by Kris Bock
I snorted. “Right. It had nothing to do with the way you nagged him, and all those innuendos. How is a man supposed to put up with those kinds of accusations?” I couldn’t stand still. I paced the small open area of floor, two steps and then back. My eyes stung. “Like I would really try to steal your husband, at thirteen.”
She gasped. “That had nothing to do with you! He was having an affair with his secretary.”
I jerked to a stop. “He was?”
“Absolutely. Of all the clichés women have to suffer! I found sexy messages between them, and then he admitted it. He said they hadn’t slept together yet, but what difference does that make? It was still a betrayal. I was going to give him another chance, for Ricky’s sake.” She looked away and brushed at the corner of her eye with a knuckle. “But I wanted to punish him, too. He had to suffer somehow for what he’d done.”
“But you’d say things to him and then stare right at me. I thought you were accusing me of something, too!”
She brushed at her eye again. “I wanted you to understand, to not blame me for what was happening.” She clasped her hands at her waist. “I shouldn’t have said those things in front of you. No wonder you hate me.”
“I don’t hate you!” I closed my eyes a second. Then I met her gaze. “Maybe I do hate you sometimes. You have to control everyone. Everything has to be your way.”
“I just want what’s best for you and Ricky.”
I gave a sigh that was almost a groan. “I know. But you’re not God! You can’t know exactly what is best for every other person at every moment. I’m an adult now. You have to let me make my own decisions.”
Her lips pursed and she didn’t say anything for a long time. It was foolish to think she could change after all these years. I sagged, the anger gone, nothing left but exhaustion. I was about to walk away when finally she spoke. “It’s hard. Hard to let go.”
I touched her arm. “I know. Or at least, I can imagine a little. I want to protect Ricky, too. I guess….” I searched for understanding. “I guess it’s like I want to feel that if he does exactly what I say, and I say the right things, he won’t be hurt. Is it like that for you?”
She considered. Nodded once.
“Okay. I’ll accept that you want to protect us. But we can’t go on like this! Maybe you’ll never be able to see me as an equal, but can’t you at least try to see me as an adult? You can give me advice as … as a friend, but you can’t give orders anymore.”
She blinked rapidly, her eyes moist. Had I finally made a chink in her armor? She gave a kind of half-nod, half-shrug that could have meant anything, but at least she wasn’t yelling or storming away. I was tempted to press my advantage, maybe drag an actual promise out of her in her weakened state. But somehow I couldn’t make myself do it. It was disturbing to see my mother not entirely in control.
I glanced away. “I do appreciate it all, you know. The fact that you raised me alone. I know it wasn’t easy. I wouldn’t have wanted to have a child at seventeen.”
“Don’t.” Her voice was low and raw. “Don’t start too soon.”
I had to smile. “You do realize I’m already five years older than you were then.”
She gasped out, “It’s still too soon!” She swallowed a couple of times and when she spoke again her voice sounded closer to normal. “Live your life first. The life I didn’t get.”
I gazed at her, trying not to be hurt by her bitterness. I’d always tried to be a good child. Had life with me really been so hard?
It probably had.
“I’ll live my life, and I hope my life will include children. Not right away, but someday. But I won’t live the life you wanted. That’s for you to do. You’re not too old.”
She sniffled but managed a smile. “Thanks for that.”
I rubbed my hands over my face and finger-combed my hair. “Mom, now that we’ve sorted that out, I should probably tell you what happened today.”
She studied me. “Is this something that needs a pot of tea?”
“Yeah. That would be good.”
“Let me change.”
“I’ll get the water going.” I dragged myself to the kitchen and filled the kettle. My phone rang in the living room. I glanced at the clock—nearly ten o’clock. A little late for a weeknight phone call, and I didn’t get many calls at any time. I crept toward the phone with caution. Maybe the police had something more to report.
I picked up the phone and saw the caller ID. Nascha. What could she have to say that wouldn’t wait until morning? Unless she wanted to see if we’d survived the evening.
Chapter 24
I took a deep breath and answered.
She spoke before I could. “Audra? Are you all right?”
She knew. She already knew about the accident. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“I just talked to Kyle and he said your brakes had been cut!”
“Wait—you said you didn’t know Kyle.” And how did he know about my brakes? My head pounded.
Mom came into the living room in sweatpants. I covered the phone, whispered, “Ricky will tell you,” and headed for my room.
“I don’t,” Nascha was saying. “Daniel called me, and then he put Kyle on. I guess the police were there, and Kyle was worried about you, but he didn’t have your phone number. Daniel thought I might have it.”
I sank to my bed. After I sorted through what she’d said, it made sense. I’d taken Kyle’s number but hadn’t given him mine. Daniel knew that I knew Nascha and knew about her good memory for numbers. And of course the police would go there and ask questions, after what I told them.
“Audra? Are you there? Are you all right?”
“Yeah, I’m all right. We just got a scare.”
“It’s true then? Someone cut your brakes?”
“Looks that way.”
“I can’t believe it. I can’t believe what’s been happening.” That made two of us. After a long silence, she said, “It’s late. You’re probably exhausted. I’ll see you tomorrow, but call me if you need anything, any time. About Kyle—I didn’t want to give him your number without checking with you first. But he sounded really worried.”
Warmth flooded me but quickly turned cool and sluggish. If only I could be sure he really cared about me and wasn’t just checking on his sabotage plan. “Okay.”
“Do you want me to call them back?”
“No. I’ll take care of it. Thanks.”
“All right. You take care of yourself, too. Goodnight.”
I sat on the bed with the phone in my hand. I could hear Ricky’s voice from the kitchen, high-pitched with excitement.
I needed to figure this out. Kyle seemed like the obvious suspect for cutting my brakes. He had the opportunity. He had the—what do they call it—the means, because he no doubt had tools in his truck or at the house. What about motive? That was still open. But if he’d had something to do with his sister’s death, maybe through drugs, he might’ve gotten suspicious about our visit. And decided to do … what? Get rid of me?
As murder attempts go, it was kind of weak. His house was down in the valley; I was in town up on the plateau. It would have been better to tamper with my car when I was heading down, not up. Besides, with airbags and seatbelts, the chance of a fatal accident dropped. Maybe it was a warning. Maybe he hoped he’d get lucky. The intersection could have gone much worse, and injuries could have stopped our snooping even if they weren’t fatal.
Or maybe Kyle had nothing to do with it. The alternatives still didn’t fit, but imagining some unknown culprit made more sense than imagining that gentle, hurting man clipping my brake cables, before we’d even asked nosy questions, and then sharing tea and cookies. Or was that wishful thinking?
I lay back on the bed and closed my eyes. Friend or enemy? How did one tell?
If he was a friend, and really worried, I should call him. If he was an enemy, I shouldn’t let him know I suspected.
Either way, I should call him. But I didn
’t think I was up for that phone call. I settled on a text instead. I typed in “Everything okay. No injuries.” I sent that and considered following up with, “Thanks for concern.”
The phone rang. Kyle. Of course he had my number now from the text, but didn’t he get the hint when I texted rather than called? But now he knew I was with my phone, and if I ignored him…. I groaned and answered the phone. “Hello?” I let the exhaustion sound in my voice.
“Audra, you’re really okay? And Ricky?”
He thought to ask about my brother. I softened a little. “We’re both fine.”
“Thank God. I’m so sorry.”
I tensed. Was that some kind of admission? “For what?”
“When the police came, I could see the stain where your brake fluid started leaking while you were parked. If I’d been paying attention, I could’ve caught you before you reached the gate.” I could hear faint thumps in the background, as if he was pacing in heavy boots. “I was right there! I walked you to your car and stood there watching you—um, making sure you got out of the gate okay. I should have noticed something was wrong.”
I felt a smile tugging at my lips. I could see him as a person who felt guilty about something that was in no way his fault, simply because he was a protector at heart. “It’s not your fault.” I really hoped that was true.
“Gran and Daniel feel terrible, too. Like you haven’t been through enough in the last week.”
“We all have, I guess.”
“Yeah. Well….”
The silence stretched. I could still hear Ricky talking in the kitchen. He would probably tell me to use this opportunity to get information. Maybe that beat having nothing to say. So far Kyle hadn’t seemed upset that I’d sent the police to question him, which seemed a little weird. “Did the police have anything interesting to say?”
“They wanted to know if we had any other trouble. We checked our vehicles, but they’re all fine. I hate thinking that somebody was sneaking around the place. We don’t usually even lock our doors.” Ah, of course he’d assume it was a trespasser, if he was innocent. Or he’d blame an outsider, if he was guilty.
After a pause, he added, “The police wanted to know exactly what we were each doing the whole time your car was parked here. Audra, I hope you don’t think we would do anything like this to you. I have no way to prove it, but I swear we don’t want to hurt you or Ricky. You found Bethany’s body and reported it—you can’t even imagine how grateful we are for that.”
I swallowed and found my voice. “Okay. I mean—” I gave a weak laugh. “I’m not sure what I mean. I don’t—it’s not your fault.” I could believe that. I wanted to believe that.
“Are we all right then? I’d still like to take you out with the birds sometime. Or … we could do something else.” His voice held hope and fear, and somehow that gave me confidence. I wasn’t the only nervous one.
“Okay.” I wanted to see him again. I wanted to look in his eyes and see if I could judge the kind of person he was. Maybe it was stupid to go near someone who might be a murderer, but I had to know the truth. This wasn’t just for Bethany anymore—this was for me. “How about tomorrow?”
“Really? Great! We can take the young hawk out after work, if you’re interested—and bring your brother, too, of course, if you want.”
“We’ll see. He might be busy.” I’d make sure he was. I wouldn’t take chances with Ricky.
“Okay. Can I pick you up?”
My car was in the shop, and I wasn’t sure if the police were done with it or how long it would take to get fixed. Mom could drop me off in the morning. “Pick me up at work.” I’d have to figure out where to have him drop me off if I didn’t want him to know where I lived. Of course, in a town this size, it wouldn’t be that hard to find out.
We confirmed time and place and said goodnight. I lay back on my bed, struggling to make sense of my feelings. I had a date. I was pretty sure it was a date. With a fascinating man—who might have something to do with his sister’s murder.
Had I done something stupid by agreeing to see Kyle? Maybe the sensible thing would be to avoid seeing Kyle and Nascha, anyone who might be involved with Bethany’s murder, until the case was solved.
But what if it never was solved? By refusing to be friends now, I might lose the opportunity later. I had a life to live, and it went beyond being the person who discovered a dead body. Ultimately, I had to make my own choices about people. If I never went near a man who might be flawed, who might have done something bad in the past or be capable of doing something bad in the future, I couldn’t go near men at all. Even Mom, for all her complaints about men, still seemed to want to find one, so she must still believe there were decent ones.
And what about Nascha? Looking at her behavior one way, it seemed suspicious—knowing my phone number, going out of her way to spend time with me, asking questions, and having a connection to the case. But looking at it another way, you had a few coincidences, not uncommon in a small town, and the overtures of someone who could be a very good friend. If I wanted to be the kind of person who deserved a good friend, then I needed to be a good friend. That meant taking some chances and going a little bit on faith.
That didn’t mean I had to be careless. When I was out with Kyle, Ricky could be my backup. I’d tell him where I was going and turn on the GPS tracking function on my phone so he could see my location. Not that I expected anything to go wrong … but just in case.
I gazed around the room at my posters of cute kittens and puppies. A child’s room. Never even a teenager’s room, since Mom hadn’t approved of posters of cute actors and rock stars. I wasn’t a child any longer. It was time to take on the responsibilities of being an adult. I hoped to get an apartment of my own before long, after I’d saved up enough money for the security deposit and some furniture. In the meantime, I didn’t have to live like this.
I got up and started taking posters off the wall. It was time to take charge of my life. I’d wipe down the walls, vacuum, wash the window—get the place spotless, and then start over and make it mine.
The door pushed open. “Audra, are you okay? Ricky told me—” Mom glanced at the pile of posters on my bed. “What are you doing?”
“Redecorating my room.”
“Oh.” She studied me for a moment. “I’ll help.”
Chapter 25
Mom asked me to drop her off in the morning and said I could take her car. She said she’d walk the two miles home, because she needed the exercise anyway, but I remembered her rule from when I was a teenager—make sure you always have your own way home. Maybe she was looking out for me. If so, she didn’t make a fuss about it, so neither did I.
The best thing I could do at work was to learn my job well. I did, however, manage to get some information from Eslinda as we finalized plans for an event the following weekend. Eslinda had no trouble chatting while going over schedules or sketching diagrams, though my head spun from all the details, work and non-work related.
Mrs. Moore had been a nice girl, but timid. Eslinda didn’t like Mr. Moore. He was domineering, though not, so far as she knew, physically abusive. Bethany had been rebellious and often in trouble, but she never heard much about Kyle until he joined the military, which had surprised a lot of people but seemed to please his father. Things “had been rough” when Kyle came back with his injury.
When I prodded for any rumors of drug abuse, Eslinda merely looked mysterious and said some things were private. “I wouldn’t normally be telling you all this other stuff,” she said, “except you’re already so involved, and maybe understanding people better will help it all make sense.”
She knew less about the Bains, but she confirmed that Thomas wasn’t married to Lia’s mother—never had been, she thought. Lia lived with her mother and several younger siblings from other fathers. Jay’s parents were divorced. Jay’s mother had left town with two younger kids, but Jay, then seventeen, had elected to stay with his father to finish high school.<
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I felt dirty, prying for gossip, especially about unhappy families. Still, I told myself it was better to know. Somehow I had to make sense of everything that had happened.
When Nascha asked if I wanted to grab some lunch, I said, “Sure, if we make it quick. I want to go to the thrift store.”
“Looking for anything in particular?”
“I’m redecorating my room.” I studied her outfit, a simple but elegant olive-green silk top and slim skirt, with a chunky necklace of silver and dark green stones. “Given that you’re the most stylish person I know, maybe you could help?”
She persuaded me to start at the artists’ co-op, so I returned from lunch with a framed art print and a quilt with a design of irises that picked up the purple in the painting, each for less than I would have spent on something half as good in a department store. I was going to enjoy having a shopping girlfriend.
I spent the afternoon dealing with one hysterical bride-to-be, a cranky caterer, and a large, loud family planning for their daughter’s quinceañera. I knew that the “coming out party” for a Hispanic girl’s fifteenth birthday was a big deal, but I didn’t realize how fancy and expensive they could get until I was involved in planning one.
And then it was time to meet Kyle. I texted Ricky that I was leaving, turned on my GPS, and checked that he would be able to see me on the mapping program—just in case.
Kyle’s truck was screeching again, but this time I knew it must be coming from the bird in the back. I tried to think of conversation as he maneuvered through the parking lot. “Is that a falcon or a hawk?”
“Red-tailed hawk. We take the falcons out in the morning. They’re easier to lose, so that gives you all day to find them.”
“Lose?” I had an odd image of someone forgetting where they had put down their falcon. Hard to imagine, if they made as much noise as the hawk did.
“They start chasing something and get out of sight, or go where you can’t follow, like over a mountain or across the river. All the birds we fly have radio telemetry on so we can track them, but if they hit something hard it can break the telemetry, or it might come off on a fence or something. This is a big state and tends to swallow up birds.”
