#7-9--The O’Connells

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#7-9--The O’Connells Page 9

by Lorhainne Eckhart


  His phone rang as he drove, and he damn near landed on it, pressing the green button and seeing the private number, knowing it had to be his brother. He put the speaker on.

  “What’s going on?” Marcus said. Owen could hear voices in the background and what sounded like cars, too, as if he were outside or driving.

  “Just found something out regarding Hunter,” Owen said. “Did you know that Rita Mae is his aunt?”

  There was silence on the other end, and he thought he also heard the police scanner in the background.

  “No, I didn’t,” Marcus said. “You sure about this? Who told you?”

  What was he supposed to say to that? “Yeah, Tessa told me. I guess she thought everyone knew. Just giving you the heads-up because you said you were going to see Hunter…”

  “I have Hunter in the back of my car in cuffs,” Marcus said. “His parents and lawyer are meeting me at the station. I’ve mirandized him, but he basically told me to fuck off, the little shit, and his parents, too. Had no choice. What I’ve got is weak, and the lawyer is already demanding to know the charges, as I’ve got only Amanda’s statement, which was unofficial, as her dad doesn’t know. Harold is already over at Belinda’s. Haven’t heard how that went, but hopefully he finds out about the app on her phone, the list of pills, or maybe she’ll give us something on Hunter. Can only hope she’s willing to toss him under the bus to save her own skin. But that would be wishful thinking, considering the lawyers are jumping into this and shutting it down.”

  He could hear his brother’s frustration. “What do you plan on doing about Rita Mae?” he added as he drove. At the same time, his cell phone beeped with another incoming call.

  “Don’t know yet, but I’ll be having a talk with her. Let me deal with the Hunter thing, and then I’ll figure out Rita Mae.”

  “Just so you know, Marcus, with the threats she made and how someone dug up what I buried, if it was her, it could mean a world of problems for Mom, for you…”

  Marcus cut in. “And for you, Owen. Look, I’ll deal with it, but we need to talk to Mom today, so as soon as I finish, I’ll call you. I’ve gotta go.”

  Owen’s phone buzzed again, so he hung up and pressed the answer button. “Yeah? Owen here,” he said before looking at the caller ID.

  “It’s Tessa, Owen,” she said. “Rita Mae just called again. I know you said you didn’t want me to talk to her, and I haven’t, but she’s going to keep calling. There’s something wrong. I’ve never heard her so upset…”

  He just shook his head, that sick feeling pulling like a knot in the pit of his stomach. “Yeah, something is wrong,” he said. “At least now I know why. You know what? Tell me where she lives. I’m going to go see her.”

  There was silence on the other end.

  “Tessa…” he prompted.

  “Yeah, I’m still here. Why do you want to go see her?”

  He really didn’t want to answer. “She’s neck deep in something here, and somehow, in all this, she seems to have taken issue with me. It’s completely irrelevant, and I think it’s time she and I sort some things out. It’s likely best that you stay out of it. Whatever has happened, Tessa, I don’t want you involved.”

  “Well, that’s the thing: I am involved. Look, I’m not sure what her issues are with you and why she’s stuck on some old scandal or what this is about, but if you’re planning on going over there to see her, I’m coming too,” she said. Then she rattled off the address, an area he knew well, only a few blocks from where he was.

  “Thanks, Tessa, but do me one favor?”

  He could hear her in the background as she pulled in a breath as if considering. “Okay, as long as you’re not about to tell me not to come, because I’m on my way.”

  He would’ve smiled or laughed if the situation weren’t so dire. “No, I wouldn’t do that. I get it, but please just give me a few minutes with her one on one. Don’t rush. Give me some time to talk to Rita Mae, just her and me. Because whatever this is that she has against me, I do want to settle it without her adding one more stab about my character and my family’s. A long time ago, my dad left, and many people wondered what happened. The gossip was atrocious, the scandal, the accusations. I was a kid, but she wasn’t.”

  He hoped she understood, because the last thing he wanted was for Tessa to hear how he had buried something eighteen years ago and his dad had never been heard from again. The knife, the blood, it was something he couldn’t explain, and it would cast a shadow and open an investigation into something he wanted to shut down.

  He willed her to say yes. There was so much to what had happened that Marcus was right about. They needed to sit their mom down and have a talk, but whatever it was that she’d done, he’d do everything he could to make sure she was left untouched.

  “As long as you promise me that whatever this is, Owen, it won’t come between us.”

  He pulled in a breath as he turned down the street, seeing newer homes, larger yards. He counted off the house numbers. “I’ll see you later,” was all he could make himself say.

  He pulled up in front of the house, a new build with a red minivan in the driveway. Owen parked his plumbing van out front. He realized that this could make or break any hope of a future he had with Tessa. For the first time in what felt like forever, he hated someone, Rita Mae, who seemed to be the one person standing in the way of his chance at happiness.

  Chapter Fifteen

  He listened to the chime of the doorbell and heard footsteps on the stairs before the door opened, and he took in Rita Mae’s short red hair and round face. Her eyes were an odd shade of icy blue. She wore a white robe, and her hand went to her neck, pulling the robe closed, holding it. It took only a second for Owen to realize how rattled she was.

  “Owen…ah, what are you doing here?” She looked around him, and he sensed annoyance, nervousness. He knew he was the last person she’d expected to see on her doorstep.

  “Came to have a word with you. You mind if I come in?”

  For a minute, he had the feeling she’d say no.

  “Well, as you can see, this isn’t a good time. I was just about to get dressed, and then I have to go out…”

  He didn’t pull his gaze from her. “This won’t take long. I guess I can just stand here at your front door, then, and ask you why you keep calling Tessa, trying to warn her away from me. Funny thing about that little warning in the diner: I couldn’t figure out what the hell was going on with that threat you made against my family. Then I found out this morning that Hunter is your nephew, and he’s one of the kids being questioned in what happened to Jackson Moore. Should we talk about this out here?”

  He just stood there, then watched as she stepped back, the door open wide. She gestured for him to come in, and she closed the door behind him, then took a second with her hand on the doorknob before gesturing to the stairs, which led up to an open living room and kitchen. He walked ahead of her and took in the fireplace, the photos on the mantle, the furniture in blues and greens.

  Rita Mae was still holding her housecoat closed with one hand, and he could see she was likely taking a minute to figure out what to say to him. There was that little issue of the threat against him and the missing knife and bloody cloth. Did she have it?

  “You know, when I got the call for the plumbing emergency at the school, I remember you kept going on about kids and pranks and how you had been expecting something. I have to wonder about that now, considering what you said to me in the diner. I was a kid back then, but it sounds as if you’re trying to hold something over me and my family.”

  She shrugged. “You’d likely go to all kinds of lengths to protect your family, wouldn’t you, Owen?”

  What the hell was he supposed to say to that? Of course he would, and he had.

  “Don’t answer that,” she said. “I can tell by your face, your expression. Well, you should know that so will I. Kids do stupid things sometimes, all the time. You should know that better than anyone.”<
br />
  “So this is about protecting Hunter,” he said, really glad Tessa wasn’t there yet.

  Rita Mae gave him everything and then pulled in a breath as she glanced away and strode around him, over to the kitchen, putting the island between them. She flattened her hand on the counter and seemed to study the laminate.

  “I saw you that night, Owen, in the woods. Couldn’t figure out why you were out there. It was late, and you were young. I was with someone…” She stopped talking, and he could feel the floor softening, stuck in that moment of D-day.

  “Who, Rita Mae? Who were you with?”

  She lifted her hand. “Doesn’t matter. Let’s just say I was out there and saw how upset you were. I saw you burying something…”

  “And you, what, dug it up?”

  She didn’t smile but seemed to still as she pulled in another breath. “You buried a knife and a cloth with blood on it. It wouldn’t have taken a detective to figure out that you’d done something, but I didn’t have a clue what it meant. Then, next I heard, your dad had disappeared, left town, and no one knew anything. I was working then as an apprentice at the hair salon in town and heard the gossip and the stories. Lord, you have no idea. Everyone had a theory—that he’d run off with a mistress, that he’d done something and the law was after him. When no one heard from him, people said that maybe he was dead. Of course, by then I should have taken the knife in to the sheriff, but I realized I could be implicated, so I just sat on it. So did you kill your father, Owen?”

  There it was, the one thing he’d never expected anyone to ask.

  “Of course not,” he said, but the way she was looking at him, he knew she didn’t believe him. If it had been him, he likely wouldn’t have believed him, either. “So what does this have to do with Hunter? You want to jam up me, my family, Marcus? What exactly is your involvement in what happened to Jackson? Hunter had something to do with his death, and the other kids, with the pills.”

  She looked at him, giving him everything, and he could see she knew exactly what he was talking about.

  “You know, Rita Mae, if it was an accident, why was his body in a closet?”

  She shut her eyes and started pacing behind the island. If Marcus knew what he was doing, he’d have a few things to say, considering he was stepping into the middle of the investigation. But Owen wasn’t about to let this woman twist the facts to hurt his family and shine a spotlight on something that had happened a long time ago and should’ve been left where it was, dead and buried.

  “Kids panic, you know,” she finally said.

  He knew that well. “Is that what happened?”

  “You know a lot about the investigation, but then, your brother is the sheriff. PJ Moore is not a man I want as my enemy, and Hunter is just a kid, just starting out in life. He shouldn’t have his life ruined because of an idiotic choice. He wasn’t the only kid there. He was scared, all the kids were scared, taking drugs that doctors prescribe like candy. He was panicked when he came and found me, crying, hysterical. He dragged me around the back of the school. Jackson was dead. The kids were all gone. They had left Hunter to clean the mess up. He’s got a full-ride scholarship for Berkeley. He’s got a good future, Owen. He shouldn’t have to pay for something that wasn’t really his fault. They were all to blame, including Jackson. He took the drug. Hunter told me he started foaming at the mouth, choking, couldn’t breathe. It happened so fast…”

  “So if he died outside, how did his body get into the janitor’s closet on the second floor?”

  Rita Mae pressed her hands to her face, then wiped them away. “I helped him carry the body up,” she said. “The school was deserted. The only teacher there was Tessa, and she was in her classroom, finishing up a lesson plan. I went in and distracted her while Hunter dragged Jackson’s body into the closet. He planned on leaving. We both did. I was just downstairs in the office, grabbing my purse, and Hunter was waiting there, crying, freaking out still, when Tessa called down to say there was a plumbing leak, of all things…

  “I panicked. I sent Hunter home and promised I’d take care of it. I never expected for this to evolve so quickly. I expected the weekend to come and go and for the body to be discovered only when the custodian showed up Sunday night. By then, I’d have figured something out. But I realized that was unrealistic.”

  He crossed his arms over his chest, hearing a car outside and knowing it was likely Tessa, but he didn’t pull his gaze from Rita Mae. “So why did you really go in the closet? I could have fixed the pipe and been on my way.”

  She pulled her lip between her teeth, and sorrow seemed to settle there. “I don’t know, Owen. I was panicked, freaking out. I knew I hadn’t thought any of it through, because PJ would be looking for Jackson when he didn’t come home. So I just did it, ripped the bandage off, and I hoped no one would come looking Hunter’s way.”

  She pulled open a drawer behind her and lifted something out, a small box. She rested it on the island, staring at it, and then slid it over to him with her fingers pressed to the top of it. “That’s the knife and the cloth that I dug up.”

  For a moment, he didn’t know what to say. What was she doing? He walked over to her, to the island, and rested his hand over the box. “So why are you giving it to me, considering you’ve basically threatened to hurt my family with this? Then there’s Tessa. You’ve made it clear you don’t want me near her, but I’m not walking away. I’ve always had feelings for her.”

  He heard the doorbell and watched Rita Mae start. Of course she wasn’t expecting anyone.

  “That would be Tessa,” he said. “She knew I was coming over. I told her to give me a moment alone with you first. She seems to think you have it in for me. I care about Tessa very, very much.” He lifted his hand and settled it on the box again as if to make his point clear.

  “I like Tessa and always have, Owen,” she said. “Don’t you hurt her—but I won’t tell her.” She gestured toward the box.

  He couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d just been given a reprieve, but he only nodded as she started to the landing to answer the door. “Who else was there with you that night, Rita Mae?”

  She just stared up at him, and, for a moment, she said nothing. “Someone who’s no longer in the picture.”

  He knew that was all he was going to get. “You have to tell Marcus what happened. Then there are the pills. You know that Hunter didn’t supply them.”

  She stopped at the door and looked up at him, her hand on the knob. “No, he didn’t, Owen. The people who supplied the pills were the parents those kids stole them from. That’s who should be held responsible, but you and I both know that will never happen. It was an accident, a stupid accident. Who could’ve known an opioid could kill you?”

  She seemed to consider something. “I’ll call Marcus after I get dressed,” she said, then pulled open the door.

  He took in Tessa, casually dressed, gorgeous. She didn’t have a clue about anything. What would he tell her?

  Right now, he wasn’t sure, but as he listened to the conversation in the background and glanced at the box in his hands, he realized the talk with his mother was a long time coming.

  Chapter Sixteen

  He took in the woodstove in the corner of his living room, which he’d lit after he got home, and sat the small box on the table before he climbed in the shower.

  Tessa was still at Rita Mae’s. He’d kissed her and said he’d call her later, then left her there with her friend to talk about…what? He suspected Rita Mae wouldn’t tell her what had happened.

  Since then, he’d received a text from Marcus saying he’d be at their mom’s in an hour.

  He strode barefoot into the living room, his hair damp, wearing loose-fitting jeans and a long-sleeved black and white shirt. There, he opened the small box and took in the dried cloth.

  He unwrapped the old switchblade and took it into the kitchen. In the sink was a bowl he’d filled with bleach, and he dropped in the knife, then strode bac
k to the living room, where he tossed the box and rag into the woodstove.

  As the flames took hold, his phone dinged again. He closed the stove and reached for it, seeing another text from Marcus: On my way over to Mom’s. Got a call from Rita Mae and just talked to her, but you already know that! Where are you?

  He knew what his brother wanted, so he picked up his phone and texted back: Taking care of something. Be there soon.

  He stood up, taking in the roaring fire in the woodstove, seeing the small box burned up along with the rag. In the kitchen, he lifted the knife and scrubbed, seeing all the blood flake off in the bleach. He washed it down the drain, rinsed off the knife, dried it, and shoved it in the back of the utensil drawer, with some old knives he never used. Then he washed his hands and rinsed out the sink.

  He made his way into his bedroom and pulled on a pair of socks, then shoved his feet into his sneakers. In the living room, he closed the damper on his wood stove, seeing the flames flickering down to embers. He reached for a hoodie and his keys at the front door and made his way to his van, then climbed behind the wheel, feeling as if he’d cleared up one loose end that could have been a disaster.

  He made the drive over to his mom’s in less than ten minutes and pulled up in front at the same time Marcus did. He realized, too, that Luke’s truck was in the driveway. As he stepped out of his van and took in his brother, who was giving him everything, he knew by his face that he was now running the show.

  “You shouldn’t have gone to Rita Mae’s,” was all Marcus said to him. Then he jutted his chin to the house. “Luke’s home.”

  “Yeah. Rita Mae gave me everything,” he said. He knew he didn’t have to spell it out, so he said nothing else as Marcus pulled off his sunglasses and tucked them in his shirtfront.

 

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