Only In His Sweetest Dreams(23)

Smirking, because he liked those little asides of hers, he wondered where she was right now. Ferrying the kids from school to daycare didn’t usually take this long. He was sorry he’d missed her, but he was here now, so he strolled behind her desk to examine the windows. The seals had broken in three panes, allowing condensation to cloud the view.

The sound of footsteps halting made him glance over his shoulder.

Mrs. Garvey. Terrific. She pivoted to read a poster, pretending she hadn’t seen him.

Same shit, different neighborhood.

L.C. went back to his inspection, aware of her suspicious attention. He’d need three pair of hands to remove and reinstall, but other than that, this job was only a matter of driving the windows to the glazier for resealing. He thumbed the corner of one, trying to determine how best to pop them out.

“What exactly are you doing?” Mrs. Garvey asked, moving into his periphery.

“Casing the joint.”

She didn’t laugh, but he hadn’t expected her to.

“Mercedes asked me for an estimate on the repairs Zack can’t do.”

She shook her head. “You must have misunderstood.”

L.C. didn’t argue, just held out the list.

She didn’t approach.

Frightening old ladies wasn’t his idea of a fun way to spend an afternoon, but he was so offended, he wouldn’t have read that list aloud on a dare. In fact, he issued one by continuing to hold it out.

When she paled and started diddling her collar button, he took a step, set the list on Mercedes’s desk and went back to his study of the windows.

Why he was so sensitive to her judgment he didn’t know, because it wasn’t like he hadn’t learned to accept that kind of censure years ago. He had never lived up to whatever it was people expected from ‘good’ folk.

“No, these aren’t necessary,” she said from a position well on the far side of the desk. The paper trembled as she read it and she shook her head. “The garden plots? Hardly anyone uses them.”

“They can’t, can they?” Most of the plots had been neglected so long, the dirt was like concrete and the ties holding the dirt in place were crumbling.

“It’s too hot to grow anything. I tried. Nothing took.”

“Tomatoes and peppers do all right in this climate.” He should shut up. Arguing was perverse when he should thank her for relieving him of the task and get on with his life.

“Nightshade plants are hard on the digestive system.”

L.C. resisted the urge to suggest ingesting some nightshade plants might ease that constipated expression off her face. “I’m just doing what Mercedes asked me to do.” And he would mention to Mercedes that a bonus for bullet-dodging might be in order.

“I’ll speak to her,” Mrs. Garvey said to the list. “These jobs need to be handled by someone reputable.”

L.C. watched her set down the list. She reminded him of so many people back home. The word ‘trash’ was only seconds away. Yet he’d never backed down from any of them and wasn’t about to start skulking away now.

“Hiring someone ‘reputable’ is going to cost more, Mrs. Garvey.”

“If you think I’m not aware that having you here will cost in the long run, Mr. Fogarty, then you underestimate my intelligence.” It cost her plenty to say that. Her spine was like re-bar and her mouth smaller than a matchhead. But she was also scared, so he didn’t let loose on her.

“I respect people who say what’s on their mind,” he told her, keeping his voice level, but feeling his street-fighting nerves twitch. “So why don’t you tell me exactly what you think I’m going to do that’s so bad.”

She puckered some more. “You’re freeloading. Anyone can see it.”

“And I’m a bad seed and I’ll never amount to much? My stepmother used to say the same thing. Funny, I thought you a more imaginative woman than her.”

Her eyes went buggy and she gathered herself into a tighter coil. “I’ll defer to her higher knowledge. I’m sure she knows you better than I ever intend to.” Under her breath, she added, “Pity the woman sentenced to raise such a person.”

“I imagine she pities herself, seeing as she was sentenced to prison.” L.C. held her startled gaze. “For arson,” he added. “But I’m sure you’ll want to check that story, make sure I’ve got my facts straight and didn’t pour the gasoline around the house myself.”

He was almost outside when his cell rang. It was Mercedes.



Mercedes was hyperventilating, staring at the front door of the school, her hand soaked in a sweat so numbing she could barely hold her phone.

“Zack wouldn’t do anything to harm those kids,” he said after hearing her out. L.C.’s voice was firm with conviction. “I know that. He took them for ice cream or something.”

“But I told him—”

“I know, and he should know better, but it’s just a matter of catching up to them. I’ll drive around some of the side streets.”

“No! Stay there and call me if they show up. Maybe I just missed them. I’ll drive around.” She sniffed back her fear. “I shouldn’t have asked him to pick them up. It was wrong. What was I thinking? The social worker was going to tell Dayton’s dad about my taking custody. What if she didn’t understand about Ayjia’s father? If she told him…. He’s not right in the head, L.C.”

“Is that a serious possibility?” His voice went so cold and hard, it stopped her heart.

“I don’t know! I’m probably overreacting, but I can’t find them, L.C. Would Zack let someone else take them if—”

“No. He’ll bring them home. We just have to wait.” He sounded grim.

Mercedes used her forearm to push her hair off her damp face, not comforted at all. “I’ll drive around. If I don’t see them in the next few minutes, I’ll call the police.”

“All right.”

She ended the call and started to open her car door, but a woman walked by, pushing a stroller, following a child on a bike. Mercedes thought she recognized the boy.

“Is your son in Miss Scott’s class? Does he know Ayjia?” she asked the woman.

“She’s the new girl,” the boy told his mother.

“I guess he does.” The woman’s smile died as she read Mercedes’s distress.

“I’ve misplaced Ayjia and her brother,” Mercedes said, then asked the boy, “Did you see her after school?”

“She was at the sign up,” the boy said to his mother.

“The sign up?” Mercedes repeated.

“At the high school,” the woman explained. “We just walked up to put Jacob’s name on the list for summer camp. It’s a really popular program. You have to get your name in early. Were they with the teenager with the blue backpack?” she asked her son.

The boy nodded.

“They’re there,” she assured Mercedes. “Two blocks up and two over.”

“Thank you!” Mercedes jumped in her car, clenched her teeth so she wouldn’t speed, and reached the high school in a couple of heartbeats. She parked in the bus turnaround where a few dozen parents hovered in groups. Children played tag nearby.

Zack stood at a table speaking to the two girls behind it. He held a flyer in one hand while Dayton dangled from his elbow. Ayjia clutched his other hand and drained a water bottle. At least they were in the shade.

She texted L.C. that she had them, then climbed from the car.

The girls at the table, a sporty blond and a cute African-American, quit playing with their hair as Mercedes approached. Their welcoming smiles faded to wary ones.

“Zack!” At the last second, Mercedes got a grip and only touched his shoulder, rather than shaking him senseless for the viewing enjoyment of Flagstaff’s stay-at-homes.

“Oh, hey, Mercedes. This is—”

“Let’s talk in the car,” she suggested with a stiff smile. “Or you can stay if you want. Come on, kids. Into the car.”

“But Zack said we could walk home with him and he’d make us mac and cheese.”

“I thought that’s what was going to happen too,” Mercedes said to Ayjia, barely holding a civil tone. “But he didn’t do that so you’ll have to come with me.” She steered them toward the car.

“Mercedes,” Zack called behind her, baffled and defensive.

“Cameron’s mom said I could go to his house to play one day,” Dayton said.

“She did?” Too bad Auntie M wouldn’t be letting either of them out of her sight for the foreseeable future.

“Zack says if we go to summer camp, girls like Holly and Patricia would babysit us,” Ayjia said. “And we can paint and do clay. Can we, Auntie M? Can we?”

“Not right now.” Mercedes checked her watch. If she hurried, she might still catch Gladys at the bus depot. It was a long shot. She wasn’t even sure why she wanted to bother, but if there was a chance to reunite these kids with Porsha—

“But we have to sign up right now or we might not get in,” Ayjia said.

“I don’t want to go to summer camp,” Dayton said.

“It’s not that expensive,” Zack said, coming up to the car.