by S. M. Koz
Brittany pulls a small canister out of her bag and aims it as his face. “One more step and you’ll be blind for a week.”
“What’s going on?” my mom asks, finally waking up. “Hailey?” She looks totally strung out.
“You know these bitches?” the guy asks, slinking back to bed.
“Where’s Chase?” I ask.
“I dunno.”
“His place is empty.”
She shrugs and slowly crawls to a sitting position. “Haven’t seen him in a few days. Did you finally come to your senses? Realize you can’t make it without dear old Mom?”
“No. This is the last you will ever see of me.”
She narrows her eyes and sneers. “That’s right. Because you got some rich sugar daddy now.”
“Rich?” the guy next to her asks, taking interest in us again.
“Yeah, she’s living it up in Pinehurst. Too good for us now.”
I ignore her words and attitude. “Chase broke into their house, trashed it, stole things.”
My words don’t have the effect I thought they would. Rather than a victorious smile, she stills. “That little shithead,” she whispers, pounding her fist on the mattress.
I know she doesn’t care about the Campbells, which means her anger is directed at something Chase did to her. I might be able to use this to my advantage.
“He didn’t share with you?” I ask. “He stole over ten million dollars’ worth of stuff and didn’t even throw you a hundred on his way out of town?”
That gets her attention. She jumps out of bed and rushes to the living room. Still naked, she throws open the door, runs to his trailer, and bangs on the door for like five minutes, but it’s just as empty now as it was when we arrived. Joelle starts to get out of her car, no doubt concerned by the sight of a naked woman running around the trailer park, but Brittany waves to her and yells that we’re fine. She looks less than thrilled, but does go back into her car.
Brittany found a robe in my mom’s closet and tosses it to her when she returns.
“Where’d he go?” I ask.
“What’s it worth?” she replies, slipping the robe over her shoulders.
“Seriously? You’re going to demand money from your own daughter?”
“I raised you for seventeen years. You got money now. You owe me.”
Her twisted logic is maddening. She didn’t raise me. She never did a thing for me, but I do want information. If she knows where he is, maybe we can figure out not only how he broke in, so the Campbells will know it wasn’t me, but also where the Monet is. “Twenty bucks,” I offer.
“No.”
“Fifty bucks.”
“No.”
“I’m not rich!” I yell. “That’s all I can give you.”
“Call your boyfriend.”
I blow out a long breath and run my hand through my hair. “How much do you want?”
“Ten thousand.”
I stare at her like she’s lost her mind. “They’re not going to give you ten thousand dollars. That’s ridiculous!”
“Five thousand.”
“Get real.” I roll a bottle with my foot. “How about a hundred?”
“Two thousand.”
“Five hundred.”
“One thousand.”
“Six hundred.”
She shakes her head. “One thousand dollars and I’ll tell you where he is.”
She knows she has the upper hand and won’t budge on this. I don’t have any choice but to agree if I want to find him. “Tell me now and I’ll get you the money when the police find him.”
“No way. I want the money first.”
“You could lie to me. I’ll give you fifty now and the rest when they find him.”
“Fifty right now?”
“Yes.” I’m glad I put some money in my pocket before we left. I thought it would be for an emergency, not to bribe my mom, but if the police can find Chase, then it’s totally worth it.
“Let me see it.”
I pull the three bills out of my pocket. It’s all I have on me.
“His plan was to go to Atlanta. Stay with his cousin,” she says, her mouth watering at the sight of the bills.
“What’s the cousin’s name?”
“Dwight.”
“Dwight what?”
“Berner.”
I toss her the bills and pull Brittany out of the trailer.
“I want the rest of my money,” she yells from the doorway, her robe hanging open and giving everyone yet another view we don’t want to see.
When we climb into Joelle’s car, she just sits there quietly, staring straight ahead. Nobody says anything for a moment, and then she puts the car in gear and eases out of the parking lot.
When we’re back on the main road, she says, “Is everything okay, girls?”
“Yes. Can we stop at the police station?” I ask.
“I can’t think of a better place to stop,” she replies with nod.
Five minutes later, we’re in a small, gray room at the Carthage police station. There’s nothing in the room but a table, three chairs, and wall-length mirror. It’s cold and intimidating, probably exactly what they were going for.
“How are you getting the rest of the money?” Brittany asks, as we wait for someone to enter.
“I don’t know. Maybe she’ll forget or die before they find him.”
Just then, the door opens and a tall man with gray hair, a gray beard, khaki pants, and a black button-down shirt enters. He smiles and sits opposite me.
“You have information about a crime?”
“Yes,” I nod, my throat going dry. I’ve never been in a police station or talked to a cop before. Even though he’s acting friendly, it’s a little unsettling, which is ridiculous since I didn’t do anything wrong.
“Which crime?”
“The burglary of the Campbell’s home in Pinehurst.”
He sits up straighter and his eyes widen slightly, like I’ve grabbed his attention. “That’s a big case. What do you know?”
“I think Chase Riddle is responsible and he may now be in Atlanta with his cousin Dwight Berner.”
“I see,” the guy says, leaning forward on his elbows. He tents his fingers and taps them back and forth a few times before continuing. “How do you know all of this?”
“I was living with the Campbells for a while and my mom and Chase wanted me to help them break in to the house, but I refused. Someone got in and now Chase is missing. Plus, there was a message left in my bedroom that makes me think it was him.”
“How’s your mom involved?”
“I don’t think she is. I think Chase did it on his own, much to her disappointment.”
“What about the cousin?”
“I don’t know what role he played.”
“Anything else?”
I shake my head.
“Okay. I’ll relay this information to the proper authorities. Can I get your name and number in case I have any questions?”
“My name is Hailey Brown, but I don’t have a phone.”
“Address?”
“I’m not sure. I was just moved to a group home in Sanford. I don’t know what the address is.”
He eyes me warily and I get a sinking feeling in my gut. He’s going to think I was involved, too. Everyone thinks I’m involved.
“How can I reach you?” he asks.
“Call DSS,” Brittany says from next to me. “Her social worker is Sherry Billows. She’ll be able to contact her.”
He nods and then leads us out of the room and the station. As we’re walking to Joelle’s car, I whisper, “He thinks I helped them. Why does everyone think I’d do something like this?”
She lowers her arm on my shoulders and squeezes. “Because you’re a foster kid.”
Chapter 35
BRAD
“What’s up?” I ask Michelle as she walks through the front door. She texted me earlier asking if she could come over.
“I heard
what happened. I wanted to make sure everyone’s okay.”
“Yeah, we’re fine. No one was here when it happened, luckily.”
We walk into the living room, which is mostly back in order, although it looks empty with all the stolen and broken pieces gone. She tenses as she spins around taking it all in. When her eyes reach the gallery on the landing above, her mouth drops open. “They’re all gone,” she whispers.
“Not all of them. A couple of them had spray paint on them or were cut, so they’re getting restored. Mom’s packed the others away. She can’t stand to look at them right now.”
“The Monet?”
“Gone.”
“No,” she whispers, lowering herself to the couch.
“Yeah. Mom’s devastated. That thing survived five wars on two continents, but was no match for that asshole.”
“You know who it is?”
I sit next to her and shrug. “It has to be Chase.”
“Who’s Chase?”
“Hailey’s ex-boyfriend.”
“Oh,” she whispers again. “Did Hailey help him? Is that why your parents kicked her out?”
I shrug again. I don’t know what to believe anymore. I had hoped Hailey would call after learning I don’t blame her, but she hasn’t. We did get a call from the detective two days ago. They have a new lead on Chase that’s taking them down to Atlanta. He wouldn’t tell us where the tip came from, but I wonder if it was Hailey. If so, why is she working with the cops now, but didn’t say anything the day we got back? This whole thing is a mess.
“He looked like bad news that one night he was here,” Michelle says, lowering her hand to my knee.
“Yeah.”
“I’m sorry Hailey didn’t turn out to be the girl you thought she was.”
I shrug yet again. I don’t know what to say. I still think she was forced into helping him, but I may never know the truth. It could be she’s not the girl I thought she was. Michelle could be right, although my heart doesn’t believe it.
“What are you doing today?” she asks.
“Not much.” We finished all the cleaning we could last night. Mom decided she would go back to work today, so I’m stuck here by myself. I remember looking forward to this time when Hailey and I would have all day by ourselves. Now I’m just ready for Christmas to be over and school to start back up.
“Want to watch a movie?”
“No working TV.”
“Oh.”
“Want to play pool?”
“The table was smashed.”
“Sit outside and listen to music?”
She’s smiling and looks genuinely concerned for me. Since I’ve got nothing better to do, I agree. It’s an unusually warm and sunny day that feels more like late spring than mid-winter. I sit on a lounge chair on the patio, close my eyes, and soak up some rays.
I expect her to sit in the chair next to me, but she plops her ass next to mine.
“Where are your parents?” she asks.
“Work.”
“What do you want to listen to?”
I open one eye. She’s got her feet on the ground, but she’s much closer than I’d expect or like. She holds her phone in front of me.
I grab it, swipe until I find a rock band, pass it back to her, and close my eyes again, hoping she’ll move to the other chair.
She doesn’t move, but she does remain quiet through the first two songs. When the second one finishes, she says, “In a few weeks, we’ll be able to find out if our baby’s a boy or a girl.”
“Cool.”
“Do you want to go to the appointment?”
“Sure.”
“Do you want to start thinking about names?”
“Whatever you want is fine.”
I feel her shifting her weight next to me. “You don’t want to help?”
“I think it means more to you than me.”
She sniffles and I open my eyes again. Her nose is red and she looks like she’s doing everything in her power to not cry. I’m an ass. “Sorry, that was inconsiderate.”
“No, it’s how you feel.”
“How about Nathan for a boy and Grace for a girl?” I suggest.
“Did you put any thought into those?”
No. “Sure.”
“Maybe,” she replies, scrunching up her nose. “But I was leaning toward Caleb or Olivia.”
“Those are good, too.” I close my eyes again.
“Or maybe Braden?”
“Okay.”
“Veronica.”
“Great.”
“Ezekiel.”
“Awesome.”
“Bradley Junior or BJ.”
“Sure.”
“Are you even listening to me?” she asks, slapping my thigh. Her hand stays there and then slides inward, causing my body to involuntarily react to her movement. “We are not calling our child BJ,” she says.
“Then why’d you suggest it?” I ask, opening my eyes and readjusting my shorts in a pitiful attempt to hide what she did to me.
“To see if you were paying attention.”
I pick up her hand and move it to the seat next to me.
“You didn’t like that?” she asks, leaning her body against mine.
“Michelle, we’ve been through this.”
“It looks like you liked it.”
When I don’t answer, she continues, “We’ve got nothing to risk now.” Her hand goes back to my thigh, slowly running up and down the outside before she circles inward again. “I’ve missed you.”
“We see each other all the time.”
“No, I’ve missed this,” she says, crawling on top of me.
“We only did that once.”
“We could do it again.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“I told you I don’t have those feelings for you.”
“It doesn’t have to mean anything.”
“I don’t do that anymore.”
She pulls her shirt over her head. I’m surprised by her belly. It used to be flat as a pancake, but it bulges in the center now. “Please?” she asks, already unbuttoning her pants.
“Why would you want this?”
“It’ll feel good.”
“And then you’ll expect more from me.”
She doesn’t answer, but she does push her jeans down to her knees and then unclasp her bra. It falls onto my chest. My body reacts again to the sight of her and I want to kick myself in the nuts.
She reaches down and touches me through my shorts. “Come on, it will be fun,” she says. She leans over and invades my mouth with her tongue while her hand continues rubbing. It’s not sweet or gentle. It’s a full frontal assault and I feel myself starting to cave.
This is it. I either need to push her off of me or there will be no going back. She’ll get exactly what she wants, and then I’ll be forced to deal with the aftermath. Again.
“No, Michelle,” I say.
“You’re mouth says no, but the rest of your body says yes.” She starts to pull my pants down, completely undeterred.
“No,” I say more loudly. I pick her up, slide out from under her, and lower her back to the lounge chair. “It doesn’t matter how many times we have sex, it’s not going to change my feelings for you. I’m sorry. We can’t do this again. We shouldn’t have done it the first time.”
Her mouth quivers, she sniffs, and then the tears start flowing. Holy hell, the tears. Huge, honking tears that stream down her face and land on her lap, completely soaking her lacy pink underwear.
I stand with my back to the house and pound my head against the brick. How did it come to this? What is wrong with her?
“Do you want to talk to someone?” I ask. “I could call Abbie for you.”
“No,” she whimpers.
“What can I do?” I ask with a sigh. It’s the last thing I want to offer, but what am I supposed to do with her sitting in my backyard, half-naked, and crying a river?
“I don’t get it,” s
he sniffles. “Hailey’s gone. If you can’t have her, why won’t you take me? I love you, Brad.”
Shit.
“No one will ever love you as much as I do,” she continues. “Hailey was never right for you. I’m right. Why can’t you see that?”
“I don’t love you. We’ve talked about this.”
She slings her head back and wails again. I’m seriously considering calling Dad. I don’t know what the hell is going on, but it’s messed up.
“Our baby needs its mom and dad together.”
“No, it doesn’t. I promise I’ll be there for the baby,” I say, finally putting into words what I’ve been thinking since my heart-to-heart with Dad. ”I’ll watch him or her on weekends and breaks. I’ll do my best to be a good dad, but we don’t need to be together.”
“Yes, we do. That’s how it’s supposed to be.”
“There are plenty of single parents who share custody.”
She stands, almost trips over her pants at the knees, catches herself, and then stalks to me. Jabbing my chest with her finger, she says, “You’ve ruined everything! This is not how it’s supposed to be!”
“What did I ruin?” I ask, grabbing her hand so she’ll stop poking me with it.
“Everything! Absolutely everything!”
“Then get a fucking abortion!” I yell, completely overwhelmed and annoyed by her behavior. She’s the one who refused to use a condom, so there’s no way she can blame this all on me.
She falls onto the stone patio in a heap, her shoulders sagging, her head hanging low. I gather her clothes from the lounge chair and lay them in front of her.
“I’m calling your mom,” I say, pulling my phone out of my pocket.
*****
That night, during dinner, I decide to ask Dad about Michelle’s break down. It was so completely out of character that I have no clue what to make of it. I hate how I reacted, especially telling her to get an abortion, but she pushed me to my limit.
“Can I ask you something, Dad?”
“Of course.” He lowers his fork and gives me his undivided attention.
“Michelle came over today and kind of … had a melt down.”
“What do you mean by melt down?”
“Lots of crying. Some screaming.”
“About what?”
“I’m not entirely sure.”
“Sounds like pregnancy hormones to me,” Mom says. “You need to cut her a little slack the next few months. You’ve got it easy compared to her.”