Why Now? by Carey Heywood Read Free Book Online Page A

leave money on the counter to cover my bill, along with a healthy tip and leave. At the door, I catch Mrs. Fairlane’s eye and give a salute. There’s no reason to bother with goodbye yet, she’ll see me again.
    My realtor’s office is a short walk from the diner. Since we planned to meet, Rich is waiting for me in the parking lot.
    We take his car over to my grandparent’s house. Memories hit me the minute we pull into the drive. No matter how long I’ve been gone, this place will always be the last place I thought of as home. It’s your typical two-story craftsman. It was built sometime in the 70’s and was my Gram’s dream home.
    How much she loved this house shined through in each and every room. She kept it neat as a pin, spending far too much time dusting and sweeping towards the end, given her age. It was a great place to grow up.
    Thanks to the water restrictions, the grass in the yard looked like shit. However, the hedges and flowerbeds seemed maintained.
    Everything looks good until we get inside.
    “What the fuck happened?” I ask, turning, trying to take in the damage.
    Rich shakes his head, his mouth hanging open before replying, “I have no idea.”
    “Did the tenants do this?” I press, gesturing to the wall in front of us.
    It’s covered with holes and graffiti.
    “No, no. I’m sure they didn’t. A member of our office did a walk through with them before they turned in their key. There was no damage reported.”
    Moving through the house, the damage only increases. Towards the back of the house is evidence of a party. There are beer cans and even pipes on the floor.
    Rich stops me before I head upstairs. “I think we should call the police.”
    “What are they going to do?” I boom. “Are they going to dust for prints and find the punks who trashed my house? I doubt it.”
    Turning my back on him, I move upstairs.
    Fuck.
    It’s even worse up here.
    All of the bathrooms are trashed. It looks like some asshole took a baseball bat to the tile and mirrors. Mentally, I start doing the math. Even if I wanted to sell it, there’s no way I could break even with it in this condition and the amount of money it would take to repair everything.
    At the top of the stairs, it hits me and I sit down right there. The destruction I’m sitting in does not reconcile in my mind with the place I grew up in.
    It’s a good thing Gram is dead. Seeing her home like this would have killed her. Lord knows what Reilly will think if she sees it. If?
    There’s a lot of shit to do with the house that I’ve kept from her, but there will be no way I can hide this.
    Will I ever be free?
    When I came out here, I thought I was so close. Seems like a few more years have been added to my sentence.
    Getting back to my feet, I make my way down the stairs. Rich was right, I need to at least file a police report. More than likely, they’ll never be caught, but there’s insurance on this house. Hopefully, vandalism is covered. If it’s not, I’m screwed.
    Rich takes one look at me and says, “I’ll call them.”
    Not long after, two uniforms come to take the report. The four of us walk the perimeter and find what we guess was the point of entry—the busted backdoor.
    Since none of the vandals were helpful enough to leave a form of ID amongst the debris, the officers confirm my suspicion that there’s little chance we’ll find out who did this.
    “There has been a rise in cases like this,” One of them says. “They’ll find a vacant house, throw a party, and tear it apart.”
    Rich shakes his head. “I don’t know what’s gotten into the kids nowadays.”
    The officer agrees. “My partner and I are going to go see if we can interview any of your neighbors. If anything turns up,” he lifts the notebook he used to take down my contact info, “we’ll be in touch. Here’s my card,” he passes it to me, “in case you need to get a hold of me.”
    After I thank them both for their time, Rich takes me back to