Dreams in the Dark (Destroyers Book 2)

by A. R. Case

  “Yes. He has a long-term project. They’re expanding a subdivision on the north side of the city. He says it will make him three million dollars. I didn’t know that much money existed for us normal folks.”

  It doesn’t. For some reason, my mind flashed to something Indy said about only criminals and users got money. Some are just good at being both. Those are the really rich ones.

  She took my silence as an answer. What my answer was, I don’t know, but knowing her, it was probably me being in awe.

  “So, I let him have the number. He’s got the means to help, and your father and I are on a fixed income. As much as I wished I could come down and be there for you, it’s not really possible. Plus, you’re always so proud, you never want us to step in. I understand.”

  Her tone didn’t convince me she did understand. I swallowed my pride once. When my eyes opened up, I saw how much it hurt them to see me fail. That was never going to happen again.

  “Mom, remember how I told you not to give Eddie my number?”

  “Of course, but these are extenuating circumstances. I told him where you said you’d be staying.”

  “You what?”

  “He said he’d drop by with food, and some clothes.”

  Oh Mom. Why?

  “Mom, I need to call my new landlord, and Betty Jo. Call you later.” I hung up on her.

  First call was Snake. “Hi,”

  “Hey.”

  “Do you have any way you could put a restraining order on someone to keep them off your property if you’ve never met them?”

  “What is this about?”

  “Mom gave my ex this address.”

  He sighed. “I’ll call Walt, we’ll get a prospect to come over.”

  “Wait!” But it was too late, he had hung up on me.

  I called Betty Jo, and told her both conversations.

  “I’ll be right over.”

  And she was, with her shotgun, and a box. How she managed to keep the shotgun steady tucked under one arm, while both hands were on the box, I don’t know. I just know she’s scary when carrying.

  She set the contents of the box in the kitchen. It was a blender and daiquiri mix plus accoutrements. While I adore margaritas, daiquiris aren’t my favorite. But these were Betty Jo’s.

  “It’s a Sunday.” Observation seemed to be order of the day.

  Her raised eyebrow answered me. I sighed. “Do you think Snake would be mad if I painted the bedroom?”

  “I don’t think so. Not sure he much cares what happens to this place as long as he doesn’t have to come over.”

  Huh.

  “I’ll go get paint then.” I looked at the time. Of course, Edie the clueless had struck. It was after seven, the stores were probably closed, or closing. “Never mind.”

  A knock at the front door sounded.

  A bit of history about this place. Absolutely no one I’d ever met used the front door of this place. They all came in the side door, and sometimes there were parties on the back lawn. That’s how I knew it was Eddie. “Eddie’s out front.”

  Betty Jo got the shotgun and still beat me to the door.

  “Who the fuck are you?” She said, shotgun casually draped over one arm. Eddie’s face was shocked for approximately two seconds as his eyes travelled from her painted eyebrows down to the dark grey, steel double barrel.

  “I’m uh, is Edie here?” He saw me, and his demeanor changed before my eyes. He put on the mask right in that second. “I heard about her loss, and brought her some things to help.”

  Oh gee, wasn’t that altruistic of him?

  Unfortunately, Betty Jo got sucked in. He produced flowers, roses, from the box.

  She let him in. He turned on the charm, his eyes moving from me to her triple D boobs.

  Looking in on the play, my head made up all sorts of subtext. Betty Jo emptied the box, praising Eddie in his choices.

  There was even a nightgown. I shuddered. The anger came back. “Betty Jo?” In my head, I kept repeating, “ignore him, don’t feed the troll.”

  “Isn’t this nice of him? You don’t have to dip into your savings for clothes while you wait for the insurance to come through.”

  How to word this so I didn’t anger him or acknowledge his generosity? “Betty Jo, I’m tired. Would you make certain the house is secure so I can be alone?”

  “I can stay.” Eddie offered.

  “No.” Damn it. And Hell no. I crossed my arms.

  Betty Jo glanced at me. It was unlike me to be that firm, or that rude.

  It might have broken the spell. Or, it was Snake showing up at the front door.

  “Prospect is set up.” He glanced at Eddie, then Betty Jo, but kept most of his attention on me.

  “Thank you.” I turned to Eddie. “Leave.”

  “Aw Ed-Ed, don’t be rude. I’m just trying to help.”

  My mind answered with a string of accusations, but externally I lied. “I want to be alone. Leave.”

  Snake picked up on my tension. “Leave.”

  Betty Jo made apologies. But he left.

  “What was that?” She asked.

  Snake huffed, but stayed silent.

  “That,” I answered, “Was the classic Hoover maneuver.”

  Snake laughed. I heard him mutter the two last words under his breath, then chuckle again.

  “Hoover…?” Betty Jo couldn’t bring it upon herself to do the rhyme.

  “Suck you back in like a vacuum.”

  “Oh.” Her face changed. “I don’t like that man.”

  No shit.

  That night, daiquiris tasted good.

  Chapter 14: Paint

  Indy

  High desert isn’t desert, at least not like you think it is. Not as much sand, and a fuck ton more wind. I was beat up, and ass sore by the time I made the continental divide. It was late in Maryland, but I called Edie anyways.

  “Indy!” Her voice was so good to hear. I’d gotten her message. Ignored it for the most part. I was trying to make as much time as I could, but weather and a head wind was kicking my ass.

  “Baby.” It felt so good to slip into that place. It was the same whether we were lying skin to skin or hundreds of miles away. “How are you doing?”

  “I’m okay, I guess.”

  “Talk to me.” She did, relaying her day. I stopped her when she got the part about Eddie.

  “He stopped by.”

  Her sigh was audible. “Yes. Thank God Snake showed up when he did. Betty Jo got sucked in.”

  I grunted. It was just a little bit surprising. I mean, the woman had a good radar. She hated me, which proved it worked well. “Prospects taking rotation?”

  “Even when I leave, I guess.”

  “Good.”

  She was quiet.

  I asked, “You doing okay with this?”

  “What? Oh, of course. It makes me feel a lot better to have them watching my back like that. It’s just …”

  “Just what?”

  “He’ll go dormant, and wait for a better time. In the meantime, those guys are out there for nothing.”

  That got me thinking about the possibilities. “He’ll probably try to follow you. Catch you somewhere he can get you alone.”

  “You think so?” She didn’t sound surprised.

  “That’s what I’d do if I was a psycho bastard.”

  “Indy.” The reproach was there, and it wasn’t so much teasing this time.

  “Woman. You know I think about those things. Ever since he popped back into the picture, I’ve been doing my homework.”

  She laughed. “I guess you’re right.”

  The wheels were still turning. He’d want to catch her in public, so she wouldn’t make a scene, or so he could. Eddie was the type that needed an audience. “You got any plans?”

  “I want to paint this place.”

  I laughed. Of course, she would. And, it would be amazing. “See if Fin or the prospect can come with you when you go shopping. I think the house
would be okay locked up. If he burns this one down, Snake’s insured. Moreover, it would give him a reason to kill him.”

  “You did not just say that.”

  Yes I did, on an unsecured phone. And I meant every damn word of it. “Kidding baby, Snake’s smarter than that.”

  He’s also one of those who I think are incapable of murder. At least over property. Now, mess with something he cared about, and all bets would be off. Thing is, Snake didn’t have stuff like that, so it wasn’t an issue.

  “I hope so.” Her voice sounded defeated.

  “Baby.” I came so very close to saying something. I didn’t want to regret it, or the circumstances, so scrambled to think of something else. “You can’t give up.”

  “I’m not giving up. I just …”

  “I’m listening.” I was, with every fiber of my being.

  “I need a place.”

  She did. I could picture it. Strangely, it was the cabin, but better. She didn’t need more than what she had, but I needed her to have it just a bit better. “A soft place.” That came out from somewhere under the rubble of my guts.

  “Exactly.”

  “You’re that place for me.” It was as close as I could get to the truth without committing.

  “Oh sweetheart.”

  “I know.” I did know what she was saying. And I figured she knew what I was saying. When I got there, I would show her.

  Edie

  Monday, I decided I loved my insurance company. They transferred money directly into my account. I paid Snake for a month of rent, and a second month, just to have that extra sense of security in my own head. Then I took the prospect to Home Depot. He grumbled. Said something about not liking the place.

  I let him go over to the Petco while I got lost in the racks. My cart had five different colors of paint, the right supplies, except brushes. None of this was for me, yet I was still checking each offering. House paint brushes feel, and smell different.

  “Ed-Ed?”

  My eyes shut. Hell. He followed me. I ignored him.

  “Hey, Edie, I’m talking to you.”

  He grabbed my arm.

  I twisted it, and brought my hand up and sharply back down, and yelled, “Let go of me!”

  That got attention, not the good kind either.

  The mask went in place, “Edie, dear, you’re overreacting.” He hissed it, then smiled and nodded at the passersby who saw him roll his eyes at the over emotional female, and the oh-so-rational male. I was in Betty Jo’s clothes that didn’t fit, but they were better than wearing the same clothes from Saturday. On my list went laundry detergent and dryer sheets. They were here in the cleaning supplies section. And, if I could just get rid of Eddie, I’d pick them up. It would be so much better than Betty Jo’s handed down leggings and oversized T-shirt with “PMS: Parked Motorcycle Syndrome” silk-screened on it.

  My anger slipped into a cold place. “It is you who are interrupting my day. Go back to your shopping and leave me alone.”

  There, rational, calm, direct. Good Edie.

  “Sweetheart, I can help you.” His voice slipped into that sticky place I used to think was cute. Fly paper is sticky, too.

  “I do not need your help.” My jaw was clenched again.

  “Yes, you do, look at you.”

  I waited. He didn’t disappoint.

  “You’re a mess. What happened to the clothes I bought you?”

  “They are back in the box. If you would like them back, I will gladly give them back.”

  “I don’t want them back, I want you back on your feet.”

  No, he didn’t. He wanted me beholden to him. He wanted me to be cut off from all other assistance, and then he would start phase two. “You have no obligation to help me. Now go away.”

  “You are so stupid. I don’t know how you’ve survived so long without me.”

  There it was, he was getting angry. I moved the cart closer to the paint mixing counter which was manned. Eddie blocked my path. I turned it around and went to the kitchen cabinets counter. The lady there looked scared. Eddie pulled my cart sideways. “Stop. Jesus. You are acting crazy.”

  “Oh, it is crazy for a woman to not want her ex-husband stalking her through Home Depot?” I said it loud enough that not only the woman at the counter heard, but the vested worker on the forklift heard. He stopped what he was doing, and got off of it.

  “Ma’am, is everything okay?”

  I took a deep breath, but Eddie beat me to it. “Everything is fine, my wife is just having one of those moods, you know how it is.”

  The breath I’d been holding let go. As did something inside. “Sir? This man is my ex-husband. He followed me here and I do not feel safe. Please call your manager, and security. I will wait here until they come.”

  “Edie, don’t make a scene.”

  I crossed my arms and moved behind the counter, leaving my cart in the aisle and making the woman behind the counter stand up. She glanced between Eddie, her co-worker, and me. Then something changed. I saw it on her face. I recognized it. The same anger that lived in me.

  “Jerome, call the cops. She doesn’t feel safe. Do it.” Then she moved between me and Eddie.

  Wisely, Eddie retreated. “Fine, you deal with her crazy. You know she burned her house down, don’t you?”

  His parting shot scattered, but struck at least one target. “Did your house burn down?” The man named Jerome asked.

  “He burned it down.”

  The cops were called. In the wait, I remembered the prospect and called him so he could disappear. Then there was a lot of explaining to do as to why I felt it necessary to involve the police. I showed them my arm, where Eddie’s red fingerprints still glowed.

  Because of this, I spent the afternoon at the police station, trying to file a report, and then a restraining order.

  What I got in response was an “I’m sorry no one saw him grab your arm. Are you certain you aren’t blowing this out of proportion? And the restraining order? No, we don’t do that here. You need to go to the courthouse.”

  By the time I got there, they were closed. Frustrated, and still with no paint, I returned to Home Depot and picked up the items I’d put on hold. Most of it was restocked. It took me another hour.

  After, I picked up Chinese and took my time at the restaurant to eat, knowing that there was a small chance that there would be a new, fresh hell waiting at the house. For this moment, with crab rangoons, and hot tea, I had peace. I soaked it in.

  Tomorrow I’d paint.

  It was frustrating. My fingers itched for something to do. I dug out my notebook and put art supplies on my list.

  One, more, little thing. New clothes. Damn Eddie for getting in my head.

  Indy

  I parked my bike in front of my motel door. I was somewhere in Southern Illinois. I don’t think I made it to Indiana yet. The Mississippi River looked good at sunset, but the twisty roads were shit in the dark. I tucked in, and tried not to crawl out of my skin. I was closer to her. That compass pointing east was working overtime. I’d pushed it today, and everything hurt. My hands were numb. So was my ass.

  The only thing I could do was call my girl.

  “Hey baby.” She was chewing something.

  “What ‘cha eating?”

  “Oh, sorry… hang on.” There was silence for a few seconds. “Chinese.”

  “Hummmm… Orange Chicken.” My stomach rumbled thinking about it. There was a Denny’s across the parking lot. If I stayed awake long enough, I’d grab something, but it wouldn’t be nearly as good as real Chinese food.

  “Crab rangoons and shrimp fried rice.”

  “Sounds just about as good.”

  “Did you eat today?”

  “Somewhere in Kansas, I think. Maybe Missouri.”

  “Where are you now?”

  “Don’t know. Illinois.”

  “Are you being careful?”

  “No. Need to get home.” I said.

  “Baby.”
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  “I know. Go ahead and nag me. I’m beat. At least it will put me to sleep.”

  She laughed. “You are so terrible. It’s endearing.”

  I faked a snore.

  “Indy!”

  It was my turn to laugh. “Got ya.” I stretched out, switching the crisscross of my ankles. My boots were still on, and if I fell asleep without taking them off, I’d pay for it tomorrow. But honestly, I was too wiped out to care. “I am missing you something fierce.”

  “Me too.” There was a clink of plates, and some talk in the background.

  “Tell me something good.” I said.

  “I got my insurance check already.”

  “That is really good. What else?” My eyes were closed. How the hell did that happen?

  “You called.” She was so sweet.

  “You are the sweetest woman in the world. I make top two on your list.” My eyes opened. “Wait a minute, I make top two? What did that asshole do now?”

  “How do you do that?” she asked.

  “Do what?”

  “Know exactly what happened, and I never even said a word.”

  “You’re eating Chinese, which meant you haven’t gone to the store, and, since you’re in a restaurant it means you’re still running around. That means you’re avoiding going home. That means, something happened.”

  “You certain I’m in a restaurant?”

  “Dim sum doesn’t come up in conversations around Fin and Betty Jo.”

  “You are scary.”

  Always. “Tell me something I don’t know.”

  She sighed. “I’m not certain I can do that.”

  “Okay, tell me what the asshole did, and I’ll get pissed and we’ll fight, then you can make it up to me by trying phone sex again. You were pretty damn drunk the last time.”

  “What if I need you to make up to me?” Her voice got husky.

  Oh, now she was getting there. “Sweetheart,” I drawled. “I’m laying on a bed in a motel room. Unbuckling the belt you made me. You with me on this?”

  Her crunching on a rangoon answered, then, “Go on …”

  Hell, this was going to be fun. I got up and took off my boots, then for real, unbuckled my belt. “Listen.” I let the boots, then the belt, drop to the floor. “Those were my boots and my belt. Here goes my zipper.” I held the phone down there, but needed two hands, so propped it up on my leg, hoping that the soft noise made it through. I picked it up again, “If you were here, I’d put you on your knees, baby.”