Clean Lines (Cedar Tree #4) (9 page)

Fox and I share the bedroom, since the guesthouse only has one. With me working overnights, we don't have to get in each other's way. I don't mind sleeping on the couch either, if it comes to that, because Emma and Gus have a thing for huge sectionals. There is one in the living room here too.

Stripping out of my scrubs, I grab a clean towel, toss it on the vanity and turn on the hot water in the shower. The infamous shower. Shower heads coming out of the walls in all directions make for a full-body massage and what was supposed to be a quick rinse, turns into a much longer session, with me moaning and groaning at the effect the jets of water have on my tired and aching muscles. When my stomach starts rumbling from hunger, I reluctantly get out, dry off and dress in some comfy yoga pants and a tee. Wet hair still up in a towel, I walk out of the bedroom, only to be startled by Joe standing in the middle of the living room.

"Oh, wow, you scared me."

"Yeah. I could tell you didn't know anyone else was here," he says with a smirk on his face and a pointed look toward the bathroom.

"What do you mean? I was just..." Suddenly it hits me. "How long have you been standing here?"

"Long enough."

"I... I was just... I wasn't... Ahhh! I was just enjoying a relaxing shower!" With every stammer, he starts chuckling harder until finally I pull the wet towel off my head and toss it at him when he starts laughing out loud.
Bastard
.

"Easy there, Doc. Assaulting an officer of the law with a wet towel is not helping your case."

"Oh shut up, you ape."

"Mom? Sheriff Morris?" Fox walks in and throws me a worried look that gets me laughing.

"Nothing, Bub. We're just goofing around." I risk a quick glance in Joe's direction, who still wears a smug grin but has lost some of the sultry fire in his eyes.

"That for me?" I point to the plate Fox carries in his hand.

"Oh. Yeah, Emma loaded some food up for you. Man, she cooks a ton."

"That she does," Joe says, "and she does it well too, but always for an orphanage. Hope you don't mind gaining a few pounds, ‘cause I can guarantee you will."

"No thanks," I jump in, "my body carries plenty already. I'll try and avoid her kitchen."

"I wouldn't mind bulking up a bit. Dad said I'm too skinny."

I look at Fox and see a hint of sadness in his face. Was this something James did to Fox too? Put him down? And on physical appearance? Fuck, that hurts my heart. To think I voluntarily let him walk into that.

I can sense Joe looking at me from the corner of his eye, before he turns to Fox. "You know, there's a really good gym not too far from your school I sometimes work out at. Not like those big chain gyms where all you see is rows of machines. This is much smaller, with a few guys that help out with training programs and keeping you on track. Even some punching bags and a ring, if you're interested in trying some mixed martial arts, you know? A bit of everything."

Fox's eyes had shown increasing interest as Joe was talking, but at the last minute his face shut down.

"Not for me,” he muttered avoiding Joe’s gaze. Besides, you have to be eighteen to sign up for those places."

I'm just picking at the plate of breakfast, sitting back to see how this is going to play out, because for years I've wanted Fox to do something physical, something athletic, but whenever I've suggested anything, it's been shot down. Looks like maybe Joe's suggestion was going to go the same route.

Joe throws me a little wink. "You've got a point, but I know the owner of this place, and he's ok with underage guys as long as they come with supervision." Before Fox has a chance to interrupt, Joe adds, "And it just so happens I go three times a week, usually around four or so in the afternoon, before it gets too busy. It's nice and quiet but frankly, I tend to have trouble finding a spotter. So you'd probably be doing me a favor if you tagged along once or twice. When you're feeling better of course. Although, you could get started on your legs I guess. But... I totally get it. If it's not your thing, it's not your thing." And with that he turns his back to Fox and faces me, a little smile playing at the corner of his mouth.

"Were you going to eat all that?" He points at my plate.

"Nope. I’ve picked at it enough. Have at it." I smile. Smart man. Over his shoulder, I can see the wheels in Fox's head turning, while Joe leisurely finishes off Emma's breakfast.

"You know..." Fox starts, "I could probably help you out a couple of times a week. After school or something? If you really need a hand."

I have to turn around to hide the smile on my face.

"Yeah. That'd be great. How about we see about next week? Just so you can have a look around, get comfortable with the place. We'll sort the details later." Joe is very low key in his approach and I marvel at how a man who, by all accounts, has never been a parent, can be so smart at handling the most difficult of ages with such ease. When he looks up at me I mouth a 'Thank you,' and am rewarded with another wink.

"Now on to a much less pleasant subject before your mom hits the sack. I don't know if she told you how Michael got hurt? I never got into details when you were in recovery."

"She said he was stabbed by a couple of guys in the park."

"Beaten severely and then stabbed in the stomach, yes. And he is very lucky. According to your mom, he came through surgery ok and as long as he can fight off any infection, he should be ok. His face will heal too. But Fox, these guys? I saw them. I saw them come out of the washroom and run off, and from what I could tell, at least one of them was at Crow Canyon with you guys."

All color seems to drain from Fox's face and I hurry to sit next to him on the couch and put my arm around him.

"What... Who?" he stammers.

"Well, that’s where I need your help. I didn't get a great look at all of them down at the dig, but you would have. So if I describe the kids who were in the park with Michael, can you tell me if you've seen them before? Either at Crow Canyon or even somewhere else?"

"Not sure I want to... " Fox is suddenly quiet in his response and Joe sits down on his other side, but I jump in first.

"Look, Bub. I get it. I get you don't like to squeal. Hell, you probably don't want to talk after what happened to Michael, but the reality is, those guys know you were picked up, just like Michael. If they were afraid Michael was going to talk, you would be just as much of a threat already too. Baby, I'm not trying to scare you on purpose, but I also don't want you to stick your head in the sand and tell yourself that as long as you stay quiet you'll be ok. Keeping this kind of stuff to yourself is never a good idea. Let Sheriff Morris do his job, Bub. Please?"

"And you can call me Joe, but your mom is right. I can't do much without your help."

"Is that why we had to come here?" Fox wants to know looking at me. "You think they'll come after me? That's just great." He sinks back in the couch and runs his hand through his dark brown hair, in need of a cut. He looks scared with a wide-eyed glance in my direction, as if hoping to find the answers with me.  But his problems aren’t a scraped knee or a bad dream this time. I’m as lost as he is and am relieved when Joe jumps in.

"Look," Joe points out, "I don't know anything for sure at this point. Certainly not until I've had a chance to talk to Michael, which will hopefully be sometime today, but it would be smart to be a bit more cautious."

"I guess, although I'm not sure what else I can tell you about the guy I haven't already told you."

A bit of defiance returned to his demeanor and I was almost glad to see it instead of the worried and dejected look on his face. Joe just chuckles.

"I'll ask and you just answer what you know. You'll be surprised how far we get."

My questions start simple with clothes, a print on a T-shirt he might remember, brand of shoes; those kinds of things, before moving to actual physical descriptions. By that time, Fox is so concentrated on details, he's able to provide a much clearer description of the guy than he did a few days ago in the hospital.

"Wow. I can't believe I knew all that. Cool."

"It's an easy trick. When you ask someone for a description of anything; a person, a book, a movie, their brain often doesn't know how to sort through all the information it has stored, but when you break it up into smaller sections and then collect all the bits at the end, you get a more complete picture. What we have now is a young man wearing Etnie skate shoes, dark blue with grey lettering, worn jeans with a chain hanging from his belt loop to his pocket, a dark old Creed shirt, has short-cropped dark blond to brown hair, light colored eyes, and is somewhere between eighteen and twenty. Oh, and likely around five foot ten or eleven, because you said you could look him straight in the eye. I'm guessing that's your height?" I ask him.

Fox nods with the hint of a smile on his face.

"So is it? The same guy, I mean."

Damn. He isn't gonna let me get away like I'd hoped, and from the eager look on Naomi's face, neither is she.

"Sounds like one of them. Down to the T-shirt actually," I grudgingly admit. "Now the other guy I saw also had dark hair, but it was a bit longer, and he looked Hispanic. Also was a little lankier. He had a goatee, looked to be early twenties to me. Was wearing a football jersey and I could barely tell what kind of pants he had on, they were hanging so low; I think they may have been dark jeans. Know anyone who wears his jeans around his knees?"

Fox chuckles, and I have to say I like hearing that; the kid is in a potential shit load of trouble and I think he knows it. And we haven't even started on the events in Phoenix yet.

"No," he says, "I'd remember."

"Okay, good. Now I have one more thing," I look at Naomi to see if she is falling asleep on me, but she still seems to be hanging in, curled up in a corner of the couch but quiet and attentive, keeping a close eye on her son. "Gus and I are trying to help you and your mom find out a little bit more about where your dad might have gone and there are a few things I'd like to know."

There is hesitancy in the look Fox throws me, but I push on.

"See, there was this case your dad was working on. A rather high-profile case that hit the newspapers at some point. It's the last one he worked on before he disappeared and we're trying to figure out if it’s somehow connected. One of the witnesses died during the trial and it caused quite an uproar. Did your dad ever mention anything at home?"

I can pinpoint the moment when Fox shuts down. His eyes glance over to his mom quickly before coming back to me and at the mention of the death of the witness, I see fear before he averts them.

"Can't remember. Never paid much attention to his work," he says pushing up from the couch. "I'm gonna lie down now though, I'm beat."

Won't talk. He knows something, has heard or seen something but fear is holding him back. Must be something substantial, but I've pushed the kid enough for one day.

"That's ok, buddy. You did good and I'm glad for your help."

"Want me to come check on you in a bit?" Naomi asks.

"Nah, I'm good." And with that he disappears into the bedroom, shutting the door behind him.

N
aomi lays her head back on the couch and groans.

"How did we get into this, Joe? I mean a year ago I thought everything was starting to balance out, work and Fox, living here. Heck, even the temporary rebellion and moving to live with his dad seemed like a small glitch, something we'd be able to iron out. But now I find out James was belittling Fox too...I can't let that happen. Not only that, but fuck, look at the outcome; I should never have let him go. God this is all kinds of fucked up and I feel totally useless."

I don't say anything, just lift her feet in my lap and start working my thumbs into her insteps. The moans coming from her mouth don't do anything for the growing pole in my uniform pants and I carefully shift her feet in my lap.

"You're a great mother, Doc. You're letting him grow up. A lot of parents don't give their children the chance. Sure, the knocks can be hard and he's run into some shit that neither of you are responsible for, but you’re here ready to catch him, to support him. Not pressuring, or suffocating him, but allowing him to make the right decisions on his own. That takes a lot of guts on your part, and will go a long way to making him into the decent man I'm convinced he will be. Give yourself some credit. We’ll sort this stuff out; I promise. And keep him safe in the meantime."

I'm so focused on her cute toes, I almost miss the muffled sniff. When I turn to look at her, I see two big deep brown eyes full of tears looking back at me.
Well shit.

"Thank you..." Her chin wobbles and the first tear rolls down her cheek. Ah damn. I cup her cheek and brush it away.

"I seem to be crying around you a lot," she smiles through her tears, making me chuckle, and just like that my dick is trying to show me who's boss again and I'm fighting the urge to take her in my arms. Not the right time to go there; not without clearing the air first. And what better time than right now?