Page 15 of Tripp

“Are you sure you want me here?” he asked seriously as we approached the porch steps.

“Yes. For one, I can’t legally work in this state. Second, there’s a reason she wouldn’t tell us what she found. Why climb a tree like that in the first place? Why not use a flashlight; so much of that damn story has me scratching my head. This math ain’t mathing.”

“Pops, you know, we’ve all been in similar situations. You’re pinned down for one reason or another. You survive, and everything else just falls into place.”

“We have been there, done that. Not her. She’s not trained for that.”

I knocked on the door, waiting; wanting to see her. To make sure she was okay. I had to knock a second time before the door opened.

“Hey, come in,” Scooter said, backing away from the door. “Have a seat, we’ll be right there. There was an accident?—”

“Accident?” I moved into the house, calling out for Casey. “Casey, where are you? Casey!”

I found her a moment later, bending over a changing table. The smell took a minute to register and when it did, I took a step backwards.

“As I was saying, there was an accidental poop-a-palooza. We were busy.”

Phoenix barked out a laugh from the other room. See, kids could be assholes.

“Man, I remember those days. Remember when Phoenix had one of those and decided to paint his crib and the wall? His mom was so mad she sent me a letter while we were in Iraq. I could tell her disgust and horror in the writing alone.” I chuckled.

I stepped into the room and grabbed the pack of Lysol wipes off the dresser. The yellow lid was already open, so I went to work on the crib railing. A few of the spindles had been painted in spots.

“You don’t?—”

“It’s fine, I’ve got it.” I tried to reassure her that I was okay doing this. I needed the time to think. I didn’t know yet how I wanted to approach her about everything going on in my head. Other than the case she was working on; that I had a handle on.

Phoenix had told me yesterday of his suspicion that her daughter was my child. He saw himself in the little girl. It was a possibility. We’d spent a night together. She’d been upset. Her asshole of a husband had laid hands on her.

The thought of him, or anyone, putting their hands on her—I had to take a deep breath to calm myself. That was a big mistake. I gagged at the sudden stench of shit that rolled through my senses.

“What are you feeding this kid?” I questioned, chuckling.

“Nothing that smells like this, I can assure you that.” She wrinkled her nose as the little one babbled. “Right, princess poopy butt?” She stood the little one up on the changing table so she could finish getting her dressed.

A phone rang in another room. Scooter disappeared then came back growling.

“AJ needs me. Seems Trace and Skip have been called out on a case.”

“Don’t worry, we’ll be fine. I hurt my ankle; it’s not that serious.”

“Go on, Scooter, Phoenix and I can help out if need be.”

“You sure, man?”

“Yes. I need to talk to Casey about this case of hers anyway. We will be here for a while.”

“Okay. If you need me, just holler. I can be home in less than five minutes.”

“Don’t make me throw this shitty diaper at your head.”

“Brat.”

“Love you, too,” she called out as he departed.

“Back at you!”

Ten minutes later, I had the crib clean. “I think you’re going to need more wipes.”

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