Wrecked (Josie Gray Mysteries #3)(60)

She laughed and looked at Otto as if he had a third eye. “My boys don’t wear jewelry. You’re barking up the wrong tree.”

Otto gave up. He thanked the Conroys for their time and he and Dave left.

On the drive back to the elementary school Dave was quiet.

“I appreciate you taking me to your parents’ home,” Otto said.

Dave glanced away from the road at Otto, and offered a sad smile.

“Were you close to your parents?” he asked.

“I don’t know about close. Even as a young boy my parents were distant to me. I’m afraid I was a disappointment to them.”

“How so?”

“I was raised in a small village in Poland. My parents wanted me to come to America to become a doctor. I tried but it just wasn’t in me.” Otto shrugged, the old melancholy never far away. “Delores and I went back home but,” he paused, searching for the words that would describe his homeland, his family. “Home was never the same. I could see it in my parents’ eyes. So Delores and I moved back here to raise our own family. We became citizens and left Poland for good. It was a heart-wrenching decision, but the right one for us.”

Dave nodded at Otto, acknowledging the story. Dave was a man with a perpetual positive attitude, and Otto was surprised at the sadness now in his eyes.

“For reasons I’ll never completely understand, I’m a disappointment as well. I never fit in with my family,” Dave said. “I’m like that old kids’ story. The ugly duckling. When I was in elementary school, I fantasized about switched-at-birth scenarios. I imagined doctors in white coats knocking at our door and explaining it had all been a mistake, that I actually belonged to a different family. And they’d drive me to a house in the suburbs. My new mom would bake cookies and my dad would pitch a baseball to me in the backyard.” He glanced at Otto again. “Pretty sick, huh?”

“I don’t think that fantasy is sick at all. It’s called coping. By the time you get to be my age you realize there aren’t good or bad families. They’re pretty much all screwed up in one way or another.”





EIGHTEEN


Josie arrived at Wally’s Folly at a little after three in the afternoon with an agenda. It was important that Hec trust her, but it was even more important for him to understand the danger he was in. Having no kids of her own, she could only guess at his mental state, and she hoped he would realize her intention was to help.

She pulled up in front and warily got out of her car, watching the chain press into the growling Rottweiler’s neck as it strained to reach her. The chain looked securely wrapped around a metal laundry pole, but just in case, she placed a hand on the Beretta in her belt and slammed her car door.

Josie peered to the back of the salvage yard. The Rio flowed far enough down the bank that she couldn’t see whether anyone was on the other side of the river keeping tabs on Hec. She walked up the stairs to the trailer door and knocked.

Hec opened the flimsy metal door, but left the screen door latched. Josie knew it would take little more than a strong kick to gain entrance. It seemed such inadequate protection against the danger he was facing. Hec squinted at her as if the sun hurt his eyes. Josie thought he looked even more pale than the last time she saw him. He said nothing.

“How’s it going?” she asked.

He lifted a shoulder and tilted his head in response.

“I need to talk with you, Hec. Can you come outside a minute?”

He unlatched the screen and pulled both doors closed behind him, setting off the dog again. At the bottom of the steps Hec turned toward the Rottweiler, straining on his leash and whining for Hec’s attention. The doghouse was located under a tree at one end of the trailer, but the chain kept the dog about fifteen feet from the front door.

“Is he friendly?”

“He’s never snapped at me. People say they’re mean dogs, but he’s got a good nature about him.” Hec kneeled in the dirt and buried his head in the dog’s neck. “Come here, Buck. Come here. That’s a good dog.” He finally stood and noticed that Josie was watching him.

“My dad’s still not here.”

“I know, Hec.”

“So why are you here again?”

“I think it’s time you made some choices. I think you’re in a really bad place, and you need help. I know I’m a cop, probably the last person you want to trust, but I’m here to try and make things better.”

“Why?”

“Why do you need help?” she said.

“No. I mean, why do you want to help me?”

“I’m a cop, Hec. It’s my job to help people when they’re in trouble. It’s not all handcuffs and tickets and mug shots. What I want is to help you sort out things. And I’m afraid if you don’t let me, there’ll be bad trouble. Real trouble, not just threats. I’m not here to screw you over, but I’m afraid other people might be.”

Hec didn’t respond. Josie noticed a bead of sweat rolling down his temple and continued. “I’m going to tell you what I know, and I hope you’ll do the same,” she said. “Maybe between the two of us we can figure out a solution. Is that a deal?”

He studied her. “Maybe.”

She nodded slowly. “Okay. That’s fair enough.”