That had been the beginning of their friendship, which Buck had always wanted to turn into something more. But Bobbie had been skittish. Which had been okay with Buck. He’d figured he had plenty of time to win her over.
Yeah.That hadn’t worked out.
Buck dragged his mind away from the past, and focused on the here and now.
The Follster house, as he approached, looked to be in even worse shape than it had been fifteen years ago, and that wasn’t saying much. The place had always had the look of a hoarder’s dump. Now, it was afalling downhoarder’s dump.
Buck hadn’t understood Bobbie’s family dynamics for the first few months of getting to know her, but as their friendship grew, he’d found out that her alcoholic parents had divorced, then both walked out, leaving fifteen-year-old Bobbie’s care to that of her douchebag brothers who were ten and eight years older than her.
Not an ideal situation, but other than reporting the conditions of her home and having her removed from the house by social services—which Bobbie had begged him not to do—there was pretty much nothing in Buck’s arsenal that would have helped.
He’d thought, at the time, to enlist his parents’ aid, but in 2007, there’d been a nation-wide recession, accompanied by a severe downturn in the housing market. Which had led to his father’s mill having to lay off workers. The whole family had to tighten their belts significantly until things blew over.
Buck knew that if he’d asked, his folks would have found a way to take Bobbie in, but the lighthearted parents he’d looked up to all his life had grown increasingly glum and worried for their business, so Buck had decided not to burden them with any new crises. He’d figured there’d be time to rescue Bobbie from her brothers when his parents’ financial stress had eased, but by that point, Buck was gone. Off to the Coast Guard, with a promise to Chief Ildavorg that during leave time, he wouldn’t contact Bobbie in any way.
The entire situation had sucked.
Buck looked around the trashed yard and didn’t see a vehicle that looked like it could be Bobbie’s. There were no catering vans, no small, easy to maintain cars. Just a couple of very beat up old trucks with rubbish piled up in the back that didn’t bespeak of Bobbie in any way.
Well, she was either here or she wasn’t, and sitting in his car wasn’t doing him any good.
With a deep, fortifying breath, he opened his van and got out.
Before he’d even taken two steps toward the house, the front door creaked opened.
“Who the hell are you and what do you want?”
Drew.
Buck wouldn’t have been surprised if the asshole cradled a shotgun in the crook of his arm. Luckily, that wasn’t the case.
“Drew, it’s Buck. Buck Sothard.”
The man’s eyes widened from the slits they’d been before, and his demeanor changed from yapping dog to bristling bear. “What the fuck? You’ve got a lot of gall coming here, Sothard.Get your ass back in your car and leave, or I’ll call the cops. You’re trespassing.”
Buck wasn’t so easily discouraged, especially since he knew everyone on the police force, and they’d see Drew’s assertion for the bullshit it was.
“I just want to talk to Bobbie,” he told the man as calmly as he could. “I only need five minutes of her time.”
Yeah.See if Drew had an argument with that.
“She’s not here,” Drew snarled. “Now fucking leave.”
Buck shrugged, not quite believing the dick. He raised his voice and called out. “Bobbie? Bobbie, are you in there?”
Nothing.
So, either she was ignoring him, or Drew was telling the truth. Therewasa way, he hoped, to find out without breaking the law and forcing his way inside. He’d make a call from the safety of his own vehicle.
Buck tipped his imaginary cap to Drew. “Okay. Fine. She’s not here. But tell her I came by asking for her, okay?”
Drew spit in his direction. “Get lost, asshole.”
“Sure thing.” Buck actually gave him a feral smile, which he hoped showed Drew he wasn’t in the least bit cowed…which he wasn’t.
At forty-three, Drew looked rough; like he might as well have been eighty. His skin was sallow and pasty, his hair thinning, and the belly he sported, hanging sloppily down over his belt, led Buck to believe that the man’s diet wasstillcomprised mostly of beer, and that he ate more fast food than home-cooked meals.
Interesting.
