by Rea Winters
“Home. But she’s not…she’s not here anymore.”
Desmond had taken Caspar on a weekend long fishing trip before Chea’s death. He knew how stressed his etti had been, but taking care of her had been running her daughter’s body and spirit into the ground. He’d brought Cas home two days later and got the call about her passing the following day. Thirty minutes later, he and two other deputies found her laid in her own bed, tucked under the covers. Remainders of the pills she mixed had still been scattered on the floor.
“Are you leaving or eating?” Cas called from the kitchen, pulling him from the past.
Desmond gently closed the door behind himself. “Eating. I’ll have what the dog had if there’s any left. So, how’s business? You like being the new boss?”
He took a seat on a stool at the breakfast bar while Caspar warmed up last night’s dinner on the stove. “Fine. And no. It’s about what I expected. People don't want to be around me anymore than I really want to be around them. Except the girl who works in my office. My Friday. She’s good. Makes things easy for me. And I like talking to her.”
“Really now? Those are words I never thought I’d hear. Who is she?”
“Amie Seda. Her mom was from here. Beth Duval. Apparently, she died from an illness when Amie was little.”
“Beth Duval? She’s Bethanie’s daughter? Wow.” He got that faraway stare, shook his head, and laughed at something in his head.
“What’s so funny?”
“Life is funny. Life is hilarious. Bethanie Duval was your mom’s best friend growing up. They hung out all the time, worked at a flower shop together every summer. She tried to stay close to Chea after what happened, but…you know how your mom was. Bethanie gave her space, then she grew up, started her own life. But she would still ask me how your mother was doing when she could.”
Cas slowed in her movements. Hearing about her mother's past – the life she had before Cas came along – filled her with a distinct sadness, some cross between envy and guilt.
“Small world, huh?” Desmond continued. “The guy Bethanie married was some smooth-talking ex-thug who was supposed to be passing through with a construction crew rebuilding the church. Not long after she died, he packed up their daughter and left. Wonder what kind of childhood she had with that one.”
A knock on the door made Caspar tense. Her only welcomed visitor was already sitting right in front of her. Then Amie came to mind.
“I got it.”
While Desmond finished his meal, Cas answered the door and found an unexpected visitor far from being Amie Seda. On the porch, a pale man with round green eyes and black crinkly hair stood nearly at Caspar’s height on her porch. He wiped his sweaty palms down his wrinkled dark suit and struggled to keep eye contact with the woman of the house, who watched him through a narrowed gaze.
“Can I help you?”
The question made the man’s dark brows deeply furrow and his eyes dart around. His jaw locked and unlocked as he struggled to get the words out in between clearings of his throat.
“Do you not…know who I am?”
“No. You must be lost. There’s another house ten miles east—”
“N-no. I’m not lost. I’m here for you. To see you.”
Caspar stepped out of the house and pulled the door closed behind her, standing in full view of the man and crossing her arms.
“If you’re with some newspaper, I’m not talking to you. Sorry you wasted the trip.”
“No, I’m not…not that. My name is…I’m Jack Kent.” The nervous man stuck his hand out for a shake, unsure if it was the right move, but knowing no other etiquette.
“Jack Kent…” Caspar’s expression became unreadable. She drew in a breath and took the man’s hand, as if to shake it, only to crush it in a knuckle-cracking grip and slam her forehead square into his nose.
Kent stumbled to the porch floor, spitting out the blood that trickled past his lips. His vision blurred and ears ringing, he hadn’t registered the brawny ladda on top of him until fists of fury rained down on his face. His arms came up to shield him, which only earned him a hail of cracks to the ribs.
“Caspar, stop!” Desmond yelled from behind them. “Stop!” He locked his arms over Caspar’s, using all his might to pin her fists behind her back and pull her off the man. “Calm down!” He shoved her to the other side of the porch and blocked her path as Caspar paced like a wild animal. Her chest heaving with ragged breaths ripping from her lungs, the ladda’s whole body shook with rage. Tears pricking her eyes, teeth grit, she grunted and groaned.
“Get him out of here…get him out…”
Desmond was already on the other side of the porch, forcing Kent to his feet and shoving him down the steps.
“Please, just hear me out—” Jack pled.
“I told you to stay away from her,” Desmond barked.
“I’m not here for me!” Kent shoved Desmond back. Caspar almost launched off the porch, but Desmond’s raised hand stopped her in her tracks. Kent raised his hands, diffusing himself, and allowed Desmond to yank him back to his car.
“My son is dying, he’s only fourteen. Please. We need Caspar’s help, he needs—”
“We don’t want to hear it. Go. Go!”
Kent finally took the hint when Desmond’s hand rested on the holster of his service taser. The officer didn’t move until the car rolled back into the woods. The startling bang of fists against wood turned his head.
“Hey!” He ran up the porch and put himself between Caspar and the front door. “Calm down, kid.”
Pacing and fuming, she shook her head, combating the memories of her mother’s despair as she told young Cas the truth about her conception in frightening detail.
“Why was he here?”
“It doesn’t matter. Here, sit down.”
“No—”
“Now.”
Caspar hunkered down on the porch and dug the heel of her palms into her stinging eyes. Des put his palm on her neck.
"Head between your knees, breathe and count. What did I tell you about losing it like that? You can’t lose sight like that again, you hear me?”
Caspar said nothing and just focused on breathing. Ever since she heard the truth something clicked inside her. She’d known anger when she was being hurt by her own tormentors, but seeing others hurt, especially in the way her mother had been, conjured in her a deeper darker rage. At the sound of his name, that was all she could see. The scene of him hurting young Chea in the worst way possible. The shameful scene that created her. Cas dislodged her voice from her dry throat, but it couldn’t go louder than a croaky whisper.
“What did he want? Did he say…something about a son—"
“Doesn’t matter. It’s not your problem, just put whatever you heard out of your head. He had no right coming here. I warned him to get lost days ago. He shouldn’t have gotten that close to you. I’m sorry, kid.”
Her shaking calmed to a slight tremor, Cas raised her head and unburied her eyes. “Not your fault.”
A call came in over the walkie on Desmond’s hip. A burglary in progress on the corner of Pelton Ave and St. Ives. He was about to turn the walkie off when the address came in.
He and Caspar exchanged a glance and bolted from the steps.
Chapter Fourteen
“Bye, guys. See you tomorrow. I’m just gonna finish up here.” When the last few workers left the building, Amie locked up behind them, changed into her PJs, and launched into her night routine in the restroom. Meds, brush teeth, play music and sing along while rubbing in a skincare mask and sliding around the linoleum in her socks.
A few fluffs here and a folded jacket there and the little loveseat became a tad bit friendlier on her back.
What to do next rotated in her mind as she went through the town paper looking for renting options, circling what seemed most promising with a red marker.
She couldn’t stay there forever. It would only get harder to hide. With the next pay check sh
e resigned to bite the bullet and get a room at the motel again for the days it would take to pick a decent place out of her circled options and make the proper arrangements with a real landlord.
In the meantime, she dreamt of a place with a proper kitchen and a big backyard surrounded by good, friendly people. She wondered if a raise in salary could afford her a little house in the shabbier parts of Cedamire, one she could fix up and make her own.
Thoughts of raises and construction brought her boss to mind. Memories of their earlier time together made a little smile bloom across her face. It was nice finally having someone to talk to, though she felt a small ping of guilt for lying about her dad. She couldn’t call it fair since she knew Caspar’s darker truths, but she wasn’t ready to share her own. Especially not in a town full of gossip vultures. The upside was that Caspar was likely as uninterested in knowing as she was unprepared to share. Half of the broody woman’s patience with people seemed to stem from a profound disinterest in them. Although, the sense that her disinterest might not have been so profound when talking to Amie did make the corners of her lips turn up a little higher as she drifted off to sleep.
A commotion the likes of wood breaking and papers shuffling in Caspar’s office startled Amie awake. She didn’t know how long she’d slept, but by the panel of moonlight beaming in through the window, it was definitely still night. Tiptoeing to the door, Amie stuck her ear to the wood.
“….that psycho.”
“We’ll show her.”
“Rip it up, let’s go!”
More thrashing made her flinch from the door. She snagged her cellphone from the couch and leapt into the closet.
“Sheriff’s Department, what is your emergency?”
“There’s a break in happening and there’s two or maybe three of them and they’re—”
“Slow down, miss. Try to remain calm. Where are you?”
“Adam & Hammer. 37193, uh um, Pelton and St. Ivory—no Ives. St. Ives.”
Adrenaline and fear rocked her chest as something heavy banged against her office door. She leaned back into the darkness as far as the wall would allow, the operator’s voice becoming a static hum underneath her shuddery breaths. A final bang and crack sent the office door knocking into the wall and Amie’s cellphone slipped from her grip. She clamped a shaky hand over her mouth, squatted and picked up the nearest hard object her fingers skittered across. A vandal stomped through her office, ripping drawers open, knocking boxes over…
While keeping a hold on her mystery weapon, she grabbed the broom with both hands, pointing it forward like a spear as the closet doorknob twisted. At the first sign of light, she thrusted the broom into the vandal’s stomach and shoved past them. They stumbled into the desk, but was quick on their feet and right on Amie’s heels as she ran out of both offices and down the endless stretch of hall. Mere feet away from freedom, the masked intruder dived at her legs, making them crash to the floor. She kicked and screamed as the intruder began to straddle her.
“Shut up,” a light voice muttered through grit teeth, pressing a gloved hand over her mouth. Amie’s free hand found her mystery weapon and she jammed into the nearest piece of flesh.
“Aahh! Bitch!” The vandal backhanded her across the face, then grabbed a fist full of her hair at the scalp and slammed her head into the floor.
“Hey hey hey, what the hell are you doing?” More vandals rushed down the hall and pulled their partner off her.
“She came out of nowhere—”
“We gotta go, c’mon!”
Sirens blaring a block over got louder by the second.
Chapter Fifteen
“Witness says there might’ve been three of them. They broke the lock on the alley door with a crowbar, went inside…”
Caspar watched the scene from a distance, more confused than alarmed until she caught glimpses of Amie sitting in the ambulance. A paramedic held an icepack to her head and a cloth to her bloody nose. Her heart spiked with worry, Cas weaved through crookedly parked cruisers, shoving past deputies who tried to stop her before Sgt. Taylor gave the okay.
“Cas?” Amie looked surprised before turning sheepish. “Heh, funny seeing you here.”
“What happened?”
The paramedic assisting Amie looked Cas up and down, then turned to her charge.
“You okay with her being here?”
“Uh-huh. She’s my friend.” Amie took over holding the cloth on her tilted nose while the medic rummaged through a medkit.
“Well, friend, one of the bastards tackled her pretty hard. She’s got a sprained ankle, a bruised cheek where the asshole hit her, and probably a mild concussion from having her head knocked into the floor. We found her in the hall, half conscious.”
“She’s making it sound worse than it is on purpose,” Amie deflected in a nasally matter-o-fact manner.
“Why is your nose bleeding?”
“Just the stress of it all, no big deal.”
The paramedic scoffed and shook her head. “She’s been saying that since she woke up slurring her words. Claims to be just fine.”
“Not claims. Am. I’m a quick healer, you know.”
Cas wasn’t blind to the clenching and unclenching of Amie’s trembling hand while the girl quipped about being unfazed by what just happened. Her tongue said one thing, but her body spoke the truth.
“What were you doing here?” Cas pressed.
“Oh, um, just finishing up some last-minute paperwork. You know me, always prepping for days in advance. I got caught up, lost track of time. Really, I’m fine. In fact, I gave as good as I got.”
“What do you mean?”
“She stabbed one of them with an old box cutter,” Sgt. Taylor answered as he joined them. “Are you okay?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Give us a minute,” the Sergeant ordered, dismissing the medic. Caspar resumed holding the icepack to Amie’s head before the girl could reach it herself. She did her best to control her grip as a storm of anger whirled within her at the thought of some creep overpowering her, hurting her…
“Amie Seda, right?” Sgt. Taylor verified.
“Right.”
“I’m Sergeant Desmond Taylor.”
“Nice to meet you…well, it could be nicer.”
The Sergeant smiled. “We found your cellphone and other belongings in your office. After the scene is processed, you’ll be able to collect them down at the department.”
“Okay, sounds good.”
“Is there a reason you keep your luggage here?”
“Yeah. I, uh, usually stay at this motel called The Melvin. I don’t really trust a lot of the people there. Sticky fingers and all that. You can never be too safe.”
“Hey, I don’t blame you.”
Her luggage was in the office? It was the first Caspar was hearing of it. She glanced down, noticing embroidered bunny ears on Amie’s slip-on shoes and the fact that the plaid cotton pants and matching button up shirt around her graphic t-shirt was actually a pajama set.
“Come on,” Caspar interjected. “We’re going to the hospital.”
“Good idea,” Sgt. Taylor chimed. “My deputies already took down your statement. If we have any more questions, we’ll find you. Meantime, get some rest.”
✽ ✽ ✽
They spent half the ride in silence. Caspar glanced at Amie, chewing on her words, while Amie rested against the seat, clutching the seat belt in her struggle to pretend she wasn’t shaken up.
“Amie.”
“Hm?”
“How long have you been sleeping at the office?”
“I wasn’t—"
“It’s six hours after closing, everything you own is in the closet of your office apparently, and you’re in your PJs right now. How long?”
“Just a couple nights,” she conceded. A swear and huff followed. “Jeez, I must really be cursed. Just when I was feeling good about starting over here, my whole plan goes flying out the window. Okay sure, it was a half-ba
ked water cracker thin plan, but I was making it work, okay? The chips were falling into place. Then my stupid card maxes out and that creep behind the counter who acted oh-so-nice and accommodating before wouldn’t cut me a break unless I got down on my knees for him, so I left and went to the only place I had the key to.”
“Okay—”
“I wasn’t gonna stay long, I swear, and I really hope you don’t fire me because I actually like this job a lot—”
“Amie—”
“And I’m pretty damn good at it and it’s not like I stole anything—”
“Amie.”
“And it’s a good thing that I was there, too, because then those-those hooligans wouldn’t have been caught red handed and—”
“Amie!”
“What?”
“Take a breath. Good? Now listen. I’m not firing you.”
“You’re not?”
“Of course not.” She’d be a fool to. Amie Seda was the best thing that happened to her since she started this pain-in-the-neck change.
“But?”
“You obviously can’t stay at the office anymore.”
A moment of silence passed as Amie considered her other immediate options and came up blank. The knots in her chest tightened.
Cas cleared her throat. “You’ll get a room at a nicer place. On me. Until you can find a place of your own.”
“No, you really don’t have to—”
“Yes, I do. I was raised to take care of those who take care of me. For better or worse. They’re too rare not be appreciated, protected. I think you more than qualify. You probably need a raise, too. I think I saw a form about that somewhere.”
“Second purple binder on the third shelf. Although, with the damage those guys did, I doubt that’s still the case.”
“Right. You know, you could’ve come to me sooner. But I should’ve paid more attention.”
Amie chewed her tongue to keep from crying as one of many knots in her chest began to loosen. Between the locked jaw, tense fidgeting, and aggravated sighs, she got the sense that Caspar may have been angrier with herself than her right now. It confused and flattered her, the latter a little more than the former, allowing her to breathe a little easier. Then, her gaze fell on Cas’ bruised knuckles and she frowned.