by SUE FINEMAN
Callie carried her suitcase and tote bag down the hallway toward the back of the building. She opened the screen door and motioned to her little boy. “Come on, Brady. Bo doesn’t know about you, so you’ll have to be real quiet.”
They walked up the back stairs. The door to the room across from the stairs stood open. She glanced around at the worn furniture, messy bed, dirty clothes piled in the corner, and an old recliner by the window. A pair of wire-framed glasses sat on a stack of books beside the lamp. This must be Bo’s room.
Nine doors opened off the long hallway that ran from the back of the building to the front. Glass French doors at the other end of the hallway stood wide open. Walking down the hallway, she stopped in front of each door. Most were furnished bedrooms, and none were locked. She found a laundry and shelves of linen behind one door, and one room had a hole in the wall. That must be where Bo found the baby’s bones.
She walked to the front of the building before hearing footsteps on the back stairs. “Brady, come in here, quick.” Ducking into the room behind her son, she closed and locked the door. “Shh. Be real quiet.”
Callie dug in her tote bag. “Take off your shoes and crawl on top of the bed, honey.” She handed him a coloring book and a box of crayons, and prayed it would keep him quiet until she found a way to tell Bo she had a child with her.
“Are we gonna stay here, Mama?”
“I hope so, honey. I surely do hope so.”
<>
Bo showed the two officers where he’d found the baby’s bones and sat through an interview with a homicide detective.
“Mr. Gregory, how long have you owned the building?”
“My brother and I bought it four years ago, as a business investment. We’d planned to make a few improvements and then sell it, but my sister-in-law suggested turning it into a nightclub and restaurant. We were cutting into the wall to put in French doors when I found the baby.”
The detective looked around. “How old is this place?”
“The original two-story hotel was built in 1910. Years later, someone added onto the sides of the main floor, turned the right half into a restaurant, and the left front corner into a bar. At some point, someone renovated the downstairs and added bathrooms upstairs. It sat empty for several years before we bought it.”
Greg wanted to open the business to give Bo something to do, a profession he could handle with his injuries. But Bo didn’t have the personality or the patience for schmoozing with customers in the restaurant or listening to the troubles of drunken patrons in the bar.
The police left after five, and Bo’s stomach growled. He hadn’t eaten since breakfast. Skeeter had left some of his chili in the freezer, but Bo’s stomach couldn’t take that kind of abuse today.
He walked into the bar for a bottle of beer and heard a toilet flush upstairs. Callie. What in the hell was he doing, inviting that kind of trouble? The last thing he needed was an angry husband showing up here, especially one who liked to beat on people. With his shattered elbow, Bo wasn’t sure he could defend her or himself without a weapon of some kind, and he wasn’t about to start carrying a gun around.
He opened his beer and downed half the bottle. He hadn’t done any grocery shopping lately. Did he have anything here to eat?
Callie walked into the bar. She’d washed her face and combed her hair, and she was barefoot, making herself at home in his home. “Bo, would you like me to make us some supper?”
“You don’t have to cook for me, Callie.”
“I can’t pay for my room, and I’d like to earn my keep while I’m here.”
He nodded. “Okay, see what you can find to eat.”
Minutes later, Bo’s nose led him to the kitchen. He’d envisioned a dinner of canned soup and crackers, because there wasn’t much else in the kitchen, but this didn’t smell like soup.
“Bo, I hope an omelet is okay for supper. Your refrigerator is nearly empty.”
“I know.” He opened the refrigerator. “Milk, juice, tea?”
“Milk, please. I love milk. Daddy said I was a baby who never grew up, but Mama said it was good for my skin.” She sighed and flipped the omelet. “They’re both gone now, bless their hearts.”
He poured two glasses of milk and set them on the table, wondering how it would mix with the beer he’d just drained.
After he finished eating, Bo pushed his plate back and rubbed his elbow. Damn thing hurt like a toothache tonight.
“Did you hurt your elbow today, Bo?”
“Aggravated an old injury.”
She smiled and teased Bo. “War wound?”
“Actually, it was. Some idiot bombed a street filled with kids when I was in Iraq. Skeeter and I were handing out candy my family sent. Three of the kids died that day. One little boy lost his leg, but he still held that damn candy bar in his hand. He couldn’t have been more than five or six years old.” He couldn’t look at a kid that age without remembering.
“I lost the hearing in my left ear and shattered my elbow, so they put me back together the best they could, gave me a lot of meaningless counseling, and told me to take a hike.” Nightmares about Iraq still haunted him, and he still blamed himself for what happened to those kids. All the counseling in the world wouldn’t erase that from his conscience.
“Skeeter and I served in the same unit, shared a hospital room, and went to rehab together.” Skeeter still had headaches and probably always would, but he was a good friend. They’d been to hell and back together.
“They booted you out?”
“What good is a Marine who can’t hear someone sneaking up on him?”
Callie pushed her plate back, leaned one elbow on the table, and rested her head on her hand. “Did they use metal plates?”
“Yeah.” His lips curled in a smile. “Drives people crazy when I go through a metal detector.”
“Have you tried—”
He held up his hand. “I’ve tried damn near everything.”
“I’ll bet my granny could have done something for you.” She laughed a little. “Granny had her own methods of doctoring, and none of them included treatment approved by the AMA.” She stood and picked up their dirty dishes, her smile warm and wistful. “She was more like a witch doctor, fixing everybody’s ailments as if she actually knew what she was doing, but the funny thing was, she always made people feel better. Sometimes I think all folks really need is someone to care.” She waved her hand. “Oh, I don’t mean Granny treated serious illnesses, but she did all right with minor ailments, and the old folks in Caledonia County thought the world of her.”
“Is that where you’re from?”
After a few seconds of uncomfortable silence, Bo said, “You can talk to me, Callie.”
“Um, I lived in Caledonia County when I was a little girl, on my granddaddy’s ranch.”
“In Texas?”
“It doesn’t matter now, Bo. I don’t live there anymore.”
Callie didn’t want Bo to go checking up on her or Tommy Ray would surely find her again. That warrant wouldn’t mean spit if her husband got his hands on her. She’d never make it to the jailhouse.
“I’ll clean up, Bo.”
He said she could stay, but she wanted to earn her keep, and she needed to find something to take upstairs for Brady to eat. That little fast food hamburger she’d bought him down the street wouldn’t hold him until morning.
“I’m going upstairs to shower.”
Callie watched Bo walk toward the door. What would he do when he found out about Brady? She couldn’t keep a seven-year-old boy hidden forever.
She’d make him a good breakfast in the morning and tell him then, after he’d eaten.
She made a sandwich for Brady and took it up the front stairs with a glass of milk. “Stay in the room and be real quiet, baby. We don’t want Bo to know you’re here.”
“But I want to go outside and play.”
“I know, honey. Maybe tomorrow.” Poor kid. He’d been cooped up on a bus
for such a long time. She didn’t blame him for wanting to play outside, but she couldn’t risk Bo seeing him. Not yet.
Bo seemed like a kind man, and Skeeter said she could trust him, but right now, she couldn’t trust anyone. If she had enough money, she’d change her name and appearance and take Brady to Canada or Mexico, where Tommy Ray couldn’t find them, but she only had forty-two dollars left. Until she earned enough money to move on, she and Brady needed a safe place to sleep. They’d have to stay here.
It took her over an hour to wash the dishes, scour the kitchen sink and stove, and scrub the dirty floor, but it looked good when she finished. The refrigerator would need attention, too. There were green things in there that weren’t supposed to be green. She’d take care of that tomorrow morning, when she fixed breakfast.
Callie walked toward the stairs, turning out lights behind her and locking the doors. Upstairs, Bo’s bedroom door stood ajar. Sounds of light snoring came from inside, but a narrow band of light streaked into the hallway from his room. She quietly pushed the door open. Bo lay in his recliner, glasses perched on his nose, a book lying open on his chest. She stood in the doorway, watching him sleep. Wide shoulders covered with a wrinkled white T-shirt filled the upper part of the chair, and he wore blue running shorts. A big hand held the book in place on his chest, and his left elbow rested on a pillow. It must hurt a whole lot more than he’d let on. One long scar ran down his arm and through his elbow, and there were several smaller scars around it. His long, hairy legs were peppered with scars, too.
Even with the scars, Bo Gregory was far and away the most handsome man she’d ever seen. The cute little dimple in his chin softened his strong face. She fought the urge to run her fingers through his dark wavy hair, put him to bed, and kiss him goodnight.
She’d been starved for affection for so long, and Bo had been so kind, but she needed to keep her distance. If Tommy Ray found her with another man, he’d not only punish her, he’d take his rage out on the man.
Stepping quietly into the room, she straightened and turned down Bo’s bed, gathered the pile of dirty clothes from the floor, and turned out the light. As she walked out the door, she heard the chair squeak. “Goodnight, Bo,” she said softly, and pulled the door closed behind her.
A minute or two later, as she took sheets from the linen closet, Bo appeared in the doorway, barefoot and rumpled, his gray eyes half closed, and his hair mussed as if he’d forgotten to comb it after his shower.
“You turned down my bed.” He said the words so softly she barely heard them. “No one has done that for me in years.”
She lifted her chin and smiled. “Do you want me to tuck you in?”
He hesitated for a few seconds, his gray eyes darkening and scanning her body. She felt her face warm under his smoky gaze. “I...I didn’t mean...”
His lips curled in a smile and he laughed softly, a deep, sexy sound. “The last woman I had in this brothel was more cooperative.”
He was teasing, wasn’t he?
With another heavy-lidded, slow scan of her body, he said, “Goodnight, Callie.”
“Goodnight, Bo. Sweet dreams.”
“Oh, they will be. They most definitely will be.”
Hugging the sheets, she watched him walk away. Mercy me. He was something, so handsome he made her heart flutter. The last man she fell for was Chet Zachary, and she didn’t dare make that kind of mistake again.
Besides, she was still a married woman.
And her husband wanted her dead.
Chapter Two
Callie woke before dawn and found her son already dressed and ready to go outside and play. “Mama, what are we having for breakfast?”
“I don’t know yet, honey.” If she wanted to feed herself and her son, she’d have to walk down to the grocery store. Aside from a little milk and juice, Bo’s refrigerator didn’t have much in it that was fit to eat; and if she didn’t get Brady some fresh air, he’d never stay quiet in the room today.
Five minutes later, Callie took Brady’s hand and walked quietly down the front stairs and out the front door. On a summer morning at home, it would already be warm outside. Not so here in Washington. The cool air felt more like early spring as they walked down the street toward the grocery store she’d seen near the fast food restaurant. Streetlights flicked off as the sun peeked over the horizon.
Brady jumped and ran around like a colt frolicking in the freshness of dawn. Or a little boy who’d been cooped up too long. He needed to run off some of that energy, but she kept a close eye on him.
Down the street, she saw the big sign for the grocery store. Brady ran ahead and sat on the horse ride outside the door. They both knew she didn’t have the extra money for a ride, and he didn’t ask. She’d always had to account to Tommy Ray for every penny she spent, and he didn’t believe in spending money on fun.
She bought a few things and they started their walk back to The Brothel. Chirping birds lifted her spirits. She loved mornings, and this promised to be a wonderful day.
Brady ate a bowl of cereal in Bo’s kitchen and then she took him upstairs and made him promise to stay in the room with the door locked until she returned. She’d have to tell Bo soon, but not yet. She needed a little more time.
<>
The sun came up early in the summer, and light poured through the dusty window. Bo lay in bed languishing in the half-sleep of a man not anxious to begin the day. He and Greg should finish that door to the balcony today, but they couldn’t do anything until the police finished poking around. As if they’d find anything after this long.
He dressed and slipped downstairs to the kitchen. Steam rose from a pot on the stove and Callie was bent over, scrubbing the shelves of the refrigerator. Her faded shorts strained over her cute little behind.
She pulled out a covered dish he’d put in there at least two weeks ago and her face screwed up. “Ugh! What is this supposed to be?”
“Garbage. Throw it away, including the dish.”
She glanced over her shoulder and gave him a warm smile. “Good morning. When is the last time you cleaned out the refrigerator?”
He put his hand on his chest. “You mean I’m supposed to clean it out?”
She rolled her eyes and took the lid off the pot to stir the contents.
“What’s that?”
“Grits, and I made sausage gravy and biscuits. I hope that’s okay. We had eggs for supper last night.”
Grits, sausage gravy, biscuits? He didn’t even know he was hungry until he smelled breakfast cooking. Having Callie around definitely had its advantages.
She poured him a cup of coffee and pulled the biscuits out of the oven. By the time he’d finished his first cup of coffee, she’d put breakfast on the table. He slathered strawberry jam on a biscuit and took a bite. “Mmm, Callie, I think I love you.”
“Mama used to say the way to a man’s heart was through his stomach.”
He ladled gravy on his grits and took a bite. “Mmm, this is good. Are you trying to get to my heart?”
She poured the orange juice. “I’m trying to earn my room and board, and that means keeping you well fed and happy.”
How far would she go to keep him happy?
“Is there anything special you want me to do today, Bo?”
He shoveled in two more bites before answering with a question. “What did you have in mind?”
“I thought I’d clean upstairs, after I finish the refrigerator, that is.” She gestured toward the refrigerator with her fork. “Did you know there are things growing in there?”
He felt the corner of his mouth tug into a smile. “I’ll take your word for it.” He helped himself to more grits and gravy. “You didn’t get this from my refrigerator, did you?”
“Lord, no. I walked down to the grocery store. I would have bought more, but I couldn’t carry much. My shoulder is still kinda sore from—”
“You walked?” The nearest grocery store was at least a mile away, and it was only six-thir
ty in the morning. She must have been up before dawn.
“Well, I would have taken the bus, but it doesn’t come down this street. I found that out yesterday.”
“We’ll go shopping later. The cupboards are empty.”
“Okay. I’ll start a list.”
Bo carried the dirty dishes to the sink. He stared at the clean sink and polished surface of the stainless steel stove. He noticed his feet no longer stuck to the floor. He’d put all his time and energy the past few weeks into the renovations and let the daily chores slide by, including the cleaning and shopping.
He might keep this woman around awhile.
<>
Greg arrived around nine, and the two men worked on the balcony while Callie cleaned upstairs. Bo let out a loud yelp and Callie came on the run. “What’s wrong? Is it your arm?”
Greg threw down his hammer. “Go take a pain pill. We’re done for the day.”
“No, I’m done for the day. I put in two hours before you showed up.”
Callie propped her hands on her hips and took charge of the situation. “Greg, show me what to do and I’ll fill in for Bo until he can work again. Bo, go take a hot shower. It’ll make your arm feel better. I’ll massage it after your shower.”
She pounded nails, sawed boards, and sanded woodwork right along with Greg. Maybe if she worked hard enough, Bo wouldn’t mind having Brady here.
She needed to check on Brady before he got bored or got himself into something he shouldn’t be into. He was a good kid, but seven-year-old boys didn’t like being cooped up or keeping quiet.
Greg stood and stretched. “Break time.”
Callie brushed off her hands. “I’ll make tuna sandwiches, if that’s all right.”
“Sounds good to me.”
Minutes later, while Greg and Bo sat in the kitchen talking about building renovations, she slipped away and took half her sandwich upstairs for Brady.
“Mama, can I go outside and play?”