It’s not surprising Tess remembers Angela as this perfect person. Angela Wong could be as bright as the sun, and when she shined her light on you, nothing could make you feel more special, more important, more valued. But when she withheld it, which she often did over petty things, it could cast you into darkness. There was no in-between. Angela felt everything fully, and if you were close to her, you felt everything she felt.
The only other person who could possibly understand this was Kaiser. He’s the only person who loved Angela the same way she did, who felt the loss of her the same way she did. But unlike Geo, he didn’t find out until years later what happened to her. He was almost driven mad by the not knowing.
Geo was driven mad by the knowing.
She must have fallen asleep on the sofa, because when the doorbell rings and wakes her up, a full hour has passed. She answers the door, still wrapped in the blanket. It’s Kaiser, and he looks about as exhausted as she feels. He’s wearing his badge, which means he’s on duty.
“Come in,” she says, moving aside so he can enter.
“I should have called first,” he says, closing the door behind him. “I was in the area, doing some follow-up work in the woods. Saw your car.”
“Anything new?”
He shakes his head, frustration etched on his face. “No. Nothing. The lead we had on Calvin didn’t pan out. I feel like I’m missing something obvious, and it’s driving me crazy. Something I can’t see, that’s right in front of me.”
Geo is standing in front of him. She looks up, and their eyes meet. He’s wearing the same cologne, the one that’s mildly spicy-sweet, and again, it makes her hyperaware of how long it’s been since she’s made love to someone. Prison sex doesn’t count.
“I’m glad to see you,” she says, and she is. “I wish…”
“What?”
“Nothing.” She takes a seat on the sofa, lets the blanket slide off her shoulders. She’s wearing a T-shirt and sweatpants, her go-to outfit now that she has nowhere special to be. He takes a seat on the other end, watching her.
“There’s something I was going to tell you the other day,” Kaiser says. “About the double homicide I’m working. About the little boy.”
“I remember. What is it?”
“The boy is—was—the female victim’s son.”
Geo frowns. “I don’t understand. I saw his parents on the news. They were giving a press conference about it. His mother was grieving, but she’s alive.”
“She’s his adoptive mother. The woman the boy was found with, she was his biological mother.”
A long silence falls between them as Geo processes this, and she becomes acutely aware of the different compartments inside her, each reacting differently to this revelation. The compartments bang against each other like metal on metal, screeching and clanking and noisy, although outwardly, she shows no sign of the turmoil she’s feeling inside.
“That’s not all,” Kaiser says. “The biological father is Calvin James.”
The clanking inside her stops. Inwardly and outwardly, Geo is still.
“I didn’t tell you earlier because we’re not releasing any of this to the press, not until we know for sure what it means,” Kaiser says. “I haven’t even told the Bowens, the little boy’s parents. And I won’t, until we have proof Calvin killed them.”
“Why are you telling me?” she asks.
“Because I don’t know who else to tell,” he says. “You’re the only person I know who knew Calvin intimately, and is still alive.”
She closes her eyes, lets out a long breath, then opens them again. “So what is it you want to know? Whether or not I think Calvin is capable of killing his own child?”
“You don’t think that’s possible?” Kaiser’s eyes never leave her face. “You knew him better than anyone. You’ve seen firsthand what he’s capable of. Nineteen years is plenty of time to grow into a monster.”
Geo lets out a laugh, but there’s not a speck of humor in it. “Oh, Kai. Calvin didn’t grow into a monster. Calvin was always a monster. I just didn’t see it back then.”
She’s never felt so small, so alone. She doesn’t remember feeling this way in prison, surrounded by the chatter, the voices of women, the presence of other people who were stuck in that box with her. She understood that it was her place to be there, and for five years, she made it work because she had to. There was comfort in always knowing where the walls were. She felt safe—not at first, maybe, but eventually. Here, untethered, unanchored, she is terrified.
She says none of this to Kaiser, but he seems to sense her thoughts. He reaches for her hand, his palm warm and pressing gently, his face full of compassion. It’s taken her a while, but she can once again see the boy she used to know, the one who had loved her with his whole heart just the way she was, and who expected nothing in return but her friendship, although he’d made it clear once that he wished for more.
Before she can stop herself, she leans over and kisses him.
Startled, he tries to back away, but the arm of the sofa is blocking him and there’s nowhere for him to go unless he stands up. But he doesn’t stand up. Instead, he kisses her back, forcefully and urgently, one hand in her hair, the other cupping her face, and it feels like it did the night of Chad Fenton’s party, when they were alone in the laundry room. Had Geo made a different choice that night—had she said yes to Kaiser instead of pushing him away—none of what happened afterward would have transpired. She might not have gone to Calvin’s, and Angela might still be alive.
Kaiser kisses her mouth, her neck, the soft spot behind her ears, and then her lips again. She responds, pressing against him, unable to get close enough. Her hand slips under his shirt, undoing his belt. His hand is fumbling with her bra, and then her shirt is off, the bra along with it, and his mouth finds her nipples. She’s so aroused that it almost hurts. Every inch of her wants every part of him.
His kisses are a hair shy of rough. His hands move everywhere, and then, impatient, he stands her up, yanking her sweatpants down to the floor. The living room window is right there, but she doesn’t care. Fuck the neighbors, let them see. He buries his face in the crotch of her panties, and a guttural groan escapes her lips. Then he slips a hand inside. It feels so good, she almost orgasms right then.
After a moment, she forces herself to pull back. She has to be sure that he’s sure. She doesn’t want to trick him. She’s tired of deceiving people, of trying to pretend she’s someone she isn’t. Of trying to pretend she’s good.
“You know I’m not a good person, right?” she says. “I need to make sure you know that, before we do anything, before it goes any further. I’ve hurt people, Kai. I’ve done terrible things.”
“I know,” Kaiser says. “I know. But you’re all I can see, Georgina. You’re all I could ever see.”
* * *
They’re upstairs, in her childhood bedroom, and the door is closed, even though they’re alone in the house. The afternoon sun is bright, spilling into the bedroom in pink beams through the sheer lace curtains. There are no window blinds to close. Everything is lit up, everything is exposed.
She lies on the bed as he tugs her panties off, taking his time sliding them over her hips and then over her thighs and ankles, making her wait. The rest of her is already undressed. He pauses, his eyes feasting on her nakedness. She allows her legs to fall open slightly, letting him see everything he wants to see, baring it all. For once.
His face is flushed with arousal, and then he smiles. It’s not a love smile. It’s a smile of genuine amusement, and the sight of it alarms her.
“What’s the matter?” she asks, propping herself up on her elbows, suddenly anxious. “Do I not look how you thought?”
Kaiser’s grin widens. “No. That’s the thing. You look better. But it occured to me that if this had happened at sixteen—and you have no idea how much I wished it would—I’d have come in my pants already.”
Relieved, she laughs. “It’s okay if yo
u do.”
“Fuck that,” he says. “I’m a grown-up now, Georgina. Let me show you.”
He pulls off his shirt, then his jeans, then his boxer briefs. He doesn’t look anything like how she thought, but then, she had never really thought about it back then. He had no expectations to meet. Nevertheless, he is beautiful. He’s hard, and he’s ready.
Kaiser enters her, slowly but not gently, and she is transported.
24
An hour after he leaves, his smell is still on the sheets, and Geo sinks into them. The first prickles of self-doubt are beginning to creep in. She’s an ex-con; Kaiser’s a cop. How can this be anything more than what it was? An afternoon sex romp. He probably doesn’t even see her as anyone other than the girl he could never have in high school. Now that it’s out of his system, she’ll probably never hear from him again. Cops have a hero complex, don’t they? They need someone to save. Or, in Geo’s case, redeem.
Except … it doesn’t feel that way for her. Being with Kaiser makes her feel like she’s exactly where she’s supposed to be. And she hasn’t felt that way since Angela died.
Rolling over, she reaches into the bottom drawer of her nightstand and pulls out the empty Mason jar. She sets it on the table, staring at the flecks of sunlight that hit it at different angles. Remembering.
The night of the murder, she didn’t get back to her house until four o’clock in the morning. Her dad was working an overnight, and nobody was home. Every single house in the neighborhood was dark, and there were no streetlights. She hadn’t been able to look at Calvin, the both of them covered in dirt and blood, his hands raw from all the shoveling. His Trans Am’s interior light flicked on when he opened his car door, a soft repetitive beep emanating from the dashboard because the keys were in the ignition.
“Georgina—” he said, but she turned away before he could finish.
She let herself in the house and dragged herself up the stairs, every muscle in her body feeling like it had been run over by a truck. Her stomach still felt queasy from the alcohol, and now that the panic-induced adrenaline was fading, she couldn’t stop shaking. She was so cold. Her little dress, which seemed like the right choice for Chad’s party, seemed utterly silly now. It was covered with dirt, grass, bits of bark and leaves … and blood. So much blood. She peeled it off in the bathroom, letting it drop onto the bathmat. With the faucet cranked as hot as it would go, she stepped into the near-scalding spray, as if the water could somehow wash away the horrible thing she and Calvin had done.
Because yes, this was her fault as much as Calvin’s. He was right. She had brought Angela to him.
The dirt and dried blood from her hands rinsed onto the bathtub floor in dark-brown streaks. The dirt they’d thrown over Angela’s body. Over Angela’s face.
How could she have let this happen? She knew Calvin was violent. He’d been violent with her, and she’d seen him threaten other guys in bars. She’d seen the way he was looking at Angela all night, simultaneously disgusted and turned-on by her lascivious behavior.
Her boyfriend had raped her best friend. Maybe Angela had gone too far with the dancing and the flirting, and maybe she’d even kissed him—Geo didn’t know, she was passed out drunk, she had no way of knowing how it started. But she sure as shit knew how it ended. At some point, Angela wanted it to stop. She said no. Geo had seen her mouth form the word from across the room. There was no way Calvin didn’t hear it. And Geo had done nothing to help her.
She stayed in the shower until the water began to cool. Back in her room, she changed into sweats and buried herself under the covers.
Somehow, she fell asleep, waking the next morning to the sound of the phone ringing. She opened a bleary eye to where the cordless phone sat on her night table, and saw Angela’s home number on the call display. Automatically, she reached for the phone, and then her hand froze. Because it couldn’t be Angela calling.
Angela is dead.
She sat up, watching the phone ring, and then ring some more. The call display flashed. Outside, her dad was home, mowing the lawn, and in an hour he would come upstairs, have a shower, and try and sleep for a few hours. That’s what he did after an overnight on Friday.
The entire world was continuing on like normal, except for one thing.
Angela is dead.
She picked up the receiver slowly. “Hello?”
“Georgina? It’s Candace Wong.” Angela’s mother’s voice was brisk. “Sorry if I woke you, honey. Can I speak to Angie?”
“She’s…” Geo swallowed. “She’s not here, Mrs. Wong.”
“Oh?” The woman paused. “I assumed she was with still with you, since she stayed over last night.”
Geo took a breath. She had to tell her. She had to tell Mrs. Wong what happened, that Angela was dead. How she could not tell her?
Mrs. Wong misread her hesitation. “You can tell me, dear. She should have called us last night, once she got to your place. Victor was up playing poker until two A.M. You think he would have noticed his only daughter didn’t come home.” She sounded cross, but not at Angela.
Candace Wong would never be cross with her daughter again.
Geo’s heart was pounding, and so was her head. Her stomach felt like she swallowed something horribly acidic. It was churning, sending a rippling, burning pain throughout her abdomen.
“I … actually, she didn’t stay over last night. I last saw her at Chad’s.”
She closed her eyes. She had just told the first—and most significant—lie that she would ever tell.
“Chad Fenton?” Mrs. Wong said. “Oh right, she did say something about a party last night. You girls didn’t leave together? You weren’t with Kaiser?”
Tell her. Tell her now. We did leave together, but neither of us went home.…
“No, she … we…” Geo took a breath, her thoughts spinning. “I left early, I wasn’t feeling well. I walked home. Angela and Kai were still at the party when I left.” The words were falling out of her mouth, and she couldn’t stop them.
“Her car must still be at Chad’s, then.” Mrs. Wong sounded pissed off. “Honestly, Georgina, I wasn’t too happy when her father bought her that car. She’s spoiled enough as it is. Were you girls drinking last night?”
We were drinking. I ate the fruit. I got drunk. I passed out.
“A little.”
A sigh on the other end of the line. “Well, there’s no point in lecturing you on underage drinking, that’s your father’s job. At least you girls had the good sense not to get behind the wheel of a car, but Angie is so grounded when she gets home. She’s in big trouble now.”
Yes, she is, Mrs. Wong. The worst kind. She’s never coming home. Ever.
“I play tennis with Chad’s mother,” Mrs. Wong said, her voice dropping conspiratorially. “Rosemarie’s a bit of a flake, and I know her husband’s an alcoholic. They keep their damn liquor cabinet unlocked, and I know the older son—the dropout—drinks, too. I’ll give her a call.” Another sigh, impatient this time. “In the meantime, Georgina, can you call around a bit? You’d know better than me where she’s likely to have ended up. If you talk to her, tell her to get her butt home. I’m going to call Kaiser’s house next, but if she spent the night at a boy’s house, she’s in big trouble.”
She’s in the woods, Mrs. Wong, buried in the dirt.…
Geo squeezed her eyes shut. She had to tell the truth. It was the very least she could do, and this was her opportunity to come clean, before she told any more lies, before they found out the horrible thing that happened.
It was now or never.
Fucking tell her!
But the words wouldn’t come. Instead, Geo heard herself say, “I can call around. If I catch up with her, I’ll tell her to call home.”
Whoever said lying was hard was so, so wrong. Lying was easy. Lying was like a hot knife slicing through room-temperature butter. Lying was a bunch of words strung together in a pretty sentence designed to make the other person feel like e
verything was fine.
Telling the truth, however, was impossible.
They said their good-byes and hung up. Geo’s leather Day-Timer, containing the phone numbers of all her friends, was sitting on her nightstand. She would have to call them all, ask if they’d seen or heard from Angela, ask if they knew where she might be.
Because that’s what liars did. They lied. And then they lied some more to protect those lies.
She got up off the bed, looking down when she felt something small and pebblelike underneath her foot. It was a cinnamon heart candy, an escapee from the near-empty jar on her bedside table. The gift from Calvin. Looking down, it resembled a little splotch of blood on the cream-colored carpet.
Her stomach turned. She was not going to make it to the bathroom. She reached for her small trash can and threw up into it, heaving painfully, as there wasn’t much left in her stomach after vomiting the night before. Clutching the can, she made her way down the hall to the bathroom. She was horrified to find her dress on the bathmat, lying in a crumpled heap where she’d left it. She snatched it up. Through the bathroom window, she could hear the lawn mower still going strong. Her dad was doing the backyard now. He’d be out there for another twenty minutes.
She stuffed the dress and bathmat into the trash can, on top of the vomit, and headed downstairs to the kitchen, making a beeline for the door to the garage. The cement floor was cold and dusty under her bare feet as she stuffed the trash can into the larger blue bin, piling other garbage bags on top of it. Then she headed back to her room to call her friends, exactly as she’d promised Candace Wong she would do.
It wasn’t like she had made one monstrous decision to lie. It was a series of small decisions and a series of small lies, but together, they were growing into a mountain.
The police rang the doorbell shortly after dinner. Geo’s knees went weak at the sight of the two uniformed officers. She led them into the living room to where her father was finishing up the pizza they’d ordered. Walter knew Angela’s mother had called earlier and was concerned, but he also knew his daughter’s best friend had a reputation for being a bit of a party girl. His theory was that Angela had met a boy she hadn’t told her parents about, and Geo hadn’t said anything to the contrary.
Jar of Hearts Page 21
