Clean Lines (Cedar Tree #4) (3 page)

Suddenly none of this was okay anymore; not the belittling I would endure, not the cheating, none of it. So I called it. I told him I was done and he didn't even fight me, just scoffed and said I wasn't ever gonna manage on my own. Fuck that.

I moved to Cortez three years ago, hoping to find a place to live where I could teach my son some proper values, where I would be able to heal and he could develop into a normal healthy kid. But thirteen is a tough age. As if the split wasn’t hard enough on him, moving from bustling Phoenix to quiet Cortez had a huge impact. Not to mention the fact that suddenly the mother who had been mostly depressed and emotionally absent for most of his life, was now suddenly up in his face.

I tried to lay out some very basic ground rules without sweating all the small stuff, but in the long run, even that handful of rules was too much for Fox. At fifteen he decided to move back with his father in Phoenix, a move James seemed eager to try, so I gave in, wanting to give them a chance to improve their barely existent relationship.

Crap
. I don't know what went wrong in Phoenix and I have no idea what state Fox will be in when he gets home, but I have a feeling the tension will be high.

The surly and oppositional, but very verbal Fox, is the one I expected to come off that bus; not this quietly angry kid in front of me, doing everything he can to avoid eye contact.

"Hey, Bub. Good trip?" I try for a neutral start, along with one of my big 'mom' hugs he has grown to hate over the years. He surprises me when he wraps his arms around me and hides his head in my neck. Not easy, since Fox outgrew my five-foot-two frame when he was barely twelve.

A mumbled '
fine'
from his ever-deepening sixteen-year-old voice reaches me, and my motherly instincts are screaming foul. I caution myself to patience; knowing my boy.  If I start questioning him about what happened before he is ready to spill, I may never find out. So I tuck my curiosity and worry down and stealthily run my hand through his longish hair in a futile attempt to capture the little boy that was. Sensing more affection than he is comfortable with, Fox straightens up immediately.
Busted.

"Come on. Let's get your gear and pick up some greasy Mexican before heading home. Sound good?"

Taking the barely formulated ‘
Whatever
’ as encouragement, I hoist one of his bags over my shoulder and walk to the car.

Despite his typical bottomless appetite, the food from his favorite Mexican restaurant does little to lift his spirits.

"Have you stayed in touch with Miles at all?"

He shakes his head. "Nah, only for a bit on Facebook, but it was awkward."

"Well, I saw him yesterday at the clinic. He's doing volunteer hours there now. Told him you were coming, and he said he might pop by later? Maybe you wanna give him a call?"

The only response I get is a shrug before he takes off to his room and closes the door.
All right then.
I'd almost welcome the arguing and yelling from before to this boy I hardly recognize. What the fuck happened in Phoenix?

With Fox in his room and his music on loud enough to wake the dead, I step out on the deck to call James for some answers.

"Miller—"

"James, it's me. Just wanted to let you know I got Fox off the bus okay. We're home now, but I—"

"Not another word. I'll call you back," James cuts me off sharply and hangs up.

Looking at the phone in my hand in disbelief, I have to fight the urge to call back right away and tell him to fuck the hell off with his asshole behavior. What the hell was that all about? Something in the tone of his voice holds me back and I head inside to clean up the remnants of our take out from El Burro Pancho.

It's still early, only nine thirty, when I crawl into bed after a shower and quick peek in on Fox. Tomorrow is Monday and Fox has to start back to school, which he seems less than enthused about. I have to start a new shift that has me on four twelve-hour days, followed by three days off. Not a great way to start off with my boy back home, but it is what it is and I'll take the three days off in a row.

Just as I reach over to flick off my nightlight, I notice a missed call. James. I quickly call up the voice mail.

"Don't call me on my phone again, Naomi," he starts, his voice just barely above a whisper to where I have to strain to decipher what he’s saying. "I've run into some trouble and it's best you don't contact me. Don't let Fox get in touch with anyone back here either. Make sure of it. If you have to, just tell him he was heard..." A click ends the call with a friendly voice asking if I want to delete or save the message. Instinctively I want to hit seven for delete, but at the last minute I change my mind and save it instead. I spend the night mulling over what kind of shit James got himself and our son into.

"Bub! Come get your breakfast. We're gonna be late!" I yell up at the bottom of the stairs.

Fox has settled in somewhat over the past week. He's still not talking much, and after trying to get some more information out of him the first morning about what happened with his father, I decided to give that some time after he cut me off sharply. I was still concerned though, especially since I hadn't heard another thing from James since.

When he drags his long lanky body into the kitchen and plops down on a stool, I go in for another attempt. Setting a plate of French toast in front of him, I cautiously ask, "Have you heard anything from Dad lately?"

Fox looks at me from under his eyelids still heavy with sleep and slowly shakes his head.

"Nothing?"

"No Mom, nothing. Can I eat my breakfast now?"

Against better knowledge, I decide to push a little. "I'm just wondering, honey. He left me a message after you first got home not to contact him, but I haven't heard from him. I'd hoped he would've at least talked to you."

His head shoots up at that. "He called here?"

"I'd called him and must've interrupted something ‘cause he hung up on me, but called me back when I was in the shower and left a message. Haven't heard since and thought maybe he'd contacted you."

"Did he say anything?" Fox looks at me eagerly, but I don't want to go into details over the strange message. If it worries me, it's sure to worry him. So I lie.

"Only to say that he'll be busy for a while and not to call his phone."

His shoulders slump a little more as he shovels his food in his mouth, not saying another word.
Damn
.

The drive to school is quiet after that and I barely get a response when I drop him off, reminding him his dinner just needs to be heated up in the microwave.

"I'll be home around nine thirty," I manage to fire off after him as he walks away from the car.

I have half an hour before the start of my shift and am determined to put it to good use. I need some answers.

The moment I walk into the hospital, Jenna Stanley, the hospital administrator, makes a beeline for me.

"Naomi, can I have a minute?"

"Can it wait ten minutes, Jenna? I came in early to make a few phone calls first."

The stuck up Barbie never fails to try and flaunt the fact she's dating our new Sheriff in my face.
Whatever.
She can have Joe. Not like I ever had him to begin with. But word had gotten out of our one disastrous date, years ago, and apparently our somewhat antagonistic attitudes toward each other also have not gone unnoticed. Reason enough for Jenna to try and stake her claim. And apparently Barbie is not happy at being delayed in being able to do so, judging from the ginormous pout on her perfectly made up face. That's too bad. I firmly shut the door to the small office behind me, leaving her standing in the hallway.

"Bancroft, Leeds, Miller and Associates. How may I direct your call?"

"Hi, yes. I'd like to speak to James Miller, please? It's Naomi Waters."

"Ms. Waters, I'm sorry to inform you that Mr. Miller is not available. Can I take a message?"

"Actually no. I'm calling about our son and it's important I speak with him."

I can hear the rustling of someone putting their hand over the mouthpiece, a click, and then the familiar voice of Frank, one of James' partners, comes over the line.

"Naomi, how are you?"

"Frank? Hi. I'm good, but confused. What is going on? Something wrong with James?"

"Why do you think that? Has he been in touch with you?" Frank counters.

"I talked to him briefly about a week ago, but he hung up on me and he left me a rather cryptic message after that. But both Fox and I are getting a little worried."

"Fox is with you? Thank God!"

"What the fuck is going on, Frank? You are worrying me." A chill runs down my spine at the thought Fox might've been missing as well.

"We haven't seen James for over a week. He simply never showed up to court one day and we can't find him. We've been to his house, which has been ransacked. No sign of him or Fox so we didn't know where either of them were."

"Well Fox is here. James sent him back last week on the bus. Why didn't anybody contact me?"

"We didn't know where to find you, Naomi. James never told us where you had gone. He always kept things close to his chest. A habit we all get into, working in criminal law I guess, and there was no paperwork anywhere to even indicate your maiden name."

"Did anything happen? Any cases go wrong? Are the police on it?" I have so many questions I want answers to.

"We're looking into all of his recent cases and so are the cops. We just filed a missing person's report, but maybe you should give me your location so I can pass that on to them. They'll likely want to get in touch with you too."

I don't know what it is, but something about the slight eager edge to his voice makes me resist giving him my address or personal number.

"You know what, Frank? Just give me the name of whatever officer is in charge and I'll get in touch with them myself."

I can tell he's not happy, and after trying once more to push me for more information, he gives in and passes on the name I need. I'll have to hold off on calling until I have a break during my shift, because I just officially went on the clock. At least that's what I'm thinking Jenna means when she opens the door without knocking and starts tapping on her wristwatch.
Bitch
.

"S
o there's nothing you can tell me? I mean, I have his son at home and he's worried. We’re both worried."

"Sorry ma'am, we've looked into the possible disappearance of Mr. Miller, but I have to tell you, it appears as though he may have left of his own free will, since all personal papers, his car and a good amount of his clothes seem to be missing. The apparent break in may very well have happened after he was already gone. We found no evidence of anything but property damage to the house. I'm sorry, there really isn't much else I can tell you."

The officer is starting to get on my nerves, so I try once again. "At least tell me you are looking into some of the cases he was working on? I told you, on the message he left on my phone he clearly indicated he was in trouble. Surely that would warrant a closer look?"

"Ma'am, as I mentioned, you're welcome to drop the recording off at your local PD in Cortez and they will make sure it gets to us in case there is ever a need to follow up, but in the meantime, I'm afraid that other than a breaking and entering, there is no evidence of any crime taking place."

Afraid I'll say something I regret, I hang up the phone, seething with frustration.

It's dinnertime and I worked all day without a break until now. A quick stale sandwich from the cafeteria is all I manage to grab before calling the Phoenix PD. One bite that tastes like sawdust and I'm no longer hungry either. I turn to toss the remainder of the sandwich in the garbage when a figure in the doorway startles me.

"Jesus! Katie, you scared the crap out of me. What are you doing here?"

I smile up at my newly married, very pregnant and annoyingly happy friend, Katie Whitetail.

"Had a session with Kendra and got a craving for a Harissa grilled chicken sandwich from the Farm Bistro and decided to bring one for you too. You mentioned last week you were working late shifts?"