Chapter 10
I stood on the creaking front porch and hesitated.
I’d made the trip and still didn’t want to cross the threshold to the house I once called home.
Sleepy Hollow came by its name, honestly.
It was slow, quiet, and had completely bored teenage me out of my mind when we moved out here.
I stared up at the baby blue, two-story house and felt a looming dread pool in my stomach.
“Are you going to stand out there all day or come in?”
“Oh, leave him alone, Henry,” my mother chastised as she stepped to the screen door and smiled. “Hi, honey.”
I smiled despite myself. “Hey, Mom.”
She lit up and opened the door. Before I could say another word, she was in my arms. I hugged her back tightly and placed a kiss on the top of her head.
I easily towered over her now, making me want to look after her even more.
I had always been a mama’s boy, even if our relationship could be… difficult.
“It’s so good to see you! Why didn’t you call?” she asked, tucking a brown strand of hair behind her ear. “I would have had lunch ready for you.”
I waved a hand. “It’s not an issue, Mom. I ate before I came.” Her smile fell, and I quickly backpedaled. “But you know me. I’ll be starving again in twenty minutes,” I said, patting my stomach.
She lit right back up. “I’ll make you one of those huge grinders you like.”
My mouth watered, and I shook my head at myself. “I’ve missed the hell out of those. I’ll take one.”
I followed her into the house and closed the screen door behind me at the last second, making sure it didn’t bang shut the way my father hated.
Shuffling after her, I stepped into the living room, and nothing had changed.
My father sat in his chair, a stack of books beside him but his gun out in front of him on the tray.
He had taken it apart and was cleaning it when he glanced up at me.
“Tex.”
“Dad,” I said back, mimicking his deadpan voice. “What are you doing?”
“What’s it look like I’m doing?” he grunted.
He put the gun down and picked up his pack of cigarettes. I could already hear my mother groaning about the smell. He slid one out and stuffed it into his mouth before lighting it, and his gaze finally fell on me again.
“What do you need?”
I stiffened. “Can’t I just want to come and visit my family?”
He blew out a cloud of smoke. “No.”
He’s as lovely as always. I reached over and snagged one of his cigarettes.
He looked like he wanted to smack my hand the way he used to when I was a child.
Instead he simply grunted, let me take a smoke, and lit it.
Nicotine rushed through my body. I was able to breathe and push down the urge to shove him out of that chair and pummel him until he stopped being such a dick.
You know he’d kick your ass. He might be older now, but that man is strong.
That thought made me feel small beneath his gaze. As it always did. I blew out a cloud of smoke, glanced over my shoulder to make sure my mother was out of earshot and stared at the old man.
“I need some of your old case files on the Vitales. The chief has me working on them, and I figured you might have some things other people don’t. Notes, recordings, anything.”
He looked me up and down. “Leave it alone.”
“I can’t do that.”
“Yes, you can,” he said. “I doubt the chief has you working on anything like that. Do I need to call and ask?”
Suddenly I was transported back to being a kid, sitting in front of my father while he glared down at me and threatened to call my principal.
My shoulders tried to slump, but I shoved them back and held my head up.
I wasn’t a child anymore. His words didn’t have nearly the effect on me that they used to. Or at least I tried not to let them.
“This will help me make detective.”
“No,” he grunted. “It’s going to get you killed.” He shoved a finger in my direction. “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll drop this case and leave it the fuck alone.”
He reached for his cane and tried to pull himself up. I moved on instinct, standing up and running over to help him to his feet. What I got was a cane shoved into my stomach.
“Did I ask for your help?”
You never do, asshole.
“No,” I muttered.
“Then get the hell off me,” he said as he tried again and rose slowly, a flash of pain showing on his face before it was gone. “Anything else?” he asked.
“I still need those files.”
“Are you hard of hearing, boy?”
I gritted my teeth and ignored the urge to tell him to fuck off. “Nope,” I answered. “Just determined. You used to tell me I lacked ambition and wouldn’t get anywhere in life. Now I’m trying, and you’re shutting me down.”
He glared at me. “Look at my leg,” he snapped as he tugged up his pant leg and showed me the dark, knotted mass of flesh that remained even after all the surgeries.
“This is what happens when you mess around going after mobsters. And I was the lucky one, unlike my partner, who’s six feet deep and rotting in a pine box,” he snapped.
“So when I say no, I mean no. Find a different way to make detective. I’m not helping you. ”
My face grew hot as my jaw tightened. “Why do I ever expect you will?” I snapped back. “You didn’t help back then, and you don’t help now. Let’s be honest; the only thing you care about is yourself.”
“You have five seconds to get out of my presence before I knock you on your ass.”
We stared each other down, but I was the first one to cave. I turned on my heels, cursing myself out as I walked away like a little punk. I moved to the door, and my mother cut off my retreat.
“Oh, don’t leave, Tex,” she said softly. “I know your father’s cranky, but that’s just because of his leg,” she said, trying to reassure me. She reached out and rubbed my back. “Won’t you stay for dinner? Maybe spend the night for once.”
My heart clenched, and shame settled on my shoulders. I felt bad not staying around for her, but I couldn’t stand being around him. On top of everything else, he’s robbing me of my mother. The thought made the heat rise in my chest again. I glanced toward the living room.
“Sorry, Mom, but I’m working a lot lately,” I said, which wasn’t a complete lie. “I can’t stay the night. Maybe we can grab something to eat one day.”
Her smile faltered, but she pulled it back into place. “Ah, okay,” she said, lifting her head and shaking off the sadness I saw in her eyes.
“Kate!” my dad bellowed, swallowed by a litany of swears.
“I better help him. He’s probably ready for his nap,” she dusted her hands off on her apron and pointed a finger at me. “Do not leave until I finish your sandwich.”
I smiled at her. “Okay, Mom.”
She jogged to the living room and cooed to calm my father’s irritated tirade. I could hear them traveling up to the second floor and shook my head. The old man was too stubborn to downsize and get a house with one story, so, of course, it was mom’s responsibility to help him out.
The sound of their footsteps faded as they went to the bedroom. I took the opportunity to jog down the basement stairs and walked to his office. The door was locked, but a quick walk over to the shelves and a dig around in the jars and I found the key. He always thought it was such a clever spot.
I slid the key inside the lock and let myself into his office.
There were stacks of files in boxes, but the most important ones were in the filing cabinet.
Out of the two of us, he was the organized one and as much as I hated that shit when I was younger, right now I was grateful for it.
I opened a drawer, flipped through the files and found the one I was looking for.
Vitale.
I snagged my phone and laid out the papers one by one. Carefully, I took pictures of each one, trying to keep them in the proper order. Front and back, I recorded every bit of information that I could.
“Tex?”
My heart raced as my mother called me. “Coming!” Shit, not enough time.
I quickly gathered everything up and stuffed some files into the back of my jeans, tugging my shirt over them. I shut the drawer and locked the door to the office. When I emerged to the main floor, my mom was frowning.
“What are you doing down there? You know how your father gets about the basement.”
“Yeah, I was looking for some of my old stuff.”
She looked me up and down. “Yeah, well, there’s still a ton down there. Are you going to go through it anytime soon?”
“Soon,” I promised as I followed her back into the kitchen. “I need to get going, Mom.”
“Are you sure? Just stay for a little while.”
“I really need to get to work.”
She sighed. “You never stick around. I wish you wouldn’t take off so quickly.”
I wish you would protect me from him more. Or at least stand up for me. The words set heavy on my tongue, but I couldn’t bring myself to say them. She was a good mother, and I knew she’d done the best she could, but when it came to my father she cowered. And part of me hated her for it.
“Don’t forget your food,” she said. She wrapped up the sandwich and then opened the fridge. “I made some chicken the other day too. And veggies. Here, take all of these.”
I let her load my arms up with containers, effectively building a wall between my hurt and her shame.
If all we focused on was food, the weather, the job, and every other trivial matter in between, then we would never have to talk about the chasm of pain that grew between us and threatened to swallow us whole.
* * *
“You sure you don’t want to come out tonight?” Rourke asked.
I stared through my windshield at the place in front of me. How long had I been waiting? There was a slight cramp in my legs, and my stomach growled. I reached for the sandwich my mom had made and took a huge bite out of it.
“Nah,” I mumbled. “I want to sit at home, relax, and do nothing.”
“Fine,” Rourke said. “Make sure you stay out of trouble.”
“When do you ever know me to be in trouble?”