Chapter 2

CHAPTER TWO

JAMIE

A slightly older version of the woman from the town’s website turns from the sidewalk and starts up the stairs, almost faltering when she sees me staring at her.

“Connie Boskon?” I ask in what I hope is a gentle voice. Not that it does much good. Fear flashes in her eyes and her mouth drops open, but she still nods.

“I’m Jamie…”

“I know who you are,” she snaps out, then looks even more frightened when she realizes how she sounds. “I mean, it’s a small town, so we really all know each other, right?”

“Well, maybe I ain’t as bad as you’ve heard?” My rhetorical question causes her to look like a cornered rabbit. I throw her a wink and a smile until the fear in her eyes is replaced by curiosity. “I was hoping we could we talk somewhere, privately.”

“You can come to my office, I suppose,” Connie says without missing a beat, and I know she’s suggesting that because she feels safe there. “Oh, you have to sign in and there’s a metal detector, Butch. Sorry, Jamie.”

“I’ll never forgive my dad for saddling me with that nickname, nor this town for using it.” I reply, reaching out to hold open the door for her as I try to be as charming as possible. “Rest assured, Mrs. Boskon, I didn’t come to the courthouse armed.”

That gets a ‘humph’ from her as she breezes through the employee line, waiting as I go to the security desk.

“How ya doing, Leroy?” I ask, not even pretending that I don’t know him.

“What can I do for you, Mr. Callen?” she asks once we’re in her office and she’s reaching over to turn on an old computer.

“I need some research done. Very discreetly, today preferably.”

“What kind of research?”

“First of all, this stays between us. Then, I need to find out if a couple had a baby, say seventeen or eighteen years ago. Give or take.”

“I can’t do that unless it’s your family,” Connie replies, looking surprised.

“Families are a funny thing, aren’t they? What we’ll do to protect them?” I ask, moving toward the leverage I intend to dangle in front of her.

“I absolutely cannot …”

“Your son has a gambling problem and owes an associate of mine a good-sized chunk of change, Mrs. Boskon. Now, with that new grandbaby of yours, he’s trying to be upstanding , and I can respect that. Just this once, I can get a bit shaved off his balance in exchange for your help.”

“I nearly lost my house because of him. Am I supposed to lose my job also? I can’t …” Connie knows who I am and what I’m not saying, so she nearly starts to hyperventilate.

“Calm down. I need?—”

“Who are you looking for?” The woman sounds defeated.

“I want to know if Lance and Annabelle Bane had a child and if the baby survived.”

“Why?”

“I’m applying for town historian.” I answer without missing a beat, and her eyes nearly bulge out of her head. Eventually, her lips twitch.

“How much will you reduce his debt?” she asks, fanning herself with her hand. “And what do you intend to do with the information?”

“Let’s say a thousand. And I’m honestly just curious. I don’t mean any harm,” I answer her questions and she lets out a dark laugh.

“So help me God, if you hurt her!” Connie starts to threaten me, but her voice trails off. “Three thousand, because I’m sure he owes at least that much, and I’ll tell you what I know.”

“Her?” I prompt her, not committing to her number until I hear what she has to say.

“Eden wasn’t quite two when her momma died. That funeral was the only time I ever saw her, as pretty as a doll, but you were right guessing her age. She must be nearly eighteen by now. Her grandmother and aunt homeschool her while Lance works. Well, he did, but he sold his shop out to some chain recently.”

Eden. Eden Bane. The name bounces around my brain, and I want nothing more than to be alone so I can hear the sound of it roll off my tongue.

It takes me a moment to tune back into what Connie is saying. When she moves from facts to gossip, I hold my hand up. “I’ll work on getting close to that number you asked for adjusted off his tab, even though you and I know it’s more than he deserves.”

“It includes my silence,” Connie says, and I can see she’s getting her nerve back.

Once I’m outside, I pull out my phone and call the sheriff’s burner. “You mentioned something about a mechanic for the town?”

“Yeah, that old shop’s been sitting empty and once the guy I know heard your dad’s terms, he walked away. We’re smaller than most counties, but it’s damn embarrassing to drive our squad cars an hour or more to get work done.” Brooks tells me.

“I’ll look into it. Then we’re square.”

Getting into my truck, I finally give voice to her name. “Eden Bane. Eden. Eden. Bane.”

Strong and lonely, I think. I’ve never given a thought to the sound of a person’s name before, but I find myself wishing I had asked Connie to look up her middle name.

“What was my cut from last month?” I ask, knowing the answer and knowing he’ll round it down some.

“About forty,” Dad replies.

“Closer to fifty, I’d say. Why don’t you keep that and sign the old garage over to me?”

“Why do you want it? Besides, I got someone who’ll rent it any day now.”

“No one’s gonna lease it at that bullshit rent you charge. It’s been empty for three years, sign here.” I hold up the document that I had the foresight to have drawn up before coming over to meet him.

He grudgingly does what I ask after writing in a clause that I can’t sell it without giving him the chance to repurchase it first. After spending the day working with him, I decide to drive out to my house.

It’s been a month or so since I had workmen in and I take a look around, trying to figure out if this is still what I want. Looking over the plans while I wait for pizza to be delivered, I make a few revisions before texting the contractor to meet me out here the following afternoon.

The next morning, I drive up and down the road that Bane allegedly lives off of and during the second pass, I yell when I realize I’ve been missing the most inconspicuous driveway there ever was.

Past the first thirty feet, the sides of the driveway are miraculously clear of all the overgrown trees and bushes, and I’m surprised to see a really well-kept two-story home waiting for me at the end of the long drive. I’ve barely stopped my truck before Lance is on his top step, holding a shotgun.

“Jamie, right?” he asks, looking suspicious. “What do you want?”

Keeping my hands visible, I slide out of my truck and nod to him before looking around. “Technically, Brooks sent me.”

“That right? Why would he do that?”

“Well, I bought the old empty garage from Mick, and I was wondering if you’d come by to give me some suggestions on how to outfit it?”

“Whatever wasn’t picked over is ten or fifteen years old. It’ll take some money to get it in good enough shape that anyone will want it,” Lance gives me a direct, and I’m sure, an honest answer.

“I hadn’t realized you looked at it. You said you hadn’t seen Mick in a while.”

“He had Old Bottlecap walk me through it. That and what he’s charging …” his voice cuts off as music starts playing from the second story and my head jerks up to study the windows. “It’s just my alarm clock. Wait here.”

I study the second-floor windows and grin when I see curtains moving just before the music is cut off.

“Come on, let me show you my shop, give you an idea of the money you’ll need to put into the place,” Lance is talking from the moment he reappears and makes eye contact with me briefly before tossing me a bottle of water. “You look like you’re in better shape than you were the other day.”

“Yeah, that was a rough morning,” I acknowledge and nearly miss a step as I follow him around the corner of his house. Besides the massive vegetable garden, there’s a three-car garage in addition to his shop and a barn with a corral.

“Shit, you’ve got quite the spread here, don’t ya?”

“The land was in my wife’s family long before there were any Callens around,” he says with a grin, so I suspect he knows how Mick brags about the Callen legacy . Pointing to a path that cuts between the barn and his shop. “My sister-in-law was kind enough to take in my mother and they’re my closest neighbors, just under a mile down that way.”

“God forbid we don’t all measure how long our family’s been around here like it’s more important than the length of our dicks.” I drawl out the words I always want to say to my father but know I can get away with it around Lance.

I get a bark of laughter from him, and I have to work at keeping my face straight as the pleasure from his approval seeps through me.

“Ain’t that the truth,” Lance says, clapping me on the shoulder. “My parents followed me here, so I have to brag on Annabelle’s side when I’m around locals.”

We spend the next hour looking over what he was allowed to salvage from the garage he sold, as we discuss what rent he thinks would be reasonable. I give up more ground than I want to, but today is about gaining his trust.

“Give me a call when the paperwork is ready. I’ll meet you in town.” Were his parting words, which I took as: Don’t come flying up my driveway whenever you feel like it .

Being Southern, through and through, I learned to read between the lines mighty young. I also know he came out showing that shotgun because he has a daughter he wants to protect.

Especially from men like me.