by K. E. Garvey
Warren stood and took a step closer. “I’ve been locked up with you for how long?”
“Nearly ten—”
“That’s right. Better part of ten years. Have you ever heard me mention that name, Amy what-was-it, Bloo?”
“I s’pose not.”
“That’s right. I never heard that name before. Why would I get out only to go and shoot some woman I never heard of at some race? Does that really sound like me?” He took another step toward Rodney.
Rodney hung his head and shook it back and forth. “I don’t know Warren, they seem pretty sure it was you.”
“Like they’ve never fingered the wrong guy before.” He stepped closer. “I’ll tell you what… I got a car now, how about right after work tomorrow I pick you up and we both go to the police? You can tell them that I was here all the time before I got a job. You can vouch for me. You’d do that for me, wouldn’t you?”
“You mean like an alibi?”
Warren looked around the room. “No, not an alibi. You only need an alibi when you’ve done something wrong, and I haven’t done nothing wrong. I’ve been the perfect houseguest, haven’t I?”
“I s’pose.”
Warren heard the defeat in Rodney’s voice. “So, will you do that for me? Will you go to the police with me? We’ll get it straightened out, I promise.”
Rodney’s slumped posture put Warren at ease, at least for the moment.
“Sister ain’t gonna like this. She don’t want no trouble.”
“And I ain’t going to cause her any. Is she coming tomorrow?”
“Nah. She hardly ever comes two days in a row.”
“Then you don’t have to lie to her. All’s I’m asking is you don’t say nothing to nobody until after we talk to the police. Can you keep your mouth shut until I get home tomorrow?”
“Course I can.” His jaw jutted out and the skin around his narrowed eyes wrinkled into indignation.
“I’ll take care of it. You have my word.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a set of keys. As Rodney watched them swing from his index finger, Warren added, “You want to grab a couple of beers? They’re on me.”
As easy as making a kid forget about the spanking by offering him a lollipop, Rodney followed Warren to the door like a puppy follows his master. He was able to put out the fire with little more than an empty promise and a few bottles of beer, but putting out the sparks would take more work. He wasn’t foolish enough to think Rodney would sit on this indefinitely. Rodney was a guy with no life, no one to talk to other than him when he was home, and didn’t possess the smarts to follow direction past a can of beer.
Rodney wasn’t his only problem though. He couldn’t return to work. A bunch of blue-collar workers with little more to their lives than dinner on the table at five, news at six, and their old lady faking an orgasm at eleven, he’d be willing to bet at least half of them had heard his name broadcasted on the news tonight. Sure as shit the police would show up before his first fifteen-minute break.
Howard would want his car back immediately once his name had circulated like welding fumes through the plant—that was for certain. But he needed the car. He’d have to use it for absolute necessity only and keep it well-hidden in between uses.
When Rodney slammed the door shut behind him, Warren said, “How about we pick up a case and bring it back here. I’m not up for the noise or the smoke tonight.”
Rodney’s eyes lit up at the word “case” like his father’s had lit up each time he’d spot a new parishioner seated in one of the pews of his church.
Here’s where things got hard. There was so much to think about, plans to make, and he couldn’t afford to make even one mistake. His head was pounding, but he had to force himself to stay awake until after Rodney passed out. The chance of him talking to anyone tonight was slim, but his loose liquor lips weren’t something he was willing to risk come morning.
“You think we can grab a bag of pork rinds to go with the beer?” Rodney asked.
“Sure,” he said as the tires crunched their way over the gravel driveway. “And how about a bottle of grain to make the beer stretch further?”
Rodney let out a laugh that made Warren’s skin prickle. “I won’t stop you.”
You bet your ass you won’t, he thought as he put his foot to the pedal and sped down the road.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Sali - 2018
Sali and Amy had spent the first full day at Aunt Katherine’s too lost in grief to do much talking. Mundane conversation splintered their comfortable silence, and anything heavier wore them out. Neither woman had been thrilled with the idea of living where their aunt had died, but considering their limited options they made the decision and now neither wanted to be the one to cause friction in an already difficult situation.
Would Warren make another attempt? Sali had no way of knowing, but the thought of hiding out with their frayed nerves became infuriating when she realized he might be well on his way to the other side of the country after his blotched attack. She wished she had some idea how long they’d have to stay holed up in a tainted house that had once felt like home.
They hadn’t touched anything unnecessarily since their arrival. Neither was willing to cook a meal in the kitchen or sit at the table after learning that her body had been found propped on one of the chairs. Dusting powder remained on most of the surfaces, and the yellow police tape still banded the perimeter of the property. Aside from sleeping in the bedrooms, they spent their time sitting on the uncomfortable furniture in the living room; Amy seemingly contented to be lost in a trance while Sali read and re-read the same line in a magazine until her eyes blurred.
Her body had been found three weeks earlier, but Sali believed she could still smell the pungent odor of death mixed with a tinge of her aunt’s perfume. After all of these years, and quite unknowingly, Warren had managed to punish her again.
She decided to check the locks on the windows once more. Windows were the only thing she could think of that he had had no reason to touch, even though checking for a third time made her feel a bit compulsive.
“What time is Steve supposed to be here?” Amy asked, pulling her from thoughts that jumped all over the place.
She looked at her watch. “Anytime now. I wish he hadn’t been so insistent about coming.”
Amy studied her for a moment. “It might be nice to have him here, don’t you think?”
Amy was more worried than she was, but had every right to be. Her thought-to-be-dead father had made an attempt on her life, and if she were being totally honest that might be even worse that what he had done to her as a child. Learning Warren was alive was a shock. Learning it was him who had tried to kill Amy, not so much. Unconscionable, heinous, depraved—absolutely, but not surprising. She had become sickly aware of her father’s depravity at an early age, something Amy knew nothing of. Rather than to share the twisted details of the relationship she and their father had, she hid them and the humiliation he inflicted on her. What got her through those hard years before his death was knowing that if she gave in to the mental anguish, her sister would become her replacement. When she made up her mind to kill him, she hadn’t thought of it in terms of death. Instead, she chose to see it as saving her sister’s life. Her mental and emotional life. She believed getting over the death of her father would be easier than getting over the perverse pain he would inflict on her baby sister when it became her turn.
Hit with a question that should have occurred to her earlier, she asked Amy, “Why do you suppose he went after you?” as she re-entered the living room after making sure all of the windows were secure.
Amy looked to her in bewilderment. “Like I’m capable of getting inside the mind of a madman?”
Sali picked last month’s issue of Family Circle off the coffee table and began to thumb through it mindlessly. “Just thought you might have a theory.”
“I suppose you have one?”
She closed the magazine an
d thought about the words she was about to say. “No. Nothing. If it had been me he shot, I’d have several. But he didn’t, which leaves me with nothing.”
Sudden rapping on the front door cut her off. Their heads jerked in the direction of the sound before they turned to look at each other. She was expecting Steve, but she hadn’t given thought as to how he’d let them know it was him when he arrived. She pulled her phone from her back pocket and dialed.
In a whisper, she said, “Is that you knocking?” She then rose and headed for the door as her nerves settled.
Two plastic bags in one hand, his keys and phone in the other, he greeted her with a kiss on the cheek. “I hope you’re in the mood for Chinese.”
He sidestepped his way past her as she glanced down the road in each direction before closing and locking the door behind him.
As he set the bags on the table, she pointed to it, and said, “Don’t…”
“He looked at the bags and then back to her, his eyebrows arched under a furrowed brow. “What’s wrong?”
She couldn’t bring herself to look in his direction. “Nothing. Never mind. I don’t think either of us are hungry, but if you are….”
Steve nodded as if he understood why she suggested he eat without them, but his vacant stare told her he didn’t. “I’m good.”
Without saying anything, she led him into the living room where Amy sat in the same seat and in the same position she had been in before the knock on the door. Sali motioned to the other end of the couch. “We’re waiting for Detective Johnston, he’s supposed to be coming by.”
“Any news?” Steve asked.
Sali ignored his question and breathed a sigh of relief when she realized Amy wasn’t going to offer an answer either. Her entire past was rooted in the soil of dark secrets, secrets she had decided to never share with Steve. But fate and circumstance had made that decision impossible to keep. The secret was big so the lie would have to be even bigger to cover it, and everyone knew that the details of all lies were written on a breeze. Each time she was asked about her past, the lies she told would change just enough to raise questions—if not serious doubt. Lying was not a viable option. Neither was sharing a condensed version of the truth. The type of secrets she was keeping were of the all or nothing variety. Answering one was like buttering one-quarter of a slice of toast, a start, but not enough to satisfy. If she shared one she’d have to share them all, and that wasn’t an option either.
“There’s Chinese take-out in the kitchen if you’re hungry,” Steve said.
She looked up to see Amy’s face wrinkle at the word “kitchen.”
“Thanks, maybe later,” Amy replied through a forced smile.
Sali looked to Steve as if he were a child in need of a reprimand.
He waved a hand in defeat. “Sorry.”
For a reason she couldn’t have explained, she became annoyed with his attitude. He breezed in carrying takeout, seemingly insensitive to their emotions, and acting as if today were just any old day. It annoyed her that he was oblivious to the dark cloud suspended over their heads.
They spent the next several minutes in silence, each staring at an inanimate object of their choice with fleeting glances at each other. Sali couldn’t recall a single time when she felt more uncomfortable in Steve’s company.
“You know, you really don’t have to babysit us. We’re big girls.” Her last sentence had barely crossed her lips when she realized it had come out with more sarcasm than she had intended.
“Babysit?” His eyes narrowed, but his expression was one of hurt. “And here I thought I was showing my support. What’s going on?”
“What? Nothing’s going on.” Sali stood, walked to the living room window, and pulled the curtains to the side just enough to peer out. When they swung back, she turned and said, “It’s just that this isn’t exactly fun or productive, and I know you have a lot to do before you leave. I’m sorry if my sensitivity isn’t in check. I didn’t mean anything by it.”
Amy looked between the two, but remained quiet.
The corners of his mouth may have turned up a bit; it happened so quickly she couldn’t be sure. He said nothing, but his stare crawled across her skin as she did her best to avoid making eye contact with him. He knew her too well, and she knew him well enough to know he wasn’t buying her on-the-fly excuses.
She was startled by another knock on the door, and the male voice that called out, “It’s Johnston.”
She turned on one foot and took long strides through the living room slowing down only when she reached the door. The first thing she noticed when she swung the door open was that for the first time, the gun strapped to his side was in view and his right hand was perched on his waist just below it. He studied her for a moment before relaxing his stance and allowing his jacket to fall to his side.
She questioned him with wide eyes.
He pointed toward the driveway, and said, “It looks like you have company.”
She stepped out of his way and motioned him in. “My fiancé… brought dinner….”
Unsure why she felt a sudden need to explain Steve to him, she simply returned to the living room while he followed without her having to ask him to.
Amy and Steve looked up as they entered. Sali said, “Detective Johnston, this is my fiancé, Steve Thatcher; Steve, this is Detective Johnston. He’s been handling the case.” She focused her attention on Steve, and said, “You don’t have to sit through this, I know you still have a lot to do. I can call you later.”
Steve turned his attention to Johnston as if expecting him to either argue or agree.
Finally, the detective said, “I don’t have an issue with his being here.”
She had been standing with her arms clutching her abdomen. She uncrossed them and waved one in front of her. “I’d prefer to talk in private… at least for now.” She looked directly at Steve. “You understand, don’t you?”
His eyes questioned her as she chewed on her bottom lip. She knew he was considering her request and deciding between leaving and demanding an explanation later, or staying and causing what could easily turn into a scene.
When he looked to the floor, she was able to let out the breath she’d been holding. His tongue was working furiously over the inside of his cheek, a sure sign he wasn’t happy. But she knew if he were going to say anything, he would have done so already.
He said his goodbyes and brushed a kiss on her cheek as he left the room, saying, “I’ll put the food in the fridge. Maybe you’ll be hungry later.”
She thanked him and took a seat in the accent chair closest to Amy.
Amy spoke first. “Have you learned anything more about our father?”
Sali looked toward the kitchen when she heard the refrigerator door close. When she turned back, Amy and Johnston were staring at her. No one spoke until they heard the click of the kitchen door.
“I apologize. I should have picked up on your signal sooner. Can I ask, why didn’t you want him here when we spoke?” Johnston asked.
She picked at the nail on her left thumb. “It’s just that…,” she paused and cast a glance to Amy. “I haven’t shared everything about my past with Steve. I have a few skeletons I’d prefer he didn’t meet quite yet.”
“Are you talking about the crime you thought you had committed? It’s irrelevant. Your father’s alive.”
Amy remained expressionless. There was still so much she didn’t know, and this wasn’t how Sali wanted her to find out. She began to work on another nail. “First, I’d appreciate it if you’d refer to him as Warren and not your father.”
Johnston looked between both women, and nodded in agreement.
“And unless something from more than twenty years ago pertains directly to what he’s done to Amy, I’d rather not discuss it.”
He pulled the same worn notebook he’d used during their first session from his jacket pocket. “I know this isn’t easy and you might even feel a bit like you’ve done something wrong the wa
y I keep coming at you with the questions. I assure you, if there were another way to get to the truth we’d be doing it. There’s no way of knowing which details are relevant until we have them all and piece them together.”
Sali prided herself of having been able to shield Amy from the dark side of life regardless of how much darkness she was forced to feel her way through, but at the moment, she had never felt more unable to help herself, let alone her sister. And she saw no way of helping the police without hurting the person she loved most.
She stood. “Detective Johnston, would you mind giving my sister and I a few minutes?”
His mouth opened, but he must have decided against whatever he had wanted to say. He stood, nodded, and disappeared into the kitchen. When she heard the door close, she knelt in front of Amy and took her hands into her own.
“I don’t know what to do.” Her throat tightened. “I would never intentionally hurt you, you know that, don’t you?”
Amy smiled. There was a softness in her eyes that caused Sali to bite back tears.
“A long time ago, things happened. Terrible things.” She took a deep breath, and continued. “We were just kids and I didn’t know how to tell you. Once we were older, I chose not to tell you. Amy, I swear, I always had your best interests at heart.”
Amy’s hands tightened around her own. “I’ve always known that.”
Sali brought their joined hands to her forehead and rested her head on them. “I have to tell Detective Johnston everything.”
“I know.”
She raised her head and looked into Amy’s eyes. “I hope you can forgive me for keeping so many secrets for so long.”
The first tear rolled over Amy’s lashes as she pulled her hands from Sali’s, and wrapped her arms around her sister’s neck.
After a few moments, Sali said, “I have to get this over with before I change my mind.”
Amy nodded, her teary eyes filled with confidence.
“How are you feeling? Are you up for it?” Sali asked as she looked her over.
