The Secrets on Forest Bend Page 16

  “You’re not forever, Heather. You’re just here until you give up and go on to the next level, whatever that is. And I’m not talking to you about my love life, that’s confidential. In fact, I’m not talking to you about anything, period. Now scram, I have work to do.”

  Jillian parked in front of a CVS close to Adam’s house. She left the camera in the car and took only the memory card inside. When she had all of the photos displayed on the screen, she picked the best ones and started working. She adjusted the focus so the serial numbers were clear and easy to read on the pictures taken in her shop. The photos taken in the station were not as well lit, so she played with the contrast until it was as sharp as she could get it.

  Her heart skipped a beat when she got to the photo showing Marshall handing her the form. That bastard had a hand in killing three people. She kept adjusting until the pink color was unmistakable. After printing all the photos she needed, she grabbed a six-pack of Shiner Bock, paid the clerk, and left. Adam’s house was less than two blocks away.

  A side gate led to the backyard, and she made herself at home on his deck. She found a comfortable chair and opened a beer. As soon as she was settled, the birds returned to the feeder, and an enormously fat ball of yellow fur came through the cat door to check her out.

  Holding his cup of coffee, Adam strolled casually through the lobby. He never looked in Marshall’s direction. Tommy had left, but Nelson and Steinberg had returned, so he pulled his chair close to their desks and began explaining what he had found on their case. Forty-five minutes later they were up-to-date, and he limped to the door of Hard Luck’s office.

  “I’m going to take off, Lieutenant. If I don’t get this shoe off soon, I may be crippled for life.”

  “That’s your hard luck. You shouldn’t be diddling during working hours. Take the shoe off and go barefooted. You promised you weren’t going to take injured leave.” Hard Luck took off his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Four and one half months and counting. That’s how much time I have left before I have to spend my days driving around, playing golf with my wife. Your little escapade out in the country isn’t going to ruin my perfect record. I’ll need something to remember and be proud of while she tells me I’m using the wrong club.”

  “It doesn’t have to be injured leave. Call it comp time for the case I took after I clocked out last week, and I won’t ask for anything else.”

  “In that case, get out of here. Try to be one hundred percent by the next time I see you. If the chief comes by, I don’t want to have to explain what happened to you.”

  Adam started for the door, but Hard Luck called him back. “Hey, Campbell, was she worth it?”

  “That she was, Sir. She’s worth every bit of the shit that’s going to rain down on me about this.”

  “In that case, you’re a lucky man. You can ask me, I know. This job is hard on relationships. I’m on my third wife. If you’re lucky enough to find a good one, then you put up with all the shit you need to in order to keep it going, even if they talk during your back swing.”

  Jillian sat on Adam’s deck and lifted her face to the late afternoon breeze. If she stayed relatively still, the birds and squirrels continued to play around the feeder. She sipped slowly on a beer from the six-pack she picked up at the drug store. Despite the racket from squabbling blue jays and fox squirrels, it was the perfect atmosphere for reflecting. And she had some thinking to do.

  She needed to decide what she wanted to do about Adam.

  In high school, she’d been too shy and chubby to attract the attention of boys. Once she started playing basketball, the weight had fallen off and the boys had started to notice her, but Heather’s presence kept her too introverted to respond. In college, she discovered drugs.

  She’d partied every night and slept all day. Guys swarmed around her like flies to watermelon. They were only too willing to show her how to have a good time. After the first semester, she didn’t bother to register for classes again.

  One morning, she woke up in a strange room and realized she had lost two days. Heather was sitting in a chair watching her.

  “Promise you’ll come be with me when you die,” Heather said. “At the rate you’re going, it won’t be long, and I don’t want to be alone.”

  She drove straight home and confronted her father, asking him to help her get clean.

  She started working at the store with her dad and found it accomplished two things. She loved the work and was good at it, even better than her dad. She also discovered Heather wouldn’t come anywhere near the store. That’s when she came up with the plan to build an apartment over the showroom. Unfortunately, once she was out of the house, her father gave up any pretense of staying sober, no matter how hard Jillian tried to help him.

  She’d tried dating, but that caused its own set of problems. It seemed she had two choices. She could hang out in a bar and find someone for a one night stand; have fun, but never let them get to know her. Or she could find a guy she liked and date him for a while. As long as she brought him to her place, Heather couldn’t bother them too much. If the guy was a little shallow, and never tried to get too close, it could last for a while. If the guy actually cared about her and tried to know her better, she had to drop him fast.

  When she waited too long, Heather would intervene. “It’s time to show him what’s going on or show him the door,” she would say.

  If Jillian didn’t comply, Heather would do something unpleasant to make herself known.

  The only other option was to tell the guy about Heather first, and when she tried that, it was a disaster. He would run like a grizzly was on his heels.

  Lately, she’d stopped dating altogether and tried to find other ways to fill her life. She let Larry, the sheriff’s deputy, spread rumors she was gay. It made life simpler.

  Now here she was, waiting on Adam’s back deck. She knew she was safe for the moment. Heather would be uncomfortable around a policeman. Unfortunately, Adam was a detective and that meant he had an inquisitive mind. He was infatuated now, but sooner or later he was going to notice the things Jillian did to keep Heather at bay and that logical mind was never going to accept the idea of something he couldn’t see.

  This was the first time in a couple of years she’d taken a chance and opened herself up to someone and the very things that drew her to him were the things that would eventually doom the relationship.

  That’s life, I suppose. I’ll take it one day at a time, and if Adam gets too nosy or Heather gets too jealous, I’ll run for the hills.

  He was worth taking the risk.

  By the time Adam reached home, his foot was throbbing. Seeing Jillian’s car parked in front of his house made him forget any discomfort. He hurried around to the backyard and saw Jillian sitting in his favorite Adirondack chair, Rover asleep in her lap.

  “What have you done to my attack cat? He’s supposed to be protecting the yard.”

  “He was easily bribed with a piece of cheese cracker.”

  Adam scratched him under the chin. “You have no loyalty. You’d let a gang of street rowdies party in my living room if they’d give you tuna fish. You’re completely useless.”

  He leaned over and kissed Jillian gently on the lips. “This is nice. Not coming home to an empty house and a resentful cat. Did you have trouble finding the place?”

  “No, your map was easy to follow. I stopped by the drugstore and printed the pictures. Wait till you see how well they turned out.”

  She handed him the stack of photos, and he began flipping through them. “This is a good one. You can see Marshall’s face as he takes the gun. And here, in the one we took at your shop, the serial number shows up. I wasn’t sure if it would.”

  He held up a photo of a large yellow blob. “What’s this? It looks like an alien from a science fiction movie.”

  “That’s what I thought when I saw the picture. After I met Rover, I still wasn’t sure.”

  “Come on, let’s go in.
I’ve got to get this shoe off.” He took her hand and they went into the kitchen. “I was fine until I told Hard Luck I had to leave because my foot hurt, then it started throbbing. It must be payback for lying to my boss.”

  “I know how you feel. I’ve got to get some of these clothes off myself. Do you know I’m actually wearing a bra? It must have been invented by a man who hates women. It’s completely cut off circulation to essential parts of my body.”

  He wiggled his eyebrows and grinned. This day might turn out all right after all. “Perhaps I can help with that. I can’t have a guest in my home be uncomfortable.” He pulled her through the house and into his bedroom, where they stood enjoying each other for several minutes. How could she be so soft and firm at the same time? Every inch of his body was on fire, the pain in his foot long forgotten.

  He let go of her long enough to take off his jacket, and started toward a large closet on the far side of the room.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” She grabbed his hand and pulled him close as she tossed her purse to the far side of the bed.

  “I need to put my weapons in the gun safe.”

  “Later.” She removed his shoulder holster and dropped it beside the bed. “You promised to make me feel better. And I take promises very seriously.” She unbuttoned his shirt and tossed it to the side.

  She shoved him back and he fell onto the bed, laughing. When she tried to pull his pants off, they hung on his ankle holster. Within minutes, the pants and holster were in a heap at the foot of the bed, and she was massaging the indention the holster had left in his leg. “Poor baby. You look worse than I do.”

  “Let me check on that,” he said, pulling off her blouse and unfastening her bra.

  It was dark when Jillian sensed him moving around in the bed. She opened one eye. He was hiding his watch under the blanket, but the glow of the dial gave him away. “Do you have an appointment?”

  “No, no.” He lay back down and put his arms around her. Within a few minutes, she felt him squirming again.

  “Okay, what is it? What’s going on? I know you’re not tired of me yet.”

  Adam hung his head, looking sheepish. “Would you be terribly upset if I checked on eBay? I bid on a carburetor for a ’57 Chevy. They’re awfully hard to find, and I’ve been looking for months. I was confident I bid enough I wouldn’t have to worry, but now I’m wondering if I should have gone higher.”

  “I already knew I came behind your job and cat. Now I find out I rank behind a carburetor?”

  “Wait.” He grabbed his laptop from the kitchen and brought it to the bed. They sat together for five minutes while the clock ticked down and he won his bid.

  His shirt was caught on the bedpost, and he tossed it to her. “Put this on, and I’ll show you.” He stepped into his pants and pulled them up, but left the belt undone.

  “Didn’t we get into trouble for this type of thing once before?” she asked as they went out the back door. They scurried across a short breezeway to the garage.

  He reached in and flipped on the lights. When he hit the button, the garage door went up. “No one’s going to bother us. This neighborhood shuts down at dark.”

  At that moment, a voice called from across the street. “Hey, Adam. Did you get the carburetor?”

  “Should be here next week.”

  A neighbor crossed the lawn. “Oh, sorry, I didn’t know you had company.”

  He was a slight, balding man, wearing what were obviously his Saturday kick-around clothes: baggy plaid shorts and a golf shirt that had seen better days.

  “Hey, Chester, this is my friend, Jillian. Jillian, this is Chester. He’s been keeping me company while I try to bring this old gem back to life.”

  Jillian smiled and pulled on the hem of Adam’s shirt. Letting go long enough to shake hands didn’t seem like a good idea.

  “Did Adam show you this beauty? He’s been working on it for months. It was a total wreck when he started.”

  It still looked like a wreck to Jillian, but she could see he’d been working on the engine.

  “He found it in a junkyard. We’ve spent many a Saturday driving around looking for parts. With the carburetor, he can finish this old girl. He’s already got the exhaust system working. Then he’ll sell it to an antique car enthusiast. They like to work on the body, but don’t always have the expertise to fix the engine.”

  Jillian wanted to inspect it closer, but leaning over might be risky. Finally, the neighbor went back across the street and she could look without fear of exposing herself.

  The garage was a mini workshop. The walls were lined with tools and equipment. He had installed a hoist in the ceiling. Everything was neat and tidy. Even the floor was spotless.

  “I’ve never seen a workshop this clean.” She knew he liked to work with his hands, but she had no idea he was this talented.

  “It’s not always like this. I haven’t been able to do any work lately without the carburetor, so I cleaned up and organized. With the profit I make on this car, I’m going to put in an air conditioner.”

  “So, you’ve done this before?”

  “This is my most ambitious project. I told you my father was a mechanic. The only time we got along when I was young was working on cars. When he moved to the hill country, he gave me his tools. A couple of years ago, I went to a car show with a friend who’s into antique cars. While we were there, one of the cars broke down, and I was able to fix it.”

  He ran a hand lovingly down the side of the Chevy. “Suddenly, people started calling me to help with their old cars. With each one I repair, I use the money to buy more tools or fix this place up. Did you see the Art Car Parade last year?”

  “I saw parts of it on the news. I didn’t see the parade.” Each new thing she learned about him made her feel closer. Losing him would be hard.

  “Did you see the car covered with flowers made out of bottle caps?”

  She tried to remember. “Yeah, I think I saw that one. It won something, didn’t it?”

  “The President’s Trophy, I think. Anyway, it broke down the day before the parade and the owner called me in a panic. The last time he had it repaired, the mechanic was careless and broke off some of the design. He had it towed here, and I fixed it. When I returned it, not one bottle cap was broken.

  He stopped for a minute, and his eyes filled with pride. “It’s just a hobby now. I can work as much or as little as I want to. It’s nice to come out here and tinker, but it’s more than that. My job can be stressful, and this is my ace in the hole. It’s my Fuck You job if it gets too much and I want to quit or when I get ready to retire.”

  Jillian looked at him from across the hood of the car. “I didn’t know you wanted to quit your job.”

  “I don’t nine days out of ten, but knowing you have something to fall back on helps get you through that tenth day. I love my job, and I feel like I make a difference, help people. I’m proud of the department, and being a detective is an achievement. Being in homicide is the top of the heap. So I didn’t mean that as a complaint. When I see a greedy, self-serving fuck-head like Marshall bring dishonor on the department, I get upset. He makes honest cops look bad and a tough job even tougher.”

  “He’s going to get what he deserves.”

  Adam shook his head. “No. He’s not going to get near what he deserves. It’s not just HPD he’s put a black mark on, it’s every police department in the country. You don’t think the wire services would love this story if they found out? Then the damage would impact every community. People don’t like to take time to drive to a police station and fill out forms to turn in something they think might be dangerous. But they do it because it’s the right thing to do, and the majority of people do the right thing.”

  Jillian came around the car and put her hand on his shoulder, but he continued getting more worked up. “Now someone in Des Moines or Tallahassee will stop to wonder if it’s worth the trouble, if the police will just put it back on the street again.
Marshall’s going to get off easy, but turning him in would do more damage than I could live with.”

  They started back inside. Adam put his arm around her waist and the motion pulled the shirt up. The breeze tickled her bare bottom, but she didn’t pull away. “Would you feel better if you took it to your lieutenant and let him make the decision?”

  “No. Ruben and I discussed it. Hard Luck’s so clean, he might as well have a strip across his forehead that says Sanitized For Your Protection. If he found out ahead of time, he’d take it to IA. If he finds out later, he’ll do whatever it takes to back me up. I’m satisfied I’m doing the right thing. Enough of this. Let’s get dressed and I’ll buy you dinner.”

  “If it counts for anything, I think you’re doing the right thing, and it was my gun to start with. However, I can’t go out to dinner with you. I’m opening the store in the morning and it’s going to be a long, hard day without Cara, so I better get home.”

  Adam turned to face her, holding both her hands and kissing her on the forehead. “It does count for something. It counts for a lot. But I’d like it better if you’d spend the night. I wish you could stay tomorrow. It’s First Saturday. They’ll have an Artist’s Market and street musicians. There’s a shuttle to different outdoor events. I’d love to be able to show it to you. What about tomorrow night? You could come over as soon as you close the store. I’d take you someplace nice to eat, and we could spend the day together Sunday.”

  A real relationship, not just a few hot nights. What would that be like? Jillian stood on tiptoes and put her arms around his neck. The shirt rode up even higher, but she didn’t care. “That sounds like heaven. I’ll be here as quick as I can.”