The Secrets on Forest Bend

by Susan C. Muller

  No, that would only have postponed things, and she had already decided——no more short-term, surface relationships. But what was the alternative? No relationships at all? Besides, she really liked Adam. She’d come closer to showing her inner self to him than to anyone else, and he had accepted her as she was. He’d even liked the things about her most people drew away from.

  Coming so close to finding someone that she actually cared for and then losing him made the loneliness more acute. Well, Adam hadn’t officially broken up with her yet, so maybe there was hope.

  No more moping. “Come on, Kendra,” she said. “It’s time for me to go back to work.”

  Doris never called, so Adam phoned her on Wednesday night. She still didn’t have the gun, but offered to let him come over and help her wait for it. “I’m sure we could find something to do to help make the time pass,” she said. “A good-looking guy like you shouldn’t have to wait alone.”

  He hung up and dialed Ruben.

  “It looks like we’re a go for tomorrow night. You’re coming with me, aren’t you?”

  “I wouldn’t miss it for the world. I want to see Marshall’s face when he realizes you’re on to him. You’ll have to pick me up. Mamacita hid my car keys until the doc gives the okay.”

  “Tell her we’re going to join some friends for a beer. Maybe Marshall will offer us one so you won’t be lying to her. I know what a piss poor job you do of that.”

  Ruben didn’t like to admit that as a detective in the prestigious Homicide unit, he couldn’t lie to his mother with a straight face.

  If Tuesday and Wednesday seemed to last forever, Thursday was absolutely unending. Adam couldn’t concentrate on the computer, pulling up the same information several times. Hard Luck called him in his office to talk about an old case, and he couldn’t remember the particulars.

  If he didn’t get his head together, he was going to screw up, not only with Marshall, but his whole career.

  After lunch, he carried his notebook to Nelson’s desk. “What did you find when you searched the aunt’s place?” Adam asked.

  “We hit the mother-lode.” Nelson was practically jumping with excitement, a sight that made him look even more childlike. “Guns, drugs, cash, even records. And guess what was in the bedroom? Mama’s jewelry. In the backyard, the flowerbed had been dug up and looked like a grave, maybe more than one. We’re waiting for the crime scene unit to let us know what’s in there. They’ll take all day, but we already have arrest warrants in the works. We’ll be leaving in about ten minutes. Want to join us?”

  Some lieutenants would have broken up the two sets of partners, placing one of the larger men with a smaller partner. Hard Luck knew putting Ruben and Nelson together would make them both look ludicrous. That would cause them not be taken seriously. Besides, Nelson and Steinberg were well known for their ability to appear unthreatening and dupe suspects into opening up, both in interrogation and at the front door. Many dangerous criminals had foolishly opened the door to Nelson’s smiling baby face.

  The warrant arrived on time and Adam grabbed at an excuse to get out of the office. Steinberg laughed when Adam hobbled into the van. “You’d better come in the front with us, Toe Jamb. If they get out the back window and start to run, I don’t think we should count on you to give chase.”

  “We’ll put Tommy and Tenequa in the back,” Nelson said. “That way Tenequa can scare them into giving up and Tommy can bore them to death when he reads them their Miranda rights.”

  As the van pulled in front of the suspects’ house, with his vest on and his gun drawn, Adam suddenly got nervous. He’d been in on too many arrests to count and if he had been frightened, he didn’t realize it until after the excitement was over. This time he kept remembering all the near disasters that had happened to him in the last two weeks.

  Was he uptight because he kept screwing up, or did he keep screwing up because he was uptight? Either way, it wasn’t a good time to get a case of the nerves. He refused to accept any other reason.

  Everything that happened to him, every near disaster, could be explained by the fact that he was distracted. He needed to concentrate on the job at hand. It wasn’t only his life he was endangering, but those around him as well. By the time they parked, he was in full cop mode.

  The street was almost deserted. School kids were in class, and drug dealers were resting. It was too late for the morning rush and too early for the afternoon one. The police van with a cable company logo didn’t arouse any suspicions. As the van turned the corner, a sudden afternoon thunderstorm blew in and anyone left on the street hurried inside. A perfectly timed clap of thunder covered the sound of the van door opening. The unit was able to deploy to their assigned positions without anyone noticing.

  Nelson waited until everyone was in place and completely out of sight. Music from a video game spilled from the front room, confirming the brothers were home. He nodded at Steinberg and Adam, hidden on either side of the door. A stray leak sent ice cold drops of rain down the back of Adam’s neck as he pressed himself against the old frame house.

  Nelson rang the bell. As someone approached the other side of the door, he held up a brown paper bag and looked at the peephole, a king-sized smile on his baby face. “I wanted to return your belongings, Mr. Avalon.”

  A voice called toward the back of the house. “You hear that, Antwoin? I told you those motherfuckers wouldn’t find a thing.”

  DeJean opened the door and reached for the bag. Nelson took a step back. DeJean leaned forward, stretching his arm out. “‘Bout time,” he said, just as he spotted Adam reaching for him. DeJean twisted, and threw the bag in Adam’s face.

  Adam swatted the bag aside. He pushed off on his sore foot, ignoring a sharp pain that told him he shouldn’t have done that. DeJean swung a meaty fist at his face. The fist connected, but Adam grabbed his wrist and threw him to the floor.

  DeJean was face down on the rotting porch with Adam’s knee on his back and his hands cuffed behind him when Adam leaned close to his ear. “Just lay here quietly like a good fellow and that little love tap you gave me can be forgotten. Try to warn your brother, and your ass will never see daylight again.” Adam increased the pressure on his knee, and DeJean couldn’t have made a sound if his life depended on it, which it did. Before DeJean finished nodding, Steinberg had pulled Antwoin off the sofa and Nelson was cuffing him.

  The raid with Nelson and Steinberg went perfectly. It was proof the only thing wrong with him was lack of concentration. Adam’s jaw was sore, but that was a small price to pay for taking two dangerous criminals into custody. The streets of Houston were safer because of the work he’d done, not just on the raid, but on the computer as well. The evidence he found was strong and would hold up in court.

  The feeling of pride lasted on the ride home. It helped him face the chore that was coming. He changed quickly into casual clothes, but left the vest on, concealed by a light rain jacket. He put his weapon at the small of his back, covered by his shirt. His back-up stayed on his ankle.

  When he picked up Ruben at 7:30, he could feel the nerves start again. It was becoming more difficult to put Jillian’s claims out of his mind.

  Sure the shed was wobbly and he’d been distracted crossing the street, but that mirror should never have fallen. And having the large set of clippers stick in the ground two inches from his nose was beyond bizarre. Poor old Rover. He was sick, true, but he’d been responding to the insulin and seemed to be doing well. Adam refused to think about what had led him to face Hector alone.

  “Are you ready, compadre? Let’s get this thing in gear.” Ruben was so big that with the addition of his vest, he looked like a mountain. Adam was sure he heard the springs protest when he eased himself onto the seat. He could picture the car, tilting to one side.

  “I’m ready.” Even he knew he didn’t sound that way.

  Ruben gave him a sidelong glance. “If you don’t think this is a good idea, speak up now.”

  “It
may not be a good idea, but it’s the only one we’ve come up with, so let’s get it over with. I don’t like to think of that crooked sleaze-bag being in the department with honest officers any longer than necessary.”

  “We could always go for the direct approach——a Louisville Slugger to the kneecaps. That way he’d have to take disability and our problem would be solved.”

  Adam contemplated it for a minute. “I’m tempted, I have to admit. Angry as I am, I’m afraid once I started swinging I wouldn’t be able to stop, and then where would we be? Down in the gutter with Marshall.”

  “Okay, but we’ll keep it in the back of our minds. Sort of a Plan B if he doesn’t take the hint.”

  “Deal.”

  The ride to Marshall’s was spent in silence. Adam grew more nervous with every passing mile. He’d heard his father complain of getting the yips in golf and knew that was exactly what was wrong with him. Once you started worrying about it, you made it happen. The only thing to do, his father claimed, was make some type of change. It didn’t matter what, just change something.

  Three blocks from Marshall’s house, he stopped the car and reached for his phone. He glanced over at Ruben, embarrassed, but kept dialing. When Jillian answered, he started immediately, not allowing time for him to change his mind or her to hang up.

  “I need you to do me a favor. We’re about to approach Marshall, and I have a problem.”

  “What is it?”

  He tried to place her voice. It wasn’t welcoming, but it wasn’t angry. Cautious, he decided. “I can’t concentrate. I keep looking for something to break and fall on me. I’m not saying I believe any of this, but I need to know Heather is busy somewhere else. Can you keep her occupied for an hour?”

  “That would mean I had to talk to her, something I’ve been avoiding the last few days.” She sighed. “Fine, I’ll do it. Give me fifteen minutes.”

  He hung up, put his phone away, and looked at his watch, but avoided looking at Ruben. Neither one said a word for the fifteen minutes. Finally, Adam squared his shoulders and started the engine.

  Jillian slammed the palm of her hand against the steering wheel. Adam didn’t understand how draining it was for her to talk with Heather. She covered herself with bug spray and headed for the park. On the way, she’d stopped at Dairy Queen and bought a banana split.

  “All right, Heather, I’m here. Shall we get this over with?” The cicadas stopped singing when she spoke, but started again immediately.

  “Is that a banana split? God, that looks good. I haven’t seen one of those in years. I used to love them. Mama always bought me one on the way home from pageants as a treat if I did a good job. I don’t suppose you’d let me have a bite?”

  “You really think I’m a fool, don’t you? Get this straight. I’m not letting you in. I’ll never let you in. You can’t have my body for an hour or an instant.” She took a big bite of the banana split, licking hot fudge from her lips.

  “You’re such a bitch, Jillie. And you used to be a sweet little girl.”

  “If I am, I learned it from you. Now, can we get down to business?” The ice cream was starting to soften and a string of chocolate hung off the spoon.

  Heather crossed her arms impatiently. “I don’t know what business we have. You’re mean and selfish and won’t do anything to help me.”

  “Your story’s so sad I could just cry, except for the part where you lied to me for all those years. Give it up. Admit it won’t work and move on. Go join Mom and Dad. They’re probably waiting for you.”

  Heather sat on the table next to Jillian, smoothing out her skirt. She wore a low-cut, bejeweled sundress and ankle-strap heels. Jillian didn’t know what the outfit would have cost if it had actually been purchased in a store, but she was willing to bet it was more than she cleared in a month. Heather was almost-living proof that expensive and cheap weren’t contradictory.

  “Well then, you are a fool if that’s what you think. I’ll never give up. You robbed me of a life. I never got to have anything——no prom, no sweetheart, no adventures. I never even learned to drive, or had a grown-up kiss. I want to experience those things. If you won’t give them to me, then I’ll have to share yours.”

  “No, you won’t. My life is mine. I’m not sharing. I didn’t rob you of anything. You did it to yourself.”

  “Of course you did.” Heather stood and shook her finger at Jillian. “You were told not to get out of bed. If you had stayed where you belonged, it wouldn’t have happened.”

  “You were told never to touch the gun. If you had behaved, it wouldn’t have happened.” Jillian sat the half-eaten banana split on the table beside her.

  “I’m sorry your life got cut short, Heather, really I am, but the part you did have was good. Mother took you all over the state to those pageants and spent time teaching you to sing and dance. She hardly looked at me once she realized I couldn’t carry a tune and was chubby.”

  “You could have done it if you wanted to. I would have helped you. It would have been fun. But you were too stubborn to do something you knew meant so much to me and to Mama.”

  Heather sat again, but left more space between them. “You’ll have to get used to it, Jillie. You’re the one who can see me. You’re the one who can hear me. You’re the one who’s going to have to live with me. I’m not going anywhere. I’m staying right here to live your life with you, and there’s nothing you can do about it. If you want to try not speaking to me, go ahead. You know how well that’s worked for your friends in the past. No, I’ll be here forever. When you die, my face will be the last thing you see. Then I’ll start keeping your kids company.” Jillian was so angry she didn’t trust herself to speak.

  “In fact, we should spend even more time together. I think you should move out of that apartment and come home. We could be roommates. We could watch TV and do things together. As a matter of fact, I think you should sell that business. Then we could be together all the time. You could buy a little dress shop, and I would help you run it. I’d be great at picking out inventory.”

  Jillian groaned. With the trashy clothes Heather would pick out they’d be bankrupt in six months.

  “While we’re talking about the changes you need to make, I don’t like that boyfriend of yours. He’s a smart-ass. Get rid of him. I like it better when you go for the big stupid kind that don’t ask questions. Your other choice is to give up and let me in. I’ll take good care of your body, I promise. I’ve already started checking on doctors who remove tattoos.”

  That was the final straw. Jillian didn’t know if she would have called Adam a boyfriend, and she wasn’t sure he was even a friend now. She was certain that whatever happened, it wasn’t going to be Heather’s decision. She picked up the remains of the banana split and threw it at Heather. It sailed through her face and landed on the grass behind her. “You want it so much, here, take it.” She took her purse and swung it through Heather, first one direction and then the other. She kept swinging until her arm was tired.

  Heather looked shocked and tried to move out of the way. She clearly didn’t like the sensation. Jillian knew Heather went to The Galleria at night after it closed to look in the windows and study the fashions. Heather claimed she didn’t like to go in the daytime because people passed right through her. Jillian always assumed she didn’t like to be ignored, but maybe she could actually feel it, and the sensation was unpleasant.

  This was something new. But was it anything she could use? She had to find a way to get rid of Heather. It was her only hope.

  Adam knocked on Marshall’s door while Ruben stood to the side. He held the folder with the records and photos, but wasn’t visible through the peep-hole. Marshall would feel less threatened if he thought only one person was at his door.

  The porch light came on and Marshall opened the door to the width of the chain. “Well, if it isn’t the famous Toe Jamb Campbell. Are you lost?”

  “I’ve got a problem I need some help with Calvin.” He us
ed Marshall’s first name so it would seem more like a personal visit and put Marshall at ease. If Marshall refused to let them in, it would make everything more difficult.

  “Could I come in and talk with you about it? I hate to disturb you. I hope it won’t get you in trouble with the wife.”

  “It’s only me,” he said, closing the door slightly as he took the chain off. “Been that way for almost two years now.”

  From the looks of things, Marshall hadn’t vacuumed or washed a dish in all that time.

  “Sorry to hear that. I didn’t know.” Adam stepped in and Ruben followed close on his heels.

  Marshall was suddenly more guarded. “What is this? Why is Poncho Grande here? He’s supposed to be on sick leave.” The alcohol on Marshall’s breath was strong enough to strip varnish. Marshall must have been drunk to use that nickname in front of Ruben or Adam. Most men wouldn’t use it if either of the detectives were in the building, maybe the city. Adam decided to ignore the insult in the interest of the case. Ruben must have felt the same way because he didn’t say anything, although Adam could feel waves of anger radiating off his body.

  “I told you, Ruben and I have a problem we need to talk to you about. Let’s go sit down where I can show you something.” He didn’t wait for Marshall, but pushed through to the kitchen table. Without stopping to look around, Adam knew the place was a dump. The dirty dishes only told half the story. The empty bottles told the other half.

  “Our problem has to do with a Luger P 08 that was turned in for demolition eighteen months ago, but was used in two homicides over the past few months.”