#7-9--The O’Connells

by Lorhainne Eckhart

“Thanks for the offer, Mr. and Mrs. O’Connell…” he started.

  “Call me Jenny, Brady.”

  “Thank you, Jenny, and…” Maybe it was something in Ryan’s expression and the way he stared down at him that made Brady’s smile fade. There was no way Ryan was letting the kid use the same level of informality with him. “…Mr. O’Connell. But my dad’s just called, and I need to go home. He’s expecting me.”

  Ryan simply jutted out his chin in response to Brady’s wave, and he felt a punch to his shoulder from Owen as Alison followed Brady out. Jenny leaned across the island with a look on her face that let him know she couldn’t believe what he’d done.

  “What?” He gestured to her.

  “Mr. O’Connell? Seriously, Ryan, since when are you into formality?” she said, and he didn’t miss his brother’s laugh and the way he shook his head.

  “Since that kid has an interest in my daughter,” Ryan said. “As long as he understands the level I’m on and where he is in the pecking order, we won’t have any issues.”

  “You mean as long as you’re grinding him into the ground,” Owen said, and Tessa laughed.

  “If it helps, Ryan, I happen to know that Brady is a great kid,” Tessa said.

  Suzanne was holding her phone and texting again, standing with Karen.

  “You forget he’s a teenage boy,” Ryan said. “I know what’s going through his mind.”

  Owen laughed outright now, and Jenny shook her head and rolled her eyes.

  “Mom just texted back, finally,” Suzanne said. “Says she’s in a meeting, and it seems she’s going to be late, too.”

  He took in the odd look on Karen’s face. So Jack was in a meeting, and so was his mom. “Anyone know anything about Mom having a meeting today and what that’s about?” Karen asked.

  Suzanne shrugged, and Charlotte’s expression turned curious.

  “Come on, you guys,” Jenny said. “So she has a meeting. Your mom has a life, too, outside you all. She’s entitled to do things without you all knowing.”

  Owen’s expression was hesitant, as were Karen’s and Suzanne’s. Ryan couldn’t remember the last time, if ever, that they hadn’t known what their mom was doing and where she was.

  He heard the door again, then voices, and stepped back to see Marcus, still dressed in his uniform, walking up the sidewalk with Alison.

  “Yeah, did she really say a meeting?” Karen said. “Mom doesn’t have meetings. That’s what she has us for. If she needs something, she gets one of us to do it for her.”

  All Suzanne did was hand her phone to Karen so she could see the text.

  Maybe because of everything that had just happened, with them learning about the secret Owen had held on to about the night their dad had left, Ryan couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something more going on. He could feel the way Jenny was watching all of them as if trying to figure out why they were acting the way they were, considering she had no idea of what had happened.

  He shrugged and lifted his beer. “So, about Brady, anyone know his last name?” he said, mainly to change the subject before they could talk any further about his mom, which could lead to Jenny wondering more and asking him why they were all so obsessed with what their mom was doing. She would start figuring out that they knew something she didn’t—which they did.

  Marcus was still outside on the porch, with his daughter, talking. Like, what the hell? Alison didn’t do the chatting thing, yet there she was. Maybe he’d pull Marcus aside and get him to find out everything he could about Brady and his father, just to be sure there wasn’t a problem there. That was something he wouldn’t share with Alison or Jenny.

  Jenny walked around the island while his siblings carried on their own conversation, and her annoyance was evident in the way she stood in front of him. “Ryan, if you’re thinking of giving that boy a hard time, don’t. You know Alison likes him, and you need to get used to the idea that she’s going to be dating. I, for one, like him too. So ease up.” She poked his chest. “And about your mom, you all need to chill out. She’s been there for all of you, every day, for everyone. Whatever she’s doing, it’s her business. Her business!” She poked his chest again.

  He looked back over to Marcus and Alison outside. Whatever she was saying, she was almost smiling.

  His sisters were talking with Owen, and Tessa was walking out back now with Charlotte and Eva. Jenny still hadn’t pulled her gaze from him.

  Okay, so maybe he’d agree, but only after he had Marcus check the boy out.

  Then there was his mom and their need to know what was going on. Maybe Jenny was right, considering everything Iris had ever done had been entirely for all of them.

  But maybe when she showed up, he’d pull her aside and find out what was going on and who she was meeting with. And maybe that, too, he’d keep to himself.

  Chapter Four

  “Yeah, Marcus is a big meanie, making Harold work the night shift. You know what that does to a relationship?” Suzanne said, gesturing toward Marcus with her fork before taking a bite of the chocolate cake Charlotte had sent him back over to their house to fetch. She wasn’t waiting for dinner. Suzanne had always been about dessert first, as far back as Marcus could remember.

  The task had given him a minute to change into blue jeans, a T-shirt, and a hoodie and put his gun in the gun safe in the closet. Marcus knew Charlotte didn’t like the fact that he carried it around Eva. When they were home, she wanted him to change and put away the work stuff, even though being a sheriff was who he was.

  “He’s not working all night,” Marcus said, “but we’ve had a series of late-night crimes, burglaries, thefts. I need him out there. He’s one of my best.”

  He was the best, actually. At times, Marcus thought Harold was an even better cop than him, considering he’d had more than enough personal challenges to pull him away from the job recently.

  “Mom’s still not here,” Owen said, lingering beside him, holding a plate of chicken he’d just pulled off the barbecue. “You know anything about this meeting she had today?”

  As Charlotte sent Eva into the bathroom to wash her hands for dinner, Marcus took in his brother. He’d thought nothing of their mom’s meeting when Ryan had mentioned it right before asking Marcus to run a background on Brady and find out everything about him, his parents, and his siblings, anything and anyone, all the skeletons in his closet. Marcus was still fighting amusement over his brother’s predicament.

  “No idea,” he said. “I’m sure she’ll be here soon, and she can tell us.”

  Just then, he heard a door close, and Alison called out, “Grandma’s here.”

  “Speaking of…” He wanted to add that his mother was a grown woman with her own life, and they needed to stop worrying—except the fact was that worrying was all Marcus had done since noticing that their mom wasn’t there yet. He knew he needed to give his head a shake.

  Eva went running to his mom, who stopped to hug his little girl and then Alison, who was sharing some news with her, but the expression on his mom’s face had him really looking. Owen rested the chicken on the island along with the salads and the chocolate cake that Suzanne had already cut into.

  “Okay, guess we can eat now, or should we wait for Jack?” Jenny asked Karen, who made a face and shook her head.

  “No, he said he’s in a meeting. If or when he gets here…”

  That was all Marcus heard before turning to take in his mom again. She was holding Eva’s hand and had her other arm around Alison’s shoulders. He couldn’t remember his niece ever smiling this much.

  Maybe he should take a minute and stop by alone tomorrow to check in with his mom and make sure everything was okay.

  Then his phone was ringing, and he pulled it out to see that it was Harold. Charlotte dragged her gaze over to him. He knew what she was thinking: He’d likely have to go and handle something.

  “Harold, what’s going on?” he said and turned away, touching his mom’s shoulder as he walke
d past and headed out the front door.

  “Got a problem,” Harold said. “I’m out at old Lionel Shepard’s. You know his place, the one that backs onto the forest? He says his dog dug up something, a body. Thought I should let you know before I call everyone in.”

  “You sure?” Marcus stood on the front porch, hearing the voices in the house. Just then, Jack pulled up in his Mercedes and parked across the street, next to Charlotte’s Subaru.

  “Not much confusion when it comes to human remains,” Harold said.

  He dragged his hand over his face. Jack was dressed all lawyerly, in dress pants and a dress shirt. He too was dragging his hand over his face as if he’d had a hell of a day.

  “Okay, I’m on my way,” Marcus said. “You’d better call everyone in. Get them out there. Find out how fresh it is, and tape it off so no one goes in and tromps around, destroying the crime scene.”

  The screen door squeaked, and Charlotte stepped out.

  “Already on it,” Harold said. “See you when you get here.”

  Marcus pocketed his phone just as Jack strode up the steps.

  Charlotte was lingering in the doorway. “You have to go, don’t you?”

  He leaned down and kissed her. “Afraid so. Lionel’s big old mutt dug up a body,” he said, and he knew he didn’t have to say more. Charlotte understood.

  Jack said nothing. By his expression, though, he seemed distracted.

  “I’ll save you some dinner—and cake,” Charlotte added.

  He kissed her again as she went in, but Jack made no move to leave.

  “Marcus,” he said. “I wanted to have a word with you, when you have a moment, about a case. Maybe I can stop in tomorrow…?”

  Marcus started down the steps. “Sure, yeah. Give me a call tomorrow. Depending on what happens tonight… Whose case?”

  Jack was unsmiling, but then, he couldn’t remember the man ever not being dead serious about something. He shook his head. “Tomorrow. I’ll talk to you about it then,” he said, then lifted his hand as he walked into Ryan’s house.

  Marcus hurried across the street to grab his gun before heading out to the crime scene. He just hoped that whoever the body was, it wasn’t someone he knew. After all, this town was still reeling over the death at the high school, and now someone else? Another body would be one more too many.

  The evening was fully dark as Marcus stood in a clearing in the woods at the boundary of Lionel’s property, just before the state park began. There were tarps and headlights, and the crime scene techs were there. The body Lionel’s dog had dug up was just bones, but how long it had been there was anyone’s guess.

  Harold had his jacket on, and Marcus was still wearing his old hoodie, his badge pinned to it, as he spoke with the old man again.

  “Told you, Rufus has the hound dog in him,” Lionel said. “When he gets a scent on something, he just starts digging. I didn’t know what it was. Thought it was just garbage. I was calling him, and by the time I caught up with him, I found him digging up an old tarp. I went to grab him and pull him away when I spotted something. I pulled back what he’d already unearthed and saw the bones. Now, I’ve hunted all my life, so I know the difference between human and animal. Then I called you all. Someone must’ve dumped it on my property, buried it. Any idea who it is?”

  He just looked at the old man, who had lived there forever. He was a little hunched, a little shorter than Harold, and he wore a worn tan jacket. His wife, he knew, had died twenty years back, and his kids had moved away. Lionel had been known to stir up a mess of trouble in his younger years, having spent the first half of his married life drunk.

  “Looks like it’s been here a while,” Harold said. “It’s pretty decomposed. No ID, and dental records are out since the teeth are missing. They’ll try DNA, but unless it’s already in the system…”

  Marcus dragged his gaze back to Lionel. “So you have no idea who this is or could be? I mean, you were known a while back to get into some trouble when you were drinking.”

  Lionel shook his head. “Look, I wouldn’t have called you if this was something I’d done—and I haven’t had a drink in twenty-six years, Marcus. I may have done a lot of things, but getting blackout drunk wasn’t one of them. I remember every stupid-ass thing I did and said, which I guess is my punishment. You and I both know that in these woods, anyone can do just about anything and not get caught. It’s easy enough to get in there, too, with all the trails.”

  Harold gestured with his thumb to Marcus, and he knew he wanted a word with him.

  “Okay, Lionel,” Marcus said. “Don’t go anywhere, though. We’ll likely want to talk to you again, I’m sure.”

  He turned toward Harold and walked with him toward where the scene had been taped off. A hole had been dug around the body, and the tarp was open, revealing the bones that remained. “What is it?” he said.

  “I wanted to talk to you about something the techs said about the body—and about the fact that the DA is here.”

  That had the hair on the back of his neck spiking. “So what is it that they said?” he asked, taking in the scene and the lights. It was late, and he’d have to wake the mayor soon. Then there was the city council.

  He took a second to consider what it meant that it wasn’t Eileen, the assistant DA, who had arrived on the scene but rather the big guy himself, Tibo Lewis. That fact alone unsettled him in ways he wouldn’t tell anyone. Tibo lifted his gaze to Marcus while talking with one of the crime scene techs.

  “The body’s been here a while,” Harold said. “Anywhere from fifteen to twenty years is their guess. Male for sure, but no ID, as I said.”

  “So then why is Tibo out here? We have any missing persons during that time?”

  Harold hesitated. Tibo said something else to one of the techs before walking his way, and he wasn’t sure what this was, but that feeling he had in the pit of his stomach twisted into a knot. He settled his hands on his waist, over his holstered gun.

  “Sheriff, was wondering whether I could have a word with you,” Tibo said.

  Marcus angled his head to Harold, who, he could see, evidently had an idea of what this was about. “What?” was all he said.

  Tibo, with his hands in his jacket pockets, appeared far too neat and tidy to be out in the middle of the dirt of a crime scene at night. He didn’t pull his gaze from Marcus, nor did he smile. “Want to have a word with you about your dad,” he said.

  What the fuck?

  Marcus nodded, feeling sucker punched. He took in how uncomfortable Harold looked, as if he could feel his walls going up. “We’re out in the middle of the woods at a crime scene and you want to talk about my dad? Fuck off, Tibo. That’s not your business.” He settled one foot in a step toward him and really dug in.

  “Well, that’s where you’re wrong,” Tibo said. “When I got the call about a body out in the woods, with no ID, and the right time frame, although sketchy, all I could think was how Rita Mae’s lawyer kept carrying on about this knife your brother Owen buried and how you knew about it. All this happened around the time your dad supposedly up and left.”

  Now he knew exactly where Tibo was going, and for a moment, he had to remind himself to breathe. “That’s quite a reach, there, Tibo.” He allowed his gaze to flit toward Harold, who said nothing, and it was in that moment that, for the first time, he questioned his deputy’s loyalty to him.

  “Not when the body is a man’s, and the unofficial cause of death is stabbing. So, again, Marcus, tell me about this knife and Owen’s involvement—and tell me, why is it that no one knows what happened to your dad? He was here one day and then gone the next, and no one in town heard from him again.”

  He had to remind himself to breathe again as he took in Tibo, feeling the situation spinning in the wrong direction. Secrets and lies… He could feel himself on the other side of the law, with eyes on him, twisting things, understanding too uncomfortably well how easily something could be spun against him.

  �
��You know what, Tibo?” he said. “I have nothing to say to you. You want to question me, you do it through my lawyer.”

  Chapter Five

  Jack took his time locking up his car, seeing that Karen was waiting for him beside the BMW he’d bought for her as a surprise one morning after trading in her practical Honda, which had been on its last legs. He’d expected a thank-you or, at the very least, a smile, but what he’d received was two days of silence and her turning her back toward him in bed. That was just something he’d learned the hard way about her. She didn’t like surprises.

  Or decisions being made for her.

  Or anyone messing with her family.

  “So you want to tell me what’s going on?” she said.

  He pocketed his keys and gripped his briefcase, which held all the notes he’d made about Iris O’Connell while trying to wrap his head around her story, her situation. He’d told her not to talk to anyone in the meantime.

  Now his wife was waiting for him, and he could feel her seething curiosity quickly turning to anger. Of course, now he knew what she knew, and she hadn’t shared any of it with him.

  More secrets, a family of secrets. Maybe that was what bothered him. He’d never expected her to be better at keeping secrets than he was.

  “In what sense, Karen?” he said, gesturing for her to keep walking.

  She was wearing her trademark dress, a sundress with a sweater overtop, and heels. She made a rude noise, all attitude. Of course, life was never dull with Karen.

  He walked with her to the back door of her condo, their condo, and he held the door open for her, but she turned on him in the doorway. She had to look way up, even with heels on.

  “Now you’re playing games,” she said. “You know how I know? You’re answering my question with another question. So who was this client you were seeing?”

  There it was, the question he wasn’t about to answer.

  “You know we don’t talk about clients and our cases,” he said, resting his hand on her shoulder, her back, her ass. Somehow, he had her turned and walking through the steel door, and he closed it behind them and walked with her to the lobby, where she jabbed the button for the elevator.