Love, Alchemy Page 2

  The officers took their time approaching. Other than a quick nervous glance to the backseat, Palmer was the picture of calm and cool collection. “Don’t worry. I got this.”

  “I wasn’t worried,” Davey said flatly.

  The older of the two cops went to the driver’s side while his partner stood at the passenger window. He was a lot younger, Davey noticed. And though his eyes were hidden behind mirrored sunglasses, her gut said those eyes took in everything. She looked at the name plate on his chest: Remington. The cop watched her. Quiet and still in an eerie sort of way, he said nothing. Not even a “good afternoon, miss.” Davey returned his unflinching, mirrored gaze for as long as she could bear it. Then she looked away. “Creeper,” she muttered and folded her arms.

  Palmer was busy giving the older cop an obnoxious lecture. “We both know I was speeding. But you and I also know there’s not a thing you can do about it.” He flashed an insolent but charming smile. He was right. Not only was Palmer’s father a member on the college board, but he was also a powerful judge in Arlow County. The guy used to be one of the top lawyers in the nation and held an unprecedented rate of convictions. The state owed him a lot of favors. And Judge Kinsey didn’t mind collecting again and again. Most often, he only used his authority to keep Palmer out of handcuffs. Throughout his teenage years and early adult life, three hours of community service was Palmer’s harshest punishment. Those around him didn’t fare so well. Palmer’s best friend had done ninety days in county for a second offense.

  Not threatened in the least bit by a privileged brat, the cop removed his sunglasses. His lips pulled back into a disapproving sneer. “Yeah, Mr. Kinsey. Everyone on the force knows who your father is. Quite frankly, I don’t see how such an upstanding guy could sire a twisted little shit like you.”

  “Careful, Officer…Solomon.” Palmer pronounced the name slowly, emphasizing the effort he’d taken to read the name plate. “One phone call to Daddy and you could end up on the graveyard shift permanently. I bet your old lady wouldn’t be too happy about it.”

  Officer Solomon’s blond hair was cut low in a serious buzz. His eyes were cold, flat, and seemed ready to eat Palmer alive. Solomon looked like the type of predator that struck prey with a venomous bite, sat back waiting for the animal to die, and then ate it for an easy dinner. Unfortunately, Palmer was totally ignorant to these clues of Solomon’s nature, and such small misjudgments of character would eventually be bad for him.

  Solomon leaned in close, putting his face only a few inches from Palmer’s. “The thing about kids like you—given enough rope, you eventually hang yourselves.” He paused, letting the words sink in. “Be assured, Mr. Kinsey. I’ll be one of the many who line up to watch you swing. I might even hang from your ankles a while.” Jerking his head in a nod to his partner, Solomon backed up a step. “Slow it down, Mr. Kinsey,” he said and walked away. Remington followed with the rigid stride of a recruit fresh from the academy. The older cop smacked the Buick’s trunk. “Have a nice one, kids.”

  “You should look out for him.” Even as she uttered the warning, Davey didn’t know why she bothered. “He’s got your number.”

  “Babe, I doubt if that guy can count to ten. And he’s gotta get way past that to reach my number.”

  Palmer hit the gas. The GSX responded immediately, eagerly tearing up the blacktop because that’s what it was built for. Swinging the car into a u-turn, Palmer raced by the patrol car doing fifteen miles per hour over the posted speed limit.

  3

  Stepping into Palmer’s hand, Davey grabbed the top of the fence and flipped onto the other side easily, carefully sidling down so as to avoid splinters. Palmer landed beside her a few seconds after her feet touched the ground. She stood quietly, surveying a luscious garden of flowers and a perfectly manicured lawn. The property was amazing.

  “Whose place is this?”

  Grinning roguishly, Palmer grabbed her hand. “I have no idea. Come on.”

  He led her to the edge of an immense, Olympic-sized swimming pool with an adjacent Jacuzzi attached and pulled a beer from the miniature cooler they’d brought along. “Did you bring a suit?”

  She shook her head. “You didn’t tell me we were going swimming.”

  He shrugged. “We don’t have to wear suits.”

  Rolling her eyes, Davey headed toward the huge pool house. “I’ll see if I can find something in here.”

  Luckily the building was unlocked. Smiling, Davey pushed the door open. Not to be outdone by a lavish pool, the inside of the pool house was equally extravagant. It was more like a full-scale home, built to entertain and impress. On a self-guided tour, she eventually found the bedroom and a closet full of swim attire in all sizes. Choosing a black and white string bikini, she slipped it on and went outside.

  Palmer was already in the water, working on a third beer. His eyes lit up when he saw her. “Wow. I think I love you, Davey Little.”

  “Whatever.” She dismissed the comment but did a slow spin to give him the full view. “You should check out the inside of the pool house. It’s pretty great.”

  “I’ve seen it.”

  “You said you didn’t know who owned the place.”

  “I came to a party here but never met the guy who threw it.” He crushed the can and tossed it onto the deck. “Bring me another.”

  Daveigh frowned. Palmer was burning through the six-pack fast, even for him. “What’s up?” she asked, but went over to the cooler anyway.

  “My dad is on my case about my grades. They aren’t the best right now.”

  “You should consider spending more time at the library and less time at frat houses,” she said, stopping at the edge of the pool.

  “Frat parties are lame. I only go to make easy money.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  Palmer took the beer from her outstretched hand. “Since when do you care?”

  Crouched low, Davey watched him quietly. “I care about you, Palmer,” she finally said.

  “Sometimes I can’t tell,” he said softly. “Get in here.”

  It was a rare a moment of openness between them. Such times were a reminder of why they had been so drawn to each other. Standing up slowly, Davey untied her top and tossed it aside before wiggling out of the bottoms. When she slid into the water, Palmer met her halfway and pulled her close.

  “I do love you, Davey,” he whispered, and kissed her gently. As his mouth became hard and urgent, Davey felt herself drift away. She had hoped to feel something, but as usual met only emptiness. So, she went through the motions, pretending for his sake. And when he was spent, she lifted herself out of the water and slowly strode back to the pool house to get dressed.

  Palmer watched sadly as she returned. He said nothing, but Davey felt the pang of guilt anyway. He had done nothing wrong really. Davey just always screwed up everything she touched. And Palmer was no exception.

  4

  The rusted chains squeaked in rhythm with the swing’s low arc. Somewhere in the distance, a raven cawed. Leaves fluttered about in a crisp breeze, adding soft whispers to the existing melody. Davey sat and let momentum propel her higher, trying to quell the thunder inside her mind as she thought of how things used to be.

  Palmer hadn’t taken her home. Davey would never allow that. Instead, he dropped her off at the old, abandoned home of a dead woman who everyone in town used to love. A trail in the backyard twisted through the woods for about a mile and then ended in Resting Pines, a trailer park containing over a dozen single-wide mobile homes all in desperate need of repair. Every day, just as dark started to fall, Davey abandoned her thoughts and the swing set to take the path to trailer number six.

  “Hello.”

  She hadn’t heard anyone walk up, so when the male voice called out the low greeting, Davey was startled. She turned around, saw the navy blue uniform, and almost bolted. Her eyes narrowed in recognition, but she didn’t relax. “No one’s breaking the law around here,” she said. “Yo
u can go away.”

  The cop kept walking toward her. His mirrored aviators hung from his shirt pocket, so this time, Davey could see his eyes. They were a deep grey and reminded her of a sky considering a heavy rain. He was fairly tall. It was easy to see that his uniform hid a well-muscled body, one that probably looked damn hot naked. Had Remington not represented the type of authority Davey loathed, she might have considered him good-looking.

  Losing interest, she turned in the swing. The cop was unwelcome, so Davey intended to ignore him. If he didn’t take the hint and go, she would. It was getting close to dark anyway.

  Again, his voice broke through her thoughts. “What is a creeper?”

  Davey started to spin around until she realized Remington was already in front of her. “Dude, what’s your problem?”

  “As of right now, all systems are functioning normally.”

  “You sound like a freaking robot.”

  Laughing easily, Remington crouched down. It put him below eye-level, since she was still sitting in the swing. “Sorry.” He ran a hand through a high-fade of thick, dark brown hair. “I’m straight out of officer training. Before that it was military school. I may seem a bit stiff at times.”

  Davey nodded slowly. “You’re a rookie.”

  “Yes.”

  “Great.” She pasted an unfriendly smile onto her face. “That’s exactly what this town needs.”

  “I sense you are being sarcastic.”

  “Wow. You’re probably going to make detective soon.”

  For a moment, his brow creased in confusion. Then Remington looked away. Davey regretted making fun of him. He really didn’t seem like a bad guy. “Look,” she said, “it’s nothing personal. Today has just been kind of tough. That’s all.”

  “Today has been rough for me as well. The department likes to have fun with the new kids.”

  Glancing at the sky, Davey stood up. It was time to go. Officer Remington got to his feet as well. His grey eyes held her in place. “I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

  She studied him for a long time. “A creeper is someone who does weird stuff like watch people sleep or bring up crazy stuff normal people wouldn’t talk about.”

  He grinned. “Or stares at someone for extended periods of time?”

  Maybe Remington wasn’t so clueless. Davey resisted the smile tugging at her mouth. “Yeah,” she replied shortly and started walking toward the trail.

  “What’s your name?” he called.

  Davey turned but kept walking backward. “If I meet you again, I’ll tell you.”

  She had no idea she would see Officer Remington again before the night ended.

  *

  “Unit two-two-six what’s your location? Over.”

  Solomon picked up the radio. “We’re headed north on 391. Over.”

  “Two-two-six I need you to turn around. I’ve got a domestic violence with possible child involvement in progress. You are the closest unit. Over.”

  Solomon clenched his jaw and steered the car into a u-turn. “What’s the address, dispatch?”

  “Burnt Pine Lane. Address six. Over.”

  “Is that the Resting Pines trailer park?”

  “Affirmative.”

  “Dispatch, we’re on our way. Over and out.”

  Solomon hit the lights and punched the gas, sparing a glance at his partner. Remington was a rookie. Completely wet behind the ears, the guy had plenty of knowledge but no instinct for the job. The captain expected Solomon to somehow train the sort of competence into the kid that took a good cop thirty years of experience to gain. And he only had six months to do it. Solomon blew out a breath. To make it worse, Remington wasn’t much of a conversationalist. Every time he opened his mouth it was only to ask another damn question.

  “We respond to calls in this trailer park all time. It seems like the worst people in town live there—wife beaters, child abusers, and drug dealers. There are also several drunks, a few whores, and a small time gambling ring.”

  Remington didn’t immediately respond but wore a peculiar expression. He was probably tired. Since his first week, command had the guy pulling a ton of double shifts, riding with a different veteran of twelve years when Solomon was off duty. He had yet to get a good read on the kid but was confident he would. Three decades on the job had made him a pretty good judge of character.

  Solomon knew he’d probably regret it but asked anyway, “Is there something you want to know?”

  Looking at his superior, Remington seemed hesitant. “No.”

  “Oh yeah? Well, I think you do want to ask, but for some reason you’re not.”

  “You don’t like it when I ask questions.”

  Taken aback, Solomon scowled. Maybe Remington had instinct after all. “Okay, yeah. I admit it, because I don’t believe in lying to someone who might have to save my life. In the last eighteen hours, you’ve asked me at least a hundred questions. A guy like you can learn more by listening and observation. You can’t listen if your mouth is constantly flapping.”

  “A guy like me?”

  Solomon bobbed his head. “Yes. A guy like you. You’re smart. You already know everything the book says. Anything I tell you is just redundant. Now it’s time to watch and learn.” He grinned to take the edge off his words. “And make it one hundred and one.”

  Remington appeared perplexed but not offended. “It was only fifty-five. To respect your preferences, I have tried to limit my inquiries to three per hour.”

  Solomon rolled his eyes in exasperation. “For Christ’s sake, where did they find you?”

  Less than ten minutes later, the squad car’s headlights washed the trailer’s front porch in a bath of halogen brightness. The tiny front yard and most of the neighboring lot was illuminated. Seeing pink chunks of color erratically distributed through an otherwise good looking head of blonde hair, Solomon immediately recognized Daveigh Little, even though her face was hidden against folded knees. Hogan, her younger brother, was nestled beneath the girl’s left arm with recently dried tears streaking his face. Huge brown eyes widened even more as Solomon approached. Hogan was small for his age, dirty, and in need of a haircut. But he was a cute kid.

  Solomon had witnessed this scene many times before, but it didn’t make his blood boil any less. “You okay, kids?” Remington stood just behind Solomon, remaining dutifully silent.

  Hogan looked about ready to start bawling again. He turned to his sister, as if expecting her to talk to the scary policemen. She didn’t move. His frightened stare shifted back to Solomon.

  “Hogan, you don’t have to be afraid anymore. We’re here to help.” The boy nodded. “Is your sister alright?” Hogan shook his head. “Are your parents inside?” After a moment, the boy nodded again. “Okay, buddy.” Solomon kept his voice low and comforting. “This is my partner, Officer Remington. He’s a nice guy. I want you to go with him while I talk to your sister.”

  As soon as he said Remington’s name, the girl’s head jerked up. Solomon noted the bruised lip. Next to him, Remington did the right thing. He squatted down to Hogan and smiled. Gently lifting the kid from the porch steps, he carried him over to the squad car.

  Davey tracked his movements. Her attention eventually found Solomon again. “Forget pigs. You guys are like cockroaches. I just can’t seem to get rid of you.”

  He ignored the offensive jab. The girl was hurting. “What happened here, Davey?”

  “Nothing.” She waved her hand dismissively. “I just gotta learn to quit smartin’ off to a couple of drunks.”

  “Did your father hit you?”

  She touched her lip. “No.”

  “Davey—” he began.

  “I said no.” Her eyes flashed with anger. “Go inside and talk to them. They’re the ones with the problem.”

  “It’s your problem too.”

  “Whatever.” She stood up. “Take care of my brother. I’m outta here.”

  Mustering his best “dad voice” to stop her, Solomon called
her name. But the girl just kept walking.

  “Do you want me to go after her?” Remington asked.

  “No. Let her go.”

  Inside the house, Brady and Tina Little had finished their argument and were standing on opposite sides of a small living room. Tina held a cigarette, shakily bringing it to her mouth for another drag. Brady looked ticked off.

  “What happened here?” Solomon addressed the question to Tina, but Brady answered.

  “Nothing. You guys are wasting your time.”

  “I wasn’t talking to you. Shut your mouth.” Solomon pointed at Brady, daring him to speak again. The man folded his arms and looked away, but kept quiet. “Tina, what happened?”

  She looked up nervously. Her left eye was beginning to swell. “We just had an argument. That’s all. Married people fight.”

  “There are healthier ways to work things out.” Solomon glared in Brady’s direction. “I’ll take him in, Tina. At least you and the kids can have a quiet night.”

  The woman shook her head. “No. It’s fine. Daveigh came home looking like that. Her principal called. She got in a fight at school today with a cheerleader.”

  “Are you sure?”

  Her eyes darted to her husband uncertainly, but she nodded. “Yeah. I’m sure.”

  Rubbing the back of his neck, Solomon backed off. He started to leave but memories wouldn’t let him. Shoving Brady against the wall, Solomon pressed his forearm into the man’s throat and corralled Tina’s startled scream to the back of his mind. Without saying a word, he looked into Brady’s face and let his eyes send the message. Then Solomon let go. Brady averted his gaze angrily, but not before nodding in understanding.

  “If I have to come back here, I’m taking you to jail. If your wife won’t press charges, I will.”

  Brady finally looked up. “Where’s my kid?”