by Cat Clayton
“Thanks. I definitely need some practice. And sorry about the whole laughing thing.”
A breathy chuckle escaped her. “Oh, my goodness, it happens to the best of us!” In her bare-footed beauty, she greeted the next class’s participants.
I picked up the borrowed mat and returned it to the shelf near the door. “Thanks again, Wren.”
I spotted Gertie and Daniel in the hallway. Jackson followed me out. I felt the weight of his presence behind me.
Daniel eyed Jackson. “Gertie and I are going for coffee. I’ll drive her home after.” He didn’t give me the option to join them.
“I guess,” I said. Part of me wanted to disappear and avoid a confrontation with Jackson. The other part knew I needed to face him. “Gertie, tell Pop I’ll be over later.”
Realizing Cuff hadn’t followed me out, I stuck my head back in the room and kissed for him. In a merry little trot, he joined me.
I had a nice snooze with Lotus. She is so calm and quiet. Like her human. It makes me feel all peaceful inside.
I know what he meant. Wren had the calming effect on me, too.
Jackson cleared his throat as soon as Gertie and Daniel walked away. “Can we please continue our conversation outside?”
I studied his determined expression and saw the only way out of this mess was through it.
“Fine.” I headed outside, and he followed in my wake.
I chose a bench right outside the yoga studio and sat down. Jackson stood like a soldier at attention in front of me.
I started in on him. “I don’t think you realize how much I hate feeling like a fool. But what I hate even more, is being lied to.” I picked at a sliver of wood on the bench.
The sun had dipped below the horizon and a chill hung in the air. I shivered and pulled the opening of my sweater around me.
“You’re not a fool, and I didn’t lie to you,” Jackson said.
He is right, Chiquita. He did not lie.
I crossed my right leg over my left and pumped my foot in aggravation. I gave Cuff a little thump on the butt as he sat beside me.
“Maybe not an outright lie, but you withheld the truth. So, you might as well have.” I refused to look him in the eye. Instead, I gave everything else in sight my attention. A leaf blowing down the sidewalk. A crack in the concrete. The red brick exterior of the building.
Jackson sighed and shoved his hands in the front pockets of his gym shorts. Bouncing on the toes of his shoes, he shivered. I could’ve invited him up to the apartment, but I didn’t. He deserved to sit out in this cold weather. My stubborn streak showed its best game face. Not a proud moment, but for now, it was all I had.
He spoke up. “We had a terrible relationship. Both of us knew it had ended before I left for my twelve-month deployment. I should’ve filed for the divorce then, but time escaped me, and before I knew it, I’d shipped out. I figured when I returned she’d have left, but I never thought she’d take off with one of my good friends.” He bounced a few more times and used his hands to rub his arms, warming them.
I continued to let him shiver and confess.
I feel he is trying his best, Chiquita.
“When I returned, she’d disappeared and left Taffy at her parent’s house. I had no way to find her. I figured when and if she ever showed her face, I’d serve her with papers. Then, I put out my feelers to fellow Marines, asking if they knew of anyone hiring. I wanted to return to Texas. California never felt like home. Nick answered my email about an opening here on the police department, and well, you know the rest.”
My head snapped in his direction. “Yeah, I know the rest. You flirted with me, took advantage of my vulnerability because of Nick’s betrayal, and made me fall for you!” The cold settled in my bones.
“I didn’t take advantage of you,” he said.
“Yes, you did.”
He narrowed his eyes at me. “So, I made you fall for me? You know how silly you sound, right? I’m fairly certain you fell for me because I’m good-looking, and you find me irresistible and charming.” He winked and gave me a devilish grin.
“Jackson, this is not funny. I feel betrayed!”
“You’re right. It’s not funny and I’m sorry.” He held up his hands in defense.
I waited for more, but it was all he had.
He is sorry, Chiquita. What more do you want from the guy?
Honesty. The truth. And nothing but the truth.
I think he gave it to you. The question is, can you live with it?
“Steely, can you forgive me?” Jackson asked.
Do not make the man beg, Chiquita.
Our disagreement seemed to go around in circles. I felt as if we weren’t accomplishing anything and we kept coming back to the same things. His marriage. He didn’t tell me. I didn’t like it. Cuff was right. The question is, can I live with it?
“I don’t know. I want to, but I need some time to think. Can we table our differences for now and change the subject?”
He drew a blank expression. “I guess. What’s on your mind?”
I popped up from the bench. “Petunia’s murder. I have something to show you,” I said, marching off toward the shop. Cuff and Jackson followed.
“Where did you get this?” Jackson asked, thumbing through the pages of Petunia’s journal. “And what the hell happened to it?”
“A goat ate it. Don’t ask. But, can we focus on what it is and what’s written inside instead of how I acquired it?”
Good one, Chiquita. Cuff curled up on the couch and watched us. I winked at him.
Jackson and I sat at the kitchen table in the upstairs apartment as he studied the book.
“I dog-eared a few interesting pages. Turn to the last couple of entries.”
He thumbed through the journal and read silently, his eyes widening.
“So, Petunia wrote about leaving the library position, having issues with Buzz, and having an affair with a married man,” he said.
Yeah, not too far off from what I’m doing, I thought, cringing. But we hadn’t slept together as of date, so affair seemed a strong word for what Jackson and I were doing. I pushed the thought away and concentrated on the here and now. Petunia’s death.
“Exactly,” I said. “The way I see it, is it could’ve been one of three people. Vivienne, Buzz, or this mystery man.” The mere thought of finding Petunia’s killer intrigued me, not to mention, the excitement of helping bring not one, but two murderers to justice. Blake Welton back in July, and now, this poisonous psychopath.
Jackson peered over at me. “Steely, I think you should turn this over to me, and let us do our job.”
“But, the mayor and the chief both agreed the Citizens on the Watch would play a bigger role in Pleasant Hills,” I said.
Squeaky voice, Chiquita.
Sorry. I’ll try to reword it and change my tone. How’s this? I thought.
“I want to help. I realize it’s dangerous, but I can handle it. Really, I can.”
The tone was better. No squeaky voice. But it still will not work.
Why not?
Because he will pull the cop card. Mark my bark.
Cuff barked, causing Jackson to jump.
He glanced over at Cuff. “I swear, sometimes I think he’s aware of what we’re saying. Steely, I know you want to help, and I understand the COW is an organization to aid the department. But we have a murder now, and it’s time to hand over the responsibility to us. For your own safety.”
See, I told you, Chiquita. He played the cop card.
GERTIE AND STONEY WERE both tucked in bed. Gertie had moved into my old room, so Stoney could have her old one back. Pop and I sat at the kitchen table, Cuff and Virgil curled up on the floor. Cuff’s ears remained alert as he listened to our conversation.
“How is she?” I asked. I took a sip of coffee, my hands enjoying the warmth through the ceramic glass.
A pained expression darkened his blue eyes. “Steels, it breaks my heart in a million ways,” he
said, choking back a sob. “She was so close, an hour and a half away from us this whole time, experiencing horrifying abuse. I feel so guilty. All these years and I sat here, thinking she’d run away.” He dropped his face into his palms and wept. His bulky body shook as he attempted to hold in his anguish.
This guy is breaking my heart. Cuff whimpered.
I stood and approached my dad, wrapping my arms around his shoulders. “You can’t blame yourself, Pop. You had no idea where she’d gone. You and Mama spent years looking for clues about her disappearance. You’re not responsible.”
His crying turned softer and after a minute, he sniffed, looked up, and hugged me.
“I still feel guilty,” he said in a hoarse voice.
I moved back around the table and sat across from him. “It’s okay to feel bad and sad about it, but you didn’t do this to her.”
He peered over at me. “When did you get so wise?”
I smiled and shrugged. “I get it from you.”
I think you may get it from me, Chiquita.
I smiled down at Cuff.
Pop shook his head. “No, you get it from your mother. It’s exactly what she would’ve said.”
My heart ached when he talked about Mama. It made me miss her so much more. I wondered if Stoney knew about her death or if Pop had kept it quiet.
“Did the doctors give you any other information about her mental health? How long it’ll take her to... recover?” I asked, hoping for the best.
His eyes grew dark again. “There’s so much I still don’t understand about her and what she’s been through,” he said, running a hand over his salt and peppered hair. “I spoke with the psychiatrist after she’d met with your sister. It appears at first, they trafficked Stoney. Then in her early twenties, and no longer desired by customers, she stayed with her captors to care for the younger ones.” He shook his head. “I’m disgusted even speaking about her ordeal. It makes me sick. And so angry.”
Cuff whimpered from the big dog bed as he snuggled next to Virgil.
“Oh gosh, Pop. That’s terrible! But why did she stay? Why didn’t she come home, or reach out to us somehow?”
“We think Stoney was involved with one of the men. At least it’s what the SWAT guys believe happened,” Pop said. “They’ve made one arrest so far, but there are more to go after.” He gave me a brief description of Stockholm Syndrome, which left me with only more questions than answers.
“Victims begin to care about or have feelings for their abusers. In Stoney’s case, the doctor thinks it may go above and beyond her having affection for her captors, but also the children in the house. She seems to have grown attached to them, and felt by her leaving, she would abandon them. So, she stayed and became a mother-like figure to them,” he said.
For the life of me, I couldn’t understand why anyone who’d suffered the horror Stoney had decided to stay.
“So, who mailed you the photos? If she wanted to be there, who sent them?”
He shrugged. “We haven’t figured it out yet. We didn’t find anyone else on the property, only Stoney and the kids. CPS took all the children into custody. I’m sure they’ll all have long roads ahead of them, but at least they’re safe now. Your sister acted downright volatile when we arrived. She fought the SWAT team when they removed and separated her from the kids. She refused to give up any information on how and where to find these guys. And she is so bitter and angry that I brought her home. She wanted to stay. I’m worried about the lasting effects from her being with those monsters for so long.”
“Give her time, Pop, she’ll come around,” I offered.
“I hope so, Steels. I really do,” he said, shaking his head. “So, I got a phone call from Chief Becker last night.”
Uh, oh. Here it comes, Chiquita.
I braced myself. “You did?”
Pop examined me over his glasses. “What on God’s green earth were you thinking letting Gertie take a road flare to Little Bob’s?”
“I didn’t let her take it,” I said in defense. “She hid the darn thing in her boot.”
He shook his head in disappointment. “Little Bob wants her to pay for the damages. He says the wax statue was priceless, but he’ll settle for five grand.”
Holy guacamole, Chiquita!
“Five grand? He didn’t buy the statue. Dolly Parton gave it as a gift!” My stomach soured. I shoved my chair back, stood up, and poured the rest of the coffee down the drain. “Ridiculous.”
Pop shrugged. “Gertie’s banned from his establishment, too. She’s not to go within six-hundred feet of the place.”
Now, I shrugged. “Seems a bit overboard if you ask me.”
I guess no more Dolly Parton contests for her.
That is probably a good thing.
“Becker also informed me a delivery guy from Pizza Willy’s is claiming y’all are for responsible for letting a dog loose that bit him,” he said, frowning. “How about you fill me in about everything while I was out of town.”
“Do I have to?” I asked, wishing I would vanish.
He narrowed his eyes at me. “You can begin by telling me why you broke into Petunia’s house.”
Chapter 15
After my confession, I arrived back at the apartment. I poured a glass of wine and settled down with my laptop on the couch. Although my conversation with Pop had stressed me out, I opened my computer and busied myself with some research.
I typed Stockholm Syndrome into the search bar on Google and hit enter. Research and learning about Stoney’s experience played a vital role in understanding and dealing with her trauma.
According to a website online, in 1973, four hostages were taken during a bank robbery in Stockholm, Sweden. After their release, the hostages refused to testify in court against their captors. The condition causes the victims to develop a psychological bond with their captors. One website suggested occasionally that the captor may make threats about the safety and well-being of either loved ones or the hostage themselves. In Stoney’s case, her captors’ threats may have influenced her because she wanted to protect the children living with her, the other sex trafficking victims. Staying there to keep the peace may have started as survival for the others, then became a normal lifestyle for Stoney.
The more I read, the more I grieved for her. For us. And all the time we’d lost.
Chiquita, do you think she will stay, or do you think she will try to go back?
Good question. “I don’t know. The thought hadn’t occurred to me,” I said, closing my laptop and setting it on the coffee table. “For all of our sakes, I hope she stays home.” I don’t know what it’d do to Pop if she left again.
I opened my cell phone and pulled up the app store, my finger hovering over the Stumble app’s Install button. The only way for me to figure out this app business was to investigate the service from a client standpoint. I read the description. It claimed to be a social networking platform where you could find dates, form friendships, and even network in your career. Women make the first move and the download cost nothing. The app used GPS to locate like-minded individuals. Seemed harmless enough.
I bit my lower lip and clicked to download the app.
I hope you know what you are doing, Chiquita.
“Me, too.”
I created a Stumble profile and searched and found Petunia. I kept my personality, likes, age, and hobbies similar to what I saw on her account. Locating men who she may have connected with sounded like a good plan. I selected a 50-mile radius and hit search.
Imagine my shock when Pop appeared in the results. He had a Stumble account. Randall Lamarr, sixty-something, widower, father to two daughters. Hobbies include hunting, fishing, reading, watching true crime movies and TV programs. Enjoys late-night conversations with like-minded people, being part of the Citizens on the Watch program of hometown, and being with family.
My heart battled between happy and sad. Is Pop lonely? How did I not see it? Guilt hit me square in the stomach. I shou
ld’ve paid him more attention since Mama had died. Careful not to click on his profile, I moved on.
According to my search, there were several eligible men who met my criteria. Some of them had cryptic profile names, and they’d used obscure images as their profile pics. Another man I recognized shocked me. Mr. Peacock. His profile name read StanP54, but he’d used his real picture. Dishonesty had to be against Stumble’s policy. I thought twice about the account I set up.
Stumble had a feature where the women could “like” someone, but not send them an actual message. The feature provided women the ability to make a list of men they’d like to contact. I “liked” Mr. Peacock’s profile and moved on down the list. I did a quick scan through the rest of the men listed in my area and moved on to Petunia’s friend list.
Both Pop and StanP54 had Petunia in their “friends” lists. Pop seemed too old to date Petunia, but I had no right to judge? He’d admitted to going on one date with her. I knew for certain my Pop didn’t harm her.
I’d gathered from the journal Petunia had become involved with a married man. In the entries, she’d admitted it. Maybe her conscience caught up with her? Did the guy’s wife discover the affair before Petunia stopped seeing him? Jealousy created a good motive for murder.
I considered Stanford Peacock.
Vivienne Peacock not only had a mile-wide mean streak, but she also wanted the library job. She’d arrived at the library the day of Petunia’s poisoning, ready and willing to point her finger in my direction.
My mind shifted to Buzz McCoy. According to Petunia’s journal, they’d had an ongoing conflict. She’d threatened to call the game warden on him, but would an argument drive him to murder?
I glanced at the time on my cell phone. 8:22 PM. It’s not too late.
Chiquita, what’re you thinking?
“Wanna go for a drive?” I asked him.
WE SCRAMBLED INTO THE Bug and drove out of town, heading north. I vaguely recalled Buzz McCoy’s hunting cabin’s location. Pop and I had been out there once, but it’d been at least two years since then. He has a long-distance range set up and Pop had needed to sight in his rifle. Locating the property, with Pop driving, in the middle of the day seemed easy; finding it in the dark would not prove to be so simple.