Page 35 of Forever Finds Us (Wisper Dreams #7)

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Brand

“Mr. Lee, you know I can’t give you the information you’re asking for,” Mrs. Buckley said, leaning back in her chair behind her desk in her office.

Three framed, black-and-white photographs of redwood trees adorned the wall behind her.

She shook her head. “I’m offended you thought you could buy it from me. ”

Roxanne tensed in the chair next to mine. She hadn’t liked my plan to try to bribe Dixon’s whereabouts from the rehab director.

“Your brother was here. You already know that since you checked him in yourself and paid for his treatment, but the second he entered our system and you walked out the door, his information became mine to protect and keep.

“I don’t know the answer to the question you’re asking. Your brother is not here anymore, and I don’t know where he went after treatment. I don’t know if he’s sober, and even if I did know, I wouldn’t tell you.”

She stood and smoothed her hands down her jeans and an oversized pumpkin-orange sweater. She seemed younger than I remembered, but her dark hair had already begun to gray at her temples.

“I’m sorry you came all this way. I thought I made myself clear over the phone, but it’s your dime. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a job to do, other brothers to help, other sons, daughters, sisters, mothers, and fathers. Money doesn’t make yours more important.”

I stood, too, intending to beg harder just as a knock sounded on her office door.

“Come in, Ernesto,” she said, and a short man with unhealthy, pockmarked skin entered the room.

The man looked nervous. He bit the inside of his cheek as he looked at me, Roxanne, and then the director. “Carina said you needed me?”

“Yes. This is Dixon Lee’s brother. He was just leaving. Would you mind escorting him and his friend to the exit?”

Ernesto’s face lit up at the mention of Dixon’s name, but then his eyes flicked back and forth between Mrs. Buckley and me. “Uh, sure?”

“Thank you.” She glanced at Roxanne and me one last time. “Good day, Mr. Lee, Ms. Fitts, and good luck.”

When she was gone, Ernesto swung his hand toward the door. He seemed proud but confused to have been asked to escort us. The rehab ran out of a large house in the center of town. We couldn’t really get lost.

He didn’t say anything as he led us to the front door, but when we got there, he turned. “You hear about Dixon’s baby mama?”

“Uh, yes,” I said. “He told me.”

“She was pretty fucked up.” His eyes roamed up and down Roxanne’s body. “Lady, you’re tall.”

Roxanne laughed, and I wanted to kiss her for reminding me there was good in the world.

The dated house was depressing, the lightless beige color of the walls leaching hope from my chest, and the awkwardness of the entire situation festered beneath my skin.

As well-maintained as the old house was, I couldn’t imagine living here.

I hated that Dixon had to. I wanted to be outside in the fresh air and sunshine, and I was sure it was how Dixon had felt too.

I was ashamed that I’d tried to use money to get what I wanted. This wasn’t business. But I was even more irritated that it hadn’t worked.

“Thanks, Ernesto,” Roxanne said. “Do you usually escort people out?”

“Nope. And don’t call me that. Name’s Nesty, you know, like Postie?

This is a first for me, but since we’re here and we’re both attractive adults, you wanna pass me your digits?

I’ve got twenty-three days sober this time, and my uncle’s holdin’ a job for me up in Alaska on his fishin’ boat. Pays good money. I could take you out.”

“Thanks, Nesty,” she said. “I’m flattered you asked, but”—she took hold of my hand and squeezed, and when I looked at her, she flared her eyes and nodded suggestively toward Ernesto—“I think my man here might have somethin’ to say about it.”

“Your man?” he said, looking me up and down in barely muted disappointment. “Pft. This dude seems like a stuffy suit. Dixon was cooler.”

Catching on, I said, “Dixon is definitely cooler than me. You guys are friends?”

Ernesto nodded and puffed out his small chest. “The best.”

“Well then maybe you can help us. I’m tryin’ to contact my brother. Our mama’s sick. Dixon needs to know.”

“You the oldest brother or the other one?”

“The other one.” I held my hand out. It took a minute, but he finally reached for it and shook it. “Brand Lee.”

“You’re the rich brother.”

“I wouldn’t say?—”

“Yeah,” he said, “but you got money. If I tell you what I know, would you do somethin’ for me?”

“Yes,” I said, as Roxanne squeezed again and said, “Depends on what it is.”

But Ernesto was done flirting with her. Now that he knew who I was, all his attention stayed fixed on me.

“I got a kid too,” he said. “Two kids actually. I haven’t seen ’em in a couple years. They live with their mom’s parents. You know how that goes.” He rolled his eyes.

“Uh, yes, I can imagine that’s hard for you.”

“Yeah, well, I deserve it, but they don’t. And my ex says they’re strugglin’. Her dad took a job at Home Depot on the weekends to help out, but they’re older. They’re on social security, and you know that ain’t shit these days.”

“If I sent them some help…” I hinted.

“Then I’d probably feel real friendly towards you. I’d be grateful and all that bullshit.”

“Consider it done,” I said, fully planning to keep my word, if he kept his and told me where my brother was. Probably even if he didn’t.

“There’s an old logging company. They ain’t in business no more, but that’s not my point.

If you look on a map and find McCaffrey Logging out by Mad River, follow the road it’s on with your finger.

Go north. And about an inch further up the map, you’ll find a house and an old couple.

The Coulters. They’re hippies if you ask me, but they’re good folks.

You’ll find your brother there. They take in junkies in recovery and give ’em a place to sleep and work till they’re ready to face the world again. ”

“Thank you.” Surprising myself and Ernesto, I reached out and hugged him. “Thank you so much. You have no idea how badly I need to find Dixon.”

“Yeah, well, just don’t tell him I outed him,” he said awkwardly as I stepped away. “He won’t be happy with me for that. Better to tell him Buckley gave up the goods.”

“We won’t say a word,” Roxanne assured him.

“Your kids,” I reminded him. “Where do they live? What are their names?” I pulled my phone from my pocket and typed in a new contact entry.

“Their grandparents are Opal and Marcos Martinez. They live down near Sacramento. My kids are Gabe and Eden. They deserve better than the shit me and their mom gave ’em. A little donation from you could go a long way, but don’t tell ’em I had anything to do with it.”

“Mad River? Is it a river or a town?” Roxanne asked as she scissored her fingers over her cell phone’s screen and zoomed in on northwestern California. “It sounds like somethin’ out of a thriller movie. I really hope it’s not a cult or some kind of serial-killer camp.”

Despite the urgency I felt to get on the road, I snorted.

“What?” she said with an adorable smile.

“I doubt it’s either of those things.” Pulling up a search for Mad River on my phone, I said, “Look. It’s both. There’s a river that runs through a tiny place called Mad River. From the pictures, it doesn’t look sinister. Just looks remote.”

Roxanne rested her head on my shoulder and glanced at the screen. “It looks like the perfect place to go to grieve and come to terms with sobriety. I hope that’s what Dixon found there anyway. He’s been through a lot.”

“Yeah.”

“Here you are, sir,” a young guy said when he returned to the rental car booth and handed me a set of keys. “We’ll see you back here in two days. Drop off time is noon or before.”

“Thank you. Do you have a map of the area? Like an actual paper map in case we lose our cell signal?”

“Yeah, there’s one in the glove box. Complimentary.”

“Thanks,” Roxanne said.

On the lot, we found our silver Jeep Compass and settled in.

“I haven’t rented a car in a long time,” I said.

“No?”

I shook my head. “Tab makes arrangements if I travel, but I’ve been so busy with work, I haven’t really had the time lately. Besides, someone usually picks me up or sends a car.”

“What was it you said? ‘Money talks’? Sounds more like money chauffeurs you around like a princess.”

Laughing, I said, “Yeah, maybe, but you haven’t seen me work. Ain’t no princesses on my job sites.” I ended the sentence with a cocked eyebrow, and Roxanne licked her lips.

“I might like to see that.”

“I bet you would.”

“Quit flirtin’ with me, and let’s go find your brother.”