23
The panties were gone. Butch searched his office, retraced Paris’s steps to the house, even went through his jockey box, where she claimed to have found them. But they weren’t there, didn’t seem to be on the premises.
Where had she put them? He had no idea, but he hoped it was someplace safe.
“Daddy? What are you doing?”
Spotting his son playing in the planter by the front door as he came around the house from the carport, Butch conjured up a smile he didn’t feel. It hadn’t been an easy morning. First they’d had to put on that circus act for local television. Then they’d had to bury Demon. That had just about killed him. He’d cared more about that dog than ninety-five percent of the people in his life. “Looking for something I’ve lost, buddy.”
“Demon?”
“No, Demon died, remember?” Champ didn’t understand; he seemed to think Demon was sleeping, and his next words proved it.
“When’s he going to wake up?”
“He won’t be waking up. But we’ll get another dog, okay?” Butch couldn’t believe another dog could really replace Demon, but he hoped Champ would.
“Okay.” He continued to drive his miniature cars around the dirt roads he’d created between the plants. He even had a watering can beside him, so he could refill his “lake.”
Butch brushed past him, then stopped. Champ ran around the property all day, picking up one item or another for his pretend worlds. He couldn’t go into the salvage yard during working hours, when it was open to the public, or when Butch was using the big machinery, but it was a wonderland for him after hours. Was there any chance…
When Butch didn’t go inside, Champ angled his face up, squinting to avoid the glare of the sun. “Do you like my racetrack, Daddy?”
Butch moved over to provide him with some shade. “I do. Listen, bud. Mommy’s lost a pair of panties. Have you seen them?”
He wrinkled his nose. “Panties?”
“Yes. Underwear. The kind women wear. She dropped them after…after she finished the laundry, and I’m trying to find them for her. You haven’t seen them, have you?”
“Nope.” Champ made the sound of a motor as he pushed his cast-iron truck to the top of a small hill he’d created.
“You’re sure?” Butch asked.
His first question already forgotten, Champ looked up again. “What, Daddy?”
“Never mind.” What would Champ want with a pair of women’s panties? At that age, Butch’s fetish had already taken strong root. He could remember stealing his mother’s panties and bringing them to his room to fondle while hiding under the bed. But Champ hadn’t encountered what Butch had encountered. He was normal. Butch was eternally grateful for that. It offered him hope that he could create something positive from his life.
Tousling his son’s hair, he went inside, letting the screen door slam behind him. “Paris?”
“What?” She came out of the kitchen but didn’t give him a chance to tell her why he’d called out for her. “Have you seen Champ?” she asked. “Is he still out front?”
“Yeah, he’s playing in the planter.”
She tucked her hair behind her ears. “I wish I could put him in the dog run.”
“We just buried Demon and you’re already taking over his cage?”
“That dog was mean. He only liked you. And I’m thinking about Champ’s safety.”
“The run is filled with dog shit.”
“It wouldn’t be if you cleaned it.”
“Can’t your brother do anything?” Slipping past her, he went into the kitchen and poured himself some coffee.
She followed him. “You know how Mom and Dad protect him. They’ll think we’re being abusive if we give him such a nasty job.”
“Then clean it out yourself,” he grumbled, adding cream to his cup.
“I can’t. No time. So don’t blame me if Champ wanders off.”
Champ was as well-balanced as Butch could’ve hoped to be, and Butch wanted to be sure his son never met up with anyone or anything to change that. “You’d better watch him.”
“I try to. But if you want the house clean and the laundry done and the meals prepared, someone’s got to do it. And that someone is always me.”
“Bring him in when you’re in the house. And quit acting like you have it so damn rough.”
She muttered under her breath. He couldn’t tell exactly what she’d said, but he noticed that she was careful not to let her irritation go too far. Somehow, she still loved him. That realization brought a flood of relief because he had to ask her a difficult question.
Lowering his voice so no one else in the household would hear him, he spoke over the rim of his coffee cup. “Where’d you put those panties you found in my jockey box?”
She checked the mudroom behind her as if she feared Dean might be hiding there. Her brother seemed to overhear everything, to be right where they didn’t want him to be all the time. If it wasn’t for the old folks and the fact that this was their place, Butch would’ve kicked him out long ago. Dean didn’t have an outside job, so he didn’t contribute financially. He didn’t do much around the house, either. Occasionally, he volunteered to watch Champ, but Butch wouldn’t allow him to babysit without supervision. He understood better than most the damage a twisted adult could wreak on a young mind. Except for a few hours a day spent answering phones, filing, filling out invoices or accepting deliveries in the yard, Dean was a total waste of space. Mostly, he rambled aimlessly around town, bothering people who’d rather be left alone.
“I don’t know where they are,” she said. “Unlike you, I’m not attracted to other women’s underwear.”
When he ignored that, she backed off a bit, grew less combative. “Why?” she asked, now sulky.
“I can’t find them,” he admitted.
Her eyes narrowed. “Why do you want to find them? So you can jerk off while you remember?”
“Because we can’t afford to have them floating around, that’s why!”
The color drained from her face. “So they do belong to the Bonner woman.”
“No.” April had worn the ugliest old-lady panties he’d ever seen, probably because she’d never planned on getting naked with him. Her underwear had been as practical and unattractive as he’d found her, once they met. Like so many others, she’d posted a far more flattering picture of herself on the Internet. Maybe Butch occasionally lied about his name and his exact location, but he was truthful about everything else. He wished the women he met were that honest.