Face the Music: Beyond Jackson Falls Book 1

by Laurie Breton

  “So he was driving a little fast. So what? You people—” Washburn turned and looked at Mikey as thought he were pond scum. “You need to be chasing after real criminals and leave decent people alone!”

  Considering the length of the elder Washburn’s rap sheet, his argument about ‘decent people’ seemed a little disingenuous. “Your son,” Mikey said, “was speeding, with two young girls in his car. One’s thirteen, the other’s fourteen. Neither one is a family member. As fast as he was driving, there could have been a tragedy.”

  “But there weren’t no tragedy. You people need to lighten up. Having those girls in the car ain’t against the law.”

  “Oh, but it is,” Teddy said. “He’s only had his license for four months. He’s under eighteen. The law says he’s not supposed to carry any passengers who aren’t immediate family. It’s an automatic suspension.”

  “Maybe their parents should keep the little sluts on a shorter leash!”

  Oh, boy. He waited for the explosion. It came in the form of a petite, red-headed bombshell of a woman. “Just one minute,” Rose said, pulling herself up to her full five-foot-two and getting up close and personal with Washburn’s face. “My daughter is not a slut! And if I ever hear you calling her that again, you won’t live to say it a third time.”

  “Rose,” Jesse said. “Chill.”

  “Please, let her talk,” Rob said. “Because if I’m not mistaken, he called my daughter a slut, too. My kid is not a slut. And if anything had happened to her, Washburn, because your son was driving—” He turned to Mikey. “How fast?”

  “Twenty-seven miles an hour over the speed limit. That’s criminal speeding.”

  Rob turned back to Washburn. “Twenty-seven miles over the speed limit with her in the car, your son would never make it to court. Because there’d be nothing left to go to court once I got through smearing him all over the pavement.”

  “Is that a threat? You heard that, Chief Burns! This asshole just threatened my kid!”

  “I’ll do more than threaten him if I ever catch him with my daughter in his car again!”

  “This,” Greta, the dispatcher, said in an aside to Mikey. “This is why I have no children.” The phone rang, but she ignored it. Clearly, what was happening in front of her was much more entertaining than anything the phone might offer.

  “You can take your kid now, Mr. Washburn,” Teddy said. “A court date will be set. I hope he’s prepared to be hoofing it everywhere, because the judge will be taking his license away for a long, long time. And for the love of God, Greta, answer that damn phone!”

  Greta jumped to obey, murmuring something Mikey couldn’t hear into her headset.

  “We’ll see about that,” Washburn said. “Come on, Alex, let’s get the hell out of this place before some of the craziness rubs off.”

  The door slammed behind them. “We’re the crazy ones?” Emma said, sounding affronted.

  Her father leaned down until he was nose to nose with her. “What in bloody hell were you thinking?”

  “I was just along for the ride. Beth didn’t want to go with him alone. I was being responsible! Watching out for her welfare!”

  As an excuse, it was creative. Inspired, even. But Rob wasn’t buying it. “Out!” her father said to her. “Go to the car. I don’t want to hear another word from you!”

  Emma stomped out the door. It slammed so hard behind her that Mikey thought the glass might shatter. “She’s telling the truth,” Beth said. “It’s all my fault, Uncle Rob. I didn’t mean to get her in trouble.”

  “She’s an independent operator. Capable of thinking for herself. Rose, Jesse, we’ll see you later.”

  As Casey passed, she squeezed Mikey’s arm and mouthed a silent, “Thank you.”

  That left his own little nuclear family. “I know I’m just your brother,” he told Beth, “but I swear to God, if I ever hear that boy’s name come out of your mouth again—”

  “I hate you,” she said, with so much venom that he sat back hard in his chair. “I hate all of you!” And she was out the door. Rose rolled her eyes, then strode after her.

  “Dad,” he said. Jesse gave him a silent, long-suffering look before following his wife and daughter out the door. Except for that one admonition to Rose, he’d kept pretty much silent through the whole debacle. Working with teenagers every day, Dad was used to this kind of thing. But it seemed really unfair, since he’d already raised three teenagers, that now he was saddled with a fourth. Gray hair and wrinkles couldn’t be far behind.

  Silence. Dust motes danced in a ray of sunlight. “Well,” Greta said cheerfully, having finished her phone conversation. “That was fun.”

  Teddy snorted in disgust. “Teenagers,” he said. “A boil on the ass of humanity.”

  “Those girls are good kids,” Mikey said. “They’re just testing the limits.”

  “Just like you did,” Teddy said, his precision gaze boring a hole directly into the center of Mikey’s skull. “You were a real thorn in my side.”

  “Me?”

  “Yes, you. When you and Paige MacKenzie ran off together, I wanted to string up your lily-white ass. I had some frantic parents chewing me out that time, too. Funny, isn’t it? They’re the same damn parents we saw today. Must be something in the water.” Teddy knew better than to say in the genes, because he and Aunt Casey—as well as Mikey’s mother—were first cousins. They shared the same genetic material. The last thing Teddy wanted was for bad karma to come back and smite him.

  “Yet, a decade later, you gave me a job. Even defended me when some people squawked. Why?”

  “You grew up. You spent a decade serving your country. That went a long way towards redeeming you.”

  “I never took you for the patriotic type, Ted.”

  “That’s Chief Ted to you. And there are a lot of things about me that you don’t know. One of which is that if you want to keep this job I gave you out of the goodness of my heart, you’ll find something to occupy yourself. You, too, Greta. The entertainment’s over.” He stood, clapped his hat on his head. “If you can’t find something to do, then tackle that stack of filing over there. Or scrub the toilet. I don’t care what, there’s always something that can be done. I’m going across the street to Dunkin’ Donuts for a cup of coffee. You’d both better be doing something constructive when I get back.”

  At least this time, the door didn’t slam. “He means well,” Greta said.

  “Of course he does. He’s a truly benevolent soul.” When she looked perplexed, he said, “Look it up.” And went to start on the filing.

  * * *

  THE NARROW STRIP of grass that separated his trailer from Fred and Sandra Gosline’s place had finally been tamed into submission with the old lawn mower he’d swiped from a shadowy corner of Harley’s barn. Mowing around the silvered wooden posts that held an ancient clothesline placed there by some predecessor had been a challenge. But once he’d retrieved the weed whacker from the rusted metal shed out back, he’d put that mess to rest without hesitation. It was a thankless job, yard work. But now, standing at the edge of his driveway, he had to admit that it looked damn good for a crappy trailer park. Not a blade of grass out of place.

  Behind him, some noisy mechanical contraption rumbled to a stop. Mikey turned and eyed the dented pickup truck, painted a hideous shade of army green and carrying with it the distinct odor of sheep dung. Two bright red kayaks hung from a rack suspended over the truck bed. At the wheel, Paige MacKenzie turned the ignition key to the off position, and the rumbling came to a halt. The door squeaked open, and she jumped down from the cab with enviable agility.

  He watched her approach, watched the swing of those slender hips, the long, shapely legs in athletic shorts. “I heard you had a little excitement the other day,” she said.

  “You heard correctly. Beth hasn’t spoken to me since.”

  “Emma locked herself in her room, and she says she’s not coming out until Dad apologizes.”

  “Y
e gods. She’ll be thirty-six years old before that happens.”

  “I haven’t had the heart to explain it to her yet. You just mowed your lawn. God, I love that smell.”

  Amy used to get hay fever. Mowing always set it off. She’d hide in the house with all the windows shut while he worked around her postage-stamp-sized yard. “So,” he said, “what’s with the truck?”

  “It’s Dad and Casey’s farm truck. You’ve seen it before.”

  “Even if I hadn’t, I’d recognize it by the smell. What I really meant was why are you driving that instead of your car?”

  “The kayaks. I thought we’d take them out. Unless you have other plans.”

  He crossed his arms and planted both feet firmly at a 45-degree angle. “I am not going kayaking. Kayaks are for sissies.”

  “You really think that? You’re in for a surprise, Lindstrom.” Those green eyes of hers made a slow perusal of him, up and down, before she said, “You might want to change into a pair of shorts before we go.”

  “I’m not going.”

  “And put on some sunscreen.”

  He widened his stance, crossed his arms a little more tightly. “Sorry, but no can do. I can’t get the leg wet.”

  She rolled her eyes and said, “We won’t get wet.”

  “Water’s wet. Kayaks are tippy. Put the two together, and they spell trouble.”

  “That’s a fallacy. They’re not tippy at all. You could probably stand up in the damn thing without tipping it over.”

  “And did you ever learn to swim, MacKenzie? You could drown yourself out there.”

  “No, but it doesn’t matter. We’ll both have life vests. If I get dumped, I’ll float. As for you, if I recall correctly, you swim like a river otter.”

  She had him there. Before he lost the leg, he’d been a rock-solid swimmer. Now…who knew? He hadn’t even tried since his injury. Because trying meant he might fail. And failing wasn’t an option. “If I get it wet,” he argued, “it could be ruined.”

  “Then leave the damn leg in the truck! If you prop it up in the window, I bet it’ll scare off any would-be robbers a lot quicker than a gun and a badge.”

  The corner of his mouth twitched, and he felt himself softening. He deliberately hardened his features, hoping to hold back the smile that wanted so desperately to break through. “You think?”

  “You don’t need the leg anyway. All you need in a kayak is two good arms.”

  She was right, but he didn’t intend to admit it. He also didn’t intend to tell her that Hell would freeze rock solid before he’d remove the prosthesis while she watched. Or put on a pair of shorts and leave it on display. There were lines a man didn’t cross. Instead, he said, “If I do decide to go, I’ll just have to take my chances.”

  “Suit yourself. If you fall overboard, I guess you’ll just have to buy another leg.”

  “Guess I will. How’d you know I had the day off?”

  “This is Jackson Falls. This town has eyes and ears everywhere.”

  “In other words, you called Dispatch.”

  “And I might’ve called Dispatch. Hop in. I bet you’ve never had a ride in this baby before.”

  “You’d be surprised. If I’m not mistaken, it once belonged to my Grampa Bradley. Twenty-odd years ago, and it was ancient then.”

  “I guess it still does whatever they need it to do. And it’s still road-worthy, with an inspection sticker and everything. I’d offer to let you drive, but…”

  “It’s a stick. I remember.”

  “So are we going, or not?”

  He’d known all along that he would give in to her. Why had he even bothered to fight it? “Let me put the mower away and get a rubber boot for the leg,” he said. “I might like living life on the edge, but there’s no point in pushing it.”

  ***

  HIS KAYAK SKIMMED, smooth and silent, across the glassy surface of the pond. No motor, no wake, no noise pollution. Just the quiet splash of his paddle slipping in and out of the water, the crystalline droplets, diamond-like in the sunlight, sloughing off the paddle and back into the pond. Thirty feet in front of them, a pair of loons swam past, unfazed by their presence. Beside him, Paige said softly, “Look.”

  He followed her gaze. An eagle soared overhead, wings spread wide, tilting and gliding on the air currents. Mikey closed his eyes, rested the paddle across his lap, and let the sun warm his face. Just drifting. Behind him, on the shore, an insect buzzed, the buzz reaching a crescendo before it died back down. Nearby, Paige’s paddle made small splashes on the surface of the water. Other than that, there were no sounds. Just stillness. Outside him. Inside him. Nothing but the slow and even sound of his own breathing.

  Paige drew up beside him, her kayak gently nudging his. “You okay, champ?”

  Slowly, he opened his eyes. Her hair, a silken halo of golden curls around her shoulders, softened the strong lines of her face. Her life vest, which should have made her look androgynous, instead accentuated her femininity. She brushed away a horsefly that hovered around her head, and he said, “Thank you.”

  She tilted her head quizzically. “For what?”

  “For this.” He spread his arms to indicate their surroundings. “All of this. This is the first time in a long time when I’ve felt no stress or anxiety. I’m just…here. In the moment. And it’s good.” He narrowed his gaze, studied her face. “How’d you know?”

  “I’ve done this before. I know how it feels. And you seemed to—”

  “Need it?”

  Quietly, she said, “Yes.”

  “I’m not a religious person. But if I was…this makes me feel closer to God than anything I’ve ever done. Does that sound silly?”

  “Spiritual experiences are never silly.”

  He picked up his paddle, and without speaking, they continued along the shore, past bright green grasses, past pond lilies, past frogs who leapt into the water as the kayaks glided by. He’d been wrong when he said kayaking was for sissies. It was work. Simple, clean, straightforward work, but he knew he’d be feeling it tomorrow in his upper arms and his chest.

  Ahead of him, Paige paddled languidly, the sunlight that cascaded down on all that golden hair lending her a glow that struck him hard in the solar plexus. Only some of that glow came from the sun. Most of it was simply Paige. She glowed with an aura so bright it blinded him. Like a full harvest moon, she could have lit the night sky with her own brilliant light.

  Spoiled. Rich. Accustomed to getting her own way. He’d heard her called every one of these things by people who only knew her public persona, knew that she was famous and rich, knew that her folks were famous and rich before her. But the public persona wasn’t the real Paige. Yes, she had an edge. Yes, she had a smart and sassy mouth. But those were just a disguise she wore to protect the real Paige who lived beneath. The one who’d grown up in a South Boston triple-decker, the daughter of a hardworking single mother who’d died when Paige was just fifteen. The one who’d then been sent to live with a father and stepmother who were strangers. The one who, underneath that acid tongue, possessed a heart that was kind and giving and loyal. Paige MacKenzie treated the people she cared about with a fierce protectiveness that was all-encompassing. And somehow, by some bizarre twist of fate, he fell into the category of people she cared about.

  He dipped his paddle into the water, right side, left side, right side again, and his kayak shot forward until it came parallel to hers. For a time, they floated side by side without speaking. “I was about to get a promotion,” he said without breaking rhythm. “Master sergeant. The paperwork was in process.”

  She didn’t say anything, just set down her paddle and listened. He slowed the kayak, brought it around in a circle and drew it back alongside hers. “I’d had enough of the Middle East. I had plans to transfer back to San Diego and become a drill sergeant.”

  Across the pond, a loon shrilled its plaintive cry. “And then—” He struggled with the urge to tell her about Rachel, to tell her tha
t Rachel was supposed to come back to the States with him. That they’d made plans for things that would never happen now, because Rachel was gone, and his punishment for his part in her death was to continue living. But he couldn’t say it. He’d kept Rachel hidden away, close to his heart, for so long. He wasn’t ready to share. The only person who knew about Rachel was Gunther. Not even her father knew what they’d meant to each other. The general had visited him in the hospital. Had thanked him for his dedication and his service, had offered condolences for his loss of a limb. Hadn’t once blamed him for what happened.

  He felt like a fraud.

  No, it was better to leave Rachel out of it. But there were things he could tell Paige. Things he wanted to tell her. “It was hard at first,” he said. “Everything I knew, everything I felt, everything I was, was tied up with the Marine Corps. And I knew it was over. Without warning, without planning. My entire future, gone in an instant. I had no idea what I was supposed to do next.”

  “So you came home.”

  “So I came home, to the place where, if you have to go there, they have to take you in. But people don’t understand. They can’t. They haven’t been there. They expect me to just come back, acclimate, and everything will be hunky-dory. But it doesn’t work that way. You don’t ever stop being a Marine. You can’t leave it behind. And you get addicted to it. The danger, the excitement. I can’t even compare this place with that kind of life. I don’t know how to give a damn about any of this.” He paused, considered his words. “I love my family. And Jackson Falls will always be home. I grew up here. But being here is killing me, one day at a time. I don’t belong here anymore. And because everyone in this little hick town knows what happened, I feel like a freak show. The Incredible One-Legged Man.”

  “It isn’t easy.”

  “No. It’s not. I don’t even know why I’m telling you this. Maybe because you’re a good listener. It just feels right.”