Chapter 15
Tessa
I reach for the coffeepot to top up my mug.
I’ve had a hard time shaking the lingering fear and haven’t slept a whole lot this weekend.
Even last night I’d doze off, land right back into the nightmare reel that has been playing on repeat in my subconscious since Friday, and caused me to startle awake again.
There’s nothing wrong with my imagination, which has had no trouble conjuring up every horrific scenario possible, when in the end it had been nothing but a rather innocent mishap.
“So the janitor locked them in?” Brenda asks.
I’ve been recounting Friday night’s scare. I guess she’d heard about it over the weekend and this morning accosted me in the small station kitchen when I stumbled in for my morning hit of caffeine.
“Yep. Remi and the girl wanted a quiet place to talk.”
I use air quotes, indicating that last comment is to be taken with a grain of salt, which Brenda was already doing, chuckling and shaking her head. I’m opting not to share poor Katie Van Buren’s name.
As it turns out, my son and this girl have been seeing each other on the sly.
The secrecy is because Katie has a very protective brother and strictly religious parents, who don’t want to see their fifteen-year-old daughter dating yet.
Katie—who plays soccer for the girls’ school team—suggested they meet in the equipment storage by the locker rooms, citing those were always unlocked.
They are during game days, but what she didn’t realize was the janitor secures those doors when he goes home, which is how they ended up locked inside.
She was so afraid of the consequences if they were discovered, she’d convinced Remi not to call out when people were knocking on the door, obviously looking for them. But he wasn’t able to hold back when he heard my voice out there.
Still, I felt for the girl when she begged for me not to contact her parents. They were out at a concert in Spokane, and she was supposed to stick close to her big brother. Of course, Jacob hadn’t exactly been looking out for her, since he just went home without her.
I ended up driving her home and had a little talk with big brother about the dangers of leaving his sister to find her own way home. I’m pretty sure he won’t be in a hurry to tell his parents Katie wasn’t waiting for him after the game.
“All’s well that ends well,” I conclude, “but I’m pretty sure I have gained a fair number of additional gray hairs after that.”
“I’m telling you; these kids age me faster than time can,” Brenda commiserates. “Chris messaged me last night saying he won’t be coming home next month, because he’s going rock climbing in the Grand Canyon with a couple of buddies.”
Her oldest, Christopher, is in his first year at NAU in Flagstaff, while the younger of her boys, Colby, is a year ahead of Remi.
“Why do these kids need to take crazy risks and terrify the shit out of their mothers?”
The question is rhetorical, so I don’t bother responding and nod in sympathy instead.
“Tessa?”
I turn to find Rick poking his head around the corner.
“Hugo wants to see us.”
“Oh, okay.”
I grab my mug and follow Rick to Sheriff Colter’s office, where Hugo has taken up residence while Savvy is still on maternity leave.
These Monday morning check-ins are nothing new. It’s usually just getting caught up on what happened over the weekend and planning the week ahead. However, when I walk into the office and Rick waits to close the door behind me, I get the sense this is not a standard weekly meeting.
“How are things?” Hugo directs at me, indicating one of the visitor chairs.
I sit down, and Rick takes the seat beside me.
“Fine,” I respond cautiously.
“I mean after Friday night’s mishap,” Hugo clarifies.
“It’s been quiet.”
“Good, glad to hear it.”
I glance over at Rick to see if I can get a read of what is going on from him, but he appears to be intently studying his fingernails. Or actively avoiding looking at me.
“What is going on?” I ask, addressing my unease directly.
Hugo nods with a grimace.
“Mancuso called this morning…”
I talked to Jason Mancuso over the weekend, he’d called to touch base after Friday night. The conversation was brief, and I told him I’d see him on Monday before I ended the call.
“And?” I prompt.
“He voiced some concern around your continued involvement in the case because of your personal connection.”
“Oh, come on,” I protest, but Hugo continues undeterred.
“And I agree with him. This is absolutely no reflection on your job performance, which has been beyond reproach, but about the ability to build a solid case that is airtight. Future prosecution could be compromised by your involvement, which any defense lawyer worth their salt would not hesitate to exploit.”
I open my mouth to object but immediately shut it. Because he’s right, and as frustrating as it is to have to stay on the sidelines, I don’t want to be the reason justice fails in the end.
“I’ve asked Rick to head to Spokane for the task-force meeting today, and I’d like for you to take over his cases. You have an hour to get each other up to speed and hand over your files. Use the conference room so you won’t be disturbed.”
My shoulders hang a bit as I walk out of his office and head for my desk.
Even though I rationally understand the merit of the decision, this still feels like I’ve been demoted.
The other thing is, I’m afraid to lose the inside track on what is happening with the investigation and get shut out.
Not that I have any reason to think Rick won’t be willing to share, but I don’t really want to put him in a difficult position either.
After all is said and done, I still have to work with the man.
On the plus-side, I’ll now have time to find the birthday cake Remi swore he didn’t want, along with any other fuss for his birthday. Typical teenage posturing—he’s too cool for that kind of stuff—but I also know he’d be disappointed if I didn’t pay his birthday any attention.
While I’m organizing my paperwork to hand over to Rick, I put in a quick call to Strange Brew with my fingers crossed. I should’ve ordered something earlier. Way to leave things to the last possible minute.
“Hey, Bess, it’s Tessa,” I greet Hugo’s wife when she answers. “Sorry to bug you, I know you’re busy in the mornings, but I have a huge favor to ask.”
“Oh, hey. What can I do for you?”
“It’s a big ask, and I don’t want you to think twice about telling me where to shove it, if you think I’m crazy, but is there any way you would be able to bake me your carrot cake?” I hesitate for a moment before adding, “Today.”
“Oh wow.” She snickers. “What’s the occasion?”
“It’s for Remi’s birthday. He loves your carrot cake. I’m sorry, I should’ve called before,” I apologize again. “I’m sure the grocery store—”
“Don’t you dare finish that sentence,” Bess interrupts. “If pick up after four this afternoon is okay, I can have it ready. I’ll gladly do it.”
“You’re a saint,” I tell her, to which she laughs and ends the call.
Depending on how my day goes, I can probably make it out of here in time to fetch the cake before picking Remi up from the firehouse around five.
Grabbing my haphazard pile off my desk, I rush into the conference room where Rick is already waiting.
Clem
“Happy birthday, kid.”
Remi rolls his eyes, but I catch a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as he strolls by me. His brother Linc follows a few steps behind him.
“I’m just dropping him off, and I’m here to see the infamous truck,” he explains in passing.
“Look for the potential,” I call after him, hoping he takes the hint and doesn’t burst his brother’s bubble.
As indifferent as Remi likes us all to believe he is, I have a sneaking suspicion his brother’s approval would mean the world to him.
Outside, I see a dark SUV parked next to Linc’s Wrangler, a figure behind the wheel.
The security detail. The back bay door is closed, but I know a similar vehicle is parked in the back lot.
It belongs to the Battaglia Security two-man team that showed up an hour ago.
One of the guys is in my office, keeping an eye on things in here and monitoring the cameras, while the other stayed outside.
Roy had been very helpful and agreed to have a team here for a couple of hours every afternoon and possibly next Saturday, should this drag on that long. He told me not to worry, that he’d done work alongside the FBI before and would coordinate directly with them.
When I asked him to bill me for the time, he suggested an hour-for-hour barter for work on his fleet of company vehicles, which was a deal I gladly accepted.
I turn and focus my attention back to the starter motor I’m replacing in an older Dodge Durango but listen to the boys talking with half an ear. Linc seems to have received my message and is complimentary, asking Remi a ton of questions about what needs to be done to get it ready for the road.
It’s gonna take a bit. Over the weekend I gave the bolts holding the Chevy’s engine in place an extra hit of lubricant, hoping that would be enough to loosen them.
If the kid can get those off, maybe we can lift the engine this afternoon.
I’m sure he’ll get a kick out of that. But it’ll only be the beginning of the ton of work that will need to be done.
It’s a while later, as I’m dropping the hood on the Durango, I catch Linc’s wave on his way out the door. The SUV follows when Linc drives his Jeep off the lot.
When I glance over at the Chevy, I notice Remi hanging into the engine compartment. He’s teetering on a couple of tires he stacked up to give him the added inches he needs to get better access to those bolts, but it looks like he’s struggling.
Kyle is just coming back in from moving the Nissan Acura he was working on earlier to a spot out front.
The owner is supposed to pick it up before five, as will the owner of the Durango I just finished.
We’re done early, and for once we don’t have a backlog of vehicles out in the lot waiting for service.
“Yo, Kyle, if you want, you can head out early, but can you move the Durango out front before you go?”
I toss him the keys and walk over to see what is giving Remi trouble.
“Need a hand?” I ask when I notice him trying to budge a stubborn bolt.
“I can’t move it,” he grunts through gritted teeth.
“Let me have a go,” I offer.
“It’s all seized up.”
“If it is, we’ll have to cut it, which isn’t a big deal, just a little extra sweat equity.”
He hands me the wrench and steps out of the way. It takes a few forceful jerks to get the first hint of movement in the bolt, before I hand the tool back for Remi to finish the job.
An hour and fifteen minutes later, we have the engine sitting on a floor jack and a thick block of wood under the oil pan. I could’ve left it on the engine hoist, but it has to come apart anyway, so this way is easier. It’s sitting in front of the pickup, leaving Remi enough room to work on it.
We stand side by side, both with our arms crossed as we scrutinize the different components.
“So what’s next?” I ask Remi, wanting him to take the lead.
“Take it apart, catalog every piece, and mark where it goes.”
“You betcha. Every little screw, bolt, and ring. Even the smallest part is essential.”
“I know,” he confirms.
“Any idea how you’re gonna keep them all apart?”
“We had color-coded bins at school. Each component had a different color and we’d keep the parts together in the bins.”
“Seems like a sound plan.”
I hear footsteps behind me and swing around, as I instinctively block Remi from whoever is approaching.
“What seems like a sound plan?” Tessa asks, a smile on her face.
“Color-coded bins for the different parts of the engine,” Remi answers, side-stepping me to see her. “Can we go pick some up?”
His mother seems to hesitate for a beat before she responds.
“Not right now. We have to get home so I can get started on dinner, but maybe another time this week?”
I can see the shutters slam shut on the boy’s face.
“Yeah, whatever,” he mumbles.
I side bump his shoulder. “You’re gonna have to come up with a whole lot more patience than that if you want to fix this truck, kid.
I’ve got a couple of empty bins upstairs you can use to get you started.
No need to give your mother a hard time, I think she’s put up with enough out of you for a while. Don’t you?”
His eyes dart from me to his mother.
“Sorry.”
It’s an obviously reluctant, half-assed apology, but I guess it’s better than nothing. Tessa seems accepting, as she gives his hair a lighthearted ruffle.
“Why don’t you wash up and grab your stuff?”
The moment he walks off, she turns to me, a serious expression on her face.
“Did I overstep again?” I wonder out loud.
“No,” she quickly answers, shaking her head. “I was about to thank you for diffusing what could’ve been a tense evening. It would’ve been a waste of the birthday dinner I have planned for him.”
“What are you cooking?”
“Nothing special, burgers, a quick potato salad, and carrot cake for dessert. All his favorites.”
“You baked a carrot cake?”
She throws her head back and laughs heartily. “Hell no. I don’t bake. I’m at best a passable cook. But I can grill like a pro, which is why my kids will always request some kind of barbecued meat.”
“Can’t argue that.”
She tilts her head, wearing a half-smile.
“Come. Come for dinner.”
“Tonight?”
“Yeah.” She suddenly turns around and yells at Remi, who is just exiting the bathroom. “Hey, Bud! I invited Clem over for dinner.”
His response is a dual thumbs-up.
Guess I’m having burgers and carrot cake tonight.