by Monica Owens
Now that she was closer, she had a hint of light to see his face. So she saw his lip tip upward and one eye met hers.
“Bring out the handcuffs, Detective.”
Trish sighed and stepped up to the top of the porch, then turned and slid down to sit a few feet above him. She was still only eye level with him. “Really. What are you doing here? How did you find my house?”
“Small town,” Levi said with a shrug.
Trish nodded and leaned against the newel post of her porch. “For all intents and purposes I quit my job today.”
“Yep.”
She closed her eyes and dropped her head back against the wood. “I’m such an idiot.”
“Why?”
“Um, because I’m unemployed now,” she snapped back with little venom in her voice. She sighed again. “Look, I don’t know why you’re here, but I’m tired of fighting. I literally have two weeks to find a murderer because the mayor wants me gone as soon as possible and I refuse to leave a job without giving notice. I have to follow this one through and I’m exhausted.”
He turned his head, the joint hanging from those sinfully delicious lips. “I’m going to help.”
“Yeah. I know.”
“I’ll stay as long as you need me.”
Trish searched through the darkness, her eyes drinking him in and still not seeing what she needed to see. “But why?”
He shook his head. He removed the blunt and blew out heavy smoke. “Something’s wrong here. You shouldn’t have to take it on alone.”
The words curled inside of her and spread out in a warmth she’d never felt before. No one had ever seen what she saw at crime scenes. Saw horror in the deaths. Saw monsters in the murderers. Except this man.
“This whole town is wrong,” she whispered.
“Yep.”
Trish sighed and gazed out over the expanse of her front lawn, shrouded in shadows. “I used to think that I could make everything better, if only I could be a cop. I could solve murders, put people away, and the world would be a better place. But then, there’s places like this that seem so out of touch, so utterly out of touch with reality, and I realize that I can’t change anything.”
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him raise the joint and take a healthy hit. “Yeah.”
Now she faced him, letting the sound of crickets and the wisps of smoke roll over her. “You weren’t a professor.”
“I was.”
“Not always.”
He shook his head. “Not always.”
“Before you were a professor? What were you? Law enforcement?”
“Sort of.”
“It’s a yes or no question, Levi.”
“And my answer is sort of.”
She cocked her head to the side. “So what stops you from being a cop?” When he shook his head, she amended her question. “What stops you from being the good guy?”
Now he lowered his head, the blunt burning down to his fingers. He took one more hit, then leaned down to rub it out on the bottom of his boot. “I don’t think I was ever the good guy.”
“No?”
“No.” He shoved the rest of the joint in his pocket and rested his elbows on his knees. “I think I pretended until pretending was too hard.”
“And then?” she whispered.
“Then I let go of all the good,” Levi said softly. “It was easy. Easy to be evil. Being the good guy is a helluva lot harder than being the bad guy.”
“You’re not a bad guy now, though,” Trish responded.
“Yeah?” He turned to her, the shadows playing across his face. “What makes you so sure?”
“How you handled Colton,” she said with hesitation. “That kid idolizes you.”
He shook his head. “I didn’t do anything.”
“You got an eleven-year-old boy to take a shower,” Trish stressed.
“I bribed him,” Levi said with a grin. “Not a nice thing to do.”
She laughed lightly. “You’re a good guy, Levi.”
“Glad you think so.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
She smiled at him nervously. “I better head inside.”
“You’re not going to ask me in?”
Trish felt the question burn through her. It had been so long since she’d been touched by a man. Touched and felt it. She knew instinctively that she and Levi would fit together, be perfect together, but when she opened her mouth to invite him, nothing came out. Maybe, even with all the hot strain of lust running through her, maybe she just wasn’t ready.
Her hesitation stretched between them and Levi nodded slowly. “I understand.”
“No, I mean. I-I want to, but I don’t—”
“Hey,” he interrupted. His fingers cradled her chin and his thumb moved along her lower lip. “Better if we both are ready, yeah?”
She swallowed, nervous. His eyes were steady on hers and she wanted to give him a good excuse. She wanted him to understand. Really understand. Because she couldn’t let him leave without knowing that the problem wasn’t him, but her. He just had to know—
He brushed a kiss across the tip of her nose. “I better get back to Colton anyway.” One final butterfly kiss across her lips. Her lashes fluttered and she leaned toward him.
But he pulled back just as her lips parted. She opened her eyes and met his, still just inches away from her.
“You’re the good guy, Levi,” she whispered.
“So are you, Trish.”
She sat there as he got up and stretched, then crunched along the gravel to his truck. The engine fired up and she watched that ridiculously huge truck drive away and out of sight. She sat outside until the wind got cold and her stomach clenched with hunger. She wished she could be the person Levi needed her to be. She had the sinking suspicion that she wasn’t. And that she never would be.
*****
So…the night hadn’t gone as he’d planned. The day hadn’t gone as he’d planned. After leaving the sheriff’s office this morning, Levi had gone back to his efficiency apartment, intent on doing some research into this crazy town. Instead he’d been met by a little boy sacked out on the couch watching cartoons. He finished Colton’s laundry, made him point out which apartment was his, told the kid to stay put, and headed over to the bank of apartments Colton had pointed to.
The door wasn’t even locked. Levi walked in, not trying to be quiet, but he needn’t have worried. No one was there. Levi packed up the little boy’s measly possessions and then turned the apartment upside down. He found nothing. Nothing of value, anyway. Some empty baggies. Needles. Broken bottles. No food. How could a mother let her kid live like this?
He found a picture from when Colton was little, tucked behind a takeout menu on the fridge. A young woman held a two or three year old Colton, chubby and happy, and she was smiling and healthy. Now he knew what the mother looked like.
So after leaving Trish, after his night did not go as planned, Levi headed out to the strip club. Not to get the happy ending he’d wanted with Trish, but to find the woman that girl in the picture had turned into.
The club was right off the highway north of town. Unlike The Rube, this place was flashy and catered to the truckers driving through, not to mention the masses of the population that were hooked on more than just dancing.
Levi saw no less than three drug deals in the parking lot. He ignored them, keeping his eyes straight ahead and making his way to the door.
With the cover charge paid, Levi entered the Lion’s Den. Stupid name. He took a moment to let his eyes adjust to the light, then moved into the room. Some sort of pop song blasted so loud Levi couldn’t even understand the words. Women were giving lap dances, snorting lines of coke, and leading truckers to the back rooms. Stages were set up strategically around the massive room and blondes, brunettes, and redheads all danced and accepted money.
Levi was only interested in finding one woman.
He found her toward the back, flitting from tabl
e to table, a yellow wig thrown haphazardly on her head. She wore a see through nightie and through it, Levi could see the sores and bruises the drug life had given her.
He waited patiently next to a round stage as she danced for someone, let him paw her, and took his money. She tripped as she stood up from the lap dance and the men around her guffawed. She gave them all a big smile, not understanding their laughter, and turned away. Toward Levi.
But she didn’t see him as she trudged her way in his direction. She was fixing her fake hair and trying to stay upright on four inch clear platform heels. When she came even with Levi, he stepped in her path.
“Oh!”
He grabbed her before she could fall. “Let’s you and I go talk.”
She looked up at him, the yellow wig sliding backward on her head. “What?”
“We have to talk.”
“Who’re you? About what?”
Colton was eleven. This young woman must have had him when she was fifteen or sixteen. But the life she’d lived had aged her. Under her pancake makeup, Levi saw sores caused by drugs. Saw lines caused by stress. But he saw no life left in those old eyes.
“Come on,” he said, interlocking his fingers with her. “Let’s go in a room.”
“A room?”
“Yeah, you don’t do that?”
“Well, I do, but…” she trailed off as Levi tugged her. She came along willingly, trained by her habit and by her job. After a few steps, she led the way and took him to the first open room at the back.
Levi let her hand go as she went inside. He shut the door and engaged the flimsy lock. She was off on the other side, rearranging the pillows on the slimy sofa.
“You want all nude?” she asked, turning back with only a slight misstep.
Levi felt along the wall and found the music dial. He turned it all the way down. The thumping of the bass pounded through the room, but the almost silence made her blink at him.
“What’s your name?” he asked.
“You can call me anything you want,” she simpered.
“Fine. Colton’s mom.”
She blinked again, then narrowed her eyes. “Who’re you?” she asked again.
“What’s your name?”
“Kelly.”
“That’s your real name?”
She nodded, suddenly unhappy with how this private room experience was going.
Levi snapped a finger and the camera in the corner briefly shut off. He cloaked them and snapped his finger again. The red light turned back on.
“I’m Levi.”
She played with the hem of her nightie. “So?”
“I’m the one taking care of your son right now.”
Her cheeks flamed red.
“Yeah, you remember him, right?”
She looked away.
“Look, I get it. It’s hard taking care of a kid by yourself. It’s hard to make money. But you’ve got a good kid and you’re killing yourself—”
“Is that all you wanted?” she interrupted. “To tell me I’m a horrible mother?”
“No, it isn’t,” Levi snapped back. “Because I don’t think you are. I think you need to get off the drugs and—”
“All right all right,” Kelly cut him off. Her eyes blazed with anger. “If that’s all you’ve got to say, I get it. Get off the drugs, stop stripping for money, take care of your kid. I’ve heard it all before and I don’t need to hear it again.”
Levi narrowed his eyes. In an instant he saw it. Saw what would become of her. She’d strip for another year, OD once or twice, get a boyfriend, endure his abuse, then die of another overdose while her son looked on. And he also saw that she had no intention of changing. Some people couldn’t be changed.
“Fine. I won’t say it,” he said softly. “Let’s talk about something else.”
“Like what?”
“Where are your parents?”
“Dead.”
“How?”
“Accident.”
“That’s why you came home?”
“To Magnolia, you mean? Yeah.”
“What kind of accident?”
She shifted on her platform shoes. “Um…”
“Come on, Kelly. Tell me.”
“It’s complicated.”
“How?”
Her eyes finally showed emotion. Sadness. Whatever her faults, Kelly had loved her parents. “Just an accident.”
Levi leaned against the door, willing to wait her out.
For two minutes she stood there, folding and refolding the hem of her nightie. Finally she looked up at him. “We were living in LA, me and Colton.”
He folded his arms over his chest. Waiting.
“My mom called and said my dad was in trouble.”
“What kind of trouble?”
“Money,” she whispered. “He owed a lot of money.”
“To who?” Levi asked when she said no more.
“The mayor.”
Always back to Mayor Elliott. “What did your dad do in town?”
“He owned the general store. And one of the Victorians on Main Street.”
All now owned by the mayor. “Why did he owe him money?”
Kelly shook her head. She reached up and pulled the yellow wig off, then plopped down onto the sofa. Her real hair stuck up in places and dragged down to her shoulders in others. “My mother never said. But when I came home, things were different.”
“How?”
“The mayor wasn’t the mayor then,” Kelly answered. “But he was trying to be. He tried to get all the old families, the original families, to back him. My dad wouldn’t. He said he never liked him. My dad got sick. Frail, really.” She stopped speaking.
Levi waited, but there was no more. Kelly stared off into space, her eyes welling with tears that splashed and streaked down her face.
“Your dad was sick…” Levi prompted.
Kelly looked over at him, almost nervously, as if she’d forgotten Levi was even there. “He wasn’t sick,” she said angrily. “Not right away.”
She was trying to tell him without saying the words, but Levi had no idea what this druggie was trying to convey. Something with the mayor, but it could be anything. “Kelly—”
“I don’t want to talk about this anymore,” Kelly said quickly. She shot up from the sofa and stalked over to him. “You owe me money for bringing me back here.”
“I’m taking Colton,” Levi said instead.
Her mouth dropped open.
“I packed all his shit and he’s going to leave here with me. I’m not giving you anything.”
“You can’t just—”
“Yes, I can. I’ll get a lawyer on it and get you papers. You’ll sign them.”
Kelly bit her bottom lip. “I’ll have to get something for him.”
“No, you don’t.”
“He’s my son!” she protested.
“And you’ll be dead within a year with all your drug use. You don’t give a shit about him. Let him have a life, away from this place.”
All the sadness was gone from her eyes. If Levi had seen a glimpse of remorse or even compassion for her child, he might have thought twice. But all he saw was greed.
“You got something to say?” he demanded.
“I need money—”
“You won’t get it from me.”
She pressed her lips together. “Talk to Mrs. Feeney about my parents if you want to know so bad,” she finally said. “And I’ll be waiting for the papers.”
“Yeah, you do that.”
Levi turned on his heel and headed out of the room, snapping his fingers to allow the camera to record properly. He went past other women selling their bodies, men selling their drugs, and people buying their vices.
This place stunk of something he couldn’t put his finger on.
*****
From the corner booth, Olivier watched Levi storm out of the strip club. He could’ve jumped him outside and killed him. Cut his head off and send his soul back to th
e devil…But he didn’t.
Not yet.
Chapter Thirteen
At nine a.m. the next morning, Trish heard the front door of the sheriff’s office whoosh open. She saw the black, ripped jeans, the chain attached to his wallet, his tight gray T-shirt, and then the sunglasses being taken off and put on his head. She watched as Levi stopped a second, glanced around, then saw her in the long boardroom off to his left. She looked down as he pushed his way into the room.
“What are you doing in here?”
“I decided we needed more room.”
He nodded, his hands on his hips, and looked around. She’d been here since before dawn, turning the boardroom into a murder room. He took in what she’d done, moving her murder wall for each victim into the board room, then wandered over to the blinds on the floor to ceiling windows facing the office. He flicked his fingers between the plastic and looked out over the empty sheriff’s office.
“Where is everyone?”
“Coddling the mayor, I’d expect.”
He shot her a questioning look, then moved closer. His boots made no noise on the carpet, but the chain attaching his wallet to his jeans rattled with each step. “Any news?”
She nodded once and pushed a photo toward him. “The boy. His name was Mitchell Cannon. Fifteen. Freshman in high school. Troubled.”
Levi picked up the picture and Trish saw him drink in the boy’s face, just like she had. He saw the pudgy cheeks, the troubled eyes, the broken spirit.
“His parents report him missing?”
“Yes. Three days ago.”
Levi dropped the photo back onto the table. “So he wasn’t dead long before he was found.”
“No.” Trish pulled the picture back. She gazed down into this poor boy’s face. How easy would it have been for this boy to be Colton? Colton. She looked up at Levi, now leaning on the table, his arms flexing as he drummed his fingers on the wood beneath them. “How’s Colton?”
“Sleeping like a block of wood,” Levi answered with a grin. “Just so you know, I’ll be making a phone call today to a lawyer.”
“A lawyer?” Trish frowned. “For what?”
“Adoption papers. When I leave I’m taking Colton with me.”
Trish felt the air rush out of her. “What?”