Secondhand Sinners (2 page)

CHAPTER TWO

Miller

Miller Anderson stared at the piece of notebook paper with
‘
Birthday Party Invites’
written in his thirteen-year-old’s handwriting at the top. He gripped the edges of the white-tiled kitchen countertop and took a deep breath before yelling for his daughter. “Abigail!”

She didn’t answer him.

He sighed, reached for his phone, and sent his daughter a text to tell her to take her earbuds out of her ears.

Abby shouted down from her room, “Yeah, Daddy?”

“Get down here!”

Miller put the plate of pancakes on the table next to the syrup. He knew when Sara left that being a full-time single parent would be tough, but he never considered the amount of emotional energy it would take to love his daughter the way she needed to be loved. The mental focus it took to have a conversation with her was physically draining. He felt like a washed-out batter at the plate, in a full count stand-off against a younger, quicker pitcher with a wicked fast ball and a mean hard slider. But he could only get a piece of the ball, so he just kept hitting foul after foul after foul. One mistake and he’d be out.

When Abby rounded the corner and bounded into the kitchen, he fought to hold back a smile. She may not have looked much like her mother, but there were moments–like now–when she glanced at him with wide eyes, that he thought of her. Now that enough time had passed, he enjoyed these brief glimpses.

“First medicine, then food,” he said as she was about to sit down.

“Oh yeah.” She pulled her prescription bottle from the cabinet by the sink and took a pill from it. After she popped it in her mouth and swallowed, she opened wide to show him it was gone.

“All right. You can eat now.”

She curtsied. “Thank you, kind sir.”

“Okay. Now. Would you care to explain this?” He held up the piece of paper.

Abby cocked her head, her long blonde ponytail swinging like a pendulum. “It’s the list you told me to make for my birthday party.”

“This list has boys on it.”

“Yeah. Believe it or not, Daddy, I know a few boys.” She sat at the table and put two pancakes on her plate. “You know, you really should make these with whole wheat flour.”

“More than a few from what I can tell by this guest list.”

“And some turkey bacon.”

“Abigail.”

Abby rolled her eyes and slapped her fork down. “If you didn’t want me to have friends who were boys then you should’ve sent me to an all-girls school in the Alps.”

Miller sat down and put four pancakes onto his own plate. “Why the Alps?”

“Because of all the layers and thick clothes.”

“What does that have to do with your birthday party?”

“Duh. You said I could have my party at the pool in Blue.”

“Oh no. You’re not going to parade around a pool half-naked so a bunch of boys can ogle you.”

“Even if I go to the pool with my girlfriends, there will still be boys there. Unless you want to stand at the gate and shoo them all away.”

“Now there’s an idea.”

“Daddy, you are so weird. I’m not going to go make out with some guy in the deep end. I swear it’s like you don’t even remember what it’s like to be a teenager.”

“I remember what it’s like. That’s why I’m so worried.”

“That’s so gross.”

“Just finish your breakfast. We have a date, remember?”

“Oh that’s right.” Her eyes widened. “We’re going riding today.”

After breakfast, Miller backed out of his gravel driveway and headed toward the main house where Violet Collins, his employer, lived. As he pressed his worn-out boot to the worn-out accelerator of his worn-out truck, he wondered how many more times he’d have to drive that worn-out path. At least until Abby was out of high school. He didn’t mind working for Violet. Despite being on-call twenty-four/seven, it was the perfect set-up. He got cheap rent and a decent wage to do a job he loved with hours flexible enough to be able to be around for his daughter. It was the dread he hated. Ever since Violet’s first brush with death, he knew it was inevitable that Emily would come home one day. He even found himself checking the license plates on all the cars in town for a Texas plate. Texas meant Emily. Emily meant trouble.

When they reached the big house, as the family called it, Walter, Violet’s oldest son, was smoking a cigarette on the front porch.

“Hey there,” Walter called out as Miller and Abby climbed out of his truck. “What do you have on the work order for today?”

“I’m going to check the back fences this afternoon.” Miller adjusted his green faded baseball cap and looked out onto the morning sky. “Right now Abby and I are gonna take the horses out for a ride. You’re here early.”

Walter took another drag from his cigarette. “I got called out here in the middle of the night.”

“You guys bring Violet back from the nursing home or something?”

“Nah. There was trouble out at Levi’s. He and Norman got into some kind of a ruckus. Norman’s in a coma. Levi’s in jail.”

“Levi’s in jail?” Abby gasped.

“Holding him on attempted murder. Police are still out there so you might wanna steer clear,” Walter said, putting out his cigarette and going back into the house.

Abby tugged on Miller’s arm. “We have to go check on him.”

“Norman?”

“No. Levi.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Oh Daddy, please.” Tears started to form in Abby’s eyes. “He’s so nice. You can go tell the police about that time he brought me a drawing of Sweet Lady after the vet put her down.”

“What good would that do?”

“They’d see he’s a good guy.”

“I don’t think that’s going to do much good.”

“You have to try it. You have to. Please.”

“Oh Abs, I don’t…” The police station was the last place Miller wanted to be. Emily might not come home every time her grandmother got ill. If Levi was in trouble, however? Wild horses couldn’t keep her away. Abby was so upset, though, he had to make some kind of attempt to check on Levi. “Okay. Although I can’t promise they’ll let me see him.”

“They will.” Abby wiped a tear from her eye. “You’ll convince them.”

***

Miller and Abby made it to the center of town around noon. “Remember what I said,” he reminded her after he had parked the truck. “You can stay here, or you can go to the library. Do not come inside the police station.” He handed her the keys to the truck. “Lock up if you get out.”

Abby took the keys and nodded. “Okay. Promise.”

The police department was a few yards behind the town’s only antique store. Miller walked around the corner and stopped short. There it was. A car with a Texas license plate sitting in the parking lot of the station. He didn’t even dare hope it was someone else’s Lexus or someone else’s Texas license plate because it wasn’t anyone else’s brother who had been arrested. He knew it was Emily.

He looked through the glass door and saw Alan, one of ten of Bokchito’s worst, standing behind the welcome desk talking to a woman. Her back was to Miller, but he was sure it was Emily. He waited for a few moments, hoping Alan would escort her to one of the rooms in the back or the kitchen for some coffee. Then he could slip in without having his world intersect with hers.

Miller had worked the fantasy of his reunion with Emily for years, and it had never involved the police station or her brother. In his dreams he was the one with power over her. He’d steal her away from that rich husband and wonderful life her mother was always going on about, take her to bed and show her what she’d given up. Then he’d send her away in the middle of the night…or leave her. Watching the scene with Alan and Emily, he was sure they were arguing. Miller slipped inside and waited against the back wall until he realized Emily’s hand gestures were a sign of desperation, not anger. His gaze fell on the boy clinging to her leg. He was blinking in some kind of weird, rapid, repetitive pattern. He was also counting on his fingers and mumbling something about nine planets. What the hell was wrong with him?

Even from behind, he could see Emily was different from the picture he held in his mind. Her hair was pulled back into a crooked and loose ponytail. It reminded him of Abby’s when he picked her up from gymnastics. Her clothes were baggy. Too baggy. They may have been expensive. How the hell would he know? She wasn’t wearing the kind of haughty, tailored clothes he imagined she’d be wearing. Actually, now that he was thinking about it, he could trace his visual image of her back to
Pretty Woman
. He had imagined her to be a blonde version of the cleaned-up Julia Roberts character. God he hoped he never admitted that out loud to anyone.

Baggy clothes or not, he caught himself staring at her ass. He forced himself to look away and considered backing out of the building, though truthfully, he wanted to be in the room with her. For a few seconds. He wanted to hear her voice, smell her hair, touch her…he was staring at her ass again.

Emily had one hand on the boy’s shoulder and was begging Alan with the other, “Please. Go tell him again.”

Alan scratched his stubbly cheek. “Like I told you, he said he doesn’t wanna see anyone.”

“Tell him it’s me.”

“I did.”

Emily put her hands on the counter and leaned in. “Let me see him, anyway. Please.”

“You aren’t on his list. I can’t let you back there if you aren’t on his list.” Alan touched her hand. “I know this must be hard for you. First Daniel, and now your dad.”

Miller felt a little thrill when Emily pulled her hand out from under Alan's and said, “You don’t know anything.”

He had a sudden and desperate urge to say something. He needed Emily to turn around. He wanted to see her face. Or maybe he wanted to rescue her. He took a few steps forward. “So whose list is Jenny Abernathy on, Alan? Cause I know you’ve taken her back there for a few, what were they? Strip searches? Come on. Let her see her brother.”

Emily’s shoulders stiffened. She brushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear and pivoted to look at him. She blinked. A tear fell out of her bloodshot eye and ran down her pale face.

They stared at each other for a few seconds then he stepped up to the counter, aware that Emily’s eyes were following him. “Come on, Alan. Let her see him.”

“Won’t do any good. He’s not talking.”

Miller caught a whiff of Emily’s shampoo and took in a deep breath that he disguised as a frustrated sigh. “She might be able to get him to talk.”

Alan shot a quick glance over his shoulder. “Well, all right,” he agreed. “Only long enough to see if he’ll talk.”

From his peripheral vision, Miller could tell Emily hadn’t taken her eyes off him. He smiled at her, not that he wanted to, he just couldn’t help it. “Go see your brother, Em.”

“Thanks,” she whispered and took the boy by the shoulders. “Come on. Let’s go.”

Alan moved around to the side of the counter to block her path. “You can’t take that boy back there.”

Emily looked at Miller and then back at Alan. “I have to. I can’t leave him out here with strangers. He might—”

“No.” Alan crossed his arms. “I’ll make an exception for you. Not for the kid.”

“What am I supposed to do, Alan?”

“I’ll watch him,” a girl’s voice said from behind them.

Everyone spun and looked at Abby, except for Miller. He was looking at Emily, trying to read her expression. An impossible task since she already looked so distraught.

“You’re Emily, right?” Abby said. “Levi talks about you and Jack all the time when he’s in town.”

Miller addressed his daughter. “I told you to stay in the truck.”

“I’m sorry, Daddy. I want to help. I want Levi to know—”

“You’re Abby?” Emily interrupted. “He talks about you all the time too. You modeled for his ballerina piece. That’s my favorite.”

That was news to Miller. “You did what?”

“Focus, Daddy. We’re all here for Mr. Levi, remember?” She looked back to Emily. “I’ll watch your little boy so you can go back there.”

Miller and Emily said, “No!” in unison. Then they both tried to explain—Emily saying her son had special needs, and Miller arguing that Abby wasn’t even supposed to be in there.

Abby put her hands on her hips. “Well I’ll go see him, then.”

Miller took her by the shoulders and swung her around to face the door. “I’ll go see him. After you go back to the truck.” He opened the door, nudged her through, and pulled it closed.

He walked by Emily and her son, who was still counting on his fingers, and followed Alan through the heavy door to the back.

Levi was in one of two jails cells, sitting on an old cot with his head in his hands.

“You have a visitor, Levi,” Alan said.