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Vic
“I just- I can’t believe she did that,” I say to Clayton as we sit in an interrogation room awaiting questioning. Harmand was in bad shape when I called 911, bleeding from gashes and holes that his face didn’t normally have. They took him out on a stretcher and Abigail in cuffs.
“It’s clearly self-defense. He had no reason to be at the house except that he followed Fred’s car.” Clayton says his arm around me.
“All that blood. Clay, she was covered in it.” I can’t stop seeing the damage our girl did to another person.
“I should have let her kill him,” Clayton says as Sheriff Harrison comes in.
“You, boys, okay?”
“Where is she? Is she okay? Our baby?” Clayton questions right away.
“They’re fine. She’s fine, a little worn for the wear, but okay, just the same. What was Harmand doing in your house?”
“Wasn’t it obvious? He was after Abigail.”
“Did you see him try and assault her?”
“No.” Clayton answers.
“Victor?”
I shake my head. “No.”
“She said as much. From what we can tell, he entered the house by jimmying the lock. That shows malicious intent.”
“When can she come home?” I ask. My head is swimming, but I know I want our girl home with us where she belongs.
“A few more minutes. We’re waiting for the preliminary report from the hospital to find out Harmand’s status. The old man is hemming and hawing, so faces have to be put on.”
“The Amel’s can suck my fat juicy cock, and you can put that in my statement,” I say, huffing.
Harrison laughs and escorts us to the waiting area. I see old man Amel. Better yet, he sees Clayton and me.
“You wanna start something?” I snarl. “I’m game.”
“Young man, don’t start writing a check your body can’t cash.”
“You and your whole family are going to come undone. I’m- no better we are going to see to it.”
He steps toward me, and I hear Harrison. “Mister Amel, this is a police station.”
He halts and drops his wrinkled balding head.
Clayton pulls me away. “Where is all this aggression coming from?”
I tighten up. “I’m sick of people treating her and us like second class.”
The door swings open, and out comes Abigail.
“Well, that was interesting. You know usually, I’m the one in trouble, but the bastard attacked me on my turf. They took my monkey wrench, though.”
I hug her. “We’ll get you a new set.” I kiss her repeatedly.
“I’m glad the fucker got what he deserved,” Clayton says, adding himself to the hug.
"Let's go. I need to eat something and try and keep it down."
“Mollie’s?” I ask.
"No, no burgers." Abi acts like she's gagging.
“So, what do you want?” Clayton releases us.
"I don't know, just no burgers. Fred had one during court for lunch, and it made me sick just smelling it.”
“Chinese?” I offer as we’re walking out. “We can have it there, and you can tell me what you were plotting before hell came reigning down.”
"I need a shower and clothes."
“That might be a good idea.” Clayton laughs. “I’ll call for the food, and we’ll take it to the new place something tells me you all need the privacy.”
We get in the car, and it's quiet till Clayton goes into Fengs.
“Now, what have you got in your head, Baby girl?”
"We've got to break into the trailer. I need stuff from there. Some things came out in court today."
“I’d say some major things if Harmand was willing to go to such extremes.”
"Killian was being paid to keep it up. Harmand mentioned something about what I've got. It didn't make sense."
“Okay, so what makes you think there’s anything at the trailer still?” I turn to look at her; she’s got her scheming face on.
"I know my mother."
***
CLAYTON DIDN’T LIKE us going off without him, but more is not the merrier when breaking and entering. Taking the rig, we park a few streets away and walk over. Not wanting to be seen, we keep to the darker corners of the trailer park. I almost get eaten by a fucking Rottie. If not for its chain, tonight would be going differently.
Being the paranoid type Ellie Greenwood made sure that their trailer had two hatches. One in the roof and one in the floor. Guess where we are?
I wouldn’t care to be under this damn thing except that it’s the rainy season here in Kentucky. So everything is soft.
“Fuck it smells like something died under here,” I whisper to Abigail.
"Doesn't it always? Quit bitching. I could have done it alone."
“Not with my tools, you couldn’t. Besides with that shoulder, you can’t lift the hatch if there’s anything over it.”
"You know if we told Clayton everything we had to do to get in here, he'd throw a hissy," Abi says, stopping at the hatch. "They're both gone."
I huff, pulling my lock pic gun. I used to have the basic sets for getting into cars, but with the electronic locks nowadays, you need to get more resourceful. It’s a combination of things to get the hatch open, gun, and slim Jim. After a couple of minutes, I finally hear the lock slide and drop.
“I got it.” She’s watching for cars as I push up. “Fuck, there’s a fucking table or something on us.”
"Scoot over, and we'll push together."
I roll onto my back. “I think if we use our legs.” There isn’t much room under here, but Abigail is small enough to get a footing. I can’t, so I roll back over and lift. The hatch lifts, and we hear glass break. “Shit.” We lie still, waiting to see if any neighbors heard. “Think we’re good?”
"Nobody pays any mind to this place. This was the party spot." She rolls her eyes, pushing it the rest of the way open and climbing through. I’m right behind her, I have no idea what she’s after, but I’m here if she needs me.
She looks around, her eyes adjusting to the dark. With a big sigh, she bolts for the back toward what I’m assuming are the bedrooms. I look around, turning on my cell flashlight to get a better lay of the land. I’ve never actually been in here. She’d never allow it. It’s clean-ish but reeks of cigarettes and regret. The walls are yellowed, and the furniture looks like it’s seen better days, that’s for sure.
“Baby girl?” I whisper. It’s been a couple of minutes, and she’s been too quiet. Following in the direction, she headed, I spy her with her back to the hall. “Abs?”
"I need the extra bag you brought."
“Okay.” I hand her the bag I’ve got strapped to me. She starts grabbing stuff and adds it all to the bag. “What is all that?”
"Don't ask questions you won't like the answers to."
“Baby girl, what have you gotten us into?”
"It's stuff I need for court, okay?" She snaps, zipping the bag and slamming into my chest. I guess we’re done here, and I’m the mule.
