His investigation had stalled, and despite having no real deadline at all, his lack of progress irked him to no end. How difficult could it be to find a drug lord in a small town like Shallow Creek?
With one last thump, his dad inspected their handiwork intently, and then departed from the front door without so much as a nod. Brendan hadn’t expected a fanfare or anything for his assistance, but a simple gesture of appreciation would’ve been nice. Darryl Rhodes had never possessed a warm personality, but his frigid behavior towards Brendan left the young man at a loss.
He wandered into the kitchen and washed his hands in the sink. His mother rolled past behind him in a flurry of culinary prowess as she gracefully slid an unbaked pie into the open oven. Over his shoulder he saw her effortlessly flip the door shut and then she was off to her next domestic conquest. A smile creased his lips as he grabbed a glass of water and sat down at the kitchen table.
“You’ve had a rough day, son.” His dad appeared from the other end of the kitchen. “Why don’t you take a load off?”
The man paid no heed to Brendan’s glare as he reached into the fridge to grab a beer. Without another word, his father walked by and planted his ass back in the recliner facing the TV. Brendan had put up with some shit from his dad before, but never had the old man got his blood up like this. His fingers ached, and a quick glance showed white knuckles choking the life out of the thick glass in his hand. Delving down somewhere deep, Brendan sought out some calm place where his jackass of a father couldn’t reach him.
“Hun, can you help me sweep the kitchen?”
His mother was holding a broom towards him when he opened his eyes. Sweeping didn’t sound like a bad idea. Menial labor always had a calming effect.
“Sure, Mom.”
The kitchen didn’t take long, so Brendan passed through the front and back entrances to the house, picking up all the crud from the window repairs. Finished with that task, he took up a position at the kitchen sink to help his mom out with the dishes.
“Oh, you don’t have to do those, honey,” his mom said, directing him out of the kitchen.
“Yeah, honey, get your hands out of the damn sink and get a job,” his father said as he materialized, reaching into the fridge for another beer.
“I don’t need one.”
“Oh really?” His dad set the beer on the counter just a bit too hard. “So you’re just going to bum off your parents, after ignoring them for years?”
Brendan met his dad’s icy stare. “I sent you letters—”
“Were the damn phones broken on base, wherever the hell that was?”
His father stepped around the counter and took a couple of steps toward Brendan. His mother stepped between them as that all too familiar tension built in the muscles across Brendan’s shoulders.
“Darryl—”
“Can you believe the nerve of our son, just showing up out of the blue expecting handouts?” his dad bellowed at her. “That’s not how I raised him.”
“I’m right here.” Brendan’s teeth clenched involuntarily. “How about you say what you need to say. To my face.”
His dad gave him one icy look before walking away.
“Yeah, walk away and ignore the problem,” Brendan called out, knowing it was a bad idea. “Is that the same way you treated Taryn when she became a junkie?”
Darryl Rhodes was in Brendan’s face in a heartbeat. Fists raised just a touch and chest puffed out, his father leaned forward. Rage started to take control in Brendan.
Go on, hit me. Give me an excuse.
Instead, his father spun and stormed to the bedroom, slamming the door as Brendan shook his head. A hand on his shoulder jolted him. His mother backed up a step, startled at Brendan’s reaction probably.
Holy crap, I was ready to punch out my own dad.
It was a sobering thought. The unbridled anger melted away slowly. He sat down at the kitchen table and squeezed his skull between his hands. His mother sat across from him and pulled his hands down. She had tears in her eyes when he looked up.
“I’m sorry, Mom,” he whispered. “I shouldn’t have said all that.”
“No, no. It’s nothing we don’t already know,” she said. “It’s just… it’s just hard to deal with.”
They both stared at the table for a full minute before Brendan changed the subject.
“Mom, if it’s just money he wants, I’ve got plenty to pay for rent, or food, or—”
“No, no,” she interrupted. “We don’t want your money, honey. Your dad just needs some time to get used to you being around again.”
That was an unexpected blow.
“What’s his problem?”
Her mind wandered for a moment before she said, “Why don’t you look up some of your old friends? Reconnect with some old memories.”
“You trying to get me out of the house?”
“Just trying to help.”
Brendan leaned back in the chair. “I don’t know anyone anymore.”
“What about Michelle? Or her cousin? You always liked Scott.”
This got a laugh out of Brendan.
“Are you kidding, Mom? You hated Scott. Said he was a bad influence.”
She smiled.
“Hun, I think you’re old enough now not to fall in with the wrong crowd,” she said. “Just look him up. It’ll give you something to do.”
At that, she got up and walked towards the bedroom. Brendan stood and went to his brother’s room. No matter what, that bedroom would never be his.
Moments later, he sat on the bed, staring at Michelle’s number in his phone. She’d probably have Scott Fisher’s number. Scott was her cousin after all. In high school, the guy had smoked weed with guys like Taylor Hunziker, so maybe Brendan’s mom had inadvertently given him a lead.
The nine digits glowed ominously, which was surprising since Scott had probably cleaned up like the rest of the high school screw-ups. No big deal, although, Scott was a couple of years older than Michelle and Brendan. That would make him the same age as Grant, which could make things uncomfortable, like everything else in the damn town.
Screw it. He had nothing better to do.
Chapter 11
Brendan liked to think of himself as a quick learner. Adaptable. That’s the word he’d use. He’d definitely need mental quickness if this upcoming encounter went as poorly as his first shot at being a detective. He’d shown up thirty minutes early to his meeting with Scott at Trish’s Place, one of the less seedy bars in Shallow Creek.
He was still nursing his first beer when Scott opened the door, pausing in the doorway to let his eyes adjust to the sudden lack of light. Brendan waved subtly, not wanting to look too ambitious. Scott nodded and sauntered towards the bar. Only then did Brendan notice the second figure in the equation.
She followed close behind Scott, a sly grin on her face as she took in the scenery. Brendan waited patiently for Casey’s eyes to meet his. Before they did, Scott directed her to the back of the bar, where a few guys did their best to suck at pool. Casey kissed Scott on the cheek and then breezed on by without so much as a glance in Brendan’s direction.
“Good thing I’m not the jealous type, am I right?” Scott asked, checking over his shoulder as he sat down on the stool next to Brendan’s.
“I guess so,” Brendan replied, watching the guys eye Casey as she bent over the table to line up a shot in the game she’d casually inserted herself into. The black leather pants certainly enhanced the view from Brendan’s vantage point.