Chapter 2

Elkridge Lake Township Police Chief Timothy O’Neil rubbed his left knee. Every fucking morning the dull ache would return. He questioned if that State Championship twenty some years ago was worth the pain now. The morning sun poured through the bedroom window. He told Dina to cover the fucking thing. He picked his phone off the charger, thumbed open the screen. No messages from Johan, Squid or Brent. Farmer would probably call any minute. Impatient fucker. Chief O’Neil left Brent to watch Van Wiern’s in case he came home. If Brent saw anything he would have called, but might as well check on him anyway. O’Neil called him.

Brent’s voice was gruff, “Yea?”

“Morning Princess. I wake you?” He chuckled.

“Go fuck yourself.” the tort reply.

“Good. Nothing then?” he could hear Brent moving around.

“Handyman left before nine. No one in or out since. Paper was delivered about ten minutes ago.”

“Alright, sit there, I’ll send someone to relieve you.” He ended the call. The handyman there at eight o’clock at night, Linda in that skimpy robe. Something was going on there. But that would have to wait. Farmer said Johan had lunch with Squid. Nobody had seen Squid since, so either Squid had the money and Johan was dead, or the two ran off together. Johan did seem to like the kid, but like that?

His phone rang. The screen said Farmer, no profile pic. “Right on fucking time.”

He accepted the call. “O’Neil.”

Farmer’s voice was hoarse, like gravel, “Any news on our friend?”

O’Neil took a deep breathe, Farmer hated the word no. “Not yet. I still have some rocks to kick over.”

“Get kicking.” The line went dead.

O’Neil closed his screen, Dina, his wife snored softly. His knee ached.

Chief O’Neil gingerly sipped his hot coffee waiting for the last of the kids to get on the school bus. He chuckled to himself as a straggler ran to the bus stop, over stuffed Spider-man backpack slapping around on his back. The poor kid nearly fell over backwards as he stepped onto the bus. The lights went out and traffic started moving. O’Neil gave Jerry the bus driver a wave as he passed. He turned the police Explorer onto Harding Road/County 17 and continued on until he reached the Smart Shop grocery store. The parking lot was mostly empty. He cruised past the parking spots and made his way along the side of the concrete building. He rounded the corner towards the delivery dock. A group of high school kids were gathered around a young woman with blue hair. Brooke Kelly.

As soon as the kids saw his Elkridge Police SUV, they took off into the woods behind the store. Chief O’Neil shook his head, flipped on the emergency lights, and rolled to a stop a few feet from the blue haired woman. He set his coffee in the cup holder and hopped out of the police vehicle.

“Brooke Kelly. Please, tell me you are NOT slinging dope to fucking kids.” He rested his hands on his utility belt. Brooke was no threat, barely half his size, and was never a violent offender. Just like her brother, Squid, she had a rough upbringing, mixed up in drugs and the wrong people.

“Fuck, O’Neil. I thought it was the real cops.” Her sneer exaggerated by her dark purple lipstick. The color clashed with the dark green Smart Shop polo shirt she wore.

“Gary let’s you work here, looking like this-” He gestured to her chin length blue hair, thick black eye shadow, purple lipstick, stud piercings in her ears, nose, and lower lip. She looked every bit the stereo type goth-punk girl.

She scoffed, “Fuck Gary.”

“Have you?”

“Fuck you O’Neil” She crossed her arms over her chest and stuck her lower lip out in an exaggerated pout.

“Such a dirty mouth on you.” he chuckled.

“I know you like it. Besides Gary couldn’t find his dick if I drew him a map.” She uncrossed her arms, pulled a vape pen out of her faded black pants pocket. “What do you want O’Neil?”

“I’m looking for Squid.”

Brooke froze. She pointed her vape at O’Neil. “You know I fucking hate that nickname. His name is Evan.”

O’Neil swatted the vape from her hand, it skittered across the rough pavement. He shoved Brooke against the building, leaned in close. She smelled like cardboard, pot and sweat. Her breathe short, her heavily shadowed eyes were wide. She cocked her head away from his face. He slid his hand down her pants. Her crotch was smooth. Shaved. His fingers slid over her mound. She sucked air through her teeth.

“I’m looking for.” He paused, looked her in the eyes, “Evan.” He ran his fingers over the lips of her pussy. She whimpered.

“I haven’t seen him.” She closed her eyes.

He spread her pussy lips, her wetness lubing his fingers. “Come on, Brooke. Where is Evan?”

“He got into it bad with Manny, Mama kicked him out.” She let out a low moan when he probed her opening with two fingers.

“Manny? Your Dad?” He slid his fingers in to the first knuckle.

“Our asshole stepdad.” She grunted.

“So, where is he staying?” Fingers to the second knuckle.

“God.” she whispered. “He’s been hanging out with some slut, she tends bar at Skeeter’s most nights. Mandy or something.” She twitched.

“Mandy got a last name, or an address?” He used his palm to rub her clit, air escaped her lips.

“I dunno. I swear.” She ground into his hand.

O’Neil’s phone rang.

“Mother. Fucker.” He pulled his hand out of Brooke’s pants, as he reached for his phone.

“What the fuck, O’Neil?” Brooke stammered.

Farmer was calling again. The fucking prick.

“You gonna leave me like this?” She spread her arms wide.

“I’m on duty.” He accepted the call as he walked away from Brooke.

“Fuck you, O’Neil. You owe me a vape. And a fuck. Asshole.” She shouted to his back.

“O’Neil.” Chief O’Neil spoke into his phone.

“Progress?” The gravely voice on the other side.

“I got a lead on Squid, following it up now.” He climbed into his police cruiser.

“Good.” The line went dead.

“Fucking A.” O’Neil threw the Explorer into reverse and stomped on the accelerator. The engine raced, tires squealed. He spun the police car around in a cloud of smoke. O’Neil tore out of the parking lot and waited until the Smart Shop was out of sight before turning off the emergency lights. Brooke said Squid was seeing some bartender named Mandy. Skeeter’s is over on 44, just outside of town. He pulled off the road at a gated drive, the fire department access. The yellow gate was closed, rusty chain with a single shiny pad lock holding it closed. He opened his phone and went to contacts. He scrolled through the names and faces until he found what he was looking. He hit the dial button.

The phone rang a couple of times than a man answered his voice distant, tired. “Lambert.”

“Jimmy? It’s Tim, I didn’t wake you did I?”

“No, I just got in.” He worked the late shift.

“Real quick, then I’ll let you go. I’m looking for some body, a mutt named Evan Kelly goes by Squid. You run into him, maybe last night or this morning?”

There was a pause, “Doesn’t ring a bell, sorry Tim.”

“Alright. One more, I promise. How about a bartender named Mandy, works at Skeeter’s over there on 44.”

“Oh yeah. I had few run ins with her. Mostly disorderly, one assault but the guy she slapped around wasn’t pressing charges.” he chuckled to himself.

“You Stateie’s got a last name and maybe an address you could share?”

“Yea. Let me make a call and I’ll ring you back.”

“Appreciate it buddy.” He hung up. Looked at his phone, his hand still smelled like Brooke Kelly’s pussy.

Chief O’Neil parked at the end of the potted gravel driveway. Trooper Lambert hooked him up with the address and Mandy’s full name, Amanda Bickell. Luckily she lived at the edge of Elkridge Lake Township. A ten year old Toyota Camry with faded silver paint and a taped over taillight sat at the top of the drive just to the left of an old bungalow. The worn vinyl siding was once a vibrant yellow but was now dull and dirt stained. A single overgrown bush sat on the far corner of the small house.

O’Neil got out of the Ford Explorer, flexed his left knee while taking in his surroundings. A single oak tree occupied the majority of the yard. The lawn was cut but no other maintenance appeared to have been done in a long time. There was a light blue mobile home in the neighboring lot separated by a dilapidated wooden fence with a well kept hedgerow on the other side. Trees and brush blocked the view of any other possible neighbors. When his knee stopped aching he made his way to the front door. The garbage bag on the porch appeared to have clothes in it. Maybe men’s. Looked like some jeans, t-shirts. Squid’s favorite color, black. He banged on the door with his fist. Come on, Squid. I’m getting tired of looking for you. No answer. He knocked louder.

There was movement inside. Chief O’Neil put his hand on his gun.

“What the fuck?” A woman’s voice. An annoyed woman’s voice. The door flung open. She was in her mid-20’s, her bleached blonde hair in a messy bun on top of her head. Long pajama top with vertical pink and white stripes hung open over her tight cropped t-shirt. Her stomach was tight and flat, the muscles defined. Her adonis belt disappeared into her black panties. Toned legs, well tanned skin. No way was Squid fucking this chick.

“Sorry to bother you Miss. I was looking for an Amanda Bickell.” He pulled his notepad from his shirt pocket. Make it look official.

“Yeah?” There were slight bags under her brown eyes, eyes that ran up and down him.

“Do you know a Evan Kelly? Goes by the nickname, Squid?” O’Neil tapped the notepad with his pen.

“He ain’t here.” She shifted her weight, stuck her hip out.

“So, you know him?” O’Neil cocked an eyebrow at her.

“mm-hmm. But he ain’t here.” She twirled a strand of hair between two fingers. “Why are you looking for him?”

O’Neil chuckled, “I just need to talk to him, nothing too serious.” He looked past her, the living room was to the right, clothes draped over a reclining chair. Small dining table in the kitchen, a pizza box, red plastic cups and beer bottles covered it.