Mudcat

by John Quick

  He threw the door open, a harsh and more than likely obscene rebuke on the tip of his tongue, and discovered that it wasn’t some salesman or a Jehovah’s Witness at his door, but the assistant chief of police instead, looking irritated and miserable in the torrential downpour. He and Rob had crossed paths on more than one occasion, and while Jake had thus far managed to avoid any serious fallout from it, he knew that Rob Pinkston would love any excuse he could find to bust his balls. He wondered madly whether or not the last dregs of the pot he and Brandon had been working their way through was visible from the front door or not, then decided that it probably didn’t matter. If Pinkston wanted to fuck with him, he’d find a reason.

  “Foley,” Rob said, looking him up and down. “Rough night?”

  “I didn’t do anything,” Jake said, ignoring the question. “What do you want?”

  “I’m actually not here for you,” Rob replied. “This time. Where’s Snyder?”

  “How the fuck should I know? I’m not his fucking daddy.”

  “You haven’t seen him?”

  “Just said that, didn’t I?”

  Rob nodded. “When’s the last time you did see him?”

  “Last night, I guess,” Jake said. His bladder constricted painfully, and he knew he needed to put an end to this faster than he originally thought. While pissing on a cop would be hilarious at first, he’d seriously regret it once he was locked up down in one of those pathetic excuses for a jail cell in the police station’s basement. “Why? What do you want with him?”

  “Annie Fordham didn’t come home last night,” Rob said. “Her pop’s pretty pissed off about it, as I’m sure you can imagine. You know anything about that?”

  “Why the hell would I know anything about what that bitch does?”

  Rob shrugged. “I hear she’s been hanging out with your roommate lately. Figure maybe he finally managed to get in her pants, might want to be here where they could be comfortable or something.”

  Jake shook his head. “Fuck no. Last time he brought that little tease by here, he left her while he went on a beer run. My girlfriend shows up, sees her here, assumes the worst, and fucked up my car over it. I told him she stays the hell away from here, period.”

  “That so?” Rob asked. He glanced over to where Jake’s Camaro sat on its rims in the driveway, just visible through the rain. Rob nodded, and then turned back to him. “Any idea where they might’ve gone?”

  “Not a fucking clue,” Jake said. “I know he’s got some place out by the lake off one of the old service roads where he takes girls to fuck sometimes, but I don’t know how to get there, or even exactly where it is. He wouldn’t tell me.”

  “Fair enough,” Rob said. He started to leave, and then looked back at Jake. “He shows up or you hear anything from him, you tell him he needs to get in touch as soon as he can. If he’s lucky, Fordham won’t slap a statutory rape charge on him, and I won’t have to search the place and find more than just those stems and seeds you’ve got laying around on the coffee table in there.”

  Jake fought the urge to react to that. “And if you see him, tell the motherfucker that I want my damn rent money or he can keep his ass away from here. I don’t need his kind of trouble anymore.”

  The hint of a smile crossed Rob’s face. “That may be the smartest thing you’ve ever said, Foley. I’m sure I’ll see you around.”

  Jake waited until he saw the man get into his truck and back down the driveway before slamming the door shut and racing for the bathroom. He could feel the first hints of wetness at the front of his boxers, and for a moment was terrified that he was about to piss his pants for the first time since he was a kid. He made it—just barely—and actually moaned as he finally began to relieve himself properly. It seemed to take forever, but once he was finished he felt like he could actually think a little clearer than before.

  A part of him was thankful that it was Brandon who was in trouble for a change. It wasn’t that he was any more of a decent person than Jake, but somehow he always managed to avoid the fallout whenever shit went sideways. It had been that way since they were younger, too. When someone called in after they had a particularly spectacular round of mailbox baseball one night, it was Jake’s description that the cops ended up with, not Brandon’s, even though he’d been the one actually holding the damned bat. Same thing when they’d been peeping in on Leanne Holstead from the diner one night. Brandon had ended up with a nice view of her stripping down for her shower, but when it was Jake’s turn, he’d ended up staring down the barrel of a twelve-gauge shotgun instead. Leanne had taken the time to throw on a robe first, so he didn’t even get to see anything. Worse, while he stood there ready to shit himself from fright, waiting for the cops to show up, Brandon had run for the woods and disappeared. Once again, he’d taken the sole rap for something they’d both done. The fact that no one had pressed any charges against him gave him no satisfaction at all. He never snitched—that would make him more of a shit than the rest of the town already thought he was—but it still would’ve been nice to have Brandon take his share of the blame, too.

  This time, though, it looked like Brandon was going to have to take all the blame. It was definitely a nice change of pace.

  The more he thought about it, the more he realized he’d meant what he told Pinkston. He was done with Brandon’s bullshit. Friendship was supposed to be a two-way street, and he’d had none of it from that asshole. He’d just been used time and time again. He was beyond due for a break. Maybe without Brandon’s influence he could even manage to get his life back on track again. Maybe he could get a decent job, and quit drinking and getting high all the damn time. And while she’d acted psycho when she slashed his tires, Carrie had actually been one of the best girlfriends he could remember having. Maybe he could even patch things up with her while he was at it, start living a real life for a change instead of the miserable excuse for an existence he was currently muddling through.

  Changing the way the town looked at him would be an uphill battle, but if he was willing to try, he might just be able to pull it off. After all, people changed their lot in life all the time. Why should he be any different?

  But that was for another time. Right now, he needed a cigarette, and the only way he was going to get one would be to get dressed and hike his ass down to the convenience store on the main drag through town. He’d be soaked to the bones by the time he made it there and back again, but maybe even that would be a good thing. He could use how pissed off he’d be as incentive to hold onto his newfound conviction.

  And if Brandon was here when he got back, well, maybe he’d just call Pinkston himself and let him know where to find the man he was looking for. Give him a head start on winning folks back over again. Plus, he could have the satisfaction of kicking Brandon in the ass as he was hauled off to jail.

  It was a beautiful thought on a nasty day.

  CHAPTER THREE

  The breakfast rush should be about to end, but considering how badly it was raining out, there really hadn’t been much of one to start with. While Leanne found that a relief in some ways, since Chet had called and told her he wasn’t going to make it in, and so she had to open the place as well, the lost opportunity for tips or even just revenue for the diner itself stung a bit. Still, it could’ve ended up being much, much worse. At least Mitch showed up to cook, meaning she didn’t have to try and do everything on her own. She was good, but she couldn’t be in multiple places at once. Waiting tables and tendering tickets was more than enough multi-tasking for one day. Chet’s wife, Gail, who acted more like the real owner of the place than her husband did most times, promised to be in around noon to help with the lunch rush—if they had one—so all she had to do was make it through a couple more hours of boredom and then she’d be sailing on easy street.

  Of course, knowing her luck, Rachel wouldn’t come in for her shift tonight, which would have her pulling a double yet again. Normally she didn’t mind so much, since business was gen
erally steady and the tips good enough to make the long hours worth her while, but if this morning was anything to go by, she’d be good and pissed off by the time the place closed at ten tonight.

  For now, she just wished she’d brought along a magazine or a book or something to help occupy her time while she waited for people to show up. Conversation with Mitch was out; he had been wandering around outside in the rain, catching stupid cartoon characters through some game on his phone for the last half hour, and was now in the bathroom cursing about how wet he was. She could almost understand it if he was one of the immature high school kids Chet hired to help out around the place on the cheap, but he was twenty-seven years old, just ten years younger than she was, so he should damn well know better. There was no way a game was worth getting soaked in that rainstorm. That he seemed to think otherwise gave her very little hope about the future of the human race.

  It also made her quite thankful she’d resisted his attempts to sleep with her. He was cute enough, but sometimes that just wasn’t enough. Besides, he seemed like he might be the clingy type, and that definitely wasn’t something she was willing to deal with.

  She looked up to see a truck pull into the small parking lot outside. While the rain was coming down too hard for her to make out any specifics, she was fairly sure it was Rob Pinkston’s Blazer. She hopped off the counter where she’d been perched—and for which Chet would have bawled her ass out had he seen it—and leaned into one of the booths next to the windows for a better view.

  Her initial guess had been correct. Rob was slamming the door and running toward the diner, jacket pulled closed in front of him in a vain attempt to stave off the inevitable drenching that would ensue from just the short distance to the diner’s entrance. She stood up straight and turned to face him just as the bell over the door jingled, signaling his arrival.

  “Jesus Christ,” he breathed, shaking his short hair to try and get some of the water out of it. The motion reminded Leanne of what her dog back home might do after being out in the same weather. For some reason, though, it actually looked a bit appealing on the assistant chief, like it made him appear younger and more innocent somehow.

  “You’re crazier than I thought you were,” she said. “Nobody in their right mind would be out in that mess.”

  “You won’t get any argument from me,” Rob agreed. He peeled off his jacket and hung it next to the entrance, thoughtfully containing any drippage to that one spot. “Temperature feels like it’s dropped fifteen degrees from last night, too. Think I could trouble you for some coffee to warm me back up again?”

  She could think of something else he could trouble her for to warm up, but with Mitch still wandering around somewhere, she held back. It didn’t stop her from putting a little extra wiggle into her step as she made her way around behind the counter, though, nor did it stop the rush of heat in her groin once she caught sight of him watching in the mirror over in the corner.

  If Mitch was the exact opposite of what she wanted in a long-term relationship, Rob was a prime specimen of her perfect man. He was attractive, self-sufficient, and wasn’t content with just eking out an existence somewhere. He wanted to be better than he was, and was actively taking the steps to see that happen. At the same time, he had a good sense of humor and didn’t take himself too seriously. The only real problem she could see was that he was too much of a damned gentleman. They’d been flirting back and forth for the last five years, and he had yet to actually make a real move on her. By the same token, her pride dictated that she wait for him to be the one instead of doing so herself.

  Stupid, maybe, and counter to nearly everything her mama had taught her growing up about being an independent woman, but she just couldn’t help it. If all she wanted from him was sex, she’d have already made her intentions clear. Since she couldn’t help but think about something more lasting with him, she held back. It wasn’t that she was afraid of doing it; she was just afraid that if he turned her down, she’d be more devastated than she cared to admit.

  She poured the coffee and sat it on the counter in front of him. He threw one leg over the stool like an old cowboy mounting a horse, and smiled up at her before adding a little sugar and taking his first sip.

  “So what’s got you out and about in that mess today?” Leanne asked. “I figured you’d be holed up in the chief’s office, trying to reconfigure the ass-print in his chair to yours.”

  “That was on the agenda for this afternoon,” he replied. “Only it’s not looking like I’ll get back to the office by then.”

  He paused, taking another sip of his coffee, and then looked up at her. “You wouldn’t happen to have seen Annie Fordham or Brandon Snyder come by here this morning, would you? Or maybe last night before you closed?”

  Leanne shook her head slowly, trying to remember when the last time she’d seen either one of them was. “No, I think they came in Friday night around dinnertime, but I don’t think I’ve seen them since then. Why, is something going on with those two?”

  Rob sighed, but the look on his face said he’d expected as much. “Mark Fordham called in this morning, said Annie didn’t come home last night. I stopped by Snyder’s house, but Foley said he hadn’t seen them either.”

  Leanne snorted disdainfully. “You sure that pervert wasn’t lying to you?”

  Rob shrugged. “Could be, but I don’t think so. Snyder’s car wasn’t there, and Foley seemed pretty ticked off at him for pulling the vanishing act, too. Even said I should tell Snyder he was getting kicked out once he did show back up, if I saw him first. If he was lying, he was doing a damn good job of it.”

  She opened her mouth to respond just as the phone rang. She turned her head and didn’t see Mitch anywhere in the kitchen. He was probably still in the bathroom, griping about getting wet after he went out in the rain. She rolled her eyes and held up a finger, indicating that Rob should hold that thought, and answered the phone.

  “Leanne, where’s Mitch?”

  She somehow managed to resist telling Chet that he’d know damn well where his cook was if he’d bothered to come to work today. “He’s around here somewhere. You want me to get him for you?”

  “Yeah, please,” came the reply. At least he knew his manners. Sort of.

  Leanne set the phone down on the counter and stuck her head through the little door that led back to the kitchen area. “Mitch! Quit primping and get out here! Chet’s on the phone for you!”

  There came a noise from the back that sounded like a small stampede, and then she finally saw Mitch dart across the room to the extension in Chet’s little office.

  “Got it!” he yelled back.

  She rolled her eyes again and hung the phone back up, then turned her attention back to Rob. “So what now?”

  He blinked at her, and then nodded as he remembered their previous conversation. He must have a lot on his mind to forget that quickly, but she figured that only made sense, his first day running the police force instead of just being a part of it.

  “I’m honestly out of ideas for now,” he said. “With that storm, it’s going to make searching for them a hell of a lot harder. Foley said something about some service road down by the lake where Snyder sometimes took his girlfriends, but there’s at least a dozen of those. Searching them all would take a while, even in good conditions, which today definitely isn’t. Much as I hate to say it, I might need to just hold off and see if they turn up on their own. Mark won’t be happy about it, but there’s really not much more I can do until I get more folks in to help me with it.”

  “Where’s Steph and Andy?”

  He shrugged. “Running late because of the rain, apparently. They might be at the station by now, but I didn’t see either of their cruisers when I came here, so who knows? They may end up being my next missing persons before the day’s out.”

  Leanne put her hand on top of one of his and offered him a sympathetic smile. “Poor baby. I’m sure they’ll all turn up sooner or later, safe and sound.” />
  He returned the smile and gave her hand a little squeeze before pulling away and reaching for his wallet. “What do I owe you for the coffee?”

  “On the house,” she said. “Call it a congratulations gift on your big day.”

  He chuckled at that. “Some big day. Not even on the job four hours yet and I’ve already lost four people. But thank you.”

  For the briefest instant, their eyes locked and Leanne thought that the time had finally come when he would make a move. Before anything further could materialize, Mitch burst through the door and ruined the moment.

  “What a bunch of horseshit!” he exclaimed.

  Rob simply raised an eyebrow at him, but Leanne turned a furious glare his direction. “What’s a bunch of horseshit?”

  “Fuckin’ Chet,” he said. “Said he wants to try some of that farm to table bullshit you see on TV. Wants to serve some fresh fish for a special tomorrow night, try and get people to come out in the rain to try it. Said he’ll be by here in an hour or so to drop Gail off and pick me up.”

  “Does that prick really expect me and Gail to handle the entire dinner rush by ourselves?”

  Mitch shrugged. “Said we probably won’t be busy tonight on account of the storm. It’s my fault. I fucked up and told him how dead it was all morning.”

  “You’re usually one of the first to come get your fishing license once the season’s open,” Rob said. “It sounds like you’re getting paid to do what you love anyway, so what’s the problem?”

  Mitch looked at him as if that was the stupidest thing he’d heard all day. “Have you seen that rain out there? I’ll be drenched within the first five minutes!”

  It was Rob’s turn to shrug at him. “I’ve always heard they bite better when it’s raining.”

  “What do you care, anyway?” Leanne asked. “You were just out there in it playing some stupid game.”

  “That was different,” Mitch whined. “I wanted to do that. Chet won’t even share his beer, he’ll just bring a couple of poles and some bait for me to use.”