by Koontz, Rena
On Fortieth Street, the kids moped on the front porch stoops, propping up their heads with their hands, bored with today and wearing yesterday’s clothes. Here in Greenbrier, the little boys and girls playing in their front yards wore coordinated shorts sets and laughed as they chased balls down the sidewalk.
The parallel between the two neighborhoods and her existence struck her as ironic. She’d had a lush, beautiful life once. Now, she lived in the dark.
She picked at the cuticle on her left thumb as the bus approached her stop. She’d reluctantly agreed to meet Officer Cestra at the store, ashamed to let him see where she lived. If only she’d been more forceful in telling him and Amber no.
She jumped off the bus and had walked less than two blocks when a horn beeped and a green pickup pulled to the curb. Clay Cestra stretched across the front seat and the passenger door swung open.
“Mornin’. Hop in.” He kept his hand extended toward the door to help her step into the GMC Sierra. She ignored the proffered help and climbed into the passenger’s seat.
“You didn’t tell me you rode the bus. I could have picked you up.”
“That’s okay.”
“Where to?”
She recited the address she’d memorized from the want ad: 22442 Hough Street.
Clay did a double-take. “Are you familiar with that area?”
She shook her head no. He shifted into drive and when the electric locks secured the doors she tried not to think of it as being trapped in the front seat with a policeman.
“I’m not sure this is going to be what you are looking for.” He eased the truck back into traffic. “But we’ll take a look.”
After a short time of riding in silence, he asked, “How’s the job coming? Are you getting the hang of it?”
She stared straight ahead, her hands clutched tightly in her lap. “I think so. There is still so much that I don’t know. Amber’s a big help though.”
Clay smiled. “She’s a character, all right. Where did you move from?”
She glanced at him then returned her gaze to the street. They had driven into a dilapidated area where houses badly needed to be cleaned and repaired. Battered junk cars lined both sides of the street, despite the no parking signs on the far side. Trash and debris pimpled several front yards. She swallowed hard. “Is this the right neighborhood?”
Clay drove his truck into an open parking space and nodded. “That’s the address right up there. Are you sure the ad said there was furniture for sale?”
She reached into the pocket of her hoodie and removed the newspaper page, showing him the “for sale” ad she’d circled in red.
He shrugged, then reached under the driver’s seat and retrieved a small gun that he tucked behind his back into the waist of his jeans. She gulped.
“Okay. Let’s go check it out.”
He stepped out of the truck and walked to the front, waiting for her. She stiffened and momentarily froze when he clasped her upper arm and guided her down the street. Ignoring several whistles and catcalls from an open window of a house they passed, they climbed three rickety wooden steps to a slanted front porch and Clay knocked on the door, rattling the glass window panes. The door swung open and a large woman stood in front of them wearing a dirty cotton dress with buttons that strained to keep her huge, sagging breasts concealed. Large hoop earrings swung at her ears. Her hair was wrapped in neat rows of pink plastic curlers.
“Whatchoo doin’ here, Officer Clay? Ain’t nobody called for the poleece.”
“Good morning, Mary. My friend here is answering an ad for some furniture.”
The woman turned round, bloodshot eyes on Cassidy, rolling her gaze over Cassidy’s face, her clothes, and her shoes. She smiled, revealing three gaping holes where teeth used to be, threw her head back, and laughed.
“Well, you just come right on in here, Officer Clay, and see if there is anything you like.” She stepped back, opening the door wider into a dimly lit living room. Two young men in blue jeans and undershirts sat in a haze of cigarette smoke, one sprawled on a couch and one reclined in an easy chair. Newspapers piled on a long, low table in front of the sofa attempted to conceal overflowing ash trays and several dirty dishes. Despite the early hour, the room was dark.
Cassidy put one foot on the doorstep to step inside, but Clay held tight to her arm.
“Ah, that’s okay Mary. I don’t think we’re interested after all.”
Cassidy shot him a surprised look. “What? We haven’t … ”
Clay pulled her backward onto the porch. “Thanks anyway.”
Mary put her hand on her hip and glared at him. As she spoke, her upper lip curled. “Whatsa matter? My stuff ain’t good enough for your hoitey toitey friend?”
Cassidy opened her mouth to speak, but Clay tightened his grip on her arm, causing the veins to pop and her fingertips to tingle. He leaned into her to nudge her toward the steps.
“It doesn’t go with our décor.” Now he was stepping sideways, moving into her with his full body, advancing her toward the edge of the porch. Her breath caught in her throat when thick thigh muscles rubbed against her legs.
“Now wait a minute,” Mary screeched. “I coulda sold that stuff yesterday, but she said she wanted it so I held it.” She jabbed her finger in the air toward Cassidy. “She owes me fifty bucks.”
Cassidy gasped and started to protest, but Clay shot her a look to silence her. He reached into his pocket, removed a money clip and counted out two twenties and a ten. He tossed it on the seat of a broken, dirty wicker rocker leaning against the house.
He nudged her down the steps, all the while keeping his eyes on the woman in the front door. “Thanks for your trouble, Mary.”
Mary screeched a string of curses that questioned Clay’s manhood. Even though he bumped Cassidy forward he walked sideways, keeping his eyes on the house. She tried to wrench free, but his grip was firm. Her mouth went dry. One minute he was escorting her to the house and now, he was forcing her from it. His actions both puzzled and angered her.
When they were about four houses away, Clay turned and picked up his pace to close the distance between them and his truck. He touched the keypad to unlock the door and opened it, practically shoving her into the passenger’s seat.
She turned on him the minute he closed the driver’s door.
“What the hell are you doing? I didn’t even get to look at anything.”
The truck tires squealed when he pulled away from the curb. “I was going to ask you the same thing,” he snapped. “What’s the matter with you, coming to a neighborhood like this? Are you looking for trouble?”
“No. I’m looking for furniture. And now, thanks to you, I still don’t have any.”
He laughed in disbelief. “You can’t be serious. How long do you think it would take to get the stink out of that furniture, not to mention the semen stains and puke residue. You really want to sit on crap like that?”
“You didn’t even see it. How do you know what condition it was in?”
“What I know, Cassidy, is that if you had walked in there alone you would have found yourself flat on your back on that filthy furniture.”
Her stomach knotted so tightly she thought she might throw up. “You can’t be serious.”
He leveled his gaze at her. “And you can’t be that naïve.”
Tears welled in her eyes as the gravity of his words sunk in. She nudged her glasses up her nose with a trembling hand and bit her lower lip. Staring into her lap she said softly, “I’m sorry. I, I didn’t know what this neighborhood was like.”
“It’s okay. I’m just glad I was here. Listen, if you are that desperate for furniture, I have some in storage I’ll loan you.”
She glared at him. She was frightened, maybe even stupid, but she was also proud. She sat up st
raighter. “I have a check in my pocket. I’ll make it out to you for the fifty dollars, but you’ll have to wait to cash it, if that’s okay.”
When he threw his head back and laughed, she clenched her jaw, restraining herself from berating him for belittling her.
“You planned to pay for that junk with a check, one that you were going to ask them to hold to boot? Who did you think you’d be dealing with? Bankers? I take it back, you are that naïve. Keep your money, I don’t want it.”
She spit her words back at him. “I don’t need your charity, thanks. I’ll pay you back, don’t worry. And if it makes you happy, I’ll give you cash just as soon as I get my first paycheck. And keep your hand-me-downs. I’ll find furniture somewhere else. Please stop at the next bus stop and let me out of this truck.”
They had navigated to a safer side of town and Clay slowed his speed. When they stopped for a red light, he turned his full attention to her. She squirmed under his gaze. “I apologize. I shouldn’t have laughed at you. You are new in town and unfamiliar with the area.” The stoplight turned green and he refocused on the road, allowing her to exhale.
“The offer to borrow some furniture still stands and it’s not charity. If you go on future shopping expeditions based on the want ads, I suggest you check with Amber or someone first. I’ll be happy to advise you. Where do you live? I’ll run you home.”
That was the last thing she wanted. “You can take me back to the store. I have to work today.”
“That’s in four hours. You plan to sit in the back room all morning? I’ll take you home. Just tell me where it is.”
“You can drop me at the bus stop. I’ll be fine.”
“For Chrissake. Just give me the damn address.”
Cassidy jumped when he yelled and automatically recited her address. Out of the corner of her eye she watched him clench and unclench his hand on the steering wheel, spreading his fingers wide, and then re-gripping the wheel. They drove the remainder of the trip in silence, her heart racing. She didn’t want anyone to know where she lived, especially not a cop.
Clay slowed the truck in front of her building but didn’t shift into park, which kept the doors locked.
“You work until close tonight, isn’t that what Amber said?”
She nodded. “Thanks for the ride. Please unlock the door.”
“Is this the first night you’ve closed the store?”
She nodded again and wished he’d let her out of the damn truck.
“And you plan to take the bus home after work?”
“I’ll be fine.” She pulled on the door handle.
“Do you have a cell phone?”
She raised her eyes to him. She did, one of those pre-paid ones from a drugstore. It was all she could afford. “Yes, why?”
“Keep it handy. You’re going to need it to call the police.” He shifted the truck into park and the locks sprang up. Without another word she exited the truck, slamming the door behind her. She didn’t turn around, but she knew the truck hadn’t budged as she moved up the short walk to the building’s front door. It was supposed to be a security door, but the handle was missing. She opened it without a glance backward and yet she sensed he was watching, his eyes boring holes into her back.
Once inside, with her apartment door dead bolted behind her, she started to sob. This place was wretched, as bad as where she’d just come from. And now he knew where she lived. She’d never felt this lonely, or this alone, in her life. But her life wasn’t hers anymore. And this apartment was temporary, she reminded herself.
She’d be here until she had to run again. Or until that monster hunting her was dead.
Chapter Four
Relief washed over her in one long, deep sigh hours later when she walked into The Packing Place and clocked in. It was a slice of normalcy, a routine she could use to convince herself that she led an ordinary life.
Wayne Keaseling stood behind the counter with Amber, Rosie, and Leslie, another female co-worker. Keaseling only hired women.
He gave her a wide smile and extended his hand to shake hers. The hairs on the back of her neck prickled to attention as she placed her hand in his. He held onto it too long.
“Well? How’s it going? Rosie says you’re doing well. This is your first time to close the store at the end of the day, right?”
She nodded. Rosie stood beside him, almost at attention, and Amber stood behind them both, making faces to their backs. Off to the side, Leslie smiled, a silently amused observer.
Rosie extended a clipboard. “This is what you need to know to finish the day, how to balance, close out the shipments, everything you’ll have to do. You should memorize it, although once you’ve done it as many times as I have, it becomes second nature.”
Cassidy bit her lip, trying not to smile at Amber bobbing her head from side to side and mocking Rosie behind them.
“Amber will help you if you encounter a problem, but I want you to do most of it yourself. You’ll be closing on your own pretty soon. We’ll review everything before I leave.” Rosie regularly worked a daytime shift; she refused to work nights or weekends.
“Thank you.”
Keaseling stepped forward and ran his hand down Cassidy’s back. She stiffened. “Of course, if you have any problems, you only need to call me.”
She stepped away from his touch and pretended to read the pages on the clipboard. Leslie and Amber were attending to customers, so she turned to Rosie. Pointing to a line she said, “Will you explain this to me, please?”
Having been effectively dismissed, Keaseling mumbled he was leaving for the other store and departed. Something about that man made her cringe.
Cassidy suffered under Rosie’s tutelage until the woman clocked out at four. She’d received encouraging winks from Leslie and Amber whenever Rosie couldn’t see. Finally, it was just her and Amber to work the evening shift until they closed at eight-thirty.
The tension in the store dissipated and Cassidy relaxed for the first time all day. The dinner hour regularly was slow and they sat in the back room together, grateful for the break. The customers had been nonstop today.
“So how’d it go this morning?” Amber asked.
Cassidy bit her lower lip and blinked when tears welled in eyes. “Not good. It was a dreadful place and your cop friend scared me to death. I think it will be a while before I try to shop for used furniture again.”
Amber laughed. “Yeah, I heard. C.C. called me this morning. He says if I can’t give you a ride home he’ll come and pick you up. I told you Fortieth Street was a bad neighborhood.”
Her eyebrows shot up. “What? He called you about me?”
Amber’s smile disappeared. “Yeah. He was madder than hell. Says you don’t have a brain in your head. What is it with you? You’re white as a ghost.”
“I don’t like people butting into my life. And I don’t need a ride home. I’ll take the bus.”
Amber stared at her for what seemed like forever, her scrutiny causing Cassidy to shift uncomfortably in her chair.
“Something’s up with you, Cass. Not sure what it is. A jealous husband, maybe? A sordid past? It doesn’t matter to me what you’re trying to hide. Or run from. I pretty much just let people do their thing and I’m okay with it.
“You’re trying hard to put up walls and keep people at arm’s length. That’s cool if that’s the way you want it.” She shrugged. “For some reason, I like you. Not sure why.” She stood as the door chimed, announcing a customer.
“Walls or not, I’ll give you a ride home tonight.”
• • •
Clay jumped in the shower the minute he returned home from his trip to the land of squalor, angry with Cassidy for thinking she could venture into that part of town alone. Angry? He barely knew the woman, yet his reaction had been to call Amber
to make sure Cassidy had a safe way home. If she didn’t, he was ready to play Sir Galahad and escort her safely, even though she’d fight him every minute of the trip. She’d been stupid and reckless to try to buy furniture like that, and it irritated him. He stood beneath the pulsating hot water analyzing his reactions, confused by them actually. She could have been hurt and that upset him.
He probably should have told Cassidy when she recited the address that the house was in an undesirable part of town. He doubted she would have listened. She was determined. Or obstinate. Whatever the word, she was something with her big eyes hidden behind those red glasses and that captivating smile. Reaching for a towel he shook his head, surprised that she was occupying his thoughts. Glimpsing himself in the mirror, his reflection smiled back at him. Wow. Well, his sister had a list of landlord tasks as long as his arm, so his pleasant thoughts about Cassidy Hoake would have to wait.
But he couldn’t keep his mind off of her. When he’d called Amber, he inquired about Cassidy’s last name. Amber knew how to unlock Keaseling’s file cabinet, which for some reason didn’t surprise him, and she provided Cassidy’s last name and birth date. He’d tried to sound casual, asking what else was in the file and, scanning the employment application, Amber said the emergency contact information section was blank. Previous employment listed a convenience store but didn’t specify a name or location.
He’d asked why Keaseling would hire someone without a complete employment application and Amber snorted. “Have you looked at her?”
His heart skipped. Yes, he had. He was unfamiliar with the name Hoake and she’d said she was new in town, but he suspected Cassidy wasn’t from the neighboring areas either. The tiniest touch of an accent hinted she wasn’t an Ohio native. At least he could check that. He called Dan and requested a background search if possible.
Police couldn’t arbitrarily run a check on someone, of course, but it was easy enough to justify a records request as part of another incident, say a traffic stop. It wasn’t a practice the brass sanctioned, but most of the guys did it for each other on the sly. Ms. Hoake would be a passenger in someone’s car tonight, whether she knew it or not.