Broken (2 page)

Zipping up his jacket, he turned for the door with his keys in hand and stepped outside.

At the top of the steps he froze, listening to the night sounds he knew so well, then hastily moved to the shed. He grasped at the wind-whipped door and wrestled it closed against the wall of air.

Behind him, contrasted by the moonlit sky, the blade of a heavy, steel shovel rose into the air.

It came down with a bell-like toll against the back of his head, leaving the bear of a man face down on the sharp quartz gravel, stunned and unable to make a move to save himself while the sound of his skull splintering somehow managed to echo inside.

2

Keeping up appearances was what kept him under the radar, so Randy meandered somberly through the crowded viewing room at the Blatt and Son’s Funeral Home. He did everything he could to keep from looking at any member of his family.
Especially Eric, don’t look at him, keep it together.
To keep his mind off his little brother, he turned toward a group of old timers, the kind that perpetuated the rural stereotype of old men sitting in front of the general store playing checkers on upended barrels. Except, in this case, Sophie and Bill Shiner kept a picnic table on the porch for them.

Man, I’d rather be anywhere else.
But it wasn’t every day one of his father’s oldest employees turned up with his brains bashed in, and he needed to find out whatever he could about the progress of the investigation. Keeping his ears open, and his mingling close to the town gossips, he allowed himself a sigh of relief.

What he’d heard so far was fairly promising. According to the town Sheriff, Boomer Hamilton, the County boys didn’t have a single solid lead, though they seemed to be under the impression that robbery might have been a motive, considering the state of the cabin.

So far, so good. No traces of the girl, which means they don’t even know to look for her.
He nodded as someone greeted him.
Who’d’ve ever thought Dave had anything worth stealing.
The irony of having to ransack the home of the least wealthy man in the whole town of Glen Falls, not to mention finding a high-end digital night-vision camera with crystal clear shots of him conducting his business on it, was not lost on Randy.

He glanced at the door where a trio from “High Society” stood huddled protectively together, as if they might get ‘poor’ on them. With a snort he quickly turned his face away, wondering if any of them would recognize him even if he spit on them.

Without the uniform on, the only one I think that might be able to is him.
His eyes fell to Charles Caffey, dressed impeccably in Armani and looking very much, for once, like a man at a complete loss. His glance swept over Charles’ wife, Amelia, and the Grande Dame who actually paid his salary, Gertrude Waldham.
The cuckold, the whore and the harpy.

In the periphery of his vision, Randy noted his father, his mother and his eldest brother lining up to pay their respects.

He startled faintly with the fall of his baby brother’s arm over his shoulders, guiding him to the dais.

“You look like you’d rather be just about anywhere else on earth right now than here.” Eric smiled over his shoulder, the electricity of his presence behind him set Randy’s heart racing and threatened to make his knees weak.

Please, not now.
He begged deep inside, many years proficient at keeping those Private thoughts PRIVATE.
Please! Not right now!

“Pretty much.” He agreed, turning his head slightly with an upward glance at those warm liquid hazel eyes. “How’ve you been, Eric? It’s been a while.”

The younger man’s hand moved to the back of his neck where he gave a gentle squeeze before maneuvering his big brother in front of him, “Good. It’s been too long, Ran. Shouldn’t hafta be someone dying to get us together.”

Randy would’ve sworn he could hear his neck creak as he nodded.

“Why’d you bring them?” Eric asked softly, motioning with his chin toward his big brother’s employers.

He shook his head, “I didn’t. They’re on their own business.” He turned, surprised by just how close his little brother’s face was to his, especially his mouth. “I, uh,” he swallowed hard, taking a tiny step forward to put a hint of distance between them, “I wouldn’t imagine they’d even recognize me without the uniform on.”

He faced forward again and listened to his father’s voice drone words to Sam, Dave’s sole survivor.
I always liked you, Sam. It’s not your fault, I know it isn’t, but it doesn’t change the facts.
What he’d learned when he went to request the day of the wake off once the story of Dave’s murder broke, still left him stunned.
I never would’ve believed it.

He looked around, somehow surprised that he recognized every face in the room, from the trio he worked for, to Sam’s Godfather, Cody Taylor. Also lending their support were Bill and Sophie Shiner, the owners of the old-fashioned general store, who were kind of surrogate grandparents to the young woman.

In a town the size of Glen Falls, everyone knew everyone, and apparently, anyone who ever met Dave Backer liked him enough to come pay their respects. It made sense that Randy’s family should be there, after all Custon Tool and Die kept Glen Falls running and supported nearly two-thirds of the towns’ folk.
Just one big happy family is all.
He kept the derisive snort inside, thinking about all the faces he knew.

There’s Sadie from over at First Bank, Eddie Holmes… hope you got over your cherry bomb fetish man… you still got all your fingers?
He glanced around again, noting teachers, librarians, gas station clerks, a checker from the new Jewel Food Store,
Hey, Willie, you still sleeping your way through the night shift at the shop?
He smiled, almost loosely. He knew them all, but then, he also thought he knew Sam.

His eyes fell on the closed, brushed aluminum casket,
I’m sorry, Dave, you didn’t give me a choice. I’m so sorry, and I’m sorry about the girl.

The next thing he knew, he was standing in front of her, his hands clasped together in front of him. Slowly, he looked up from the casket to delve into her bright amber eyes.
What color were Dave’s eyes? Did you ever question the difference? Did he ever tell you?

“Your dad was a good guy, Sam. It’s a damned shame.” At least he could mean that much.

Her arms wrapped around herself as she nodded tightly, favoring him with a weak smile.
I can see why she was one of the few girls Eric ever had a thing for. She looks almost... fragile.
He breathed deeply and sighed sadly, “I’m sorry, Sam.”
Even if you don’t, I know what you are.

“Yeah, it is. Thanks, Randy,” she nodded as he moved through her field of vision, relatively certain that she hadn’t even really bothered to see him.

Eric’s voice behind him, the timbre of it, the color of it, the vibration of it, set fire to his tingly places as he stepped off the platform.

“I’m so sorry, Sam. It’s a horrible thing, really horrible! I can’t imagine what you must be feeling.”

Walking slowly around the far side of the dais, he couldn’t help but watch from the corner of his eye. Eric leaned in to hug her and Randy felt his jaw clench.

“It IS horrible, Eric, thank you, though.”

Moving almost continually, he kept himself carefully camouflaged by the guests, just another country face moving through a country crowd. He was trained to watch, to observe, and in many cases, to be unnoticed. All this served him spectacularly as he split his attention between the trio at the door and his baby brother.

“Sam, if there’s anything, you know,
anything,
you need, or that I can do, just ask, okay?” the youngest Custon nodded, held back by her emerging tears. A moment later, he threw his arms around her again, his own eyes close to overflowing, “I’m so sorry, but I mean it, okay?”

He dashed off the platform, pinching the corners of his eyes, his cheeks flushed brightly with emotion.
You’ve always been so sensitive, such a gentle soul Eric.
Randy shook his head and slid out of the viewing room just as Joe Blatt, the eldest of the two funeral director brothers, sidled up to Sam.

There were things Randy heard while mingling from group to group that left him a bit unsettled. Comments uttered about a package Cody had picked up to mail to Sam, and musings about whether or not it might contain information that would name Dave’s killer.

I tore that place apart! I GOT the camera! What else could there have been?
He knew he had to go back. It didn’t matter that the County had already been over the cabin with a fine toothed comb, or that the odds of them missing something that would eventually point to him were slim to none.
These are COUNTY Cops, not a townie caught with his dick in the wrong pussy. God, all those years, just one lie after another, after another, after another... HOW? How can someone claim to love a person, then betray them so easily, betray ME so openly! So... SHAMELESSLY! GOD I HATE her! One day...

“Come back to the house and have lunch with me.” Eric’s voice hooked him securely.

Turning, his heart beating in his throat, he shook his head and opened his mouth to speak, but couldn’t. The slim, wispy boy who’d once been reluctant to grow at all, had become a man, both taller and broader than Randy, and he moved fluidly.

“You can’t say ‘no,’ Ran. I haven’t had one of your multi-meat stack-wiches in YEARS. I’ve watched you do it a zillion times, and I can’t make it the way you can.” He craned his head around and smiled into his big brother’s face, almost reading his mind when his eyes flicked to the viewing room, “They won’t be there.”

Is that supposed to make it easier little bear?
Randy exploded with heat. Sweat poured out of him, and again, his mouth ran dry. The tangy, green scent of his brother’s cologne stole his breath.

Helpless against his body’s reaction, he nodded, “You goin’ graveside?”

“Mmm hmm,” the younger man hummed a smile into his ear, “I should be back at the house in a couple hours...”

A faint spasm almost left him leaning against Eric as he fought the impending explosion within.
Not here, not now, please.
“Alright,” he nodded, “we’ll have lunch, catch up.”

He tore himself away from the warmth and comfort he wanted more than anything else, and without a glance, strode from the funeral home, amazed by how normal he’d managed to sound compared to how he felt.

--

In her room at the Shiner’s house, Sam watched the tiny, black silk dress flutter to the floor in the mirror’s reflection. Her eyes fell to a one-and-a-half-inch scar between her ribs as she grasped the garment with her toes, carelessly dropping it onto the bed while her mind drifted back in time.

Without the faintest bit of effort, she could still remember the day she’d met the man she loved more than life itself, in fact, the one she was going to marry, Jase Edwards, and, of course, his partner, Pete.

“
I’ll be back by one; I just wanna go see if she’s alright,” she called, her voice smiling brightly as she skipped down the steps of the mock brownstone. It was her first job straight out of college. She was working as a counselor at Recovery House, a sanctuary for battered women.

Just a few seconds before he grabbed her around the throat from behind the day had been warm, sunny and bright, but as soon as his breath hit her ear, she would have sworn that January had returned.

“
Stupid little bitch, try to get my girl to LEAVE ME! Nobody leaves Ty Mitchell, bitch! But you just wouldn’t let her do the right thing now, would ya? Gettin’ yer nose all up in other folks’ business, that’s not right...” he hissed, squeezing around her throat until spots danced in her eyes.

“
Ty, don’t do this.” She choked, pulling against his arm, letting her weight give what little assistance it could, but he was too strong.

“
I ain’t got a choice. YOU DIDN’T GIVE ME ONE!” he yelled into her ear. “So now, you gotta die, just like my Lolo.”

Ice slid into her first, then air rushed in, too quickly for her to breathe. It pressed into her chest as warmth ran out. A moment later, she was looking up at a sky that had started the day as blue but, despite the white puffy clouds, seemed suddenly gray.

Voices she knew, and some she didn’t, were yelling, car doors were slamming, and men’s shoes pounded the sidewalk.

Then, there was a man above her on one side talking to the owner of the lap her head was in. ‘It’s so cold.’ She thought, wondering what was wrong with the man, why he looked like he was in pain. ‘Dad! Oh, man, he’ll be so scared,’ she thought, before feeling something warm in her hand.

“
...killed Yol...nda... tol... me,” she sputtered, wondering why it was so hard to breathe, ‘is he sitting on my chest?’ “...on’t tell..mm dad... less I die... romise...” she demanded, willing her hand to squeeze that bulky bit of warmth.

“
You’re NOT going to die!” he seemed to be commanding it, then there was a vibration behind her and the taste of hot metal in her throat, and suddenly it didn’t hurt so much anymore.

The memory of that dark-haired, all-American guy slinking into her hospital room, peering around the corner like a kid with his hand about to dip into the cookie jar, brought a grin to her face as she smoothed her blouse down. He’d been holding a tiny bouquet of flowers from the local grocery store, and looked about as suave as a sixteen year old going to his first prom. But it was the look on his face when she’d motioned him into the room that turned out to be the purchase price of her heart.

Warmed by both the change of clothes, as well as the memory, she slid her boots on and headed down the stairs. “Bill, Soph, I’ll be back in a little bit.”

--

Randy turned carefully in the center of the cabin’s living room, sweeping from the freshly ransacked desk, toward the kitchen with his attentive gaze. Splotches of fingerprint powder made the place look like all 101 Dalmatians had left their spots behind. A flash of memory brought a light smile to his face.
“I want a dog that talks like him!”
Eric used to say, grinning delightfully at the Scotty dog in the movie, and nearly rolling with laughter whenever he spoke.