Red Ochre Falls

by Kristen Gibson

  The expressions on their faces made it hard to determine if they were about to ground me, or launch into a full-blown intervention.

  “Who was that guy?” Jos asked.

  “Somebody who worked with Chloe,” I said, not knowing how much to reveal. Tom was suspicious, and he thought someone was watching him, so I explained he was a co-worker expressing his condolences.

  I made an effort to appear relaxed, but if anyone looked closely at me they’d see cracks in the facade.

  Garrett studied me briefly. “It’s almost time for the service.” For a moment there was a faraway look in his eyes, but there was so much noise in my head I didn’t ask.

  Jos knew I was a bundle of emotions. Heck, we all were. But having to bury a friend only 18 months after burying my grandma felt so tragic. Death wasn’t supposed to make sense—the finality a mystery, maybe meant to remind the living to appreciate even the most difficult days.

  We moved back into the viewing room and sat a couple rows back and diagonally from the Ellis Family: Chloe’s mom, dad, and younger sister sat up front.

  Ryder gave a brief welcome speech then yielded the podium to the minister from Chloe’s church. He mixed religious scriptures with anecdotes in a personalized speech. He told us all how he’d watched her grow from a precocious child into an accomplished young adult. It sounded beautiful, but I tuned it out to avoid bawling.

  I stared at the floor, at the decorations, the wallpaper, and the flowers. Everything looked opulent and polished, but Chloe looked like a plastic doll sleeping in the coffin, lovely and lifeless.

  How could someone kill another person? This, in my mind, was how it boiled down. Someone had killed Chloe, and they must have had a reason. I couldn’t imagine killing could come easily, so it must have been driven by fear, anger, revenge, or something big.

  Chloe wasn’t the violent type, so it probably wasn’t done out of self-defense. In fact, it seemed more likely to be out of greed, or passion. Chloe was not the silent type. If she thought someone was doing something wrong, she would have spoken up. Maybe using her voice, or threatening to, was what got her killed. I needed to find out more about the secret files she hid, and how I figured into this mess.

  A stifled cry came from Chloe’s little sister, and sent the room reeling. Jenny was up at the podium sharing stories, and telling us Chloe was a great sis, and how she missed her so much it hurt.

  My sadness morphed into anger for what Jenny had been through, and her unbearable loss. Jos squeezed my arm reassuringly, but bitterness and determination took over. It was a lucky thing the pastor stepped in and started the prayers, or I might have screamed like a banshee and fled out the back door before the service was over. Instead, I waited anxiously until Garrett and Ryder gave final departure instructions and dismissed us.

  Jos was on my heels after I left. “I can drive.” She wasn’t asking.

  I shook my head yes, grabbed my bag, and pulled out a couple extra tissues before heading outside. The storm that looked like it was directly above us earlier must have pushed east, because the air was calmer, and the sun peered through the clouds above.

  The procession wove its way through the city and into a slice of adjacent country that looked like summer fields from another time. Chloe’s messages started replaying in my mind.

  Her first was an innocuous call to ‘catch-up’ then a text, and another call. Each time the urgency increased, which I might have noticed had I been paying any sort of real attention to her. To me, it seemed like her usual drama over increasing work pressures, or Tab—I’d seen the cycle of abuse and washed my hands of it when I left school.

  I assumed Chloe was in the same cycle as before, so I dismissed her easily. How could she complain about those things when mom was recovering from heart surgery, and neither of us had a job?

  Turned out she wasn’t calling to go over her usual set of problems; she called to get help. How stupid and self-absorbed could I have been? I’d abandoned my friend and failed her.

  The scent of late summer filled my nostrils as Jos put the windows down. We were almost there, wherever there was.

  We hung a right near a creek. Then wandered back and forth until reaching the spot. The hearse pulled over, and the rest of us parked behind it half-on, half-off a stretch of dirt road adjacent to the burial plot.

  The cemetery workers had been busy. The headstone was in place, and the grave dug. We watched as Ryder and Garrett unloaded the coffin and the pallbearers carried it to the site.

  The congregation slowly made its way to Chloe’s grave. A few chairs were placed up near the casket for the family, and the frail. Two vibrant sprays of flowers flanked the casket, and several buckets of yellow roses were placed around the site, while a tent covered the whole circus. More kind and spiritual words were uttered as she levitated in her wooden state above ground.

  I stared into the pit. I’d never noticed it before, but there was a metal insert, the shape and size of the grave, in the ground. It dawned on me, the rusted iron was put in place so the weight of the earth wouldn’t collapse the grave, or crush the casket before it was lowered. I wondered how many holes the gravediggers had dug. Looked like a lot from here.

  What happened after we left and the dirt was replaced? It wasn’t as if there were underground cameras or monitors to watch the dead. Although, I bet someone, somewhere already had that kind of hookup.

  Occasionally, my eyes lifted to give a suspicious glance as relatives, friends, and acquaintances showered her casket with roses. How could this happen? Who did it? Chloe couldn’t have. Was it someone she knew?

  The trees stood tall and green, with hints of yellow and orange to signal the coming change. I took a final look at the casket then stepped forward to say goodbye. Before the tears could flow, I let the flower fall and turned to leave.

  In slow motion, I walked past the graves of strangers and family members, past the cars, and back to the creek. Most likely a tributary from the Ohio. I sat down, pulled my dress over my knees, buried my head in the fabric and began to cry.

  The pain was raw. Part of it remained from grandma’s funeral, part of it was attributed to a very real fear over mom’s condition—why wasn’t she back from her trip yet? Most of it was overpowering guilt blotched with anxiety. Time ticked by while tears flowed and ebbed. I sat alone and cursed death.

  “Wanna talk about it?” Jos sat down next to me.

  I shook my head no, and we sat wordless for a while.

  My eyes hurt from crying, but I could see, with some effort, this was a beautiful place. The sun glimmered through breezy leaves, and dotted the landscape.

  “I called your mom,” Jos broke the silence.

  “You what?”

  “Your mom, I called her. She needed to know you were hurting.”

  “But, Jos—”

  “Lord knows you weren’t going to tell her.” Jos was right. I’d have been on the deck of the Titanic saying everything was fine, even as it sank, if it meant mom wouldn’t have a reason to worry. We sort of played this game of stoicism from time to time. Mostly, it was just a delay tactic, because inevitably we’d break down and share whatever bothered us. It always made us feel better to talk. But, we had a habit of doing the same song and dance before we could get it out.

  I smiled at her. “You’re a good friend.”

  “Are you off duty for a while?”

  “I think so, but I better check.”

  “Good, then let’s go see Mr. Gorgeous. Be serious, or bat your eyelashes. Whatever. Just tell him you’ve earned a break, okay? Now, let’s get out of here,” she helped me up off the ground. “And I’m a great friend.” No arguments there.

  Garrett was concerned and already looking for us when we ran into him. There was no problem getting time to grab a bite with Jos. I thanked him, and promised to be back, and check in, by 7 pm. The tires kicked up stones and dirt when we pulled away.

  Driving was a blur. Thank goodness Jos offered to do it. We he
aded toward the horizon with the windows down, listening to the air whipping through the car. There wasn’t a coherent thought in my head for the half hour it took her to find a restaurant. She told me ahead of time she’d pay, knowing I’d worry about how to do it myself. Like I tended to do about so many things these days. Instead, my senses absorbed the scenery: glorious and bright, with the wood-smoke scent of harvest time.

  Hitting a diner, in my opinion, was the perfect way to end a funeral day. Diner food is comfort food, and we needed a big dose of food and comfort.

  I skipped my usual breakfast order, and opted for grilled cheese. Jos didn’t have to twist my arm much to get me to order a shake, too.

  We sat, sipped then ate. Nothing was off-limits. We talked about everything from families and school, to tragedies, and work, which was its own tragedy for me. As I lamented the short supply of high-wage jobs for people with my skills, Jos eyed me funny.

  “Your mom is coming back in a couple days.”

  I gave her an incredulous look. “It would have been nice if she’d told me herself.” I took a draw off my black and white, a divine concoction of chocolate and vanilla ice creams blended together then topped with a pile of whipped cream and chocolate shavings. The only thing that might have made it better was Kahlua. Only, I needed to keep a clear head if I was going to get any research done later.

  “She’ll tell you next time you call. You were sort of busy with the funeral. She told me when I called.”

  “When did you call her?”

  “Right before I ran into Garrett.”

  “You mean when you guys were talking about my sanity after you spoke with mom?”

  She laughed. “Mattie, he was concerned. You’re a strong person, but sometimes even strong people need help. I only told him what seemed relevant.”

  I eyed her suspiciously.

  “You know I’m right.” Jos held her ground, and we both dug into the food as soon as the plates hit the table.

  I was pleasantly full when the conversation picked up.

  “Are you okay?” Jos asked.

  “In what way?”

  “Start at the top, and work your way down.”

  “I’m worried. Mom doesn’t sound right, guys are stalking me, strangers are giving me clues into Chloe’s death, but everything feels weird.”

  “Maybe it’s the jalapenos you put on your grilled cheese.”

  “Ha, ha,” I mocked. “Not what I meant. But they’ll probably come back to haunt me tonight.”

  “So, tell me Indiana Jones, what clues did you get?” Jos sat up to sip her shake.

  “Indiana, huh? I wish. Indy gets golden idols and global adventures; I got a LEGO keychain, and a crumpled paper with a Michigan address.”

  “Michigan could be interesting. What’s the plan? Give everything to the cops?”

  “There is an officer I trust, but I’m not sure it’s a good idea to give these up yet.”

  “You aren’t planning to investigate this yourself?”

  “No, of course not.” I feigned indignation, but secretly knew she was right, going it alone was exactly what I’d considered. Jos had been at the top of my list of sidekicks until she made that comment. I hadn’t exactly made up with my friends since returning to the city. Who had time? We were settling into a new place and I had responsibilities.

  So, I would do it myself, except it would be smarter to have back up. Someone strong, reliable, and available. Garrett was strong and reliable, I wasn’t sure about available, but two out of three would do. Whether it was a good idea, or not, we’d find out.

  Even with the key, it might not be totally legal, or safe to get into Chloe’s. Maybe I could beg him to help me. No, lure him with a promise to train like a soldier—it shouldn’t be too hard once he realized how much help I needed. Being a Special Ops guy, he’d be ready to poke holes in any plan I offered, so it needed to be a good one.

  “You’ve got that look in your eyes,” Jos said, and I snapped back to reality.

  “What look?” I drank more shake.

  Jos shook her head. “Whatever you’re up to, make sure to keep me in the loop. You know, in case you need help, or bail.”

  I smiled and sat my glass down.

  She paid, I tipped, and we left.

  Jos told me all the ways she barely survived her family visit on our ride home. We wound through back roads as daylight slipped away. I laughed at the pranks her younger cousins pulled. The boys (now teenagers) couldn’t get their grandpa to fall for the plastic wrap over the toilet seat trick, but they did get Jos. She wasn’t happy they also froze her bras while she went swimming. She set them out to thaw. The boys found them and froze them again—she ended up in her bathing suit most of the weekend, to keep things G-rated.

  Jos noticed my relaxed state just as we hit the city.

  “You should come with me.”

  “Next year?”

  “No, tomorrow.”

  “Where?”

  “The farm.”

  “What’s at the farm? All night euchre tourney?” I asked, knowing her family’s most epic card games lasted for days.

  “Hay Bales. Hundreds of ‘em.”

  “What do I need with hay bales?”

  “They need painted for the Harvest & Hayrides event.”

  My eyes rolled back into my head.

  “It’ll be fun. Besides, you need a change of scenery.” This was true. “If it helps, it’s a paying gig.” She smiled then turned onto Vine.

  Jos made good arguments.

  “If someone’s at the parlor and will cover the phones, I can do it.”

  “Deal,” she said quickly.

  “What did you do, Jos?”

  “I already cleared it with Mr. Handsome.”

  “Jos!” Embarrassment lit my face.

  “C’mon, he’s totally cool with it.”

  If I was going to be taken seriously, I needed to calmly take back my schedule. “Jos—”

  “It’s settled then?”

  “Do I have a choice?”

  “Not in this matter,” she said, and we both got quiet.

  The ‘home’ was lit up the way it was every night there wasn’t a late viewing. One spot lit the stone block engraved with the McKenzie name at the entrance, and several outside lights glared around the building to keep away the unwanted—most of them, anyway.

  We looked at the lot surrounding the car. I noticed a lit cigarette in a group of nearby tenants, maybe co-eds, hanging out.

  “You want me to go in with you?” Jos asked.

  Everything else looked secure, and there were no ghosts or goblins I could see, so I told her no.

  “It should be fine. I’ll text you when I’m inside.”

  “Okay. Have a good night, and try to get some rest.”

  “Will do. You do the same. And watch yourself getting out of here. It’s steeper than you think, and everybody speeds, so gun it.”

  “Got it. Hey, call me in the morning. I have some job ideas.” My face crumpled a little thinking about work. “I’ll bring coffee,” she sang.

  “Sounds good.”

  I got out with my keys ready. One of the parking lot crew let out a screech, which sent me sprinting to the door. The lock tumbled, and the door opened and shut as fast as my human body could make it happen. After locking the door, my heart thumped away. I pulled out my phone and texted Jos, but it took some effort to settle enough to type.

  The next order of business was to grab the latest paperwork, and head upstairs.

  That’s funny. There was no paperwork on the stairs. Ryder told me there was a new one coming in from Hospice tonight. Usually, someone leaves us a copy of the information so we see it on our way up to the apartment.

  I looked at the stairs again then at the floor to see if the paper had fallen. Nothing. My nervous energy was still elevated, but I figured Ryder ran out of time to do a formal write-up. I headed for the office to grab his notes.

  Halfway down the hall,
I noticed one of the desk lamps lit. I stopped moving. Before I could turn, Manny saw me. “Hey. You looking for something?”

  It didn’t sound like Sledge was in the office with Manny.

  Alarm bells were going off in my head. “Yeah, um, yes. Paperwork on the new guy.”

  “I think there’s some paperwork over here,” he said, and started moving stuff around on the desks with his eyes trained on me.

  I planned to run, but needed to get a head start, which I couldn’t do with him staring me down.

  “It might be on Hank’s desk,” I said, hoping he would move away from the doorway. Instead, Manny slithered toward me.

  “You know, it could have been propped between the balusters. I’ll go check.” I turned to leave, but Manny ran up to block me. Even putting his arm on mine to stop me.

  “Where are you going? I think what you’re looking for is in there,” he pointed to the office.

  “It’s time for me to leave,” I insisted, wishing I’d never come this way. Why didn’t I just go to the apartment and lock myself in when I got home?

  “Nah, why not hang out with me?” He grinned, standing way too close for comfort.

  “Manny, it’s—”

  “It’s time to go,” Sledge was stern. Relief washed over me when I noticed Garrett walking along side him. They came to where we were standing, and Sledge put his arm on Manny’s shoulder, firmly. “C’mon.”

  Manny looked disappointed. “Maybe we’ll catch up some other time.” And like that, he and Sledge were on their way out the door. “She’s looking for some kind of paperwork,” Manny said over his shoulder, like he was trying to help all along. Not as if he’d just scared the crap out of me.

  I steadied myself, and waited for them to leave.

  “Sorry about them,” Garrett said.

  “Hazard of the job, right?” Trying not to sound shaken.

  “Some days I’m not sure if he’s psycho, or really that weird. You didn’t text, and it’s—” Garrett looked at his watch then blushed, “it’s almost seven.” He gently twisted his fingers around mine. “Everything okay?”

  “Not really, but it’s getting better.”

  He moved me to the office, where we picked up the paperwork on our Hospice client. He shared a brief overview of Mr. Newton, and a recap of the business.