He jogged over and opened the front passenger door. “Grady keeps go bags in his truck for the kids. He asked me to bring these to you. He also said the brats—” he threw a wink at the kids in the back, “—are all yours for at least two days. He needs a break and is heading to the bar.”
“Has it been that bad?” I asked, feeling genuinely guilty.
“No,” Tech laughed. “Just busy. Between the kids and the new trainees, he’s been running until he drops most days. But he’s good. Promise. We’d tell you if he wasn’t.”
“How are the trainees doing?”
“Don’t know. You’ve kept me jumping from case to case, so I haven’t been able to check in on the other parts of the business. Which reminds me,” he said as he pulled the strap of an attaché over his head and dropped the bag into the SUV, “Donovan wants a full profile on each trainee. He also wants you to look at the Stevenson stalker case.”
“Homework.” I sighed, looking down at the over-stuffed attaché. “Lovely.”
“Suck it up, buttercup.” Tech stepped back, away from the SUV. “I gotta go. I’m meeting Grady for a cold one.”
Before I could argue, Tech closed the door and jogged back to his bike.
Sara giggled in the backseat. “You’re stuck with us now.”
“I’m hungry,” Nicholas said.
“Cheeseburgers and chocolate milkshakes, coming up,” I said, turning left onto the paved road.
~*~*~
A half an hour later we sat in a small diner, the kids shoveling their food like they were starving and me reading the files Tech had left for me.
“Mohhhmm?” Nicholas asked with a mouthful of his burger.
I grinned over the top of one of the trainee’s folders. “Chew your food first.”
Nicholas dramatically chewed his food as Sara giggled. When he was done, his face transformed into his serious expression. I set the folder I had been reading down and waited.
“Do you still love me?” he asked.
“Of course. With all my heart. Even when you have ketchup smeared across your face.” I reached over the table to wipe his cheek. “I didn’t leave because I didn’t love you, either of you.”
“Grady said you left because you have the fidgets,” Sara said.
“The fidgets?”
Nicholas nodded. “You can’t sit still yet. He said he was like that after the war for a long time, and he felt better if he kept moving around from job to job.”
“I suppose there’s some truth to that. But it’s hard to explain.”
“Will you try?” Sara asked, not looking up from the french fry she was swirling in her ketchup. “Will you try to explain it?”
I tucked the folder into the attaché and folded my arms on the table. They deserved for me to try. “I’m not sure it will make sense. I watch all of you laughing, enjoying life, and I can’t figure out how you do it. I’ve tried. But I’ve seen too many bad things. I’ve done too many bad things. I don’t know how to make peace with it. Working the cases, moving around, helps somehow. I can focus on just one thing at a time.”
“But it’s dangerous,” Nicholas said, pouting.
“I know,” I said, reaching across the table to push his bangs out of his eyes. “You get scared for me, and I love you for that. But you want me to play Mom, Sara wants me to play Aunt, Grady wants me to play Girlfriend, and I just can’t figure out how to be any of those people right now. I had to be a different kind of person to get you back and to protect everyone afterward, and I don’t know how to stop being that person.”
“I’m okay with you being a badass,” Sara said.
“Language,” Nicholas and I both said to her.
She giggled and ate her ketchup-soaked french fry.
“Will you ever come home?” Nicholas asked, pushing his plate away.
“Yes.” I leaned closer, waiting to make eye contact again with him. “Maybe I won’t be able to stay for long periods, but I’ll always come home. You kids mean everything to me. Never doubt that.”
Nicholas nodded but ducked his head and excused himself, heading for the bathroom. I knew he was trying to hide the tears in his eyes, and it about broke my heart.
“He’s okay most of the time,” Sara whispered, watching him walk away. “Grady keeps telling him that when you find a good balance, you’ll come home more.”
“That’s awful nice of Grady. Especially since he’s probably just as upset with me.”
“He’s not mad. For real, he’s not,” Sara said, shaking her head. “He said that if you didn’t love us, you wouldn’t have left.”
“What do you mean?”
“That if you would’ve stayed, you would’ve lashed out at the people around you. But you couldn’t allow that to happen. At least, that’s what Grady thinks.”
I didn’t have a response, but Nicholas returned so it was best to change the subject, anyway. “Well, we have two days together. What should we do?”
“Can we go to Cedar Point?” Sara asked, her eyes lighting up.
“They’re closed, dummy,” Nicholas said, rolling his eyes.
“I’m not dumb!” Sara glared.
“Are too!” Nicholas said.
“Stop!” I said, closing my eyes and counting to five. “We are not going to Cedar Point or any other amusement park. Try again.”
“Can we go to Miami? Visit Aunt Charlie?” Nicholas asked.
“Aunt Charlie’s not in Miami,” Sara said. “She’s in jail.”
I threw my head back in surprise, looking at Sara.
“No, she’s not!” Nicholas yelled.
“Is too!” Sara yelled back.
I raised my hand for them to silence their bickering, which they immediately did. Last I knew, Kierson had dragged Charlie back to Miami. But I hadn’t seen or talked with her in several months. She’d been angry with me because I hadn’t shared secrets from our childhood. Secrets regarding both our parents and the town’s sheriff where we grew up. Knowing she’d likely get herself in trouble, I had sent Kierson, both an FBI agent and a friend, to check on her. He had called a week later saying he had convinced her to go back to work. I figured she’d reach out when her anger faded, but it had been radio silence.
“Sara, what do you know?” I asked.
“You’ll be mad at me if I tell you.”
“You were eavesdropping on an adult conversation again, which no, I don’t approve of. But regardless, tell me what you heard.”
“Someone called Aunt Katie last night and told her that Aunt Charlie was in jail for assault. Aunt Katie told Uncle Grady, and Uncle Grady said he’d handle it.”
“In Miami?”
“No. In Michigan. Saddle Creek, maybe?”
“Sadler Creek?”
“Yeah. That one.”
The last place I wanted to go was Sadler Creek, my childhood hometown, but I didn’t have a choice. Charlie was trying to right the wrongs of both our pasts. “Gather your stuff,” I said as I collected my shoulder bag and the attaché case. “Let’s get your aunt out of jail.”
Chapter Three
After all the years I’d been away, Sadler Creek appeared unchanged. The courthouse sat in the center of town with its rich green lawn welcoming visitors to the eerily vacant park benches. The police station sat across the street next to the one-screen theatre that advertised a movie that hadn’t been popular since the eighties. Only a handful of vehicles were parked along main street’s curbs, but their owners were nowhere in sight. Small towns typically either thrived and grew, or they slowly withered into decay. Not Sadler Creek. It remained as it always was, perfectly maintained and frozen in time.
I drove through town, watching the speedometer, forcing myself to keep pace with the posted speed limit. Everything inside me screamed to floor the gas and get the hell out of there, but I kept going, through town and another block past, before I turned right. At the next block, I made another right turn into the parking lot of the one-story community hospital. I par
ked and stared at the motion activated glass doors of the building. The last time I had passed through those doors was to visit Charlie after her father had broken her arm.
The sound of the kids unbuckling their seatbelts pulled my attention away from the building in front of me. I glanced back as they shuffled forward, watching me. Their grins of anticipation had me thinking of how disturbing their own upbringing was turning out to be. I shook my head, scattering the thoughts as I reached into my shoulder bag for my tablet. I had called Tech, asking him to send me the details of the arrest. The information he’d sent was exactly what I’d expected. Charlie had attacked her father in a local bar, breaking several bones which required him to stay in the hospital. The email also said Charlie’s bail was denied, despite the expensive lawyer Grady had hired.
“Charlie, you’re such a dumbass,” I mumbled, tucking the tablet back into my bag.
“Why are we at the hospital instead of the prison?” Sara asked.
“Charlie’s not in prison. She’s in jail. And we’re at the hospital because I need to have a word with her father.” I turned in my seat to look at the kids. “I can’t leave you two in the car, but we’re going to be around some very bad people, so stay close.”
“Got it.” Nicholas pushed his door open and jumped out of the SUV.
Sara scurried to follow him as I sighed one last time, already regretting bringing them with me. I should’ve found someone to watch them.
The icy air slapped my skin as the motion-activated glass doors parted and we walked past. I reached out, resting a hand on the kids’ shoulders to pull them closer to my sides as I maneuvered us around the familiar hallways, past the E.R., past the radiology unit, and toward the patient section of the hospital.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” a familiar voice said from the nursing station.
“Marilyn.” I smiled, waiting for the nurse to walk around the counter for a hug.
Whenever Charlie had been hurt enough to require a stay in the hospital, Marilyn always made sure to be assigned to her room. She was the only bright spot during those troubling times.
“I figured you’d make a trip to town when I heard Charlie was arrested, but I didn’t expect you to visit your uncle.”
“Believe me, he’s not going to appreciate the visit. Which room is he in?”
“Room eight.” She glanced at her watch. “It’s time for my break. Do you want me to take these two beautiful kids of yours out to the pavilion?”
“That would be an excellent idea. Thank you.”
“Ah, man,” Nicholas whined.
“No fair.” Sara pouted.
“No arguing,” I said. “Be good for my friend Marilyn.”
Sara crossed her arms over her chest, scowling. Nicholas dragged his feet as Marilyn nudged them both down the hall and around the corner. The pavilion was surrounded by glass windows and monitored not only by security, but visible from the small dining room, two waiting rooms, and some offices. The kids would be safe, and I had no doubt Marilyn could keep them out of trouble.
Turning down another hallway, I walked through the open door of room eight, closing it behind me. Aunt Cecil lowered the Redbook magazine she was reading when she heard me enter.
“Well, look what the cat dragged in, Mark,” she said, tossing her magazine on the window sill as she stood to face me.
I glanced at my uncle. An arm and a leg were in heavy plaster casts, but it was the metal plate bracing the bridge of his nose with strips of tape holding it to his bruised and battered face that made me snort. Charlie had let out a shitload of rage on her old man.
“Fuck you,” my uncle said, reading my thoughts.
I glanced behind me when I heard the door open. My nana, my grandmother on my mother’s side, walked in, followed by Grady.
“Nana,” I said before turning my eyes back to my aunt. “You shouldn’t be here.”
“Nonsense, girl. One of my granddaughters is sitting in a cell, and I’ll be damned if she’s gonna stay there.”
“I’m calling the police,” Aunt Cecil huffed, reaching for her purse.
I crossed the room before she had the phone’s screen unlocked, snatching it from her and tossing it to the floor behind me. My aunt shrieked, moving between the bed and the window.
I glanced behind me as Nana raised her thick orthopedic black shoe over the phone and stomped with enough force that plastic pieces ricocheted against the wall.
“Grady? Would you be a dear and encourage my uncle to keep quiet?”
I heard Grady move closer to the bed. I took my aunt’s purse, still clutched in her hands, and tossed it to the floor behind me. I wrapped a hand around her neck as I snaked a foot behind her ankle. In one quick pivot, I rotated her so she lost her balance and fell backward over my uncle’s legs. Her eyes widened as her upper body hung upside down over one end of the bed, unable to change positions because of my tightened grip around her neck. Her legs whipped back and forth trying to find leverage from the other end of the bed. Her eyes were bright with fear, but the lack of oxygen kept her from screaming.
Grady growled from a few feet away, “You bite me, fucker, and I’ll break your neck.” I glanced over, noting he held a hand over my uncle’s mouth. Uncle Mark thrashed in pain from my aunt’s weight on his broken leg, but he managed to nod that he understood.
“Hear me,” I hissed, leaning over to glare at my aunt. “Get my mother and your husband in line. I want the charges against Charlie dropped. If you don’t, I’m coming after you. Never forget, I’m my mother’s daughter. You do not want to find out how ruthless I can be.”
My aunt’s eyes widened again as she attempted to nod. I relaxed my grip enough for her to suck a minute amount of air into her lungs.
“Don’t think of trying to double-cross me, either. You can’t win in a war against me. Others have tried. They found themselves six feet under. You get Charlie out by the time I get to the police station—or I’ll be back.”
She nodded frantically again as tears washed her black mascara in streaks across her face.
If I was dealing with my mother, a different tactic would’ve been necessary. But my aunt was simple, vain, and shallow, only caring for her own welfare. She enjoyed watching pain inflicted on others, but a threat against her own body was unimaginable.
I released her neck, stepping back as she rolled to her side to gain her balance. My uncle’s muffled screams were contained by Grady’s tight grip.
Nana walked to the opposite side of my uncle’s bed. “The girls won’t tell me how bad things got when they were kids, but I’m glad Charlie got a chance to give some back. And this is from me,” she said before she punched him in the nose.
Blood gushed across his face as the bridge of his nose flattened under the flimsy metal support. Both Nana and Grady stepped back as Uncle Mark covered his nose with his hand. Blood ran between his fingers as he sobbed.
“Nice jab.” I pulled Nana by her elbow around the bed and toward the door.
“Next time warn me,” Grady said from behind us. “I got blood on my shirt.”
“Sorry.” Nana snickered. “Didn’t know it was gonna just pop like that. I hardly touched the thing.”
My brother Jeff was walking toward my uncle’s door as we walked out. He stopped, looked at me, then Nana, then at the hospital door. A slow grin tipped the corners of his mouth before he turned on a heel and walked away.
“I don’t like your brothers,” Grady said.
“They’re good boys, as far as pansies go,” Nana said, shaking her head. “It’s the women in our family who run the show, though.”
“I wonder where that tradition started,” I said as I led us toward the pavilion.
“According to my great-great grandmother, we’re descendants of Queen Mary.”
“Which one?” Grady asked. “The one who burned people at the stake, or the one who was beheaded?”
“I don’t know,” Nana said, turning to loop her arm through Grady’s. �
�My great-great grandmother drank heavily and bent the tales enough that I could never get an answer from her.”
“What about Mary II?” I asked as we exited into the pavilion. “It could’ve been her?”
“Not likely,” Nana said, shaking her head. “History books say she was a nice queen.”
“I’m nice!” I said, raising an eyebrow at Nana.
“You can’t fool me, dear,” Nana said as she walked toward the kids.
Grady’s arm wrapped around my shoulders as he pulled me against his warm body. His chest shook as he laughed.
“Nana!” Nicholas called as he raced over to embrace her.
“There’s that handsome devil of mine,” Nana bellowed. “My, you’ve grown so big. Breaks my heart that you were away so long.”
“Who are you?” Sara asked.
“I’m Nicholas’ grandmother. And, you, little lady, must be Sara. I’ve heard you’re a treat to hang out with.”
Upon hearing that Nana was a relative, Sara took a step back and looked at me.
Nana chuckled. “Ah, she’s smart, too! She knows being family isn’t necessarily a good thing.”
“Depends on the definition of family,” Sara said, narrowing her eyes at Nana.
“I agree.” Nana patted her head. “Now, shall I call you Sara? Or I hear the nickname little-bug is more common.”
“Only Aunt Kelsey calls me little bug, and I’m getting too big for nicknames.”
“Too big for nicknames?” Nana barked out a laugh. “Oh, little one. Give it twenty years. The nicknames change, but they get a lot racier, so—”
“Ahem,” Grady interrupted by loudly clearing his throat.
“What do you mean?” Sara asked, stepping closer.
“Ask her twenty years from now,” Grady said. “We need to go.”
I walked over to Marilyn, hugging her goodbye. The kids surprised me by hugging her as well, thanking her for watching them. Both Nicholas and Sara tended to distrust adults. But Marilyn was a straight shooter, even with children. If asked a question, or fifty, she’d answer honestly every time. It was that trait which drew me to her when I was their age.
Day and Night Page 2