by Beverly Long
He didn’t give a shit. Which had probably been the reason they’d gotten divorced.
He caught movement out of the corner of his left eye and turned his head. Damn. James Adeva from the newspaper. He sat down on the chair next to A.L.
“Evening,” Adeva said, sounding nice.
A.L. wasn’t convinced. There hadn’t been blood at the scenes but plenty of it in Adeva’s articles, mainly because his aim was the carotid artery of the Baywood Police Department.
“Anything new on the serial killer?” Adeva asked.
“Comments from the police department will come through the communications office.”
“Come on,” Adeva said. “You’re here. I’m here.”
Why was Adeva here? He was pretty confident that he didn’t have a kid at Baywood High School. He wasn’t old enough for that. And he hadn’t grown up in Baywood. A.L. remembered when he’d moved to town and taken the job at the newspaper. Wouldn’t normally remember things like that, but Adeva had latched onto a story about cops and overtime pay that he hadn’t been willing to let go. It had made an impression on A.L.
“I thought this was by invitation only,” A.L. said.
“Press pass,” Adeva said.
The Bulletin wasn’t a big newspaper, but he didn’t think its star reporter would cover a high school play. But Adeva was smart, had maybe realized that A.L. would be here to watch Traci.
It pissed him off that his kid was being used like that.
“People in the community are concerned that the police aren’t doing enough to find the killer,” Adeva said.
A.L. stared straight ahead.
“They wonder if there is sufficient expertise to conduct an investigation of this scope.”
Christ. All he wanted was a couple of hours to watch his kid. But if Adeva thought he could be goaded into saying something beyond the department’s official statements, he was an idiot.
“Enjoy the show,” A.L. said. Then he shifted in his seat, just enough that he could no longer see the reporter. Within a minute or two, he felt the air stir and knew that Adeva was leaving.
A.L. watched him walk all the way to the back of the auditorium and leave. Then the lights dimmed and the curtain lifted. For the next two hours, he simply sat back and enjoyed. What was better than seeing your kid up onstage, with a lot of other good kids, having fun? It was worth having to sit through Bye Bye Birdie again, given that his own class had performed the same damn play his junior year.
Of course, he hadn’t been on the stage. At the time, he’d been confident that singing and dancing were for pussies. But he had built scenery and helped with the lights.
He watched his little girl dance across the stage. And marveled at the improbability that he and Jacqui could have made such a cool kid.
When the play was over, the audience stood in appreciation. Then the kids were jumping off the stage, running to find their parents. Traci, ever the diplomat, headed toward her mom but waved him over. He went. He and Jacqui had mastered public civility soon after their divorce.
Jacqui was hugging Traci and saw him approach. “Wasn’t she great?” she said by way of greeting.
“Fabulous,” he said. “She better get an agent.”
“Oh, Dad.” Traci giggled. Her face was flushed, and her stage makeup was coming off on the collar of her shirt. “Did you like it, really?”
“Loved it,” he said sincerely. He handed her the flowers.
“Thanks, Dad. Mom got a cake from Hick’s Bakery. Can you join us?” His daughter belatedly turned to Jacqui. “Please, Mom?”
“Of course,” Jacqui said. But he could hear the catch in her voice. Knew that she wasn’t crazy about the idea. He could back out, give them all some space, but then he saw Craig Olson making his way toward the group.
“That would be great,” he said.
Jacqui probably recognized the challenge in his voice, because it seemed as if her spine might have straightened. She deliberately took a step back, widening the circle to allow Olson to join the group.
Nobody introduced the two of them.
“Super job, Traci,” Olson said.
“Thanks,” Traci said. “I almost forgot my line in Act Two.”
“Nobody noticed,” Olson said.
Traci looked at A.L. “Um, Dad, this is Mr. Olson.”
A.L. stuck out a hand for a shake. “I think we washed cars together one Saturday afternoon.” It had been a fund-raiser for something.
“That’s right,” Olson said. He looked at Jacqui. Rather expectantly.
“Craig and I are dating,” she blurted.
A.L. got the feeling that Olson had been waiting for that public announcement. “Great,” he said. He turned to Traci. “Did you drive here?”
“Yes.”
“Okay, I’ll follow you home.”
“I have to say goodbye to my friends.”
He walked to his car and drove around behind the school, to where the students had parked. He found Traci’s car and waited another fifteen minutes for her to get to it. But he understood. The kids were pumped, and by now, a thousand pictures were floating around in cyberspace.
When she walked out, he flashed his lights just once and then eased into traffic right behind her three-year-old Ford Focus. By the time they got to the house, there were cars already in the driveway, but they’d left space for Traci to pull into the two-car garage. He recognized Mary Jane’s, and he suspected the SUV belonged to Olson. He parked on the street and was waiting for his daughter when she got out of the car.
“Are you really okay with Mom dating Craig Olson?”
“Mr. Olson?” he said.
“He told me I can call him Craig when we’re not at school.”
“It’s fine,” he said. “Do you like him?”
“I guess,” she said, shrugging. “He seems nice.”
“And your mom likes him?” A.L. asked.
“I think so.”
“I guess that’s all that matters.” He put his arm around his daughter’s shoulders and walked with her into his old house. “Let’s go have some cake. I hope it’s chocolate.”
“Of course it’s chocolate, Dad.”
He had cake, ice cream and a cup of coffee. All while he stood in the kitchen, away from the center of the party. After twenty minutes, he found his daughter. He leaned in close to her ear. “Got a minute?”
“Sure.”
The way she said it, he knew that she knew what was coming. He had assumed that John had communicated their little meet and greet and that she’d been dreading the follow-up. Had maybe assumed that he’d give her a pass tonight, because of the play and the party.
Screw that. Her future, and the fact that Golf Course John could mess that up fast, was too important.
He led her outside, and they stood between the house and the garage. It was a pleasant spring night and the half-moon was high in the sky. “I think you might know why I want to talk with you.”
She nodded.
“He’s too old for you.”
“Six years isn’t that much.”
“When you’re sixteen, it is. Honey, it’s not something that I’m going to debate with you. You cannot date him.”
“He’s a nice guy,” she said. “He’s in college. He’s going to make something of himself. Those are all the things that are important to you.”
“He was very polite,” A.L. acknowledged, willing to throw her a bone. “And I’m glad he’s in school and that his career is not working behind the counter at the golf course. But that changes nothing. Does your mom know?”
Traci shook her head. “Don’t tell her,” she said.
Now he shook his head. “Don’t ask that of me,” he said. “It’s not fair. And she needs to know. This is too important.”
“Not tonight,”
she said, her tone pleading. “Or this weekend. I just want to get through the play without her getting hysterical.”
He considered the request. “Okay. As long as you promise me that you’re not going to be seeing John this weekend.”
“I’m not. There’s no time.”
“Then on Sunday. I’m not going to forget.”
“Do you ever?”
He hated that she was mad at him. But right now, she needed him to be a father, not a best friend.
“What’s the story with the prom date?”
“I wanted to go to prom. I can’t take John. The school won’t allow anyone over twenty-one. When Derek asked me, it seemed like a good idea. We’re just good friends.”
“Are you using Derek, Traci? Because that doesn’t sound like you. Doesn’t sound like somebody who is doing the right thing.”
“I’m not using him,” she denied, now fully pissed at him. “Derek knows that I’m dating somebody else. He said it doesn’t matter.”
Probably because the guy was hung up on his daughter and was willing to settle for scraps, hoping to convince her that he’d be a better choice. “We’ll talk about this Sunday. With your mother.”
“Fine.” She turned to walk back to the house.
“You did great tonight, Traci. Hope tomorrow and Saturday go as well.”
She turned. “Thanks.”
“I love you,” he said.
She blew out a breath. “I know. I just really wish you hadn’t gone to the golf course today.”
“Coincidence can be a bitch,” he said.
She smiled. “Thanks for being there tonight, Dad. And for coming to the party. I know that’s not always so great for you.”
This was why he loved his daughter. “It was fine. And I’m going to tell everybody I know that my girl is a star.”
He watched her walk into the house and realized that he didn’t really have all that many people to tell. Normally that wouldn’t have bothered him. But tonight, it sat heavy on his chest.
He was too fucking young to have a heart attack, wasn’t he?
It wasn’t Jacqui and Craig. It was Terry Picus and his goddamn bird feeders.
He pulled his phone, scrolled through his contacts. “Hey,” he said when she answered.
“How’s it going, A.L.?”
“It’s going,” he said. “I thought I might stop by.”
“I thought of you today. So many times.”
She understood the work. Understood him. “Are you sure it’s not too late?”
“I’m in my jammies. But I guess that will be okay.”
They both knew the score. “See you in ten, Carrie.”
“Looking forward to it.”
Twelve
Friday, May 13, Day 3
A.L. was already awake when his alarm went off at 5:00 a.m. He’d slept badly after leaving Carrie’s house at 1:00 a.m. The sex should have mellowed him out, nullifying any effect of the coffee and chocolate cake he’d had at Traci’s party. It had, temporarily, and he’d slept for at least an hour before leaving Carrie’s warm bed. She’d encouraged him to stay. Sometimes he did, but last night, he’d felt the need to drag his sorry ass home.
Carrie hadn’t begged. She never did.
He knew he’d been restless because he was dreading the conversation with Liz. She was sweet. Funny. She’d been a skinny little kid who’d turned into a gangly teenager who had blossomed into a pretty woman. As nice as she is pretty. That’s what people used to say about Liz.
He’d seen her at her worst. Or if he hadn’t, then her worst was pretty goddamn bad. And he’d yelled and threatened and coaxed and begged, depending on his ability to channel the emotions she churned up in him.
He made coffee, then showered and shaved. Once he was dressed, he toasted a bagel and added enough cream cheese to piss off his doctor, who wanted him to go on cholesterol medication. Then he was out the door.
He was driving almost straight east, so the sun was in his eyes once it crested the horizon. But he didn’t care. May was a good month. Flowers were blooming. Grass was green. Mosquitoes hadn’t yet hatched. At least, not many.
And they were going to catch a serial killer. He had Tess Lyons’s parents’ house address loaded into his phone. He would have breakfast with Liz and hopefully get her to agree to return to treatment. He’d drive her from Madison to Chicago, which was two hours. On his way out of there, he’d do some business at the Poisen headquarters. Then go north to Milwaukee, another ninety minutes. With good luck, he could be there by noon. He wanted to be back in Baywood in time to see the first official performance of Bye Bye Birdie. By the time he saw tonight’s and tomorrow’s productions, he’d know the lyrics to the silly-ass songs. He hadn’t said anything to Traci or Jacqui about being there both nights, because he didn’t want to disappoint anyone if something came up. But Traci would love it if he was able to see all three. It didn’t matter if he had to work all night to see that kind of smile on her face. He could sleep when he was dead.
His parents hadn’t been the type to go to much of anything. His dad hadn’t even attended his high school graduation. He’d had to work, said his boss wouldn’t give him the time off. At the time, A.L. had said he didn’t give a shit. But he did. And while he would never know for sure, he thought it was likely a convenient excuse. His dad hated any event where the crowd exceeded thirty and there wasn’t a big screen with football or baseball on it.
A.L. had sworn he wouldn’t make the same mistakes. And hadn’t much cared that if he had to stand on his head to make it happen, he tried not to miss much of Traci’s life.
The traffic flowed easily and didn’t slow down until he got within twenty minutes of Madison. Even so, he arrived fifteen minutes earlier than he’d anticipated. He parked down the street from Liz’s condo, wanting to make sure that Tom had left for work. His patience was rewarded ten minutes later when he saw the door of the attached garage go up and Tom’s red SUV pull out. It was a Toyota Highlander, just like A.L.’s, but several years newer.
He waited five more minutes, just to make sure the guy didn’t get to the end of the block and then go back for something he’d forgotten. Then he walked up to his sister’s door and rang the bell.
When she answered it, he could see that yesterday had probably been a pretty good day and she hadn’t yet dipped into the sauce. Her eyes were clear, her hair was combed and her grip was sure when she wrapped her arms around him for a hug. Over her shoulder, he could see the kitchen counter and sink. There weren’t any dirty dishes lying around and no open bottles, either.
He relaxed just a bit. But not too much, because Liz had gotten pretty damn good at hiding her drinking. “Hey, Lizzie,” he said.
“A.L.,” she whispered, her mouth close to his ear. “You don’t have to worry about me.”
He pulled back. Oh, but he did. “Hungry?” he asked.
“Sure.”
She usually ate like a bird, picking at her food. And she was too thin. “Is our usual place still open?”
“Yes.”
Three Wishes wasn’t fancy. It was the kind of place where dishes got dropped in bus tubs as tables were quickly cleaned. The older waitresses called you honey and then yelled your order back at the cook through a pass-through window that was generally loaded with plates waiting to be delivered. But the coffee was hot, the biscuits and gravy were about as good as he’d ever had and he and Liz could talk without being overheard. “I’ll drive.”
“How’s Traci?” she asked when they were in his SUV.
He told her about the play, about how she sang her heart out, about going to the house afterward for cake and ice cream. He did not tell her about skipping school and drinking or about Golf Course John. Not because he was embarrassed. Kids did shit like that. But he didn’t want her to worry.
“She was alw
ays special,” she said once he finished.
Liz had been married for about ten years and then single after that. He suspected that alcohol had driven away Brock, her ex-husband, whom A.L. had liked. They had never had any children. She’d had a number of short-term relationships, and now, of course, there was Tom, whose middle name had to be Lives in Denial.
“Thank you,” he said. “But I’m partial.”
“And how’s Jacqui?”
Liz and Jacqui had been friendly while he and Jacqui had dated. Once they were married and Traci came along, the relationship between the two had become strained. Jacqui hadn’t trusted Liz to babysit. He’d never pushed the issue, because he’d never been too sure that she was wrong. But Liz had given him a free pass on it, choosing to put the blame on Jacqui. “Fine. She’s dating a teacher from Traci’s high school.”
“What do you think about that?”
She would know that he didn’t care about Jacqui dating, but would be concerned about Jacqui having a man in the house with his daughter. “Traci thinks he’s okay, and everything I’ve heard about him in the community bears that out.”
“But you’re going to watch him.”
“Like a hawk,” he said.
She laughed, and for a second, he could almost believe that what was happening was nothing more than a brother and sister grabbing a bite to eat. He pulled into the parking lot, avoided a big pothole and found a spot in the second row.
The third booth in a long row was empty, and they slid in. By habit, he faced the door. The waitress swung by. “Coffee? Need menus?”
It was two separate questions but ran together like one. He glanced at Liz.
“Coffee for both,” she said, knowing that he practically took it intravenously. “I’ll take eggs over medium and whole wheat toast.”
“Biscuits and gravy and two scrambled eggs on the side,” he said.
“Got it.” The waitress moved away so fast that the air stirred.
“I love this place,” he said.
“There’s probably gum stuck under the tables,” Liz said.
“I don’t care.”
