Here Comes Trouble (6 page)

She grabbed the ravioli, sans spinach, and carried the plate to her impatient diners. Should she confront Chase about a possible theft? Would it be out of place for her to do so? Even though she’d never had a problem speaking her mind, something told Lacy to keep her mouth shut about this. Chase probably wouldn’t appreciate her sticking her nose in his job. With an apology about the spinach, and an “enjoy your appetizer,” Lacy placed the dish in the middle of the table. Relatively sure her diners were satisfied for the time being, she decided to take a quick break to eat.

Grabbing her brown bag dinner from her shoebox-size locker, she headed outside to the back of the building. The cool, quiet night of the outdoors beat out the stuffy, small break room. Whenever possible, Lacy ate her meal outside to get a reprieve from all the noise and heat. The time to herself gave her a moment to think about her next drawing and how to go about showing her work in a gallery. Art had always been in the back of her mind from the time she’d been about ten. As a child, she’d take her mind off her father’s whereabouts by day dreaming about working in a fancy studio and selling her own paintings. Why did she have to go and loose her scholarship? She could have used the degree to get a job in Los Angeles or someplace more promising than this. By her second semester of her sophomore year, all the studying and work hours had been more than she could handle. Her grade-point-average had slipped below a 3.5, and the university had taken her scholarship away. Ray certainly hadn’t had any money to support her college education and her father had slipped into whatever hole he frequented. When she’d called Ray to tell him, he’d said something along the lines of getting herself a full-time job so she could afford to stay in her little apartment. That’s what she’d done. She’d applied at several art studios, hoping to get her foot in the door. Unfortunately for her, none had been interested in a kid with no art experience and no college degree. So she’d taken a job as a receptionist at a local law firm. That job had only lasted about a year before she moved on to a customer service representative for a credit card company. Needless to say, Lacy had a track record of hopping from one job to the next. Two years at McDermott’s was, so far, her longest stay with an employer.

It’s not like she had an inability to commit. Really, she didn’t. After a while, she just started to feel restless with her current occupation. Like there was something better waiting for her somewhere else. She supposed that was her old man’s “
The Grass Is Always Greener
,” motto coming out in her. Thanks a lot Dennis.

Lacy stuffed the last bit of her sandwich back in the bag as a white station wagon pulled into the parking lot. The headlights almost blinded her when the car stopped at the opposite corner of the building. The lack of light made it hard to see, and she was too far away to identify the driver. Not that she thought that much about it anyway. People pulled in and out of the parking lot all the time. She had just reached into her lunch bag for the apple she’d packed when one of the waitresses came out of the back door and walked to the station wagon. A white plastic grocery bag, filled with something dark, swung heavily from one of the girl’s hands. Lacy recognized the short dark hair and realized it was Jessie. The high-school student almost never worked on a weeknight, so Lacy had no idea what she was doing there. The driver of the car rolled down the window as Jessie approached. She said something to the other person, then handed the plastic bag through the window. It was virtually impossible for Lacy to tell the contents of the bag, but whatever Jessie had in there was big. Lacy tried not to stare. She bit into her apple and fixated her gaze on the ground in front of her. Why was she so suspicious? Just because a few items had gone missing didn’t mean the waitress was sneaking food to her cohort in a white station wagon. Could be a dinner. Could be clothes. She could be returning something she’d borrowed. Not everyone was a dishonest thief like her father. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Jessie lean through the open window and kiss the driver. Lacy didn’t know Jessie that well, so she didn’t say anything to the girl when she went back inside the restaurant.

The car, which had a high-pitch squealing sound, made a u-turn in the parking lot, then left. Lacy discarded half the uneaten apple in her lunch bag. Jessie seemed like a nice, honest person, certainly not someone capable of stealing.

She stood, tossed the brown paper bag in a garbage can nearby. But the girl hardly ever worked on a weeknight, and there just happened to be food missing from the fridge. Should Lacy voice her concerns to Chase? No. There was no need to get Jessie in trouble for something that could be completely innocent. Besides, Chase was busy enough without listening to Lacy’s cooked-up suspicions.

When she walked back into the kitchen, she spotted Chase on the other side talking to Henry. Henry spoke, gesturing with his hands, and Chase had his arms crossed over his chest, giving Henry his complete attention. He looked especially good in a white dress shirt and tan colored slacks. He nodded at something Henry said while glancing around the kitchen. His gaze connected with hers and that familiar heat warmed her from the pit of her stomach to the top of her head. He didn’t smile at her, but this wasn’t unusual, he often didn’t, at work. Instead, his blue eyes briefly lowered to her mouth before he nodded again at Henry. Chase said something to the chef before walking out of the kitchen.

She noticed a stiffness to his shoulders and the hard set to his mouth. He obviously had something on his mind. Lacy was no Sherlock Holmes, but she had a feeling whatever had the muscles beneath his shirt so coiled had something to do with the shortage of supplies. Her mind returned to what she saw with Jessie and the station wagon. On the surface, the scene seemed innocent. Something told her, however, to keep a closer eye on the waitress until she had solid evidence to bring to Chase.

****

Absolutely nothing.

Nothing suspicious, head scratching, or even remotely nail biting on the numerous hours of footage. The only weird thing he saw was Phil talking to himself in the fridge.
 
But Phil was kind of a strange guy anyway, so Chase didn’t give the scene a second thought. None of the waitresses or chefs had displayed any behavior that would demonstrate dishonest activity. And he couldn’t think of anyone who would steal from the restaurant. More and more Chase leaned toward Henry making a mistake with the inventory count, although the man rarely did so. There was always the possibility of human error. For now, he’d tell his father nothing came up and to dismiss the incident as an unfortunate error.

With a sigh, he withdrew the disc from the DVR and set it on top of the others he’d already watched. The monotonous task of viewing hours of footage had been the equivalent of watching paint dry. Chase was glad to be done with his father’s little project. He only hoped now the old man would let the whole thief-thing go. The only satisfying thing had been catching glimpses of Lacy. Her black and white, fuzzy image flitted from room to room, her slim hips gently swaying beneath her pants.

Even though she couldn’t stand him, Lacy was a good waitress. Her big, bright smile and soft laugh made the wait staff like her and made her customers feel comfortable. Chase hadn’t expected her to last this long at McDermott’s. He knew Lacy lacked staying power. So far, she’d hung on for two years, showing up for every shift and occasionally covering for another waitress on her nights off. That’s what he called dedication.

Lacy wasn’t what he’d consider a raving beauty; her looks were very average. Although, her hair was always shiny and soft-looking. She was a little on the pale side, but her skin did have a creamy glow. And she wasn’t as tall as he liked his women, but she did look like she’d fit perfectly with her head on his shoulder. Why did he constantly think about her? It’s not like he lacked in the sex department; Chase could get a date anytime he wanted. No, something about Lacy intrigued him. Her sassy mouth and inability to succumb to his charm drew him to her unlike any other woman. Lacy had always intrigued him but only recently had he thought about her in a sexual manner. Before she’d left town he’d never noticed the sway of her slim hips, or her full mouth. Or how her green eyes lit up when she fought with him, like she enjoyed the challenge of provoking him. And she had this scent that lingered like a fog whenever she walked passed him. Sort of like a vanilla-orangey mixture. The smell made him want to yank that hair-tie out to see if her hair smelled just as good.

Chase wondered if any other man had told her these things. Lacy was the type of person who didn’t respond to flattery. Her cynical mind wouldn’t allow that.

He walked into his adjoining bathroom and splashed some cold water on his face. Boy, would he love to be the guy to flatter a smile onto those sexy lips. Which would probably be followed by a punch to the shoulder. Lacy was damn cute when pissed.

“Knock, knock.”

Relief had him slumping his shoulders when the voice belonged to his brother older
 
brother Noah instead of their father. Chase patted his face dry with a paper towel and walked back into his office.

“Why aren’t you at home with your wife and baby?” Chase tossed the damp towel in the garbage and looked at his big brother. Noah and Avery had been married for about two years. Six months ago Avery had given birth to a little girl named Lily. She had her mother’s dark hair, her father’s gray eyes and was just about the sweetest thing Chase had ever laid eyes on. One of his greatest joys in life was spoiling the little fifteen-pound bundle of cuteness.

Noah glanced at the stack of tapes on Chase’s desk. “I had a late meeting and thought I’d stop by.” He jerked his head toward the tapes. “What’re you doing, watching home movies?”

Funny. “No, uh…” It was probably safe to tell Noah about their father’s paranoia. “There’s been some things missing. Dad thinks someone’s stealing. He wanted me to watch the tapes so I can catch the thief red-handed.”

Noah must have caught the undertone of sarcasm on Chase’s voice. Both Noah’s thick, dark brows lifted. “No kidding.” He ran a hand along his scruffy chin. “What kind of stuff is missing?”

Chase lifted his shoulders in a weary shrug. “Food.”

One corner of Noah’s mouth lifted. “Why do I get the feeling you don’t agree with Dad?”

“It’s not that I don’t agree with him, I think he’s jumping to conclusions. Henry’s the one who realized the steaks were missing. I just think he made a mistake.”

Noah nodded and slid his hands on his pockets. “Why makes you think Henry made a mistake?”

Chase perched himself on the corner of his desk. “There’s nothing suspicious in any of the footage,” he said, gesturing to the stack next to him.

“But you did it appease Dad,” Noah concluded with a knowing nod.

“Exactly.”

Noah chuckled. “I gotta go so I can kiss my daughter good night before she goes to bed.” He turned to leave but stopped himself. “Oh hey, Avery’s throwing a welcome home party for Courtney next month. Clear your schedule, because you’re expected to be there.”

A smile crept up his mouth at the mention of his sister. “I wouldn’t miss celebrating Courtney’s college graduation, considering how long it took her. Besides, Avery throws one hell of a party.”

Noah, who always had an ear-to-ear grin at the mention of his wife, nodded. “Don’t I know it? Good luck with all that, by the way.”

Chase glanced at the tapes. “I’m not going to need luck because there’s nothing going on.”

His brother didn’t speak for a moment. He bobbed is head up and down. “Good luck anyway.”

Yeah, he knew Chase would need luck explaining that he thought his father was wrong.

Four

“
Where do you want this one?”

Lacy glanced up from the pile of Ray’s shirts she’d been folding, to Brody holding a big moving box. The side wall of Ray’s room was lined with boxes filled with his stuff.

“Put in the garage with the others.”

Brody hefted the box higher in his arms and carried it outside. It had taken her entirely too long to clean out Rays’ room. For the past year since his death, Lacy had been residing in her old room from high school, leaving Ray’s exactly the same. The only things she’d managed to do was change the sheets on the bed and run the vacuum a few times. Despite that, the room had developed an un-lived in musty smell, combined with the moth balls Ray kept amongst his clothes. She didn’t dare go into the bathroom because that’s where he’d spent the majority of the time coughing up blood and throwing up from the chemo treatments, although she had disinfected the area not long after he died. But the door had remained closed since then. She couldn’t bring herself to use it with a clear picture in her mind of him leaning over the toilet.

“What’re you going to do with all that stuff, anyway?” Brody came back into the room, wiping sweat off his brow with his forearm. With no air conditioning, the temperature inside the house hovered somewhere in the nineties. He’d discarded his shirt about an hour ago and sweat glistened his backside. No fair how men could just take their shirts off when the temperature rose too high.

She lifted her shoulders in a helpless shrug. “I don’t know. Ray didn’t have any other family so, I guess I’ll have to donate it all.” She gave him a sidelong glance. “Unless you want some of it.”

Brody eyed the shirt Lacy held up with something akin to disgust. “Uh, no thanks.”

“Oh, come on. Some of them aren’t that bad. What’s wrong with this one?” The shirt she picked up smelled like cedar and moth balls. The color was roughly the same shade as mud and could have been made out of the same material as a heavy drapery.