“Asshole.” Pressing his hands against the metal desk,
Simon Parker glared at the head of the Narcotic’s Division. His teeth clenched.
He would not lose his temper and shout the words circling like poison darts in
his thoughts.
His left leg tensed. The quads tightened. Though the wound
had healed, the agony of the day the bullet tore into his flesh returned with a
roar. An image of his dead partner’s blank eyes fueled his anger. Only a few
threads of sanity kept him from erupting in an action he would regret. At the moment,
his single desire was slamming his fist into the sorry bastard’s face.
Captain Paley half rose from his chair. “I’ll ignore that
comment.”
“I’d rather you didn’t.” A burn seared Simon’s gut.
“You’re still under my command and you’ll do what I order.”
“I don’t think so.”
Paley grasped the edge of his desk. “You’re cleared for
duty. You’re going undercover with the Garsis’ gang.”
“Not going to happen.” Simon pulled two envelopes from the
pocket of his windbreaker.
“You’ll do as ordered.”
“This isn’t the army.” Simon drew a deep breath that did
nothing to calm his temper. I asked for a transfer to any division or precinct.
I’d even go back to walking a beat. Anywhere but Narcotics.”
“Your transfer was denied,” Paley said.
“Where’s the letter?”
“You’re needed here. Your experience is valuable. Just
shove your hissy fit in a drawer and follow orders.”
Simon dropped his badge and gun on the desk. More of his
control frayed. He didn’t care that the office door was open and every ear in
the outer room was tuned to the discussion in here. He wanted out before his
temper erupted.
Drawing a deep breath he held his fists at his side. “I
won’t work another day for an asshole.” He stabbed the envelopes with a finger.
“My resignation is effective immediately. Here’s a copy of my request for a
transfer. You can’t bury them in your files this time. Copies have been sent to
everyone I could think of.” He whirled and strode to the door.
“Parker, get back here.” Paley’s voice reached a level
even the dead could hear. “We’re not finished.”
“I am.”
“Just listen to me. Pull off this job and you’ll be
golden.”
Simon stomped to the door. “Too late. I quit. I’m done.
I’m out of here.” Could he make his decision any clearer?
“I’ll recommend you for a promotion.”
“Not going to bite your carrot.” The words he’d held back
seeped closer to an eruption. He nearly turned to blast the man and halted the
action. No sense being arrested for assault. Cops fared poorly in prison.
“Why walk out?” The shouted question reached Simon. “Give
me a good reason.”
“To save my life. Not gonna let you or anyone put me on a
slab.” He slammed the door to Paley’s office and stomped into the outer room.
Anger snapped the last thread restraining his temper. If he’d had his gun he
would have shot the bastard.
The desks in the outer office were mainly empty. The few
men and women present pretended to be busy. His glare must have warned them not
to poke.
At the elevator he pressed the down button in a series of
impatient thrusts. What now? He had no idea but anywhere but here would do. The
doors opened. Not anywhere. There were a few places he never wanted to visit
again like the abandoned warehouse and the hospital or…
Not going there.
When Simon stepped outside, the smells of the city slapped
him. Exhaust fumes from passing cars. The odors of people passing by. Hints of
cooking food, garbage and some unidentifiable stenches.
Sounds made his head ache. Horns blared. Rap, pop, and
strains of other music rushed past. The buzz of passing conversations reminded
him of swarming bees.
Instead of taking a series of buses, he hailed a cab and
gave his address. He sank against the cushions to find the calm center he’d
lost days ago when he’d learned his request for a transfer hadn’t been
received.
At the apartment building, he paid the cabby and rode the
elevator to the third floor. He opened the door and wrinkled his nose. Place
smelled stale just like his life. He opened several windows hoping to catch a
breeze. The April day had turned warmer than predicted.
He strode to the kitchen for a beer. The red circle around
the date brought a scowl. A former female friend had circled dates on every
page for special days. Happy Birthday. Number twenty eight. Big deal.
He grabbed a beer and peered into the nearly empty
shelves. Should he hit the corner deli? Maybe tomorrow. He tapped a number and
ordered a loaded pie. Maybe he’d light a candle. One would suffice.
Back in the living room he kicked off his shoes, took a
swig and groaned. He needed a life. The weeks since his release from the
hospital had found him spending more tine here than usual. Trips for physical
therapy, to a local restaurant or to the deli marked his social schedule.
His gaze swept over the room and he noticed how few
personal touches had accumulated in the five years he’d lived in the apartment.
A few snapshots, a diploma, books and the small wooden box he’d taken from Fern
Lake when he’d run. The apartment could belong to anyone.
One month left on the lease. He had until then to decide
whether to renew or not. Until he decided what was next on his agenda, he couldn’t
sign for another year. He loved being a cop. Hadn’t minded Narcotics until the
asshole Paley had been made boss.
Pizza arrived. He set the box on the glass top of the
coffee table, pulled a slice free and turned on the TV. Until he found a new
path he was a man of leisure.
Thoughts of doing nothing made him swallow a huge bite. He
had enough in the bank to last a year or so. His jaw clenched. Doing nothing
wasn’t his style. He’d never just lazed about.
As he finished a second slice, a persistent buzz annoyed
him. Not his cell or the burner phone. What the hell. Who would call on the
land line? Only one person ever did. He dashed to the kitchen and grabbed the
receiver of the wall phone.
“Hello.”
He recognized the voice. Was she calling the way she
always did on a major holiday or his birthday? “Aunt May, guess you
remembered.”
She gasped. “I’d forgotten. Happy Birthday.”
Simon’s hand tightened on the receiver. He heard huskiness
in her voice. Had she been crying? “What’s wrong?” The sound of her blowing her
nose reached him.
“It’s Randy.”
What had his cousin done to make his aunt cry? There had
been several calls from her over the years when Randy had been in trouble.
“Tell me.”
“He was killed in an automobile accident last night.”
Simon wished he was close enough to offer her comfort.
She’d always been strong and Randy had been her most troubled child. “When?”
“Around midnight.”
“Where?”
“He and his fiancé were on their way from dinner at the
Club.”
Simon felt like he’d been kicked by a mule. A memory of
the winding road from the building high on the hill outside Fern Lake flashed
into view.
“Fiancée? What do you mean?”
Though he and his aunt had talked on Christmas Day, his
cousin hadn’t been mentioned. Had he missed something? About two years ago,
Randy had married Simon’s high school sweetheart. “I thought he was married.”
May cleared her throat. “He and Dana divorced seven months
ago.” She sighed. “Their parting shouldn’t still upset me since he didn’t treat
her nicely.”
Simon sucked in a breath. A dozen memories from the days
when he’d lived at the Grantlan mansion crowded his thoughts. He shoved them
away. Anything that happened back then would stay there. Moving forward was his
style.
“Did he abuse her?” He couldn’t contain the question.
“Not in a physical way.” She paused. “His drinking and
womanizing were painful for her. She received little support when she tried to
get him to seek help. Robert didn’t approve of the marriage. Neither did
Patricia.”
“What do you want me to do?”
“Come for the viewing and stay for the funeral. There are
things we need to discuss.”
Simon’s gut clenched. The small scars on his back itched.
Randy was dead. Didn’t change any of Simon’s feelings toward most of the
Grantlan family. He cared for Aunt May. His mother’s sister had welcomed him
even though she hadn’t spoken to his parents since they’d eloped. After their
deaths she’d insisted her husband give him a home.
He drew a deep breath. What new bomb would blow up his
life? He’d resigned from a job he’d liked because he’d refused to obey Paley’s
orders. Years ago he’d taken off because Dana had denied him what he’d wanted.
He’d been an asshole that day. He groaned. Every time he reached a turning
point he walked away. Move forward and don’t look back, he’d told himself.
Would returning to Fern Lake be a mistake?
“Simon, are you there?”
“Yes.”
“Will you come?”
He swallowed against the huge lump forming in his throat. He’d
lived in the Grantlan mansion for eight miserable years. No day had passed
without being told he wasn’t worthy of being part of the family. Only the huge
fortune his aunt had inherited from her family had made her suited to become a
Grantlan.
“I’m not sure I can take the time off.” His face burned
but he couldn’t tell her he didn’t care about Randy. In fact he felt glad.
“I’m sure they’ll give you the days for a family funeral.”
Since there was no one to grant him leave, she was right.
His own reluctance to retrace his tracks held him back.
“Simon, please. I’m afraid trouble is brewing.”
“What kind?”
“Patricia is out of control. She’s making wild accusations
and spouting conspiracy theories. Said Dana sabotaged Randy’s car or Melanie
grabbed the wheel. You know how close she and Randy were.”
“Can’t Robert control her?”
“He’s angry about something to do with the business. Keeps
saying Randy picked a bad time to die.”
Is any time good? “Why?”
“I don’t know. He doesn’t discuss business with me. What
if Dana comes to the funeral home? She and I have become friends. What if
Patricia attacks her?”
He shouldn’t care but he did. Simon released the breath he
held. He had no place to be. “I’ll come tomorrow.” Would he regret the
decision?
“I’ll have your room prepared.”
“Don’t. I can’t stay there.” Thoughts of being in that
house again brought a rush of acid into his throat. Ten years ago he’d vowed never
to enter the Grantlan mansion again.
2 comments:
Love, love, love this book! Gave it 5 stars because that's the most there is! Jamie Hill
Jamie, Thanks for coming. Thanks for your liking this book just a smidgen
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