Page 1 of Brant
Chapter 1
"He needs help, Indigo, one that you surely cannot give him." Sheriff Campbell hiked his belt over the sagging weight of his belly and shifted his feet. "I'm friends with your family and God knows you've been through a hell of a lot-" He cleared his throat and shifted his feet again. "A heck of a lot," he amended.
"Your daddy was my very good friend and what happened was a damn shame. A damn shame indeed. But that boy in there needs to go to rehab and try and get clean. We've been giving him a free pass over the last few busts-"
"I really appreciate everything you've done, Sheriff." Indigo stifled the urge to scream her lungs out. They were in the waiting room of Hope General and had been given privacy by the doctors.
"Ahem." He cleared his throat and wished he were anywhere else. He had done his duty as an officer of the law and a friend to his dearly departed friend, but there was a limit to what he was allowed to do without stepping outside said duty.
Caleb Shepherd had been caught again with enough drugs on his person to charge him with intent to distribute. He had also been stoned out of his mind. The halfway house which had been busted by his officers was condemned and in a deplorable state.Sheriff Campbell had been appalled at how far his friend's son had sunk.
"He needs rehabilitation." Hitching his pants up again, he sat gingerly on the edge of the chair across from her. He could feel her pain. The thirty-year-old young woman seated across from him had gone through more heartache and trouble than anyone should be facing. She had slowly lost her dad after a bullet had damaged his spine. He had declined rapidly, dying when his organs started failing.
Then his wife had been struck down with dementia, which had quickly started her on a downward spiral. Campbell suspected that Jeremiah Shepherd getting shot that fateful night at the dealership he had been managing had been the beginning of the end for the family.
"It has to be a state run-"
"My dear." Reaching out, he patted her folded hands awkwardly. "I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but the court-mandated rehab centers are pure crap. Excuse my French." He harrumphed. "He needs quality, somewhere he can get the best care, one-on-one attention, if he's to kick the habit."
"And all of that spells money I don't have," she reminded him bitterly.
"I understand you're having some troubles of your own." He smiled at her in apology. "The wife is a fan of that delightful shop of yours, and you told her you would soon be out of business. It's a shame, really. You were doing so well."
"Thanks, Sheriff Campbell, for everything."
"You're welcome." He patted her hands again before rising a little stiffly.
"Well-" He cleared his throat again and coughed behind his fist. "If you need anything, you know where to find me."
"I do. Thanks." She managed a smile before leaning her head back and closing her eyes in despair.
She had received the call while she was at the shop. Caleb had been arrested again, and this time it was very serious. He had overdosed and was being rushed to the hospital. She had tried.
She loved her brother, and it pained her to see what he was doing to himself. He had taken their father's death hard, but it was losing their mother to the disease that ate away at her brain that had dealt the final blow. He had started using as soon as he realized how rapidly she had declined. She had started losingtrack of time and, soon after that, had not recognized her own children.
Blinking back the tears, she levered herself up and decided that she needed caffeine. She was going to speak to the doctors and try and sit with him for a while, but she needed some space and time.
She was just heading towards the cafeteria when she heard her name.
Stopping, she turned towards the sound and felt a jolt of surprise at the familiar face.
"I thought that was you. Hi." A quick smile of genuine pleasure lit up his tawny eyes as Brant O'Keefe walked towards her.
"Brant."
He clasped her hand briefly, eyes scouring her face and noticing the weariness etched there. "How are you, and what are you doing here?"
"My brother-" She struggled to say the rest and just lapsed into silence.
"Why don't I buy you a cup of coffee?" he suggested. Before she could accept or refuse as she was about to do, he took her arm and steered her into the almost empty cafeteria.
"What are you having?"
"A Coke."
"Grab us a table. I'll be right back."
She found one near the entrance and sat down. She really didn't want to unburden herself, especially to Brant O'Keefe, a man who was an intrinsic part of her past and a very painful reminder of what had transpired then.
