Page 9

NINE

KEIRA

Trouble - Valerie Broussard

H arkin left for California twenty-four hours ago, and I’m already scratching at the walls to get out of the house. It’s one thing to be locked away in a cabin in the middle of nowhere, but being tucked away in suburbia makes my skin crawl. Something about the constant noise of cars speeding by, kids screaming in their backyards, and lawn equipment going at all hours of the day sets me on edge. It’s far from the sounds of the city my brain is accustomed to sleep through.

Stacey and James invited me to stay with them while Harkin is away, but they’re right down the street if I need them. At least, that’s the excuse I gave Harkin when he demanded I stay with them until he was back. I love my best friend, but her situationship isn’t something I want to butt in on.

“Cinder,” I call through the house. “Let’s go for a run, my sweet girl,” I tell her when she pads down the hall, stopping before me.

She hates clipping into her harness and lead after months of being off-leash in the woods. Her breed likes to wander, but her recall is astounding. That doesn’t matter here when the town has leash laws. She hates to be chained, and I know the feeling all too well.

The lead clicks around my waist, and I pop my headphone in, syncing it to my phone in case Harkin calls, and open my music app. Spotify’s Daylist refreshes and pops up with the title Euphoric Art Deco Early Morning. I go with it and start at a slow warm-up pace.

The quaint houses pass by as we make our way toward the center of the small town about two and a half miles away. There’s a dog-friendly coffee shop I pinpointed during our first couple of days here. Harkin didn’t seem to think there’d be an issue with us going out, but he reminded me to keep my name to myself and our reason for being here ambiguous.

I slow our speed as we approach the shop and wipe the sweat from my face with my sweatshirt before peeling it over my head and tying it around my waist. Instead of a drive-thru, which doesn’t seem necessary in this place, they have an outside walk-up window surrounded by outdoor furniture to enjoy your coffee.

“Hi, what can I get for you?” the barista asks, too cheerful for seven a.m. in my opinion.

“Iced vanilla Americano with a splash of cream. Thanks.” I pay and usher Cinder over to the dog water fountain.

“She’s beautiful.” A voice startles me from my crouched position. I stand, gripping my cell and patting my thigh where I know my knife is tucked safely away.

“Yeah, she is. Thanks,” I reply and shift, putting Cinder between me and the man trying to make small talk.

“So, are you new to the area? I don’t think I’ve seen you around here, and I’m here daily for this.” He holds a pale green drink you couldn’t pay me to try.

“Yeah, we’re just getting settled. Haven’t had much time to explore yet,” I share, hoping he’ll take the hint that it isn’t just me.

He doesn’t look threatening. He has no tattoos or gun bulges, which I would definitely be able to see in the tight athletic wear he’s sporting. Your typical suburban middle-aged man, who probably has a wife and a couple of kids at home but is ready to hit on anyone who catches his attention.

“Hadley,” the barista calls, giving me an out.

I excuse myself and walk to the window, grab my coffee, and head for the exit path. He doesn’t seem to take that as an end to our conversation.

“Hadley, is it?” He looks me up and down, blatantly checking me out, and I don’t hide the disgusted look from taking over my face.

I glance at his left hand, and right there for everyone to see is the wedding ring I expected. He steps in my path, and Cinder growls, standing between us. I don’t chastise her behavior; she can read the situation.

His self-preservation kicks in as he steps back. “I just wanted to introduce myself. I’m Keith. If you’re ever looking for a running partner, I’m over on Sitka Drive.” He holds his hand out, but I let it hang in the air between us.

Maybe I’m used to the city where people mind their own fucking business and let you move along your day without interrupting it, but apparently that isn’t the mindset here. I know we need to blend in, but a city girl can only fake it so much.

“Thanks, but I usually run with my partner. He’s just busy this morning.” I make to move past him again, and this time, he lets me.

“See you around, Hadley,” he calls after me, and I send a prayer to the universe to not let that happen.

Cinder and I walk back toward the house, but I decide to take a detour to the place James and Stacey are renting. Logically, I know the coffee shop incident is nothing more than an overly friendly and flirtatious neighbor, but I’m not trying to lead Keith back to our place, just in case.

Knocking on their front door, I sip the last bit of iced coffee from my cup and wait for an answer. James pulls back the door and looks at me, surprised.

“What are you doing? You didn’t tell me you were on your way over. And where did you get that? Did you go out?”

“Woah, there, buddy. One question at a time.” I laugh and walk into their place. “Where’s Stace?”

He joins me in the kitchen and gives me an incredulous look, telling me all I need to know about my bestie’s whereabouts. That girl’s still tucked in bed, snoring, no doubt.

“Why didn’t you text you were coming over? I would have come picked you up.”

“I was bored and wanted to get out of the house. A coffee sounded good, so I stopped there first. But—” I let my sentence drop off, more so to annoy him than anything else. James seems to have the patience of a saint, but that doesn’t mean I don’t find joy in trying to push him over the edge whenever I have the chance.

“But, what?”

“I think we might need to look into someone here in town. It’s probably nothing, but to be safe, you know?” I shrug and go to their fridge, looking for a bottle of water.

“Help yourself,” he says with fake annoyance as I pull it out with a cup of yogurt. “So, who is this person you think we need to check out? What happened while you were out?”

“His name’s Keith. He lives on Sitka Drive. I’m pretty sure he’s just your typical piece of shit husband. Oh, and we should probably not tell Harkin he was hitting on me.”

“I’m not telling him shit about that. The last thing we need while we’re laying low here is a murderous Harkin on the loose because you couldn’t stay out of the public eye for a few days.”

“It’s fine, James. He wouldn’t—No, you’re right.” I let out a little laugh. “So, you think you can find this guy?”

“You wound me. Shit, with everything Harkin told me he taught you, I’m surprised you can’t do it yourself.”

“I could. But I figured someone else should know in case I go missing again.”

“Jesus, help me,” he pleads and pops open his computer on the counter.

“I don’t think we have any sway with him,” I joke, trying to pull a smile from him. It doesn’t work. He ignores me while tapping away at the keys.

“Keith Sullivan, forty-two, married with three kids. He’s a broker for a firm in the city, but works at a local office here in town. No prior arrests. A couple of speeding tickets. Nothing that seems important to our situation.”

“I figured. Thanks.”

“No problem. Have you heard from Harkin this morning?” he asks.

“Yeah. He’s getting stuff settled with his mom. He wanted to check her into an inpatient center, but she isn’t making things easy. He might have to hire help for the house and extra security for her so she feels safer. He told me he found something but didn’t want to share it over the phone. Did he tell you what it was?”

“He’s got a lead. But shit isn’t looking good for his father. Your father’s men took him; it might not be as easy as we hoped to get him back. Though I’m not sure if that’s Harkin’s MO anymore.”

“Did he tell you what the lead is? Maybe we can start getting shit together here for when he gets back.”

“You should probably talk with him first.”

These two piss me off with all their little boys club secrets. James is beyond loyal to Harkin. Which was great, unless I’m trying to get information from him, and he’s sealed up like Fort Knox. I don’t want to wait for Harkin to get back in a few days to plan our next move. Maybe there’s something I know that could help with whatever it is he’s learned in California.

Harkin isn’t the only one with connections that can be useful to us. It’ll mean going back into the city, and I’m sure that’ll go over about as well as an erection in a nunnery. But if they don’t know, how much trouble could it be?