Count to Ten

by Karen Rose

  “It’s hard to miss. Big flashing neon sign over your head. ‘I like him. Stay back. He’s mine.’ Oh, I’ve finally hit a chord. You’re blushing. He’s hot, too, by the way.”

  Mia rolled her eyes. “Thank you.”

  Olivia sobered. “You’re welcome.” She turned to the fridge, opened it and stared inside, closed it again. “I’m impressed and resentful and jealous, all at once.” She turned back around and met Mia’s eyes. “Honest enough for you, big sister?”

  Mia nodded. “Yeah. But I’m not sure you’re going to like it when I return the favor.”

  Olivia drew a breath calmly. “All right.”

  “Your father is not the man you wish he was.”

  Her eyes flickered. “Nobody’s perfect.”

  “No, but Bobby Mitchell swung to the far left of the bell curve. He drank too much and he hit his kids.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “No.”

  “Yes. You know what I thought when I saw you tonight? That I was impressed and resentful and jealous all at once. You may have had nothing, but nothing was better than what we endured in that house.”

  “How can nothing be better than something?” Olivia asked bitterly.

  “I’m a fast healer, which is a good thing, because Bobby had big fists and he used them often. Not so much on me. Mostly on Kelsey. Stitches and broken bones and lies to doctors all over town.” Olivia’s eyes were horrified. “And that’s the truth.”

  “That’s...”

  “Horrible? Unbelievable? Irreconcilable?”

  “Yes. He can’t have...”

  “Been that bad? I’m lying?”

  She shook her head. “That’s not what I meant. Kelsey was a wild kid. Maybe...”

  Mia lurched to her feet. “Maybe she deserved it?”

  Olivia’s chin lifted. “She is in prison, Mia. On a plea.”

  “Yeah, she is. She ran away from home when she was -sixteen. Got mixed up with some bad people. She wasn’t lily white, but she wasn’t like them.”

  “But she did it. Look, she’s your sister. Of course you’d feel compassion for her.”

  Mia’s throat closed and her eyes filled. “You don’t know what I feel.”

  “You’ve been a cop long enough to know that people make choices. She chose to run away. And having a father beat her wasn’t justification for pulling a gun on a store clerk while her boyfriend killed two people. A father and a little boy are dead and Kelsey is responsible. Surely you can’t excuse that.”

  The blood was pounding in Mia’s head. Yep, little sister did read the papers, even the really old ones. “No, I don’t, and neither does Kelsey. You might be surprised to learn she hasn’t actively petitioned for her parole. She’ll serve her time until she’s done. And when she’s done she’ll have spent more than half her life behind bars.”

  Olivia looked surprised, but her jaw was still hard. “It’s what she deserves.”

  Mia’s lips curled. “You have no idea what she deserves. You know nothing.”

  Olivia’s eyes flashed fire. “I know she had a family. A house to live in. Food to eat. A sister who loved her. Which was more than I had and I didn’t turn out that way.”

  Something snapped. “Yeah, and you didn’t have a father who traded sex for protection, either.” As soon as the words came out of her mouth, Mia wished them back. “Goddammit,” she hissed.

  Olivia stood there, every ounce of color drained from her face. “What?”

  “Hell.” Mia grabbed the edge of the sink and hung her head but Olivia yanked her arm until she looked up.

  “What did you say?”

  “Nothing. I said nothing. We’re done. I can’t do this anymore.”

  “Is that what Kelsey told you?”

  Everything went still, the implied accusation of Kelsey’s lie hovering between them. “Yeah, that’s what she told me.” She swallowed. “And it’s what I know.”

  Olivia’s eyes were dark against her pale face. “That can’t be true.”

  “It’s true. Believe what you want about your father, but it’s true about mine.”

  Olivia took a step back, trembling. “Then why did you become a cop? Like him?”

  Like Olivia had, Mia realized and felt the pain of her loss as keenly as if it had been her own. “Not like him,” she said wearily. “I was raised around cops. Good, decent men. They had a sense of family I didn’t have. I wanted that. And, I -suppose I wanted to save kids like Kelsey since I couldn’t save her. There are so many out there like Kelsey. You’re a cop. You’ve seen them. I started helping kids like her, runaways. Then I got good at catching the bad guys who hurt them. Now, it’s what I am. It’s all I am.”

  “I’m sorry.” Tears slid down her cheeks. “I didn’t know.”

  “You couldn’t have known and I didn’t want you to. I thought I could make you understand what kind of man he was without knowing. But I didn’t want you to grieve a man who wasn’t worth spit on his grave. Or feel inferior because he didn’t choose you.”

  “I need to go.” She backed up, grabbed her coat and scarf. “I need to go.”

  Mia watched her run out the front door. Flinched at the slam. Then pulled the pizza from the oven. She wanted to throw it. But it wasn’t her kitchen. It was Lauren’s kitchen with the pretty framed cross-stitched teapots and flowers with the “CS” in the corner. Made by Reed’s wife. Whom he’d never found anyone good enough to replace.

  Including me. Trembling, she carefully placed the pan on the stovetop and turned on the water, then the garbage disposal. Then under the cover of noise, let herself cry.

  Reed stood at the window, his heart thundering in his chest. Dear God. His life before the Sollidays had been dark and dank and dismal. He’d been hungry and afraid. His mother had used her fists. But this. He’d been afraid of this last night. She’d denied it too forcefully. Her father had molested his daughters. Rage bubbled with hate and Reed would have liked nothing more than to resurrect Bobby Mitchell so he could kill him again. But that wasn’t what Mia needed. He watched her shoulders heave as she cried and his own eyes stung. She’d do this. Cry so that nobody would hear. Nobody would come. Nobody would help.

  She’d accept his help tonight. He opened the door, set the glass bowl on the stove, turned off the disposal and the water, then turned her into his arms. She stiffened, tried to pull away, but he held her firmly until her fingers curled into his shirt, hanging on.

  Gently he pulled her across the kitchen, sat down and pulled her into his lap where her arms came around his neck and she clung, weeping so pitifully he thought his own heart would break. He held her tight, rocked her, kissed her hair until her tears were spent. She sagged against him, her forehead pressed against his chest so her face was hidden. It was her last defense and this he’d leave her.

  She was quiet for a long time. “You were listening again.”

  “I came to bring you meat loaf. I can’t help it that the walls are thin.”

  “I should be mad at you. But I don’t seem to have enough mad left.”

  He ran his hands up and down her back. “I’d kill him if he weren’t already dead.”

  “You don’t understand.”

  “Then tell me. Let me help you.”

  She shook her head. “We made a deal, Solliday. This is way too many strings now.”

  He lifted her chin, made her look at him. “You’re hurting. Let me help you.”

  She held his eyes. “It’s not what you think. He never touched me.”

  “Kelsey?”

  “Yeah.” She stood, walked to the back door and stared out the window. “I remember the day I understood that Bobby would never change. I was fifteen and he was drunk. Kelsey had done something and he’d already belted her once. I begged him not to hurt her anymore and he made me a deal.” She paused, then sighed. “He put his arm around me... Somehow I knew. He said if I did it, he’d leave Kelsey alone.”

  Reed swallowed hard. “You didn’t.”

  “No, I di
dn’t. Instead I busted my ass to get a scholarship by day. I took one of his guns and slept with it under my pillow at night. He’d been so drunk, I didn’t think he even remembered he’d said it, but I was taking no chances. I tried to tell Kelsey to be careful, to watch out, not to antagonize him but she wouldn’t listen. She hated me then. Or so I thought.” She turned abruptly. “Do you know the meaning of sacrifice, Reed?”

  “I don’t know how to answer that.”

  Her mouth curved bitterly. “Wise answer. See, I always thought I escaped the big beatings because I was faster than Kelsey. Because I was somehow better. Smarter. I didn’t antagonize him. He left me alone. What Kelsey didn’t tell me until a few years ago was that he’d made the same proposition to her.” She lifted her brows and said no more.

  “Oh my God,” he breathed, unable to fathom it. “Oh, Mia.”

  “Yeah. All the time I was telling her to straighten and fly right, to stop provoking him... all that time...” Her voice broke. “She did it. For me. Until I was gone to college. Then she ran away with a punk named Stone and ruined her life. Now she’s in prison. Olivia was right. Kelsey did it. But I have to ask if she would have if things had been different. If the tables had been turned, would she be the cop? Would I be in jail?”

  “You wouldn’t have. You couldn’t have.”

  “And you don’t know that,” she said, fury giving her voice a hard edge. “I’ve listened to you debate nature versus nurture with Miles all week and I’m here to tell you it’s not that easy, Reed. Sometimes people go wrong, when if things were different they would have gone right. You said yourself you nearly ended up in a place like Hope Center. What if you had? What if the Sollidays hadn’t taken you in? Where might you be?”

  “I never broke the law,” he said tightly. “Even when I was hungry, I never stole a penny. What I am, I made.”

  “And the Sollidays had nothing to do with that.”

  “They gave me a home. I did the rest.”

  She looked at him, something close to contempt in her eyes and he felt compelled to make her understand. “I’d been a runaway for three years, off and on. I met up with some kids who stole purses. I never did. Then one day one of them did and threw the purse to me. The lady screamed I’d done it and called the cops. I almost got hauled in, but a bystander went to bat for me. She’d seen the whole thing and swore I was innocent. Her name was Nancy Solliday. She and her husband took me.”

  “And I’m grateful to them,” she said quietly, her eyes calmer now. “But Reed, realistically, how long would you have lasted on the streets?”

  “I would have found any other way.”

  “Okay. Look, I appreciate the shoulder, but I need some time to myself right now. I haven’t run in days, so I’m going around the block a few times.”

  She’d closed the subject again. “What about your dinner?” he asked.

  “I’ll heat something up later.” She kissed his cheek. “Thank you. I mean that. I’ll call you when I’m back.”

  Reed sat while she ran upstairs to change her clothes. She went straight out without saying another word, leaving him to stare at the kitchen walls. Christine had decorated this room, like she’d decorated all the others. Beauty, elegance with enough hominess to balance the effect. Left up to Mia, the room would have a microwave, a toaster oven for her Pop-Tarts, and a stack of paper plates.

  He got up to put away the food, wondering how much more a man really needed.

  Friday, December 1, 9:15 P.M.

  Mia rounded the block, headed for Solliday’s house for the second time. When she looked at apartments -tomorrow, she’d look in nice old neighborhoods like this. At least three dog walkers had smiled and waved as she ran by. It was in marked contrast to her own neighborhood, where no one made eye contact, or the neighborhood where little boys peeked out their blinds and no one had any idea who their neighbors were. Which made her remember that she’d forgotten to tell Solliday that his hunch on pet shops may prove profitable after all. She pulled out her cell phone to check on Murphy’s status when she saw something strange.

  One of the bedroom windows in Solliday’s house slid up and a dark head poked out and looked both ways. Then a body followed the head and shimmied down the tree outside her window as if it were a firepole. Looked like Beth -Solliday was going to her party after all. Kelsey used to do that, she recalled. Climb out the window and meet God-knew-who and do God-knew-what. But Beth, honey, you will not.

  Beth straightened her coat, pulled on her gloves and took off at a run across backyards, taking fences like a pro. Keeping her distance, Mia followed.

  Friday, December 1, 9:55 P.M.

  “You’re late,” a girl with a ring in her nose hissed and pulled Beth inside. “You almost missed your slot.” That, Mia supposed, would be the infamous Jenny Q.

  Mia had followed Beth downtown on the El to some kind of club called the Rendezvous. The kid had been damn hard to keep up with. She should be running track.

  Beth took off her coat. “I had to wait. My dad went next door and I kept thinking he’d come back, but he didn’t. I guess he’s there for the night again.”

  Again? So much for discretion, Mia thought. Solliday thought his daughter was innocent. Well, she hadn’t gone to a party but she’d sneaked out. Mia wasn’t sure what this place was. It wasn’t a bar, because no one was carding. It had a stage and about fifty little tables where a diverse group lounged. Jenny and Beth disappeared into the crowd, but when Mia tried to follow a man tapped her arm.

  “Ten bucks, please.” His badge said he was security. He didn’t look like a druggie.

  She dug in her pocket, pulled out her emergency twenty. “What’s going on here?”

  He made change and handed her a program. “It’s competition night.”

  “And who’s competing?”

  He smiled. “Anybody who wants to. You want me to see if there’s any slots left?”

  “No. No thank you. I’m looking for someone. Beth -Solliday.”

  He checked his sheet. “We have a Liz Solliday. You’d better hurry. She’s on now.”

  Feeling like Alice in Wonderland, Mia hurried in. The lights dimmed and a spotlight lit center stage. And out walked Beth Solliday in a leather miniskirt amid polite applause.

  “My name is Liz Solliday and the title of my poem is ‘casper,’” she said.

  Poem? Mia held her program up to the red glow of the exit sign and blinked. Whatever the hell Slam Poetry was, Beth had made the semifinals. As soon as Beth opened her mouth, Mia understood why. The girl had a presence on the stage.

  did I mention that I live with a ghost?

  we’ll call her casper

  she follows me

  staring at me

  her eyes?y eyes?er eyes

  she’s stolen my eyes

  my dad, he’s the one who invited her in

  sometimes when he looks at me he winces

  like he sees her?hen it’s only me

  and i’m willing to bet he wishes

  he could make a trade if only for one day

  Casper was Christine. Mia’s throat closed, but Beth’s voice was strong. Like music. And as she spoke, her words touched the very place Mia hurt the most.

  i’m just the doppelganger

  reminding the world of the better version that once was

  flitting through my father’s life

  almost invisible

  her eyes darker

  every day mine fade a little more

  every day my purpose less certain

  until i wonder who’s the ghost

  and who just deserves better

  The spotlight dimmed and Mia let out a breath. Wow. Grateful for the darkness, she wiped her cheeks dry. Reed’s daughter had a gift. A beautiful, exquisite gift.

  Mia stood up. And Reed’s daughter was in trouble. One hell of a lot of trouble. She pushed in her chair and went to find Liz, who had a great deal of explaining to do.

  Friday, December 1, 10
:15 P.M.

  He was still out there, the man cop. The lady had driven away hours ago. He didn’t know what to do. Yes, he did, but he was so scared.

  But police were your friends. His teacher had said so. If you’re in trouble, you can go to the police. He turned from the window and sat on his bed. He’d think about it. He could tell the cops and maybe he would come back and hurt them. But maybe he would anyway. The lady on the news said he’d killed people, which he believed.

  I can wait for him to come and get me and be afraid for the rest of my life, or tell and hope the police really are my friends. It was a scary choice. But at seven years old, the rest of his life was a really long time.

  Friday, December 1, 10:45 P.M.

  Beth edged closer to the window as the El carried them home. I am so dead. Her stomach rolled every time she thought about what her father would do. She chanced a glance at Mitchell, who sat quietly, arms crossed. Beth could see the bulge of her holster through her sweat jacket. She had a gun. Well, she was a cop.

  She still couldn’t believe the woman had followed her. Followed her, for God’s sake. It had been the moment she’d dreamed of, stepping off the stage to all that applause. And not polite applause, either. The real thing. Jenny Q and all the group had been there, jumping up and down and hugging her. And then she’d looked up and seen Mitchell standing off to the side, brows lifted. She’d said nothing, but Beth’s heart had dropped into her feet. It was still somewhere down around her gut.

  I am so dead. Her choice had been clear. Leave quietly or the cop would cause a scene. So here she was, chugging on the El toward home and certain doom.

  “Believe it or not, that was the first time I ever did anything like that,” she muttered.

  Mitchell looked at her from the corner of her eye. “What, slam poetry or shimmying down a tree to gallivant all over town when your father told you to stay home?”

  “Both,” Beth said glumly. “I am so dead.”

  “You could have been, going downtown by yourself this time of night.”

  Beth’s eyes jerked to Mitchell’s face. “I’m not a kid. I know what I’m doing.”

  “Uh-huh. Okay.”

  “I do.”

  “Okay.”