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“That’s Rob for you,” I say. “Sounds like the perfect pairing, if for one night. That’s usually the way Rob operates.” I crane my neck past him and spot a shadow on the couch. “I shot Nikki a text with the details we gleaned. I told her to stop dry-humping Rob’s leg and get back to work. His dog was getting jealous.”
“Sounds like you were getting jealous.”
“Rob’s like a brother to me.” I look over his shoulders and, sure enough, there’s a man wobbling on the couch. “Who’s the guy you were ripping a new one?” I squint past him and stop breathing because I suddenly recognize the man. It’s the guy from the street. The homeless man rifling through the trash that we saw driving up Main Street. “Stone, what’s going on? Do you need help with this? Is this one of your cases?”
“It’s one of my cases, all right.” He takes a moment to glare at the man. “In fact, he’s like a brother to me.” He frowns my way. “Because he is my brother.” He takes a step back, affording me the full view and the stench hits me ten times as hard. “Jet, get to your room and pass out already. I’ve got company. Take a shower, would you?”
The man rolls off the couch and stumbles in my direction long enough to lift a hand my way. He’s tall, thin, gaunt face, pale, hair is dark and mussed, not as much of it as Jack has. He mumbles a few words before making a beeline for the back and disappearing down the hall.
“I’d invite you in, but I need to air the place out.” He nods to the wraparound porch and I follow him over to the back side where there’s a row of cushioned gliders, a small table, and a firepit in the dirt that divides the cabin from the lake.
The water takes my breath away. And here I thought I had a view.
Pine Ridge Lake takes center stage as it stretches out before us like a painting, like a postcard we’ve suddenly found ourselves immersed in.
“I take it you didn’t eat,” he says, fiddling with his phone.
“My mother wasn’t there. Rob was turning the place into a soft porn theater. And to be honest, I was a little concerned about why you sped out of there as if you just committed a bank heist. So no, I didn’t eat. Although I did work up an appetite. Walking home sounded easier than it was. I must be out of shape.”
“It’s hot out,” he says, wagging his phone my way. “I just ordered us lunch. Hope you don’t mind, I just doubled my usual. It’s the least I can do after what you just witnessed.”
“And what exactly did I witness?”
He shifts his gaze toward the water. The stretch of sand is nicer on the other side of the lake, and from our vantage point, the throngs of people gathered there look like ants. There’s a marshy patch that runs through Whispering Woods, and I’d say that’s a good thing. More peaceful that way.
“Baxter, my family is a nightmare that you don’t want anything to do with.”
“If we’re going to work together, I need to trust you. And for me to trust you, I need to know what makes you tick. And if you’re living a nightmare, I’d say that ticking sounds a lot like a bomb. Fill in the blanks so I don’t have to.” He lifts his chin, his gaze still set on the marine blue of the water. “Tell me what’s going on. We can do this the easy way or the hard way. The hard way takes my time away from the case.”
He tips his head to the side. “Far be it from me to do that. Just remember you asked for it.” He sighs hard and offers a broken smile my way. “Once upon a time, my mother had a stable marriage to a wonderful man—a tax attorney who worked closely with the IRS. They had two kids, boy and a girl, two dogs, and a white picket fence.”
“Sounds lovely,” I say. “What went wrong?”
“My father injected himself in the picture.” His lips twitch side to side. “Technically, that’s not right. He was in the picture all along. He’s the attorney’s brother.” He shakes his head. “My mother dumped her husband for the bad boy version of him, his kid brother. Younger by years, dumber by miles. My dad was into everything he could get his hands on, dope, booze, coke, girls. He was a hedonist, capital everything. They started messing around, and she got knocked up.” He points to himself. “My uncle caught them fooling around, grew concerned that the baby might not be his—that none of the kids might be his. My mother didn’t even fight to keep their marriage together. She took the kids and moved in with my dad. My uncle divorced her then took off for who knows where. His parents were already dead. Her parents disowned her.”
The sound of footsteps distracts us as a young man trots over and hands a bag of food and drinks our way. Jack thanks him and he takes off.
“Hot pastrami okay?” He hands me a sandwich wrapped in butcher paper along with an ice-cold soda. “Sorry, I should have asked before I placed the order. My brain took the easy way out.”
“It’s perfect, and thank you.” I take a long swig of my drink before returning my attention his way. “You don’t have to go on.”
“We’re just getting to the good part. Besides, it’s not a secret. Nikki and Hale know. It is what it is.” He tips his head back a moment. “Ah yes, my dad couldn’t hold down a job to save his life. Soon after I was born, he discovered the joys of heroin. As for my mother, she had a big group of friends, each one was a hooker. It took me a while to figure out how she kept the money rolling in. All she seemed to do was go out with her friends in the evenings.”
My stomach knots up just hearing it.
“And well, my dad did his best with day labor when he could get it,” he continues. “We were living in downtown Elmwood. Satin’s Armpit was the affectionate name the locals gave our strip of town.” He shrugs. “I didn’t know better. I didn’t know anything else. Money grew increasingly tight. We were falling woefully behind on the rent. I started working when I was fourteen. I gave my parents my entire paycheck. It didn’t take long for my dad to dig into what little I was contributing in order to support his habit. My brother had already dropped out of school by then and was well on his way to becoming a full-fledged alcoholic. My sister took off to live with friends, the smartest thing she ever did.
“And then two things happened at once. My mother found a new circle of friends, a couple of men who convinced her to help them knock over liquor stores. It worked for about a week before she was arrested. The same night, the landlord had us evicted for nonpayment, and while the police were there, they busted my father for possession and hauled him off to jail. My brother and I were instantly homeless. No relatives to speak of, foster care was our only hope. And there was only one family willing to take in two older boys, the Deckers. I got the cat on my mother’s more recent stint in the slammer in case you’re doing the math.”
“I wasn’t. But that explains Mitch Decker,” I say. “The man you introduced as your brother.”
He nods. “And I do consider him that. I’m thankful to the Deckers. They took booze and instability out of our lives and injected God and a list of rules as long as my arm. I complied a little better than Jet. Not much better, though. But they were great influences. Jim and Sarah are my family forever.” He lifts his soda as if toasting them. “And that’s the end of the story.”
“Sounds as if it was just the beginning,” I say. “And look at all you’ve accomplished since then. Quantico? You’re the hero of your own story.”
“I wouldn’t go painting me with such a puritanical brush just yet.” He shoots a dark look out at the lake. “The devil was once an angel.”
“So you’re still harboring your fair share of dark secrets?”
