Face the Music: Beyond Jackson Falls Book 1

by Laurie Breton

  They landed in several inches of cold, murky water, struggled briefly. He shoved Washburn’s face underwater. The kid came up choking and gasping, and Mikey planted the prosthetic knee directly in the center of Washburn’s back.

  And it was over. He cuffed Nicky’s hands, hauled the kid to his feet. Patted him down, removed the gun, and pocketed it. They were both breathing hard, both wet and muddy. “Move it!” he snarled, and together, they marched across slimy, greasy ground until they reached the parking lot pavement.

  From out of the darkness somewhere ahead of them, a young, male voice said, “Leave me the fuck alone, old man!”

  He shoved Nicky forward just as Alex, hands cuffed behind his back, emerged from the shadows, followed by a slightly overweight, huffing Police Chief Teddy Burns.

  “Look what I found,” Teddy said.

  Mikey holstered his gun, gave Nicky Washburn a final shove in the direction of his brother. And said, “Took you long enough.”

  * * *

  NICKY WASHBURN REFUSED to talk, but thirty minutes after they read him his Miranda rights, Alex was singing like a little songbird. “It was all Nicky’s gig,” he insisted. “I was just along for the ride.” It didn’t seem to faze Alex at all, the fact that he was throwing his big brother under the bus. The kid was truly a prince among men.

  The clean-up took all night. The booking, the questioning. Another round of hysterical parents. A Sheriff’s deputy who just shook his head upon learning that the arresting officer, his Chief, and one of the girls were all related. Not only that, but the building the boys had just burglarized was Mikey’s property.

  “It’s a small town,” Teddy told the deputy. “Lots of connections in a town this small.”

  “Too many,” the deputy said. “How the hell you ever sort anything out is beyond me.”

  The boys were hauled off to county lock-up; the girls were eventually released to their parents with a strongly-worded warning and a reminder that they might be called to testify later on down the road. But not before Beth got another strongly-worded lecture from her big brother. The events of the past few hours could have taken a more ominous turn. She could have ended up in jail. Seriously injured. Even worse. By the time he was done with her, she was missing a few layers of skin. But he was pretty sure he’d got his point across. His sister had learned a hard lesson tonight. He suspected she wouldn’t soon forget it.

  Dawn was just beginning to lighten the sky when Mikey e-mailed a half-dozen mug shots, including those of the Washburn brothers, to the pawn shop proprietor in Auburn.

  “Go home,” Teddy said. “Get some sleep.”

  Mikey checked the time. “Hardly seems worth it. I’m on duty in less than three hours.”

  “Take the day, Lindstrom. You’ve earned it.”

  He leaned back in his chair and swiveled it a bit. “What about you?”

  “I’m an old fart. I’m in bed by seven. By the time you woke me up, I’d already had five hours of sleep. Go, before I change my mind.”

  So he went.

  He picked up a coffee at Dunk’s, and took his time winding his way through the deserted streets of town. A ribbon of cottony white fog hung over the river, hugging every turn of its course. This town had grown since he was a kid. It would never be a thriving metropolis, but there’d been strong, positive growth. Jackson Falls felt good. And so did he. For the first time in two years, nothing but positive vibes hung over him.

  At the trailer park, he waved to Buddy Staples, delivering the morning’s Sun Journal. In the kitchen, he set down his coffee and stretched tired muscles. His gaze landed on Gunther’s letter, propped against the sugar bowl. I’ll open it when I’m ready.

  It was time. Time to read the letter.

  * * *

  HE SAT AT the kitchen table, the letter in his hands, Beth’s words still circling around inside his head. If you live your life in fear, you’ll miss out on all the good stuff. You need to figure out what it is that’s holding you back, and you need to fix it. Although she’d made some stupid decisions last night, sometimes she seemed wise beyond her fourteen years. In the end, she’d made the right choice. His words had reached her, and aside from a split lip, there’d been no bloodshed. Nobody had died. She’d probably be grounded until she was sixty, but this time, he hadn’t lost anyone. As an added benefit, he’d caught the Washburn brothers red-handed.

  You were my hero then, and you’re my hero now.

  There was one other thing she’d said. You have to let me make my own mistakes. It’s supposed to be part of growing up.

  Maybe she was right.

  He tore open the envelope and shook the letter out into his palm. Took a sip of coffee and slowly, cautiously, unfolded the letter. And began to read.

  Mike,

  If you’re reading this, guess it means I’m no longer among the living. I’m sorry to dump all this on you, but after Jenell had me served with that protection order, I realized it was time to pack it in. She won. I lost. That’s the way it goes sometimes, and there wasn’t really any point to all of it any more. I figure you’ll understand what I mean.

  I know what you’re thinking. You’re blaming yourself. Wondering what you could’ve done to stop me. Get over it. You’re not that important. Truth is, I would’ve done this two years ago if it hadn’t been for you. I knew the jig was up with Jenell a long time ago. I kept trying, just in case, but I knew. When you came along, you were in worse shape than me. I know that’s hard to imagine, but it’s the truth. You needed me, kid, and you gave me a reason to keep getting up every morning. I’d like to think I made a difference. I know you did. You helped me put a few more miles on the old odometer. You saved my ass, at a time when I thought I was past saving. Maybe my own kid didn’t give a shit about me, but somebody else’s kid did. It meant something.

  Now comes the fatherly advice part. You have to stop blaming yourself for what happened to Rachel. You been beating yourself up over that woman for two years, and two years is long enough. It’s time to get on with life. She was a grown woman acting like a spoiled kid. She got herself dead, and almost got you there, too. Stop thinking you have to take on all the world’s troubles. You’re just one guy. The world’s a big place, Mike. It ain’t all up to you. Do yourself a favor and share the load a little.

  You got a good long life ahead of you, if you can just break free and let yourself be happy. Don’t make the same damn-fool mistakes I made. I came back from war a changed man, and I let it ruin me. I should’ve tried harder to be a better husband to Lily, a better father to Jenell. Instead, I sat around feeling sorry for myself until Lily finally gave up on me. Then I just let myself become a bitter, drunken old sot. For God’s sake, Mike, don’t let it do that to you. You’re too much like me in some ways, and it scares the bejesus out of me. There’s life out there. You just gotta go looking for it.

  I think maybe you already figured this out, but Paige is the real deal. Hold onto her. Hold on and don’t let go. Because right now, she’s the best part of you. She can help you figure out the answers. You might not even know what the questions are, but she’ll help you figure it out. Remember that right good woman we talked about? I’m pretty sure it’s her.

  I’m leaving everything to you. My great-aunt left a shit ton of money to me, and I want to pay it forward. Besides, as far as I’m concerned, you’re my real kid. I blew it with Jenell a long time ago. None of it was her fault. I was a piss-poor excuse for a father, but I loved her, more than she’ll ever know. And I loved you. Don’t let it go to your head. But I like to think you kinda loved me back just a little. Whatever you decide to do with the store and the money, I know you’ll do the right thing. Guess that’s all any of us can do.

  Take care of Spike. He’ll be lonely for a while. Maybe you can put him on a diet or something. I was too much of a pushover. Couldn’t say no to those big, sad eyes. But then, I was never a Marine, just a lowly Army grunt. Hopefully you’ll have better luck than I did.

 
; So I guess this is it, kid. Maybe I’ll see you on the other side. Who knows? Just one more thing. If you sell my record collection, I’ll come back and haunt the living shit out of you. Keep it. Listen to it. Maybe you’ll learn a thing or two.

  Carry on, Marine.

  G

  Mikey sat for a long time, the letter still in his hand, his breath coming hard and shallow. They’d all told him the same thing—Beth, Paige, Gunther—each in their own unique way. And he’d heard the words each time, but this was the first time he’d felt them. Let yourself be happy. Was it truly that simple? Was it truly possible to just make the decision to leave the pain behind and choose happiness instead? Because if it was, he already knew where he’d find it. There was really only one place, only one person, that would bring him joy. He’d been an idiot, hard-headed and slow to learn. It had taken a dead friend to remind him of something he should have known all along.

  He was ready to let go. Ready to chase the happiness that had eluded him ever since Rachel died.

  Ready to make his peace with the world.

  * * *

  TEDDY FREAKED OUT when he turned in his two-week notice. “You just get a good man trained, and he leaves you. Damn it, Lindstrom, you’re green as hell, but you have potential. You’re thorough and you have great instincts, not to mention the tenacity of a pit bull.”

  “Ted? Just in case you ever wondered, filling out paperwork and scraping up roadkill is not my dream job.”

  “In another year or two, you could’ve been promoted to detective.”

  “The Jackson Falls PD isn’t big enough to need a detective. There’s no room in the budget for one, and not enough work to keep one busy. I’m moving on, Ted. I’ve been hiding out here, wallowing in my misery, for too long. I need to start living life again, and I can’t do it in this town.”

  “Shit. Greta, do we still have a copy of that ad hanging around? Looks like we’ll be hiring. Again.”

  The serial number on the gun he’d taken from Nicky Washburn matched the one stolen from a private residence out on the County Road a couple of months ago. The pawn shop proprietor identified Nicky as the person who’d sold him the necklace. A few days later, he called again, this time to say that he’d retrieved it from the woman he’d sold it to. Mikey drove down to Auburn to pick it up and bring it back. When he turned it over to Teddy, he made the Chief swear that once it was no longer needed, he would personally return it to Margaret Ellison. And then he visited her at the rehab center and gave her the news.

  “Teddy took an oath. He swore on his life that he’d get it back to you. I wish I could just hand it over, but until the trial is over, we’re required to hold it.”

  “I can wait. I may be a cranky old woman, but I’m not planning to go anywhere just yet.” Her shrewd blue eyes examined his face. “So you’re leaving town?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Good. Your talents are wasted on this place.”

  It took the entire two weeks to tie up all his loose ends, with his landlord, with the VA, with Gunther’s attorney. He got the oil changed in the truck, sold the bike, and packed up Gunther’s record collection. He might be traveling light, but if he left them behind, he was pretty sure that Gunther’s ghost would track him down and make his life hell.

  The night before he left, he had dinner with Mom and Harley. He’d spent most of his life apart from Colleen Bradley Atkins, but in the two years he’d been home, they’d grown close. “I’m not going to cry,” she said. “I’m definitely not going to cry.”

  “It’s not like we’ll never see each other again,” he said, thumbing a tear from her face. “I’ll come home for visits. And you can visit me, any time you want, once I get settled.”

  “It won’t be the same. You may be thirty years old, but you’re still my little boy. I’ll miss you so much. It took us so long to mend our fences.”

  “We’re good, Mom. You do know that, right?”

  “I do.” She touched his face with a cool, tender hand. “Love you. Always.”

  He sat in his truck for a moment or two, taking in the farm where he’d lived as a small child, the place where Grampa Bradley had taught him to drive the John Deere as a teenager. Warm evening light swept across the face of the old barn. Corn tassels danced in the wind, and Holsteins gathered in their usual evening spot, preparing to settle down for the night. This place was as much home as Dad’s house was. Maybe more. Part of his legacy, embedded in his soul. No matter where life took him, he would always come back here.

  He put the truck in gear, followed Meadowbrook Road to the next intersection, then took a right-hand turn onto Ridge Road. It climbed, and climbed, and climbed, until he reached the place where it felt like he was sitting at the top of the world. He turned into a driveway and parked in front of a big yellow house trimmed in sage and plum. Mikey sat looking at its warm, welcoming façade. And then he turned off his engine, got out of the truck, and walked resolutely up to the front door.

  Rob MacKenzie answered the doorbell. His jaw squared when he saw Mikey. “Casey’s not here right now,” he said.

  “I’m not here to see Casey,” he said. “I’d like to have a word with you. If you’ll let me in.”

  Rob’s green eyes, so like his daughter’s, studied Mikey’s face, as if looking for something there. He must have found it, because some of the hostility left his face. Rob stepped back, opened the door wider, and said, “You might as well come in.”

  * * *

  EARLY SATURDAY MORNING, Mikey packed everything he owned into the truck. It wasn’t much: three banana boxes from the IGA, two plastic totes he’d picked up at the Five-and-Ten, one overweight Chihuahua and his trappings, and Gunther’s record collection, stacked in a milk crate set on the passenger-side floor to keep them out of the hot sun. He left the door key on the kitchen table for his landlord, locked the trailer, and left the trailer park without a backward glance.

  He grabbed breakfast at the Jackson Diner, got a take-out order of scrambled eggs for Spike and the biggest cup of to-go coffee they had. He fed the dog and took him to do his business in the tall grass beside the diner. And then he drove to Dad’s house.

  Beth was sitting on the front steps, waiting for him. Coffee in hand, Mikey sat down beside her. “You okay?” he said.

  “I’ll live.” She hesitated. “You okay?”

  He gave it some thought. “Yeah,” he said, surprised. “I am.”

  “Good. I’m glad. I hate it that you’re leaving. But I’m glad you’re okay.”

  “You know I’ll always be there for you, right? If you need anything, all you have to do is call. Anything, any time.”

  “I know.”

  They sat in companionable silence, taking in the sunshine. “I only wanted him to like me,” she said. “That’s all.”

  “I know.”

  “I really liked him, Mikey. But he wasn’t the person I thought he was. And it hurts.”

  He scooted closer, draped an arm around his kid sister’s shoulders. “Love doesn’t always hurt. There are lots of other guys out there, Beth. Guys who’ll appreciate you. Guys who won’t get you involved in their crime sprees.”

  “If it wasn’t so awful, I’d laugh at that.”

  “You have a lot to offer. Don’t ever sell yourself short.”

  “Being fourteen sucks.”

  “It does. But it won’t last forever. Before you know it, you’ll be eighteen and off to college.”

  “So far away. So very far away.”

  “Will you visit me when I get settled? Because I really want you to visit me.”

  “If Mom and Dad will let me. Right now, I’m not very high on their list of favorite people.”

  “They’ll get over it. You just have to be on your best behavior for a while. Prove to them that you can be trusted. Don’t do stupid shit.”

  “It was monumentally stupid, wasn’t it?”

  “Compared to some of the stupid shit I’ve done, you’re not even in the top
ten.”

  She turned her face into his shoulder and wrapped an arm around him. “I love you, Mikey.”

  This was his only regret. Leaving Beth behind. Past the lump in his throat, he said, “I love you, too.”

  And they sat a little longer in the morning sun.

  * * *

  HE ROLLED INTO Memphis early on Sunday evening. His GPS took him to a densely-packed neighborhood on the outskirts of the city. Mikey parked in a shady spot in front of a narrow white shotgun-style home. It had a lawn the size of a postage stamp, but the grass was neatly trimmed, the house freshly painted, and somebody had planted a cheerful cluster of black-eyed Susans beside the steps.

  Mikey double-checked the address, confirmed that he was in the right place. “Stay here,” he told Spike, and got out of the truck.

  He rang the bell, heard it chime somewhere inside the house. The door opened, and a slender middle-aged blonde stared out at him. “Can I help you?”

  “Jenell Ostrom?”

  Her eyes narrowed, and she studied him a little more closely. Looked down at the bag he was carrying. Cautiously, she said, “Who’s asking?”

  “My name’s Mike Lindstrom. I was a friend of your father’s.”

  A tiny line appeared at the corner of her mouth. “Go away.” She turned to leave, and he stuck his foot in the door—the prosthetic foot—so she couldn’t slam it in his face. Jenell looked down at his foot, then back up at him. Distaste painted all over her face, she said, “What do you want?”