“Can we dig for information without risking that?”
“I don’t know.” I tapped my bottom lip and regarded Mike. “Just give me the basics on Melody, whatever is in that file you’ve got there. That’s at least something.”
“Sure.” Mike turned back to his screen. “Okay, for starters, she’s smoking hot.”
My lips twisted. “She’s not that hot.”
He ignored me. “She graduated from Michigan State University with a degree in women’s history.”
“Of course she did,” I muttered.
“What does that mean?” Rooster looked legitimately confused.
“That she went to college to snag a husband,” I answered.
“Which she did,” Mike said. “According to this, they met junior year, were engaged a month after graduation, and married a year later. Their wedding was covered by the Detroit Free Press because his father is some international banking bigwig.”
“So he has money,” I mused.
“He’s the king of money. There are photos of their house — it’s a mansion. It’s worth, like, two million if the property records are correct, and I have no reason to think they’re not.”
“Anything else about her?”
“Um ... the husband has various notations next to his name. They’ve been hunting for a mistress and have come up empty so far. Now they’re focusing on him being gay. They figure that’s the reason they can’t find a mistress.”
“They’re determined that he’s the culprit,” I said. “They’re not really looking for her.”
“That would be my guess.”
“That could be why her name didn’t pop on the property records,” Gunner mused. “They weren’t really trying to find her because they have tunnel vision on the husband.”
I agreed. “What about the property records up here, Mike?”
“They check out. But she didn’t inherit the house. She bought it from the bank four weeks ago. She got it cheap.”
“That’s because it’s falling apart.”
“Yeah, but the photos seem to indicate it will be awesome when she finishes restoration.”
“Yeah, that’s never going to happen.” I rolled my neck as I considered my options. “Anything else?”
“No, but I can keep digging. The cops really are focused on the husband, who has lawyered up but keeps holding weekly news conferences. Because he is who he is, the media keeps showing up, but the wife is no longer at the top of the news cycle.”
“They must believe she’s dead,” Rooster said. “They’re not looking for a missing woman. They’re looking for a dead body.”
“Yeah.” I rubbed my cheek. “Okay, keep digging. Don’t let it slip that she’s up here until we know what she’s doing.”
“That seems cruel to the husband,” Mike noted.
“Yeah, but it could get a lot crueler if we don’t play this right.”
“You’re the boss.” Mike hesitated before disconnecting. “You really should dump that guy and come back home. It’s boring here without you.”
Gunner scowled. “She is home.” He switched off the call and glared at me. “I hate that you encourage him.”
“I hardly think I was encouraging him,” I countered. “You need to chill out.”
“I agree.” Rooster sank into one of the chairs across from me. “Do you think Melody voluntarily went missing?”
“Yes. She’s far too into what’s happening here. If she was taken against her will she would be more reticent. Her access to money explains why the master was interested in her, but the other two are still a mystery.”
I tapped my fingers on the tabletop, lost in thought. My reverie was disturbed when the door flew open and Raisin stalked in. It wasn’t even noon, so the fact that she wasn’t in school was a giveaway that something had happened.
“I need help!” She wailed in dramatic teenager fashion.
I arched an eyebrow. “Aren’t you supposed to be in school?”
“Yes, she is.” Rooster looked furious. “What are you doing skipping school, young lady? I promised your grandmother that you hanging around with us wouldn’t turn into a negative. Now, here you are in the middle of the day, hanging out at a bar and skipping classes. I just ... are you trying to kill me?”
I had to fight off a smile as Raisin pinned him with an exasperated look.
“Oh, don’t be annoying,” she drawled, the arrogance that only youth could muster on full display. “It’s my free hour, and I just got this.” She held up what looked to be a frilly dress, something from a different era. “Do you know what this is?”
“Ugly?” Gunner volunteered helpfully.
The glare she shot him was withering. “This is my costume for the play, and you know what? It doesn’t fit. They say there’s nothing they can do about it because they don’t have the money.”
Oh, well, this sounded dire. “What do you mean it doesn’t fit?”
“It. Doesn’t. Fit.” Her tone was sarcastic. “I mean ... how many different ways am I supposed to say it?”
I held onto my temper, but only because she was kind of cute in the midst of her meltdown. “I mean is it too small or big?”
“Big.” She jutted out her lower lip. “The top has loads of room up here.” She held her hands in front of her chest and indicated breasts by flexing her fingers. “I’ll never have enough to fill it out.”
The fact that Rooster and Gunner looked decidedly uncomfortable with the direction the conversation had taken only served to further amuse me.
“Well, I have good news for you.” I stood, the problems of the day forgotten ... at least temporarily. “I can fix your dress.”
“You can?” Raisin looked suspicious.
She wasn’t the only one. “Yeah, you can?” Gunner’s eyebrows drew together doubtfully. “How?”
“If you go out to my motorcycle and find a blue fabric box in the storage container, I’ll show you.”
Gunner slowly got to his feet. “Are you telling me you can sew?”
“Yes.”
“But ... .”
“Just get me the box.” I was at the end of my rope. “It won’t take long to fix the costume and then we can get Raisin back to school ... hopefully with no one being the wiser that she was gone.”
“That would be nice,” Rooster acknowledged. “I just ... can you really sew?”
Ugh. All these doubts were making me want to punch all three of them. “I guess there’s only one way to find out, huh?”
Thirteen
“Omigod! It’s perfect!”
Raisin was absolutely thrilled an hour later when she twirled in the middle of the bar to show off her costume to Gunner and Rooster. Whistler had returned by this point and was equally amused by her reaction.
“You look good,” I encouraged. “The big debut is tonight, right?”
She nodded, chewing her bottom lip. “Um ... you guys are still coming, right? Nothing has happened to drag you away, has it?”
“Of course not,” Rooster reassured her. “We will be there. You, however, need to get out of here. If someone catches you ... .”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Raisin imperiously waved off his concerns. “I’ve got it.” Her eyes were filled with an emotion I didn’t recognize when she turned to me. “Thank you.”
The gratitude was so heartfelt it threw me for a loop. “It’s not a big deal.” My cheeks burned when I felt the others focus on me. “You’ll be great. I’m looking forward to seeing you steal the show tonight.”
“I’m kind of nervous,” Raisin admitted. “I’ve never done anything like this.”
“But you were so excited a few minutes ago,” Gunner protested. “What happened to change that between now and then?”
Raisin didn’t immediately answer. Oddly enough, even though I wasn’t keen on standing up in front of people and acting for the masses, I understood what was bothering her.
“It’s normal to be nervous,” I told her. “Some of th
e most famous actors in the world say that their first theater performance was nerve-wracking. They also say that the moment they took the stage all those doubts went away and they knew exactly what to do.”
Raisin’s expression was so suspicious it almost made me laugh out loud. “Oh, yeah? What actors?”
“George Clooney.” It was the first name that came to mind. I had no idea if he actually did theater, but I figured it didn’t matter.
“Who?”
I frowned. “How can you not know George Clooney?”
“He was Batman in a very bad movie,” Gunner volunteered.
Raisin tilted her head to the side, considering, and then shook her head. “No. That was Christian Bale ... and Ben Affleck, although Affleck should’ve never put on the suit.”
“Before them,” I said.
“Um ... I don’t think Batman was a thing before them.”
Wow, did I feel old.
Gunner slid his eyes to me and I could tell he was thinking the same thing.
“What about Ocean’s 11?”
She shook her head.
“Three Kings?”
“Nope.”
I was starting to get desperate. “Gravity?”
“Yeah, I don’t think I saw that.”
It was time to change tactics. “I believe Julia Roberts said the same thing.”
“Emma Roberts’ aunt? I think I’ve heard of her.”
Yup, I was officially done. “You should be heading back to school.”
“You should,” Rooster agreed. “Change back into your regular clothes and then we’re leaving. I’m taking you back to school to make sure you go.”
Raisin looked resigned. “For a biker gang, you guys are awfully annoying about following the rules.”
“Yes, well, we’re more than one thing.”
Once Raisin left, I did my best to ignore Gunner, who I could feel staring at me. Finally, I couldn’t take it a second longer and practically exploded. “What?”
“Nothing.” His lips curved. “You’re just a constant surprise. I can’t believe you can sew. That’s so ... domestic.”
“You try living on three hundred bucks a month at eighteen,” I suggested. “You’ll learn how to fix your own clothes really quickly, too. Otherwise you’ll go naked, and that’s not a good thing if you spend a lot of time in rough neighborhoods.”
His smile faded. “I really wish you wouldn’t say things like that. It makes me feel angry ... and a little entitled.”
“Well, then you should be careful who you tease.”
“Fair enough.”
I DRESSED IN SIMPLE BLACK PANTS AND A NICE top for Raisin’s debut. Gunner picked me up in his truck because we figured it would be easier. He let loose a low wolf whistle when he saw me, which I proceeded to ignore as I fastened my seatbelt.
“What?” I was feeling on display today, and I didn’t like it.
“You look nice.”
I waited for him to add something to the statement, like an ill-timed joke. When he didn’t, my cheeks started burning. “Oh, well, thanks.”
His amusement was obvious as he leaned forward to kiss my cheek. “Sometimes a compliment is just a compliment,” he whispered, sending chills up my spine.
“I know. I ... am still getting used to it.”
“Well, try a little harder. You’re beautiful.” He studied me for a moment and then put the truck in gear. “You remind me of Raisin a little bit. You’re both nervous about ridiculous things.”
“I get where she’s coming from,” I argued. “It’s difficult to let down the protective wall and let others in. It’s not easy to make yourself vulnerable, and that’s exactly what she’s doing tonight.”
“Yeah, but if you make yourself vulnerable — and I’m doing it, too, with you, so it’s not as if you’re the only one — you open yourself to great things happening. How can that not be good?”
He had a point, which was annoying. “I’m just saying that it’s an adjustment.”
“Well, you’re doing a fairly good job adjusting, so I guess I’ll let it go for today.” He extended his hand over the console and twined his fingers with mine. “Are you looking forward to high school theater?”
The question was posed with such good humor that I could do nothing but laugh. “I think we’ll survive, or maybe that’s just wishful thinking.”
“I think it’s going to be a fun night, and Raisin really needs it. She’s lived a hard life. Things are going better for her now, but she still needs reassurance.”
“She does, but she also needs to learn boundaries. Whistler could get in real trouble if some undercover investigator from the state drops in during one of her impromptu visits.”
“We’ve told her. She doesn’t understand the gravity of the situation.”
“Well, she needs to.”
“Do you have any suggestions on how to make that happen?”
“No, but I’ll give it some serious thought.”
“Sounds like a plan. For tonight, however, I would appreciate if you saved all your serious thoughts for me. I have some plans for you after our trip to the theater, and they don’t include frowning and fretting.”
My lips curved, unbidden. “One thing I have to give you, somehow you always manage to have plans no matter the circumstances.”
“I’m good that way.”
“You’re ... something.”
HIGH SCHOOL THEATER IS ONE OF THOSE things you either love or hate. To love it, you need to have a child performing on the stage, someone you love beyond reason. To tolerate it, you have to find the laughter in the production.
That’s what I did.
Raisin’s take on Little Red Riding Hood was something straight out of a web soap opera. For those curious, a web-only soap opera is even cornier than regular soap operas, which I happened to like because one of my foster mothers was addicted to General Hospital and she taught me all about the genre.
To be fair, Raisin warned us it was an updated take. So, instead of Red Riding Hood skipping through the forest to visit her grandmother, this version had Red slink around the mean streets of Detroit looking for a drug dealer. No joke. It was an extremely gritty take, or would’ve been if the dialogue wasn’t so laughable.
“I’m confused,” Gunner hedged as he sat next to me, my fingers linked with his. He was focused on the stage, but his expression was one of complete bafflement.
“What confuses you?” I asked in a whisper. “Is it the fact that the Big Bad Wolf is actually a biker guy with a bad wig or the fact that Raisin keeps talking about Red Riding Hood moonlighting as a prostitute?”
“Both.” Gunner looked anything but thrilled. “This is a school production. It’s supposed to be clean ... and she’s mentioned getting paid for sex three times.”
It took everything I had not to burst out laughing. “They’re teenagers.”
“That’s not an excuse.”
“Do you remember what it was like to be a teenager?”
“I don’t remember having plays like this. We stuck to the boring stuff, like Shakespeare and ... what’s that play with the four little women?”
“Little Women.”
“That’s what I said.”
I rolled my eyes, opting to change tactics. “I think you’re missing the point. Raisin said the kids wrote the play themselves. That means they got to put their spin on it. Kids today are exposed to a lot of news stories and bad reality television — and that’s on top of those Kardashians, who I swear are rotting the brains of people everywhere.”
His lips quirked. “I get all of that. I still don’t understand why some adult didn’t come in and stop this before it happened.”
“You mean censor it.”
“I mean ... fine. I don’t particularly like the word, but this is awful.”
“It’s fine. Just ... suck it up and keep your smile in place. No matter what happens, Raisin needs to believe that you’re enjoying yourself.”
“Right.�
�� He squeezed my hand tighter. “I’m going to need some very vigorous bedtime stories to wash this thing out of my head later.”
“You and me both.”
NINETY MINUTES LATER, I WASN’T SURE what I felt. Numb might’ve been the best word. The production only got weirder, with Red Riding Hood essentially blowing off the wolf’s head after trying to put a diamond-studded collar on him. Technically the play ended on a high note, with Red Riding Hood surviving ... and going back to her life as a prostitute. It didn’t leave me with a happy feeling, though.
“I want to wash my eyes out with lye soap,” Gunner hissed as he stood with me at the back of the gymnasium. “I mean ... that was horrible.”
I glanced around to make sure nobody had overheard him. Thankfully most of the guests had fled the second the final curtain dropped. It was a mass exodus of epic proportions. We weren’t the only ones freaked out by the play. The other attendees clearly couldn’t wait to escape.
“You need to be careful what you say,” I warned, pinning him with a serious look. “This is important to Raisin. The play may have been a little ... peculiar ... but she was still great in it.”
Instead of agreeing, he snorted. “Peculiar? That was a toxic dump of ... I don’t even know what.”
“Gunner ... .”
“Scout.” He mimicked my tone and gave me a wide smile. “You don’t have to worry about me saying anything to hurt her feelings. I’m not an idiot. You have to admit that was a terrible play, though.”
“It was ... unique.”
He folded his arms over his chest and waited. “I’m not going to get naked for you tonight until you admit it was crap.”
“Um ... that’s not an appropriate threat for a woman. I can go without sex longer than you.”
“Oh, please. We both know that’s not true. You’re hot for me.”
He was a little too cute to argue with, so I decided to change the topic. “Just tell her she was good. After what happened with her father ... .” I trailed off. The memory of her bruised and battered face would haunt me for a long time. Her father was an abusive jerk who not only hurt her but also threatened to take her life. We taught him a valuable lesson before making sure Raisin was in a safe environment with her grandmother. I knew she was better off. Still, certain things about that night haunted me.
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