Genesis: A Harte's Peak Prequel (6 page)

“I thought maybe you could tell me of a good program for her. I could let Maggie know where she can find help.” Then he could be off the hook. He was so close now he could almost smell and taste freedom.

“Program? The only programs I know are for kids far worse off than Lexi. No, Lexi will be OK. She's got a good mother. A good, solid foundation.”

“I agree, but Maggie thinks she needs the influence of a father-type figure.” Right about now he wondered why that man couldn't be Calhoun. Sure, he'd be more like a grandfather, but perfect for the job. Jack opened his mouth to suggest it when Calhoun interrupted him.

“I've always said the Lord works in mysterious ways.” Calhoun said with a glance at Jack and a twinkle in his eyes.

The twinkle in the eyes, the beard, the ruddy cheeks. Santa Claus. Only Jack didn't want the present he'd brought. “What's that supposed to mean?”

“It means this is the perfect opportunity for you to work out your fear.”

There was that word again, and said aloud, it made his stomach tense. He didn't want to believe he was afraid of anything. He didn't operate that way. “You know I hate that word.”

“Whatever you want to call it, but it's time to move on, son. And this girl could use your help. What'll it hurt to have a few conversations with her?”

It would hurt a lot, but that wasn't the point. “There have to be other people who would be better at this than me.”

“But that's why God put you there. Those other people don't need to learn this particular lesson.”

He could see he wouldn't get any support from Calhoun. Not the man who told him he would not be put into any situation he could not work through with the Lord.

“I don't want to learn any lessons. I moved into your sister's rental because I couldn't live in a motel anymore. There's only one apartment complex in town, and her house was the only place that would take a month-to-month lease.”

Calhoun laughed. “I know, and look where it got you. From the frying pan into the fire. Perfect.”

“I don't have any idea what to say to this girl. And she's not exactly the easiest person in the world to talk to.” Of course, Maggie was a different story, but Calhoun didn't need to know about that.

“Son, no teenager is. But something tells me you'll find a way.”

Jack sighed, realizing he was on his own. If Dr. Logan was to be believed, and he'd have to face his greatest fear in order to sleep a full night again, then he was now on his way. If only the thought of it didn't make him cringe.

 

****

 

One thing you could say about Harte's Peak—endless beauty surrounded the town—from the pine trees cradling its boundaries to the woman sitting on her front porch as he pulled into his driveway.

Maggie sat on the wrought iron bench and stared into the distance at nothing in particular. When she caught him looking at her through the window of his truck, she waved.

He jerked like a deer caught in the headlights because somehow it seemed wrong to walk inside his house now and ignore her smiling face. Even if that was safer. He walked over, hands in his pockets.

“Hi,” he offered.
Butler, stop acting like you've never talked to a woman before.

“Just getting off work?”

“Yep.” Another one word sentence slipped out.

“I hope you don't always have to work on Sundays.” Her green eyes were sympathetic, and he only wished he deserved it.

“I told you I work crazy hours.” A succulent smell emanated from her home, and he wondered if they were having take-out. “Whatever you're cooking, it sure smells good.”

Maggie didn't appear particularly happy to hear it for some odd reason.

He shifted gears. “I talked to Lexi.”

“She told me.” Her eyes lit up. “I can't tell you how much I appreciate it. She said you told her everything she needed to know.”

Uh-oh. He'd done nothing of the sort and couldn't find words again.

An older woman with short and wavy salt and pepper hair poked her head out the open front door. “Maggie, the fried chicken is ready. Oh, hello.” She glanced at Jack, her eyes scanning the uniform and then turned to Maggie again. “Is anything wrong?”

“No,” Maggie answered immediately. “This is my neighbor, Jack Butler. Jack, this is my mother-in-law, Paula Bradshaw. Lexi's grandma.”

Jack stuck his hand out and shook Paula's. “Nice to meet you.”

“Maybe you'd like some fried chicken, too. It's Lexi's favorite, and I made plenty,” Paula said.

His perpetually empty stomach almost spoke for him, but the dejected expression in Maggie's eyes kept him from accepting. Somehow, he realized that would make her unhappy, though why, he couldn't hazard a guess. “No, thanks, ma'am. I'm fine.”

“I'll be there in a minute,” Maggie said to Paula, who shut the door again.

He stole another glance at Maggie. Her arms were folded in front of her in a defensive posture. Obviously, something bothered her, though he would think she should be glad to have the help with her obnoxious teen. If it were him, he'd take a long drive and reconsider coming back.

“Well, you all have a good dinner.” Turning, he started to walk next door. He wanted to get inside and away from this strange feeling, different from his normal hunger pangs, roiling around in the pit of his stomach.

“How did you like my lasagna?” Maggie asked, and he turned back to face her.

“It was delicious,” he lied.

Her smile was so genuine that for the first time in months Jack felt something stir inside the cold place he used to call his heart.

“Thanks. Lexi doesn't like my cooking for some reason. Paula's a great cook. In fact, she's pretty much great at everything.” She shrugged.

He recognized that look because it was one he saw in the mirror every day. Resigned, defeated, worthless. No way would he let Maggie feel that way about herself.

“I meant to tell you. Lexi is…” He didn't know where he was going with this. Flying by the seat of his pants maybe, but no more lies. “A very smart girl. You've done a great job.” The kid was smart all right, since she seemed to be two steps ahead of her mom.

“Thank you. Her dad was the real brains in the family. I think she takes after him.”

She certainly didn't take after her sweet mother.

“That's what she told me.”

“She did? What did she say?” Maggie asked.

Leaving the kid's snide comments about Maggie out, he repeated what Lexi had told him about her father.

“She's right. I guess it would be boring if she was just like me.” Maggie caught the silver lining.

“Good point.”

“I better get inside. Paula likes it when we eat dinner together.” She turned toward the door.

Jack walked back to his quiet home, wondering what kind of canned food he'd open up and heat tonight. He was getting used to this hermit-like existence although a nagging thought he wanted to ignore reminded him it might not be a good thing.

Ryan was forever trying to fix him up on a date, and he'd refused every time. He didn't even like the thought of talking to anyone, much less buying a dinner and sitting through it. Better not start up anything he couldn't finish. After all, he would return to Virginia and the Marshals as soon as he got the insomnia and the nightmares under control. That had been the plan all along. Out here in the boondocks, he might not have to be at the top of his game to function, but that wouldn't do for the Marshal Service.

After a can of chicken noodle soup, he checked his e-mail. Another message from Kimberly, Robert's wife, was in his inbox. Another round of pictures of their girls. He wrote back with the usual pithy comments.
Doing well. Be back to Virginia soon. Hard to say when, but please tell everyone to stop worrying.

Everyone included the community of fellow marshals and their families. Minus Robert.

He'd taken part of Virginia with him anyway. His U.S. Marshal badge sat on his desk next to his computer along with a photo of Robert right after he'd received the commendation for his work uncovering white supremacist groups on the eastern seaboard. Right next to the Cuban cigar he'd given Jack that very night. Fortunately, Jack didn't smoke, or he might not still have it.

He couldn't have known then that night would be the last time they'd celebrate anything together. Staring, Jack noticed with a shock that the Cuban cigar was gone from its placement near the photo. That didn't make sense, since it had sat next to the photo of Robert since he'd moved in, one of the few things he'd made sure to unpack.

He searched the room as a sinking feeling spread when he recalled that Lexi had sat at his computer the previous day. He'd left her alone for a few minutes, and it was then that she must have pocketed it.

But why would the kid steal, of all things, a rare Cuban cigar? It didn't matter why, the whole thing smacked of rebellion and unacceptable behavior.
In his own home.
He'd been right about that kid all along. Pent up frustration bubbled over, and he fought the instinct to put his fist through the wall.
Calm down.
He could stomp over there right now, and interrupt their family dinner. The grandma would glare at him over her sumptuous fried chicken as he accused her granddaughter of being a thief.

What would Maggie do? Would she believe him or stand up for her daughter? And would she have any idea why the kid had done it? Not that it mattered.

He had no idea why kids did half of the things they did. He couldn't go over there now; he was too upset to be rational. He'd wait until tomorrow. Either way, his favorite neighbor was about to get some lousy news because her daughter was a thief.

 

 

 

 

5

 

Jack jerked awake. He'd fallen asleep staring at the bottle of sleeping pills. It sat, unopened, near his digital alarm clock.

Another night without assistance. So what if he'd tossed and turned for hours. Somewhere in there, he'd actually slept, and at least it was something. He showered and shaved, taking time to note the bags that were starting to accumulate under his eyes.
I wonder how long a man can go without sleep.

A few minutes later, he heard Maggie's SUV make its valiant efforts to start. He glimpsed outside to see Lexi run to the car and hop in the passenger seat. He'd already made up his mind to speak to Maggie about the cigar first, unable to trust that he could keep his temper in check with the kid. That's what he got for allowing himself to be taken in by Maggie—the kid, stealing out of his home. All things considered, it was a much better idea to keep to himself, but for now he just wanted to get the cigar back.

He'd already decided he wouldn't press charges, and Calhoun would have talked him out of it anyway. But one thing was for sure: the kid would never step foot inside his house again.

A few minutes later Maggie returned, and he slowed his breathing as he strode outside to meet her.

“Hey. I need to talk to you,” Jack said.

Maggie met his gaze. “Sure, what's up?”

“Can we go inside?” The seriousness of the subject warranted privacy, and he had no idea how Maggie would react to the bad news. If there would be yelling, best to contain it indoors. In this arena, he had tons of experience.

“Of course.” She moved to her front door and unlocked it.

Maggie's home was the same size and floor plan of his, but the similarities ended there. This house was a home—from the warm hues of the beige walls to the vanilla scented candles on the kitchen windowsill. Even the beige leather couch in the great room appeared to be worn in all the right places.

He took a breath. “I'm just going to say it. Something is missing from my home, from my desk actually, and Lexi was the last person there.”

“Missing?” Maggie hovered near the kitchen table where she'd placed her purse.

“Missing—as in taken from my home. Gone.”

“But why do you think Lexi took it?”

He sucked in a breath. He'd been down this river called Denial with other parents, and he should have anticipated winding up there with Maggie, too. “It was at the computer desk when she came over.”

“Are you sure? Couldn't you have misplaced it somewhere?” Maggie's eyes narrowed.

“I'm sure.” He'd looked at that cigar almost every night. It was all he had left of his partner.

“I hoped you were different.” Maggie's green eyes filled with fire—a forest fire.

“Different? What do you mean?” Was this where she told him that she'd expected him to perform a miracle on her troubled teen?

“That you wouldn't assume every kid is out to make trouble. Lexi's been through a tough time, but she wouldn't steal from you. Not when you invited her into your home.”

Well, he hadn't invited her as much as her mother had, but that was beside the point. He'd allowed her to use his computer, and this was how he'd been repaid. No point other than to chalk this one up to experience.

Another reason to mistrust kids, as if he needed another one. “This is a matter of logic. We don't need a full-blown investigation.”

“Of course not. Why should you be inconvenienced?” Maggie folded her arms across her chest.

“All I know is the cigar is missing, Lexi was there, and I want it back.” Tension hovered between them, thick as early-morning fog.

The color drained from Maggie's face. She pulled out a kitchen chair and sat down with a slump. “A cigar?”

“I know it's weird that she took it, but maybe it was just a childish prank. Anyway, the cigar belonged to my partner back in Virginia. I don't smoke and it has sentimental value.” And what would a kid want with a cigar? Obviously, the whole thing had been a challenge. She'd taken it from him, perhaps as a way to repay him for mistaking her for a burglar. For staring at her mother too long. God only knew why.