After driving a couple of miles, Moriah directed him to pull into the driveway of a small, white frame house. Beside it stood two bulldozers, one slightly larger and newer than the other, as well as a backhoe and a large flatbed trailer. In front of the garage was a red Ford pickup.
Her buddy, Jack, might be a great heavy equipment operator, but apparently he didn’t know how to operate a lawnmower. Knee high weeds and grass decorated the front yard.
“Your friend's not much into yard maintenance, is he?” Ben followed Moriah up the front steps.
“He's pretty busy,” she admitted, “but it isn't usually this bad. Jack's proud of his home. He worked hard to buy it. He and Alicia have probably just been a little overwhelmed with their new baby.”
Moriah knocked, but no one answered the door.
“That’s odd. His truck’s here.” She knocked again. “He’s usually wherever that truck is.”
When no one came to the door, she tried the doorknob. It opened easily. Moriah poked her head in and gasped. Ben looked over her shoulder. The living room had been completely trashed. The couch had been overturned, pictures hung askew on the walls, and curtains puddled on the floor. The place looked like a tornado had hit it, except there had been no tornado.
“Jack?” she called.
No answer.
“Jack? It’s Moriah. Are you home?”
“Maybe we should call the police,” Ben suggested.
Moriah ignored him. “Jack?” She tiptoed down a hallway, peeking into each room. Ben stopped and stared at the kitchen as he followed her. Every cabinet hung open; every piece of china lay smashed on the floor. Someone with a violent temper had definitely been at work here. Feelings of deja vu swept over him. This scene was sickeningly familiar to him.
“Ben!” Moriah called from the back of the house. “Come here. Quick. Something is wrong with Jack!”
Ben made his way toward her voice. He passed a room to the left of the hallway and glanced in. Unlike the rest of the house, peace and order reigned within. It was a nursery, pink, pristine and perfect. At least, in there, nothing had been disturbed.
At the end of the hall, in the master bedroom, stench and filth greeted him.
A man, whom Ben presumed to be the marvelous backhoe operator, Jack, lay clothed in pajama bottoms on a disheveled bed. Dirty clothes and decaying food were scattered about.
Moriah stood in the middle of the disarray, looking bewildered and vulnerable.
“Jack?” She bent over and shook the inert figure on the bed. “Where's Alicia and little Betsy?”
The man mumbled something into the pillow along the lines of wanting to be left alone.
“Please, Jack. Tell me what's wrong.” She shook his shoulder again. “Are you sick?”
Ben leaned against the doorframe, crossed his arms, and took in the situation. It wasn’t hard to read. What surprised him was that Moriah didn’t seem to understand what was going on.
“Does your friend like to drink, by any chance?” Ben asked.
“A little,” Moriah said, “but he stopped when he fell in love with Alicia. She wouldn’t marry him unless he did.”
“I think he might have started again.”
“Is that what’s wrong with him?” She glanced up at Ben from Jack’s bedside. “He’s not sick? He’s just drunk?”
“Yep. You need to leave, Moriah,” he said. “Let me take care of this.”
“But, what if he needs…”
“Out!” He wanted Moriah gone from this stinking room. “Now. Please.”
With one last glance of concern for Jack, Moriah obeyed.
“Get up,” Ben growled at the semi-conscious figure, once he heard Moriah moving around in the kitchen.
“Leave me alone.”
“Get up!” Ben fisted his hand in Jack’s dirty blonde hair. The desire to shake some sense into the man was overwhelming. This was Moriah’s good friend?
Jack opened one red-rimmed eye, squinted, and peered at him. “Who are you?”
“I was the man who was going to give you a good job for the summer. I don’t think that’s going to happen now.”
Jack let loose a string of curses, then awkwardly swung his legs over the side of the bed and pulled himself up into a sitting position.
“Was that Moriah in here?”
“Yes.”
Another string of expletives split the air. “I didn’t want her to see me like this.” He leaned over and cradled his head in his hands.
“Where are your wife and baby?”
“I didn’t touch them if that’s what you’re thinking.”
“Did you do all this damage while they were still here?”
“No. After they left. Quit asking me questions; my head hurts.”
Ben breathed a sigh of relief. He hoped Jack was telling the truth.
“How long have they been gone?”
“What day is it?” Jack scrubbed his hands over his face, as though trying to wake himself up.
“Saturday.”
“Alicia took Betsy to her mother’s two weeks ago.”
“Good for her,” Ben said.
“I’m not a drunk.” Jack glared at Ben.
“Could’ve fooled me.”
“She shouldn't have left.” Jack shook his head. “I need her with me to stay sober.”
“Your wife showed good sense. She got herself and your baby to a safe place. Now, get up before Moriah comes in to check on you again. I hear her out there, right now, trying to clean up the mess you made.”
“I was mad.” Jack stumbled to his feet, knocking over the bedside lamp in the process.
“Mad is a choice.” Ben righted the lamp and shoved his shoulder under the swaying man. “So is being stupid.”