Ch.10

2 years later

Charlotte stood before her father, staring at the account books of his Meth deals. She hadn't said much since she'd shown up that morning. She had new scratches and a bruise that hadn't been there when she'd left work the night before. Walter could see them; he knew that Mac had been the one to deal out the punishment. It didn't stop him from feeling a twinge of guilt and worry for his daughter.

"He looks as bad as I do." Her voice was soft, but Walter understood. It hadn't been an angry Mac that had inflicted the marks, but a couples quarrel. He accepted her justification with a sigh. She'd changed so much in the seven years since she'd been dropped in Cainsville; even more in the last two. Her strange pewter eyes, once bright, had dulled significantly with every new scar. Her multi-colored hair wasn't nearly as lustrous, becoming limp and stringy. She was still beautiful, but the bags under her eyes made her look older than her twenty years. The scars she'd accumulated over the last four years were the worst of it. Since she and Mac had started having sex, she'd started showing up to the Luna Mesa with bite marks, scratches, bruises, cuts. Charlotte never went into detail on them and Mac, to Walter's knowledge, didn't pay them any mind.

"You're missing money." Again, Charlotte's even voice broke through the silence of the empty bar. She was looking up at him now, arms resting on the counter, propping her body up. Her lithe frame stretched out, spine arched. With all the faults, Charlotte had never let her body falter. She was meticulous about keeping her supple body tight in all the right places, for Mac mostly, but Walter suspected she'd come to like the long stares she got from the travelers that passed through the bar and even from the men in town that thought they didn't fear Mac.

"What do ya mean?" His voice was gruff, thick with his Spanish accent. He came around the counter, shoving a stool out of the way to make room to stand by his daughter's side.

"By the logs, sales have gone up, however," she pointed out the lines that illustrated her words, "your total income, after restocking supplies in the canyon, is lower than it was last month and it shouldn't be." She gave Walter time to read over what she'd explained, hiking herself up onto a stool on her left.

"Could your math be wrong?" Charlotte took a little bit of offence to that question, but didn't hold it against her father. He was irritated, knowing it had to be one of the few people he'd let in to the business that had smuggled the money. The question wasn't too outrageous, anyway. She'd only attended school until she was fourteen and came to Cainsville; then she'd taken up her education in the Luna Mesa and the canyons. She'd taught herself the math needed to do Walter's accounting, using her basic algebra skills as a base for the new techniques, because she'd wanted to be useful and part of the 'family business', but other than that, nothing. Walter nodded once, "Neva mind." It was the closest thing to an apology she was going to get.

"I can call Mac, if you want, and Rick. They can start looking into Lowell and Tanner."

Another nod of ascent from Walter.

"Good." He wasn't outwardly showing any signs of anger, but that alone told Charlotte more than his yelling ever could. Whoever was trafficking Walter's money wasn't going to live much longer. She thought about it as she headed to the backroom where Walter kept the personal phone. Lowell wasn't the sharpest tool in the shed, but he had a pregnant wife and an alcohol problem. The extra money would give him a safe guard for a few more months. Tanner, on the other hand, had the means and motive to take the money. Mac was constantly berating the guy, treating him like shit. Even more so after he caught Tanner talking about Charlotte, detailing which positions he'd like to have her in. Surely Tanner wouldn't try something so incredibly stupid.

Charlotte dialed the number for the auto repair garage, Barney answered. His voice was rough with age. The old black man had been around, Mac had said once, since before he was born, ranging somewhere from fifty-seventy. He was a sweet man, always nice and flirty-in that way old men were.

"Well, if it ain't Little Lottie, what's a pretty girl doin callin an old man?" Charlotte giggled, wrinkling her nose with a smile, even though the man couldn't see her.

"I'm calling for Walter, is Mac around?" Barney chuffed.

"Mac's always getting calls from all the pretty girls; nobody ever calls for Ol' Barney." The man's grumbling grew quite as he moved from his office to find her brother. Charlotte tried to brush off his comment about all the pretty girls that called Mac as the ramblings of an old man, but it still stung.

"What?" Mac's voice startled Charlotte.

"Walter-" her voice cracked a little, she cleared her throat and continued, "Walter needs you to come by. It's important."

"The fuck does that bastard want?" Mac barked. Lottie was thankful he couldn't see her roll her eyes. Why couldn't he just say 'yes Charlotte, I'll be there at lunch'? Cause that would be too easy for Mac.

"It's about the canyons," she answered vaguely, there was a chance that someone was listening in, Walter had taught her that, and if someone was listening, they could turn…well, they could pretty much turn the whole of the town in for drug cooking and trafficking. For a few breaths, Mac was silent.

"I'll be there," he grunted. The dial tone was a clear indication that the conversation was over.

"Kay Mac, see you soon," Charlotte muttered bitterly, dropping the phone onto its cradle.

Charlotte returned to the main room to see Walter drying glasses with a rag. His dark brown eyes were unfocused, staring at a few pictures tacked to a wooded pillar next to the bar. She knew which picture he was most drawn to. It was in the center of the collage, an old Polaroid, faded and discolored at the edges, but the actual picture was unharmed. The younger version of her father smiled brightly in the picture, one arm wrapped around a pleasantly plump blonde woman wearing his favorite cowboy hat over her pretty curls. Her captured image was laughing, making her dimples stand out. She was absolutely beautiful, but she'd left Walter for her parents' choice of husband and moved out of the small town to start a precious family. Walter had never really gotten over the loss of the pretty blonde.

"Mac'll be here soon," Charlotte proclaimed softly, careful not to jar Walter too badly from his memories. Walter nodded once, placing the glass on shelf and picking up another.

"Good girl." Charlotte stood for a moment, looking around the empty bar before returning her gaze to the Polaroid. She'd never learned the woman's name, she thought idly. She grabbed the rag dangling from the apron around her hips, pushing the blonde lady aside and began dancing around the bar, wiping down tables and humming to herself.

It was eleven when she'd gone into the back to call Mac. By one, Charlotte had finished wiping down the tables, setting up the chairs and center napkin and condiments holder. She'd moved on to arranging the liquor bottles under the counter for Walter, when Mac sauntered in, slamming the door against the wall as an announcement. He wasn't nearly as good at keeping his anger discrete as Walter was. Mac was furious; it was visible on every part of his being as he stomped up to the bar in front of Walter and slammed his fists down.

"What the hell do you want old man?" Charlotte handed her father the account books, keeping her head angled at the bottle of Southern Comfort in her hand. Walter didn't bother to give Mac time to look over the numbers; it would be pointless, Mac had less schooling than Charlotte.

"We're three grand short."

"There's no fucking way, Rick and I have been in the canyon every night, we laid more bricks than we ever have!"

Charlotte decided now would be the best time to step in. If those two kept at it, nothing would get done and both men would be uncompromising and violent. "You and Rick should look into Tanner first. I'll look into Lowell's bank account, but I don't think he's the one running the money." Mac turned his rage on her.

"You don't think? Who fucking asked you?" His hand came across the bar, wrapping around her arm to jerk her forward. The bottle of Southern Comfort hit the floor, shattering and spilling the amber liquid across the floor. To her credit, Charlotte didn't make a sound. It only made things worse when she whined. Walters's hand came down on Mac's wrist, squeezing until Charlotte could hear the bones grind together. Mac let go, but Walter didn't ease up. He twisted his son's arm behind his back until Mac's shoulder gave a sick popping sound.

"You don't get to touch her when I'm around," Walter growled, shoving Mac's face against the bar top for emphasis. Mac snarled and spit, but his father was much stronger than anyone ever gave him credit for. "Who the hell do you think you are, beating on your girl? You stupid bastard, I raised you better than that!" It was Charlotte who finally stepped in, coming around the bar to place a hand on her father's shoulder.

"Daddy, that's enough." Her voice was soft, but that was generally what got her more attention. Yelling only caused more yelling, but keeping a level head and calm attitude got more responsiveness. Walter frowned; slamming Mac's face into the counter top, and then let him go.

"Go fucking figure out who has my money!" Walter ordered. Mac straightened, wiping blood from his mouth. He sent a glare to Charlotte as he passed her for the door.

"You're gonna get it when you get home." Charlotte didn't acknowledge the threat, if she gave him head when they got home, he'd be happy again. The door slammed shut behind her brother and Charlotte turned to head back behind the bar to clean the liquor that had spilled.

"Leave it." Walter indicated with his hand to the puddle. "Start working on hacking Lowell's bank account." Charlotte nodded, untying her apron and hanging it over a bar stool.

"I'll call if I find anything." With that she left, climbing into the shit Ford Walter had gotten her for her twenty-first birthday. It started after a few tries and Charlotte put it in gear, steering out of the parking lot and onto the dirt road. She headed toward home, thinking about all that she'd have to do when she got there. It wasn't hard to hack into bank accounts, especially in Cainsville. She wondered though, if Tanner really did take the money, what did he get from it?

It didn't take her long to get from the Luna Mesa to home. She could see it as she turned off the main road and onto what should have been called a neighborhood. Charlotte maneuvered the car slowly over the bumpy dirt road and came to an abrupt halt as she saw another car parked in her spot next to Beast's cage. The other car was completely black, windows tinted so much that she couldn't see the interior. There was a symbol on the side of the SUV, a circle with a strange looking bird shape. She couldn't read the words, but the man leaning against the open driver's side didn't look like a lost traveler.

She pulled the truck into Mac's usual spot, pulling the small handgun from under her seat. She watched the man as she searched for the gun. He was staring at Beast, frowning. She looked to the words on the side of the SUV, they were clear now and Charlotte realized, whoever took Walter's money had a lot more in store for the old Hispanic man.