by Cheri Lewis
As I raise the shot glass to my lips I stop when I see the front door swing open and in walks Riley. He’s dressed in an attempt to impress and it would most girls. Jeans with a name brand shirt tucked in the front. His hair has been brushed and styled. I look down at my clothes, the same ones I’ve been wearing all day. We’re here for two totally different reasons. I watch him scan the bar until he spots me. He smiles and my heart races but it’s not in a good way. Why am I doing this? I down my second shot and place the glass back on the bar. He walks straight to me and looks between me and the shot glass. “You started without me?”
I shrug. “I got here a little early. I finished up at work so I came on over.”
I feel his eyes on me but I don’t look toward him. It’s awkward enough I’m even here and I’m not sure why. Men go to bars everyday with hopes of getting laid. He orders a beer and hops up on the barstool beside me.
“Busy day?” he asks. I look down at the floor and shake my head. It’s not an answer to his question. It’s a headshake that I’ve come to the decision I can’t do this. I spin around and face him. My knees touch his thigh and hopefulness dances in his eyes. “You have the most beautiful green eyes.” Riley states and I look around him to signal for another shot. “Everything all right, Willow?”
I grab the shot off the bar and down it. I’m now feeling the effects of the second shot from earlier and the world feels all right. I jump down off the stool and stand in front of him. He perks up when he thinks I’m getting friendly. “Riley. I can’t do this. I’m sorry. I called you for sex. Not because I want to date you. Now…Sex isn’t even what I want.”
He takes a long gulp of his beer then sets it on the bar behind him. I brace for his reaction because it’s very apparent he’s feeling hurt and rejected. He doesn’t say anything as he slides off the barstool leaving me all alone. I cross my arms over my chest and watch him all the way to the door as he leaves the bar.
I spin around on my seat and stare down at the scarred up bar in front of me. I look up at Tony when he asks, “You okay, Willow?”
I give him a grin. “Never better. Another shot, please.”
CHAPTER FOUR
I feel his warmth then soft kiss on my ear. My head is killing me but I smile until my sense of smell catches up. I smell a dog. Not a sexy man. I open my eyes but immediately close them. The light makes the pounding inside my head beat like a bass drum. I roll over, turning my back to the window giving Joe better access to my face, and he takes full advantage of it. After the seventh lick from his wet tongue I pull him to me hugging him against my body. He lies still for less than thirty seconds then starts wiggling his way out from my arms. He jumps on top of me digging the comforter with his paws, then sticks his wet nose to me. “What? Do you need to go outside?”
He jumps down off the bed and runs round and round in circles. It amazes me how fast he learned what the word ‘outside’ means. I sit up on the side of the bed and rub my head at the temples letting out a groan. I stare at my bare legs then I notice I’m wearing a men’s dark blue button up shirt over my t-shirt. “What in the hell?”
I think hard back to last night and all I remember is Riley leaving and the rest gets hazy. I reach over to grab my cellphone where I normally keep it on the nightstand and it’s not there. I stand and close my eyes giving myself time to find my balance. I can feel the coldness of the hardwood floor on my sockless left foot. Joe races around in excitement waiting for me. I look around the bedroom floor for my pants but they aren’t here. I zombie walk down the hallway and to the back door to let Joe out but stop. I smell coffee. I look back over my shoulder at the coffee maker and the pot is full. I turn around and walk back into the living room to find Heath asleep on my couch. I cross my arms and stare at him breathing so peacefully. He’s jolted awake when Joe leaps up on his belly and dances around licking his face. I grumble at him, “Joe get down and leave him alone.”
Heath looks at me his eyes are heavy and sleepy. “What time is it?”
“I don’t know I can’t find my phone.”
“Where are your pants?”
“I don’t know. I can’t find them either.”
He sits up and I notice he’s more grumpy than usual. “No, I meant why didn’t you put more on? You’re awake and alive. I’m going home to sleep in my bed. Your couch sucks.”
My bitchiness rears its ugly head. “You’ve never complained before. But, I’ll know next time I go couch shopping to bring you with me so you can see if it sleeps okay.”
He slides on his boots and begins lacing them up. “What happened last night?”
I brush my hair out of my face. “What do you mean?”
He stops and his frown deepens. “Willow. You were so drunk you lost control. That isn’t like you.”
“Whose shirt am I wearing?”
“Tony’s”
“The bartender!” I shriek.
He pulls his pant leg down over the top of his boots and stands. “You’d better be glad he did that or every man at Jimmy’s would have seen all your underwear or lack thereof.”
I try harder to remember but I can’t. “What’d I do?”
He folds the blanket he had spread across him and throws it on the back of the couch. “You know that country song. I think Joe Nichols sings it. ‘Tequila makes her clothes fall off.’ Well, that was you. Stripping and dancing.”
“I don’t dance.”
“Yeah… You do. I’ll tell you this, not that I want to see it but you could get you a job at Honey’s from the way everybody was carrying on.”
“How’d I get home?”
“Riley called me. I don’t think you’ll have to worry about him bothering you anymore.”
I frown when I think about how I treated him and all the things I possibly did last night.
“Willow.”
I look up at Heath as he’s about to walk out the front door. “You got your own shit to deal with just like I do but last night was stupid and dangerous. What if Riley hadn’t have called me?”
“Well he did, and as you know playing the “what if” game gets us nowhere. We deal with whatever is in front of us and move on.”
He shakes his head and walks out the door. Joe whines at the door, pawing at it hoping to go after him. I turn back walk into the kitchen and pour myself a large cup of coffee. I take a few sips then call Joe as I open the back door to let him out.
*****
It’s like a puzzle, finding all the missing pieces to make it complete. I find one steel toed boot under the bed with a shoestring chewed off. I’m sure that was Joe’s doing. Then I find my other boot and pants in my truck. Which also has me curious as to how my truck got back home because I know I didn’t drive it. My cellphone and keys are in the refrigerator of all places. I also find a note on the counter in Heath’s chicken scratch.
Willow –
You owe me eighty bucks for your bar tab.
Holy shit. I drank eighty dollars in shots?
*****
I’m showered and dressed, ready to face the day at two-thirty in the afternoon. Joe rides shotgun as I drive to the office. I call Riley on the way over and it rings twice then goes to voicemail. I shake my head knowing that he’s avoiding me but I need to apologize so I leave him a voicemail. “Hey Riley. It’s me Willow. Thank you for calling Heath to come get me. I’m sorry I treated you the way I did. But I follow my gut and what I was doing with you was wrong. I think you’re a nice guy and I hope one day maybe we can be friends.”
I press the button on my steering wheel to end the call. Joe whines as we pull up in front of the office. I open the door and he jumps across the seat, over my lap and is out the door before I’m able to turn in my seat to get out. As I walk to the front door my phone beeps and it’s a text message from Riley. I stop midstride to read it. “We’ll be friends one day. Just not right now. It’s not entirely your fault. I knew you weren’t interested in me from the start.”
I blow out a breath
and as sad as it is, I’m relieved he doesn’t completely hate me. Most men who get tangled up with me for any length of time avoid me at all costs. I wait for Joe to finish sniffing out an appropriate place to pee then enter my office. I finish editing the video from the fraud case and send it to the insurance company along with my bill. I also find some good shots of the cheating spouse case I finished in record time. Either she thought her husband didn’t care or she didn’t care if she was caught because I only had to follow her twice and both times she was meeting her lover. I tie up the rest of the loose ends on a few other cases, finishing notes, sending second notices on unpaid balances and finally filing stuff away which is something I hate more than anything to do.
I lean back in my computer chair at my desk and watch people pass by my window as they do their shopping. I look at the two case files on my desk that I need to finish. It’s my last two cases. That’s how it is. I go a few days with nothing to do then, bam, four people walk in the door or six cases from the insurance companies I have contracts with. Joe chews on his chew toy and I find myself thinking about what Heath said to me. What is wrong with me? I get a dog. I get shitfaced drunk so bad I can’t remember what all happened. I call Riley for sex then reject him. My cell phone rings. I lean back upright in my chair. It’s a number I don’t recognize which isn’t unusual.
“Hello.”
A man clears his throat. “Is this Willow Matthews?”
“You got her. What can I do for you?”
“My name is Tatum Osborne. I got your number from Ambrose. My partner, Alexander, said you did some work for him.”
Hearing Ambrose’s name instantly intrigues me. But I’m not entirely sure it’s not somebody fishing for information about the case I did with Ambrose.
“Yes. Give me one second. I was cleaning up earlier and now I can’t find a pen. Okay, let’s start again. I’m sorry can you give me your name again?”
“Tatum Osborne, but people call me Tank.”
I scribble down his name. “Okay, and Ambrose said I could help you… how exactly?”
“I have a case of a missing seventeen year old girl and it has several leads that go all over the state. One of them is over your way.”
“How involved are the police?”
“The police have been on this case over a month and have nothing. It’s like she’s vanished into thin air.”
“Oh.” I lean back in my chair and run the scenarios. She very well could be a runaway…maybe kidnapped or dead. I sigh. “What is it you need me to do?”
“The parents want no stone left unturned and have authorized me to get all the help I need. I’ll send you what I have and you can look at it. The police have already talked to the boy and found no evidence they’d ever seen each other outside of school but…”
“You think they have?”
“I don’t know. Nothing points to this boy from just reading the files. They didn’t chat over social media at all. Or talk on the phone from what I can tell but he has a burner phone so that’s a little harder to track.”
“That’s not too uncommon now days since people don’t want contracts. I’ve actually thought about doing it myself.”
“It’s just odd to me. She goes missing and he moves across the state with his grandmother.”
Huh… coincidental maybe…“Do you normally use people you don’t know to do work for you?” I know I don’t. I don’t trust anybody to do as good of job as I can do.
“No. You come highly recommended. My partner is now more of a silent partner and I have other cases not just this one.”
“Send me what you have and I’ll read over it. I’ll give you my answer within twenty four hours if I’ll take the case.”
“Sounds good. This is my cell number I’m calling from and I’ll include my contact information in the email, as well.”
“Okay. I’ll let you know.”
We hang up and I immediately call Ambrose. I can tell he’s smiling when he answers the phone. “Hello, Ms. Wonderful Kickass Willow.”
I can’t help but smile. “Hey.”
“I bet you’re calling to ask me if I sent you a third party client.”
“I am.”
“I did. Tank’s legit. He’s Alexander’s partner.”
“Why isn’t Alexander helping him?”
He laughs. “The last time I saw him he was changing diapers and being bossed around by a little girl.”
I can’t help but laugh at that mental picture myself. That’s something I never imagined for the man even though I’d only met a few times. “Oh.”
“Yeah. It’s hard to believe but it really suits him well.”
“It is hard to believe.” I sigh. “If you say this Tatum guy is good then he’s good. I’ll give this case a read over and get back up with him.”
We chat another few minutes catching up. It’s been almost three years since I’ve spoken to him last. It’s good to hear from him and that he’s doing so well.
My computer dings signaling I have a new email. It’s from Osborne Investigation. I open my web browser and type in Tatum Osborne. Articles fill the screen about his wife and daughter being murdered and cases he’s help solve, one being the Black Rose serial killer. I click on one of the articles and grimace when I see his family was plowed down by a vehicle in broad daylight and left to die. I sigh and click the web browser closed then open the email from Osborn Investigations.
Summary:
Sasha Grace Wachowski
Age: 17
Height: 5 foot 6 inches
Weight: approximate 120 pounds
Last seen on May 20st at seven-thirty a.m. before her mother, Sarah Raye Wachowski left for work at Welman’s Construction as the payroll clerk. Last communication was a text at one thirty-three from Sasha to her father, Steven Charles Wachowski, pastor at First Methodist of Skeeter, stating she was going to clean her car, a silver 2009 Chevrolet Malibu, and buy new windshield wipers. Sasha took her car to the carwash at the Stop and Go on Third Street. At Five forty-five a call came into Sumford County E911. Samantha Jaminson, works at First Financial Bank adjacent to the car wash, called to report a car had been sitting in the same spot with all four doors open for over five hours. E911 dispatched Deputy Blaylock to check out the car and it was confirmed to belong to Sarah or Steven Wachowski. Deputy Blaylock placed a call to Sarah Wachowski who had just arrived home and was already worried something was wrong when Sasha wasn’t home. Any information needs to be forwarded to the—
I quit reading. I take a deep breath and lean back in my chair thinking about this girl. Problems at home? Does she want to be found? Sometimes they’re escaping from bad situations. These type cases are the ones I don’t like to take. The ones that I find very hard to abide by the law when I find out kids are being sexually molested or abused.
Joe jumps up placing his front paws on my leg. I look over while reaching down to pet him. “You ready to go?”
He licks my hand and I lean up looking back at the computer screen. I open one of the attachments in the email and it’s a photograph of the missing girl. Long wavy mahogany hair. Light freckles across her nose. Her eyes are the clearest blue I’ve ever seen, haunting. She’s a beautiful girl but there’s something in her expression. She’s smiling but there’s also desperation. “What are you trying to say? When did you take this picture? Where are you?” I ask the picture knowing I won’t get a response.
I close the picture and turn off my computer. I decide to think about the case overnight and in the morning I’ll call Tank to give him my answer. I help Joe jump into the floorboard of my truck. When I climb in I frown at the missing headrest. I need to go by the dealership tomorrow and get them to order one and go ahead and have it scheduled to put on. As I pull out of the drive way I hit the button on my steering wheel and call my favorite Chinese restaurant, Not Dog. To me the name was hilarious but they had to fight to keep it. There was a huge uproar amongst some of the older community saying it wasn’t appropr
iate but it didn’t stop me or others from eating there because the food is fantastic. I order my usual sweet and sour pork with lo mein noodles. I look over at Joe whose ears are perked up and change the order from a single order to a double. It’s not long before Joe and I are sprawled out on the couch with full bellies enjoying a quiet night watching TV.
The next month is pretty uneventful. I get my seat fixed in my truck. James came through on his promise of steaks and beer. Even Joe got to participate in the fun and had a steak of his own. I found out then that they had taken Tiny to jail but he was released the next day so I’m not exactly sure what the big deal was. Tiny’s mother was at the cookout so I didn’t have a chance to ask James or Brandy and I know better than to call them. They’ll have me picking up skips again. I helped them for nine months straight while they were trying out new employees and I’ve had my fill of chasing crackheads, rapists, and people accused of domestic violence. On my third complaint of being too rough, I told them I had had enough. They could beat the shit out of their wife, husband or child but I had to be careful when applying handcuffs. Shit doesn’t make sense to me.
I took the case with Tank and met with the teenage boy and his grandmother. I had to make an appointment with the grandmother to meet with her grandson. I took a drive over there on a Sunday afternoon. It’s the only time he had available between summer school program, sporting practice and church. Before I met with him I tried finding this kid on every social media site I could. Nothing. No Facebook, no Instagram, no twitter, no snapchat. I tried his name six different ways. I’ve scoured over Sasha’s social media accounts and found nothing. The only link I can find between the two as to why they hired me to talk to him was because he was at the bank next door the day she went missing.