he watched her march away from his car and up the stairs to her porch without even glancing behind her one time. He sat there like a doofus in front of his former house for more than five minutes before he realized he needed to do something. Anything.
Stallings started to drive, and before he realized it he was in front of the soup kitchen where his father worked most Friday nights. Stallings was careful to park more than a block away so his unmarked police car didn’t spook any of the patrons of the soup kitchen. The chief volunteer, a lovely woman named Grace Jackson, who was a local teacher recognized often in the paper for her community spirit, had once told him never to park any vehicle that could be interpreted as a police car in front of the place.
As soon as he walked through the door he saw that most of the patrons had been served and the cleanup was almost completed. At the far end of the room his father sat at a round table eating a fried chicken leg and chatting. As he walked across the room a real fear rose in Stallings that his father might not recognize him immediately. His memory bounced around from perfect to almost blank without reason or schedule. Stallings often worried this man he’d just gotten to know again after more than twenty years would eventually forget him altogether. It made Stallings feel like he didn’t exist at all if his own father had no memory of him. But on his good days he rationalized that it was better to have made amends with his father even if it meant only a short time together than to have remembered him as the bitter, drunken bully he had been for most of Stallings’s childhood.
At the table next to his father sat Grace. She was younger than Stallings, perhaps thirty-five, with a pretty face and a perfect, chocolate complexion. The last time he had seen her, several months earlier, she had told him how much his father meant to her. Now, as he saw them smiling and talking, he felt a pang of guilt over not establishing a relationship with his estranged father sooner.
Stallings felt this tension release when Grace gave him a bright smile. His father turned and Stallings’s heart stopped for a second until the older man smiled too.
James Stallings said, “Hello, Johnny. What brings you over here tonight?”
Stallings couldn’t believe how happy he was to see his father’s smile and hear his lucid words. It was almost enough to wash away the lingering feelings about Maria’s fit.
James Stallings turned to Grace Jackson and said, “This is my son, Johnny. He’s a big-shot detective with JSO.”
Grace smiled. Her teeth were bright and straight and beautiful. She said, “I’ve met your son.” Then she surprised Stallings by standing up and greeting him with a big hug. She was shorter than him, around five foot two, and a little plump, but he definitely sensed something extra in their lingering hug.
Stallings liked the way she held on to his hands as she released her hug and just stared at him for a moment. The last time he had seen her she was in an apron and had been working behind the kitchen counter for hours. There was something about her that looked fresh and invigorated. She had the most alluring dark eyes set in a pretty face, so Stallings just enjoyed the moment.
They all sat together at the round table and chatted about different things. Stallings felt comfortable enough with Grace to pull out the newly found photo of Jeanie and slide it in front of his father.
James Stallings took the photo and stared at it for a moment. He looked up at his son and said, “Today it’s crystal clear in my mind. I can even remember the sound of her voice.”
Stallings said, “You once said she went by a different name too. Do you remember?”
The older man nodded his head and said, “Kelly.”
It was all coming together. Between what Kyle had said and now his father, he was sure Jeanie was alive. He was about to ask his father another question-then, without warning or reason, James Stallings started to sob.
Lynn was polite but firm. She didn’t want to have anything to do with this preppy pest. But his cheerful smile gave no indication that he understood what she was talking about. He just kept nodding and insisting he wanted to buy her a tequila shooter.
Finally she had to say to him, “Is English your first language?”
The pest giggled and nodded his head. “You are just too cute. There is no way you’re leaving here without me getting a number.”
Lynn would’ve almost thought it was funny except for the fact that Kyle was getting ready to move from the bar. She still wanted to catch him before he met with his friends. But the pest was insistent.
He asked, “Are you meeting someone?”
She didn’t want to say yes, then have him see her with Kyle and possibly describe her later.
When she didn’t answer, he said, “C’mon, just one drink.”
She nodded her head reluctantly. “Okay, just the one. Then you have to leave me alone.”
He smiled and she appreciated how cute he really was.
He said, “I can wear anyone down eventually.” He ordered a Grey Goose on the rocks and she was able to talk him out of a shot of tequila and into another chardonnay for her.
The bartender caught Lynn’s eye in a subtle way. She understood he was silently asking her if this guy was bothering her. She smiled and shook her head, not wanting to draw attention to herself, but she realized she was losing an opportunity. They sat and sipped their drinks while the pest told her he was a stockbroker in Orlando and had attended UCF. She was surprised how few questions he asked about her so she didn’t have to be evasive.
Then she saw Kyle stand up and greet a burly young man in a tight-fitting UCF football jersey. The window had closed. She realized there was nothing to do now but step back.
Lynn looked at the pest and said, “I’m sorry, I’m running late. I really have to be leaving.” Before the young man could put up any argument she grabbed her purse from the stool and immediately started to hustle through the door. She made it all the way to her car, then started to feel an odd sensation. A letdown. Lynn realized she’d been looking forward to using the knife on Kyle. It scared her to have feelings like this.
Lynn looked down the aisle of vehicles and saw Kyle’s truck. She wondered what would happen if she simply waited in the parking lot and caught him as he tried to get into the truck. She reached into her pocket and felt the solid outline of the Buck knife. Then, from behind her, she heard the pest yell, “Hey, cutie, I didn’t even get your number.”
Something came over her in an instant as she watched the young man jog toward her. She visualized plunging the knife into his neck. Then she rationalized that she could use the practice. Lynn said out loud, with almost no thought, “Why don’t you follow me down the street while I run an errand? Then we’ll see what happens.”
The broad smile on the young man’s face was all the answer she needed.
Patty Levine laid on the gas a little hard in her personal Jeep Liberty. She liked the way the small SUV handled and the zip it had on the street. She occasionally got stopped by troopers on the interstate but rarely had to go so far as to play the fellow police officer card. A pleasant smile or giggle was enough to make the big bad Florida state troopers tell her it was “okay, just bring it down a few miles from now on.” She was sorry she was leaving her family’s home in Ocala. The Saturday after Thanksgiving was always a lot of fun. They would watch the UF-FSU game and she’d play touch football with her brothers in the backyard. They would all drink a lot of beer and she’d forget her problems.
There were no grandkids in the family yet, so there was no need to be responsible and watch the kids. The brother a year younger than her had a tremendous fear of commitment. He’d be unattached well into his thirties. And her youngest brother was probably gay, but he hadn’t come out of the closet and no one pushed too hard to find out for sure. Patty didn’t understand his reticence because no one in her family had ever shown any bias against gay people. But it was hard to predict how people want to be viewed. It wasn’t like they were Catholics. They were Methodists, the ostriches of the faith community. What they didn’t know and didn’t see, they didn’t care about.
Patty was pushing her blue Jeep hard because she wanted to surprise Ken. It was probably a little early in a relationship for her to show up unannounced on Friday night, but it was a risk she was willing to take. She wanted to know if he was a player. Something told her he was more interested in one woman at a time.
Patty pulled off the exit just past the Flagler County line and found his condo, sitting on a river. Ken had already told her he wanted to find a house closer to the ocean, but that this condo was very comfortable. He said he had a weakness for comfort.
