Read Online 3 A Brewski for the Old Man by Phyllis Smallman - Free Book Online

I punched in Styles’ number. He was at the police station so I told him what was happening and that’s where I headed.
    “He’ll never let me go.” Lacey’s voice spoke of defeat and resignation.
    I stopped for a red light. “You’re not alone in this. Remember that.” The hulking piece of steel hit our bumper, rocking the truck but not pushing us forward. “Oh,” Lacey said, startled, “sorry.”
    “Why?” I looked over at her. Tears were running down her cheeks. “Why are you sorry, you’re not the idiot that’s causing all this, you haven’t hurt anyone.”
    “Have you really got a gun?” She pointed at the pouch.
    “Yeah, but we don’t need it.”
    “Good,” she said. “Good.” She gave a determined nod of her head and stared straight ahead. “I’m glad you’ve got a gun in your pouch.”
    I thought maybe she was hoping I’d shoot Ray John and get it over with. The truth was much worse.

C H A P T E R 1 1
    Styles was waiting in the parking lot as I pulled in. He came out to stand beside the driver’s door, not looking at me but behind us at the SUV shadowing us. Styles started towards it but Ray John pulled out around us and took off. I rolled down the window. “Thanks,” I breathed. Styles put both hands on the lowered window. He looked from Lacey to me before he asked, “What happened?”
    I raised my shaking hand to the hair fallen from its elastic and brushed it back behind my ear. He reached out for my left hand on the steering wheel and squeezed it. “Take it easy.”
    I nodded and combed my hair back from my face with my fingers and redid the elastic. “This is Lacey Cagel.” He leaned around me. “Hi, Lacey.”
    Lacey ignored us. She was gripping the door handle, ready to bolt.
    “Detective Styles is a friend of mine, a good guy.”
    “I don’t want the police,” she whispered.
    “You don’t have to do anything but talk to him. We just want you to be safe.”
    She swung to face me. “But I can go back to your place, right? I don’t have to go back there.”
    I’d already assured her of this at least three times in the eight blocks between the high school and here but I did it again.
    “Look, let’s just go across to Fat Tony’s and get a soda,” Styles put in. “We’ll just talk. No one is going to make you do anything you don’t want to do.”
    And talk he did, softly and sweetly and with a kindness that would have melted most reluctant hearts — but not Lacey’s. She just sat with the soda between her hands, looking down at it and shaking her head no, and then she excused herself and went to the ladies.
    Styles watched her go and then looked into my eyes. “We had a report from the bridge keeper about a black muscle SUV and a red pickup earlier today. Want to tell me about it?”
    “It was nothing.”
    “Without a complaint I can’t have him brought in.” I shook my head.
    Styles sighed. “My wife and I have just separated.” It was the first personal thing Styles ever told me about himself; he wasn’t the kind of guy who shared his life or his emotions. In fact I wasn’t sure he had either. Locked down, solid and in control left no room for warm fuzzy confidences. “I’ve got a nine-year-old daughter,” he said. “How do I stop this from happening to her?”
    I gave it some thought. “Well maybe I’m not the best person to offer advice but I think you should tell your wife what happened to me. And tell your daughter, talk to her and let her know there are evil people out there who will try and take advantage of her. Only people who are ignorant can be preyed upon. Tell her she can come to you with anything, you won’t get mad and you won’t judge her.” I thought about it. “Kids need to trust people before they can talk to them.” “Why didn’t you tell your dad?”
    That gave me a laugh. “He’s a different sort of parent. Grandma said he went to ’Nam crazy and came back worse and he hasn’t improved with age. I never knew what