Sherry Lewis - Count on a Cop

by Her Secret Family

  When the county commissioners voted to replace the landscaping around the complex several months earlier using a technique called xeriscaping, Mason had eagerly bid on the job. It was a huge, high-profile job ripping out the lawn and other high-maintenance ornamentals, and replacing them with drought-resistant plants native to the area. If the job went well, Mason’s business would get a much-needed shot in the arm. If it tanked…

  In spite of countless hours of planning, they were already more than a week behind schedule. Mason couldn’t afford to lose more time. He’d worked too hard to climb out of the pit his parents had left him in. He wasn’t going to go back without a fight. “Did they at least tell you when the shipment will be here?”

  Doug gave another shrug. “Couple of weeks.” He jerked his head toward the rest of the crew, waiting for Mason’s answer. “Schweppe said to tell you. Wanted me to find out what you want him to do.”

  Mason rolled up the plans and slid a rubber band over one end. “Try Johnson Valley nursery. Ask for Antonio. Explain the problem to him and see if he can help us.”

  With a nod, Doug ambled off and Mason glanced at his watch. Just under three hours before the crew finished for the day. Enough time to start digging up the lawn on the north side of the complex.

  He tossed the plans into the cab of his truck, filled Schweppe in on the change of plans, then, calculating that Debra should be home from diving practice by now, punched in his home number.

  Things had been rocky between them for days. In fact, she’d given him the silent treatment for most of the weekend. He didn’t know what she thought that would accomplish. She might not understand why the thought of her coming anywhere near drugs made him a little crazy, but that didn’t mean he was going to change his mind about her Friday-night escapade or back off on the consequences.

  The phone rang three times. Four. Five. By the sixth ring, Mason realized that Debra hadn’t taken him seriously when he said she was to come straight home after practice. No stops along the way, no diversions. He had his finger on the off button when he heard Debra’s sleepy voice. “Hello?”

  Sleeping? At three-thirty in the afternoon? Mason warned himself not to jump to conclusions. She might have fallen asleep after school. “You sound tired.”

  “I just woke up.”

  “From a nap?”

  “No.”

  “You were sleeping this late?”

  Debra yawned. Stretched. “What time is it?”

  “You haven’t been up all day? Does that mean you missed an entire day of school and diving practice?

  “I didn’t feel good. I decided to stay home.”

  “You should have called me.”

  “I didn’t want to interrupt you at work.”

  Mason kneaded the bridge of his nose. “Did you call Coach?”

  “No. I was asleep.” She yawned again, “You’re mad at me, aren’t you?”

  Mason didn’t have a clue which of the emotions climbing the walls of his stomach was the strongest. “I’m disappointed,” he said, wincing a little as the word left his mouth. He’d hated when Henry used that word on him. It felt so manipulative. “Coach isn’t going to be happy,” he said, brushing past the guilt Debra was supposed to feel in response. “He went out on a limb adding you to the team in the middle of the year.”

  “It’s only one practice. I’m not going to be here next year anyway, so who cares?”

  “I care. The rest of the team cares. You should, too.”

  “I’ll go tomorrow.”

  “Yeah, you will.”

  Debra must have moved into the bathroom because he could hear running water. “You don’t believe me, do you?”

  “That you were sick?” Mason shut the door of the truck and started down the hill toward the crew. “I’d sure like to, but lately I don’t know what to believe.”

  “Because of Friday night?”

  “That has something to do with it.”

  “I’ve already told you everything.”

  Mason put some more distance between himself and the crew. “You haven’t even come close, kid. And there’s still no TV or radio until I think I have the whole story.”

  Silence stretched between them.

  “I didn’t know he had a joint with him until I got outside.”

  Half a football field away, Schweppe tossed a couple of rakes into the back of a truck and turned to Mason expectantly. Mason waved for them to go on without him. “When you found out he had a joint, why didn’t you walk away?”

  “Because I didn’t want to look stupid.”

  How many times had he heard that excuse in his lifetime? I didn’t want to be rude… They would have thought I didn’t like them… I was only trying to be friendly.

  He gripped the phone tightly and closed his eyes. “This guy was trying to talk you into doing something not only harmful, but illegal. Why did you care what he thought?”

  “Because. You just don’t get it, do you?”

  “Better than you might think. Walking away wouldn’t have made you look stupid, Debra. Staying there and letting some jerk shove drugs at you looks stupid. You also broke your word to me. You promised to stay at the party. That’s why I let you go.”

  “I just went outside to talk.”

  “And got picked up by the cops.” Mason wiped sweat from his forehead with his sleeve. “You’re lucky you didn’t end up in worse trouble.”

  “I didn’t do anything.”

  “You did plenty, Debra. You were with a kid in possession of narcotics. You were thinking about trying the drug. Don’t you know how dangerous that could be?”

  “It was just a little weed.”

  Mason’s stomach twisted into a tight, painful knot. “Maybe you don’t think it’s a big deal, but I know better. People start out with ‘just a little weed,’ and end up addicted all the time.”

  “And people don’t end up addicted all the time, too.”

  But not people like us. Mason wondered if telling her about his parents would make a difference, but why subject her to that kind of humiliation unnecessarily? Why subject himself to the memories?

  “We’ll finish talking about this later,” he said. “And just so you know, I asked Barbara to drop by and make sure you’re okay. She should be there any minute, so you can go ahead and open the door if you’re sure it’s her.”

  The water shut off and Debra’s voice rose. “Are you kidding me?”

  “No, why?”

  “You’re sending her to spy on me?”

  “I’ll feel better if she stops by.”

  “Why? Because you think I stayed home so I could lay around in bed all day and get high? I’m not that stupid, Dad. No matter what you think.”

  “I didn’t say you were stupid, Debra. I just don’t want to see you ruin your life!”

  Something fell to the floor and shattered. “I don’t need to ruin my life,” Debra shouted. “You’re already doing that for me.” Three rapid beeps signaled a broken connection.

  Mason punched the numbers in again, but the phone rang straight through to voice mail. Not cool, Debra. Frustrated beyond words, he stuffed the phone into his pocket. Maybe he’d feel better if he worked himself into oblivion. Leaving work so he could drive home and yell at her wouldn’t accomplish anything anyway.

  A steady throbbing pain started in the back of his head and pulsed down his neck with every heartbeat. Barbara would be there soon. If there was anything to worry about, she’d let him know.

  MASON’S HEADACHE was no better by dinnertime. In fact, it felt a whole lot worse thanks to the loud music coming from Debra’s bedroom. Doing his best to ignore the heavy bass beat, he pulled a bag of salad out of the refrigerator and tore it open too roughly. Pieces of lettuce spilled onto the counter and the floor, and his frustration spiked.

  He fisted his hands and planted them on the countertop, closed his eyes and counted to ten…three times. It didn’t help.

  She’d taken one look at him when he
walked in the door, marched into her room with her nose in the air, and shut her door on him as he was midsentence. Nothing made Mason crazier than being ignored, and it had taken everything he had not to take her door off its hinges. Something his old man would’ve done.

  At least Barbara had phoned him shortly after five o’clock and assured him that Debra had been home when she arrived. Alone. And that she’d seemed clearheaded.

  His gaze strayed to the far side of the living room and the hallway that led to the small apartment’s two bedrooms. This was normal teenage behavior, he told himself. All kids spent time in their rooms with the door shut.

  He took three deep breaths and let them out slowly. Dinner, he reminded himself, and turned to the stove to check the leftover stew he’d put on the burner a few minutes earlier.

  As he lobbed the empty salad package toward the garbage can, he realized that the trash was in danger of overflowing. He bent to pull a fresh liner from under the sink just as the phone rang, bringing him up too fast—straight into an overhead cupboard he’d left partway open.

  Pain split his head and buckled his knees. He swore, slammed the cupboard shut and grabbed the cordless on the fourth ring. “What?”

  “Hello to you, too. I was hoping to catch you in good spirits. I’m so glad to know my timing was right.”

  After nine years of only occasional phone conversations with his ex-wife, Mason was having as much trouble getting used to talking with her on a regular basis as he was to having a twelve-year-old in the next room. He rubbed his head gingerly and leaned into the corner of the cupboard. “Hello, Alex.”

  “You sound rushed. Did I catch you at a bad time?”

  “No,” he lied, “this is fine. I was just fixing dinner.”

  She laughed, and he imagined her curled in a chair with her feet tucked under her, her glasses pushed up on top of her head. “Lucky Debra. Does she appreciate all the effort you go to?”

  When they were first married, Alexandra had teased him for being so determined to put balanced meals on the table, but she’d gladly relinquished the role of cook. Later, when things began to fall apart, that teasing had turned bitter and she’d taunted him for the last year they were together about what she called his obsession with creating a “perfect” family.

  Perfection had nothing to do with it. All he wanted was functional.

  “I don’t know,” he admitted. “She doesn’t say—to me, anyway. Has she said anything to you?”

  “Not much, but she’s still upset with me so that’s not surprising. I tried calling this afternoon after school, but she wasn’t home.”

  “She wasn’t answering,” Mason said as he swept up the lettuce on the floor. “She’s not all that happy with me, either.”

  “Any special reason? Or was she in one of those moods she gets into because the sky is blue?”

  Should he tell her about Debra’s brush with the authorities? Probably. But some instinct warned him to keep his mouth shut until he knew more. If there was real danger of Debra using drugs, Alex would need to know, but he decided not to say anything until he had all the facts.

  “We had a difference of opinion,” he said, hoping a vague answer would satisfy her. “She didn’t want to hear any more about my opinion, so she ignored the phone all afternoon.”

  “Isn’t that just like her? Honestly, Mason, she used to be so sweet and easy to deal with—and then she turned twelve. It’s like she became someone else entirely.”

  “You also decided to get remarried,” Mason reminded her.

  Alex’s voice took on an edge. “And Bill’s a terrific guy. He adores Debra. He’s bent over backward trying to help her adjust to the changes in our lives. She’s just determined not to adjust. How do you deal with a person like that?”

  “I don’t know, but I don’t think that deciding she’s trouble and shipping her off somewhere else to live is the answer.”

  “Well it’s not as if I just put her on a plane and left her to fend for herself,” Alex snapped. “I sent her to live with her father. Is she getting in your way?”

  “That’s not it at all.” Mason dumped the lettuce into the garbage bag and leaned the broom against the counter. “I love having Debra. It’s what I’ve always wanted. But she’s not happy here. She wants to go home.”

  “Don’t you think I want that, too? Do you think I like this situation?”

  “You could change it anytime you want.”

  “And lose my husband in the process.” Alex’s sigh was heavy with exasperation. “I know you think I’m being a horrible mother, and I understand why you feel that way. But try to see things from my perspective. I finally meet a wonderful man who is everything I ever wanted—no offense intended—and my daughter turns into some unrecognizable creature because of it. Am I supposed to let her ruin my marriage?”

  “Are you sure she doesn’t have cause for her reaction?”

  “If you’re implying there’s something wrong with Bill, stop right there. He’s done absolutely nothing to deserve the way Debra’s been treating him. You’re there with her. You see how impossible she can be. So please don’t judge me. Just give me this time to put a new life together.”

  When Mason didn’t respond immediately, she changed the subject. “Did Debra tell you about the report she has to do in her history class?”

  It took a second for him to process the shift. “What report is that?”

  “She’s supposed to interview her grandparents, but I’m not sure why. She mentioned it to me last time I talked to her.”

  “I don’t think she’s said anything to me about it.”

  “You might want to check with the school to see when it’s due. She’s fallen into the habit of forgetting little things like term papers and tests lately.”

  “I can do that. I’ll have her call your parents and talk to them while I’m home so I can make sure she actually does it.”

  “Yeah. Well, that’s the thing, Mason. She doesn’t want to talk to my parents. She wants to talk to yours.”

  “Mine?” He let out a disbelieving laugh. “My mother is dead and the old man is only God knows where. How does she think she’s going to interview them?”

  “I don’t know. She told me she’d talked to her teacher and they’d figured out an alternative but she didn’t go into detail. I thought you should know—considering how you feel and all.”

  An uncomfortable sensation churned in his stomach. “She can’t do a report on my parents.”

  “She can, you just don’t want her to.”

  “You’re right about that!”

  Alex’s voice grew almost kind. “She feels bad because she doesn’t know anything about them, Mason. She asked me why you never talk about them.”

  “You know why.”

  “Yes, I do. But she doesn’t.”

  Were they really having this conversation? Only Ike knew more than Alex about his childhood and why Mason felt the way he did about his parents. She knew the damage they’d done and how hard Mason had worked to reclaim his life as an adult. “No, Alexandra. The less Debra knows about them, the better.”

  “I’m not so sure, Mason. Whatever their faults, they were her grandparents.”

  “Yeah, and I’ve lived with their legacy for thirty-five years. Trust me, that’s not something Debra needs to be saddled with.”

  “I know how you feel about them,” Alex said. “I do. And I’m not saying you don’t have good reason to feel that way. But you have to remember that Debra isn’t you. She’s never going to have to live with their neglect. It’s an entirely different thing for her than it was for you.”

  “No! Don’t encourage her, Alex, because it’s not going to happen. If she needs to write a report on her grandparents, she can call your folks. You can think I’m the worst father on earth if you want to, but that’s my final word. Now, I’m sure you didn’t call just to argue with me. I’ll call Debra to the phone.”

  “No. Wait. There’s something else. It’s imp
ortant.”

  There was more? Mason ground his teeth together so hard his jaw popped. “So talk.”

  “I know Debra wants to come home,” she said, “and I’m not insensitive to that. But Bill just took on a major client and trial is scheduled for the middle of October. It’s a huge case. There’ll be all sorts of work for him to do to get ready, and he’s desperately concerned about not doing the job right if he’s surrounded by distractions. I think—we both think that it would be better if Debra stayed with you for another six months at least. Until the trial is over, anyway.”

  Six months? Debra would have a fit. And who could blame her? “What are you doing, Alex? Letting Bill’s career come before Debra?”

  “I’m supporting my husband, and don’t sound so smug. It’s not as if you’ve never put your career first. That’s one of the reasons I left, remember?”

  “But this isn’t about me, and it isn’t about you, either.” And it sure wasn’t about Bill. “How are you going to explain this to Debra? She already thinks you’ve chosen Bill over her.”

  “I haven’t,” she snapped. “Bill and I are leaving town for a few days, and I might not get a chance to call again until Sunday. Tell Debra what’s going on. I don’t want her to be surprised by this.”

  “You want me to tell her? No way, Alex. You can deliver your own bad news.”

  “I thought you just said this wasn’t about you.”

  “It’s not. But you’re not being fair to Debra. She feels—”

  “I know how Debra feels,” Alex said, her voice crisp. “She doesn’t exactly hide her feelings. But Bill’s future hinges on this case, and he can’t function at his best if he’s fighting Debra all the time.”

  It had been a long day. A long few days, in fact. Things had gone wrong from the minute Ike walked through the door carrying that damn box of his. Mason’s head hurt, his stomach ached and his nerves had been rubbed raw. “Who can?” he snarled. “You know what I think Bill’s problem is?”

  “No, but I’m sure you’ll tell me.”

  “He doesn’t have kids of his own. He doesn’t get it.”