Fallen Giant

by Monica Owens

  “Can I have another one?”

  Startled, Trish blinked and broke eye contact with Levi. She turned to see Colton dragging his fork in the syrup and licking the sweetness off the tines.

  “Sure, kid.”

  Levi reached across the table and picked up Colton’s plate, turning away from the table abruptly. Yeah. Okay. So this maybe wasn’t the time to ask if Levi had his tongue tattooed. Maybe it never would be. But yeah, definitely not in front of Colton.

  Trish cast a furtive look over to the cut of Levi’s jeans. Beautiful.

  “Want to tell us what happened to your bike, kid?”

  Trish watched as Levi handed Colton his plate back. The child stared down at the pancake as if his whole life depended on figuring out that cake. Levi went back to the stove, turning his back to the table.

  Colton flicked his eyes up, then back down. He cut into his breakfast and chewed the first piece slowly.

  By the time Levi finished making his breakfast, Trish was down to her last bites. Colton had long since put his fork down. Levi sat down and gestured to the syrup. Trish handed it to him, then leaned back.

  Levi poured syrup, then pointed his fork at Colton. “Well?”

  Colton’s eyes dropped. “It was my fault.”

  “How so?” Levi asked around a bite of pancake.

  “Mr. Thompson told me to leave.”

  “Is Mr. Thompson…?” Levi looked to Trish.

  “Yeah. Mel’s dad.”

  Levi shook his head and continued to eat.

  “Mr. Thompson owns the only gas station in town,” Trish felt compelled to add. What she didn’t say was that Colton often hung out in the lot of the gas station. The kid had nowhere to go, so he’d ride his bike round and round the small building and the pumps, close to a bathroom and close to a food source.

  “Why did he want you to leave?” Levi asked.

  Colton shrugged.

  Trish caught Levi’s eye and shook her head. Most of the inhabitants of this town disliked anyone with a different skin color. Mr. Thompson was one of those people and he had no qualms about telling anyone, even a little boy, how he felt. Levi nodded and kept eating.

  “Did you leave?” Trish asked.

  “Yes,” Colton said immediately. “And no.”

  “Can’t be both, kid,” Levi told him.

  “Yes, it can,” Colton shot back. When Levi raised an eyebrow, Colton’s shoulders sagged a little lower. “I left. But then I had to go to the bathroom. My mom says that I shouldn’t go out in the fields. So I went back. I-I was gonna buy a moon pie,” he said softly, his face down, studying his plate.

  “He makes you buy something to use the bathroom?”

  Colton nodded at the question. “But I was hungry, too. So I went in and he started yelling. Told me to get out. That I dirty his bathroom up.” Here Colton lifted his head and Trish saw the tears on the boy’s lashes. “But I’m real careful and I don’t mess up his bathroom. If I get water on the sink or the floor, I wipe it up.”

  Trish wanted to yank the kid to her and hug him. Damn that racist Mr. Thompson.

  “Might seem like a stupid question, but why don’t you go home to use the bathroom?” Levi asked.

  Colton gave Levi a long suffering look. “Because you don’t bother my mom during the day.”

  “What did Mr. Thompson do to your bike?” Trish tried to reel him back in.

  “He kicked it. Then he stabbed the tire with a scissors. He was real mad.”

  Trish and Levi exchanged a look. The little boy caught it.

  “Hey, I won’t go back. I can come to the sheriff’s office, right, Miss Trish? To use the bathroom?”

  “No,” Levi announced. “No, you’ll stay here during the day.”

  Trish’s head swiveled to Levi and both she and Colton said, “What?” at the same time.

  “Here,” Levi said again, jabbing his finger at the table. “Whenever you can, you’ll go home and get your clothes, but you’re staying here.”

  “He’s got a mother, Levi,” Trish whispered.

  “Yeah, a mother who could give less than a shit about him. Did Mr. Thompson give you those bruises on your arm or on your face?” Levi demanded. Colton flushed. “Didn’t think so. And isn’t it the middle of the school year? Shouldn’t you be in school? Why isn’t the law arresting your momma for that?”

  “I’m home schooled,” Colton said softly.

  “I’m sure your mom does a bang up job with that, too.”

  Trish reached out and rubbed a hand up and down Colton’s arm. The little boy had long since let the tears fall even though he tried to hide them. “Levi,” Trish tried again.

  “The worst thing you can do in life is ignore your fucking kid,” Levi snarled, shoving his chair back. He started picking up plates and carrying them to the kitchen. “There’s a special place in hell for people like Colton’s mother.”

  “Levi!” Trish hissed. She watched as the big man lowered his head, his arms bracing him against the sink. She eased out of her chair and knelt next to Colton, pulling him into her arms. Her hand held that mop of curls to her shoulder as the little boy cried silently. Worse than being ignored was having all the negligence being perpetrated against you voiced by someone you’ve begun to like.

  Trish’s phone rang. Still holding Colton, she pulled it out and checked the caller ID. She frowned when she saw one of the deputy’s numbers. With a concerned murmur to Colton, she answered. “Detective Redding.”

  “Detective, we got a situation.”

  “What’s your situation, Deputy Malone?”

  Trish’s eyes shot to Levi, who’d turned and was now staring at her.

  “It’s Mel…”

  Trish pulled back from Colton and smiled at him. She ran a finger along his cheekbone. “What’s with Mel?”

  “Well. He’s…well, he’s dead.”

  Trish’s head snapped up and she ungracefully fell on her ass. Colton giggled and quickly bit his lip.

  “What do you mean, dead?”

  Levi pushed off the sink and came over to her.

  “Hanged himself, ma’am.”

  “What do you mean, hanged himself?” Trish demanded, knowing she was repeating herself. “I took his shoelaces and belt—”

  “He used the sheets.”

  “He used the sheets?” she nearly shrieked. “Who was watching him? We haven’t been gone long. When did this happen?”

  “Ma’am—”

  “I’ll be down there in a minute,” Trish snapped and ended the call. She looked up at Levi, then at Colton. “Listen to me, Colton, I know Levi hurt your feelings, but you need to stay here today, do you understand me?”

  Fear began to glaze over Colton’s eyes. He nodded, though. “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Good.” Trish hauled herself up and faced Levi. “Was he alive when you left?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Get Colton settled and meet me at the office.” She charged over to the door and looked back over her shoulder. “Someone killed him, Levi.”

  The fear in Colton’s eyes settled deep in her heart.

  This town was going crazy.

  *****

  Mrs. Feeney always got up at 5 a.m. She didn’t need an alarm clock either. Her body was just in tune. Every morning was the same. Get out of bed, do her stretches, use the bathroom, take a shower and get dressed. After that, she made her oatmeal, ate it on the porch, washed her dish, drank some coffee, then retired back to the porch to watch the sun streak across the sky.

  Now sometimes Mrs. Feeney had a hard time sleeping through the night. Sometimes she’d see that little boy riding his bike around. Sometimes she’d see that big black dog that the sheriff refused to do anything about. Sometimes, like last night, she saw someone digging in her garden.

  So instead of retiring to the porch like she always did, Mrs. Feeney grabbed up a hoe and a shovel and strode purposefully toward the garden just off the porch. This garden was her pride and joy. Lots of folks h
ad a hard time growing things in this climate. Not Mrs. Feeney. Why, she could can enough tomatoes for the winter and still have enough for her afternoon sandwich every day of summer. This year she’d added carrots to the garden and by gosh, she was going to make sure they survived.

  Which is why, at 6 a.m., Mrs. Feeney was standing on the edge of her garden, her mouth open in shock, staring down into a gaping hole in the middle of her garden.

  All her plants were destroyed. Every single one. Roots were sprayed everywhere. Tiny tomatoes were strewn about. Carrots, just beginning to take root, were flayed and dead in the dirt.

  Mrs. Feeney crept closer, anger holding her voice hostage. Being closer to the hole made no more sense than being further away. Not when she saw the giant grubs churning their way through the dirt. Fat earthworms swam through the well fed soil she’d paid an arm and a leg for. And there, at the bottom of the hole, was a swarm of beetles, digging themselves out of the dirt, their wings flapping and a small hissing sound emanating from their sinister little bodies.

  Mrs. Feeney didn’t care that Mother Nature was trying to kill her vegetables. No, when Mrs. Feeney put her mind to something, she got it done, even despite Mother Nature. And Mrs. Feeney was going to have vegetables, fresh vegetables, that she grew herself.

  She tossed the hoe down and marched into the garden, the soil squishy under her feet. With the shovel, she moved aside dead plants and destroyed flora. She beat back the grubs and cut the earthworms in half. Next: the beetles.

  With the flat of the shovel toward the hole, Mrs. Feeney swung downward with all her might.

  Her shovel broke in half.

  Dumbfounded, Mrs. Feeney lifted the broken tool and stared at the eviscerated metal.

  The humming and hissing got louder.

  Mrs. Feeney lowered the shovel and leaned over the hole.

  A swarm of beetles flew at her, their legs tangling in her hair, their bodies dragging on her flesh. Fresh welts and scratches appeared as the insects bit and stung her.

  Mrs. Feeney screamed and clawed at her skin. Bugs went into her ears, her nostrils. Beetles began to burrow into her flesh, their wings cutting into her, their bodies digging deep. She screamed and screamed, but more beetles flew in, down her throat, into her lungs and down her esophagus. They peeled open her eyelids and ate at the dewy eyeball underneath.

  And still Mrs. Feeney screamed.

  In the corner of her yard sat a big black dog, watching the beetles pick away at the flesh of the old woman. The dog was the only one who heard her screams.

  Chapter Twelve

  Someone had removed Mel’s body by the time Levi got to the sheriff’s office. Since Magnolia wasn’t a huge place, the office had four identical cells housed in the back. The plan had been for Mel to spend the night there, then move to a bigger jailhouse that could accommodate him. Mel made sure that didn’t happen.

  Levi wandered to the back of the sheriff’s office, where there was screeching and a general hubbub. He immediately saw Trish, stoic-faced and irritated, trying to deal with who Levi assumed was Mel’s mother.

  The sheriff stood off to the side, shell shocked. The two deputies the county employed were nowhere to be found. And firing up the screaming woman were Mr. Thompson of Colton-broken-bike fame and the mayor.

  That fucking prick.

  Levi waded in and wedged himself between Trish and the mayor.

  “Everyone knock it off!”

  Mrs. Thompson crumpled to the floor and her husband crouched next to her. The mayor glared at him.

  “You got something to say?” Levi gritted out.

  The mayor’s eyes narrowed further, but he said nothing.

  Trish moved around him, her thick ponytail swinging. She bent and put an arm around Mr. Thompson and spoke softly to him. The older man nodded and together they lifted Mrs. Thompson, supporting her full weight as they moved out of the cell area.

  “You’ve got a lot of nerve being here,” the mayor sneered, poking his finger in Levi’s chest.

  Anger surged through Levi’s body. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “You incited this—this violence—”

  “You mean Mel shooting Rusty?” Levi asked incredulous. “Look, fucker that was a long time coming.”

  “Did you just cuss at me?”

  “Yeah, I did. And I’ll do it again. Something is happening in this town and it’s about time you figured out what it fucking is.” Levi glanced to where the sheriff stood, head down. “And you. What fucking good are you? You let this jackass run all over you? What kind of a sheriff are you?”

  The sheriff didn’t respond.

  But the mayor puffed up his chest. He moved forward, bumping into Levi. “You were asked here to look into an investigation. I am hereby relieving you of that duty.”

  “Yeah?” Levi bumped back. The mayor skidded backward and hit the wall behind him. Seriously? This little man was going to try to intimidate him? “Well until that murderer is caught, I’m not going anywhere.”

  “We don’t need your help!”

  “Fuck that. You need me more than you think.”

  “I don’t need anything from you,” the mayor spat.

  “Gentlemen!”

  Levi’s head jerked up to see Trish at the end of the short hallway. The mayor barely glanced at her and the sheriff didn’t move a muscle.

  “I gave specific instructions for someone to watch over Mel last night.”

  “I relieved the deputy,” the sheriff said woodenly. “He was dead on his feet.”

  Levi snorted.

  “Jailhouse accident,” the mayor sneered.

  “Mel didn’t seem broken up with the murder of his cousin,” Trish observed.

  Levi remembered Mel raving about how horrible Rusty had been. How much of a chickenshit he was. How much Mel couldn’t stand him. How much he’d stood in the way of Mel being what he wanted, of Mel having the money he wanted, the woman he wanted. All of Mel’s problems could be laid at the feet of the cousin he’d murdered. And all of these ravings were after Mel had been arrested and brought to the sheriff’s office. After being locked in a cell and been read his rights.

  “Mel loved his cousin,” the mayor retorted.

  The sheriff let out a low shaky sigh. “He was distraught by the time I took over.” Now he looked up and met Trish’s eye. “I shouldn’t have left him alone.”

  “You’re taking responsibility?” Trish asked quietly.

  The sheriff nodded once.

  The mayor puffed out his chest and lifted his chin, silently daring them to argue.

  Levi watched as Trish came closer. In an even tone, she spoke softly. “Mel shot Rusty in cold blood. Blamed him for his life being shit. I saw it and you’ve got more than enough witnesses who saw it.”

  The mayor opened his mouth, but quickly shut it when Trish shook her head once, briskly.

  “And your sheriff is taking responsibility for Mel’s death. As far as I’m concerned, both those cases are closed. I’m going to work on the murder of a high school boy who’s been eviscerated and dismembered. Once I find out who murdered him, I’ll probably find out who murdered the other two men found in the desert, because it’ll be the same person. And once that is done…” Here Trish leaned closer and spoke directly to the mayor. “You’ll need to find a new detective because I’m leaving. I refuse to work for a man who hates me and thinks I’m not capable. Do you understand me?”

  There was silence in the small hallway. Only the hum of the fluorescent lights. So Trish spoke louder.

  “Do you understand me?”

  The mayor narrowed his eyes. “I want it in writing.”

  “You’ll get it,” she spat. “You’ll get that and more because I plan on taking you down before I go.”

  Levi watched as Trish spun away, her ponytail bouncing and her heels clicking. He wanted to follow her, but he wanted to let her have her major exit, too. Damn but this woman was a bundle of fireworks.

  Trish
made it to her office and went in, the door slamming behind her and echoing around them.

  The mayor snorted. “Good riddance.”

  Levi’s nostrils flared and he swung around, his fist connecting with the mayor’s cheek. The older man went down, falling into the sheriff first, then thudding on the concrete.

  The mayor clutched his cheek and glared at Levi. “I want you gone.”

  “Sure. After I’m done helping Trish.”

  “I want you gone yesterday,” the mayor spat.

  Levi walked away, rage quaking in his veins.

  “Yesterday!” the mayor shouted after him.

  Levi bypassed Trish’s office, knowing instinctively she didn’t want him in there. Not right now. Her blinds were closed and he figured she probably had locked the door, too. He blew through the doors to the hot, sticky outside and stalked to his truck.

  This town was fucked in the head.

  *****

  Trish drove up the driveway to her little bungalow. Night had fallen and her headlights were the only illumination besides her porch light. She stopped her car when she saw the figure sitting on her front stairs. No one around here could be that big. So it wasn’t anyone from around her. She shut the car off and pushed open the door. Her feet crunched on the gravel of her driveway and then her heels clicked on the concrete leading to her porch.

  She paused with a hand on the whitewashed banister of her porch stairs. “What are you doing here?”

  Big shoulders shrugged in the dark.

  Trish frowned as she saw the big puff of smoke that covered his huge frame and silently floated away. “Are you smoking marijuana on my porch?”

  “And what are you going to do about it if I am?”

  His raspy, throaty voice burned into her skin as if he touched her. She swallowed and moved closer. “Arrest you?”