Chapter 7

I was glad I hadn’t had to twist Jack’s arm to go to Hank’s house with me. He had volunteered of his own free will, which worked in my favor. Hank never turned Jack away, but it was very likely that he’d slam the door in my face, especially if I started poking around in his memories. Plus, I had never been to Hank’s house before and he wasn’t the most welcoming of people even on a good day.

While following Jack over to Hank’s house, I tried to come up with a strategy. I had to get information without being obvious. I was sure there had to be something in Wade’s past that could help divert attention from Hank and bypass Ida, but how could I ask Hank without seeming nosy?

Jack slowed his truck to a crawl as he pushed through a group of reporters staked out on the road in front of the house. Jack parked near the garage and motioned for me to park alongside him.

Before I could exit, reporters swarmed both vehicles. Cameras pressed in the windows. Questions shouted. I couldn’t tell one from another. Thankfully, Jack had managed to escape from his truck and wedge over to my door, blocking them. Cracking open the door, I squeezed out. He wrapped his arm around me, undeterred, and forged ahead to the front door. However determined, we moved slowly, batting away cameras to gain ground. I couldn’t see the front door in the confusion.

Two shots fired. Everyone stilled, except for a few who scurried away. Jack and I didn’t have that option. We looked for the source. It quickly became apparent who shot those rounds. Hank stood on his porch with a rifle pointed in the air.

“Get off my damn property!” he barked.

No one moved. They all stared at him as if they weren’t sure what to do. It only took Hank lowering his rifle to the crowd for them to all take off running every which way. It gave Jack and me a perfect opportunity to dash for the door.

As soon as we were inside, Hank backed his way in and then slammed the door and locked it.

“Damn media,” he muttered.

“How long have they been here?” Jack asked.

“Since I was called in for questioning.” Hank propped the gun by the door and took a seat on a faded orange easy chair that faced a bulky square television. “Have a seat, if you want.”

Jack sat on the couch and kicked up one foot on the coffee table. It had been on the tip of my tongue to scold him for abusing furniture, but by the look of things, all the furniture had a long life of abuse.

On my way over to sit next to Jack, I passed family portraits. Not many, but a few that had Hank, Ida, and Jack. There was a young lady as well. One of her photos must have been a senior high school picture. She was prettily dressed for the decade in which it was taken. Maybe thirty years ago. I’m not sure why I stopped to look at her. Perhaps it was because she was the only one I didn’t recognize. Or maybe it was because of her light-brown eyes that matched the unique gold necklace she wore. The gold looped and swirled around her slender neck.

I wanted to ask who she was, but I knew I wouldn’t get a straight answer from Hank. He never shared anything personal. And there were more important things to discuss.

Taking a seat next to Jack, I slowly sunk into the couch.

“That side lost its springs awhile back,” Jack said. “Use the middle cushion.”

Struggling to shift over, I gripped the armrest to heave myself out.

“Grandma threatened to burn the couch,” Jack said when I finally wiggled free and plopped down next to him.

“She should have,” I said, winded from the exertion. I didn’t think I was that out of shape, but perhaps I should join Mrs. Janowski at the senior center gym more often.

“The couch stays,” Hank stated. “What do you two want?”

“Mars has Hog questions,” Jack said.

“And you?” Hank raised a brow at Jack.

“I’m seeing how you are.”

“Fine. Now you can go.”

“I’ll wait and leave with Mars.” Jack put his hands behind his head and made himself comfortable. “The reporters might attack again.”

“I can take care of them.” He jabbed his thumb over to the gun.

“I’m staying.”

“Suit yourself.” Hank frowned and then looked at me. “What questions?”

“Um.” I couldn’t think of anything. Nothing. How could I pry into Hank’s life and not have it sound as such? “I can’t recall.”

“Then get out.”

“Stop being a grumpy old bastard,” Jack muttered as if he’d said it a thousand times before.

“Aw, tah hell with you,” Hank replied with the same lackluster tone.

“Should I come back later?” I asked.

“Don’t bother,” Jack said. “You’d get the same reception.”

“Yes,” I leaned over to whisper. “But he might be grieving.”

“Grieving?” Hank overheard my words. “Why would I be grieving?”

“I just thought that since they discovered Wade’s body—”

“Did they make it official?”

“I don’t know.”

Hank shook his head. “It ain’t him.”

“But you said he disappeared.”

“Probably pissed off a woman and had to clear out.”

“Wouldn’t he tell you he was leaving?”

Hank shrugged.

“Did he make many women angry?” I asked, thinking of Ida.

Hank chuckled. “Every day.”

“What did he do?”

“To piss off women?” Hank clarified. When I nodded, Hank scowled and said, “It was a different time back then. Men ruled the roost, and sometimes Wade forgot that there was a line you don’t cross. He crossed many.”

Wade must have trampled through a major line for Ida to kill him.

“Why do you care?” Hank asked.

“I was just curious.”

“I know how a woman’s mind tends to jump to conclusions. You were probably thinking an angry woman killed Wade and buried him.” Hank gave a small chuckle. “The only woman with that much brass is Ida.” He laughed again and then stopped as if remembering something. He turned to Jack. “Have you talked to Ida recently?”

“No, I left a message, but she hasn’t returned my call yet.”

Hank stood and shuffled over to the door. He picked up the shotgun and peered out the window. “Time to go. I need to check on something.”

Jack stood. “Are you sure you want to go out there?”

“They won’t be a problem. You get to your vehicles first, and I’ll follow behind.”

“Is this about Grandma? I’m sure she’s fine. I heard Mrs. J has another club. She’s probably busy with that.”

Hank opened the door. “Out.”

I followed Jack to the door. He stopped to address Hank before leaving. “Call if you need anything.”

“I won’t.”

Jack shook his head with a resigned sigh and walked out. I followed, hurrying to my car as Hank waved his gun back and forth, warding off the flock of reporters.

Shifting into reverse, I slowly backed down the driveway and through the reporters. It was like swimming with jellyfish. The reporters swarmed the car, only allowing me to move inch by painful inch. It wasn’t until I had backed out far enough that they then turned their attention to Jack.

Sorry, Jack.

I sped down the farmland road, distancing myself.

If Mrs. Janowski wanted to help Ida, she had to hurry. There wasn’t much gained from my talk with Hank. And after his quick departure, I had the feeling even Hank was on to Ida. The police would be next.

My phone rang loudly, jarring and unwelcomed. Without looking at the caller ID, I answered.

“I saw you on the news going into Hank’s house,” a man said. “Give Ida a message for me. Tell her what happens next is her fault.”

“What do you mean? Who is this? Hello?” I shook the phone as if that would bring him back on the line. “Hello?”

With a curse I slammed the phone down onto the passenger seat.

The phone rang again. I snatched it up. “Who the hell are you?”

“It’s Kym. Why are you yelling?”

Taking a deep breath, I apologized. “I thought you were someone else.”

“I sure don’t want to be that someone. Who made you this mad? I’ve honestly never heard you yell like that.”

“I’m sorry,” I apologized again. “Right before you called I got off the phone with a creepy guy. I thought you were him.”

“Oh, I hate those calls. Was he breathing heavy and asking what you were wearing?”

“Not quite.”

“Did he ask you to send a naked picture of yourself?”

“No, it wasn’t one of those calls.”

“Then what kind of call was it?”

“I can’t describe it. Not right now, anyway.”

“Oh, okay. Well, maybe you can later.”

“Yeah, later,” I agreed absently.

“Mars, you do remember that you have to see me later too, right?”

“What?”

“You said you’d visit me and Aaron this afternoon. I was just calling to see what time.”

“Oh!” It wasn’t that I had forgotten about the visit, I had just been momentarily sidetracked. “I’ll be there in an hour,” I said. “We can do whatever you want.”

“Good! I was hoping you didn’t forget.”

“I’d never forget a promise to Aaron.”

“I know.”

After hanging up with Kym, I wondered what I should do. I wanted to tell Mrs. Janowski about the odd call, but she had a tendency to confuse me, and I needed a few moments to process everything.

I thought about calling Rand for advice, but he was busy with his other work and I didn’t want to disturb him. He would assign me a task or bite my head off, depending upon his mood.

So, I drove across town to hopefully get a chance to see Brett if he wasn’t too busy with his new client.

Twenty minutes later, I parked next to Brett’s Viper. My car was an ugly monstrosity next to his sleek, shiny car. Fitting, since that’s the way I felt standing next to his sculpted form.

Walking through the security office’s front door, I found Emmy at her desk in tears.

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s that blonde witch,” she sniffled, snatching a tissue from the box. Judging from the wadded tissues scattered all over her desk, the box had to be on empty.

Emmy didn’t have to explain who the blonde witch was. “What did Emily do?”

“She’s taken over the office. I can’t even go pee unless I get a pass from her.”

“That seems a bit over the top.” Even for Emily. “Are you sure it’s as bad as that?”

Emmy held up a ruler. “I only get three of these a day.”

I reached over to take the ruler. Flipping it around, I read, “Good for one bathroom break.”

“I drink a lot of water,” she sniffled. “It’s good for my skin.”

By the look of it, her skin was currently well hydrated by the steady stream of tears.

“Did you talk to T or Brett?”

“They’re never around.”

“Where are they? Brett’s car is here.”

“They’re with one of our clients working on a staffing problem. T drove.”

I dialed Brett’s number and waited. After being sent to voicemail, I hung up.

“T never answers his phone either.” She grabbed another tissue.

“But you live together, right? Can’t you explain this to him when he comes home?”

“I’m normally asleep by then. I tried to wait up last night, but by the time he came home, I was passed out. I have no idea when he left again this morning.”

“Brett did the same thing.”

“I don’t know what to do.”

“Give me the address of the new client.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Why?”

“Well—”

“Emmy!” Emily scolded as she rounded the corner. “I didn’t give you permission to take a break. Get back to work.”

Emmy sniffed but did as she was told.

“You have no right to order Emmy around,” I stated.

“Yes, I do. I’ve been hired as the office manager, and she is under my direct supervision.”

“You’re not the office manager.”

“Yes I am. You can ask Brett yourself.”

“I will.”

She flipped her hair over her shoulder. “Suit yourself. He has a long night ahead of him. I doubt he’ll have time for you.”

“He’ll make time.”

“Has he made time for you yet?” she asked innocently.

“What game are you playing?”

“I’m not playing games. But, if I was, you wouldn’t even be on the same playing field.”

“Were you like this when you were Eve’s friend?” I probably shouldn’t have brought up a painful subject for both her and Brett, but I had to know if Emily had always behaved this way or if it was just because I was Brett’s girlfriend.

Emily paused for a moment before saying, “Eve’s dead.”

“I know. Judging by your actions, I don’t think you were a very good friend to her.”

“That’s your opinion. The only opinion that matters is Brett’s.”

I turned to Emmy. “Can I get that address?”

Emmy scribbled on a sticky note then handed it to me.

“Whose address is that?” Emily asked. “We aren’t allowed to give out company information.”

“It’s for a doctor,” I said, stuffing the paper into my pocket. “I’m suddenly feeling very sick. Emmy, call me later.”

She nodded. “Okay.”

I blasted out the door, controlling the urge to scream all the way to my car. While I suppressed it in the parking lot, I couldn’t contain it once I was in my car with the door closed.

Why did I allow Emily to crawl under my skin? She was a parasite. This had to stop. I was miserable, Emmy was miserable, and Brett trotted off to work, leaving a mess in his wake.

Taking the address from my pocket, I wondered if I should go. Brett and T wouldn’t appreciate me showing up at a new client’s place, yet they were never around to have a discussion. Weighing the options, the last conversation with Emily still buzzed through my head. I figured I could at least drive past the business and see if I could locate the boys without a big fuss.

I drove out of the lot, wondering why the address seemed familiar. It wasn’t until I reached the building that I knew. I had been there before. It was where I had met Brett. He had been slicked in oil, wearing his cowboy outfit, and waiting for his number.

I screeched to a halt in front of Longhorn’s. He wasn’t working as a stripper again, surely. I knew money was tight, but there had to be other ways.

However, the more I looked at the building, the more that idea slipped away. Perhaps it was because of the posters of naked women with censor bars barely covering their privates.

Longhorn’s had been turned into a gentlemen’s club.

And this was where Brett spent his time?

I tried to reason with this new information that had now engulfed my insides with lightning bolts and hurricanes. It was no use.

He was working at a strip club filled with naked women! And he hadn’t touched me for days! The two put together made for an unwelcome conclusion. One that had to be wrong.

And yet . . .

One thing I knew for certain: I wouldn’t go inside.

Turning the car back onto the road, I slunk away like a coward.