He knocked again—more insistently. “Open the goddamn door,” he said.
She heard him kick the door. She flinched. “Go away, Sheriff.”
“Are you okay in there?”
“I’m fine. Just get the hell out of my bar.”
“You’ll let me know if you need anything?” he asked.
“I need you to leave,” she said. She only hoped he didn’t hear the weakness in her voice.
She heard his footsteps retreating. She waited another five minutes and then slowly opened the door. She took a deep breath and peered out to see if the coast was clear. She took a tentative step out, looking around. She let out her breath and relaxed her shoulders. Her hands still shook, so she clasped them together.
The bar, sparsely occupied before, was now vacant of any patrons. She walked to the register, intent on checking the cash. It would be just her luck for someone to rip her off on top of everything else. She was surprised to find well over one hundred dollars in various denominations sitting on top of the register. If Sheriff Waldrip’s display of outrage had indeed frightened off her customers, they weren’t taking any chances by stiffing her on their tabs.
“Hey, beautiful.”
She looked up from the register and into her husband’s eyes, and then quickly back down at the register.
She tried to smile. “Hey, Mark.”
He bent down to look in her eyes. “What’s wrong?”
She shook her head. “Nothing. I’m okay.”
He lifted her chin. As he did, the bruise around her neck caught his eye. “What’s this?” he asked, running his finger along her neck, tracing the outline of the handprints.
She pulled her head away while she shrugged. “One of my customers got a little rough.”
“What! Which customer?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
She walked away from the register and began picking up stray glasses from various tables.
He followed her, taking hold of her upper arm and turning her toward him. “I asked which customer.”
“And I said it didn’t matter,” she spat. Then she broke down and cried.
He pulled her close and stroked her hair as he whispered in her ear, “Who was it, baby?” Then his lips went to her neck, kissing the welts. “Tell me.”
She started to cry again, and the tears stung the welts. She managed to choke out, “Sheriff Waldrip.”
Ten minutes later, they were sitting in front of Charlie Renton swearing out a complaint against the sheriff.
After they’d left, Charlie stared at the phone for ten minutes. He hadn’t wanted to go this far above the sheriff’s head but hell, did he have a choice? The mayor and city council hadn’t listened to him. All they’d done was transfer him as if Charlie were the problem. Oh sure, they’d taken away the sheriff’s badge, but they gave it right back. Well, what did he have to lose? He’d soon be in Vegas, and none of this would be his problem. Why not stir things up a little before he went? Shaking his head, he picked up the receiver and dialed a number he never thought he’d have to call.
“Attorney General’s office,” a young, perky voice with no cares in the world said, “how may I help you on this fine day?”
Charlie cleared his throat. “This is Charlie Renton, the second-in-command at the Layton County Sheriff’s office.”
“What can I do for you?” the still-perky voice said.
“I need to file a complaint.”
“Is that right? Against whom?” Suddenly, the voice wasn’t quite as perky.
“Our sheriff,” Charlie said.
The once perky voice was now still. After several seconds, she said. “I’m sorry to hear that. I’ll get someone for you right away.”
After about fifteen seconds sitting on hold, Charlie almost lost his nerve and hung up. Finally, someone answered the phone, and Charlie began telling the investigator all about the abusive behavior of Sheriff Waldrip.
***
Peter barely made it home without sideswiping several cars. The first thing he noticed when he pulled into the driveway was Brenda’s car missing. Already reeling from his encounter with that twit of a bartender, his anger skyrocketed. “Damn you, Brenda. I told you to get your ass home.”
He parked his car, staggered to the front door and stepped inside.
Expecting to smell stale food and booze, he was surprised when the scent of lemons hit his nostrils. He inhaled deeply. He smiled to himself when he realized she had been there.
He walked into the kitchen and saw that the sink was empty of dirty dishes, the coffee pot was clean, and all the counters sparkled. “Now that’s more like it.”
He walked into the living room, saw the shiny furniture and knew why the scent of lemons filled the room. She must have gone shopping to restock the pantry. Perhaps she’s planning something special for her homecoming dinner, maybe one of her amazing chocolate cakes, he thought. He hoped he was correct.
Walking down the hallway, he paused by Lacy’s bedroom door. He pushed it open and for the first time noted all the things missing. She must have been sneaking in while I was out slaving away to put food on the table, he thought. Oh well, she’ll be home soon, and so will all her things.
He entered his bedroom and stopped short, shocked. The place looked as though someone had ransacked it. He picked up one of his dresser drawers and began shoving his things back inside. He put the drawer back where it belonged and began picking more things up.
He saw the dirty clothes hamper sitting in the middle of the room. This puzzled him because it belonged in the bathroom. He moved it back where it belonged, noting the bathroom had been cleaned. He smiled. Whatever had caused the chaos in the bedroom had not extended to this room.
He turned on the shower and stripped naked, looked at himself in the mirror and grinned. “Just enough time for a shower before my love gets home.”
He showered, toweled himself dry, and pulled on his robe. He opened the medicine chest, reached for his deodorant and froze. He moved things aside—too far aside. There was too much room in the cabinet. He closed the cabinet and ran to the dresser, pulling open the drawers that housed Brenda’s things. They were empty. Panting with exertion, his heart thumping wildly, he raced to the closet, flung open the door and stepped inside. He stared blankly at the empty closet rod.
“You little bitch!”
He dressed hurriedly, pulling his shirt over his head as he ran for the front door. He grabbed his keys off the hook just beside the door and rushed outside. He still had one leg out of the car when he turned the key, igniting the engine. He roared out of the driveway, tires spinning on the gravel.
***
Angela and Lacy were sitting at her dining room table, laughing over some teen scene magazine that Lacy had found in the bathroom at school. They sipped cocoa and ate cookies.
Lacy was pointing out some funky shoes one of the models was wearing when they heard the loud bang on the front door. They both jumped and let out a scream.
“Open up in there,” Peter screamed as he banged incessantly. “I know you’re in there, Brenda. Open this door or I’ll break it down.”
Lacy looked at Angela, fear extinguishing the joyous laughter of a few moments before. “He’s really angry,” Lacy said.
Angela nodded as she arose from the table and crossed to the front door. “Go away, Sheriff Waldrip. There’s a restraining order against you. You’re in violation.”
“I don’t give a damn about your restraining order, you horse’s ass!” he shouted back. “I want my wife and daughter, and I want them now!”
“Go home,” Angela persisted. “I don’t want to have you arrested, but I will.”
He banged again. The door vibrated, threatening to give way. Angela snapped her fingers at the phone. Lacy jumped from her chair and ran to pick it up. She carried it to Angela, thrusting it into her hand.
Angela dialed 9-1-1.
“Nine-one-one, what is your emergency?”
�
��This is Angela Martin. I’m the social worker assigned guardianship over Lacy Waldrip. The judge issued a restraining order against Sheriff Waldrip, and he’s here trying to break down my door.”
“I’ll send an officer right out.”
The 9-1-1 dispatcher recited Angela’s address, which Angela affirmed before hanging up.
The banging continued.
“I’ve called the police, Sheriff.”
He laughed and banged harder. “I am the police, you stupid-ass cunt.”
“Despite what you think, Sheriff, you can’t make your own laws, and you can’t keep using your family as punching bags. And calling me names isn’t going to make things any better.”
He laughed. “Aw, what’s the matter with wittle Angie? Did I hurt your feelings?” He smacked the door so loudly that Angela jumped. “I want my wife. Send her out, or I swear I’ll break down this goddamned door.”
“She isn’t even here.”
“Where is she?”
“I don’t know.”
“Like hell you don’t.”
“Sheriff Waldrip. You need to leave. Your wife isn’t here.”
“Send my daughter out.”
“I’m not going to do that.”
The banging stopped, and he grew silent. Angela looked at Lacy and shrugged.
“Maybe he left,” Lacy whispered.
They heard murmured voices, and then a knock. “It’s Officer Renton, Ms. Martin. Will you please open the door?”
She hesitated for a moment, then turned the deadbolt and slowly opened the door, peering out from behind it, half expecting the sheriff to coming rushing through. When it became apparent that he wouldn’t, she opened it the rest of the way.
Lacy looked at her father, standing on the doorstep, trembling with anger, and her heart began to race. Torn by emotion, she didn’t know whether to fear him or pity him. “Daddy, please don’t make this any harder than it already is.”
He glared at her. Although he had sobered, for the most part, his eyes still held that glassy stare of a drunk. “Just go away, Daddy,” she whispered.
“I just wanted to let you know that I’m taking the sheriff with me,” Charlie said. “We’ll let him cool off down at the station for a while, and then go from there.”
“I don’t care where you take him as long as it’s away from here.”
Charlie nodded. “Come on, Sheriff.”
Charlie led him away. To Angela’s surprise, he went willingly. As he rounded the corner of the building, though, he turned and looked at Angela—his glare icy-cold and threatening.
Lacy collapsed on the couch. Angela closed and bolted the door, and then she sat down next to her. She picked up her hand and squeezed it. “Are you okay?”
She nodded. “My heart’s still a little jumpy.” She looked seriously at her. “This is nothing new to me. I have walked on eggshells for most of my life. Believe it or not, I’ve seen my father much angrier than this.” She lowered her voice. “I’ve felt his anger even more.”
Angela touched her back. “I’m sorry, Lacy. I wish I could have helped sooner.”
“It’s not your fault, but I appreciate the sentiment.” Tears welled up. “You know what I mean?”
Angela brightened. “Do you want to catch a movie?”
Lacy shook her head. “I’m late for my shift.”
“Call in. I’ll vouch for you. You need a little fun.”
“I need a little money,” Lacy said. She waved her arm around the apartment. “This is all really nice of you, but Mom and I can’t stay here forever. If we’re going to get our own place, we’re going to need money.”
Angela slumped her shoulders, cocked her head sideways while she frowned. “Lacy, you’re a kid, act like one. You should be out having fun. Don’t you ever go out with friends?”
She shook her head, shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly. “I don’t have friends. Besides Jake, that is.”
“When do I get to meet Jake?”
“He’s shy.”
Angela raised her eyebrows. “He’ll get past it. Invite him to dinner.”
“I’ll ask. Now, I really have to get going.” She softened at the hurt look on Angela’s face and then rolled her eyes. “I’ll ask Jake, and I’ll take a rain check on the movie.” She smiled sweetly, begging for Angela’s understanding.
Angela sighed. “Oh, all right. I’m going to drive you to work.”
Lacy didn’t protest. She knew it was pointless. Besides, with her father so angry, she didn’t want to run the risk of him following her. She grabbed her bag, and they dashed out the door.
Angela pulled up to the curb in front of the diner. “What time do you get off?”
“Nine.”
“Okay. I’ll be here then.”
Lacy opened her mouth to protest but shut it at the last minute. Instead, she nodded agreement. She started to shut the door when Angela shouted, “Hey!”
She leaned in. “What?”
“I’m going grocery shopping—any special requests?”
Lacy grinned. “Can I have anything I want?”
“As long as it’s in one of the four basic food groups.”
She spoke quickly, “Mint chocolate chip ice cream. It’s in the dairy group.” She slammed the door and jogged into the diner before Angela could contradict her. Angela chuckled as she pulled away from the curb.
The diner was busy, making Lacy feel guilty for being late. She grabbed an apron and began tying it around her waist. She spoke to her boss through the cutout window over the grill. “Sorry, I’m late, Ray.”
“Problems with your dad?”
No one could ask for a nicer boss to work for than Ray. He knew something of Lacy’s home problems—it was, after all, difficult to hide a face full of bruises. He was always tolerant of Lacy’s frequent tardiness, knowing that she always was willing to stay late if he needed her to.
“Yeah, but it’s under control.”
He knew better than to push her. She shared very little of her life with others. If she felt like talking, she knew where to find him. He placed an order on the counter. “This order’s for your friend Millie and her friends.”
Lacy followed his gaze and groaned. She looked around, incredibly disappointed they hadn’t all disappeared in the last five seconds, and hoping Sue would take the table for her.
Ray shook his head. “Sue called in sick. It’s just you, kiddo.”
She nodded and sighed as she picked up the order and carried it to the table. She placed the food down in front of Millie. “Hi, Millie,” she said.
Millie smiled as if there were no strings of tension between them. “Oh hey, Lacy, there you are. I’ve been waiting for you. I was beginning to think you weren’t coming.” She stood and gave Lacy a cursory hug. She turned back toward her friends. “Do you know Alex and Brittney?”
They scowled at her and gave her a somewhat audible, “Hey,” then snickered to each other.
Millie blushed.
“I have to get back to work,” Lacy said.
Millie looked relieved, but as Lacy walked away, she saw her scolding her friends.
Tears pooled in her eyes and she wiped them away—no time for self-pity. The strangest thing was she couldn’t even remember when she and Millie had split.
“I’ll be right back,” she called to Ray. “I need to get ketchup from the store room.”
He nodded, whistled a tune as he flipped some burgers. How she wished she could be as carefree as he was. She thought back to earlier. She had been having fun with Angela, until her father had come along and spoiled it. She had even liked the idea of going to the movies with her.
In the storeroom, she located the box of ketchup. It hadn’t been opened yet, so she took out her pocketknife, snapped open the blade, and slid it under one of the flaps. As the blade slid along the surface, it slipped and nicked her finger. She cried out in pain, and then sat on one of the boxes, wrapped her apron around the digit to catch the blood, and cri
ed. It really hadn’t hurt that much, but her wounded pride had made her vulnerable.
“Here, let me have a look.”
She let Jake take her finger in his hand. He examined it. “Barely a scratch,” he reported.
She leaned against him, taking her finger back. “You make it all better, Jake.”
“You shouldn’t let her get to you so much.”
“It’s not that. I don’t blame her for finding new friends. Who wants to be friends with a big loser?”
“You are not a loser.”
She sighed. “I’m glad you came.”
“You seemed like you needed a friend.”
“It doesn’t seem like it’s getting any easier.”
“Any more thoughts of flying from the cliff?” She sat silent. Jake prodded her with his elbow. “Well?”
“I dream of it.”
“I see. What happens in your dream?”
“It’s just like that day out on the cliff, only in my dream I actually jump. I’m falling, and a big wind catches me. I spread my arms wide and I’m flying like Peter Pan, but I go up, and it’s so beautiful I can’t wait to see where I’m going.”
“It sounds nice.”
“Yeah,” she said.
She sat up, held up the ketchup. “Well, I guess I’d better get this back out there. Ray will be wondering where I ran off to. Will you wait for me here?”
He shook his head. “I’ll be around if you need me.”
She smiled at him and carried the can of ketchup to the front counter. Mille and her friends were standing at the register, ready to pay for their meals. Millie pretended that she couldn’t tell Lacy had been crying. “So…I’ll see you at school tomorrow?” she asked.
“Most likely,” Lacy said. She tried to smile as a good sport should, but it was difficult.
They walked out the door without a backward glance.
Lacy stared after them until Ray put his arm around her shoulder. “They aren’t worth a second thought.”
She smiled at him. “I can’t believe she’d dump me like that after we’ve been friends for so many years.”
“I never liked her,” Ray said, trying to pacify her.
“It’s okay, Ray. You can still like her. She’s not that bad.”
Lacy's End Page 20