Boiling Over

by Thea McAlistair

  I nodded in what I hoped looked like a sympathetic manner. Money and Walter Trask kept coming up together, though this was the first I’d heard anything about him wanting to give it away. Richard might have been lying, but if he’d made up Walter’s attempt at charity, why bother saying anything at all? Like he’d said, I was a stranger and didn’t have any business nosing around his family life.

  “Did he say why he wanted to give you the money now?”

  “No, I didn’t give him the chance. Kind of kicking myself about it now. Might’ve included me in his will or something if I’d been a little nicer.”

  “Do you know who the current beneficiary is?”

  “Nope. No one here does that sort of fancy legal stuff; he had to go out to Burlington to get it done. It’s all locked up with his lawyer there. I suppose the stuffed shirt’ll be down on Monday to tell us what it said.”

  So, I’d have to convince the lawyer to talk to me. If he wouldn’t, I’d have to wait until after Walter’s funeral and see what kind of ripples the reading made, and that would be days, maybe even a week or longer. What would happen to Bella in the meantime? I couldn’t risk the wait.

  “You have to have some idea,” I insisted.

  “I just said we didn’t talk. What makes you think I’d know?”

  “Well, you said he wanted to give you money. Did he mention anyone else he thought of giving it to? Or why?”

  Richard squirmed, and the flask went to his lips. In the movement, I saw both my father and Pearl’s father—the action of a selfish man who didn’t care about family, didn’t care about anything beyond where to get the next drink.

  I pulled his hand down. “Maybe look at me when I’m talking to you?”

  He ripped his arm away from me, and before I processed what he was doing, his other arm swung around. His fist connected with my temple, sending sparks across my eyes. The blow didn’t hurt so much as it was a shock. It shook loose memories I’d buried after my dad died of knuckles against flesh more times than I could count. But this time, oh, this time, I was a grown man, and I had no fear of Richard Trask. With one well-placed hit, I sent him sprawling onto the floor with a bloody nose. He screamed a curse at me as he clutched at his face. The flask of whiskey glugged its contents onto some books knocked over in his tumble.

  Shit.

  I bolted. Arthur Parrish’s confused face appeared in the doorway, but I ran past. I burst outside, my heart thumping too fast. My altercation was going to be the talk around town in a matter of hours, and God knew what kind of consequences that would bring. Maybe arrest. Maybe someone would put some more pieces together and call the Westwick cops on us. And with Bella in jail and sundered from her network, there would be no hiding this time.

  I paused. The commotion hadn’t followed me, and the residents of Chickadee didn’t seem too interested in me despite my clearly frantic state. I didn’t want to take more chances. I slid my jacket on and walked as quickly as I dared back to the house. With every step, my heart tightened; I was going to have to tell Sev what I’d done.

  Chapter Ten

  I closed the door to the house too forcefully, and it rattled in the frame.

  “Alex?” Sev’s voice floated from the kitchen.

  “Yeah.”

  “Good. I’m glad you’re home.” He stepped into the hall and came toward me. Car keys dangled from his hand. “I need to go out, and I didn’t know how you felt about having Fran babysi— Are you all right? You’re red again.”

  I rubbed at my eyes. This was going to be so difficult. “I’m fine.”

  “I don’t think so.” He squinted at me and brushed hair away from my temple. I winced as his fingers touched the sore spot. “What’s this red mark?”

  “I got hit.” I pushed him off me. “Here’s the thing—”

  “I thought you were going to the library. How did your face get hit?”

  “I’m trying to goddamn tell you, okay?” I was so anxious to get it over with, the words spilled out. “I went to the library to find Walter Trask’s brother, Richard. And we were talking, and I must have said something that upset him because he punched me.”

  “Alex—”

  “And I punched him back, and I think I broke his nose, and Arthur Parrish saw me do it but not Richard punching me, so I don’t know if anyone can vouch I was defending myself. But Richard Trask has a reputation for being a nuisance, so maybe Arthur will assume he started it, but I don’t know, and I don’t know if either of them are going to call Sheriff Kelly and—”

  “Enough! Basta, calmati.” Sev sighed and ran a hand over his hair. “Well, if he has a reputation, I’m sure if someone calls the police, they will take your side. But Alex, you have to learn to control your temper better. It’s going to get us in trouble, and we cannot get into any more trouble. One call and—”

  “I know. I know! I’m sorry. But it’s fine. Right? It’s fine. It’s fine, and I will take care of it.” I couldn’t look him in the eye, so I looked down. My gaze caught on his keys again. “Maybe you should go; go do whatever you were doing, so if the police come, you’re not in their sights. Where were you going, anyway?”

  He collected the keys into his fist like he had been caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to do. “I’ll be back in a half hour, an hour at most.”

  Where could he possibly be going? It wasn’t like there was anything of worth within a half-hour drive, and we didn’t know anyone nearby. “Come on, seriously.”

  “It’s not like I’m going carousing. I’m going to the mission.”

  What? “It’s Saturday, you know. Church is on Sundays.”

  “Yes, I know,” he snapped. He took a breath. “I’m going to confession,” he murmured. “I—”

  “What! After what you said to me about watching our backs, you want to tell someone what we did?”

  He lowered his voice and motioned for me to keep my own down. “It’s not to the police; it’s to a priest. It’s something Catholics do so God can forgive us. You do penance to make up for things. You pay for your sins.”

  Right. Something in my memory flickered about having learned about that once and tossed it aside as something unimportant. While I tried to track the recollection down, I almost missed the rest of Sev’s insistent whispering.

  “Before I met you. And then I couldn’t with everything happening so fast, so this is the first chance I’ve gotten since I killed…”

  Since he’d killed Emma Carlisle.

  We both stood in silence for a moment. Yes, he’d killed her, but he’d done it to defend me. She’d been a murderer even if her father had pulled the trigger. She’d killed Donnie and Martin and Bella’s husband and others. As far as I was concerned, there was nothing to feel sorry over.

  “I hope to God you never know this guilt,” he continued quietly. “I—”

  “But you can’t tell them,” I hissed. “They’ll get the cops.”

  “They can’t tell though,” he insisted. “It’s forbidden.”

  “Right, you expect me to believe that?”

  Sev crossed his arms. “Well, you should because it’s true.”

  “Fine. It’s true. But they wouldn’t even have to say anything. Just make a couple vague statements. ‘Huh, I heard you had a bunch of murders down there and are looking for the culprit. Did you ever think of visiting Vermont in the summer? It’s beautiful. Maybe you’ll find something.’”

  “Stop. You don’t understand.”

  “You’re right. I don’t understand. So maybe you should explain to me why you have to go tell a stranger you killed someone?”

  “Hush, Pearl is right in the kitchen.” He closed his eyes for a second, gathering his thoughts. Somehow that annoyed me more than if he’d started getting louder with me. “You tell them your sins,” he said slowly, patiently. With infuriating kindness. “There’s that, and there’s you, and—”

  “Wait, wait, wait. How did I start figuring into this?”

  Crimson spread
across his cheeks. “It’s not you, specifically.” To my twisted delight, he finally seemed to be getting flustered. He lowered his voice even more. “It’s the sex. We’re not supposed to—”

  “Are you saying you feel guilty about me?”

  “No! No, that’s not it at all! I love you. It’s just—”

  “What a fantastic religion you’ve got there. You have to beg forgiveness for loving.”

  His eyes narrowed, and I knew I’d crossed a line I hadn’t been aware was there. Face livid, he opened his mouth. But instead of shouting, he simply said, “I’ll be back in about an hour.”

  He swept past me. I chased him for a few steps, the urge to have a fight carrying me forward. He yanked open the door and left it ajar as he hurried down the porch stairs, the keys in his hand jingling with discordant cheerfulness.

  “Sev get back here!” I shouted.

  He turned partially, and I glimpsed the poisonous look on his face before he continued to the car. It was only when he reached it that I realized Crista was standing shocked and hesitant at the end of our front walk. I groaned. Exactly what I didn’t need. She flinched as Sev slammed the car door and shied away from the drive as he backed out too quickly.

  “Should I come back later?” she asked.

  As much as I wanted to tell her to go to hell, I needed her help to get something edible on the table at a reasonable supper hour. Undoubtedly, Pearl was very sick of boiled eggs.

  “No, you’re fine. Come on in,” I grumbled as I stepped out of the doorway. I began walking down the hall. “Pearl, Crista is here!”

  No answer. Odd. It wasn’t like she couldn’t hear me. It wasn’t a big house. I stepped into the kitchen. To my surprise, there was no Pearl, only Daisy wandering the counters. She couldn’t have gone upstairs without me seeing. She must have gone outside. I marched to the back door and swung it open. Not on the back porch either. I scanned the yard. Still nothing.

  “Pearl!” I yelled as I stepped off the porch.

  A scratching noise near my feet gave me pause. I crouched to peek into the crawlspace under the porch. Sure enough, Pearl was huddled against the foundation. She watched me warily.

  “What are you doing down there?” I demanded.

  She whimpered and pressed her back against the wall.

  “Pearl, get out of there.” My voice sounded rough on the command, and with a sinking feeling, I realized she was hiding from me.

  “Look, Pearl,” I said reassuringly, “just because I’m mad doesn’t mean I’m going to hurt anyone.”

  She continued regarding me with silent fear, green eyes bulging, only moving to place her teddy bear between her and me. Whatever I did, it would bring no comfort to her. What was left of my anger washed away in a sea of guilt.

  “If I go away and have Crista come, will you come out?”

  Pearl stayed frozen.

  “Right.” I sighed and straightened and came face-to-face with Cristina herself. Standing on the stairs, she was a good foot taller than normal, and I could look her in the eye. Except I didn’t want to. Keeping my focus on the door behind her, I said, “I think she wants to talk to you.”

  In a daze, I wandered back to the living room. What had I done? Both Sev and Pearl were upset with me, and I had no idea how to fix it. The world pressed around my ears, the stuffy heat choking me. I needed to get out, go anywhere, as long as it wasn’t here.

  But there was nowhere to go. I couldn’t very well wander around the town after what I’d done, and the woods… Actually, the woods were probably all right, at least during the day. We’d been in them for hours yesterday, and nothing bad had happened. Well, nothing besides the obvious. And I knew the path now, so I wasn’t likely to get lost. Maybe if I took a little walk and reexamine the crime scene? Kelly might have missed something in his rush to harass people.

  I went out the front door and took a wide arc around the house in case Crista and Pearl were dawdling outside and approached the tree line. City born and raised, I paused before following the path in. The trees were by far the tallest things in the area, many of them a good four or five stories high, and everything below their branches skulked in shadow. Still, I was more afraid of myself than I was of any imagined big bad wolf, so I dove in, following the dirt track leading into the depths.

  It didn’t take long to find the scene of Trask’s murder. Kelly had run a rope around some of the trunks to keep people off the exact spot. Laughable and not nearly enough to stop me. I slipped under and walked to the center, foliage collapsing under my feet with every step. There, the indentation the body had made; there on one end the blood. The branch was gone, maybe even tagged and stored somewhere in the police station, though I doubted they’d get any useful prints off bark.

  I looked around. Trees. Brush. Nothing else. So much for justifying my running away like a petulant child as a clue-finding expedition. I sighed and tried to slide back under the ropes. My foot caught on a root, and I stumbled forward, catching myself on a trunk. Something squished beneath my hand. Threads of sap clung to my skin. I groaned and reached for my handkerchief to wipe it off.

  Sap and leaves. Whoever had killed Trask had probably gotten covered in them. It was almost stupidly obvious. Except most of the town had been in the woods that day, and they’d all gotten all sorts of debris on them if Maude’s long list of dry-cleaning clients was any indication. Had that been the plan, to have a bunch of people traipse around the crime scene? Fran hadn’t said who organized the search party. Maybe they’d planned it as a cover-up.

  “Hey, what’re you doing out here?”

  I froze, the unexpected voice making my heart thunder in my ears and all the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. I turned toward the source.

  He was 90 percent white beard and 10 percent black boots, with blue eyes in a sun-roughened face. His frame was thinner than mine but more muscled. He had a rifle slung over one shoulder and a bowie knife stuck in his belt. Seeing the gun, what courage I had left took off to hide behind the nearest rock. I contemplated yelling for help, but honestly, who was going to hear me all the way out here?

  “H-hello, my name is Alex,” I said with a distinct and unintentional tremor in my voice, “I was just looking—”

  “You’re on my land,” said the man.

  “Oh, I didn’t realize.” I took a ginger step backward. “If you tell me where your property line is, I will get right off, Mister?”

  “There ain’t no mister. It’s Ed.”

  Ed? The guy Trask had been having a land dispute with? The one who chased him with a knife? “I’m sorry. I thought this was Mr. Trask’s property.”

  A gravelly noise came from Ed’s throat, and I wasn’t sure if it was a sign of contemplation or aggression. “Mmm, well, he’s dead, so the land is mine now. This is all mine out here.”

  “All of it?”

  He nodded. “If not in name, then in right. I’m the one living on it, aren’t I?” He tromped around me placidly like he hadn’t scared the hell out of me ten seconds ago. “Judging by your shoes, you don’t take hikes often. What’cha doing out here anyway, boy? Are you a reporter looking to make a dime off a dead man?”

  Vern’s smirking face flashed in my memory for a moment. “No, I’m just looking. I heard mixed things about him.”

  “Yeah, well, we’re all a mix, aren’t we.” Ed continued hiking away.

  With a gust of nerve, I called after him, “What’re you doing out here?”

  He turned back, and for a brief moment, I was sorry I’d done anything to draw his attention again. “My land, I said.” He inclined his chin to our right. North? East? I had no idea what direction. “Got a place yonder. Not that I recommend you visit. It isn’t a place for big-city pretty boys. Yeah, I know about you already. Boston lightweight.”

  I thought about asking how he knew about me, but the whole town was a grapevine of rumor. It would be odd if he didn’t know I was new. I opened my mouth to try to continue the conversation, but
nothing came out. I was too fixated on the rifle. Ed ignored me and continued his trek to nowhere.

  I took a step back and then another. I wasn’t scared. No. It was that I’d left Crista to watch Pearl without asking, and Sev had said he would be back in an hour, and it had to be close to that now. If he came home and we had to move, then we needed to move fast. Even if by some luck we didn’t have to flee again, I ought to be there with, well maybe not apologies, at least something nice like a cup of tea. I was definitely not retreating—looking over my shoulder every couple steps—because I was nervous.

  Ed didn’t follow me, or if he did, at least I couldn’t tell. Still, I felt uneasy until I made it back to the yard. Neither Pearl nor Crista was visible, but I made a check under the porch just in case. Now I had to go back in and make my amends.

  I opened the back door. Crista stood by the stove, stirring something that smelled of onions. Pearl watched me from a seat at the table, Daisy giving me scornful looks from her lap.

  Crista glanced up before returning to her pot. “Ah, you’re back.”

  “Yeah.” I shuffled into the kitchen. “Sorry about disappearing there. I needed to take a walk.”

  She nodded, still not looking at me.

  The silence gutted me. “Is Sev home?”

  She shook her head.

  Christ, it was like I’d had the fight with her. I sighed and went to Pearl, crouching so I looked her in the eye. “And I’m sorry I scared you. I know you don’t like when people yell. But I would never hurt you, okay? Never in a million years.”

  Pearl’s eyes tracked across my face. Searching for the lie, maybe. But it wasn’t a lie. Whatever terrible things I was destined to do, hitting her would not be one of them. She must have seen the promise on my face because she relaxed, and a slight smile appeared on her lips.

  “Okay, I know,” she said.

  She reached out to me, and I got an awkward hug with Daisy grumbling between us. The cat jumped down and meandered toward the living room. Pearl giggled and got up to follow her. I stood again and caught Crista looking. She too seemed to carry less tension.