Three strikes, p.6
Three Strikes, page 6
“Doog used to say that he had sex with Maggie.” Lincoln frowned. “I didn’t believe him. He lied about everything. I mean, the kid used to say that Elvis was his father.”
Audrey remembered that. She also knew that kids with developmental issues sometimes had sexual ones as well. Duger hadn’t normally been violent, but he could be. If he’d had sex with Maggie, he could’ve thought it was consensual. It might have even been consensual. Maggie wasn’t always picky. “Is he still living over in Eastrock?”
Lincoln nodded. “He’s got a trailer in Happy Valley.”
“Maybe I’ll go talk to him. He might know something helpful.” Trying to find Mackenzie’s father was going to be difficult, so she’d take even the slightest shred of gossip or hearsay as a place to start.
Jake gestured toward his brother with the knife. “Don’t go warning him.”
Lincoln held up his hands. “I didn’t warn you about Ratchett—you think I’m going to warn fucking Doogie about her?” He lifted his chin in Audrey’s direction.
Audrey shook her head and reached for her cell phone. She called Mackenzie and got the girl just as she was leaving her cottage. She said it was no problem to pick up Alisha and that they would be there in a few minutes. By the time Audrey hung up, Jake had Lincoln frying bacon and the griddle heating for pancakes.
Brothers. They were even stranger creatures than sisters. She didn’t think she could make Jessica pancakes after finding out her sister had planned to blackmail her.
“Dwayne Dyer used to hang out back there with Barbie,” Lincoln commented as he turned sizzling strips of bacon with a fork. “The two of them have been off and on for twenty years.”
Audrey nodded. She knew them both. Barbie was Wendell’s daughter. Twenty years ago she’d been the prettiest girl in Edgeport. And last Audrey had heard, Barbie and Dwayne were on again.
“There was that kid who died,” Lincoln continued. “I didn’t talk much to him. And Aaron Patrick. Oh, and your brother-in-law. He used to stay at Aaron’s camp with him, I think.”
Of the guys he’d mentioned, Greg was the only one Audrey was certain couldn’t be Mackenzie’s father. He was the most decent guy she knew. But why hadn’t he mentioned having known Maggie back then? “And those are just the young guys,” she lamented.
Lincoln shook his head. He’d tied his hair back when Jake made him start cooking. “One night when Mags and I were together she told me there were two men she despised in Edgeport when she was a kid—other than old Clint. Those were Everett Graham and Bertie Neeley.”
Everett Graham made sense—he was Neve’s father, the cop who had arrested her and Maggie for Clint’s murder—but what was up with Maggie and old Bertie? He was just one of those old guys who probably had a job once—and a family—but lost them both due to their love of the bottle. He always seemed to have money and get by, though no one seemed to have any idea how he earned his keep. Audrey had never been a big fan of the guy, who always seemed to be either in love, or picking a fight with her father, but he’d never done anything terrible that she knew of.
She hadn’t known Maggie was pregnant, though, so what she knew amounted to shit. She added Bertie to the list of people to talk to. It had suddenly gone from no names to a slightly daunting list.
Mackenzie and Alisha arrived almost ten minutes later. There was less than a three-year age difference between them, so they were chatting up a storm when they walked in. Alisha had that effect on people. She was a bubbly, curvy blonde who seemed to find joy in almost everything, despite having a friend who had committed murder, and having been the target of a serial killer. Audrey hoped she never lost that joy. It would be a sad day if she ever did.
Alisha flew at her as soon as she crossed the threshold, wrapping her arms tightly around Audrey’s waist and squeezing like she never wanted to let go. Audrey hugged her back, blinking away tears that threatened. It had only been a few weeks since she and Jake rescued Alisha from a killer, but it felt longer because after what happened, Yancy thought keeping Lish away from her was the best course of action.
“Mom says she wants to talk to you,” Alisha said softly, for Audrey’s ears alone.
Audrey arched a brow. “Do you think that’s a good thing?”
Alisha nodded. A small smile curved her pink lips. “Uncle Jake and I have been wearing her down.”
Audrey wasn’t so sure that was a good thing, but she’d pop back to Yancy’s place when she got a chance.
The five of them ate breakfast together. Lincoln was just a little flirty with Mackenzie, and managed to come off as only slightly skeevey. Mackenzie laughed it off but gave as good as she got. After they were done and all the dishes were in the dishwasher, Lincoln and Jake took Alisha home on their way to pay a visit to Ratchett. Audrey and Mackenzie left Mackenzie’s car at Jake’s while they drove to Eastrock, the next town over, to get the girl some groceries.
The Hannaford in Eastrock wasn’t terribly big when compared to what Audrey was used to in LA, but it served the needs of Eastrock, Edgeport, and Ryme, the three small towns that made up the immediate area. Edgeport was in the middle. Each town had a school to serve the area, with Edgeport covering the middle school grades. Eastrock was the largest of the three, and had the high school, but even then it only had a population of approximately 1,900 people.
It was easy to tell Mackenzie hadn’t spent much time on her own yet, because her small cart was full of things like Pop-Tarts, ramen, potato chips, and diet cola. Audrey was hardly in a position to criticize, but she was not going to let the kid leave the store without a few healthy choices.
They were in the ice cream section, where Audrey had decided to stock up, when they ran into Jessica, whose cart was decidedly more full. Audrey introduced the two of them, then Mackenzie excused herself to peruse the selection of Häagen-Dazs.
“No kids today?” Audrey asked her sister.
Jess shook her head. “Greg took them to visit his parents.” It was no secret that Jess and her mother-in-law often butted heads, so it was not a surprise that she hadn’t gone with them. She glanced at the girl, who was just out of earshot. “Wow, she really does look like Maggie, doesn’t she?”
Audrey followed her gaze. “Yeah. She has quite a few of Maggie’s better qualities.”
“That must be a little sad for you.”
Her throat tightened at her sister’s astuteness. “Yeah, but kind of nice too.”
“I know this horse has been beaten to death already, but are you sure it’s such a great idea to go looking for her father? I mean, we both grew up here—we know there’s a very good chance that whoever her father is, she’s not going to be happy to find him.”
“Probably not. But she wants to know where she came from, and I can’t deny her that. I’m just hoping that it’s someone around our age, not some pedophile.”
“Wouldn’t we know if he was? I mean, that’s the kind of stuff that gets around.”
“If he was pervy? Probably. Which makes me think it was someone young. He might not even know he has a kid. Maggie kept it pretty quiet. We might not find him, but I owe it to Maggie to try.”
“I’m not sure you owe Maggie anything.” Her sister had once suggested that Maggie manipulated Audrey into killing Clint. Audrey thought it was a nice try on her sister’s behalf to excuse what she’d done, but she knew herself. Maggie might have pointed her in the right direction, but it had been Audrey who picked up that door stopper and took a swing.
Jessica grabbed two containers of ice cream that were on sale from the freezer and turned her attention back to Mackenzie, who hadn’t found what she was looking for, apparently. “She’s pretty.”
“Yeah. I feel like I should know who else she reminds me of, but all I can see when I look at her is Maggie.”
“Mm.”
Audrey glanced at her sister. “Hey, Lincoln mentioned Greg used to hang out back the Ridge some when they were young.”
Jessica turned, a slight frown between her brows. “Yeah, I think he did. He was friends with Aaron Patrick, who had a camp back there. Why?”
“I wonder if Maggie ever showed up at any of their parties.”
“Probably. I remember her showing up at some of the parties I went to, but Greg and I didn’t run with the same crowds back then. I don’t imagine he knew her if he didn’t bring it up.”
“Aaron Patrick.” Audrey ran the name through her head. “Maggie talked about him. I remember her telling some girl that he was a terrible lay. The girl turned out to be his girlfriend. Maggie claimed not to know.”
The sisters shared a look that expressed what both of them thought of Maggie’s supposed ignorance. “It turned into a bit of drama, with Aaron talking smack about Maggie being loose or something. He said she begged him for it. Mags laughed. She said she begged him to stop—like it was a joke.” She frowned. “I wonder if she was joking after all.”
“It was a poor excuse for it if she was. But then, Maggie never was right. It’s this place, I think. There are some messed-up people in this town.” Her cell phone buzzed. Jess pulled it from her purse and checked the screen. “Dad. I should get going. He’s probably wondering where I am.”
“Probably. You know, there are fucked-up people everywhere,” Audrey reminded her. “It’s just that we know all of the ones here.”
Her sister smiled as she steered her cart away. “Know them? Sweetie, you’re one of them.”
CHAPTER FIVE
Lincoln didn’t want to go with him, and Jake wasn’t entirely sure he could trust his brother, but after cracking Ratchett’s knee the night before, he wasn’t stupid enough to confront the bastard by himself. He just had to hope Lincoln was more afraid of him than of the ex-con. Especially now that he knew Jake had no intention of paying the blackmail money. Frankly, the fact that Linc was still so nervous about confronting the other man made him cautious. Gran used to say that a little caution was good for a man—made him think before he acted.
“I need a shower,” his brother commented, sniffing under his right arm as they drove back the dirt road. It was in pretty good shape, but Jake would have to have it graded in the spring. “Can I use yours?”
“If you moved back into the apartment, you could use your own.”
Lincoln snorted. “No. It would still be yours. Besides, you don’t want me so close to your business. I might steal from you again.”
“Don’t talk to me like that was my fucking fault,” Jake retorted, his gaze on the road. “You’re the one who decided you were entitled to something.”
“I am. I should have gotten some of Gran’s money.”
“She left you money.”
“She left you more.”
Because she knew Lincoln would piss his portion away. “It’s not like she loved me more.”
His brother laughed. He knew what a lie it was. “Please. You were the golden child. Everyone knows you were her favorite.”
“What’s wrong with that?” he demanded as something snapped inside him. “Jesus, Linc—Dad doted on Yance, and Mom thought you could do no wrong. She gave me away, for fuck’s sake! Let me have Gran, okay? Fuck off and stop trying to make me feel bad for the fact that she loved me. I needed someone to.”
He felt the weight of his brother’s stare. He shouldn’t have said so much, but now that he had, he couldn’t stop. “She didn’t leave me the money so I could just sit back and enjoy it. She left it to me because she knew I’d build something with it. She wanted the Tripp name to leave a mark that was more than drugs and an old campground. If you want a piece of it, fucking step up and earn it. I’m happy to share it with you, but I’m not going to just hand it over because you don’t want to do the work. And just so you know, if anything happens to me, it all goes to Alisha.”
A breath of silence. “Okay,” Lincoln said. He didn’t seem insulted that Jake insinuated he might try to kill him for his inheritance. And then, “You know, Mom’s love isn’t all that great. Don’t wish for it.”
“I don’t.” Eyes on the road. Jaw tight. “I stopped that a long time ago.” That’s what he told himself, but it wasn’t the complete truth.
The rest of the drive to the resort was in silence. Not like there was anything left to discuss.
Tripp’s Cove was, in Jake’s opinion, one of the most beautiful places on earth, even in November and with the threat of snow. The grass was a yellowish sage but in spring would turn rich green. The beach was rocky—from small pebbles to huge boulders worn smooth by the tide. The main building on the resort side of the road looked welcoming but elegant, the grounds around it meticulously kept. He had a landscaping crew that came in once a week in the warmer months, twice a month in the down season. Every spring the building exteriors were washed down and repaired. The interiors were thoroughly cleaned after each checkout and routinely checked for any touch-ups or fixing. Jake was proud of what he’d built—and what Yancy helped him run and maintain. If he could share something like this with Lincoln … well, that would be good. He knew better than to get his hopes up, but he still had some.
They stopped by the office. Yancy was with a guest, so Jake checked the computer and found which cottage Ratchett was in. Number twelve, back a little farther in the woods. He and Lincoln could drive to it, but it was faster to cut through the woods on foot.
“Any jacking this season?” Lincoln asked as they traveled the path. As if on cue, the sound of a rifle shot echoed through the cove.
A twig cracked under Jake’s boot. The cold salt air turned his nose and cheeks red and carried with it the smell of snow. He glanced up through the fir and maples; the sky was a watery gray, and he didn’t need to check the news to know they were probably going to get hit by a taste of winter later that day.
“Not yet.” He hoped there wouldn’t be, but every year there was at least one idiot in town who decided chasing deer in a pickup late at night with a bunch of his drunken buddies armed with lights and guns was a good idea. It was illegal, and barbaric. Jake didn’t stand for it on his land, or anywhere else if he noticed it. He might not be a big fan of the cops, but he reported jackers. His father used to delve out hillbilly justice on them. One time when he was a kid a bullet had gone through a window of his father’s trailer, scaring him half to death. It had just missed him. When Brody Tripp and his mother had found out who was responsible, they paid the man and his friends a visit. Jake wasn’t sure what happened, but Salter deBaie was never able to shoot a gun again, on account of his mangled right hand.
“You’re really not afraid of Ratchett, are you?”
Was that actual respect in his big brother’s voice, or did Lincoln think he was stupid? “The only thing I’m afraid of is losing someone I care about. I’m wary of your friend.” He shouldn’t have admitted that much.
“He’s not my friend.”
He glanced at him. “Seemed to be when you first brought up what he knew about me.”
Lincoln avoided his gaze. That was usually a sign he was being sincere. He had no trouble looking you in the eye and lying. “Yeah, well, I was a dick. Has he gone after Kenny?”
Kenny Tripp, their cousin, was a guard at the state prison in Warren. He had been the one to facilitate the ending of Matt Jones. He was a good man who had owed Jake a favor, and Jake had taken advantage of the situation. Now he had to make this right before Kenny suffered for it.
Jake’s jaw tightened. “He’d better not.”
They came out of the woods—thinner for the lack of leaves—into a small yard. A beat-up half-ton sat in front of it. Jake wasn’t much of a snob, but he was glad the ugly damn thing was well hidden from the rest of the cottages. It was a faded gray, with one burgundy door, a Confederate flag in the back window, and one of those ball-sack things hanging off the trailer hitch.
“Classy,” Jake muttered as they walked around it. He gave the rubbery balls a sharp kick with the toe of his boot and watched them swing for a second before continuing to the cottage. He took the door key from his pocket. He should update to swipe cards—they were more secure than keys and their usage could be monitored. He didn’t need to spy on his guests, but being able to would be convenient in this case. He made a note to look into the cost later that day.
He knocked. No answer. No movement inside, but the window didn’t give him a full view of the place. He slipped the key in the lock and turned. The deadbolt thunked. He turned the knob and gave the door a careful push. Ratchett knew he owned this place, so Jake wasn’t going to take the chance that the asshole wasn’t waiting for him inside, just out of sight.
A leather jacket was slung over the back of one of the kitchen table chairs, and a big pair of biker boots, worn and scuffed, sat by the door. The faint, warm smell of woodsmoke clung to the air, though the fire in the small black stove had gone out.
“Ratch?” Lincoln called when Jake nodded at him. Silence. “Maybe he’s in the shitter.”
Maybe. Jake kept silent as they walked into the small hallway that led away from the living area. The bathroom door was open. A porn magazine—its pages curled from extensive viewing—lay on the floor by the toilet. The shower curtain was open.
He turned to the bedroom. This style of cottage only had the one, and it was the only room in which they hadn’t looked. He half-expected to find the bastard sleeping, but the door swung open to reveal a bed that hadn’t been slept in, though there was a large impression on the top blanket.
“He’s not here.”
“Outside?” Lincoln suggested. “Maybe he went to get more wood.”
Jake shrugged. Unlikely that the big man would be hiding from them in the woodpile, but it was worth a shot. They went out again, this time circling around back to where the wood for the cottage was kept. On the ground beside it was a small scattering of chopped pieces—as though someone had gathered an armload and then dropped it.
“What’s that?” Lincoln asked, pointing.
Turning his head toward the woods, Jake saw something big in the grass at the edge of the forest. Every step he took toward it deepened the feeling of dread brewing in his stomach, until he was finally just feet away and unable to deny what it was any longer.
