by Mira Gibson
As they took to the produce section - Hannah lost between the daunting task of what to make and how to figure ingredients accordingly while keeping an ear out for the good or bad news Cody was preparing to offer up; they were aghast at how crowded the supermarket was. Cody clipped more than a few heels maneuvering the cart, which garnished him some nasty glares from women and shrieking babies alike. But he kept up with her and only occasionally stared confusedly at her eclectic choices - strawberries, a can of plum tomatoes, microwavable popcorn, jellybeans, and a turkey large enough for Thanksgiving. At times she doubled back and removed an item in favor of another that made just as little sense. She tried to remember the word rhubarb, but her mind kept offering rutabaga. The thing didn’t look right, but she bought seven anyway, figuring there had to be a way to cook it.
Mary would know.
“So Gerrity left home a few months back,” Cody went on. “His folks couldn’t reach him, but they considered it for the best. He’d been in and out of rehab. No arrests though.”
“Meth?” she whispered so the grumbling old man blocking the chips wouldn’t hear.
Cody nodded. “They were able to list off for me his closest friends, granted if Dalton had been getting involved with seriously bad people I doubt he’d bring them home to meet Mommy and Daddy, but I got some names I’m looking into. Marjorie’s son being one of them.”
“Marjorie? Gemma’s Diner Marjorie?” she asked, thrown by what a small world it was, or town.
“Yeah. I put in a call to her, but she didn’t pick up. I bet she’s on her shift so I’ll swing by later.”
“Did you look into weapons? Did Gerrity have a gun?”
“If he did, it wasn’t registered. He certainly doesn’t have any medical training to do what was... done.”
“Right.”
“Another name on the list is Blake’s cousin-”
“Blake?”
“Marjorie’s kid," he clarified then went on. "Blake’s cousin Travis was the list. They’re both long time friends with Dalton according to his parents and get this, Travis’ folks used to have a place over on the Hermit Lake.”
Hannah stopped, her blood running cold. “Where?”
“I’m looking into it.”
“That’s it. That has to be where they're keeping her,” she said, excitedly. “Mary saw the guy on foot.”
“I know, I know, it sounds promising, but it’s more complicated than that.”
“Did you look into it?”
“I am. I’m going to check it out myself. According to the records I could get my hands on the house suffered a fire a good decade back. The family got the insurance, but never rebuilt. They leveled it. It’s not there.”
“But you haven’t gone there yet,” she stated.
“I sent a team over. And I’ll take a look around myself.”
Hannah sighed to release some tension. “Good. This is good. I have a good feeling about this.”
“Good.” He shot her an easy smile. “Better watch those hands, though.”
“Huh?”
“Lethal weapons,” he teased.
“Hey,” she joshed back. “If I hadn’t roughed the kid up we’d be spinning our wheels.”
“A method to her madness,” he mused with affection.
“Oh, shut up.”
“Let’s get you talking to all our leads. So long as they think you’re psycho this case is as good as solved.”
Hannah realized this was the first time she’d smiled in days and she was still smiling. “I’m taking that as a compliment.”
"You should." His smile waned then he eyed the cart. “I've got to tell you, I’m not seeing a meal here.”
She cringed, knowing how right he was. “I’m supposed to make lunch. Can you fix it?”
“I’m not a miracle worker.”
“You should come,” she concluded.
“To relinquish you of your cooking duties?”
“Because it makes sense. We have to bring Candice to Judy’s in a few hours anyway. You have to eat.”
He frowned as though he could get on board with that then assessed the contents of her shopping cart. “I feel like we should just get a new cart and start over.”
***
Dale balked when Cody arrived with Hannah, but had less of a leg to stand on since she’d come baring groceries. Mary kept him occupied with beers where they sat at an old picnic table Dale had foraged from the woods, while Candice took to her usual spot, sitting on the end of the dock.
Cody proved to be quite skilled in the kitchen. Under his directive, Hannah managed to put potato salad together, which didn’t at all appear the culinary disaster that was her bating average as of yet. And Cody made grinders better than any deli she’d ever set foot in. He also threw together Caesar salad and timed it all in the span of baking a blackberry pie.
In the kitchen, he found ways to stand near her and get her laughing, but never seemed intrusive and soon it was Hannah who intentionally brushed by him, indicating she was perhaps ready to admit what was in her heart.
By the time they carted lunch in all its splendor out to the picnic table, the tangerine sun was lighting the sky on fire. The lake shimmered the reflection, offering a breathtaking view despite the chilly temperature.
Mary helped dole out the grinders, getting them on paper plates and handing them around, as Dale faced the lake, staring off across the water and hauling on his beer at intervals.
“Candice!” Mary called out and when her sister remained Hannah told Mary she’d bring her sandwich over.
“Give me a minute,” she said to Cody, giving his arm a little squeeze. She knew he wouldn’t want to be alone with Dale for long, and curiously, Mary must have sensed it as well, because she rounded the table and took up where Hannah had left off, though Hannah hadn't gone two steps.
“Sit next to me,” she smiled up at him, pressing her chest into his side and exaggerating her limp.
Dale turned to glare at him.
“Why don’t you all sit,” Hannah suggested, as she walked off towards the dock with Candice’s grinder.
She heard Cody let out a nervous laugh and Mary giggled like they were sharing an intimate moment then Dale cleared his throat. When Hannah looked over her shoulder at them Mary had positioned herself up close to Dale, which relieved her until she processed their body language. It was familiar, Dale’s arm wrapped along her back, hand hooked around her hip, giving her pats, as he knocked back his beer. Then Mary fed him a mushroom plucked from her grinder. He used a bit too much tongue to suck it in.
Witnessing their exchange had her stomach knotted up good by the time she sat beside Candice.
“Here,” she said, kindly passing the plate to her sister.
She took it easily enough, but seemed more interested in the water, slapping the sole of boot a few taps against its surface and watching the thick ripples band outward.
“How are you doing?” she asked her. “If you’re scared that’s understandable.”
Candice looked up at her, blue eyes reflecting the lake and trees with eerie clarity.
“That’s why we’re bringing you to see Judy again after lunch, so you can talk about it. Does that sound good?”
She stared, not vacantly but as if piercing through Hannah’s pretense and peering into the most secret corners of her mind.
“What’s wrong, Candice? You can tell me. You can tell me anything.”
She held her gaze a bit longer then glanced out across the water just as Mary was cackling her loud laugh. Hannah looked over her shoulder at Mary who was tossing her head forward, bleached blond hair landing in potato salad, arm draped around Dale, the presumed source of hilarity. Cody looked lost.
“We’re going to find Mom, Candice. You have to believe that.”
Then, thin as a thread, perhaps meant only for herself, Candice said, “Mary is Mom.”
Hannah stared at her.
The child had to be confused. Or was she intuitiv
e? Hannah glanced back at the picnic table, but Mary was getting to her feet, collecting paper plates, while Dale looked after her, those hungry eyes he couldn’t help. Maybe that’s what she was picking up on.
“Mary’s not Mom, honey,” she said then thought better of it. “Why do you think that?”
But Candice didn’t respond. She was somewhere out on the water.
Hannah gazed out as well, inspired to venture far away from this family if only in her mind. Funny how a person could avoid revelations. Soon she was fantasizing about letting herself fall into the water, submerging head to toe, feeling its icy burn all over, surging through the surface, reborn. When she came back to her senses, Candice had eaten the better part of her grinder.
“Let’s get you to Judy’s. Don’t want to be late.”
***
Dressed like a used car salesman and acting twice as pushy, Judy ushered Hannah and Cody into her office, closed the door, and frowned at their reluctance to sit voluntarily on her vomit stained couch.
Hannah chose her spot carefully, just left of center, and Cody wedged in beside her, as Judy waited fervently and bristling with energy. When they got situated she leaned her rump on her desk and eyed Hannah with as much electricity as a 100 watt bulb would require.
“Has Candice been talking at home?” she asked eagerly.
“Ah, not really.”
She glanced at the girl, who was stacking blocks as though she’d regressed by at least eight years in Judy’s care.
“Hmmm,” she pondered, eyes widening.
“Did she talk with you?” Hannah asked, hopeful.
“She did.”
Hannah wondered why the woman wouldn’t get on with it. “And?”
Judy filled her lungs then held her breath, eyeing Candice. “I’m stumped she hasn’t opened up at home,” she said, detouring from whatever discovery had her chomping at the bit earlier. Judy shrugged, brows rising to acquiesce. “Then again, if she’s not nurtured at home..."
Hannah tried not to take offense to that, but it stung given she’d been home for days and was therefore partially responsible.
“What I’m about to tell you,” she went on, “it’s very important you don’t push her on this or try to pull the details out of her. I’ve only scratched the surface with Candice and I need time.”
When Hannah seemed in agreement, she got down to it.
“Candice told me she’d seen her mother’s abductors in the house before.”
“When? Who else was home?” Hannah started rattling off questions, Judy’s instructions having flown from her head. “Did she say what they looked like?”
Judy narrowed her gaze on her and gave Hannah a moment to remove her foot from her mouth.
“I can work in that direction when I see her next,” Judy offered.
“Great. Let’s get her in tomorrow.”
“I suggest a day off,” she countered. “Give her time to process what occurred today. I can see her the day after next.”
“Fine,” said Hannah urgent to lock in the appointment. “How’s she doing in terms of Mary?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Mary, her sister. She got shot the other night.”
Judy looked shocked. “Oh my God. Is she alright?”
“All things considered,” she stated. “It only grazed her.” Hannah caught the peculiarity. “She didn’t mention it at all?”
“No, Candice seemed in good spirits and felt relaxed and comfortable enough to share with me what she did.”
Hannah checked in with Cody on a quick glance and he found it equally puzzling.
“Is there anything else we should know?” he asked. “Anything else come up?”
Judy frowned and shook her head. “Shall we set that appointment?”
Hannah made arrangements with her, while Cody hung back. Then she collected Candice from the blocks and escorted her through the door, overhearing Judy ask Cody about the billing, which he hushed her on immediately.
In the lobby, she helped Candice get into her coat and zipped it up, and soon Cody came out from the office, rounded the ever-empty receptionist's desk, and joined them.
“So when am I getting a bill?”
Like a deer in headlights, Cody froze.
“I’ve obviously got this,” she said.
“It’s fine. It’s on my department.” He motioned for the door, but she wouldn’t let him brush over this so easily.
“No, it's not on your department. That’s not how it works. I know how it works. Remember? I do this for a living.” She studied him. “Why are you paying for Candice’s therapy?”
“Because it was my idea and I can afford it.”
“I can swing it, Cody. I don’t need you to step in like this.”
“You’re dealing with enough,” he told her, keeping his tone low for Candice’s benefit.
She considered it then shook her head. “No, I’m sorry. It makes me really uncomfortable.”
He turned pink then beat red. “Then you’re really not going to like the other thing I did.”
“What did you do, Cody?”
He went into manic groveling. “With Mary in the hospital-”
“You didn’t-”
“And Dale hating my guts. I just wanted to help-”
“You did not pay that bill.”
“I have savings and I’m more than just afloat-”
“I can’t believe you. That’s insane. It had to have been thousands.”
“Hannah.” He swallowed hard, composing himself. “I hate it that we lost touch. I hate it that it was my fault. I can’t stand all the shit you’re going through. I know what it feels like not to be able to do a damn thing while things fall apart all around you. It’s done. I paid the hospital. I’m paying Judy. It’s done.”
And that’s when the dam broke. She was in him, lips brushing then pressing into his, as the wall she’d built to keep him out of her heart came crashing down. His lips were warm and his breath was cool and the smell of him felt more like home than any place she’d ever lived. Cody cradled the nape of her neck, guiding their kiss deeper, as his tongue played softly between her lips.
She felt hungry to step in closer, wrap her arms around him, let him envelop her, carry her away, but instead she gently urged him back, hand to his chest, relishing how strong he felt against her palm.
That night when she collected her bag from Mary’s room and stole away into a bathroom that had no locks, Hannah riffled through her crap in search of the gun Cody had provided, visions of staying alive at the forefront of her mind.
But it wasn’t there.
Her revolver was missing.
Chapter Twelve
Dale had been stewing for days. It was bad enough Hannah had let that sniveling son of a bitch into her life after he’d reduced her to a ball of tears, but he thought he could just waltz in here, pay off Mary’s medical bill like he was the second coming of Christ, and expect him to bow down, kiss his feet, and be grateful? Dale knocked back the warm dregs of his Coors, as scenarios of what he’d like to do to that man wormed their way through his mind.
Candice’s TV show had him distracted, though, and the five beers he’d consumed to take the edge off had his ideas a tad slippery. Following the mental momentum of catchy comebacks and solid right hooks was more exertion than inspiration. A laugh track blared from the TV set underscoring Charlie Sheen’s particular brand of degradation against his duck-face brother. Dale located the remote between the sofa cushions and hit the mute button, which sent the girls into an uproar.
“We’re listening to that!” Mary balked, hot on the heels of Candice’s complaining whines.
Defeated, he pressed mute so they could listen to their story while they did whatever the hell they were doing over there in the kitchen. Giant oven mitts concealed Candice’s hands and Mary had done the girl’s hair up in a high bun so strands wouldn’t fall into the - oatmeal? Oatmeal cookies? Smelled like oatmeal, but he couldn’t come u
p with any other meal that called for oats.
The shower had been running for a good long while.
“Anyone tell your sister to make it quick in there? Hot water doesn’t grow on trees.”
Mary wiped flour from her hands onto the apron she wore and started up the hall to address his gripe.
“Grab a fresh one on your way back?”
Candice hopped over, dainty puffs of flour billowing out as she clapped her mitts along the way. She sat and a cloud of it kicked up around her.
“Hey, girl.” He shook his empty at her and she tossed her mitts, took it, crushed it on the floor with her Keds so the thing would curve around her shoe then she took to hobbling around like an invalid. It wasn’t even in the ballpark of what he’d meant. “Why don’t you limp on into the kitchen, bring a beer on back for Daddy?”
She worked her way over, rising and pattering down in a strange rhythm that resembled her sister’s new gait. When she returned she had the remainder of his six-pack - two cold ones dangling from plastic rings. He tried to free one.
“Hold it firm now.”
She flexed her arm, trying hard, and he jerked it loose.
As he cracked the can open, she plopped down, crossed her legs, beer droplets rattling around in that can on her foot. The sofa had another stain coming to it.
“What do you make of all this?”
She stared at her show, the humor in Sheen’s sexual prowess lost on her.
Finally, the shower dried up and he momentarily wondered what the hell had taken so long. Maybe Mary had been spying Hannah. Had she jumped in, joined her sister?
Then he glanced at Candice, telling her, “You need to loosen up, take a load off. Forget the past maybe.” She didn’t glance over, but didn’t recoil, which he took as an invitation. “Ever sneak one of Daddy’s sodas?”
“No.”
He shifted, inched in on her close enough to smell her hair through the dull scent of flour dusted across her cheek, and edged his beer towards her leg.
