16. I’m Not Scared

SIXTEEN

I’m Not Scared

It was good that Lucinda was so damned smart.

He thought this as he walked into his quiet, well-decorated, relaxing room, flicked off his shoes, shrugged off his blazer, clicked on the fireplace and went to the bar.

He saw the red wax of the hotel-bar-sized Maker’s Mark, and he tore into that fucker.

He’d be sure to pay for it himself when he checked out.

He poured four fingers into a glass, walked to the couch and collapsed to his ass.

He took a sip.

He stared at the fire.

He took another sip.

He stared at the fire some more.

He wondered if he’d have enough energy when he was done drinking to make it to the bed.

He then realized he hadn’t had a thing to eat since the food Lucinda arranged for him.

Which meant he was smirking when he pulled out his phone and checked it.

Text from Acre, I’m alive. I’m stocked. But if you’re feeling generous, don’t hesitate to send condoms.

As ever, reading that, Rus was wondering at the wisdom of making himself a safe place for sex talk with his son. He didn’t want him to do anything stupid, like get a girl pregnant or get or give an STD.

But…

Jesus.

Text from Sabrina, Going to bed! Love you, Dad!

And there was his girl, all grown, and she still texted she was going to sleep.

Better than Maker’s Mark.

He still took another sip.

Then he texted them both, sending his love.

Next up, text from McGill, Alerts in place. Credit cards. Airports. Etc. His cell is off. But we’re on him.

He hoped Corbin either came in or screwed up, and he hoped he did one of them soon. He wanted the man’s ass in jail. He wanted to know who his partner was, because Rus knew he went to that motel with a partner, someone who called the shots.

He wanted this done.

And if CK was there, he wanted him to have reason to get out of Misted Pines.

Whoever caught that case when Rus did whatever Rus was going to do next could find him somewhere else.

Text from Bohannan #1, Appreciate you. What you did with Jace. Won’t forget it.

That came in before the text from McGill.

Text from Bohannan #2 came in after it, Harry called. I’m going over the file again tonight. I want to tweak my profile with this new possible. Larue wants you over for dinner tomorrow. Doable?

He texted back, Doable. Give me a time and see you then.

Then he went back to the text that came after Acre, but before Sabrina.

Text from Lucinda, I’m sorry I zoned out like that with you. I already knew it was something bad, or you would have told me. If you want, call me when your day is done.

He was tired as fuck.

But he didn’t hesitate.

He went to her name, hit info, hit her number and put the phone to his ear.

He drank more bourbon and stared at the fire.

“Hey, Rus,” she answered.

Not all better, but her low, husky voice in his ear sure helped.

“How you doing?” he asked.

“Better. Um…I don’t know how to tell you this, you might already know, but I sense I’m kind of your local touchstone, and I feel it’s important for you to know, so I’m just going to tell you. Rumor is flying you guys are searching for Ezra Corbin.”

“We are, though I didn’t know rumor was flying.”

“His wife, apparently, is beside herself.”

That was true.

Rus took another drink.

Then he said, “It’s been a day. I had three hours of sleep. And you know what?”

“What?”

“It sure felt good coming back to this room.”

Soft laughter.

Damn, he’d like to see that. He’d had a few smiles, no laughs.

But it sounded good.

“I grew up in a cult,” he announced.

“I…pardon?”

She sounded stunned.

As she would.

“My name,” he began. “I grew up in a cult. It was a Christian cult. When I was two, my dad was in a car accident. He died, or his heart stopped, for about a minute. They brought him back, and when he recovered, he was different. At least that’s what my grandparents said, my aunts and uncles as well. He went on about all that white light business. Said he saw Jesus. Got hooked up with this guy who was off, but he had a following. A pretty big one. It wasn’t anything weird. It wasn’t Koresh or Jim Jones. But it wasn’t mainstream either, and it was insular. Very insular. Take away the polygamy, adding books to the Bible and women dressing in outfits from the eighteen hundreds, and it was kinda fundamental Mormon. In other words, intense.”

“Well, wow,” she said carefully.

Her response didn’t sound promising, but he kept sharing.

“Women were definitely quiet, subjugated. But everyone did what the elders told you to do. Dad was an elder. The head preacher man, Richard, was the top authority and essentially told the elders what to do. He said Jesus brought Dad back from the dead. He used Dad a lot in his sermonizing. It was him who changed Dad’s last name to Lazarus. Dad did it legal for him, Mom, all of us. The name I was born with was Sawyer Wells, but I was too young to ever remember being that kid. They changed my first name, and my brothers’ names too. Because Pastor Rich told them to.”

“That’s quite a story,” she said quietly, not in a Christ, you’re fucked up way, but a go on way.

That was a relief.

He went on.

“When I was eighteen, the only means I had to get away and feed myself, I enlisted in the Army. My ex, we went to high school together. For three years in school, we were together, dated, but my parents never met her because I wasn’t allowed to be with her. They’d picked a girl for me from our church. Arranged marriages, now, that was a thing.”

“My God.”

That was a Christ, that’s fucked up, but still a go on.

He again went on.

“Yeah. Jenn saved me from that. She was normal. Her parents were great with me. They got it. They helped cover for me. Helped cover for me to do normal high school kid things. Helped cover for my brothers too. One was older, one was younger. Obadiah was older. He was getting close to being married off. He was flipping out. He didn’t want to get married at twenty to a girl he didn’t like. He knew her, had grown up with her. And I agree. She wasn’t a good person. That didn’t matter. What Pastor Rich said, went.”

“This is…”

She didn’t finish that.

“A lot, I know.” Rus finished for her.

But if they were going where he wanted them to go, she had to have this in order to make the decision if she wanted to go there with him.

So he kept giving it to her.

“Jenn’s parents let my brother live in their basement, got him a job. When he fully cut ties with the church, he changed his first name back to what he was born with. He changed it to Lucas.”

“Okay,” she said, talking softly, like she was snuggled in, listening.

This time, go on meant I’m interested in learning about you.

This was a relief too, and it felt good.

“I went into the Army. Our church was pacifist. Mom and Dad cut out Lucas. When I went to basic, they cut me out too. Jedediah, he kept his name, but not like I did. He changed it legally to Jeb, which is what we all called him when we weren’t around the church members. He got out too, with Lucas’s, Jenn’s parents’ and my help.”

“So, none of you talk to your parents anymore?”

“Not for a while. Jenn and I married at nineteen. Lucas got married to his first wife at twenty-two. Jeb was engaged. Mom was hearing stories. She was pissed she was missing out. I’m not sure she bought into the whole thing anyway. But she loved Dad and she was glad he wasn’t dead, not only because she loved him, but when he had his accident, she had two little kids, and one on the way. At first, I figure, she was happy to do anything as long as it made him happy. But she used to do things like sneak us sweets or a pop when we weren’t allowed processed foods. Or we’d fake feeling sick to get out of going to church, and we went to church Wednesday night, Saturday morning, Sunday morning and Sunday evening, and that’s a lot, and she’d back our play. She’d take us to places where we could watch TV, since we weren’t allowed to have one at home. Shit like that.”

“She broke free?”

“She told Dad it was her and her boys, or the church. There was some push and pull, but he picked her. And us.”

“That’s good.”

It was.

Very good.

“It took a while. Lucas, particularly, had an issue and he wouldn’t let go of it. He didn’t have a Jenn to go to so he had some normal. He was pissed Mom and Dad knew he didn’t like the girl they were marrying him off to, and Dad was adamant he go through with it. He wanted to play football. They didn’t believe in organized sports.”

Rus took in a breath and then kept giving her some of the shit of his life.

“Mostly, they didn’t believe in members spending time outside the flock. For kids, if you wanted physical activity, you worked for one of the church members’ businesses. For free. Even if it wasn’t about physical activity, if you weren’t in service to the church, starting at thirteen, fourteen, you worked for someone for free. Lucas is a financial advisor now. He has money, about twenty rental properties. Even when he was a kid, he’d fight with Dad, wondering why he was busting his ass to make someone else money. And asking Dad questions, like how someone made money off Lucas’s back, then they gave it to the church. Asked him why Pastor Rich had a ten thousand square foot house, we were living in a two-bedroom, and Pastor Rich drove a Mercedes, and Mom and Dad shared a Chevy minivan. And yet, Dad managed three branches of a local bank and made six figures.”

“These are good questions.”

She was right.

They were.

“Pissed Dad off because he didn’t have good answers. Once the reconciliation happened, it was a rough go, but it got better with time.”

“So everyone is together now?”

“Yeah. Mom and Dad live in a house bigger than the one we grew up in. Mom’s happy. I think Dad’s a little lost, mostly how he gave twenty plus years of his family’s life to that, and now he’s seventy and that time is just gone. He eventually saw it. We had a family meeting. We decided it was too much of a pain in the ass to change our names back to Wells. All the wives would have to change. Lucas had a daughter by then. Jenn was pregnant. So I’m Zachariah Lazarus, but secretly, I hate it. It sounds made up because it is. That’s why I like Rus. I gave that to myself. Simple, and somehow, it’s just mine.”

“I get that. And I like the name Rus. It’s very you, and not because it’s simple. Just open and honest and modest. Definitely you.”

Nice.

“That was a lot,” he noted.

“I don’t know. My many-greats grandmother was essentially human trafficked, ended up in a whorehouse slash saloon at fifteen, in a fur trading town in the middle of nowhere. At seventeen, she shot her pimp because he was an asshole and then took over his girls. And we’ve stayed in that business, for the most part, for over a hundred and thirty years.”

“Somehow, your back story seems more normal than mine.”

And he got the soft laughter again.

“I abandoned my wife for my job.”

There, he did it again.

“Oh, Rus,” she whispered.

“I did. You get caught up in it. I was away from home a lot. She had a job too. Made good money and to make good money, there’s stress. And she had the kids. And the house.”

“Did you get what your dad got? The ultimatum. Your job or her?”

“I came home to her fucking some guy who looked like me in our bed. I knew the minute I saw them I’d never be able to get over it. Thing is, she didn’t ask me to.”

Lucinda said nothing.

Still, he agreed, “Yeah.”

“That wasn’t nice,” she snapped.

“She warned me.”

“She warned you she was going step in, that being in your bed with another man?”

“Not in those words, but I knew she was unhappy. But I was working a big case. I would have let a lot of people down if I walked away from it, as she’d asked me to do. And I was a soldier, then a cop, then an agent. What am I going to do? Become a PI? Consult for one of those firms that do hideous shit but pay a lot of money, so I have a boat, but I can’t sleep at night? Give up the field for a job teaching, which might kill me?”

These were good questions.

Because now that he knew he was getting out, what was he going to do?

He had two kids in college, for fuck’s sake.

They’d saved, but he had condoms and bikinis to buy.

“No, you do what you love. You do what you’re good at. And your wife finds a way.”

“There’s gotta be compromise, baby.”

“Says who?” she retorted. “Sure, if you lose your whole family because you placed them in a cult and made five people live in a two-bedroom house, you think on things. You marry a soldier, who becomes a cop, who goes into the FBI, you know what’s happening.”

“You’re only defending me because you like me,” he teased.

“I do like you, Rus. But I’m defending you because, even if you grow apart from your husband, even if the way your life became is not something that makes you happy, you walk away. You don’t fuck another man in your marital bed for the sole purpose of causing pain to someone you at least used to love.”

Rus stared at the fire.

“I can’t believe she cheated on you. You. My God,” Lucinda said in his ear. “What a bitchy thing to do.”

“She was hurting.”

“So she hurt you?” she asked. “Jaeger and I were drifting apart. I have a problem. I’m a strong woman who likes men. Quote-unquote real men. Like it or not, it’s not progressive or current or hip anymore, but for me, it’s the way it is.”

Jesus.

That was good to hear.

“What can I say?” she asked rhetorically. “I grew up in a fucking wilderness around men in trucks who chop logs as recreation and bathe in freezing cold creeks like they’re Jacuzzis. It’s what I know.”

Now Rus was staring at the fire, sipping bourbon and smiling.

“Or maybe it’s just what I like,” she continued. “Sadly, this type of man, for the most part, is at odds with the woman I am. This, too, is a generational flaw. Mom and Dad divorced because Dad couldn’t deal with being home with me and Porter while Mom was managing the business. Gramps was hilarious, and he loved Gram a lot, she loved him too, but after they had Mom, they didn’t live together. They got together often. But they didn’t live together. So I fell in love with Jaeger. We committed to each other. I realized we weren’t going to work, and we sat down and worked out how not to be together. We don’t hate each other. We talk. We even call each other and catch up. I don’t talk to him all the time, but I know what’s going on in his life, and he knows what’s going on in mine, and a lot of that doesn’t have to do with Madden.”

She paused.

And then she said, “What I didn’t do was get pissed when he said he got a job offer in Oregon where he’d be getting paid a lot more, and he wanted all three of us to go. And I refused, because, you know, seven generations of Bon Amie, I’m not walking away from that. I’ve been waiting to get my hands on it since I could form coherent thought. When he dug in, I didn’t get angry and find some guy and arrange for him to discover us fucking. One, because Jaeger would have torn his head off, and I’m not a big fan of blood on my sheets. And two, because that’s just nasty.”

“Gotta say, you’re pretty funny when you’re off on one,” he ribbed.

“The point is, Rus,” she huffed out in exasperation. “She made you feel guilty for being you, then she did something really awful, and for some reason, you think you deserve it. When you don’t. Ezra deserves someone being really awful to him. As far as I know, you don’t. Though, maybe your ex does.”

There was a warmth in his stomach that had something to do with the bourbon.

But mostly it was her.

“Did I mention I like you?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“So, in case you didn’t put this together, me landing all of this on you is to lay it out because I like you.”

“Yes, Rus, I put that together.”

“Not scared?”

“Honey, I’m Cher with less makeup and no plastic surgery and a lot better head for business. And you’re asking me if I’m scared?”

“What?”

“Have you seen Burlesque?”

“Your show? Yeah, I caught it last night.”

“No, the movie. With Cher and Christina Aguilera.”

“No, I haven’t seen that.”

“Of course. On second thought, it doesn’t strike me as something you’d rush out to see,” she murmured.

“Is it good?”

“Have you heard Christina Aguilera sing?”

“I think so.”

“It’s good. Even Jaeger liked it, and I thought his eyeballs would melt if he watched it.”

Rus started chuckling. “Let me guess, he chopped wood for recreation and took baths in creeks.”

“I still have wood he chopped, and he’s been gone for two years, and I have three fireplaces in my house.”

At that, Rus burst out laughing.

“Can you chop wood?” she asked.

“There’s an art to it. I found that out when we were in Colorado for a vacation and we rented a house. But I got the hang of it. It’s not neurosurgery.”

“Or catching a killer.”

That felt warm in his gut too.

“That either, baby,” he said quietly.

“Let me be clear, I’m not scared.”

That felt the warmest of all of it.

His voice was rough when he said, “Good.”

“You can make your move at any time, but apparently, I’m coming to Cade and Delphine’s for dinner tomorrow. My guess, either Cade or Harry said something, and Delphine is match making. So, you know, I probably wouldn’t say no to after-dinner drinks in your room.”

He was smiling, but uncertain, when he replied, “I’ll bear that in mind.”

“Or wait until you’re ready,” she said gently.

“I got a killer to catch, honey.”

“I know.”

“How’s Madden?”

“Sleeping now. We got word Brittanie is finally at the funeral home. We’re thinking Tuesday or Wednesday for her services. Probably Wednesday. Maybe, after that, Madden will have some closure and a sense of peace for Brittanie, and she’ll have fewer dark times. We lost Gram about a month after Jaeger moved away. This isn’t her first loss. But you never get used to them.”

“No, you don’t.”

After that, they talked a little while longer, they didn’t get into anything heavy, and by the end of it, she sounded sleepy. He knew he was, so they signed off.

He finished his drink, turned off the fire, went to the safe and got one of his guns, ambled into the bedroom and set it on the nightstand.

He had just enough energy to strip to his shorts and brush his teeth.

Then he got under the fluffy duvet, arranged the pillows so they were perfect for his head, and fell into a dead sleep.