Concealed Affliction (6 page)

“I will Greta. And thank you all for stopping by. Take care of yourselves.”

They each give me a shaky hug before making their way down the driveway. As they walk away, Brock comes jogging up to the house. Greta eyeballs his tattoos in distaste, clearly assuming he’s a criminal. Kind Brock does his best to wave and smile at them, but sadly very little is returned.

“I don’t think your neighbors like me, babe,” is the first thing he says when he reaches my front step.

“Nah, they just associate tattoos with former prison inmates. Wear some more clothes next time, and maybe a pair of loafers.”

Brock’s deep laugh graces my ears.

“That’s not gonna happen.”

“Ya, I didn’t think so. What’s up? I wasn’t expecting to see you again.”

“I wanted to see if you were still here, and give something to you.”

I’m hoping it’s some of Sam's sugary sweets from the bakeshop, but he pulls a piece of paper out of his pocket.

“Two things actually. One is, Vinny from the gym just split with his woman so he needs a place to stay. You mentioned the lease on this place not being up, you find anyone to take it over yet?”

“No. I stopped by the leasing office yesterday and they said I could pay them to look after it until they found someone to take over the lease. No calls yet on them finding someone.”

“Okay, well if you want you can tell them Vinny will take it over.”

I sigh in relief, thankful that one obstacle can be taken care of.

“I don’t care who takes it over Brock, I don’t like the idea of paying them extra to look after this place.”

“It’s settled then. If you want to give them a shout when I leave, I’ll send Vinny over there to fill out the paperwork.”

“Sounds good. Now what’s number two?”

Brock reaches out and hands me the piece of paper.

“My buddy Denny finally called. You know, the one that went to work for Callaghan? He says he’s been working mostly out of Virginia, but moved down to Jacksonville last weekend. I told him I was going to give you his number, that way if you need anything and I can’t help out, he’ll be around.”

“I appreciate that Brock, but I’ll be fine.”

He runs his hand over his short blonde hair.

“I’m sure you will Elle, but piece of mind babe. He also offered to continue my training with you, if you’re up to it.”

That is one of the things I was going to miss most about not being here anymore, and to be honest I look forward to keeping up with it at home. So long as I can connect with this ‘Denny’ person, and not leave him bleeding on the floor like I did when I first met Brock.

“Thank you Brock. I’ll be honest though, if I don’t feel comfortable with him, I won’t be able to train with him.”

Brock looks at me with soft eyes. He understands. I knew he would.

“I get that babe. But I’m being honest when I say Denny is one of the most solid guys I know. He may come off as a miserable bastard, mostly because he is, but he would do anything to protect the people around him. He’s a good guy, Elle. Ryder gave the boys a week off, so my guess is he’s drowning in whiskey and women right about now, but I told him you’d get in touch with him next week if you were interested.”

I didn’t catch much beyond ‘
Ryder gave the boys a week off
’. I’m too busy wondering why he’d be off on a job by himself, while his men are obviously living up their vacation time.

“He gave them the week off?”

Brock looks at me skeptically before responding.

“Yes. Ryder told Denny and the boys there was no work this week and to take some time off before they start some training shit near the base in Jacksonville. You alright babe?”

No, I’m not alright. But I’m not about to tell him that. I could very well be jumping to conclusions, but one would think he would want to be here, ripping that band aid off with me and sending another one of his cronies to do the job.

“Ya, all good. I just have a lot of shit on my mind, and more packing to do.”

I know he can tell I’m not being completely honest with him and I hope he doesn’t push me to answer. We don’t talk about our personal lives so I see no reason to start now.

“Told you not to bullshit me, Elle. But if you don’t want to talk about it, I won’t push.”

“Thanks.”

He braces both hands on the doorway and leans in.

“But if you need help to pack, I’m here. Unless Ryder’s helping you, not sure I need to spend more time with him.”

I know they have a mutual dislike for each other. They both share a small amount of respect for what the other man does for a living, but that’s where it ends.

“Ryder took most of my shit when he left this morning.”

This perks Brocks ears up and he’s quick to come back at me.

“Why was he in such a hurry if the boys have the week off?”

I don’t feel like lying right now, even though I’m damn good at it. If Ryder is up to something, I need to know about it. I could ask him, and I will when he gets back. But to say I’m intrigued as to why he ran off for work when the rest of the crew has time off would be an understatement.

“Job in Chicago.”

Brock stares at me for what feels like an hour before he finally speaks again.

“Not going to tell you how to live your life, not that you’d listen anyway. But something doesn’t sit right with me when it comes to him. I know as far as Denny is concerned, he assumed Ryder was still here with you. The only reason he knows that is because he’s tight with the tech guy on their crew whose job it was to track you down.

“I’m all for a man tracking down the woman he loves, but babe, something is not right there. Not sure what, but do me a favor and keep your eyes wide open.”

His speech makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. I know this feeling, it’s like the calm before the storm. Soon enough, the proverbial shit will hit the fan. Not often is my gut feeling wrong, I knew something was up with Ryder this morning.

Not wanting to deal with this any longer, with Brock no less, I change the subject.

“I need to get back to packing Brock. But I promise you, I’ll keep in touch and keep my eyes open.”

My answer seems to placate him enough that he reaches out and pulls me in for a hug.

“You do that babe. Then you put Denny’s number into your phone and call the rental office for Vinny.”

I give him a quick squeeze back before letting go.

“I will. And thanks.”

“No need to thank me. Safe travels babe.”

He puts his fist out for a bump, which I reciprocate, before he leaves.

I watch the man who’s taught me more than I will ever be able to thank him for walk down my driveway. I’m left hoping to hell that moving back to North Carolina doesn’t come back to bite me in the ass.

* * *

“Come on Norm!”

I holler from where I’m standing near the truck. We pulled off the highway in West Virginia so I could stretch my legs and Norma could get some exercise. I wandered around for what must be half an hour by now, watching her sniff around the trees and drink from a small pond near the rest station.

There are a few other families milling about. I’m thankful this rest stop includes a canteen, so I grabbed Norm and I each a burger when we got here.

Double patties for my healthy girl, single on mine
.

I’ve wandered aimlessly just watching my dog and thinking about Ryder’s trip to Chicago. I texted him when we left this morning, but I’m not sure if he got it because he never responded. I understand he said he would be busy with work, but I can’t help but wonder why he’s off working with some mayor when the rest of his guys are supposedly boozing it up in Jacksonville.

He has no reason to lie to me, or at least I don’t think he does. I just can’t shake the feeling that something is off. I’m not often wrong when it comes to my gut feeling either. Something’s not right, and it hasn’t been since he woke up yesterday morning. I think about the effort he put into searching for me when I first left, and it calms me a little. That is until I think about how he hasn’t contacted me since he left, especially after he made such a big deal of finding me in the first place.

I’ve never been one to worry or over-analyze anything, but this new life of mine causes me to do both of those things. I can’t stop now because it’s what’s kept me alive this long.

After my thirty or so minutes of wandering around, I come to the conclusion the only way I am going to get answers is if I ask him. Knowing that’s not something I want to do over the phone, I get Norm in the truck and continue my trek toward the cottage. It’ll be late when we get home, even though we got on the road after dawn. I’m emotionally and physically exhausted.  I know it’ll be straight to bed for me when I get there. Hopefully tomorrow my head will be clearer.

Chapter Five

“Jayne, it’s me, Mrs. Anderson.”

At least she knocked this time before she came in. Yesterday when I woke up in this lumpy hospital bed the snooty bitch was perched on the chair beside me, hoping for a chat. Having never met the woman in my life, it would be a huge understatement to say that I was pissed to wake up finding a stranger not only staring at me, but touching my arm.

After the hell I’ve been through this past week, you’d think that a psychiatrist of all people would understand my need for privacy. You would also think she understands the concept of space, meaning I don’t enjoy strangers being within touching distance, and I don’t appreciate being stared at.

I told her all this, along with a few carefully added curses which ended up being something like “don’t look at me, don’t sit near me, and definitely do not fucking touch me.”

Her voice pulls me out of my thoughts from yesterday’s encounter.

“Jayne, how are you feeling today?”

She doesn’t wait for me to ask her if she’d like to join me, but wisely she sits near the wall opposite my bed a good ten feet from me, not that I want her in the room at all. I also don’t want to speak with her, so I keep my eyes trained on the window overlooking the parking lot. Not that I can see it, being that the bed is down flat, but it’s the same thing I’ve been staring at for two days. Why change now?

“Jayne, other than your outburst with me yesterday, your doctors and the nurses mentioned that you haven’t spoken since you were brought here. We know that although there’s swelling in your neck and around your vocal cords, they are still functional. I’d like for you to use them today Jayne. The police will be here again soon, and it’s my job to make sure you’re in the right frame of mind to speak with them.”

I remain silent.

What is there to say? I don’t want to talk about what happened to me, I don’t want to talk about the weather and I have absolutely no desire to get to know this cold woman in a business suit in front of me.

She told me yesterday on her rant after I told her to get out, that she’s been the psychiatrist on call for this hospital for years, and basically that she needs to find out whether I’m in my right mind, or if I need to be sent to the ward on the third floor.

At this point I don’t care where I am, or what I’m doing. I just want silence. Peace and fucking quiet. Mrs. Anderson gets up out of her chair. Her dark hair is graying. Too much Botox leaves only her eyes and mouth to judge her mood by. Her grey suit is crisply pressed, more like something a lawyer would wear.