For Your Love (9 page)

“So Astrid was your landlord?”

He nodded. “Her family owns probably ninety-­five percent of the housing over there, so everybody rents. Step on her toes or look at her sideways and she evicts you.”

“Wow.”

“Since taking over as mayor, she's been grabbing power like an Eastern European dictator, voiding contracts, firing teachers. Everybody in town is walking on eggshells. In a lot of ways I'm glad I'm out.”

Mal came back. “She's says she'll get it ready.”

“Thanks, Mal.” Something else occurred to Bernadine. “Henry Adams could use an experienced fire chief. How about a job once you get settled in?”

Luis went still. “Really?”

“That's a damn good idea,” said Mal.

Luis looked from one to the other.

“Well?” Bernadine prodded gently.

“Are you serious?” he asked.

“Very. We'll be starting the department from scratch, so you'll get to put your own stamp on things. Job's yours if you want it.”

“I do,” he said enthusiastically. “Thank you!”

Mal asked, “Do you need help moving tomorrow?”

“Yes.”

“We can help out with that, too. Give me your number and send me a text in the morning.”

Luis looked floored. “This is so not what I expected. My mother-­in-­law is going to be thrilled.”

“Can't wait to meet her,” Bernadine said.

He stood. “I need to get back and help her and the kids finish packing up. You're a godsend, Ms. Brown.”

“Feeling the same way about you, Chief.”

He and Mal exchanged phone numbers, and with one last thank-­you to them both, Luis Acosta went back out into the December night.

Bernadine looked at Mal. “I love it when a plan comes together,” she said, quoting Hannibal Smith of
The A-­Team
.

He laughed. “Let the church say amen!”

Mal left for home a short while later. Bernadine turned out the lights and went up to check on Crystal. Upon finding her asleep, a fond smile curved her lips. She remembered when Crystal first designed the bright orange room, but wouldn't sleep in the bed because she didn't want to mess it up. Henry Adams's reigning teen queen had come so far, and God willing, she would go even farther. Bernadine moved on down the hall to her own room.

She was in her pajamas, just about to turn off her laptop and climb into bed with a book, when her Skype app activated. She opened it and, upon seeing her sister Diane's face on the screen, sighed.

“Hey, Bernie!”

Bernadine hated being called Bernie. Her sister knew it but didn't seem to care. “Hey there, Di. How are you?”

“Loving Maui and this warm weather.”

Diane was outdoors, and the backdrop of the mountains and beautiful blue sky made Bernadine, dealing with yet another winter on the plains of Kansas, quite envious. “Good seeing you. I was starting to worry.”

“Sorry. I'm having so much fun, I forgot to check in.”

“Gary wants you to call him.”

“Why?”

Bernadine did her best to keep the frustration out of her voice. “He wants to know when you're coming back to work. You were only supposed to be gone a week.”

“I've changed my mind—­I'm going to stay for Christmas. Be back after New Year's Day.”

“Then you have another job lined up?”

“No.”

As she'd noted earlier, Diane still had a ways to go on a lot of levels. The earlier version of herself had been estranged from all three of her grown children for being intolerant of who they'd chosen to love, and from Bernadine for refusing to assist with caring for their dying mother. “He can't just hold your job forever. The man's running a business.”

“You own the town, Bernie. Just tell him I'll see him in January.”

“No.
You
call Gary, and make arrangements. By tomorrow.”

Diane made a face. “Okay. Gotta go. Anthony's teaching me to surf. Talk to you later. Bye!”

And she was gone.

Bernadine blew out a breath and sent an e-­mail to Gary. He was still awake, and sent back that if Diane didn't call him by the end of business tomorrow, he'd be posting her job. Bernadine didn't argue. Either Diane was going to act like a responsible adult and handle her business, or she wasn't. Bernadine's job as sister didn't include saving Diane's bacon. She powered off the laptop and crawled into bed.

 

B
obby entered the mayor's office for his second day of work and found Trent having coffee with two men he'd not met before—­one Black, the other White. The Black guy had a no-­nonsense bearing that was either military or law enforcement. He gave the tats peeking above Bobby's collar a silent once-­over before sticking out his hand. “Barrett Payne.”

Bobby didn't react to the extra-­firm handshake. When you grow up on the streets, you don't broadcast weakness. “Military or law enforcement?”

Payne gave him a ghost of a smile. “Military. Marine colonel. Retired.”

“Pleased to meet you.”

“Same here.”

The two took each other's measure.

Payne said, “Welcome to Henry Adams. Trent speaks very highly of you. When you moved in on Monday, I was in DC at the celebration honoring the Montford Point Marines. First Marines to break the color line in WW2. Do you know about them?”

“No.”

“Look them up when you can.”

“I will,” Bobby lied.

“Barrett is the town's equivalent of Homeland Security,” Trent put in.

Uncertain how to reply to that, Bobby simply said, “Ah.”

The White guy introduced himself as the town's lead contractor. “Warren Kelly. Nice to meet you, Bobby.”

“Thanks. Nice to meet you, too.”

There was a large map of Henry Adams rolled open on a table. Bobby asked, “What're you doing?”

“Trying to figure out where to put the new library and firehouse that'll be built in the spring,” Trent explained.

For the next hour, the three men went back and forth over the best place to build, how much it might cost, and how long it might take. He'd never been party to such a discussion before and was therefore surprised to learn how many things had to be considered and decided upon during a construction project, like the proper size and gauge of sewage pipes and drains, the slope a building needed for the ice-­and-­thaw cycle in winter, and, because they were in Kansas, the best design for an area prone to tornadoes. Bobby began the discussion feigning interest but halfway into it, his interest became genuine. There were things he wanted to ask about, but kept quiet for fear of being thought dumb.

Trent seemed to have considered that. “Bobby, if there's anything you don't understand or you need explained, just ask, okay?”

“Okay.” Buoyed by that, he asked them to explain zoning restrictions, what went into an environmental evaluation, and the reason to use solar panels instead of plain old electricity. Each question was answered thoroughly and patiently.

As the meeting progressed, Bobby noticed the colonel checking him out every now and then, and he wondered what the marine might be thinking. Yesterday afternoon Crystal had stopped by for a visit and given them a rundown on the ­people they'd met so far, as well as some they hadn't, like Payne. According to her, he'd been a hardass when he first moved to town, but had mellowed a lot since then. She attributed that to his wife leaving him for a while because of an old extramarital affair he'd had, and his parenting of the teen everyone called Brain. Bobby had no idea how he and the marine might get along, but he planned to keep an open mind.

“You ever work a construction site, Bob?” Warren Kelly asked.

“No.”

“Then you'll get your chance in the spring. During construction season it's all hands on deck. We have a skilled trades crew, but everybody winds up helping out here and there. We'll train you.”

“Okay,” he said doubtfully.

“Don't worry, you'll do fine,” Barrett put in. “If you're going to be Trent's assistant, you'll need to be a Bob of all trades.”

The play on words made Bobby smile.

Barrett patted him on the shoulder. “We won't let you fail or fall. Promise.”

Bobby could count on one hand the number of ­people in his past who'd offered him such a quiet gesture of assurance and support. The jobs he'd had in Dallas were bottom-­rung, and he might as well have been invisible to those higher up the chain as he vacuumed interiors at the dealership and parked cars at the hotel on the weekends. For the most part he hadn't cared; the paycheck he took home every Friday was the only recognition he'd needed. But these three men were coming at him differently. It was almost as if he was the son or nephew they were grooming to take over the business. The thought surprised him. Hazarding a look Trent's way, he found the mayor watching him with a knowing smile. It was as if he were silently acknowledging the conclusion. Bobby didn't know what to do with that, so rather than attempt to figure it out, he turned his attention back to what Payne was saying about a high-­tech motion detector he wanted to add to the new buildings.

Around ten o'clock, Trent rolled up the map. Kelly had a meeting with some suppliers, and as he prepared to leave, he shook Bobby's hand. “Pleasure meeting you, young man. Looking forward to getting to know you and working with you.”

“Same here, thanks.”

With a nod, Kelly put on his coat and departed.

“So what else is on the mayor's agenda today?” Payne asked.

“Promised Bernadine and Mal I'd help the Acostas move. Astrid has evicted them because Luis didn't agree with her trashing the fire department contract. She's probably standing on their front porch right now, screaming at them to hurry the hell up and get out.”

Payne shook his head. “Her loss is our gain. I'm clear until after lunch. Do you want some help?”

“That would be great. The more muscle and vehicles we have, the faster they can leave.”

Bobby hadn't met Acosta yesterday, but he
had
met Seabiscuit. “I'd like to help, too.”

“Thanks,” said Trent.

Bobby followed Trent and Barrett the short distance from Henry Adams to Franklin. Mal and his buddy Clay Dobbs would be meeting them there. It snowed last night and Bobby worried about spinning out or sliding off the snow-covered road, but he gripped the wheel tightly and drove as fearlessly as he could.

The house they pulled up to was small and reminded him of the homes in his part of Dallas—­one story, with a porch and a postage-­stamp front yard. The interior was a sea of boxes, stacked bed frames, and dresser drawers still holding clothes. There were short, squat laundry hampers holding pots, pans, shoes, and toys. Luis Acosta sidestepped his way through the mayhem and shook their hands. “Thanks, guys. Really appreciate this.”

From behind him appeared a statuesque older woman and two children. The little girl, in jeans and a Hello Kitty sweatshirt, appeared to be seven or eight, and the dark-­haired boy, who sported owlish black-­framed Harry Potter glasses, might've been twelve. Luis made the introductions. “My mother-in-law, Mrs. Anna Ruiz, and my kids, Maria and Alfonso.”

Bobby wondered why no wife, but decided to ask Trent about that at a more appropriate time.

Mrs. Ruiz's dark eyes looked angry. “Thank you for your assistance. I can't wait to leave this place.”

Standing beside her, Maria looked on shyly. Alfonso, on the other hand, appeared as angry as his grandmother and nodded a terse, silent greeting.

“Then let's get started,” Trent announced.

For the next hour they loaded the big, heavy items—­bed frames, dressers, a piano, a dining room table, its chairs, and as many boxes as would fit—­into the beds of the big pickups belonging to Trent, Barrett, and Luis. More fragile belongings—­boxed dishes and glasses, along with Maria's pink-­and-­white dollhouse and a trash bag holding her collection of stuffed animals, went into the back of Mrs. Ruiz's and Bobby's SUVs.

Once none of the vehicles could hold even one spoon more, it was decided that Luis and his son would return later to load up the last few items inside.

They were standing on the porch, about to roll out, when Astrid drove up in her big, fancy gold Cadillac SUV. She stepped out wearing a big fur coat and approached them with a smile on her face that was as cold as the snow.

“What do you want?” Mrs. Ruiz asked, her voice just as chilly.

“I expect you to clean this place thoroughly before you leave. I won't be able to rent it again if it reeks of beans.”

In response to the nasty remark, Anna looked her up and down and in a withering tone scoffed, “And you profess to be a Chris­tian. Jesus must be very proud of you.” She stepped off the porch and ushered her grandchildren to her car.

Astrid's face was beet red. She turned on Luis. “If you want that security deposit back—­”

He cut her off. “Keep it. Buy yourself a new husband. Let's go, guys.”

Behind them, Astrid screeched, “Luis Acosta, I'll make sure you never work in a firehouse anywhere in this country ever again.”

“Too late,” he called back. “Ms. Brown already hired me. Last night.”

Bobby saw Astrid's eyes bulge and her jaw drop. Chuckling, he started up his vehicle and joined the small caravan ferrying the Acostas to their new life in Henry Adams.

Tommy had no idea how many days had gone by. Luckily there was a small flush toilet and a sink in the corner of the room. She'd given him an old sleeping bag and a ­couple of blankets, but there was no heat, and the room was like a freezer. She showed up once a day to toss him a bag of burgers and fries. And she always carried the shotgun. When he asked about the room, she said it used to house migrant workers. He thought he might be in her basement, but there were no windows and he was never allowed to leave, so he had no way of knowing for sure.

What he did know was that the only person who might care that he was missing was his mother. He was her only child, but he'd taken off so many times in the past, she probably figured he'd show up again eventually and wouldn't start worrying for a while. He also knew that if he really was on the Henry Adams surveillance tapes, the cops were looking for him—­but for how long was anyone's guess. It wasn't like he'd committed murder. He'd only dumped some vials of roaches on the store's shelves, so they probably wouldn't look very long. Besides, they wouldn't really put him in jail for that. Would they? Either way, he couldn't count on the police for a rescue. Since it looked like ol' Horse Face would be keeping him hidden until she came up with a way to get out of this mess without implicating herself, he needed a plan to get away on his own.

Driving out to Tamar's to pick up Rita Lynn, Trent willed himself to relax. The Acostas were all moved in. Bobby was spending the rest of the day with Barrett, and Trent was off the clock, so he could spend the rest of the day with his mother. He planned to give her the grand tour of the new and improved Henry Adams before stopping in at the Dog for lunch. After that, he had no set plans in mind, so maybe they'd head over to his place and sit and talk until the rest of the family got home. In truth, it didn't really matter. All he wanted was for the two of them to continue building their relationship as mother and son.

The voice sync on his dash opened. “Hey, Trent?” It was Will Dalton.

“Hey there, Will. What's up?”

“Just got a call from Luis Acosta. You helped him move this morning?”

“Yes. He okay?”

“Yes, but when he went back to pick up the last load, he found everything in a pile of ash smoldering on the front lawn. Said there was a strong smell of kerosene in the air.”

“Shit. Astrid.”

“That's what he said when he called me just now, but with no witnesses, nothing I can do.”

Luis said he'd be going back for a box of his kids' books, the family Christmas tree, and a few other odds and ends. “What are we going to do with her?”

“Not my monkey, not my circus, unless the monkey breaks the law.”

Trent blew out a breath of disgust. “Okay.”

“I hear you hired him as your chief last night.”

“Yes.”

“He's a good man.”

“Don't know him real well, but that's the impression I get. Since we can't throw the monkey in a cage, anything else?”

“Yes. Two things. First, Tommy Stewart's mother has filed a missing persons report on him. It's going on three weeks since she last saw him. Apparently he's taken off before, but never for this long. Second, Nebraska law enforcement found his vehicle abandoned on a back road just on their side of the state line. Torched.”

“He wasn't in it, was he?”

“No.”

“Good. I wouldn't want anyone dying like that. Do they think he set the fire himself?”

“They're still investigating.”

“Okay, thanks for the update and for your patience with Bobby the other day. Much appreciated.”

“No problem. Later.” And the sync went silent.

In Trent's mind, this entire mess was on Astrid. Once it was proven, the law firm the town retained to represent its interests would be slapping her with a civil suit for the damages and lost revenue incurred from the store's closure mandated by the Health Department. With any luck she'd end up in the poorhouse, hopefully in a country far, far away. But they had to find Tommy Stewart first.

His next sync call was from Lily, informing him that Reverend Paula had to leave town because of a family emergency back home in Oklahoma, and would reschedule their family therapy session when she returned. Hoping everything with their spiritual leader would be okay, and that somehow, some way, Devon would find the peace he needed, Trent drove on.

As he put the truck in park in front of the house he'd grown up in, he pushed all the drama aside. Inside, two women, the one who'd given him birth and the one who'd raised him, were waiting.

“So where are we going first?” his mother asked while locking her seat belt across her lap. “Nice truck.” She sounded impressed as she glanced around the black and gray interior, with its spaceship-­like dash. “I haven't ridden in a pickup since high school, and never in one this fancy.”