A Carol for Kent

Chapter 3-2

His parents always visited him at the hotel or backstage at his Richmond concert, but he never even so much as saw the ranch in all that time. Perhaps that’s why his longing for home was so strong right now. He’d been gone too long. Way too long.

Before he even knew it, he found himself turning onto the ranch road and drove through the gates just as the sun fully rose. He noticed the improvements that had been made over the years. While he hadn’t been there in person to actually work the horses, he felt a sense of pride that at least the money he had earned and sent to his parents had helped support this ranch where he grew up. It had been so near bankruptcy when he recorded his first album.

He knew that was the number one reason why his parents had encouraged him so much when he told them he wanted to drop out of college after a recording company had responded to one of his demos. He left the University of Georgia in-between his sophomore and junior year and drove his old pickup truck to Nashville, Tennessee. The first album had done nothing spectacular in the charts, but the money it made helped save the ranch.

By then he’d caught the fever and stayed in Nashville, and a little over a year later, The Amarillo Swing came out with a bullet on the charts, climbed a few hops to number one, and stayed there for five straight months, nearly setting a record for the longest run in the number one spot. It helped that a line dance choreographed for the song became the latest fad, and his album of the same name went double platinum.

He spotted the house through the trees and in the faint morning dusk he could see the lights on in the kitchen. Even on a Saturday, his mother would have risen before the sun, preparing coffee and breakfast, letting the smells slowly wake his father. Bobby smiled as he stopped the car and got out, leaving his bags for later. His mother was going to be really surprised to see him.

Saturday, April 21st

AS Carol gathered her purse and car keys, her work cell phone rang. She glanced at the number as she answered it. “Mitch,” Carol greeted as Lisa ran past her and through the front door.

“Afternoon, counselor. Wanted to let you know we got the lab results back. I know you’ll have the original in your office Monday morning.”

“Yeah. I have Lisa’s party this afternoon, so I very definitely will not be working today.”

“Well, just so you know, she was drugged. She had enough sedative in her that it wouldn’t have mattered if the guy strangled her or not. She would have probably suffocated from the date-r**e drug cocktail.”

Carol shut the door behind her. As she was stepping down off the top step, she heard her personal cell phone ringing inside the house. She almost went back inside to answer it, but then changed her mind. She was already running late, and she had her work cell since she was on call.

“Anything similar in any open cases that you know of?”

“Not this particular combination. But we are definitely checking.”

“Okay. Thanks for calling.”

“Sure thing. Enjoy the princess’s party. Send her the wife’s love.”

Carol grinned. “I will.” She made sure Lisa was strapped in, then got into the front seat and started her car. She had fifteen little eight and nine-year-olds showing up at Lisa’s grandparents’ ranch in less than three hours and had Lisa’s birthday lunch in the meantime.

The birthday girl had selected her favorite pizza parlor for her eighth birthday lunch, just as she had every year since she could pronounce the word. She brought Amy Bradford, best friend since kindergarten, along with her just as she also always had since the day they met. The two little girls giggled and whispered as they ate green olive pizza with extra cheese, and Assistant Commonwealth Attorney Carol Mabry intentionally let go of all thoughts concerning the strangled Certified Public Accountant.

She forced herself to focus entirely on her daughter while they were in the restaurant. By the time they piled back into her Jeep, she had mentally left murder and autopsy reports behind, and transformed from A. C. A. Carol Mabry into just Carol, just Ms. Mabry, just Lisa’s mom.

The drive to the ranch took twenty minutes, and the girls sat in the back seat, continuing their whispered conversation. The whispers got louder until they were full-fledged yells, and Carol finally interrupted them. “Girls! What are you two arguing about?”

“Ms. Mabry, who do you think is cuter? Trevor West or Bobby Kent?” Amy asked. Carol felt her stomach tighten.

“I told you, Bobby Kent is way cuter than Trevor West. Besides, Trevor West is married and has like a dozen kids. Bobby Kent isn’t married, so that makes him even more cute,” Lisa said. “Plus, he has the same name as my grandma and grandpa. That’s even more extra points.”

“What do you think, Ms. Mabry?” Amy asked again.

Carol refused to get a headache on Lisa’s birthday. Sometimes, tension and stress built up so badly that she would get headaches that made her have to lie down in a darkened room and fight back tears of pain. She had already decided it wasn’t going to happen to her today, despite the pain she felt creeping into her temples. She would will it away. “I think you two should play rock-paper-scissors, and whoever wins is right,” she said, turning onto the drive that led to the ranch house.

The game brought on another bout of arguing, but by then, Carol enjoyed the beautiful flowering dogwoods that lined the stretch of lane leading to the ranch house. On either side, rolling hills with green grass stretched out beyond black fences, peppered with grazing horses.

As they pulled up in front of the house, she noticed the extra vehicle but thought nothing of it. This time of the year, the Kents often hired extra hands to help with planting the hay fields and prepping the kitchen garden.

As they got out of the vehicle, she looked around and realized nothing had been done to prepare for Lisa’s party. Harriet was so efficient that Carol usually had nothing to do by the time she came over. She remembered her phone ringing right before lunch and immediately worried that something had happened to Robert. She turned to the girls as they got out of the Jeep. “Lisa, go look in on the new foal Lightning dropped last week. I’m going inside to see what grandma’s up to.”

“Okay, Mommy. Come on, Amy,” Lisa urged. They took off at a run toward the horse barn.

“Don’t go inside the stall without a grown-up. Just look if Daniel isn’t in the barn!” Carol called to them, then turned to go in the house. She had her hand on the door when Harriet opened it and stepped out onto the porch. With the older woman’s red-rimmed eyes, pale skin, and scraggly hair, Carol immediately knew something was very wrong.

“Carol,” Harriet greeted with a hitched breath, then she stopped.

“What’s the matter, Harriet?” Carol asked, taking the older woman’s arm and guiding her back to the door. “What happened? Is Robert all right?”

Harriet put her hand over her face and burst into tears. “Oh, Carol. I’m so sorry.” Carol steered her through the door and into the kitchen. Harriet collapsed into a chair at the table and buried her face in her hands, her body wracking with sobs. Carol looked over and saw Robert seated at the table. He looked so frail, like a strong wind might just break him to pieces. He reached out to take his wife’s hand.

“Robert, what is it? What happened?” she asked. She started feeling really frightened.

“Carol,” he whispered, then cleared his throat and stopped. He cleared his throat again, then said in a stronger voice, “Whatever happens, whatever gets said, you have to know that we are truly sorry. Don’t let this spoil Lisa’s birthday.”

“What’s going on?” Carol demanded, her teeth set. “Tell me right now. Right this second.”

UNOBSERVED until this moment, international Country Music superstar Bobby Kent studied Carol Mabry from the doorway of his parents’ kitchen. His parents had finally decided to tell him about two hours ago having exhausted every ploy in their arsenal in an attempt to convince him to leave. The anger at his parents burned through his system slow and low, like an underground lava flow.

To the casual observer, Bobby Kent had an even temper. Some might even describe him as mild-mannered, unflappable, or cool-headed. In reality, Bobby had his father’s temper, which is to say, he was a hothead with a short fuse. He could instantly go from feeling annoyance to full blown anger and all the way to wrath. He had recognized his anger problem early in life and taken steps to contain his emotions. He had taught himself coping skills and went to great pains never show his anger, which he perceived as weakness, to the world at large. It was the single aspect of his father’s personality he specifically wanted to prune from the family tree.

Even a lifetime of coping with feelings of anger had not sufficiently prepared Bobby for what his parents had confessed earlier. His mind rejected the fact that he had a daughter; an eight-year-old daughter. It was too much to fathom at one time. How could two people who professed to love him have kept that information from him? He hadn’t been able to get an explanation out of them yet. Both of them had been too upset to make any sense, but he assumed it had something to do with money. It nearly always did.

He figured the woman standing over them at the table could shed some light on the subject. For obvious reasons, he’d known who they were talking about before they’d even said her name. The moment she spoke, the moment he heard her voice, every recollection of her became vividly pronounced in his memory. They’d met in a classical violin class during a summer semester at the University of Georgia just four weeks before he received the call about his demo and packed his bags to leave. He had been amazed with her musical skill and impressed with her in general. He had asked her out, and they had shared some lunches, a dinner, and gone to a movie together on a double date.

The night he got the call, they had celebrated. They’d sat on the tailgate of his truck and eaten too many cheeseburger sliders, washed down with way too much celebratory champagne. The celebration had gone until dawn. Bobby assumed Lisa arrived a scant nine months later.

He wanted to turn his anger on someone other than his parents, but he couldn’t find it in him to force it onto her. The one thing his father, Robert, had been very clear about was that they had misled Carol all this time. All these years.

Years!

All that time, all these years, Carol believed Bobby knew all about his daughter, Lisa. Taking a deep breath, Bobby ran his hand through his hair and prepared himself to face her righteous wrath. He had a feeling it would take some time to convince her that he wasn’t the bad guy here.

He stepped into the kitchen, his boot hitting the linoleum, causing a sound that reverberated through the room. Carol stiffened, as if she knew whom she was about to see, and turned to face him. He watched the recognition come instantly, and suddenly her hazel eyes filled with burning rage so powerful he almost wished he hadn’t made his presence known.

“Oh, of course! Should have known,” she bit out through gritted teeth. “Exactly what are you doing here? Today of all days?”