I’m worried about your aunt since this isn’t the first time something like this has happened.”
“She’s a big girl.” Andy’s gaze darted from Frank to the kitchen and back again.
“So she is, but I’d hate for something to happen to her…or to you.”
“She’s not going to sleep with you, if that’s what you’re after.” Andy’s face turned redder before slowly draining of color. “I think she’s into girls, if you know what I mean.”
Frank forced his laugh to remain in his throat. Was the kid protecting his aunt from the big bad cop? He ran his hand over his mouth before speaking. “Right now, the only thing I’m after is the person who put that rock in your kitchen.” And your bastard father.
“I didn’t see anything, but I doubt it was my father. Not his style.”
“What is his style?” Frank asked in a low voice. Even though it would appear Andy didn’t like his father much, he could still have some loyalties to him.
“He just wouldn’t do that.” Andy’s eyes shifted to the floor. “Don’t you find my aunt hot and all that?”
Frank peered over his shoulder. Reese and another trooper had bagged the evidence and were now talking with Lacy. “She’s hot, but that’s not the point.” Why did Andy keep trying to steer the conversation away from his father?
“So you admit it. The only reason you’re here is to be with her.” Andy flung his feet back up on the couch, leaned his head back, and started flipping through the channels again.
“I’m here because someone vandalized your home. I’d like to help you.” Frank tried to keep his frustration in check. The kid certainly could engage an argument about something entirely different from the topic of conversation.
“Can you get Ricky off my back?” Andy lowered the volume on the television as he shifted to the end of the sofa. For a brief moment, he made eye contact before averting his gaze back to the television.
“That depends on what the problem is.” Intrigued by the sudden shift again, Frank moved to his knees and sat on the floor, which was actually more comfortable than the chair. “Why do you owe him anything?”
“He fronted me some money.”
What was this? The mini-mob? “Why do you need money?” Frank rolled his neck, and reminded himself that patience was a virtue. One he didn’t possess, but should. He’d had three different threads within one conversation, and it annoyed the hell out of him that he let a kid control which thread they discussed.
“I hired someone to…to, you know, off somebody.”
“You did what?” Frank inhaled sharply. “You can’t be serious. You actually contracted someone?” Who did the kid want to kill? It couldn’t be Lacy, could it? No. He was excessively protective of her. That left Taylor, and Andy seemed to be indifferent to him, which actually might make sense.
“Well, um, not really. My aunt found the money before I could actually…well, you know, make the deal. But she won’t give it back, which is why I’m in deep shit with Ricky.”
“How much are we talking?” Frank let out a long breath. The last thing he needed was to deal with some wannabe hit man hired by a messed up eleven-year-old.
“A thousand.”
“Kid, I hate to tell you this, but it would cost a lot more than that.” If he wanted to get a professional, but there were any number of idiots out there who would do it for less than the going price, especially a punk kid. “Got a name for me?” He searched his pocket for a roll of antacids, but came up empty handed.
Andy shook his head, his eyes wide with fear. “You on the take?”
Frank really needed to do something about this kid’s overactive brain. Channel his energies somewhere else. “Who’s the target?” But first, he’d have to figure out how to deal with the new set of problems the kid had created.
“None of your business.”
“You realize you just confessed to a crime? I could read you your rights and cuff you right now.”
“I didn’t actually hire anyone, so I didn’t do anything wrong.” The kid sat up again. His face was white, but otherwise Andy didn’t show any sign of fear. Frank had to give him some credit for looking him in the eye. “Besides, kids lie all the time. You know, for attention.”
Smart kid. “You confessed to wanting to cause bodily harm to another human, but I’ll let it go if you tell me why you want your dad out of the picture.” Frank held his breath hoping he’d hit pay dirt with his guess that the target had been Andy’s dad and not some random guy Frank had yet to uncover.
Andy rose and paced across the already worn carpet. He scratched his head as if he were deep in thought. “I can’t tell you.”
Frank slowly rose. “You can trust me.” Come on, kid, tell me. I know you want to.
“You don’t understand,” Andy whispered.
“I want to.” Frank rose and took a tentative step toward the boy. He could almost feel the fear etched in Andy’s face. “I can protect you and your aunt. All you have to do is tell me what’s on your mind.”
“No! You can’t protect us and I’m not telling you shit.” Andy bolted past him, shoving him aside, yelling a few choice profanities as he slammed the bedroom door shut behind him.
“That went well.” Frank stared at the door for a moment searching his pockets for something to pop in his mouth, but once again found nothing. That kid knew something and Frank intended to find out what.
“What the hell did you say to him?” Lacy appeared at Frank’s side, arms folded across her chest and her brows pinched together. She didn’t look much happier than the kid did, but Frank somehow thought her bite might be worse than her bark.
“I think you have a bigger problem than you thought.” He rubbed the back of his neck, but nothing could rid the tension in his muscles. “Reese?”
“Yo.” Reese stepped into the family room.
“Your friend Brad still do PI stuff?”
“Yeah, why?”
“She’d like to hire him.”
“I’ll make the call,” Reese said. “Catch you around.”
“Someone want to tell me what the hell is going on here? I don’t need a PI, nor can I afford one,” Lacy said.
Momentarily ignoring her, Frank shook Reese’s hand, waved to the other trooper and watched them leave, trying to figure out the best way to inform her that her nephew planned on ‘offing’ his father. Better yet, how was he going to find out why?
“You better start talking, buster.” Lacy poked his shoulder.
Very slowly, Frank turned to face Lacy’s wrath. He got the distinct impression that this woman could be faster than a speeding bullet when she got going. He held his hand out, but she started yapping, so he gently covered her lips, hoping she wouldn’t bite. “Can I speak now?” Reluctantly, he removed his hand from her soft, luscious lips.
“Only if you’re going to do some serious explaining about what the hell just happened here.”
He glanced around the trailer. When he’d been here back in May, he hadn’t gotten much of a chance to see the inside since Hannah had forced him to stay at the door, but not much had changed from what he could remember. The only real difference was that Hannah was dead and Frank was partially to blame. Why didn’t he have any antacids with him? Hell, even gum would help. Lacy continued to glare at him as if he’d grown horns.
“Start explaining or leave,” she said behind pursed lips.
Explain what? Nothing about Hannah’s case had been cut and dry. There were too many contradicting stories about what had happened that night, but one fact remained. There was no compelling evidence that indicated foul play. Just his gut.
And his guilt.
“Lacy,” he began, “this guy Brad can do things I can’t.”
“I don’t understand; what does that have to do with a stupid rock tossed through a window?”
“I’m not sure that’s all it was, but I ha
ve to follow the law to the letter. Brad doesn’t. He can help you in ways I can’t.”
“I still don’t get it, and I don’t want your help or his.” She pointed to the door.
“Then why did you call me tonight?”
She opened her mouth but said nothing. After folding her arms across her chest once again, she clamped her mouth closed and looked everywhere but at him.
“So, tell me, when was the last time Taylor had contact with Andy?” He’d won this round, but wasn’t sure he’d win the next one.
Lacy leaned against the doorjamb between the kitchen and family room. She ran her fingers through her light brown hair, curling it with her index finger once she got to the end of the stand, and then repeated the motion. “Why do you need to know?”
“I’m trying to help you keep Andy,” he said with frustration laced in his voice. Why was this such a difficult concept for the woman to grasp? “I’m on your side.”
“I don’t see how you can help my custody battle with Taylor.”
“Work with me by answering a few simple questions. How long have you been taking care of Andy?”
“Since the first of June.”
“Who did he stay with after his mother died?”
“At first they put him in a foster home, but I got a court order. For now, I have temporary custody.” She continued to hug her middle, resting her head against the doorway.
“Has Taylor given you a hard time from day one?” Frank peered over Lacy’s shoulder. He could see three doors, indicating that maybe Andy had his own room. He’d like to see what Andy had in that room, might help him decipher Andy’s mental state. Either way, Lacy had a right to know what she was dealing with.
“When I first got here, he was really withdrawn. Scared of his own shadow, but still kind of testy. It’s just gotten worse of late.”
“I don’t know how to tell you this.”
“Whatever it is, would you just say it? All this babble is driving me nuts.”
He adjusted his stance and prepared for anything that might fly at him from nowhere. “You know the money you found?”
“The grand?” she asked. “How do you know about that money?”
“He borrowed it to hire a hit man.”
She gasped, covering her mouth and mumbled something he couldn’t quite understand. Her eyes looked as if they were about to pop from their sockets. She kept muttering, shaking her head, and paced in the small room. Pacing must be a family trait.
Frank wasn’t sure if he should say something. He’d never been too good with the emotional side of women. Hell, he didn’t understand women for the most part, except maybe physically, but that didn’t count now. So he just stood there and waited.
“He told you this?” she finally asked.
“Pretty much.”
She plopped down on the couch. “Yeah, but you’re a cop. Why the hell would he say that to you? Oh, shit. Are you going to take him in? Away from me? This is bad, isn’t it?”
All good questions. Something Frank had been wondering about himself. “It’s bad, but I’m not going to report it.”
“There’s a ‘but’ in all this, isn’t there?” She eyed him suspiciously. It was unnerving the way she could rip through his thoughts like that.
“Yep,” he said.
“Figures,” she mumbled. “What am I going to have to do?”
“Not much except I need to keep an eye on Andy and have a little talk with some of his friends. I might need to come up with an excuse to hang around.” He stuffed his hand in his pocket and fiddled with some change. If Andy was telling the truth, Taylor could be in danger, and once again, Frank would be responsible. Hell, he’s just a damn kid.
“Great, just what I need. Someone will probably think we’re dating or something.”
“That’s not a bad idea.” And it really wasn’t. He could figure out what was going on with Andy, and protect them both from whatever Taylor had in store for them.
“You’re an asshole,” she said with daggers practically flying from her eyes. “That is the last thing I need people to think. That won’t help me at all.”
“I’d be around to make sure nothing happens, and in the process, I might be able to get Andy to talk to me. It beats reporting him.”
“I’m not going to pretend to date you.”
“Fine.”
“Still not going to report it?” she questioned.
“No. I’m not.” No point in arguing with her about something as absurd as what he just proposed. What the hell was he thinking?
A sigh of relief fell from her lips. “Thanks. And I promise to talk with Andy and get to the bottom of this. Sometimes he does things just for attention.”
“Most kids do,” Frank said.
“The shrink says he’s suffering from Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, but either he’s buried it so deep in his subconscious or he’s afraid of something.” She folded her legs under her butt and fiddled with the pillow she’d placed on her lap. “I don’t know how to help him.”
“I think you’re doing everything you can, under the circumstances.” Frank inched toward her and sat at the other end of the couch. “The night of the disturbance call with Hannah, where was Andy?”
She narrowed her eyes. “I have no idea…why?”
“Nothing in the report says a kid was even there.” The heartburn bubbled up his throat.
“You read the report? When?” Confusion filled her eyes.
“Curiosity. Where was he the night your sister went missing?”
“A babysitter.”
Frank rubbed his chin with his forefinger and thumb. He remembered talking with a young girl of maybe twenty. He couldn’t recall her name, and at the time, she’d seemed a tad nervous. “Do you know the girl?” He took a mental note to find the babysitter’s name in his files.
Lacy shook her head. “Never met her.”
“What do you do when you go out? Work nights?” Frank asked, and then winced when she tilted her head and squinted at him.
“A friend of mine from high school.” Lacy went back to running her fingers across the pillow. “Why are you so curious about all this? Do you really believe me? Do you really believe Hannah might have been murdered?”
Oh, what a loaded question. “I’m honestly not sure, but something isn’t right. The fact that Andy is angry enough to even think about wanting someone out of the picture makes me wonder if he doesn’t know something we don’t.” He rose, shoving his hands in his pockets.
She reached out and laced her fingers around his forearm. “Thanks.”
“For what?”
“Not thinking the worst of both of us.”
But she should be thinking the worst of him. Somehow he had to find a way to make it up to her. To Hannah. To Andy. “Does Andy like fishing? Maybe I could take him sometime.”
“Sergeant Harmon,” she said, as she stood upright, all the while staring at him dead on. “We just went through this. I’m not going to date you or even pretend to date you.”
“Taking him fishing has nothing to do with dating you. Although, it’s not like I haven’t asked you out a million times before.”
“And I’ve turned you down every time.”
“But you were about to give in before Andy got in trouble on the jet ski.”
She tried to hide her smile, but wasn’t too successful. “Not going to happen.”
“I’m concerned about—”
“If there is nothing else, it’s time for you to go.” She pointed toward the door. “If anything else happens, I’ll call.”
“Call me day or night. I’ll be by in a day or two.”
“I guess I can’t stop you, can I?”
“Nope.” He smiled and pulled her up from the couch. “You got a cop for a friend whether you like it or not.” He kissed her cheek and ignored her gasp as he turned and headed out the door. She needed someone to protect her from whatever was really going on with Taylor. She needed help to reach whatever
was really bothering Andy. More importantly, she needed him, even if she didn’t know it yet.
* * * * *
The following morning, Lacy watched from the window of room five of The Beach Side Hotel as Andy sat on the small private beach playing with a young child of maybe four. There were moments when Andy amazed her. He could be sweet, loving, and kind when he wanted to be. She knew deep down he had a big heart.
She fluffed the last pillow, then collected her cleaning supplies and headed toward the lobby. The motel rooms were finished, now she had one cabin to clean, and her job would be done for the day. She smiled at Sue, the owner’s wife, as she got the rest of what she needed for the cabin. Sue never minded that Lacy brought Andy along, which saved her a ton in babysitting. He was basically old enough to be left alone, but under the circumstances, she felt it best if he was constantly supervised. Not to mention the social worker had warned her that it wouldn’t look good if she did leave him to his own accord.
For some reason, that particular thought made her picture Frank. Dating? What a stupid idea, right? Taylor had a girlfriend and that didn’t seem to bother the courts. Hell, it appeared to make him more stable or something. Could a stable boyfriend with an upstanding job help her? She shook her head to rid herself of the ridiculous thought.
“He’s so good with toddlers,” Sue said, tucking her short, black hair behind her ears with a wrinkled hand as she glanced toward the lake. Her blue eyes sparkled against the sun’s reflection in the window and streaks of gray glimmered at her temples. Sue had a certain softness to her. It was as though she understood the world’s problems.
“I wish I could keep him away from the older kids.”
“That boy, Ricky the one with the jet ski, he’s bad news. I’ve run him off our property more times than I can count, but I can’t keep him from the launch or the public park.” Sue locked the cabinet behind her and tossed the keys into her purse.