Wrecked (Josie Gray Mysteries #3)(62)

The garlic and onions were fresh, and she had a bag of potatoes in the pantry, so in the end she decided on a standing rib roast. As she pulled the roasting pan from the bottom shelf of the pantry she thought about Mina. She and Mike and their two kids lived in Odessa, too far away for a quick visit or Sunday dinners. A visit had to be an overnight thing, harder to make time for. Delores missed cooking for the family. Growing up in a Polish household with nine kids, she had spent many hours in front of the kitchen stove with her mother. Poor Otto paid the price now. She knew he had little willpower, but she couldn’t resist baking the cakes and conjuring up the dumplings and stews of her childhood.

Delores plopped the five-pound bag of potatoes on the counter and began washing and peeling. Her thoughts drifted to Hector Follet. Delores knew the boy’s father, Wally. He’d actually once dated, if you could call it that, the daughter of Delores’s friend. Sheila Gordon was a nice girl but clearly had no common sense when it came to men. She had been smitten, and it had just about sent her mother to an early grave.

Delores had told Sheila’s mother, Maggie, “It’s probably the boy Sheila’s fond of. She probably feels sorry for him, and wants to give him a good home.” Delores would never forget the appalled look on Maggie’s face. “It’s not the boy. It’s him. That man! Sheila says she’s in love. I didn’t raise her this way. The man is a degenerate. He sleeps around with any woman who will have him. He neglects that boy. He’s practically let the boy raise himself.” Maggie had lowered her voice to barely above a whisper, as if too humiliated to hear the words spoken aloud. “He stays all night at Sheila’s house and lets his son stay home alone. What kind of father does that? And my daughter? Allowing it!?”

This had been two years ago. Hector had been in high school then. Delores wondered if Sheila had ever gotten herself straightened out. In the notepad on the counter by the kitchen phone she scribbled, Call Maggie.

*

When Josie returned to the picnic table, Hector came back to join her. He’d lost the smile he’d had when petting the dog. He looked miserable again. He looked ill.

“Okay. Here’s what I’d like to do,” Josie said. “I’d like to get you away from this place for the evening. I suspect you haven’t left the yard since your dad left.”

“I can’t leave.”

“Because of the men at the river?”

He closed his eyes and nodded once.

Josie was shocked. It was the first time he’d actually admitted the men were down there. “Do you know how many men?”

“There’s usually two.”

“Can you see them from here, at the trailer?”

He glanced toward the river and shook his head. “When someone pulls up they disappear. As soon as your car leaves they’ll park their pickup truck right across the river where I can see it.”

“I have an idea. Come with me.”

He stood, looking at her in surprise, and followed her to the jeep. She got a plastic bag containing something from the gun shop out of her backseat. “Can we go inside your trailer?”

Josie followed him inside and dumped the contents of the bag onto his coffee table. She wanted to ask him to open a few windows. The living room was still neat, but it smelled like sour milk. It smelled like the house of someone who lived in fear, too afraid even to open the doors for fresh air.

“I bought these yesterday for my own house,” she said. “They’re timer switches that connect to lamps. You program them to turn on and off at various times so that it looks as if you’re home.”

Hec grinned. “That’s pretty slick.”

“We can install these on a couple of your lamps, and you’re free for a night.” She could see the question beginning to form in his eyes. “You don’t need to drive. You ride with me. I was talking to a friend of mine on the phone a minute ago. His wife, Delores? She’s the best cook I’ve ever met. She wants to make dinner for all of us. She knows your situation. She wants to make you dinner, give you a little vacation. What do you say?”

The words caught in her throat. Josie guessed it had been a long time since Hector had been treated that way. Otto had told her that Hec’s mom had left when he was in the third grade; about the same age that Josie had been when her dad was killed. It made her suddenly very sad for him, knowing how much her own loss had cost her growing up.

Josie could see in his face that he was conflicted: leave and face the possible wrath of the men across the river? Leave and possibly miss his father’s phone call or visit? Or stay and spend one more night suffocating between the walls of the trailer?

“You’ll bring me home tonight?”

“Whatever time you want. We can park down at the Rio Camp and Kayak and you can walk back to your trailer so you don’t have cars showing up late at night. I’ll walk with you to make sure you get home safe.”

With his eyebrows still knitted together in worry, he finally agreed.

*

After installing the timers, Hec backed out of the front of the trailer, positioning a small rubber ball just inside the door so that when he arrived home, he could tell if anyone had opened the door. Josie wondered who he thought might enter his home while he was gone: his dad, maybe a business partner his dad had screwed over, the men by the river, or the cartel coming back to finish what they had started?