Clean Lines (Cedar Tree #4) (29 page)

With Fox on the other end, we manage to pull the sheet away from the doorway and carry it down the porch. In the hallway, Naomi stands and surveys the damage.

"Lucky I didn't have anything hanging on the walls yet," she deadpans, looking at the huge gauge in the wall between the mudroom and the hallway where the front door had been wedged.

"First let's just pull out whatever loose material we can find and be careful of glass. Emma put some heavy gloves in those buckets." The doctor is in the house, and I'm more than happy to let her take charge. I'd been worried coming back here might have triggered something for her, but that was apparently for nothing, because she just ploughs right in as if I didn't find her bloodied and curled in a ball behind the toilet last night. The memory of that vision will haunt me for a long time to come.

After Fox and I drag out the mangled front door and toss it over the side of the porch, I grab a bucket and head into the living area, where the remnants of our dinner still sit on the kitchen counter. Glass first. The window closest to where my truck had been parked had literally been blown to smithereens. Doc's gonna need a new couch. Aside from being torn up by the bigger shards, this one is full of slivers and there's no way I'll ever sit my ass down on it again.

"Fox! Wanna give me a hand hauling this couch out? It's a total loss." Against Naomi's protestations and with a bit of nifty manoeuvring we manage to slide it through the hole where the window used to be. Outside, we lob it over the porch railing onto the parking and are about to pull it out of the way to the back of the house, when Clint's truck pulls in. He's got just one other guy with him and waves as they start pulling tools out of the bed of the truck, taking them inside.

I'm about to walk inside behind Fox when my phone rings.

"Joe, it's Caleb. I can't get hold of Naomi. She with you?" There's an edge to his voice I haven't heard before.

"Yeah. We're cleaning up at the Parker house. Hang on, let me get her. Everything ok?" I ask, walking over to where Naomi is shaking hands with Clint and his helper.

"Not sure. Mattias is sick."

I put my hand on Naomi's shoulder and hold out the phone. "Baby’s sick. It’s Caleb for you."

Clint and the other guy have moved into the living room to take stock of the damage there. Doesn't look nearly as bad with all the debris gone.

"Did you check for fever?" I hear Naomi ask. "So how long has it been since he's kept anything down? Okay. I'll be right over, but you tell Katie for me that if that boy is in danger of dehydration, I'll be the one calling the ambulance myself. Okay. Soon." She turns to hand me my phone back.

"So sorry, but I've got to pop over to check on Mattias. Don't want to take a risk with a little baby and Katie would rather not take him to the hospital if it isn't serious for risk of infection there. Caleb doesn't agree," she chuckles, "I'm afraid I have to side with Katie on this one. We should only bring him in if it's serious. People get sick in hospitals. Can I have the keys? I won't be long."

Like hell.

"I'll drive you."

"But what about Fox? He just slipped downstairs, probably to play some games in his 'man cave,' as he calls it."

I walk to the basement door and holler downstairs. "Hey Bud? Your mom's gotta go check on the baby real quick, let's go!"

"I'll just stay here. Clint's here right? Not like I'll be alone," he yells back.

I turn to look at Naomi who shrugs her shoulders. "Okay fine, they're barely five minutes away, but I'll drop you off and am coming straight back here. You can call when you're ready or have Caleb drop you off."

Ducking my head in the living room, I give Clint a head's up and ask if he can keep an eye on Fox.

"Yeah. No problem. We'll be fine." With a wave of his hand he turns back to scraping the remaining shards off the window frame.

I hop out and pull Naomi's bag out of the back for her when we arrive at Caleb’s just under five minutes later. She's about to run inside when I grab her by the arm and spin her around.

"One second," I mumble against her lips before taking her mouth deep, swiping my tongue along hers and tasting her thoroughly. When I let her go, she smiles and takes a step back.

"What was that?"

"Don't know. I just needed it. Don't like the idea of leaving you here, but I don't like leaving Fox alone either. Now I can take your taste with me."

A soft smile settles on her face as she steps up to me again, reaching out to swipe her thumb over my lips.

"Sometimes you surprise me. I love you, Joe."

"Ditto, beautiful."

I watch her go inside before getting back in the car. Just then my phone goes off in my pocket. A quick glance at the screen identifies Gus.

"Talk to me."

"Where are you?"

"Just dropped off Naomi to check on Mattias. On my way back to the Parker house now, why?"

"Thank God. Mal found a short-term furnished rental just on the far side of Cortez in the name of Guy Rush. Paid cash for a month, couple of weeks ago. Talked to the neighbors who say he got picked up a few times by a work truck in the mornings. One of them remembers seeing the name Mason Brothers on the side. Whatever you do, don't go back to the house. Clint's not answering. We're on our way."

My blood freezes in my veins and my foot slams down on the accelerator as I bite out, "Like fucking hell! Fox is at the house!"

"H
ey little man. What are you doing spitting up all over the place? You've got your daddy worried sick."

I've just finished unwrapping little Mattias who looks a little flushed, but barely spikes a fever. He does seem a little lethargic though and when I palpate his stomach he scrunches up his little face and starts screaming loudly. Katie is calm enough sitting on the bed beside me, but Caleb is a wreck pacing back and forth across the upstairs landing of their home.

"Tummy ache, huh? Let's figure this out." I undo his diaper and notice a urine stain. Should be clear as water if he was drinking properly. Nothing else seems to be amiss. When I put my pinkie finger in his mouth though, he starts up his wailing again and a little light-bulb goes off.

"How has he been feeding?" I ask Katie.

"Not well the last twenty-four hours or so. I thought it was a phase and every time he would latch on enthusiastically enough, but as soon as he starts sucking he pops off and screams. I don't think he's managed to get a whole lot in. We even tried pumping and giving him the bottle, thinking it might be easier for him, but it doesn’t seem to make a whole lot of difference."

I pick up the little guy and walk over to the large picture window where I gently widen his already open, screaming, little mouth to the daylight. Sure enough, the inside of his mouth and side of his little tongue is coated with small milky white patches. Cradling the unhappy baby against my shoulder, I turn to his parents. Katie sits quietly waiting on the bed and Caleb leans against the doorway, concern etching his face.

"Thrush. This little guy has thrush and Katie, babe, you probably do too. It's a fairly common yeast infection that can flare up in breast fed babies and is transferrable from mom to baby and vice versa. Have your nipples been sore? I mean getting worse instead of better?" I correct after seeing the slight wince on Katie's face.

"I thought I might be getting cracked nipples but I couldn't find anything other than that they seemed a little redder and more sensitive. So what? We need antibiotics or something?" She asks and I feel baby Mattias settle down a little at the sound of her voice.

"Actually no. No antibiotics, but what I'd like you to try is Gentian Violet. It's a topical treatment, perhaps a bit old-fashioned but it does the trick nine out of ten times. You should be able to pick it up over the counter at Walgreens and use a sterile gauze to wipe the inside of Mattias' mouth as well as your nipples. I'll write down instructions because I don't want you to use too much. It's gonna be messy enough as it is; I suggest you get latex gloves," I chuckle, remembering the time Fox had thrush and I had bluish purple fingers for days after getting too much of the stuff on the gauze. "You should sterilize everything he's had in his mouth, though; bottle nipples, soothers, toys—anything that might re-infect him. And run all your nursing bras through a hot cycle before wearing them again."

"Does she have to stop nursing?" Caleb wants to know.

"Absolutely not. Keep trying and keep pumping a little, ‘cause the bottle might still be a little less painful at first than the bottle, but don't start with the bottle, always breast first. That reminds me, any leftover breast milk has to be tossed, and don't forget to sterilize the pump."

I hand Katie over a now quieted Mattias, and he snuggles right into her neck with a little satisfied grunt before closing his eyes tightly, while I start writing down detailed instructions for the Gentian Violet. When I tear the prescription note off the pad and hand it to Katie, Caleb takes it from my hand and walks toward the door.

"Okay, let’s go." Caleb stands in the doorway motioning me to come when Katie throws him a scathing look.

"Caleb! What in the blazes is wrong with you? That's rude. Let me have a visit first."

"Little One, our boy is sick and I need to get to Walgreens to get this stuff. I'm gonna pass by Naomi's place on the way so I can drop her off. I'm just being sensible."

Katie rolls her eyes and opens her mouth to object but I beat her to it.

"Actually, that works well for me, honey," I tell her, "A lot of shit's going on, as you know, and I know Joe's back there already, but I'd still feel better if I were close to Fox right now."

Understanding settles on Katie's face. "Gotcha. I was being totally selfish."

"No way. We're gonna have some quality time when all this settles down. I have much to discuss with you." I smile at her.

"I bet, I wanna hear all the deets."

"As long as I can be out of the house when that happens," Caleb pipes up, still waiting in the doorway.

With a quick kiss for little Mattias and my best girl, I grab my bag and jog down the stairs after him.

Fox

This basement is da bomb. The only thing missing is a separate entrance, that would be perfect, but I doubt Mom would let me put one in. Still, it's way cooler than my room in the other house.

Instead of playing my game, I decide to hone my pool skills. Not that I really have any to begin with, but Dad had a table—smaller than this eight foot beauty—and I played a little. Wouldn't mind playing a game or two with Joe. He doesn't seem like such a bad guy once you get over the sheriff part. He did let me off the hook pretty easy. He's also been a decent guy to my mom. I didn't know if I was gonna like it at first, but I like seeing her happy. And despite this fucked up situation, he does seem to make her happy. I think. What the fuck do I know? 

I rack up the balls again and wind back to break them when I stop to listen. Thought I heard the basement door and I look up at the stairs. Nothing else though—must've come from upstairs. I focus back on my shot and break the balls. Not bad, two stripes in opposite corner pockets. Stripes it is. Walking around the table I try to pick the easiest next shot, which is on the far corner. An easy shot, that is, if I can keep it in a clean line; something I've not been particularly good at with this cast on, bouncing my cue ball of the sides and other balls. It's a matter of hitting it in just the right spot.

I'm concentrating so hard, I don't hear anything until I feel the press of cold hard steel against the base of my skull. I know what that is—I've felt it before. Laying the pool cue down on the table I slowly straighten up dragging my hands over the surface of the table when I feel the smooth surface of a ball against my thumb. Shifting my body, I hope to distract whoever is behind me, while I slip the ball inside the sleeve of my hoodie and grab the end of the sleeve to keep it from sliding out again. When I finally stand, I try to turn around but a vaguely familiar voice stops me.

"Don't turn around. Got a phone? Pull it out. Carefully," he hisses, as I reach for my pocket. "Call your mother and tell her your contractor got hurt and they need to come back. Now."

I'm fighting hard not to piss my pants. I try dialing Mom's number but nothing happens. No ring tone. Nothing. I try again, but the call doesn’t even connect. When I check my screen, I see I barely have a single bar.

"Call your fucking mother, you little useless dickwad!"

"I'm not getting reception down here," I manage to get out quickly when he yanks back on my hair, the gun now wedged under my chin.

His hand holding me by the hair and the gun back behind my ear, he swings me around to the stairs, moving me forward. I let him push me up the steps, the ball still hidden against my cast. I'm not quite sure how it's going to help me yet, but I feel better for its weight in my sleeve.

When I stick my head through the doorway at the top of the stairway, movement to the left catches my eye. But before I can help it, the hitch in my movement must've alerted the asshole behind me, because with a final shove, he pushes me up the stairs and out in the hallway, where I land on hands and knees. Turning my head, I finally see Clint's sidekick standing over me, the gun still aimed at my head, but his eyes are focussed down the hallway.