Skeletons in the Mist (The McCall Twins)

by Jennifer Hayden

  He shrugged his shoulders. “It is. When we were little, Trace started calling me Chas and it stuck.”

  “Is Trace his real name?” She didn’t know why she was getting so nosy with him but she couldn’t help herself. He interested her, whether she wanted him to or not. She chalked it up to the fact that he was a twin, just as she had been at one time.

  “His real name is Alexander Tracy, if you can believe that one. My parents had some interesting ideas.” He grinned and took a long sip of coffee before speaking again. “I started calling him Trace about the same time he started calling me Chas, because I couldn’t say Alexander.”

  “Let me guess,” she said, finding herself enjoying the story. “It stuck.”

  “It did,” he replied, still smiling. “It’s a good thing he started calling me Chas. Otherwise we would have been Chase and Trace.”

  Roxy found herself laughing at that.

  “You had a twin. You were both R’s. You know how it goes with the twin thing…” The words died on his lips and he immediately gave her a regretful look. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think before I…” He grew silent again.

  This conversation was not taking a good turn. She forced herself to shrug her shoulders. “It’s okay. It’s been a long time.” She took her cup over to the coffee pot and re-filled it. “Shouldn’t we be heading to the city to see my brothers?”

  “We’ll get on the road in a minute. I like to finish my first cup of coffee before I brave traffic like early morning rush hour in Spokane.”

  “It has to be better than Seattle.”

  “It is, a little.”

  “Did you get a hold of the public defender who will be taking Devon’s case?” she asked, when the silence became uncomfortable.

  “I did. Scott Briggs is someone I went to school with. He’s a decent attorney. I still recommend getting your own representation.” He watched her closely. “It’s possible you could receive some money from your aunt’s estate, once things are sorted out. There’s the house and any stocks or bonds she had. That could add up to a sizeable amount. It’s likely that there’s a life insurance policy too.”

  “Who knows how long it will take to free up money like that? The house will have to be sold and the estate sorted out. Insurance companies love red tape. That kind of thing could take months. I don’t have that kind of time. Your friend will have to do.”

  Chas looked as though he wanted to argue, but instead, shrugged his shoulders. “If that’s what you want.”

  “Of course it’s not. I have no other choices. Besides, if this man is your friend, why would you recommend I find someone else?”

  “I didn’t say he was my friend, I said I went to school with him. And as I said before, he’s a public defender. He has a pretty hefty case load and he doesn’t turn anyone down. He’s paid a flat rate by the county and it ain’t much. His office distributes cases amongst its inhabitants, those of which have no requirement other than that they pass the Bar. It’s just not the same as interviewing and hiring someone yourself—someone you know has plenty of experience in the type of law you’re looking for.”

  “Forgive me for being obtuse, but we don’t know that Devon even did this, Detective. I think I’ll talk to him before I make any rash decisions.”

  “For the last time, call me Chas. And if he didn’t do it, that’s all the more reason to get him good representation.” He reached for his jacket and slipped it on.

  “Where are we going besides the jail?”

  “We’ll meet with Briggs and Devon and then we’ll be heading over to Social Services. You do want to see Dylan, don’t you?”

  She hadn’t thought far enough ahead for that. “Of course I do.”

  “Good. I’ll give the social worker assigned to his case a call. I have her card in my truck. He’s already in foster care. Are you prepared to do something about that?”

  She set her coffee cup in the sink before turning and looking at him. “Like taking him home with me, you mean?”

  “More or less. I suggest you meet with him a few times first.”

  “Why?”

  “Because he doesn’t know you. Unlike Devon, he was far too little when you were around to remember you. Has that fact crossed your mind?”

  “I’m his sister. He’ll be happy to see me.” At least she hoped he would. The truth was, she had been so worried about Devon that she hadn’t given much thought about what she would do with Dylan’s immediate situation.

  “Listen, Roxy, I think you should give the kid a chance to get to know you.” He adjusted the strap to his shoulder holster, then took one last gulp of coffee. “You may bite off way more than you can chew if you don’t.”

  “Can you speak plain English here? I’m having a hard time connecting the dots. You called me because you wanted me to come here and handle my brother’s care. You told me last night that I am now his guardian.” She gave him an even stare. “I did hear you right, didn’t I? I mean isn’t that the whole reason I came here?”

  “He’s twelve. He’s scared and traumatized. You are a stranger to him.”

  “And this foster family isn’t?”

  “More or less. But they’re a temporary fix. He’s smart enough to know that. I just think you should be careful, that’s all. I can tell you from what I know about him, just from the time I’ve spent reprimanding him at the station, that he’s a resourceful, mischievous and troublesome kid. He’s smart and he’ll know how to get to you. You’re not a parent so you won’t see that.”

  “And you are?”

  He folded his arms over his chest arrogantly. “I handled my sister well, didn’t I?”

  “Maybe. But the two situations are hardly similar. Dylan will know that I’m here to help him. So will Devon. I’m all they have.”

  “Okay. I can see you’re going to go about this your own way. That’s your prerogative.”

  “It is,” she agreed defiantly.

  “So are you ready?”

  “I’ll get my bags. I assume you’ve figured out what to do with me tonight?” She shot him a nasty stare and he grinned in return.

  “I’ll let you know when I do. You may spend another night in my bed.”

  “In your dreams,” she snapped, trying to sound self-assured when she was dying inside. She wasn’t used to guys like this one. He was the most arrogant egomaniac she’d ever met.

  “You have the wrong impression of me,” he said, after watching her for a moment. “But I’ll let that go for now.”

  “I think I have exactly the right impression of you.”

  “We’ll see,” was all he said.

  SIX

  Nothing ever went off without a hitch, Chas figured, as he watched the road in front of him. The normally thirty minute drive from Cavern Creek to Spokane was taking more like an hour. There had been several pockets of road construction, and then he’d had to pull over to answer a call. Trace wanted to know what he had planned today. When he’d told his brother he was with Roxy Tavish, he’d received a whistle in response. Then Trace had given Chas a friendly piece of brotherly advice, as he’d called it. The advice consisted of five words: don’t fuck up this case.

  Chas would have to have a more in depth discussion with his twin when he got back to town. Obviously his brother had the wrong idea. He wasn’t quite sure why. He hadn’t given off any signals that indicated he was interested in Roxy Tavish in any way other than professionally.

  Had he?

  “Are you going to tell me what your brother called about? It was obvious from your responses that the conversation had something to do with my brothers—with me.” Her voice interrupted his thoughts and he looked over at her. She’d taken the time to pile those curls of hers loosely on top of her head in some sort of top knot. It looked good, he decided, but he liked it better down.

  He frowned when he realized he had no right to an opinion about her hair.

  “What?” she asked again, now sounding agitated. “Why are you looking at
me like that?”

  “Like what?” He turned back to the road.

  “Like you’re the spider and I’m the fly.”

  “I did not look at you that way. You’re being dramatic.”

  She raised her brow.

  “My brother is working on questioning witnesses and that sort of thing. We just like to be in sync when we’re working on a case, that’s all.”

  “That’s not the way it sounded to me.”

  “How did it sound to you?” he asked, almost afraid to hear her answer. He inwardly cursed the speakers on cell phones. They were far too loud.

  “It sounded to me like he was worried about something. What I want to know is what it is he’s worried about.”

  He didn’t look at her. Better to keep his eyes off her face, he decided.

  “Hello?”

  “Look, I can’t discuss official police business with you. It’s nothing for you to worry about. We check in with each other every day, multiple times, when we’re not together.”

  “You can’t discuss police business with me, even when it concerns me?”

  “It doesn’t concern you. Can you ease up?”

  “You’re cranky. You need more coffee.”

  “I am not cranky.”

  “You are. You’re obviously not a morning person.”

  “You’re judging me falsely again.”

  She leveled him with a glare. “Ever since you talked to your brother you’ve been a world class grouch. I didn’t ask you to drive me here, you know. If you have something else to do I can always call a cab.”

  “I said I would take you and that’s what I’m going to do.”

  “Fine.”

  “Fine.”

  They both stared straight ahead quietly for several seconds. He broke the silence first. He’d never been one for tension. “My brother didn’t call about anything to do with your case. Not officially anyway.”

  “Then what’s the big deal?”

  “There isn’t one.”

  “You could have fooled me.”

  “Just drop it, Roxy. I’m doing my job here, nothing more.”

  She gave him a skeptical look. “Are you saying your brother thinks you’re doing more than your job?” A flush crawled up her neck when he didn’t answer right away. “Oh God. He’s thinks you and I…that we’re…oh my God. We just met yesterday!”

  “He doesn’t think we’re sleeping together, if that’s what you’re worried about. He thinks I’m getting too personal, letting you stay at the house and all.” He grinned at the blush in her cheeks. “Don’t worry, you’re safe. You’re not my type.”

  She glared at him again, this time in defiance.

  “Don’t get all hot under the collar. I’m being honest with you. You did ask what Trace wanted.”

  “I thought he was calling about something important.”

  “So did I.”

  Her glare grew more intense as the ride went on. He’d pissed her off good this time. Oh well. Maybe now they could keep their distance.

  “Just for the record,” she finally said. “You’re not my type either.”

  “I didn’t think I was.” He rested his arm on the open window while he waited for an indication from the construction crew to go forward.

  “Sure you did,” she said on a snicker. “I’m sure there are very few women who wouldn’t find you to be their type.”

  He smiled at that. “I’m flattered.”

  “Don’t be. It wasn’t a compliment.”

  “Sounded like one to me.”

  She clenched her fists together and shut her eyes in aggravation. When they opened, they were no less angry. “You are the most conceited jerk I’ve ever met.”

  “There you go again, assuming that you know me.”

  “I know what I see, Chas McCall. I’ve never met a man who thinks so much of himself.”

  This was getting better by the minute, he thought to himself. She was furious now.

  “Do you think this is funny?” she asked angrily.

  “Do I think what is funny?” He put the truck back in gear and slowly crept past the construction site. “The fact that you get worked up so easily I barely have to breathe to piss you off? Or the fact that you’re so in to the way I look that you have yourself convinced I’m a world class jerk?”

  Her eyes grew wide and she let out a growl. “I am not in to the way you look!”

  He raised a brow. Big mistake. She swung at him, her tiny fist connecting with his right shoulder.

  “Good thing I’m a lefty,” he said, grinning from ear to ear. That only made her madder. She shut her mouth and folded her arms across her chest. She was silent for the rest of the ride. When they were only a few blocks from the Spokane Juvenile Correctional Facility, his cell phone rang and he was thankful for the noise.

  Scott Briggs was on the other end of the line.

  “No go. He doesn’t want me.”

  “What do you mean, he doesn’t want you?”

  “Just what I said, McCall. He said some rather nasty things, and fired me. He doesn’t want public assistance. And to be honest with you, I don’t want to be his public assistance. The kid’s a little bastard. And I mean a little bastard.”

  “He’s fourteen,” Chas said quietly. “What the hell are you listening to him for? Talk to his sister. We’re almost there.”

  “I have another appointment, McCall. You told me eight o’clock. It’s nearly nine. I have a practice to run you know.”

  “I’m driving into the parking lot right now. Just wait.” Chas disconnected the cell phone and turned the key off once they’d parked. “You’re brother’s not making things easy. Are you sure you want to do this?”

  “What choice do I have, Chas? He’s being difficult because he’s scared. I can reason with him.”

  Chas had his doubts, but kept them to himself. They both climbed out of the truck and headed for the large stone building. He greeted several of his colleagues, and then they were lead into an interrogation room. Immediately he recognized Scott Briggs.

  Tall, blond and lean, Briggs was the kind of guy who spent more hours in the sun than he did in the courthouse. He was a member of all the right clubs and all the right clicks. He was GQ material all the way from his Italian loafers to his Armani suit.

  He stood when Roxy came into the room, first shaking hands with Chas, and then her. “I apologize for my rudeness on the phone with Detective McCall earlier, Ms. Tavish. I think you should know what you’re getting into here though. Devon is not helping himself much at this point. He all but fired me.”

  “I realize that he’s being difficult. Surely you understand his circumstances are touchy. He’s afraid.”

  Briggs raised a brow and folded his arms over his chest. “Just when was the last time you saw your brother, Ms. Tavish?”

  Chas backed up and let Briggs have the floor.

  “I’ve been away,” Roxy hedged, looking to Chas and then back to Briggs, who was staring at her questioningly. “Ten years,” she finally admitted.

  “I see.” Briggs backed up to rest on a corner of the table. “Look, I’ll be honest with you here. I think the kid’s got some serious problems—drugs and alcohol being two of them. I would guess he’s had to go through some serious detox the last few days. He’s bitter and angry and volatile. Is that something you can deal with, after seeing him as a four-year-old innocent ten years ago?”

  Chas watched her shrink slightly. He waited for her response. He didn’t have to wait long.

  “Just why did you all bring me here?” She looked first at Briggs and then over at Chas. “It doesn’t appear to me that either of you want me to see my brother—either of my brothers. So why did you call me?”

  “Because we had to,” Chas said simply. “You’re the next of kin.”

  “So butt out and let me do what I came here to do. Where is he?” She looked at Briggs, determination in those big blue eyes.

  “They’re going to bring him in.
They were serving him breakfast when I left him last. I’ll check on his progress.” Briggs walked into the hallway, leaving Chas and Roxy alone.

  “For the record,” she said, the minute the door closed behind Briggs. “I see what you mean about hiring my own attorney.”

  Chas shrugged. “Scott’s not bad at what he does. He just doesn’t give a damn.”

  “He shouldn’t be defending a child for murder.”

  “No one should have to defend a child for murder,” he pointed out.

  The door opened again and Briggs returned. Behind him were two armed policemen. Chas watched Roxy’s face carefully as Devon Tavish sauntered into the room with them. His hands were cuffed in front of him. The orange jumpsuit he wore held the insignia of the Spokane Juvenile Correctional Facility.

  Roxy’s eyes filled with moisture immediately. For the first time in ten years, she was face to face with her brother. And it was clear that she had absolutely no idea what to say to him.

  SEVEN

  Roxy found the breath leaving her lungs the minute she laid her eyes on her younger brother. The face that was before her was completely unrecognizable. Of course there was an abundance of scraggly hair covering it. She wanted to reach forward and push it aside so she could really see him, but she didn’t. Instead, she rested her fingers against her mouth, afraid that anything she said would be wrong.

  When she’d left town ten years earlier, she remembered a small toddler, barely out of diapers, staring up at her with a look of confusion and sadness. His tiny thumb had been in his mouth and his blanket had been tucked in his free arm. He’d barely said goodbye. Instead he’d just stared at her with those sad, blue eyes. Those eyes weren’t sad anymore. They were angry.

  “Have a seat, Devon,” Chas said, apparently figuring out that Roxy couldn’t speak.

  “Don’t want to sit. I’ve sat enough.” The boy shook his head to flip the hair out of his eyes. “What the fuck do you want now? I fired him.” He gestured to Briggs with his eyes. “He’s a dick.”

  Briggs didn’t dignify that with a response. He just looked from Chas to Roxy with a look that said I told you so.