The Keeper Page 10

  But Jack would.

  Looking first left and then right, they strolled up to Bobby Ray’s door and knocked. They didn’t look as though they expected a response, but were merely following orders. The two shared a look and the taller of the two shook his head. They turned then and made their way to the office. They were inside and back out in less than a minute, presumably because the attendant on duty didn’t have anything more to tell them than the last time they were here.

  Jack snapped a couple of pictures with his cell phone and noted the tag number so that he could find out exactly who they were. Once they were safely out of the parking lot, he went in to pay the attendant a visit, as well.

  The kid behind the counter was in goth dress with black eyeliner, black lipstick and unnaturally black hair. Parts of her face were pierced in places he’d never seen and he imagined would be intensely painful.

  “Those guys who were just in here,” Jack said, jerking his head toward the door. “Do you know who they are?”

  She picked up a bottle of black—surprise, surprise—nail polish and shook the bottle. “Don’t have a clue,” she said, managing to sound massively disinterested with those four words.

  “Have you seen them before?”

  She slid the brush over her thumbnail, but didn’t bother to look up. “A few times.”

  Damn, he’d lost a word. This was going nowhere fast. “Were they looking for Bobby Ray?”

  “Yep.”

  Down to one. He exhaled mightily. “Have they left a number or asked for a call if Bobby Ray shows up?”

  “Nope.”

  That was interesting. If his rent was up soon then, like Jack, they had to realize that the boy was going to try and come back for his stuff.

  “Those men want to hurt Bobby Ray,” he said, taking a gamble that this girl was merely feigning disinterest. Her hand had trembled across the second nail and she’d spread paint over the edge of her finger. “They beat the hell out of him with a bar of soap shoved down into a sock about a month ago.”

  The poor kid. Once he’d explained who he was and why he was interested in knowing exactly what had happened to the boy, the nurse he’d confided in at the hospital had pulled the file, opened it to the correct page and then conveniently left to go see about another patient.

  By the time she’d returned, Jack had been gone, but the information he’d seen there had been enough to make him sick to his stomach. A Good Samaritan had brought him in. His back and abdomen had been covered with bruises, the deep-tissue kind that were intensely painful and long to heal. Contrary to popular belief, a sock beating would leave bruises and it hurt like a bitch.

  A reaction at last. She looked up. “It was them? They’re the ones who did that to Bobby Ray?”

  Hmm. He took another chance. “Were you the one that took him to the hospital?”

  She swallowed, seemingly unsure.

  “I don’t want to hurt him,” he said, hoping she believed the sincerity in his voice. “I want to help him. I don’t know what he’s gotten himself into, but he clearly isn’t able to get out of it alone.”

  And Jack did want to help him. Regardless of whether or not the boy had anything to do with what was happening to Mariette, he still wanted to figure out what was happening with Bobby Ray and try to make it right.

  For whatever reason, because there certainly was no physical resemblance, Bobby Ray reminded him of Johnson. Different boys, different backgrounds, but there was a similar kind of core, an essence of something good. Given the kid’s history, Bobby Ray should have been in prison by now. But he wasn’t. He was working, supporting himself. Trying. Against all odds and virtually any hope, as far as Jack could see.

  That took courage.

  And as far as Jack could tell, the first people to ever pay the kid a kindness were Audwin and Mariette—he’d never had anyone who had his back.

  Furthermore, if he was involved—and Jack still believed that to be the case—then he suspected Charlie was right, that he was desperate.

  The girl was thoughtful, stared at him, more than likely trying to decide if she trusted him or not. “They’re coming back tonight,” she finally said. “They’re going to rent the room next to his.”

  And wait him out. Shit.

  And he’d come back, Jack knew. He’d have to. Everything he owned was in that little room. A precious little by the world’s standards, but it was all Bobby Ray had. Obviously, Jack would need to see about protecting it.

  So the first order of business was to get the kid’s stuff out and eliminate his need to return. “Can you let me into his room? I’ll pack up his stuff and make sure that he gets it.”

  She was shaking her head before he even finished. “Look, I realize that you’re probably the lesser of two evils, but I can’t just give you access to his room and let you take his things.”

  “Then I’ll pay you to do it,” he said. “The most important thing is to keep him from coming back here. They’re going to jump him if he does.” He paused. “I suspect the first beating was a warning. This one…” He purposely left the sentence unfinished so that she could complete the thought herself. “You can figure out a way to get it to him after all of this is resolved,” he said. “Meet up with him somewhere else, a place of your own choosing.”

  She nodded. “I’ll do that. But you don’t have to pay me. I like Bobby Ray.” Her direct gaze was a bit unnerving. “He looks beyond the surface of things. Sees what’s on the inside and judges that for himself. You’ll let him know I’ve got his stuff?”

  Jack nodded, thinking that looking beyond the surface was a lesson everyone—himself included—could stand to learn. “I’ll get word to him and tell him to call you. They don’t appear to know where he works,” Jack told her. “If you do, then keep it to yourself.”

  She nodded.

  “Do you know why they’re looking for him?” he asked.

  Once again, she hesitated. “I have my suspicions,” she said.

  He waited, letting her make up her mind.

  “I don’t know who they are, but I know who they work for,” she finally told him. “A guy everyone calls Uncle Mackie. He’s a bookie.” Her lips twisted bitterly. “And once you’re on his hook, you’re never off it.”

  Jack had pretty much worked that out for himself. He’d ruled out any kind of drug-related trouble because, despite being terrified, the kid’s eyes had been clear. Furthermore, Audwin wouldn’t have tolerated it. Audwin trusted him with the truck, after all, and if the old man suspected the boy was using there was no way in hell he’d let him drive.

  He nodded, made sure to look her in the eye. “Thank you.”

  “Don’t let anything happen to him,” she told him. “He’s a good guy.”

  Jack thought so, too, but one who’d let a bad decision take him down a road that could get him seriously hurt and put the ones he cared about in equally serious jeopardy.

  Hopefully he could prevent that.

  “BOBBY RAY, YOU’VE GOT a visitor,” Audwin called, poking his dark gray head around the door.

  Bobby Ray felt his knees weaken and his stomach roll. Oh, God. They’d found him. He didn’t know how, but they had. His mouth went bone-dry. “Who—Who is it?” he asked, terrifie
d to the bone.

  “It’s Jack Martin, that friend of Mariette’s. Said he needs to talk to you.”

  Not any better, really, Bobby Ray thought miserably. But he didn’t think he’d try to hurt him here, anyway. It would look odd if he refused to see him, so he couldn’t do that. Feeling only slightly less nauseous, Bobby Ray wiped his sweaty face with the back of sleeve—he’d had to turn his shirt inside out to hide the dirt—and made his way to the front. He found Jack Martin with a booted foot propped up against the fence, looking at some cows. He’d chosen a spot a bit away from the office, Bobby Ray noted, and couldn’t decide if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

  He twisted the brim of his hat nervously in his hands. “You wanted to see me?”

  Jack Martin turned, his eyes assessing. “Those thugs who are chasing you and roughed you up last month are renting the room next to yours tonight and they’re not going to leave until you show up.”

  Shit. Bobby Ray didn’t know what was worse—that this man knew his business or having Uncle Mackie’s men parked next door to his room, preventing him from returning so that he could get his things. He didn’t have much, really, but there were some pictures of his mother that he couldn’t bear to part with and a few of himself before the scars. He liked to look at those. To imagine how life might have been different if he’d never gotten them. Though he had plenty of memories before the scars, he’d taken them for granted, had taken being normal—looking normal—for granted, as well. People either stared as if he was an exhibit in a freak show, or wouldn’t hold his gaze. It was awful.

  “Geneva is collecting your things and getting them out before they return,” he continued. “She said for you to call her and she’d meet you somewhere.”

  Still reeling, Bobby Ray nodded. “All right.” Geez God, how did he know all of this? Why had he bothered to find out? And what had he said to Geneva to get her to help him? Geneva was more distrustful of people than he was, and that was saying something. He liked her. She was kind and had pretty eyes.

  “I work for Ranger Security,” Jack told him, answering the bulk of his questions with that one admission. “I’m providing security for Mariette until the break-ins at her shop are resolved. We have an agent covering her during the day and I’m there at night. All night,” he added, shooting him a look. He heaved a sigh. “Look, Bobby Ray, I know that you’re somehow connected to this. I don’t know how, though I think I have a good idea why, but I know it all the same. Whatever it is that you’ve gotten yourself into, I can help you get out of it.”

  Bobby Ray snorted before he could stop himself. Yeah, right. All he was trying to do was trick him into confessing and he’d be in cuffs so quick his head would spin. And once he was behind bars there would be no getting out. He didn’t have money for bail, no one to call. Once Audwin knew he’d taken some of his coins, he’d lose his job and the old man’s respect. He’d be disappointed and angry. And Mariette… She’d never forgive him for hitting her.

  And why should she, really? It’s not as if he deserved her forgiveness. He should probably just give up, Bobby Ray thought. Stop running and let them do their worst. It was only a matter of time before everything blew up, until the whole damned thing came to light.

  He’d almost rather be dead.

  “You’ve got people who care about you, Bobby Ray. Whatever it is that you’ve done, it can’t be unforgivable.”

  If only that were true, Bobby Ray thought. And he genuinely wished he could believe it. That he could confide what he’d done, why he’d done it and figure out a way to make amends. But that would not resolve the Uncle Mackie issue and his so-called debt would continue to build. He’d never be free of him.

  “How much are you into Uncle Mackie for?”

  Bobby Ray looked sharply at him and at the look, Jack Martin merely smiled. “Here’s my theory,” Jack told him. “I think your first bet made you believe that you’d hit a lucky streak and you thought you’d found a way to make some quick, easy cash.” He gestured toward the farm. “This is honorable work, but it’s hard and the pay can’t be that great because of Audwin’s overhead.”

  Bobby Ray swallowed.

  “You weren’t so lucky with your next bet, or the next and, ultimately, by the time you knew what had happened, you were in way over your head and Uncle Mackie had you right where he wanted you—into him and afraid. See, I know Mackie’s game,” Jack remarked. “Bookies like making easy money, too, and if they can charge exorbitant interest and fees on unpaid debt and then scare you into finding a way—any way—to pay it back, then they’ve got a golden goose, a veritable endless ATM machine. You,” he said significantly. “It’s my suspicion that you’ve taken something from Audwin and he hasn’t figured it out yet. And whatever you’ve taken, you’ve hidden in one of the butter loaves. But you lost track of one—the one you needed—and have decided that it’s at Mariette’s. I think you panicked when she caught you and you threw the rolling pin meaning to scare her away, but not hurt her.”

  Bobby Ray’s heart was pounding so hard he was afraid it was going to race right up his throat.

  “Here’s my plan,” he continued. “When I go back to Mariette’s, we’re going to take every remaining block of butter in her fridge and melt it down until we find whatever it is you’re looking for. And when we do, your jig is up. This is all coming to a close, anyway, Bobby Ray. I can help you,” he said. “You go ahead and come clean now and we’ll sort all of this out. I’ll personally back Uncle Mackie and his goons off you and make sure that, as far as they’re concerned, your debt is paid.”

  For the briefest second Bobby Ray was tempted to do exactly as Jack Martin said. He painted a pretty picture of redemption and escape… But, ultimately, Bobby Ray knew he was here to do a job and his job wasn’t to save his skin—it was to save Mariette’s. He might have figured everything out, but he didn’t have any proof. And until he had proof, Bobby Ray had time to try and sort things out himself.

  When it became clear that Bobby Ray wasn’t going to say anything, Jack sighed. “The hard way, then? I figured as much.”

  He reached into his pocket and handed Bobby Ray a wad of folded bills. Bobby Ray looked down and shock detonated through him. They were hundreds.

  “Find somewhere to sleep besides your car,” he said. “You look dead on your feet, probably from constantly looking over your shoulder. And pick a motel with laundry and room service. A little sleep, some clean clothes and a decent meal will do you a world of good.” He handed him something else. “Here’s my card. Call me if you change your mind. My cell is on there. No matter what happens, the offer stands, kid.”

  He clapped him on the back and then turned and walked away. Bobby Ray stood there for what felt like an eternity looking at the money that had just been put in his hand.

  For the first time in his life he genuinely didn’t know what to think.

  “Why are you doing this?” he hollered to Jack’s retreating form.

  Jack paused, seemingly looking at something that Bobby Ray couldn’t see. “Because it’s the right thing to do and I don’t think people have always done the right thing by you,” he said. He paused. “And you remind me of someone.”

  10

  “HEY, JAY,” MARIETTE heard Jack say from her vantage point in the kitchen
.

  “Jack!” Livvie all but shouted. “Do you like chocolate?” she asked.

  “I do,” he told her, sounding only marginally startled at the out of the blue question.

  “Good, ’cause Mariette made some special ones today, only she wouldn’t let me have one. I don’t know why. I’ve been good and only had one cookie.”

  Before this could deteriorate any further, Mariette hurried forward. “I’m making special ones for you, too, Livvie,” she said, slinging an arm around the girl. “Come with me, please.” She steered her toward the kitchen. “I’ve got a special job for you.”

  Predictably, Livvie’s eyes lit up. The word special always had that effect on her. It made the car commercials—who were always having “specials”—particularly entertaining for her. Mariette shot Jack a significant look and jerked her head toward the kitchen, silently beckoning him to follow her. She was so glad that he’d gotten back in time to see this.

  Looking intrigued at her admittedly odd behavior, Jack followed her around the counter and into the kitchen. “You are going to be so glad that you got here in time,” she said, practically bubbling with expectation. She turned to Livvie. “I want you to take these to Charlie and Jay. Jay gets the duck plate, okay?”

  Jack frowned. “The duck plate?”

  “It’s got a duck on it, see?” she said, a little impatiently.

  Livvie nodded. “Jay gets the duck plate. Charlie gets the flowers.”

  “Right. Once you’ve given them their plates, I want you to come back—right back—to the kitchen. I have another special job for you.” She pointed to a tray of un-iced sugar cookies. Icing cookies was one of Livvie’s favorite things in the world to do. “You’re going to take care of those for me, okay? We’ll call them the Livvie Specials.”

  She clapped delightedly. “Livvie Specials! I like that!”