by Willow Rose
“What?”
He looks at me. “You’ve got to pick your battles,” he repeats. “Is it really worth getting so upset about? Is it worth starting a fight with Joey about?”
I gnarl. “Why are you always on Joey’s side, not mine?” I ask.
“Just trying to give you a piece of advice I wish someone would have given me before I had children. You can fight and argue over the smallest of things if you want, but that’s just going to make your life miserable. Think about it. This thing you’re arguing about, will it matter a year from now?”
I put the phone down and get up from my chair. I don’t want to hear anymore and I have to start dinner.
“It will if he doesn’t pass the FSA,” I say. “Then he won’t get into fifth grade next year, so yes, it does matter. I’d say it matters a lot.”
Chapter Thirty-Four
April 2016
Tom calls me Friday morning and we chat for an hour on the phone. I feel like a teenager, lying on my bed talking to him, flirting over the phone, but it is nice. He is nice. “So, when will I see you again?” I ask.
“We have one last game tomorrow afternoon, with the junior girls team, then it’s all over,” he says. “Maybe we should go out to dinner tomorrow night?”
“Yes,” I say, feeling my heart throb. I am already looking forward to seeing him again.
“So, what are you up to this weekend?” he asks.
“I’ll go to the rally tomorrow morning. Got to support our locals when they fight for the environment, right?”
“I know. It’s terrible with all those dead fish. I can’t believe they can’t even figure out why this is happening.”
“That’s what gets me infuriated as well,” I say. “I’m thinking about writing a piece about it for my blog. Maybe take some pictures at the rally.”
“Sounds like a great idea,” he says. “You are very powerful with that blog of yours. Maybe if the outside world hears about it, the politicians will finally step up and do something. This is sure to kill the tourism.”
It is time for Tom to go and we hang up. I catch myself smiling as I get out of bed. I look at the clock. It is almost ten. I can’t remember the last time I stayed in bed this long. I realize my dad hasn’t gotten his breakfast yet and get dressed real quick.
“I am so sorry, Dad,” I say, as I enter his room. He is not mad; he is smiling, as always.
“That’s okay, sweetie. I watched the most beautiful sunrise from my window and now I am watching TV,” he says, and lifts the remote with his fingers. It won’t be long before he’ll regain all the strength and mobility in his hands again, his physical therapist told me the day before, just before he left. I am thrilled to see the progress he is making.
“Tell you what? How about I make you some pancakes?” I say, to make up for my guilt. Plus, I am starving myself and really in the mood for pancakes.
“Sounds great, honey,” he says.
I whip together some batter and start to make the pancakes. My heart is hurting when my train of thoughts stops at Salter. I can’t believe he is being so defiant towards me. Am I losing him?
I don’t like the thought and replace it with something else. I try to imagine being Danny right now and feel bad for him. He still doesn’t know if he’ll be charged with anything, and if he is, he’ll lose his job. On top of it all, his daughter and her mother are missing. Where could they be? I wonder how people can just disappear like that. Being gone for six months and no one does anything? What about her friends?
I think about myself and know in my heart that people would start wondering after a few days if they hadn’t heard from me. That’s how tight our little crew and community are. Then I think about Sandra and the fact that I haven’t spoken to her in almost a week. It is strange, since I had just gotten used to having her in my life again, but it seems like she is avoiding me. Or maybe I am avoiding her. I really don’t feel like having to deal with her and Alex and their affair and betrayal of their spouses. I can’t take it. Not after all I am going through with Joey.
I finish making a stack of pancakes when someone knocks at the door.
“Come in,” I yell, while Snowflake is all over me because he can smell the pancakes. I let him out in the yard to do his business, while Chloe walks through the front door.
“Good morning,” she says. “Do I smell pancakes?”
Chapter Thirty-Five
April 2016
I set an extra plate on the patio table on the porch, get my dad out of bed and into his chair, then roll him outside. It’s one of those gorgeous spring mornings with no wind and the ocean is glassy. It’s already eighty-three degrees and the sun is shining directly at us, so I put up the umbrella.
“So, I took a look at the girl’s iPad,” Chloe says after her first pancake.
“And?” I ask, not getting my hopes up. It was a long shot; I know that very well. I really don’t know what I expected to find on her iPad. Maybe a new address or a message to one of her friends telling them she’d be moving, or just anything to indicate they didn’t just vanish, that it was somehow planned.
Chloe grabs another pancake, pours syrup on it, and takes a bite. She chews and swallows before she answers. “And I didn’t find anything about them moving or her talking about having to move or anything like that.”
I sigh and chew my pancake with Nutella. “I had a feeling you wouldn’t.”
“But I did find something else,” she says. “I went through all of her history and Tara was quite active both on Twitter and Instagram. And she played Minecraft a lot.”
I shrug. “So do most kids her age.”
“Sure. But there’s something else. She chatted with this guy, he calls himself Boxer, and he seems to be talking to her on all the platforms. He would comment on her pictures on Instagram, they were Skype friends and chatted in there, and in Minecraft and Twitter as well. She had a Facebook account, but never used it much. But it is strange how this guy seemed to appear everywhere, so I went to check on her chat history in Minecraft. The two of them started chatting two months ago, and after that it was every day.”
I shrug again. “So what? They were friends. Salter has a bunch of friends he only knows from social media or Minecraft. They play together and call each other on Skype or they use the chat to communicate and find each other in the different worlds.”
“I know, I know,” she says and takes another bite.
I watch my dad as he is struggling to reach his mouth with the fork. His hand is shaking, his fingers white with effort. I fight my urge to help him, since he has told me he wants to do it himself. It’s the only way he’ll get better at it. I know he is right. But it is so very painful to watch every time he misses; the disappointment on his face is crushing me.
“Have they been talking about anything creepy?” I ask. “Like is he a pedophile, is that why you wonder about him?”
“Not that I know of,” she says. “I mean, he does tell her he likes her, but it all seems very innocent. But what strikes me is the fact that he is the last person she wrote to. On October 23rd, in the early morning he wrote to her: We don’t have school today. Do you want to meet me in Roblox?” Chloe looks at me. “Roblox is another game very similar to Minecraft…”
“I know what Roblox is,” I say. “I have a ten-year-old, remember?”
“Right. Well, he asks her this, and then she writes: I can’t. Going to Target with my mom to buy new shoes. Maybe later?”
Chloe looks at me from above the iPad again.
“Is that it?” I ask.
She puts the iPad down on the table. “Yes.”
“That’s really not telling us much, is it?” I say.
Chloe sighs and leans back in her chair. I realize how much my dad’s new patio furniture has already rusted. Especially the legs. Good thing Chloe isn’t very big, or I would fear it might break. It’s amazing how fast things rust when you live on the ocean. All that salt in the air just eats right through it.
>
“I don’t know,” she says, resigned. “I just had an odd feeling about this guy, that’s all. It might be nothing. I guess I was just reaching for something. I feel so bad for Danny.”
“Yeah, me too,” I say, and reach for my third pancake. “I wish there was more we could do.”
Chapter Thirty-Six
April 2016
The sun hits him in the face and he blinks his eyes. Blake looks at his watch. The sun is right outside of his window at the Hilton where he rented a room. The hotel is right on the beach and Blake asked specifically for a room with a view, yet there is no balcony even though it overlooks the beach. Blake finds that to be very odd. He wants to sit out there at night looking over the ocean, a beer in his hand like he used to when he still lived with his father.
There is a knock on the door and Blake gets up to open it. Room service brings in his breakfast, and he digs in while thinking about his next move. He has been in Cocoa Beach for almost a week now and kept a close eye on his father’s house and especially on his sister. It still amazes him how close he can get to her without her knowing it. Twice he has been right behind her when she goes into Publix to buy her groceries and he walked just a few steps behind her all through the store. Of course, she probably wouldn’t recognize him even if she stared directly at him, now that he has shaved off his hair and grown a beard. But still it strikes him how very inattentive she is to her surroundings, how easy she makes it for him to get really close…and how easy it is going to be to hurt her.
Finishing his croissants and fresh fruit, Blake wipes his hands on the napkin, grabs his coffee cup, and walks to his new laptop that he just bought at the Apple store, using Olivia’s debit card, of course…the secret one that she created in her aunt’s name while she was still alive.
Blake touches his face and his beard. It feels strange. He hasn’t quite gotten used to the feel yet. The same goes for his reflection. He can hardly recognize himself anymore.
The computer starts up and Blake starts working the keyboard. He has been planning this for quite some time and working on perfecting it. He knows Mary is completely clueless when it comes to computers, but she has Chloe. Oh, yes. Chloe, who fell for Blake once.
It has taken him all these days to create the perfect weapon against his dear sister, but now he is ready to fire it. The only regret he has is that he won’t be there to see her face when it explodes.
You won’t know what hit you, dear sissy. But it ain’t over yet. This is just the beginning.
Blake sips his coffee while focusing intently on the computer screen. The coffee is too bitter. He walks to the remains of the breakfast table and grabs the sugar bowl, then pours a couple of teaspoons of sugar in his coffee, while watching his program unfold on the screen. Nothing but numbers to most people, but to Blake it is more beautiful than the sunrise. He drinks more coffee. It tastes better now. The numbers run over the screen and Blake feels a chill of joy in his stomach.
Almost there. Almost there.
He presses a few keys, writes some numbers and a code. The computer thinks for a few seconds, then more numbers appear before the final stage arrives. Blake looks at the screen, and then down at the return key, knowing all he now needs to do is press it and all hell will break loose.
Blake takes in the moment; he closes his eyes and pictures his sister’s face. He looks at the screen again. It’s a thing of beauty, isn’t it?
Then he leans over the keyboard, places his finger on the return key, and presses it.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
April 2016
Paige has to stay home from school because of the lice, and Nicky has no idea what to do with her while she attends to Mrs. Robbins in Melbourne. She can’t really bring her. It would be torture for everyone, and if Mrs. Robbins were to ask why Paige wasn’t in school today, Nicky would have to tell her the reason, and then she would definitely be fired for bringing lice into her house. Even though they had gone through all the treatment and there were no lice in Paige’s or Nicky’s hair this morning when she combed through them both. There is still the risk of re-infestation.
If you miss just one of those little bastards, you’ll have to do it all over again.
Nicky has thought of another solution for Paige today. One she won’t be too happy about. She has called Mr. Lee and asked him to come and teach Paige some math for a few hours.
She knows she’ll be very unpopular, so she hasn’t told Paige. Paige is in her room, playing on her computer when Mr. Lee arrives.
Nicky opens the door and Mr. Lee bows politely. “Good morning, Mrs. Stover,” he says with that cute accent. “How are you today?”
“I’m great. Thank you so much for coming on such short notice,” she says, and lets him inside of her house.
Nicky likes Mr. Lee a lot. He is probably the first man she has felt attracted to since she became a mother. It is strange, since she never used to like Asian people, but Mr. Lee is different. He is tall and muscular underneath the tight white shirt. And he has that handsome smile. He has told her he works as a math teacher at a private school in Viera.
“So you had no classes today?” she asks as they walk into the kitchen.
“No. Not today.”
“Guess I was really lucky then, huh?”
“Yes,” he says with a wide smile. “Very lucky.”
His smile warms her and she blushes. Nicky looks away, feeling silly. “There is coffee in the pot; I have made some snacks for later, some fruit and crackers, and there is lunch in the refrigerator. I hope to be back by one,” she says. “Will that be okay?”
He smiles and nods. “Yes. It’s just fine.” Mr. Lee then grabs her arm. She feels a warmth go through her body at his touch. “Don’t worry. Don’t stress,” he says. “It’s no problem at all.”
Nicky sighs happily. “You have no idea how glad I am to hear that.”
“Now, go. Do your job, make your clients happy. Paige is in good hands.”
“I know she is,” Nicky says and grabs her purse in her hand. She picks up her phone from the charger, then yells up the stairs:
“Paige. I’m leaving. Mr. Lee is here to do math with you.”
“Aw!” Paige groans from her room. She appears at the top of the stairs. “Do I have to?”
“Yes,” Nicky says and throws her a kiss.
“But I was doing something on the computer,” she continues.
“Don’t start arguing,” Nicky says. “I don’t have time for this.”
“You never have time. For anything anymore!” Paige yells.
“Don’t give me that,” Nicky says, feeling the pinch of guilt in her stomach. “You do what Mr. Lee tells you to, do you hear me?”
But Paige has already stormed into her bedroom and shut the door.
“I’ll take care of her,” he says. “Just go. We’ll be fine.”
Nicky draws in a deep breath. She looks into the eyes of Mr. Lee. He makes her feel safe. She knows Paige will be fine with him, even though she has to do math. He is good with her and makes her laugh.
“Thank you,” she says as the phone starts to ring in her purse. She picks it up. “I’m sorry,” she says. “It’s my client. I have to go. Call me if there is anything.” Nicky runs with the phone to her ear.
“Yes, Mrs. Robbins, no, I am on my way. Just caught in heavy traffic, that’s all. Be there in a few minutes…”
Nicky runs to the door. The last thing she sees before she closes it is Mr. Lee walking up the stairs towards Paige’s bedroom.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
April 2016
“So, I was planning on writing a piece about the fish-kill in the lagoon,” I say.
We’re done eating breakfast and Chloe is helping me clean up the kitchen. I have a tendency to make quite a mess when I cook.
“For the blog,” I continue.
She nods while putting a cup in the dishwasher. “That sounds like a good idea. And an important case. Very local, though. You need to
really have a good angle on it to make it interesting for your readers.”
“I know. I think I’ll go to the rally tomorrow, take some pictures for the post, and talk to some people. Get some info from the locals. I want to figure out who is to blame for all this.”
Chloe scoffs. “Don’t we all?”
“I know. I feel like something is off here, you know what I mean? There are so many theories out about it being because of people using too much fertilizer in their yards or pesticides, and then others believe it’s caused by the septic tanks leaking, some even blame it on the manatees. But, I’m asking, why now? These things have always happened around here; why are the fish being killed now? The other day I saw a picture from one of the canals where you couldn’t see the water for all the dead fish on the surface. It looked so creepy. We’ve never had this kind of fish-kill before. There must be something that has changed within the past few months.”
“I heard people say it might be pollution from that power plant up north. Take a look at that and you might find some answers,” Chloe says. “But I do agree. It does feel like someone is covering something up in this case. Something is off. If you can find out who, where, and what, then you have your story.”
I throw out the remains of my fifth pancake and feel sick to my stomach. I ate way too much again. I decide I just won’t have lunch today. That should even things out.
“I’ll try that,” I say.
“By the way, I’ve made some design changes to your blog,” Chloe says and walks to my computer. She taps on the keyboard while I continue to clean up. I wipe off the stove and put the last dish in the dishwasher.
“Our blog, Chloe. You’re as much a part of it as I am, if not more. I don’t think I pay you enough,” I say. “I mean, without you there would be no blog and no income from all those advertisers.”
I turn and look at Chloe when she doesn’t try and argue with me, which she always does when I try to give her money for her work. She is staring at the screen, eyes wide open, and her face pale.
