The Third Mrs. Mitchell. Lynnette Kent
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Mary Rose put a hand on the girl’s shoulder. “What did you fight with your dad about, Kelsey?”
“He had this dumb idea that we should all go to the beach together after school lets out. Have you ever heard anything so stupid? Like I want to be cooped up with her in the condo for a week.”
“The condo?”
Kelsey peeked out of the pillow. “Sure. Good idea, huh?”
“Lousy idea. I’d have been furious, too. That’s a family place. Your mother did all the painting and decorating.”
“Exactly. So I told him what he could do with his beach trip and got the hell out of there. And I’ll tell you something else.” She sat up, her face red, her mouth firm, her chin in the air. “I am never going anywhere with him again. Whether she comes along or not. If he can’t come live with us and make us a family like we’re supposed to be, then I don’t care if I never see him for the rest of my life.”
At least she’d admitted how she felt. “He’s made a lot of mistakes, Kelsey. But he’s still your dad.”
“Biologically. A real dad stays with his kids. That makes him a total loser. If he doesn’t want me and Trace, we don’t want him.”
Downstairs, the doorbell rang. Looking out the window, Mary Rose saw an SUV parked at the curb. “Who drives a dark blue Yukon?”
Kelsey sat up straight. “That’s Dad. I won’t talk to him. I won’t!”
“Shh. You don’t have to. Your mother will take care of it.”
“Oh, right. She couldn’t keep him here, she can’t get him back, and she can’t get him to give her any money. What makes you think she can handle anything at all?” The contempt in the young voice bit deep. “Next thing I know, he’ll be kicking my door down.” Kelsey stared at the door with a mixture of fear and despair. And, Mary Rose felt sure, even a bit of hope.
“No, he won’t kick your door down. I’ll give your mom some backup. You stay put.”
By the time she got to the top of the staircase, L.T.’s loud voice filled the house. “I’ll see my kids any damn time I please. Like right now.” He stomped out of the living room with Kate following, but stopped when he saw Mary Rose blocking his way up the stairs. He made a visible effort to recover his temper. “Hey, there, Mary Rose. I didn’t know you were here. That your Porsche outside? Nice car.”
A few times in the past, she’d thought he might be trying to flirt with her, but had refused to believe her sister’s husband would be so dishonorable. Now she believed it. “Hello, L.T. Are you on your way out? Don’t let me keep you.”
L.T.’s hulking frame was as intimidating as his loud voice. At Mary Rose’s words, his face, an older version of his son’s, hardened. “I’m going to see Trace and Kelsey, first.”
“Neither of them wants to talk to you, L.T. Why don’t you let things cool off for a couple of days, then give them a call?”
He looked at Kate, then at Mary Rose again. “You can’t keep me away from my kids. They’re not even hers, for God’s sake.”
Kate gasped. Mary Rose tightened her hands into fists. “You’ve got one minute to get out of here, L.T. Then we’re calling the police.”
“This is my house. I make the payments. You can’t kick me out.”
“Watch me.” Mary Rose turned and started back up the steps, to the phone in the upstairs hallway. L.T. stood his ground on the first floor as she picked up the phone and punched 911.
“I’d like to report an intruder,” she said to the operator. “The address is—”
With a snarled curse, L.T. whipped around and headed toward the front door. He slammed it hard behind him; the pictures on either side of the door frame jumped off their hooks and crashed to the floor.
On shaking knees, Mary Rose walked to the stairs and sat down on the top step. “Well, that was interesting.” She took in a deep, shuddering breath. “What else could possibly go wrong today?”
THE PHONE RANG at eleven-fifteen that night. Mary Rose was sitting up with Kate, watching TV reruns and waiting for the kids to arrive home at eleven-thirty, as expected.
But as Kate listened to the voice on the phone, as her eyes widened and her face paled, Mary Rose knew that the quiet night was about to take a turn for the worse.
“What? What’s wrong?” She got to her feet as Kate fumbled to replace the phone onto its cradle.
For an endless moment, Kate sat motionless, staring straight ahead without saying anything at all. Then she looked at Mary Rose, her eyes blank with shock.
“Kelsey and Trace are at the police station,” she said finally. “They’ve been arrested.”
CHAPTER FOUR
IN ALL HER LIFE, Mary Rose had never been inside the New Skye police station. The newness of the building surprised her, until Kate explained that this office had replaced the sixty-year-old municipal center only five years ago. Television dramas had conditioned her to expect small, dark—even dirty—rooms. But this large, open area was flooded with fluorescent light, painted a clean light gray, and could have been any ordinary business reception area.
Something else Mary Rose hadn’t expected was the crowd of people occupying that bright space. Everywhere she looked, teenagers slumped on the chairs and against the walls. At least one adult flanked each child, and everyone seemed to be avoiding meeting everyone else’s eyes. At a counter running the length of the room, police officers on the inside talked to parents on the outside, with a fairly high level of tension evident in all parties. No one was happy with this situation…whatever it was. Kelsey and Trace were nowhere in sight.
Kate gazed helplessly at the chaos, twisting her hands together. “What are we supposed to do?”
“What did the officer who called say?”
“To check in with the sergeant.”
“Which one is that?”
“The one with the longest line,” a short, tanned man standing near them volunteered. He had a firm grasp on the arm of a sleepy-looking girl about Kelsey’s age. “Hey, Kate. I’m gonna give Les Hamilton hell when I get hold of him. What was he thinking, going off and leaving his kid at home to party? Did you know there wouldn’t be any adults there tonight?”
Kate shook her head. Mary Rose thought back to the conversation as Kelsey and Trace left the house early that evening. Had Kate asked if there would be parents at home? Or had she just assumed? Surely she would be smarter than that…unless she didn’t want to know, didn’t want to face the conflict involved in dealing with all the facts.
She took hold of Kate’s arm. “Let’s go stand in the longest line.”
After thirty minutes of watching parents argue with police and scold adolescents, their turn came to speak with the sergeant. Kate took a deep breath. “I—I’m looking for Kelsey and Trace LaRue.”
The sergeant flipped through papers. “Right. Drunk driving—”
“Driving!”
“Vandalism, consuming alcohol while underage and possession of a counterfeit license.” He glared at Kate. “You got a couple of real delinquents on your hands.”
She gripped her hands together on top of the counter. “What kind of vandalism?”
“Mailboxes. Pulled over half a dozen boxes in the Burning Tree subdivision. Lucky one of the neighbors was awake and called the cops.”
“What are you going to do to them?”
“That’s up to the judge.”