The Lost Prince Page 16

  “Oh, God no,” Katie said. “My dad is awesome. They suspect something. They’re worried it’s drugs. I don’t know how to tell them.”

  Cal motioned to the bench and sat alongside the girl. “I’m a policeman in New York,” he told her. “I hear a lot of stories, see a lot of things.” He took out a picture of his family. “I’m also the dad of a little girl. If you’d like to tell me something, I’ll keep it between us—unless you want me to help you.”

  “I…”

  The words stuck in her throat. She choked on them. Cal had seen this before on calls for domestic disturbance. Katie seemed caught between telling a complete stranger about the most painful and humiliating event of her life, and keeping it bottled in, where he knew it would fester and grow like a living poison, ready to suffocate the last vestiges of her sanity. Callum could only guess what happened, but she needed to say it. Katie, no doubt, believed it was something she could move on from, like burying a beloved pet. But it wasn’t. Katie was in jeopardy of becoming withdrawn and following a negative track in her life, driven by a sense of worthlessness and powerlessness. Cal had seen this too often.

  “I was—I was—he forced me,” she finally got out.

  Cal put his arm around her. She collapsed into his arms and cried. Cal dreaded his next question. He knew nothing of his prince. The boy looked innocent enough in the photos, but many people hid their anger issues in public.

  “Was it Daniel? Did he hurt you?”

  Katie pulled away like Cal had just shouted a string of obscenities. She was angry.

  “Daniel is the most decent person I’ve ever met in my life,” she said. “He’s the truest friend anybody … If I hadn’t been so … to have an older boy…” The oxygen had run out and Katie was trying to adjust. She took a second to compose her thoughts.

  “Josh came looking for me after he attacked me. He wanted to rewrite history—convince me that what happened didn’t really happen. That it was a ‘misunderstanding.’ I was afraid. But Daniel found me first, and I knew—I just knew I’d be okay.

  “Danny stood between Josh and me even though Josh outweighed him by twenty pounds. And he took Josh’s punches for me and he just punched back and he never begged him to stop or ask for mercy. He took it all for me even after I hurt him by taking up with that asshole. And then his father…”

  “Daniel’s father? You mean Clyde?”

  “Yeah. He was there at the fight. Making out in his pickup with some floozy. He was so mad that Daniel caught him cheating.”

  Katie began to cry again. “I can just imagine Clyde going home drunk and angry. Daniel was only at that baseball field because of me. And now he’s gone and the police want to arrest him.” Katie began to hyperventilate. Cal rubbed her back gently. Her panic attack subsided after a moment.

  “It’s my fault that he had to kill his dad,” she continued. “Adrian’s right … Daniel deserved better.”

  “I don’t think he’d agree,” Cal said. The girl’s intensity stunned him. She was too young to have so many adult problems. He waited a moment until she was calm and said, “You should tell your parents.”

  Katie panicked and shook her head. “NO!”

  “Then what?” Cal asked calmly. “Are you better off than you were a few days ago? Is time helping? You look like you haven’t slept. Keeping this secret will change the person you are; the person that Daniel loved. And think about this … your story would help Daniel’s case in the eyes of the law.”

  “It would?”

  “Self-defense is the only legitimate reason to kill someone. He wouldn’t do jail time. Katie, there are professionals who will help you work through the pain and help you get back to the person you were. If it were my daughter, I would want to know. I would still love her, and I would not blame her. It’s harder than you think for a daughter to disappoint her father. I hope there’s some part of you that realizes this.”

  She sat stiffly for a while. Eventually she nodded.

  They walked to the car and joined Seth and Adrian.

  “Adrian, you go on to school,” Cal said. “We’re going to drive Katie home. She isn’t feeling well.”

  They headed for the Millar residence several blocks away.

  Hearing Daniel’s friends speak so loyally of the boy lifted Callum’s spirit. These were the people who knew the prince best. For Danel to overcome such obstacles as his adopted parents, and still turn out honorable, brave, and loyal to his friends filled Callum with a new hope and a reenergized vigor to save him. This was the kind of leader Aandor had been waiting for—the type of prince who could unite the old empire. He had to find Daniel. Cal would not let his prince down, just as he was sure his prince would not let him down if the roles were reversed. For the first time, Cal allowed himself a glimmer of optimism that things may not be as bad as they could be.

  They dropped Katie off and headed toward the school to speak to the principal. Callum’s cell phone rang—his permanent phone, not the disposable. He didn’t recognize the number, and didn’t have his Bluetooth set up, so he handed the phone to Seth. “See who it is.”

  Seth began with a simple “hello.” He turned eerily quiet and the blood drained from his face. Shaken, he handed the phone back to Callum. “You really ought to take this.”

  “Who is it?” Callum asked.

  “He has the kid.”

  “Who does? Who’s on the phone?” Cal repeated.

  “The detective. It’s Colby Dretch.”

  CHAPTER 14

  TARDS ON A PORCH

  1

  Daniel opened his eyes to the morning sun creeping through Luanne’s venetian blinds. She was missing from the bed; he wondered if last night had been just a dream. He sat up and pulled the covers back—his lover’s lingering scent, and the crusted stains on the sheets, confirmed their deed. Parts of the bed were still damp. His health education teacher never mentioned how messy sex was.

  In all the ways Daniel imagined losing his virginity, if it ever was going to happen, seduction by a hot, older trailer park sex kitten never crossed his mind. What was Luanne thinking? All those movies where parents freak out because their teens are left alone overnight finally made perfect sense. The only restraint is the will not to do it, and that’s as effective as a paper roof in a hailstorm.

  Daniel shuffled out of bed. The room was warm, the vent grate hot to the touch. Slipping into his jeans, he padded out into the kitchen to scrounge a bite. There was leftover corn bread on the counter.

  Daniel heard giggling on the back porch. He peeked out the kitchen window to find a cool, sunny day, with wind rippling along the lake. Tiny waves crashed along the shore.

  Luanne was on the vinyl loveseat, dressed in a red blouse and jeans that looked spray-painted on. She sat flirtatiously close to a heavily tattooed man who was wearing a white T-shirt, worn denim vest, and camouflage pants. His size-twelve construction boots were planted on the cable spool table and Luanne had her hand on his lap. An old black Cadillac DeVille convertible the size of a boat was parked on the grass behind the porch.

  Daniel was so distracted by Luanne’s proximity to the wannabe cracker, he almost didn’t notice the fat girl with the spiderweb tattoo on the side of her neck sitting to the side. Plastered with black mascara, she had metal piercings in her nose, ears, and eyebrows, and was dressed in loose-fitting black polyester clothes. Her dyed jet-black hair made her skin look almost as pasty white as Colby Dretch.

  The phone rang. No one attempted to pick up, so Daniel answered. “Bev’s place,” he said.

  “You working as Bev’s secretary, now?”

  Daniel was pleased to hear Colby’s gruff tenor. How sad that this washed-up old transient constituted his only friend right now.

  “Where are you?” Daniel asked. The fat chick cackled at something funny. He saw Luanne laughing, too, but the guy was stone-faced.

  “Up north,” Colby said. “My past is nipping at my heels, Dan. Bev fronted me a loan and I’m doing pro
active damage control with the people I worked for.”

  Colby was always sketchy about his work. Dan had no clue about the man’s profession. “When’ll you be back?” he asked. The girls were looking at something Daniel couldn’t see. The guy smoked a cigarette, and looked off in the other direction.

  “Tomorrow night—day after at the latest. You sound distracted.”

  For a homeless alcoholic, Colby was oddly astute. It wasn’t the first time Daniel noticed the man’s honed instincts. On the bus ride down from Baltimore, Colby came off as one of the most introspective men Daniel had ever met. He shared a lifetime of experience freely with the boy. Daniel, in need of more wisdom than he possessed at the time, was drawn to the man.

  “I’m good,” Daniel said, leaving the window area for the living room. “Bev bought barbecue last night.”

  “Good for her. Is Luanne treating you okay? She can be a ball buster.”

  “Uh—she’s nice enough. We watched TV last night.” Daniel looked around for his other sketch pad, which he was sure he’d left on the couch last night.

  “Good to hear,” Colby said. “You hang tight. I’ll only be another day or so. Once the heat on you dies down, I’ll help you get your life straightened out. Just promise me a couch to crash on if ever I need it.”

  “I’ll have a guest room just for you, Colby.”

  They ended the call with an awkward exchange of niceties, and Daniel went back to observing Luanne and her friends. Daniel realized he was having a stupid reaction to Luanne’s fawning over this guy. Last night had been a one-time deal—there was no heat in the trailer and they made some together to keep warm, but that was it … no more fun with Luanne. He couldn’t risk it. Against his better judgment, Daniel walked out to the back porch with his corn bread.

  The man ignored Daniel’s entrance onto the scene and lit another cigarette. His left arm was covered in tats of devil heads, skulls, and hot naked women with demon tails and horns mostly rendered in red, white, and black. Around his throat was inked a line of barbed wire and on his right inner forearm, a detailed rendering of a .357 Magnum with skeletal fingers around the grip and smoke emanating from the muzzle, trailing up behind the elbow. He guessed the guy was in his early twenties, but something about him looked older than that. His teeth were stained and he was muscularly cut, with three days of dark blond stubble and a nascent mullet.

  “Danny! Come meet my beau, Cody,” Luanne said. “And this is his cousin Eljay.” The girl had an unwashed look about her, and must have known it because she was doused with enough cheap perfume that dogs in Baltimore could probably smell her. “This is Mama’s houseguest I told you about,” she explained to them.

  Daniel wished for a relationship that just once didn’t involve triangles or the potential to get one’s ass kicked. Cody stared at him like he was a bug. Dan could hardly blame Cody for not being pleased—a strange teenage boy suddenly moves into his teen nympho girlfriend’s trailer out of the blue—had to be a nightmare for the guy. Heck, Luanne had liked Daniel for barely half a day, and he was already jealous of Cody for being her “beau.” No way Cody knew that something went down last night—he’d already be stomping on Daniel face with his boot. Or did he know…? Did Luanne and Cody have an open arrangement? Was Luanne that detached from reality?

  Cody’s stare had gone beyond rude and was bordering on creepy. There was something primal in the glare—as though he could subconsciously smell Luanne’s scent on him.

  “Is there something you want to say?” Daniel asked.

  Cody reached toward Eljay and snatched Daniel’s sketch pad from her. With a quick snap, he flung it at Daniel. Daniel caught it awkwardly, dropping his corn bread. To his relief, it was his old pad, not the one with the nude. That one was still in Luanne’s bedroom where he’d been working on it the previous night. This pad had the drawings of Luanne fully clothed—well, relatively fully clothed for her—watching television.

  Cody took another drag on his cigarette—his eyes said, Stop staring at my girlfriend.

  “Cody, don’t be a jerk,” Luanne scolded. “I only showed you ’cause he made me so pretty. Why don’t you buy it and hang it in your bedroom?”

  “I don’t have to buy somethin’ tha’s already mine,” Cody said. He blew smoke at Daniel.

  That tiny molecule of reason in Daniel’s brain was back, telling him to shut up and walk back into the house. Instead, he said, “Renderings belong to the artist.” Daniel intended to keep all the drawings of his first lover … no matter how dumb she was.

  Cody stood. He was taller than Daniel realized—at least six foot two. He yanked the pad from Daniel’s hands and thumbed through sloppily, ripping out the drawings of Luanne.

  Daniel wanted to take a bat to Cody’s head but couldn’t risk it. Worse than getting thrown out of the mobile home park would be cops asking questions. He maintained a neutral expression, drawing on the memory of his lovemaking with the douche bag’s girlfriend just hours earlier. Would that be considered retroactive revenge? he wondered. The glint of defiance in his stare must have unsettled the thug—Cody pulled up his T-shirt to reveal a pistol stuck in his waistband.

  “Cody…,” said Luanne.

  “What?” he said, eyes locked on Daniel.

  “Customers.”

  A man and a woman, both emaciated, in unwashed parkas and worn-out sneakers shuffled toward the porch. Their teeth had rotted from neglect, hers more than his. Daniel couldn’t fathom their age … they looked to be in their twenties and their fifties at the same time. Both desperately needed a bath.

  Cody covered the pistol. He pulled a tiny ziplock bag filled with white crystals out of a planter beside the loveseat and waved it before the newcomers. The sun glinting off the tiny rocks mesmerized the couple.

  “Money?” Cody asked.

  The man handed him a crumpled ball of bills. Cody pulled them apart. “You’re short,” he said. The two became agitated and began hopping side to side, like they needed to use the bathroom. Cody and Eljay shot each other shit-eating grins, like kids torturing ants with a magnifying glass.

  “Tell you what,” Cody said. “You take missy here over to Kooter’s, and she can ‘work off’ the difference in the back. You catch my drift?”

  Both meth drones nodded excitedly. Cody tossed them the bag, which slipped through their fingers and landed on the grass. They scrambled for it like hungry dogs and then slunk off.

  Cody turned his attention back to Daniel. “You ever draw another picture of Luanne, I will blow your fuckin’ head off.”

  Luanne looked up at the sky swallowing a chuckle, innocent as the day she was born.

  2

  Daniel should have been scared. But after living with Clyde for much of his life, he just couldn’t get worked up by Cody. Nevertheless, he hid the pad with Luanne’s nude under the bed and adjusted the comforter so that it covered the space. No reason to risk leaving something like that lying around.

  Daniel washed up in the bathroom, studying his face in the mirror for signs of facial hair. It was well known back at school that once a guy got laid, his facial hair would start to grow in. He was aware how stupid most of his friends were when it came to biology and relationships, and had to smile at his own gullibility and wishful thinking. Still, a beard or ’stache at the moment would go a long way to hiding his identity on the road. And if he did end up in South America, facial hair was almost a cultural necessity.

  Daniel didn’t recognize his eyes anymore. Even though they were the same shape and color, he’d become someone else. His short-cropped hair gave his forehead more altitude. Was that it? He gazed at his own reflection in the mirror, trying to pinpoint exactly what was different. Cody noticed something too when Daniel stood his ground. It scared the cracker enough to make him brandish his weapon. I’ve got artillery to deal with you mo’ fo’, it said. Eyes are the windows to the soul, some long-dead writer claimed. Daniel’s soul, if he had one, was sullied. Is that what looked back … ha
ving lived thirty years in just thirteen? Was there a stain upon his soul for killing his stepfather—for making love to someone else’s girl? Murder and sex in the space of three days had put some depth into Daniel’s stare. His fourteenth birthday was just a couple months away, but he had already stopped seeing himself as a thirteen-year-old. His eyes had lost their innocence. That’s what Daniel imagined Cody saw … he didn’t expect to find an old soul in a boy’s eyes.

  Cody’s Cadillac tried to gain traction on the wet grass with its bald tires. The cracker burned a gallon of gas just trying to get the car to the hard dirt road in front of the trailer. He’d probably do a lot better if his fat cousin got out of the car. What was really stupid was that his hangout was by the general store near the trailer park entrance, and it was only a ten-minute walk. Luanne trotted into the kitchen carrying the remains of Daniel’s abused sketch pad. She was obliviously cheery—an adrenaline junkie that just swallowed a tasty snack.

  “You want to sketch me again?” she asked.

  “Didn’t you hear Methy McTats?” Daniel said.

  “Cody’s just cranky ’cause some kids in the next town started cookin’. He don’t handle competition so good.”

  “Just a businessman…” Daniel played along. “He projects that Donald Trump charisma.”

  “Funny,” she said sarcastically, handing the pad to him. “That’s what I get for fuckin’ a little boy.”

  Daniel looked around in a panic.

  “Mama’s not here,” she reassured him. “Spent the night at her beau’s.”

  “Who fixed the heat?”

  “Turns out, the thermostat just needed to be reset.” A devilish grin took over, complete with twinkle.

  “Did you … just to…,” Daniel said. His ego just inflated.

  Her smile evaporated, replaced by a not-too-pleased-look. “Dang it … I was neked in front of you and all you did was draw me!” she said. “I knew you wasn’t queer! I saw you hidin’ your thing behind the counter. You din’ even try anythin’ while we watched TV … like somethin’s wrong with me!”