With a cloudy voice, she asked who he was. She seemed only vaguely worried that a strange guy had just burst into her bedroom.
“I’m Brendan,” he said, still staring at the floor. “Your brother.”
She shrieked joyfully as she flew from the bed and wrapped her arms around his neck. Not knowing what to do, he carefully pushed her hips back from his own and looked into her vacant, sunken eyes. These were not the eyes of someone so young. She’d lived some hard years. When she smiled, her yellow teeth looked rotten, and Brendan caught a whiff of something atrocious from her body.
Powerful arms wrapped around his chest from behind and plunged him backwards through the bathroom and into the living area. Brendan couldn’t regain his balance and his foe launched him backwards into a recliner, which flipped over with the impact, allowing Brendan to crack his head against the wall.
Before he could recover, the man lifted him up and slammed him against the wall. In the background, his sister’s screams arrested both men’s attention.
“Serge! Let him go!” she cried, pounding on the man’s back. “He’s my brother!”
Serge’s glare bored into Brendan’s eyes, and he didn’t dare blink.
“If I let you go, will you fight?”
Suppressing the burning desire to break this man’s face even more than he already had, Brendan shook his head. Serge slowly released him and backed away as Taryn lunged forward to embrace Brendan again. Without listening to whatever it was she was saying, Brendan eased her aside and stormed up to Serge.
“What the hell is wrong with her? What did you give her?” he demanded, pointing back at his confused sister.
“That’s not your business,” Serge said.
Now Taryn cautiously walked around next to Serge and clung to his giant tattooed arm.
“What do you mean, ‘What the hell is wrong with me?’” Anger creeped into her voice. “Just what the hell does that mean?”
“What is it? Coke? Meth?”
Brendan saw the slap unfurling both in his sister’s mind and then in her arm, but he made no move to stop the clumsy effort. She connected forcefully with his cheek before spitting on his shoes.
“Get the hell out of here and don’t come back.” She pointed to the open door. “If I want to see my judgmental family, I’ll just go to Mom and Dad’s.”
“But—”
“But nothing,” Serge interrupted, easing Taryn away gently and leaving an open path to the door. “I suggest you leave now.”
Confused and bitter, Brendan saw no other option. He couldn’t even meet his sister’s disdainful glare as he skulked away with his tail between his legs.
Chapter 9
“Hey, Brendan. Long time no see, man.”
Brendan looked up from the cup of coffee in front of him. Taylor Hunziker recoiled slightly at the sight of him.
“Uh, you don’t look so good,” Taylor said.
“I’m okay.” Brendan poked at one of the bruises on his face. “Go get your drink.”
Taylor hesitated, furrowed his brow a bit, and then proceeded to the Starbucks counter. The damn coffee chain was everywhere now, but Brendan had a bigger concern. Taylor didn’t look like the pothead he’d once been in high school, so it wasn’t likely he was still smoking. This guy was the only lead Brendan had found when he’d scoured his phonebook after his run-in with Serge earlier. The bungled break-in at his folks’ had rattled his sense of purpose slightly, but seeing his sister all screwed up on something had jolted him straight into top gear. It was time to sort this town out.
Taylor returned to the table with an iced drink of some description.
“I was kind of surprised to hear from you, man,” he said.
“Just looking up old friends since I’m back in town.”
Taylor squinted a little and scrunched his nose up like he’d just stumbled upon a three-day-old corpse in the Afghan heat.
“Yeah, about that,” he said. “I don’t remember being that close. Especially after the, uh, accident.”
The urge to lash out violently took a few moments to wrangle into submission. Why did everyone feel the need to bring up the fucking accident? The day that time had stood still in this shithole town.
The reason he had left in the first place.
“That was a long time ago.”
“Right, but don’t say I didn’t warn you. Some folk ‘round here have got a long memory.”
“That’s their problem, not mine,” Brendan growled, feeling dangerous urges. He had to get a grip; he had bigger problems to deal with. Taylor didn’t have anything to say to that, so Brendan switched gears.
“So you’re looking very clean-cut now,” he said, hoping the disappointment showed in his voice. “You quit using after high school?”
Genuine shock lit up on the guy’s face.
“You mean smoking? Shoot. I haven’t smoked since I met Lisa.” There wasn’t even a hint of paranoia or deception. It looked like this was a dead end.
“Good for you.”
Taylor smiled, but not very wholesomely.
“You looking to score some weed, bro?” he whispered, leaning across the small table. “I still know some people.”
Brendan pulled in close. “I’m looking for something a little stronger, if you know what I mean,” he said quietly. “Tony still around?”
Back in high school, Tony Maldini ran the drug trade for anything heavier than cigarettes, booze, or pot. Of course, back then he was moving mostly small amounts of acid and X. Brendan hadn’t partaken.
“Shit, uh, Tony’s in jail, man. Not sure how long, but it’s years.”
“What about his sidekick? What was that guy’s name?” Brendan asked, rubbing the fresh, tender lump on the back of his head.
“Rob Parsons? He’s dead, man.”
“Ah.”
Taylor shifted back in his chair, probably a little uncomfortable with the recent turn in the conversation. “Look, I don’t know what you’re into now, but I’m definitely out of all that.”
“I was just—”
“Yeah, I get it,” Taylor spat suddenly. “After all that happened, now you’re a junkie and you need a fix, so you figured you’d head back to Shallow Creek, where the meth flows like a freaking river. Is that it?”
Before Brendan could argue, Taylor shot up and leaned over towards him. “This town has enough problems without the likes of you.”
And he was off. Taylor threw the door open and hurtled towards his car. Brendan waited for him to clear the parking lot before exiting himself, kneading his throbbing head all the way to the door. In the reflection in the glass, he caught more than one pair of eyes watching him closely as he left. Apparently his undercover skills could use some work. His subtle snooping had failed miserably, and with the way people gossiped in Shallow Creek, half the town would know he’s a hardcore drug user by dinner time.
If a damaged reputation was the only injury he picked up on this mission, he’d be lucky. The image of his sister’s spaced-out face filled his head. It would all be worth it if he could do anything to help her out. No way could he walk away after what he went through in her trailer.
He walked across the parking lot and got into his truck, feeling a little stupid for running off his only lead so quickly. In fairness, this wasn’t exactly his strength. The Marines had taught him how to execute a more upfront style of investigation. Maybe he needed to stick to his guns, instead of politely asking ex-druggies lame questions.
First, though, he needed a damn bag of ice.
Chapter 10
The glass pulsed against Brendan’s hand as his dad gently tapped the framing nails back into the window trim. Not the kind of man who calls in a professional, Darryl Rhodes had decided that he and his son could easily fix all the damage done by the thugs, and mom’s shotgun, the previous night. Like most household D.I.Y. jobs, this one wasn’t difficult; it just took time. And time was something Brendan felt slipping away.