Give Him the Slip (18 page)

Branch had told Maddie he'd kept all the boys' rooms just the way
they were when he'd sent them from Brazos Bend. He'd never intended they stay
away forever. He'd thought a year or two of hard work and independent living
would make men of them, that they'd then return home and live the lives he'd
envisioned for them as fine, upstanding members of the Brazos Bend community.

It hadn't quite turned out the way Branch had hoped. Oh, his boys
became men, all right, the kind of men to make a father proud. Only, they
weren't proud of him. Branch's voice had cracked, and tears pooled in his eyes
the day an early start on his bourbon had loosened his tongue to the point
where he confessed that his sons wouldn't even come home for the bereavement
meal following John's memorial service.

Luke set Maddie on her feet, then yanked back the bedspread.
"Hope to hell he at least changes the sheets from time to time."

"Every other Tuesday," Maddie said. "I do it
myself."

"You change my sheets?"

"Yes."

"You clean his house? Did he fire the Garza sisters?"

"No, but they're getting on in years and it's difficult for
them to get up and down the stairs. I see to the second floor. No one ever
comes up here—Branch can't climb the steps, either—so it's an easy job."

"Hmm." Luke motioned for her to lie down. "So do
you do any of the Garza sisters' other work?"

Maddie shrugged and toed her shoes off. "Your father has
offered them a pension, but they're not ready to retire. I think they'd be just
as lost without him."

Luke just shook his head and tugged the sheet up over her.
"You better get some rest."

"You'll be here when I wake up?"

He picked up a framed photograph of the high school football team
from the bedroom's built-in bookshelf. "I'll call Bee and see if she'll do
the 'wake you up every few hours' thing."

He wasn't staying. Maddie tried to swallow her disappointment, but
it hung in her throat. "Why are you here, Luke? Why did you come if you're
going to leave right away?"

"I just intended to check up on you."

"So now you've checked, seen I'm in sad shape, and you're
going to leave?"

"I'm gonna make sure the SOB who did this to you understands
he'd better never show his face within a hundred yards of you again."

"And then you'll leave."

"I can't stay, Maddie."

She wasn't buying it. For him to be here now meant he left his
fishing trip early and traveled hundreds of miles to follow up on the mission
she'd begun by boarding the
Miss Behavin' II. A
man didn't do that on a
whim.

No, he'd wanted to be here. Whether because of her or because of
his father or because of the need to make peace with his past, she didn't know,
but she was certain that Luke's motive for visiting Brazos Bend ran deeper than
a need to "check up" on her.

So, what should she do? Make it easy for him to go? Make it
difficult for him to stay?

She should probably shut her eyes and go to sleep. Her mind was
working as slow as molasses. She'd forgotten that she didn't need the
complication men invariably brought to her life. She couldn't seem to shake the
old ones—look at Liam—why would she want to bring somebody new into the mix?

Because she couldn't stop thinking about Luke Callahan, even when
she could barely think. Because her heart had jumped when he called her.
Because the man made her want to forget the lessons of her past and take a risk
once again.

"I want you to stay with me, Luke," she said, peering
through the bleary pool of tears swimming in her eyes. "I need you."

"Look, I have to leave. I have to track down Knucklehead. He
got out of the truck when I went to your place."

"Then, come back after you find him."

Maddie didn't think she'd ever seen a man look so guilty.

"Rest your head, sweetheart."

"I don't want you to go, Luke. You've made a big step by
coming here. Don't waste it."

What was that emotion she saw flitting through his eyes? Regret?
Yearning? Confusion?

"She's right, you know."

Luke's spine went as stiff as a bois d'arc fence post. He glanced
over his shoulder. His father stood just outside the doorway. "I thought
you couldn't climb the stairs."

"I can do a lot of things if I'm motivated enough."

Except keep your youngest son from losing his head in the armpit
of the world.

"Good." Luke took a step back from the bed. "Keep
an eye on her, then. The nurse said to wake her every few hours and make her
speak to you."

"I can do that." Branch moved into Luke's old bedroom
and glanced around. "You're going after Jerry Grevas?"

"Yeah."

"You'll make sure he pays for what he did to Madeline?"

"I'll make sure the cops do their jobs." Giving Maddie
one last look, Luke pushed past his father and headed for the stairs.

Branch followed him out into the hallway. "Something strange
is going on here in town, son. I think Madeline's stumbled into more trouble
than she realizes."

"Not my problem, old man," Luke muttered while he
hurried down the steps and out of the house, as if saying it aloud might help
him believe it. He climbed into his truck and spun his wheels as he shot down
the driveway, just like old times. Running away, just like old times.

As he drove toward Maddie's neighborhood, his eyes sharp, looking
for his dog, his thoughts drifted, snippets of conversations running through
his mind like a recording.
Stumbled into more trouble than she realizes. I
don't want you to go, Luke. Cuts and contusions and a concussion.

And back on the boat with his brothers.
Just go, numb-nuts. Get
her out of your system. Don't you dare let Branch's string tugging keep you
away from something that could be good and right and just what you need.

She wanted him to stay.

He'd told the DA they were dating. It would look a little strange
if he rushed off while she was in her sickbed. He hadn't even had the chance to
find out how Oscar was doing.

He could get a motel room tonight. Hell, he could stay at her
place. Maybe that's what he'd do. He could straighten up for her, snoop around
some. She'd certainly done her share of snooping on the
Miss Behavin' II.

He didn't have to see Branch again.

He didn't
have
to leave. Not right now. Not before he got
the answers he'd come looking for in Brazos Bend.

"Okay. Good. That'll work." With the decision made and
the weight off his shoulders, Luke parked his truck at the curb outside
Maddie's and started looking for his dog on foot. He walked up and down the
street, calling and whistling, until a sporty BMW pulled up alongside him and
said, "Sin?"

He recognized the voice before the man. "Austin."

"I hope you're not roaming the streets looking for Jerry
Grevas."

"I'm looking for my dog." He gave a quick description of
Knucklehead, then asked, "Have you seen him?"

Austin winced. "Actually, I have. Sorry, Callahan, but I
called animal control on him. We're strict about our leash law here in Brazos
Bend. They picked him up twenty minutes ago."

"Well, crap. Where do I go to spring him?"

"We have a new facility. Tell you what. Get in. I'll take
you."

Luke sauntered around to the passenger side and climbed into the
car. Always happy to multitask, he'd use this opportunity to grill the district
attorney about the drug trade in this town. First, though, he asked about Jerry
Grevas. "I trust that by now, y'all have him locked up where he
belongs?"

'"Fraid not." Austin grimaced and jabbed at the car
radio, switching it off. "Guy's disappeared. He's not at his house, not at
his father's place. Not at any of the bars he's been known to visit. That's why
I'm out. We don't have a lot of manpower to put on this, so I was hoping I
might spot him."

Luke dragged a hand across his jaw. "That's not the news I was
hoping to hear. Anybody try the lake place?"

"Yes. Chief Harper sent a car out there shortly after I spoke
with you. No sign of him."

The DA turned a corner, and Luke caught sight of the animal
shelter half a block ahead. "You might wish you'd thought this out better,
Austin. This is a nice ride, and Knucklehead's... well, he has his name for a
reason."

Rawlings laughed. "I'm a pet lover. In fact, once we pick up
your dog, I need to go by Maddie's on a pet patrol." He jerked a thumb
over his shoulder. Luke glanced into the back seat to see a goldfish swimming
in a clear plastic bag half full of water.

"Is that Oscar?"

"Oscar Two. I'm afraid Oscar One didn't survive Jerry
Grevas."

Hmm. Luke took a minute to digest this bit of news. "Since
when is it the DA's job to resupply fish to crime victims?"

"Since he took said victim to the Valentine's Day dance at
the country club."

Really. Well, wasn't that an interesting bit of news? Maddie
hadn't mentioned Austin Rawlings in her rambling about the men in her past.
Luke recalled that Austin was a widower, having lost his wife in a car accident
a couple weeks before the Callahan brothers returned to Brazos Bend for John's
memorial service.

Jealousy tweaked at Luke. Of course the Golden Boy would ask out
the prettiest girl in town. Hell, nothing changes.

Knucklehead was sufficiently grateful at being rescued from the
pound that he lifted Luke's spirits. Luke spent the ride back to Maddie's
trying to save the goldfish from the hound, so he managed to slip in only a few
questions about a drug problem in Brazos Bend before they turned onto Maddie's
street. "There's my truck," he said, pointing toward the Ford.
"Appreciate the ride, Rawlings."

"No problem. Although, I was hoping we'd have the opportunity
for that talk."

Yeah, Luke wanted a conversation, too. However, first things
first. "Tell you what. Let's get Grevas off the streets, then I'll buy you
a beer."

"You planning to go looking for him?"

"Doing my civic duty."

Austin Rawlings leveled a stern look at Luke. "Look,
Callahan, don't go acting cowboy. If you see Grevas, call it in. Don't try to
apprehend him yourself."

"Wouldn't dream of it." Luke's idea was to beat him
senseless, then haul him down to the police station and dump his ass on the
cold, hard floor.

Luke followed Knucklehead into the truck cab and started the
engine. Knucklehead stuck his nose into the air conditioner vent while Luke
turned his mind to his former occupation and tried to think like a drug dealer.
Then, applying his occupational knowledge to his hometown memories, he pulled
away from the curb and went to work.

He visited a park in the older section of town, then a supermarket
parking lot not far from the high school. He talked to teens and adults and
even some children. No one could give him a bead on Jerry Grevas.

Hours passed and evening deepened to night. Sometimes he crossed
paths with the cops; other times, they appeared to follow him around. Once an
hour, he called the police chief for an update before phoning Callahan House to
clip out his question regarding Maddie's status to his father. By God, if she
wasn't up and on her feet by tomorrow, he'd hire someone to stay with her and
answer his calls so he didn't have to talk to the old bastard.

Luke's investigation was slowed from time to time by a few friends
and plenty of not-so-friendly acquaintances who stopped him either to welcome
him back to town or to suggest he mosey on down the road. Brazos Bend citizens
had long memories, and they'd yet to forgive him for his part in the boot-factory
fire.

When thinking like a drug dealer failed to pay off, he tried to
think like an accountant instead. He visited the library and a copy place
without results, then abandoned logic and just went with his gut. Luke stopped
by all the places he and his brothers used to hang out. He tried the bowling
alley, the Dairy Princess, the liquor store where the owner used to misread
their IDs.

The liquor store took him on a trip down memory lane, so when Luke
left there, he instinctively drove out to the lake and the scenic overlook that
served as Brazos Bend's version of Lovers' Point.

Surprisingly, he found the place deserted. He shut off his
headlights and cut off his engine, then climbed from the cab and walked toward
the edge of the rock cliff. Man, had he and his brothers had some wild times
out here. Booze, sex, crap games in the dirt between the protruding roots of a
sixty-year-old pecan tree. It had been party central for a time.

Some of the memories left him overcome with shame.

He'd been a jerk at fourteen. A full-fledged asshole by the time
his father sent him packing at seventeen. What kind of man would he have become
had his father not kicked him out? Would he be worth a damn?