Page 30 of Killer Knows Best (Fallon Baxter FBI Mystery #4)

30

SPECIAL AGENT JACK STONE

O nce we hit Whispering Woods, I practically shove my mother into my cabin after Fallon and Buddy step inside, with the door slamming shut behind us.

She drags her boots against the floor, and for a second, I think she’s going to collapse, but she pulls herself up with a mean wobble.

Jet is on the couch, his full attention glued to the TV screen in front of him, and for a moment he appears pleasantly oblivious to the mess that just walked through the door.

He doesn’t even turn his head until she slurs, “Hey, baby boy! Look who’s here!”

Jet’s face lights up like it’s the greatest surprise of his life.

“Hey, Mom. Where were you all day?” He nods her way, and that tells me everything I need to know. She’s been out, which only means one thing—she’s been using.

I should really consider padlocks to keep her contained.

Within seconds, my mother falls onto him, yelling something incoherent about him being her favorite—most likely true. And soon she’s singing a song about meth, molly, weed—and even throws in black tar heroin for good measure. Yet despite her dicey lyrics, Jet welcomes her back as if she were a long-lost hero, not the wreck of a human she is now.

I can see why she likes him best.

My sister might as well be a ghost and I’m an unappetizing dose of the truth. And the truth is an antivenom to any street drug available.

The hug-fest continues as my mother slurs both adorations and threats in a single breath while I stand here watching my life unravel like a fraying sweater.

My jaw clenches. The anger boils in my gut and the bile rises to the back of my throat. I don’t know who to be more furious with—her, Jet, or myself for egging her on.

“Jet, back off ,” I growl. “She’s high as a kite. This isn’t some warm and fuzzy family reunion.”

Jet pulls away and has the nerve to growl at me in the process. “Calm down, Jack. Don’t make a big deal out of this. This isn’t a thing.”

“A thing? She’s stoned out of her mind,” I say, my voice rising. “You think this is a normal way to act? Never mind, don’t answer that.”

Within seconds, my mother is on her feet and howling an expletive-riddled tirade at me, and I’ve had about as much as I can take. Jet butts his nose to mine as if he’s gunning for a fistfight, and before I can oblige him, Buddy bullets around the room chasing after the cat.

The whole cabin is suddenly too small, too loud, and unsafe. All I want to do is throw my mother and brother outside and lock the door, but instead, I show myself to the exit.

“Care to join me?” I say to Fallon with a nod toward the back porch. “Let’s get out of here before I lose my mind and you’re witness to a double homicide. ”

The frozen air slams into us like a wall once we step outside, but it’s a welcome change from the hated madness inside.

The stars are bright, but there’s no warmth in their light. The trees stand tall and black against the night with their shadows stretching across the frozen ground. The silence out here feels like a shock to my system, compared to the carnage and insanity inside. A welcome shock at that.

We make our way to the back porch where the lake glitters like onyx stars in the background and I offer to make a fire, but Fallon shakes her head.

“Your anger is enough to keep us heated.”

She’s not wrong.

We fall into the overstuffed seats, and it’s all I can do to stare out at the dark as the rage inside me simmers. I can feel it coiling tight around my heart like the venomous snake it is.

“I wish I could go back in time.” My voice is low as I say it. “I’d change things for my family. I’d kick the junk out of my father for being a user, for dragging my mother and the rest of us down to hell with him. Then I’d track down his dealer and kick him senseless before I sent him into the afterlife.”

Fallon sits quiet for a moment as her breath forms a fog in the icy air.

“You’d need to go so much farther back than that,” she says softly. “Much farther back than the dealer. What about his supplier? What about them? There are so many moving parts when it comes to why people use and what life experiences influenced them to do so. You’d have to annihilate the entire human race to really get to the root of the problem.”

She says it like she’s stating a fact, and for some reason, that hits harder than I expect.

I nod while doing my best to swallow down the anger.

“In that case, maybe I’d just go back in time to find you.” The idea of a smile forms and dissolves on my lips. “Maybe I wouldn’t have used and abused. I laced my past with drugs and alcohol, and yet now I’ll spend the rest of my life fighting those demons. I know the statistics, Fallon. The future’s not looking so bright.”

Maybe the only reason I’m really upset is that my mother didn’t invite me to the party.

I give her hand a squeeze, and she doesn’t pull away. Instead, she falls into my lap, and the weight of her body is a comfort against the cold. Buddy darts from around the corner, and soon he’s curling up next to us like he’s part of the conversation.

“You are a balm,” I whisper as I gently brush the hair from her face. “You don’t realize how powerful you’ve been in my life. I would go back in a heartbeat and track you?—”

Fallon places a finger to my lips before I can finish. “I’m sorry to put a pin in your balloon, Stone. But if we were together back then, I would’ve used right along with you. We would both be struggling with addictions to this day—had we survived. And I’m guessing we’d have had a few kids along the way, most likely born in our teens. They would have been taken away by social services, of course. Sure, we’d see them now and again, maybe even get them back for the five minutes we managed to stay clean. But you’d be strung out on something to take the edge off of the chaos, and I’d have mommy guilt on top of that. With no marketable skills, no real schooling, and zero hope, I’d turn tricks in the alley to keep my addiction going—first and foremost. You and the kids would be an afterthought.” She gives me a knowing look. “Hope you enjoy a family dumpster dive for dinner.”

I chuckle, even though there’s nothing funny about it. “Wouldn’t be my first time.”

We fall silent again, the weight of our imaginary mess of a life hanging between us.

“The story never changes,” she says. “It always stays the same. Addiction is a curse straight from the pit of hell. And it just gets passed down, one generation after another.”

“You are a ball of sunshine,” I say with my gaze fixed on the silver horizon of the lake.

“So I’ve been told.”

The sound of the door creaking open steals our attention, and soon my mother stumbles our way with her arms wrapped around herself as she falls into the seat across from us.

Fallon dips her lips next to my ear. “Maybe I should try talking to her,” she whispers, and her hot breath sends shivers rippling through me.

“Good luck,” I mutter.

“Sandy”—Fallon starts with a curt yet friendly tone—“can I ask you something? Do you know a man down in Elmwood by the name of Gunther?”

I’m almost amused she chose to frame it as a question. I think we both know my mother either knows of him or utilizes his so-called protective services. Although the definition of the word protection in this scenario is debatable.

My mother’s eyes flicker with recognition, but her body twitches, jerking with small movements, tweaking from whatever drug cocktail she’s high on.

“Yeah, I know him.” She lifts her chin with a hint of pride, and that singular motion terrifies me. It humiliates me. Makes me want to strangle the life out of every man in Elmwood who may have even looked at my mother sideways.

“He takes care of me,” she slurs while clawing at her arm. “And there’s this woman... she helps with the placements sometimes.”

“Is her name Kiki?” I ask, suddenly interested in what my mother might have to say.

I feel as if I was just hit on the head with a two-by-four. How could I have not thought to quiz my mother on the dirty dealings of Elmwood when that dirty town just so happens to sit square in the nexus of this case? Most likely because I hate that my mother sits squarely in the nexus of it. She could have been killed. It could be her body we were viewing at the morgue.

“Kiki?” Mom’s eyes narrow and she shakes her head a little too fast, a little too erratically. “No, no, it’s not. I think I know who you’re talking about, but it’s not her.”

I don’t believe her for a second. My mother loves attention as much as she loves a good high. She’s not that different from me in that respect.

Jet appears to our right, glowing like the tall, pale, and haunted ghost he is. “Mom, come back in. It’s freezing out here,” he says with a note of frustration in his voice. “Jack, you know she gets pneumonia easy. What are you thinking?” He wraps an arm around her shoulder and hoists her out of her seat. “Come on, Mom. Let’s get you inside.”

No sooner do they disappear than Fallon wraps her arms around me and lands a lingering kiss on my lips.

“I’d better go, too,” she says, pulling back with a mournful smile. “We’ve got a full day ahead of us. Nikki said something about meeting us at the lab before she left. We’ll even let you bring pizza.”

“You are generous,” I say, giving her ribs a tweak and she jumps slightly in my arms. “Thank you,” I say it solemnly and I mean it. “For putting up with all this.”

“For you, any day.”

We indulge in another kiss, a little deeper with more body parts wanting to get involved before she and Buddy head back to their place.

I head for the door and try my best not to let the weight of the night pull me down .

But I don’t get two steps into my cabin when I see it.

Jet and my mother are knocking back beers while laughing at something on television.

And I am livid. But not surprised.

I don’t see why I should be. This is my life.