by C. K. Walker
“What about the Skinned Men?” I asked, caught up in the moment.
“What are you talking about, boy?” He growled.
“And the treehouse! The Triple Tree, what is it? What is it for?”
“Triple Tree? Is that what he’s offering again? We paid triple the price but it was only for a short while, when things were slow. We certainly never charged triple, that’s just bad business.”
“Where is Bor-“
“Has my idiot boy been telling you that? Did he offer you triple for them? He’s ruining my town, isn’t he? Goddamn it, Jimmy, you get him in here! Aida, get my boy on the phone, you tell Jimmy I wanna talk him! You tell him they’re still mine! Aida! Aida, get Jimmy on the phone!”
Kimber jumped up and Kyle pushed her behind him as the old man rose to his feet, tall and surprisingly imposing for his fragility. We were already backing toward the door when the orderly came in with a disapproving look on his face and shooed us out. Long after we’d made it to the lobby we could still hear Tom Prescott yelling for his son.
The ride home was quiet and I spent it trying to fit the pieces of the puzzle together. The Skinned Men, the Triple Tree, the Shiny Gentleman, the powder. These things seemed to have been pulled blindly from the ether, random and meaningless. The veil over my eyes was thick and heavy but I was closer to Borrasca than I’d ever been before. I could feel it all around me, I just couldn’t see it.
I snapped out of my thought when I realized Kyle was pulling over off the road. He put the car in park and turned around to look at me in the backseat.
“Is this really about Whitney, Sam?”
“Yes.”
Kimber watched us with worried eyes.
“Why? The cops, I mean, even your father confirmed that Whitney ran away.”
“I don’t believe them.” I said through clenched teeth.
“Look, Sam, we’re getting pretty deep in here and I am with you every step but I have to know that there’s a reason we’re doing this. And pulling Kimber in, too. I have to know this is important to you for the right reasons and not just an…obsession.”
I looked out the window and realized he’d pulled over near the West Rim Prescott Ore Trailhead. He was right to worry and even more so to be protective of Kimber. Kyle was thinking it and so was I: it was all about the powder. If Borrasca really did involve moving drugs did I want to involve my friends any further? This wasn’t their fight. I loved these people, could I really risk their safety for my own curiosities and vendettas? But as hard as I wished I could let them go I knew I needed them in this with me.
“I have to know what really happened to Whitney.” I said quietly.
Kyle turned back around without a word and Kimber placed her hand on mine. I jerked it away and crossed my arms but immediately apologized. Kimber just smiled in a forgiving sort of way.
Kyle sighed. “Sam…“
He was interrupted by the piercing ring of Kimber’s phone. She scrambled for her cell to silence it but when she saw the name on the screen she quickly answered.
“Dad?”
…..
“What? Wait, what- what do you mean?”
…..
“Dad, hello?”
……
“No, wait, slow down. Hello?” She took the phone away from her ear. “Something happened to my mom and she’s at the hospital.” She said in a sort of shock.
Kyle threw the car in gear and screeched out of the parking lot. We made the 10 mile trip to the hospital in as many minutes, which was criminally fast on surface streets. Kyle slammed on the brakes at the emergency entrance and Kimber and I ran inside.
A deputy was already there waiting. He refused to answer Kimber’s desperate questions as he led us down the hall to her father. When the deputy swung the doors open I saw my dad standing next to Kimber’s and I immediately braced myself for the worst.
Kimber’s dad took her in one direction and my dad and I went in another. Before he said a word to me I saw Kimber crumble to the floor on the other side of the room. I looked at my dad for confirmation and he gave me a sympathetic nod and pulled me into a hug.
We sat down in a corner and I stared at my hands as he quietly explained that Mrs. Destaro had gone grocery shopping at around 1 o’clock, come home, put the groceries away, made two lasagnas and a meatloaf and put them in the freezer. Then she got in her car, drove to the hospital, parked in the shade, took the stairs up seven floors to the roof and jumped off of it. She lived long enough to apologize to the EMT who found her.
I watched Kimber wail from across the room as her mother’s body grew cold in the morgue beneath us.
*
“Do you think she blames herself?”
“I don’t know, man. Probably.” I stretched out on the reclined seat of my Chevy and pulled the bill of my hat lower over my eyes.
“But do you think she’s okay?”
I didn’t answer him. I certainly hadn’t been okay when Whitney died and Kimber was even closer to her mom than I was to my sister. She was definitely not okay. “Sam, seriously. I’m fucking freaking out here, it’s been two days.”
I pushed my hat up off of my face and looked over at Kyle who was admittedly a wreck. His eyes were bloodshot, his face sallow and his red hair was slick with grease.
“Dude, her mom committed suicide. You how close Kimber was to her mom. She just needs some time but she’ll be okay.”
“She hasn’t answered any of my texts or calls. I’ve left her like nine voicemails, man, I think I’m going crazy.”
“You just have to give her space.”
“Yeah, but she’s my- my-…” He still couldn’t say it around me. “I’m supposed to be looking after her.”
I sat up and pulled the chair upright behind me. “Look, Kyle, I know you want to help Kimber - I want to help Kimber too, but she hasn’t answered our calls, been to school or come to the door when we’ve gone to her house. She doesn’t want to see us. Right now Kimber knows what’s best for Kimber.”
“What about the suicide note? You think that has something to do with it?”
I sighed. “We don’t even know if there was a note. Kimber’s dad was pretty messed up when he said that and I probably misheard him, anyway. I asked my dad and he said there was no letter.”
“Right, because your dad is such a beacon of truth.” One look at Kyle told me he immediately regretted his words. I shrugged.
“I don’t know what to believe anymore.”
The truth was that I was sure of what I’d heard. Mr. Destaro had said something to the cops about a letter, but I couldn’t tell Kyle that, not right now. He was already worried that his relationship with Kimber was part of the reason her mom had been so depressed.
I’d asked my dad about the letter when he’d come home after that long night and he’d sighed, run both of his hands through his hair in a tired sort of way and said, “Sam, I don’t know what to tell you. Anne Destaro didn’t leave a suicide note and this is the first I’ve heard of it.”
With our best friend in mourning and our investigation on hold, Kyle and I had been existing in a sort of suspended state. We went to school intermittently, skipping classes here and there, missing end-of-year tests and smoking more weed than either of us could afford. Without Kimber there to set us straight and keep us in line we were lethargic, brooding, and irresponsible. I’d never realized how much I relied on her.
Kyle and I skipped the last two periods of the day and debated on whether we should even go to school the following day, which was the last day of our senior year and graduation. We finally decided to show up for second period, which was fortunate because Kimber showed up in Biology.
I didn’t even see her at first. I had my head down on my desk resting on my folded arms when I felt a meek hand pat my shoulder. I turned around to see her standing there, looking unsure and uncomfortable. I gave her half a smile and pulled her into a hug. But it wasn’t a Super-Comforting-Not-At-All-Awkward Kimber hu
g. It was a longer, weaker hug and I felt so protective in it that I was sad when it was over.
“How are you doing, K?” I asked her.
Kimber wiped a tear off of her cheek. “I’m okay.” She gave me a wobbly smile and I knew it wasn’t true.
I wrapped her into another quick hug as Phoebe Dranger gave us a snotty look. “Have you seen Kyle yet?”
“No. I have next period with him.”
“He’s been worried about you.”
“I know,” she said, sliding her eyes to the floor. “Things have been…really hard for me at home.”
“It’s okay,” I said, “we’re here for whatever you need.”
“Yeah, that’s…that’s what I was hoping.”
“Whatever you need.”
Since it was the last day of school our teacher, Mr. Founder, was just happy to return our graded tests and let us bullshit for the rest of the period. Kimber talked about the arrangements for the funeral that weekend and chided me for skipping finals to get stoned. When the bell finally rang I could tell that Kimber was both excited and nervous to see Kyle. As we packed up our bags I assured her that Kyle wasn’t mad, he was really just worried about her. She threw her bag over her shoulder, set her jaw and nodded. Kimber was trying so hard to keep it together.
As soon as Kyle saw her from down the hall he slammed his locker shut and walked towards us with such intensity that I began to wonder if maybe he was mad. He pushed past a dozen people without so much as glancing at them and left a curious, if annoyed, crowd in his wake. When he finally reached us Kyle threw his backpack against the wall and swooped Kimber up in the sort of way you’d see in old, black and white movies. Everyone who’d watched all this unfold, including me, groaned in unison.
Since most of the teachers weren’t even bothering to take attendance that day I went to Calculus with Kimber and Kyle where they had the same conversation that Kimber and I had had last period. Towards the end of the hour the conversation faulted and became uneasy. Kyle and I exchanged a look over the top of Kimber’s head and I nodded at him.
“Kimber,” he said quietly, “did you mom leave a letter?”
“What?” Kimber asked in surprise.
“I heard your dad talking about a letter on the day that- on, ah…on Tuesday.” I said.
“Oh.”
As we waited for her to continue the bell rang for lunch. Everyone filed out of the room but the three of us, who stayed sitting on our desks.
“Kimber.” I finally said.
She sighed sadly and looked over at Kyle. “Yes.”
“There was a letter? What did it say?” He asked nervously.
“I don’t know, I haven’t seen it. I asked my dad for it when we got home and he said I’d misheard him and there was no letter. He said not to mention it to anyone else or I’d just upset people.”
“Well, then we both misheard him,” I said. “Which seems unlikely.”
“I’ve known my dad all my life. And I know when he’s lying.”
People started to filter in for the next period, sliding sympathetic glances at Kimber. Since it was our lunch hour we gathered up our things and walked out to my car, as we always did. I sat in the backseat, letting Kyle and Kimber take the front.
Kimber took a deep breath and continued. “I know my dad is lying and I know he has the letter.”
“Are you sure?” Kyle asked. I could tell he was still terrified that some of the blame rested on him.
“Yeah. And all I know it contains the name ‘Prescott’.”
“Prescott?” Yet somehow I wasn’t surprised. He was the axis around which everything bad that happened spun.
“How do you know it says Prescott?” Kyle asked.
“I heard my dad reading it once. I think he reads it a lot, actually. He was sort of sobbing and whispering the words and throwing things in his bedroom. My dad…he hasn’t been well.”
“Do you think she was having an affair with Jimmy Prescott?”
I shook my head. “I’m guessing you need to think bigger than that, Kyle.”
“I agree,” Kimber said to her lap. “With everything we know about the Prescott’s I’m fairly sure this isn’t about an affair. It’s all connected somehow, don’t you think? My dad was the love of my mom’s life but she only left a letter for me. I think that somehow I’m the one she wronged, not him. You know? I think she did something to me. Or…maybe she did it because of me.” Kimber’s voice broke over the last sentence and Kyle pulled her over, kissed the top of her head and whispered words to her that I couldn’t hear.
“So we need to get the letter,” I said after giving them a minute.
“Yes. I really need to read it.” Kimber’s voice was still wobbly.
“How do we get it?” I asked.
“If it’s in his bedroom we just need to wait until her dad isn’t home.” Kyle said as he looked out the window.
“You don’t think I thought of that?” Kimber sighed. “He never leaves his room, not since we got home from the hospital. He sleeps in there.”
“So we need to get him out.”
“No, we need to get me in. Tomorrow is my mom’s funeral and half of Drisking will be there, including my dad of course. I need to leave without him noticing and run home so I can go through the office.”
“Okay, that’s easy,” I said.
“Without my dad noticing. And I need to be back by the end of the service.”
We both nodded but stayed silent because it looked like Kimber was weighing saying more.
“My dad…he’s been very cold and I think...I think he blames me.” Kimber finally said.
“That’s bullshit.” Kyle spat.
“Can you guys help me?”
“Absolutely.”
“Of course.”
We spent the rest of the lunch hour creating a plan far more strategic than the mission probably called for. Kyle and I would engage Mr. Destaro in conversation and then Kyle would get a “text” from Kimber telling him she was having a breakdown in the bathroom. Kyle would leave to go “comfort” her and they would take my car to the Destaro house. I would stay behind and keep an eye on Kimber’s dad while they were gone. We all decided that in light of everything that was going on, we would skip graduation that evening.
I went to work in the afternoon for the first time since Monday. Meera seemed to be in a much better mood and let me go home early for the graduation ceremony that I wouldn’t be attending. I went straight to bed, skipping all my parent’s concerns about the milestone I was missing out on by deciding not to walk that evening. I didn’t sleep well. Just before 4 a.m. I got up to go through my clothes looking for something dressy and black to wear to the funeral.
My dad came in before he left for work and found his disheveled, panicked son looking helplessly through piles of black and gray clothing. He smiled sadly and led me to his own closet. Since my dad and I had not only the same face but the same build as well finding something suitable to wear was easy. I thanked him and he asked me to apologize to Kimber for having to work through the service and that he sends his love.
Anne Destaro’s funeral was at an Episcopalian church on the other side of town. I picked Kyle up at 9 and saw he was also wearing a suit of his Dad’s though he didn’t fit it nearly as well and he was constantly pulling at the sleeves and readjusting the waistline. Unfortunately for Kyle he was much taller than his dad.
We parked as far away from the church as possible in a spot no one would notice a car leaving from.
When we went inside the church we saw that Kimber wouldn’t have to do much acting to convince people she was having a breakdown. She was at the back of the room, tucked into a chair, just a puddle of curly red hair and tears.
Kyle sat down next to her and pulled her into a hug. “Jesus, Kimber, what’s wrong?”
I kicked his foot and shot him a look that said ‘really?’. Kyle bit his lip. “I mean, ah… Fuck.”
“There’s no one here,” Kimbe
r whispered against his chest “My mom grew up here, she had hundreds of friends in this town and no one came!”
We looked around and I had to admit, the turnout was sparse. A few groups of three or four people standing together, Kimber’s dad who sat in a chair opposite the room of his daughter and some family I recognized from BBQs at Kimber’s house. Ex-Sheriff Clery with his wife Grace were there, standing with a few of my dad’s deputies and talking quietly in the corner. I could see why Kimber was upset.
As we waited for the service to start I realized with a profound sadness that I’d never been to a funeral before. I wished that we’d had one for my sister but I knew we never could since Whitney was still legally alive. It made my heart break to think that she would never be laid to rest.
Only a few other funeral-goers trickled in and the Pastor began getting people seated for the service. I noticed the casket at the pulpit for the first time and was glad it was closed. Still, I had to wonder at the simple, unadorned, almost ugly coffin that had been chosen for Kimber’s mom. I knew the Destaros had money, quite a lot of it, actually. It was an interesting, almost insulting choice. My heart went out to Kimber.
As a somber music began to fill the room Kyle and I stood Kimber up and started over to the pews. Halfway there, she stopped. “I’m ready,” she said and brushed the hair away from her wet face.
“Ready for…?”
“To leave. I can’t be here anymore, it’s a disgrace to my mother.” Kimber raised her head a notch and squared her jaw. I knew this look - there would be no reasoning with her.
Kyle and I looked warily at each other. It would be a lot more obvious that Kimber was missing from the service with the low turnout.
“You guys go over and say what we rehearsed to my dad. Kyle, I will text you in 30 seconds. Go.”
Kyle nodded and started over and I knew we weren’t arguing. Mr. Destaro was finally standing, looking over at the front pew reserved for him and his daughter with an almost nervous hesitation.
