Home to the Harbor--A Novel

by Lee Tobin McClain

  But the place she’d stood was empty. Bisky was gone.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  SUNNY WAS RELIEVED when it all settled down. Finally, she and her friends finished talking to the police and their parents. All of the teenagers had gotten lectured at, but everyone had also done a lot of hugging. When Sunny had asked if everyone could stay around and have a bonfire, the parents had conferred and then agreed. The girls were allowed to sleep over, too.

  Now, Sunny stared at the flickering flames of the bonfire and then looked around at her friends. She, Kaitlyn, Venus, the twins and Caden all lounged around the firepit at her house, in lawn chairs and on blankets. The smell of wood smoke mingled with the deep chocolate taste of the s’mores they just finished making and eating, and Sunny felt sleepy and content. It was 1:00 a.m., and it felt like they’d all been together for days.

  Earlier tonight, she’d wondered if she would even make it home alive. She’d never been so terrified in her life as she’d been with a gun poking her in the back, watching the dogs tear each other apart.

  “I’m still totally freaked out.” Avery took a big drink of soda and looked around. “Anyone else?”

  “My heart hasn’t slowed down yet,” Sunny admitted.

  Kaitlyn nodded. “Mine, either, and all I was doing was waiting for you guys to get back.”

  “I feel good,” Venus said. “You saved some dogs at any rate.”

  “Yeah, we are kind of heroes,” Caden said.

  “Except that our parents hate us,” Avery reminded him.

  “As do the cops, don’t forget,” Sunny said.

  Caden poked the ground with a stick. “They should be grateful,” he said. “We sped up their investigation by about six months.” Apparently, the police had been monitoring the online activities of the group behind the fight and were gathering information to try to shut them down permanently and also find out whether they were connected with a bigger, more professional dogfighting organization. They’d lectured the teenagers about taking on things that weren’t their business, interfering with an official investigation and putting themselves at risk.

  That was fine, the police had a point...but meanwhile, they’d been willing to let some dogs be sacrificed, and even if it was for the greater good of the investigation, Sunny thought that was wrong.

  She leaned back in her lawn chair and looked up at the stars, then around the circle of her friends. No one was saying they weren’t mad at her anymore, but it was clear that they weren’t. That was a huge relief. It was over, and she still had friends.

  William had taken that poor little brown dog to an emergency vet. Sunny had texted him, and he’d told her what he was doing and said he didn’t need any help.

  She didn’t know what was going on between him and her mom, because they seemed to be at odds, again.

  But Sunny was through trying to mastermind everything, trying to be in control. It had worked tonight, sort of, but it sort of hadn’t, and she had decided she needed to take a rest from being in charge.

  She started scrolling through her photos. Mostly, they were of cars and license plates, and they’d turned out dark and blurry. Still, the police wanted them to send all the pictures and videos in.

  Caden was sitting beside her, and when he saw what she was doing, he leaned closer. He looked over her shoulder, and as she scrolled to the big car at the scene, the one that looked almost like a limousine, he put a hand on her arm and gripped, hard.

  She looked back up at him. “Something wrong?”

  “Let me see that one.” He leaned closer. “Yeah,” he said, his voice growing grim. “That’s my dad’s car.”

  “Was he there?” Kaitlyn had been listening and now she came over to kneel on the other side of Sunny, also looking at the phone.

  “Your dad was there betting on the dogfight?” Sunny kind of winced. She hated the thought that anyone she knew was there, but for it to be Caden’s father... How awful.

  “I don’t think he was betting on it,” Caden said slowly. “I think he’s behind it.”

  Just as he said it, there was one of those natural silences that punctuates every group conversation. The fire crackled. A small animal rustled in the nearby bushes.

  “Behind it? Your dad’s behind the dogfighting ring?” Kaitlyn’s voice was loud with surprise. The others had been looking at each other, but now everyone laser focused on Caden.

  “But your dad is rich,” Sunny said.

  “Maybe that’s how,” Caden said slowly. “He hasn’t gone to a regular job in the past couple of years, but the money seems to keep rolling in.” He shook his head. “I knew he was up to something. Always sneaking around, turning off his computer screen when me or Mom came in, going into the other room to take calls.” He frowned. “I actually thought he was having an affair, because that’s what Mom thought.”

  “She told you that?”

  “No, but I heard them fighting.”

  How awful it must have been at his house. No wonder he’d moved out and gone to the Blue House to stay for a while.

  Kaitlyn sat back and wrapped her arms around her knees. “I heard that new cop, Evan Stone, say that there must be a bigger group behind this, that it’s a pretty small potatoes organization here on the Eastern Shore. Could your dad be involved with something bigger?”

  Venus stared from Caden to Kaitlyn and back again. “You mean like the mob?”

  “Maybe. I don’t know.” He looked miserable, hunched over, like he was trying to make himself smaller.

  Sunny thought about how Caden’s parents had acted when she’d gone over there. His dad had seemed awful, and his mom wasn’t much help. Neither of them had seemed to care about Caden’s well-being at all.

  She itched to try to fix the situation. But, she reminded herself, she was through taking control, taking over, being bossy. She held out her phone. “It’s your dad. It’s your call. Delete it if you want to.”

  Everybody was quiet then. The only sound was the frogs croaking, quietly at first, then getting louder, then sinking back down.

  Caden stared out across the bay, his forehead wrinkled. “I won’t delete it,” he said finally, not looking at any of them. “But don’t send it to the cops quite yet. I need to text my mom and tell her to get out of there.”

  “Does she have somewhere to go?” Kaitlyn asked.

  “I have an aunt who lives up the shore. Maybe she can go there.”

  They all waited while Caden texted his mom. “Where are you going to stay?” Sunny asked. “Because I doubt you want to go home just now. And you can’t go back to the Blue House. That’s the first place people will look for you.”

  “You can stay at our house,” Aiden said, and Avery nodded.

  “Thanks.” Caden’s phone buzzed and he looked at it. “My mom says she can be out of there in half an hour,” he said. “She must have already known. She’s not surprised.”

  Sunny bit her lip, looking at him. His mom hadn’t even called to see if he was okay. She thought of her own mom, coming to check on her, getting involved, helping all the kids. Sunny was lucky, and she was grateful.

  “Should I send it in?” she asked. “Or wait till tomorrow?”

  “Send it in,” he said grimly.

  Sunny did it, then squeezed Caden’s hand, and then they were all standing and hugging each other. They had been through a lot together, but they were together and they’d come out ahead. That was something to be thankful for.

  * * *

  THE MORNING AFTER the dogfighting mess, Bisky sat in the diner across from her cousin Gemma, pushing around a pile of scrambled eggs. “He said it loud and clear,” she explained. “Said he didn’t want me and that he wasn’t interested. Three times!”

  Gemma took another bite of pancakes and then put down her fork. “It just doesn’t make sense. When I saw you together, at t
he boat-docking thing, it seemed like he really, really liked you. Plus, he doesn’t seem like the kind to be mean, from what I remember about him as a kid.”

  Bisky moved her plate to the side and pulled her coffee cup closer, wrapping her hands around it, feeling like she needed the comfort. Feeling cold.

  “There was really no mistaking it,” she said. “First off, he left me and Sunny there to handle those thugs by ourselves.”

  “Yeah,” Gemma said, frowning, “that wasn’t cool.”

  “His ex needed him.” Bisky pushed out the words past the tight feeling in her throat and face. “I mean, I get it. I’m stronger than his ex, and I’m good with that. But if it means he’s always going to be running back to her when she calls...” She propped her cheek on her fist. “Face it, I’m never going to have the kind of great relationship you have. I’m just not made for it. Men don’t feel that way about me.”

  “Come here.” Gemma stood and started tugging Bisky’s arm.

  “What? Where are we going? We have to pay the check.”

  “Just to the ladies’ room.” Gemma waved to their waitress. “We’ll be right back,” she said, and the woman nodded.

  Gemma was small, but she was determined, and she wasn’t going to stop pulling on Bisky from the looks of it. So Bisky unfolded herself from the booth and let Gemma usher her into the ladies’ room.

  Gemma guided Bisky toward the sinks and stood beside her. “Look,” she said, pointing at the mirror. “What do you see?”

  Bisky looked at herself, the circles under her eyes, the plain ponytailed hair, still wet from the shower. “I see a tired woman who’s not as young as she used to be,” she said, “and her annoying cousin.” To soften her words, she put an arm around Gemma. “You’re sweet to try to make me feel better.”

  “I’ll tell you what I see,” Gemma said, undeterred. “I see a strong woman who’s taken care of her family and earned a living ever since she hit eighteen. A woman who’s made it in a man’s world and stayed good and kind. A woman who’s been a great role model to her daughter, and...” She leaned her head on Bisky’s arm. “And who was a huge help to me when I needed it.”

  “Thanks, hon.” Bisky meant it. Gemma’s words did buoy her up a little.

  “And men do like you. Maybe William’s just a warm-up, and your prince is just around the corner. You never know.”

  That made Bisky smile even while her heart twisted. She didn’t want a prince; she wanted William. “You always were a little unrealistic. Come on, we’d better pay and then I need to get home and make sure Sunny’s okay. That was quite a night the kids had.”

  “You think about what I said.”

  “I will, promise. I’m glad you’re here, Gemma.”

  “Me, too.”

  And it was true, Bisky reflected as she left the diner, waving to people she knew, giving Gemma one last hug. She was thankful for her town, her daughter, her cousin and her friends. She had a good life here, and she’d continue to have that, she knew.

  It was just that, right now, there was a hole in her heart. A William-shaped hole.

  She had too much self-respect to chase after him or put up with what he’d done. But oh, she was going to miss him.

  * * *

  WILLIAM HAD NEVER visited a jail before, but it seemed a fitting end to the last twenty-four hours. Prior to that, he’d never been to a dogfight, nor an emergency vet, so why not finish things out by visiting his newly incarcerated father?

  His emotions were raw. Part of it was about Bisky and trying to understand what had happened between them. Trying to understand how he felt, and trying to figure out how she felt, too. He knew that he cared about her, and up until now, he thought that meant he needed to stay away from her for her own sake, that he was a bad bet. Now, he wasn’t sure if that was the case or not. But he was pretty sure he had ruined his chances with her by some of the things he’d said last night.

  He’d thought hurting her was the right thing to do, to push her away. But his gut told him he’d been wrong, wrong, wrong.

  Great move, Romeo.

  The other thing that had his stomach in knots was his father. He’d honestly never expected to see the man again, had figured that he had probably passed away. To encounter him on the Eastern Shore, so near where their family had lived long ago, had been a complete shock.

  And then he’d realized he should have expected it. His father had always scrambled to earn a living, finding all kinds of ways to make a buck, never worrying too much about the legality of it. And now that William thought about it, he wondered if it had been his father living in the old home place.

  Even to find the man participating in a deplorable blood sport shouldn’t have shocked William, because his father had attended local prizefights whenever he could and had never really known how to take care of animals, had always thought of them as creatures to be used—and abused—not cared for.

  Some of the puzzle pieces were falling into place, but not all of them. Strangest of all was the way his father had acted when William had talked to him. He hadn’t seemed to hate William. It was a marked difference from the angry attitude his father had held toward William his whole life. Ever since William had beaten him up, all those years ago, and called the police on him, he’d expected his father to hold a huge grudge.

  William was sitting on one side of a piece of Plexiglas, and there was a phone, just like on TV. Beside him, an older woman cried as she talked to a younger man, maybe her son.

  There were all kinds of ways a parent could get their heart broken.

  And then his father was in the chair opposite him, on the other side of the Plexiglas, and all his musings flew away as he stared at that face, familiar because he’d grown up with it, and familiar because it was almost the same face he saw in the mirror himself, every morning. He and his dad had always looked a lot alike, and even as weathered and haggard as his father looked, the resemblance was obvious.

  His father picked up the phone, and belatedly, William did the same. His father’s first words surprised him. “I appreciate you coming in,” he said.

  Since when did his father appreciate anything?

  “Did you get that pup to the vet?” his father asked.

  It took William a minute to realize that his father was asking about the health of the dog he had heartlessly put into the ring.

  “Yes. Looks like she’ll be okay. Eventually.”

  “Too bad she got hurt like that.” His father did sound a little sorry, but also matter-of-fact. Hurt dogs must be fairly normal in the dogfighter’s world.

  “Why did you do it?” he asked his father.

  His father actually looked confused for a minute. “What, the dogfighting?”

  “Yeah,” William said.

  His father shrugged. “Got in over my head and couldn’t get out.” He rubbed a finger across what looked like a spot of dirt on the table in front of him. “I couldn’t get out, but I never did like it. Hey. Did you get the brown-and-white pit and the black pup I brought you?”

  William frowned at him. “What are you talking about?”

  “I brought you a couple of dogs, first the brown-and-white one, then a black one. Hope you took care of them.”

  All of a sudden the truth dawned on him. His father was talking about Xena and Muffin. “How do you know about those dogs?”

  “I saw you were in town,” his father said. “Knew you had a soft heart. I remember how you tried to make friends with Diablo. So rather than killing ’em, like I was supposed to, I dropped them off near your place.” He looked vaguely ashamed. “I just hated for them to die when they didn’t need to. Guess I’m getting soft like you, in my old age.”

  William stared at his father, trying to understand.

  His father was getting soft...meaning he would watch dogs get mauled, but he didn’t want to kill them.
It wasn’t much of an improvement, but still, William would never have believed it based on the man he’d known.

  It must be true, though. His father had brought William injured dogs because he knew William would take care of them. He’d changed from the man who’d kicked and mistreated Diablo.

  It was going to take him a while to process that. “If you really have a soft heart toward animals, you need to cooperate until the police find out who’s behind this fighting conference.” William had done a quick bit of internet research on dogfighting and had picked up some of the terminology.

  “Well now, I just might,” his father said. “Looks like I’ll be in here awhile, either way, but maybe I can put an end to some of that sick stuff.”

  “I hope you do.”

  There was a little silence then, awkward. There was both too much and too little to say. “What will you do now, son?” his father asked finally.

  Hearing his father say that one word—son—made William’s throat tighten. “Back to my job in Baltimore, I guess.” His time in Pleasant Shores was nearing an end. His therapist had commented last week about how well he was doing. Impulsively, he said, “I lost my daughter. She got in the path of a thief with a gun. She was fifteen.”

  His father’s eyes widened. “I’m real sorry to hear that.” After a minute of silence, he added, “Your mother lost a child. Miscarriage. Baby girl.”

  Anger reared up inside of William. “I know, and that was your fault.” What was he thinking, starting to see the good side of his father, when his father was essentially a murderer?

  “You mean from that fight you stopped? No.” His father shook his head. “I know that’s what you and that cop thought, but she’d already lost that baby. I found her seeking comfort in a bottle and another man, that last night. He ran off, and she and I fought.”

  William thought back to the scene, the last time he’d seen his mother alive. Could that be true, or was his father lying, making excuses?

  “Still doesn’t make it forgivable,” his father said. “I treated her bad, right up until I got kicked out of town.”