Most men chopped wood because they had to, not because they wanted to. Seemed to Colt, Denny Lowe had a lot of rage he’d been workin’ out for some time.
“We need this place combed, someone needs to talk to the neighbors,” Sully said to Chris. “You need reinforcements, let me know, we’ll call ‘em in. The Feds are heading back here and I’ve no doubt they’ll get men on it too.”
“Gotcha,” Chris said on a nod and took off.
“Strainin’ our resources, you on ‘consultative capacity’, Marty havin’ half a brain and needin’ to pull the boys from the task force in every few hours. No cops on the street, we’re gonna miss our quota this month of speedin’ tickets,” Sully joked.
Colt smiled at him. “This guy’s gonna hit the history books, Sully, you’ll have your own page on online encyclopedias.”
Sully smiled back. “Better get Lorraine to take a decent picture of me.”
Colt slapped him on the shoulder and gave it a squeeze. Then they walked out of the bedroom and made their way down the hall, avoiding the path of blood, and Sully stopped at the top of the stairs.
“How’s Feb doin’?” he asked when Colt turned to him.
“She’s holdin’ it together.”
“She’s surprisin’ me, and everyone, thought she’d flip and take off.” He paused. “It’s a good surprise.”
“Yeah.”
“She gonna be able to see it through?”
“She’s got help.”
Sully looked closely at him. “Yeah. She does.” He took in a breath and said, “Listen, man, rumor is all over about this shit and you and Feb and now I heard from Lorraine that Melanie –”
“She called this morning.”
Sully swayed back in surprise. “Fuck, really?”
Colt nodded.
“Colt… man, you should know the rumor –”
“Rumor’s true. She called, wanted to have dinner, talk about things.”
“You havin’ dinner?” Sully asked quietly.
“Nope.”
Sully’s eyebrows went skyward. “That’s it? ‘Nope’?”
“That’s it.”
“Jesus.”
“She shoulda called three years ago, Sully,” Colt told him.
Sully gave him a look then grinned and said, “Feb.”
Colt saw no reason to deny it and confirmed, “Feb.”
Sully rocked back on his heels, still grinning but now grinning like a crazy fuck, he was so happy. “What chance you think you got?”
“Don’t know. You’ll have to wait and find out, just like me.”
Colt wasted no more time, he was late as it was. He gave Sully a “Later,” turned and jogged down the stairs.
Sully called after him, ribbing in his voice, “Spendin’ the evening at your spot at J&J’s?”
“Spendin’ it at my house with Reggie’s, beer, a pool cue and Feb,” Colt called back not looking up as he spoke, not giving a shit who heard. He hit the bottom, strode through the elegant foyer and right out the door.
*
Colt carried the six-pack to the front door, Feb carried Reggie’s pizza box.
The minute they hit the room, they were assaulted by paint fumes.
“Oh shit,” Feb muttered and Colt smiled.
He closed and locked the door behind them and when he turned she was already headed toward the kitchen. He got there as she dropped the box on the counter. He put the beer in the fridge, grabbed her hand in his and tugged her out of the kitchen.
She tugged back while she said, “Colt.”
Wilson hit the living room and let out a loud meow.
“Quiet pookie,” Feb said to her cat.
“Pookie?” Colt asked over his shoulder, dragging her into the hall.
She gave him a look and asked, “You wanna tell me why –”
She stopped talking when he halted at the door of the second bedroom and pulled her beside him. Then he reached in and turned on the light.
In the middle of the room was a mattress and box springs on a basic steel bed frame. The mattress and box springs had plastic on them. There was nothing else in the room and the walls had been given a basecoat.
“Guess you’re getting a guest room,” Feb noted.
Colt stared. The place had been chock full of stuff, most of it he didn’t even remember what it was. To have it cleared, a basecoat and new furniture, all in one day, was a miracle.
“Your mother doesn’t fuck around,” Colt remarked.
“I hope you didn’t have anything in there that was precious.”
Colt looked at her and said, “The only things precious in life breathe.”
Colt watched as she stopped breathing and stared at him direct in the eye in that way she’d been doing lately. Her gaze filled with surprise and something more, something welcoming, something he hoped to hell was the invitation it seemed to be.
He still had her hand in his and he reached back into the room with his other one, turned out the light then guided her back to the kitchen where he let her go.
She went to the pizza box, he went to the beer.
“You got a choice, Feb, you can eat some Reggie’s and then I can give you some shit news or I can give you some shit news and then you can eat some Reggie’s.”
He turned from the fridge with two bottles in one hand and saw her drop the lid of the box back on the pizza, her neck twisted, eyes on him.
“Shit news, then Reggie’s,” she answered, her voice quiet but shaky. She was preparing.
He used the heel of his hand and the lip of the counter to snap off the caps on the beers and, when he turned to hand her hers, she was still staring at the counter.
“I wondered what all those marks were.” She looked at Colt. “You need a bottle opener.”
“Got one. It’s over there,” he pointed to a drawer across the kitchen. “Fridge is over here,” he jerked a thumb to the fridge and he felt his words were all that needed to be said.
She walked to him, took her beer from his hand then walked to the drawer, rifled through it, pulled out a bottle opener and walked back to him. Reaching around him and up, she put the bottle opener on the top of the fridge and stepped away.
“Now it’s up there,” she said.