Dangerous Habits

by Susan Hunter

  I started to follow-up with a question about Cole, but his cell phone began to ring.

  Digging it out of his pocket, he glanced at the number and said, “Sorry, I need to take this,” and stepped into an adjoining room.

  I seized the opportunity to snap a picture of the wall of saints and texted it to Miguel. He would love it. Then I glanced around the room while I waited and noticed another unusual decorating touch—for a priest anyway. A lighted display case on the wall behind his desk contained a selection of handguns. I walked over to peer in closer, then jumped when I heard a voice in my ear.

  “Are you a collector?”

  Startled, I took a step back to reclaim some of my personal space. “No. I’m kind of surprised you are. Handguns and priests don’t go together very well, do they?”

  He smiled. “I agree. The collection was my dad’s. He was a handgun enthusiast. I’m not, but we spent some quality time together at the shooting range, and he left the collection to me when he died a few years ago.”

  “Isn’t that a little dangerous to have around with all these troubled kids?”

  He shrugged. “Students aren’t allowed in staff housing. I doubt if anyone even knows the collection is here. Besides, it’s locked—and wired with an alarm. If anyone tried to break in, security would know right away. Now, where were we?” He moved back to his chair and indicated I should resume my seat as well.

  “I wanted to ask you about Cole Granger. Did you ever see Lacey with him?”

  “Cole Granger?”

  “The temporary groundskeeper, the one who got fired for smoking weed on the job?”

  “That’s right. I forgot about him. As a matter of fact, I did see him once with your sister.”

  “When was this?”

  “A few days before she disappeared.”

  “Did you report it?”

  “No. Why would I?”

  “Because he’s a known drug dealer. Because he was Lacey’s ex-boyfriend. Because maybe, if she was using, he was supplying her.”

  “I’m sorry, but I didn’t know any of that. So no, it didn’t occur to me to link Lacey’s drug use with Cole Granger.”

  “Suspected.”

  “What? Oh, all right. Her suspected drug use.”

  “What were they doing—Lacey and Cole?”

  “Just standing on the sidewalk talking.”

  “You didn’t hear what they were saying, can’t remember how they looked? Was Lacey agitated, or was Cole threatening in any way?”

  “Leah, I’m sorry. I don’t think so, but I really don’t remember much about it. It was just a few seconds and I went on. I only remember it because Cole left a rake laying across the walk, and I tripped and almost broke my neck.”

  “All right,” I said, down but not defeated. “What about Sister Mattea, can you tell me anything about her? Can you think of anything, anything at all that she might have wanted to tell me about Lacey or the way she died?”

  He shifted in his seat a little, clasping his hands together and leaning slightly forward.

  “Leah, I’m very sorry that your sister is dead. But Lacey died because she wasn’t able to overcome her demons. We offered her help, just as you and your mother must have offered help before she wound up here. But no one, not you, not me, not Sister Julianna, or any of the staff here can force someone to be saved if they don’t want to be. Do you really think Sister Mattea had some knowledge that would magically make you and your mother feel better? You can’t rewrite history.” His words were a little harsh though his voice was not.

  “You don’t get it. I’m not trying to rewrite her history; I’m trying to understand it. I think Sister Mattea had a piece of that, and I’m going to keep asking questions until I get the answers I need. The fact that nobody else gets that doesn’t change my mind at all.”

  “Obsession isn’t healthy, Leah.”

  “I’m not obsessed.”

  “Five years after your sister’s death and you’re still looking for answers? Be careful.”

  What was he getting at? Be careful of obsessing? I didn’t need his advice.

  “Meaning?”

  “Meaning your sister’s life is over. Yours isn’t. God always answers our prayers, but sometimes the answer is no.”

  “What’s that, the Catholic version of a fortune cookie?”

  To my surprise he smiled and shook his head, raising his hands in a gesture of surrender. And there was that crinkle around his eyes again. This time I didn’t find it so appealing. Why was everyone talking to me like quick-fix therapists from some reality TV show?

  Eight

  The faded black and white sign for Jorgenson’s rested on top of a pea-green cinderblock building that wasn’t flaking so much as molting. A rusty purple Camaro, with “Bad to the Bone” stenciled on the side over a skull and crossbones, was the only car in the lot. I parked and went inside, but there was no one behind the scratched and dented Formica counter.

  An out-of-date State Bank of Himmel calendar on the wall announced that it was December 2009. I opened the door on the left and was immediately hit with mixed smells of rubber, oil, and gasoline. Rows of tires lined one wall. The concrete floor was sticky with accumulated layers of grease and dirt. On the far side of the garage, a pair of legs on a rolling cart protruded from beneath a green van.

  “Hello? Have you got a minute?” I called.

  There was no answer, but after a few seconds the cart came rolling out from under the van. A man in greasy jeans and dirty t-shirt stood and swaggered toward me.

  “You need your tires rotated, sweetheart? You oughta make an appointment, but I might be able to fit you in.” He gave me a look that I guessed was supposed to be sexy. It wasn’t.

  “Forget about it. It’s me. Leah. Lacey’s sister.”

  We hadn’t exactly been friends, so I wasn’t surprised that he didn’t recognize me. But I wouldn’t forget him. Thin, petulant mouth, yellow-flecked green eyes, slicked-back mud-colored hair, thick-chested, muscular body. A dragon tattoo started under his sleeve and ran all the way down his hairy forearm.

  He did a double-take, and his demeanor went from flirtatious to surly.

  “Huh. Whadya want?”

  “I want to know if you were supplying Lacey with drugs after she went to DeMoss Academy.”

  “What’re you talkin’ about?”

  “Let’s cut the crap, Cole. I know you worked there. I know you saw Lacey there. I know you got fired for smoking weed on the job. And I know you spent time in jail on drug charges. What I want to know is, did you sell to Lacey while she was at DeMoss?”

  “I ain’t got time for this.”

  “I’m aware that you and my sister were in a relationship.”

  “In a relationship?” He snorted. “Me and your sister wasn’t in a relationship. We was hook-up buddies more like.” He watched to see my reaction. What had Lacey ever, ever seen in this guy?

  “I know you and Lacey had sex; you’re not shocking me. I’m pretty sure that’s all you had. But she spent a lot of time with you before she went to DeMoss, and I know you saw her there. It’s a simple question. Did you sell her drugs?”

  “No. And I never hooked up with your sister at her junior jail. And I ain’t no drug lord either. Would I be workin’ here, if I was? Or at that lousy job they fired me from at the nuns?”

  “You might. Nice potential customer base there. And if you weren’t selling how’d you wind up in jail?”

  “Somebody had it in for me, that’s all.”

  “Right.” I tried changing tactics. “Look, Cole, I’m trying to find out what happened the day Lacey died. I’m not here to bust your balls, or get you in trouble. I just want to find out the whole truth about my sister.” I explained briefly about Sister Mattea’s message.

  “Mattea. She the one used to walk out to the Point every day?”

  I nodded.

  “She was all right. Least she’d say hello like you was a human being.” He seemed to be sof
tening a little.

  “Cole, you told the police you didn’t see Lacey the day she disappeared. I think maybe you did.”

  “Yeah? Why’s that?”

  “If she was running away, she’d need someone to help her at least get into town so she could catch a bus, or to the highway so she could hitch a ride. Who could she call, but you? And you were talking to her just a few days before she left. Did she ask you to help her?”

  He looked at me, seemed to be weighing something in his mind, then shrugged.

  “All right. Yeah. I seen her. But I ain’t tellin’ the cops that because I don’t know nothing about what happened to your sister. She told me she was bustin’ out of there. Said could I give her and a friend a ride, and we could have a little party before she left town. Lacey always was a party girl. So, I said yeah.”

  My heart started racing but I tried to look calm. I didn’t want to spook him. “So, what happened?”

  “I meet her like we planned at that big rock, Simon’s Rock they call it, off the Baylor Road entrance around 10:30. I ask her where’s her friend, and then this snot-nosed little kid, he comes creepin’ out from behind the rock. I didn’t want no part of some whiny brat. I said no way. She tried to sweet talk me. When that didn’t work, she pitched a fit. I grabs her arm, just to calm her down like, but then she hauls off and kicks me in the nuts. Then she and the kid took off. Your sister was batshit crazy.”

  “What kid? What was Lacey doing with a kid? Who was it?”

  “How should I know? I didn’t want to get mixed up in anything then, and I sure as hell don’t want to now.”

  “Did she go to a party that night with her roommate?”

  “Like I said, I don’t know what happened to your sister. Alls I know is I had nothin’ to do with it. She took off, and I went over to my girlfriend Amber’s. I told the police that’s where I was, and she did, too. Except for the part about seeing Lacey.”

  “Nothing to do with it? Don’t you realize that if you had given Lacey a ride like she asked, she might still be alive? Or, if you at least had told the police—they could’ve found that kid. Maybe he had something important to tell them.

  “My mother and I put up flyers at bus stops, and haunted teen runaway centers and jumped every time the phone rang for six months, trying to get word on what happened to Lacey. Until we got the call that my little sister was dead! If you had helped her, maybe she wouldn’t be!” My voice was loud and ragged, and my nails bit into the palms of my hands.

  He stepped in so close I took an involuntary step back. His face was contorted with anger and he spat out the words. “You always did think you’re better’n me and your shit don’t stink. Well it does lady, and there’s a pile of it in the middle of your nicey nice little family.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean Lacey’s problem wasn’t drugs. And it wasn’t me. It was whoever made her his little baby doll. You had to know. You just didn’t want that kind of mess in the middle of your perfect little life.”

  What was he talking about? That I wasn’t there for Lacey? I already knew that. I didn’t need this jerk to tell me. “What are you saying?”

  “I’m saying somebody raped your little sister and kept on doin’ it, and you didn’t do nothing about it.”

  “You’re lying.” My brain refused to process what he was saying, but my stomach had dropped like I’d stepped off a cliff.

  “You ask yourself, why would that nice little girl from nice little family USA start hangin’ out with the likes of me and my friends? Why’d she start smokin’ weed and poppin’ pills? Why did little princess turn into such a mad little bitch. Somebody turned her into one. I ain’t lyin.’ ”

  “Stop it. You are. You’re lying. Lacey would’ve told me something like that. She would’ve told me. It’s not true.”

  “Would she now? Seems like she didn’t though. Maybe you was too busy with your big, important career. Cause you’re so important ain’t you, Leah? And you’re so much smarter’n the rest of us, ain’t you?”

  “You’re lying,” I repeated in a flat voice. I pressed my lips and swallowed hard against a wave of nausea. Could it be true? Had Lacey been sexually abused? Was that why she was so angry, so self-destructive? But why wouldn’t she tell me? It didn’t make sense. But why would Cole even say it? Why would he lie?

  I realized that he was still talking. This time, though, there was a smirk on his face and pseudo sympathy in his voice.

  “It sure would be upsettin’ to me. Thinkin’ I let my little sissy down like you did. The guilt must be killin’ you. I’d help if I could, but I can’t tell you much except it happened. See, Lacey talked a lot. She was one of those drunks that just can’t shut up. But me, I’m not what you’d call a real good listener. But I bet your Sister Mattea was. Maybe that’s the big secret she wanted to tell you.”

  “Shut up. Shut the hell up.” My head had begun to pound and a warm flush spread through my body. I needed to go.

  He leaned in close again, and I felt his hot, fetid breath on my face. He grabbed my wrist and in a rasping whisper said, “Alls I know is, if it was me, I wouldn’t be wasting time botherin’ a poor, workin’ man like myself. I’d be askin’ to find out who messed with my little sis. Cause maybe that’s the one who really knows what happened the day she died. And don’t be tryin’ to drag me into it. I said all I’m gonna say, and I ain’t sayin’ nothin’ to the police.”

  He flung my wrist down so forcefully it cracked. Then he said in a normal voice, as though we’d been doing normal business, “Tell your boss we been holdin’ his spare here for two months. He needs to pick it up. He gets a flat, he’ll be shit outa luck. Besides, we ain’t a storage locker.”

  Nine

  I must have stopped at traffic lights, and yielded for pedestrians, and driven the speed limit, and parked my car, and passed for a normal person on the drive from Jorgenson’s to McClain’s, because I didn’t get pulled over, but I had no awareness of the trip.

  Coop was waiting when I got there. I guess I looked as bad as I felt, because within seconds of spotting me walk through the door, he led me to a booth, ordered me a drink, and sat down across from me. “What’s wrong?” His eyebrows were drawn together in a concerned frown.

  “I’m all right. Stop looking at me like you expect me to keel over.”

  “Take a drink,” he said as the waiter put down a Jameson on the rocks. “Then tell me what’s going on. Something is up.” His dark gray eyes searched my face.

  “I think Lacey was sexually abused when she was 14.”

  There. Saying it out loud should make it go away, right? I mean, it was crazy. If I said the words, I’d hear how ridiculous they were. But they weren’t.

  “All right. OK, take it easy. Why would you think that?” His voice was carefully neutral, but he couldn’t conceal the shock in his expression.

  I told him what Cole had said. He rubbed the side of his jaw with his thumb and waited for me to go on.

  “I know Cole lies as easy as breathing, but think about it, Coop. Why this lie, why this time? What’s the purpose? It’s not getting him out of anything, in fact, it’s getting him in deeper. He could’ve just kept denying that he saw Lacey at all. What he said, I just have a gut feeling it’s true.”

  I waved away Sherry who had come to take our order, apparently having ousted the waiter when she realized Coop was sitting there. But Coop overruled me and asked for two burger baskets and water for both of us. Sherry tried a little flirting, but got nowhere. For once I didn’t have the stomach for even a small victory smirk.

  “What do you think?”

  “I think you’re putting a lot on the word of a punk.”

  “But it’s not just him,” I said, eager to make my point. “It’s not just what Cole said. Look at the rest of it, Coop. I did a story on sexual abuse of adolescents a couple of years ago. The sexual acting out, the drug use, the withdrawal from family, those are all symptoms. Lacey was a textbook case
.

  “She didn’t morph into a demon child. Somebody made her that way. I just don’t understand why she never told us, or at least me.” Except, maybe I did. I had been really wrapped up in my own life then. Involved in my first serious relationship, anxious to prove myself at work, to get ahead. I didn’t have as much time for my family as I should have. Maybe I didn’t want to hear anything that would disrupt my happy new world.

  “Slow down, Leah. For the moment let’s say you’re right. There are lots of reasons for a teenage girl not to talk about sexual abuse. Shame, guilt, fear. Her abuser can convince her it’s her fault. Tell her that no one will believe her, maybe even threaten her or her family.”

  “I should have seen. I should have known. She should’ve been able to trust me.”

  “It’s not a matter of trust. Are you listening to me? Kids that age, they’ve got so much going on, they don’t think straight. She may have been trying to protect you. Or your mom.”

  “I should have figured it out.”

  “Leah, c’mon. You don’t even know that it happened.” He was right, I didn’t know, but somehow it felt true.

  “I know it might not make sense to you, but I have a feeling—all right, maybe it’s more like a fear—I don’t think Cole is lying.”

  He tried another tack. “OK, even if it did happen. You can’t do anything about it. Lacey is gone and without her, how could you prove anything? Timmins isn’t about to prosecute on behalf of a dead sexual abuse victim.”

  “No. But he’d have to if she were a murder victim.” Where did that come from? I didn’t even know I was thinking it until I said it, but Coop’s immediate negative response didn’t dissuade me.

  “Whoa. Whoa, whoa, whoa. How did we get from suspected sexual abuse to murder?”

  “Did you read the investigation report?” I reached across the table and grabbed his arm, trying to shake him into the growing sense of certainty I felt.