Eyeshine

by Cy Wyss

  “I’m sorry about the accident, but I’m glad Alex is okay.” PJ looked Alex in his big hazel eyes that had lashes long enough to make any woman acutely jealous. He dropped his gaze to the floor and made a faint bleating sound.

  Alex’s mom grabbed his arm and led him toward the door. “We’re not saying anything about it. Come on, Alex.”

  Alex’s face fell, and he made another goat-like grumble.

  “Well, see you back at the Hills,” PJ said as they left.

  PJ turned her attention to Liam, who had just come out of his office at the end of the hall. Instead of coming her way, he headed away from her, into the break room. PJ stood alone for a while, then headed over to Jazmin’s counter. “So Liam’s representing Alex and his mom? Why do they even need a lawyer?”

  Jazmin pulled her movie-star glasses down her nose and peered at PJ over them. “Why does anyone need a lawyer? The police, if they are after you, they will get you.”

  PJ frowned. She stared at the countertop in front of Jazmin. “I thought it was an accident.”

  “I know; that’s what you called it.”

  “What?”

  “You said ‘accident’ from the beginning. But other people aren’t so sure. Especially other people of the law enforcement variety.”

  “What else would it be?”

  The women stared at each other for a couple of heartbeats. Then PJ gasped. “Jazmin. They’re not saying Alex had anything to do with Chip Greene falling in the water, are they?”

  The corners of Jazmin’s lips turned downward. “I am afraid there is a real tragedy in the making here.”

  Liam’s deep voice came from the mouth of the hall as he approached them. “Jazmin, are you finished with the depositions yet?”

  “Oh, I will be shortly, sir.” Jazmin blushed, a tinge of red touching the tops of her brown cheeks. She replaced her glasses and applied herself to her computer.

  PJ turned toward Liam. He said, “Hello, PJ, my beautiful friend. How are you?”

  He took PJ briefly in his arms, and they kissed on both cheeks. PJ was lost momentarily in his familiar aftershave, undertones of juniper and pine with a hint of mint. Memories of her decades with Liam shot through her subconscious at the recognition of that aftershave, and she was flooded with a deep sense of nostalgia, of unrequited love and missed opportunity.

  They had grown up together, and she had seen him transform from a scrawny, dirty-blond scamp with curious blue eyes and a chip on his shoulder into a strapping young man with an immovable sense of justice who wanted to dedicate his life to something of tangible good. Now he was thirty, like PJ, and working like a dog for the people of Indianapolis so they wouldn’t be crushed under the weight of a legal system designed to uplift the haves at the expense of the have-nots. A system supported by endless fees and retainers and plea bargains, where money was freedom and no money meant jail.

  PJ and Liam had been engaged ten years previously when Liam was a dedicated university student, burning himself out at both ends for his law degree. They had even made it to the altar, right to Peck Chapel on the university campus, where everything had gone wrong from the start. Of course PJ needed the cover of daylight, but relatives were flying in, and the earliest they could start the ceremony would be two in the afternoon on a cloudy March day. Everyone was late, including PJ. By the time the vows were being exchanged, the sun was angled terrifyingly low, and long shadows lit the stained glass images, patches of red, gold, and green falling on PJ’s worried face at the altar. In retrospect, she figured she must have been completely out of her mind to accept Liam’s proposal. At twenty, she was still under the impression she could somehow have half a normal life. These days, at thirty, she laughed at herself. How naive she had been.

  The sun had dipped, the priest had droned on, the guests were still arriving, and right as the words “I do” were about to leave her lips, she felt the change coming and knew she had seconds to decide. Show everyone who she was or run—run full tilt, heels flying, down the aisle, out the side door, away from the chapel, and into the parking lot where Liam found her wedding dress behind a brown Camero. To him, it must have seemed she was shedding him, shedding their interrupted vows and the life they’d imagined together. Literally shedding his love and abandoning him, running naked through the campus, not to be found that night or for several days afterward until she appeared at his house in the rain, bawling and penitent, finally explaining she couldn’t commit and should have never promised in the first place, but she wouldn’t love anyone else.

  His vast sense of good in the world was the only thing that saved PJ and kept Liam from slamming the door in her face or strangling her on the stoop. They cried together for hours, until she had to run away once again because sunset was coming. She spent weeks hating herself and cursing her gift. He spent weeks lost in studying, seeing no one, not even his horrified parents who had warned him about the capriciousness of orphans. Once abandoned, always to abandon, they had told him. Liam refused to believe this, even after it happened. His angst merged with the charitable nature of his soul until he saw them as one and the same: forgiveness to PJ was forgiveness to the world of unfortunates, and he would strive endlessly to help them until one day he would save them all and there would be no need for anyone to abandon anyone else ever again. At least, that was the twenty-year-old’s hope. By thirty, Liam was more hardened, with a streak of gray in his darkening hair. He remained, however, a perpetual optimist, a fount of moral good, and one of the bulwarks of PJ’s world.

  She said, “How’s Rose? And the kids?”

  Liam had recovered, as had PJ. He had found a woman who did not jilt him at the altar and instead provided him with a warm home and three children, two boys and a cute little girl. He’d been waiting for a girl, and Annabeth was now almost two.

  “Little Beth is a terror and drives her mom completely nuts. The girl rips up the carpets and destroys the boys’ Lego towers so they’ll scream when they get home.”

  PJ laughed. “That’ll teach you the error of your ways.”

  “You mean the error of having kids so precious it makes my eyes water just to think about them?”

  “That’s the one.”

  He chuckled. “I’ll take it. It’s just a phase. She’ll get over it.”

  “Yeah, I’m sure she’ll be worse at three. Louder and stronger, too.”

  He snorted. “Probably. But it’s lunchtime. Did you notice that?”

  “I noticed.”

  “Let’s hit the sandwich shop a couple of doors down. I would take you somewhere more special, but I’ve got another meeting at one, so I won’t have time to drive anywhere.”

  * * *

  They settled into a booth at the back of the shop near the restrooms where they had a bit of privacy. In spite of their past, they still fell into a sense of pair-hood when they were together, a sense of them against the world. Always choosing seating with the most privacy and the ability to watch their surroundings was lingering evidence of that.

  PJ was wondering how to broach the subject of Alex when Liam said, “PJ, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about the Tate case.”

  PJ swallowed. “Me too.”

  “Okay, you first.”

  “Why does Alex even need you?”

  Liam’s hand went to his chin, and he rubbed it furiously. “What have you heard?”

  “Not much. But I was there. I saw what happened. Chip Greene fell in of his own accord, and Alex almost died trying to save him.”

  Liam’s eyes widened. “You were there?”

  “Well, I was up the hill and a ways south. But that’s what I thought I saw.”

  “Please tell me you have photo proof of that.”

  “I wish I did. I have nothing as of yet.”

  “Tell me what happened. From the beginning.”

  PJ told Liam her story about having light goggles and using them to become accustomed to moving around in the night. Then she reiterated that she saw Alex and Ch
ip from a distance.

  “Alex didn’t push him,” PJ said. “There was a shot, and I think it startled Chip, so he fell in. He dragged Alex in with him.”

  “Yet Alex managed to get out again.”

  “Mutt was with me. He ran over and pulled Alex from the water. Chip disappeared pretty fast.”

  “Where were you when Mutt was pulling Alex from the water? Did you call 911?”

  As always, PJ realized there were holes a mile wide in her story. She was starting to think she should get some throwaway phones and teach her cat self to dial 911 on them. Hadn’t she read that even if no one says anything, they can triangulate on the phone signal and the ambulances will come anyway? How she wished she’d had one that night. Instead of falling out of a tree and being washed away, she could have gotten some help. In all of her years of close scrapes and cat shenanigans, she’d never had anything to do with a death. Thieving teens or Peeping Janes were one thing; somebody actually dying was another.

  PJ fidgeted with her water glass. “I didn’t realize there was such a big problem. I got scared and went home, back to a safe place and the light.”

  Liam seemed lost in thought.

  PJ said, “What?”

  “Alex did seem to be talking about a big dog. I guess it was Mutt saving him that he meant. You know it’s hard to get anything out of him.”

  “Why are you telling me this? Aren’t you bound by privilege?”

  “I got special permission from Alex’s mom to use my judgment about what to tell you. You should know, though, that I won’t tell you anything I think would hurt them if it got out.”

  “Of course not. But Alex didn’t do anything wrong. Has he been arrested?”

  “Not yet, but the police want to question him. We’ve had an initial session that didn’t go well and we’ve got another appointment for tomorrow with your deputy friend.”

  “Vicky?”

  “That’s the one.”

  “How do you mean your questioning didn’t go well?”

  “Do you know Jake Tipton?”

  “He’s a detective in the Mayhap Police.”

  “Yes. Well, he seems to think the evidence shows Alex pushed Chip Greene into the water after Greene tried to shoot him with his pellet gun. They’re trying to get Alex to confess and plead self-defense.”

  “But that’s not what happened.”

  “PJ, tell me again what you saw.”

  PJ sighed. “I really didn’t get a good enough look to be sure. But the shot that everyone heard wasn’t from Chip. It came from the trailer park behind all of us.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “I’m sure it didn’t come from Chip’s direction.”

  “And you’re okay with testifying to all of this?”

  Cold fear shot down PJ’s spine. “Oh, gosh. Do you really think it’ll come to that?”

  “If it does, I’ll have to subpoena you. You might be our only hope.”

  “This whole thing is crazy.”

  “Tell that to Jake and Vicky.”

  PJ was silent. Their order number was called, and Liam got up to retrieve their sandwiches. When he came back, they ate in silence for several minutes.

  PJ wanted desperately to change the subject. “Are you going to the cookout this weekend?”

  Vicky and Curtis had a knack for inviting anyone in town at the center of any ongoing gossip or speculation. PJ figured that meant most of the major players in the recent incidents would be there. It might mean fireworks, which, in turn, would mean everyone tangential would definitely come, if for no other reason than the confrontation potential.

  “Probably,” Liam said. “I assume half the town will be there as usual?”

  PJ chuckled. “I’m sure people are coming out of the woodwork and randomly suggesting they be invited. But Vicky usually manages to keep it reasonable.”

  “Have you talked to Robert?”

  “Yes. He wants Alex to be more forthcoming. He thinks keeping silent is hurting your appearances.”

  “Of course he’d say that. He’s looking to arrest someone, not to help out an unfortunate autistic boy.”

  “I don’t think you give Robert enough credit.”

  As far as PJ could remember, there had always been conflict between Robert and Liam, especially when she and Liam were an item. Robert had been like a father to PJ and seemed to take the job very seriously when vetting any potential suitors.

  PJ always wondered at Robert’s opposition to Liam. She secretly thought it might be opposition to any boyfriend, arising from Robert’s deeply denied knowledge of PJ’s cat-ness and a resulting subconscious desire to protect her secret from everyone, including himself. Although PJ and Liam had been friends since they could walk and had dated for two years before their ill-fated engagement, Liam didn’t know about PJ’s second life. Sometimes PJ wondered how on earth she’d managed to keep it a secret all this time. It seemed blindingly obvious to her—the slip-ups in speaking, the close calls. Yet, she supposed, it was so far out of everyone else’s imagination that they couldn’t see it, even if it was in front of their faces. She was just a woman with an odd phobia of the dark and a propensity for telling good yarns, that’s all. Who would ever have thought any of that was because she was feline from sundown to sunup? No one. Especially not the two men closest to her in the world, apparently.

  Liam huffed, breaking PJ from her reverie. “Good old Robert. When he’s not pushing pencils, he’s arresting special-needs teenagers.”

  “Wow, that’s harsh.”

  Liam closed his eyes. “Sorry, PJ. That slipped out. I’ve been working a lot of overtime lately. The kids miss their dad, and it’s hard on me too.”

  PJ noticed then the fine lines around his eyes that seemed to have sprung up since she’d seen him last. When he opened his blue eyes once more and looked at her, she could see a fatigue in them, a dampening of his usual joie de vivre. Was it possible a life devoted to pro bono work was capable of draining even the great Liam? PJ didn’t want to think about that.

  She patted the hand lying on the table. “It’s okay. But you really need to take time for yourself too. And Rose and the kids.”

  “I know.” He half smiled, and PJ’s heart warmed.

  “Is there anything I can do to help?”

  “If you were to suddenly discover video of Chip’s accident and Alex’s rescue as it really happened, that’d be great. I mean, you usually have pictures of anything important in Mayhap.”

  “I’m not sure my sources will come through this time, but I can at least talk to Vicky and Jake and try to get them to see reason.”

  “Be careful, PJ. Those two might not ultimately be as friendly as you think they are.”

  — 9 —

  Cookout

  Vicky and Sheriff Curtis’s cookout partially turned into a wake. Invitees were encouraged to wear black and the house was opened up to anyone who wanted to come pay their respects to the guest of honor, Phil Greene. Phil was Chip’s half-brother and had come down from Wisconsin to see to his brother’s effects. Phil wore a dark tartan shirt and black trousers, had a full beard and mustache, and generally seemed a much more jovial and personable man than his half-brother, in spite of being subdued due to the circumstances. PJ liked him immediately.

  The usual ribs were accompanied by a large, generously apportioned buffet table and a dessert bar. PJ inhaled two servings of ribs, two plates of salad, and half a pie before Vicky cornered her and made her promise not to eat any more. PJ then switched to sweet iced tea and drank vast amounts to keep her complaining stomach full.

  Clara found out Chip Greene’s favorite color had, in fact, been green and insisted everyone at the wake don a green ribbon, corsage, necktie, or some other appropriate adornment. PJ wore her mother’s emerald pendant earrings. Jake Tipton found PJ near the punch table, and although he was wearing a bright green ribbon on his lapel PJ thought his eyes were all the gem-like green he needed. She blushed at the thought. How could any
man have such fantastic eyes?

  “Beautiful earrings, PJ.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Lucky they didn’t get stolen during your break-in.”

  “I know. But I hide my jewelry all over the house in odd places. My dad’s ring was the most obvious one, near the top of the coffee grounds in the tin on the counter. These were… well, much better hidden. I guess I won’t give away my other places. Unless you have a warrant.” PJ flashed Jake a broad smile.

  He laughed. “No such thing.”

  They watched Phil Greene playing foosball with Sheriff Curtis.

  “Terrible thing, this,” Jake said.

  PJ stared at his somber profile. “Yes. Are you investigating it?”

  He turned to her, his green eyes opaque. “Of course.”

  “Why?”

  He blinked several times. “What?”

  “Why do they have you investigating Chip Greene’s drowning?”

  “Because I’m a detective?”

  PJ gave his arm a playful slap.

  “Careful.” He chuckled. “Assaulting an officer will get you in very serious trouble.”

  “Uh-huh. I mean, why are they having you investigate the drowning when it was clearly an accident?”

  He stared at her for several moments. She became self-conscious and sucked back her entire glass of sweet iced tea in one go. She wished she had another piece of pie to hide behind.

  Jake said at last, “You sound awfully sure about that.”

  PJ hesitated. She really didn’t want to get into another discussion of how she was there. She knew her story was as thin as springtime ice. She hated all the half-truths her condition had her telling. She just hoped she could keep straight what she had told to whom.

  “I just can’t believe anyone’s responsible for it. Especially Alex Tate.”

  “You don’t think that boy hated Chip Greene like everyone else?”

  “Hate is too strong a word. Chip was a jerk, but I can’t imagine Alex doing anything intentionally.”

  “Hm.” Jake focused on taking a bite from the plate he was carrying.

  “What do you have against Alex, anyway?” PJ found herself staring at Jake with an odd feeling in her heart, suspicion mixed with doubt.