Kristen Ashley - For You

I wish to thank Stephanie Redman Smith, former Communications Officer for the Boone County, Indiana Sherriffs Department and Sgt. Steve Smith of the Lebanon, Indiana Police Department for their input and assistance while I was writing For You. Of course, I took some liberties but only cops and former dispatch officers will know which ones (I hope). Thank you both for working alongside me with this novel and helping me to make Colts voice and the story more real and, for the most part, accurate.

Until that day, Id made an art out of avoiding Alexander Colton.

All my work would be for nothing, all because of Angie.

Poor, sweet, stupid, dead Angie.

Martin Fink and Christopher Renicki were the first two uniforms that responded to my call. Id known Marty and Chris for ages. It was good they were partners. Chris was smart; Marty, not so much.

We were out in the alley, Chris doing crime scene stuff, Marty standing by me. A couple of squad cars with their lights silently flashing had pulled in on either side of the dumpster, other uniforms had been dispatched to hold back the growing crowd and the crime scene tape was secured by the time Alec showed up.

Hed parked elsewhere and didnt come through the bar like I expected him to. He had keys to the bar for one. For another, he knew the bar nearly as well as I did and not only because he spent a good deal of time sitting at the end of it, my brother standing inside the bar in front of him, both of them drinking beer and talking about shit I couldnt hear because I stayed well away.

Another surprise was he also didnt have his partner Sully with him.

I watched him as he walked up to Marty and me.

The detectives in town, not that there were many of them, wore ill-fitting, inexpensive suits or nice trousers and shirts with ties.

Not Alec.

Jeans, boots, wide leather belt, sports jacket that looked tailored for him (probably a present from Susie Shepherd) and a nice shirt.

Alec was a big guy even when he was a kid, just kept growing and growing. Dad used to say if he didnt stop his head would touch the clouds. Mom thought Alec and my brother Morrie were best friends because they were both the biggest kids in the class and it just grew from that. Morrie grew out as well as up, however. Alec just grew tall and broad but stayed lean. Alec was tight end to Morries offensive lineman, during high school and in all things life. Morrie did the grunt work and never got the glory. Alec knew how to block and was really good at it but every once in awhile he got the chance to shine.

Alecs dark hair was too long but hed always worn it too long, even as a kid, but hed done it then because his mother was such a shit mother, she never remembered to get it cut. My Mom finally ended up taking Alec to the barber when she took Morrie. Later he kept it long just because he was Alec. It curled around his ears and neck now and, as with everything Alec, it looked a little wild.

I stood there and watched silently as he made it to me and Marty, his eyes never leaving me. He didnt even look at Angie.

Feb, he said on a short nod.

Alec, I replied.

His eyes were a weird color, light brown with a hint of gold. His Dad had the same eyes but his Dads eyes werent exactly like Alecs. Alecs Dads eyes were mean.

Those eyes got hard as did his mouth when I called him Alec. They always did. Everyone called him Colt. Everyone. Even my Mom and Dad started calling him Colt years ago after what happened.

Only his folks and me called him Alec anymore, not that he talked to his folks since his Dad was in prison for the second time and his Mom was never sober and he never spoke to her. Not that I talked much to him either.

He hated it when I called him Alec but I didnt call him Alec to be a bitch or anything, just that he was Alec to me, he always had been.

Colt, Chris said, calling his attention and Alec looked his way.

That was when he caught sight of Angie.

I looked at her too and wished I hadnt. Id already seen enough, too much, so much Id never forget.

Id gone to high school with Angie. Wed been friends once upon a time, good friends. You could say we still were, but not good ones.

No, we werent anything anymore because now she was dead.

Alecs midsection came into my vision and cut off sight of Angie. I lifted my eyes to Alecs face, which was still hard but now he was directing his hard look at Marty.

Whys she out here? he asked, sounding pissed off.

What? Marty asked back, sounding as usual, confused.

Jesus, Marty, Alec muttered, still sounding pissed and his eyes cut to me. Go inside, Feb.

I stared at him and didnt move a muscle.

Feb, inside, he repeated.

I still stared at him.

He took a step toward me and said low, February.

My body jerked and I nodded. Inside would be good. Inside would be fucking awesome.

I went inside, headed directly to Morrie and my office, Mom and Dads old office, the office Morrie and Alec and I practically grew up in and coffee. I could still taste the vomit in the back of my mouth. I hadnt actually puked but it had threatened.

I was pouring a cup when Morrie came in.

Alec was big but my brother was enormous. He was also demonstrative.

He walked right up to me, took the coffee cup from my hand, plunked it down, yanked the coffeepot out of my other hand, slid it under the filter and then engulfed me in a hug.

I should have started crying then, I suppose. But I didnt.

You okay, Feb? Morrie asked and I nodded, my cheek sliding against his big, barrel chest.

I wondered briefly why he was there. It wasnt his turn to open, it was mine.

My guess? Alec had called him.

Sis, he whispered at my nod and I closed my eyes. He didnt call me Sis very often anymore, hadnt since we were kids. I missed it.

Still, no tears came.

You want coffee? I asked, Morrie pulled away and gave me a look.

He didnt like what he saw, I knew it but he still said, Yeah.

I made him a cup and we were taking sips when Alec filled the doorframe.

In the light I caught sight of the scar under his left eye. It was a little, puckered, crescent moon, about the size of your thumbnail. I thought that was weird, it being that small, considering at the time it was made it bled a whole helluva lot.

As it did anytime I saw it, it made flashbacks flood my brain. Flashbacks of Alec, sixteen years old and sitting silent on the toilet seat in my Mom and Dads bathroom and me, fourteen, standing there wiping the blood off his face with one of Moms wet washcloths. Morrie coming in, giving me ice, me wrapping it up and holding it to the gaping cut under Alecs swelling eye. My Dad walking in, taking in Alec, his bloodied face, his knuckles torn, bleeding and swollen, the way he held his body like if he moved it would be torture and saying, Police are going to your place, Colt, youre going with me, Jackie and the kids to the hospital.

That was the first time my father called him Colt. He never addressed him as anything else since.

Jesus, what the fuck, Colt? Morrie said upon seeing him. Mom and Dads bar? Seriously? Who the fuck would do that?

Alecs gaze flicked to Morrie and he shook his head.

This was a good question, I thought. A dead body behind their bar? Crazy. My Mom and Dad were beloved in this town. So were their parents. So was Morrie.

Me? I wasnt sure. Maybe.

Or at least, I once had been.