He glanced down at her with steely eyes. “You aren’t going to chicken out now. Besides, we’re doing the right thing. It’ll be okay. Trust me.”
Chapter Seven
By the time Kathryn Lincoln made it up the two flights of stairs to her apartment, she felt winded. Her steamy breath lingered in the air like a small cloud before being swept away by the wind. She fumbled with her keys while balancing the cellphone between her ear and shoulder.
“What did you say, Ryan?”
“I said are you alright?”
“Yeah.” She looked over the rail. “I think they added a few more steps out here.”
“Or it’s been another long day. You’re off tomorrow, right?”
The keys dropped from her fingers. When she stooped to pick them up, she caught a glimpse of the three legged dog meandering about in the parking lot. “Yes, thank god. Did I tell you Patricia is here?”
“Yes, you did. Want me to stay away?”
Kathryn snatched up the keys and wrinkled her brow. “If it’s not too much to ask. She kinda needs me.”
“I totally get it. I’ll cover for you, so just take the rest of the day off.”
“You sure?”
“Of course. Oh, can you fax over the highlights of your interview with Mr. Cutler? I’m still at the office sorting through paperwork.”
“Not a problem.” Kathryn turned the key in the knob. It was already unlocked. “Look, I haven’t had a partner since Selena. It’s good to be double teaming a case again. I’m just sorry I can’t be much help right now.”
“Hey, family first, am I right?”
Kathryn pushed the door open. “Absolutely.”
The inside of the apartment was quiet. A light illuminated the space around a table in the living room. Kathryn knew she hadn’t left one on because there was no telling how long she’d be gone. The job demanded a lot of her time, and sometimes the place would feel foreign to her when she returned.
“Pat?” She hung her coat up by the door and tossed the keys onto small shelf. “Are you here?”
A low moan shot through the stillness. It came from the kitchen.
Kathryn rounded the corner and found her sister curled up in a ball by the stove. Stringy blonde hair draped the floor like a spiderweb. She wore a long gray sweater and blue jeans with high heels. Even though the temperature of the apartment was a comfortable 72 degrees, Patricia’s whole body shivered.
“Jesus, Pat!” Kathryn grabbed a quilt from the hall closet and threw it over her sister. “How long have you been like this?”
“I puked.” Patricia’s voice was raspy.
Kathryn sat down next to her and brushed the hair out of her face. Bright green eyes gazed up at her, bloodshot and heavy. “Did you make it to the bathroom, or is there a mess somewhere I have to find?”
“I made it.” Patricia’s lips cracked when she gave a small smile. A sliver of blood spread across her lips. “Can I stay? Please?”
“Let me pull out the sleeper sofa. Did you have anything to eat?”
Patricia’s face wrinkled in disgust. “I ate yesterday. Just the thought of food makes me want to hurl.”
“What about water? You need to stay hydrated, especially if you’ve been vomiting.”
“Max left me.” She rolled onto her back and stared up at the ceiling. “Said he doesn’t need a strung out whore hanging around his place. Bad for his reputation, or some shit. He kicked me out, Kat. Didn’t even let me pack my stuff. I told him, I said I ain’t no whore and from now on he can fuck himself. Anyway, I had some money on me so I took a cab here.”
Kathryn sighed. “How much did you take?”
The question hung in the air before Patricia finally said, “None. That’s why I’m jonesing, man. I need a fix, you know? It’s just that I don’t want to anymore. I don’t want this to be who I am.”
“This is a hell of a place to detox.”
The smile returned. “Are you going to arrest me, Officer Kat?”
“No.” She leaned forward so that she was inches away from her sister’s face. “But it’s going to get a lot worse before it gets any better. We need to get you to a hospital. They can help more than I can.”
“Okay.” Patricia closed her eyes while Kathryn kissed her forehead. “Just let me stay the night. Please. Let me feel like I’m at home for once.”
“Oh, Pat.” Kathryn stood and looked down at her, folded beneath the blanket. “You are home.”
Chapter Eight
Kathryn brought a cup of hot tea and a bottle of aspirin on a tray. She sat at the edge of the sofa mattress, placing the tray on a side table. “Take two of these,” she said in a motherly tone. “Not the whole damn bottle. Just two.”
“No need to be an ass.” Patricia shifted underneath the covers so she could grab the cup. She sipped the tea gingerly. “God, my head is pounding.”
“Hence the aspirin.” Kathryn unscrewed the bottle and handed her sister two capsules. “Do you want the television on?”
“Why, do you have cable now?”
“No, but I think some soaps are about to start.”
“Like sand through the hourglass, these are the days of our lives,” Patricia said with a grin. She swallowed the capsules. “You can turn it on if you want. Just leave the remote where I can reach it.”
“I hate seeing you like this.”
Patricia’s eyes became a storm of sorrow. “I’m sorry. I can’t do anything right.”
“No, no. That isn’t true.” Kathryn held onto her hand. “What I meant was I don’t like seeing you sick. You’re my sister, you know? It’s my job to be worried about you. It’s in my DNA.”
“I’m going to stay clean this time. I swear. I’m barely even feeling it right now.” Every word poured from her mouth as though they were in a race to get out. “You don’t have to worry about me anymore, because I’m going to be just fine. You’ll see. I promise.”
Kathryn pursed her lips and noticed her sister’s hands shaking. “Take it easy, babe. Calm down. You need to relax while you can.”
Patricia blew her nose into a napkin. “Do you remember anything about Dad?”
“Barely.” Kathryn furrowed her brow at the abruptness of the question. “Wish I could forget all about him.”
“Why? Memories are all we have.”
“Because he wasn’t a nice guy. He wasn’t nice to mom. It’s good that he left.”
Patricia looked up at her in thought. “He wasn’t always bad. Remember when he took us camping that one summer? We pitched our tents close to those overgrown railroad tracks we swore must have been from the nineteenth century. Remember how he took us to the lake, taught us how to fish?”
“No.” Kathryn cocked an eyebrow. “He taught you how to fish, he showed me how to gut one. My ten year old self was totally grossed out. I haven’t thought about fish since, outside of Gordon’s Fish Sticks.”
“Oh! I remember that! It was so nasty.” Patricia giggled.
Kathryn’s face reddened from laughter. “Oh my god, he just sliced it open and pulled out the innards right in front of me! And that was the one you caught. The one you were so excited about, and you said you wanted to keep it as a pet!”
“I didn’t know he would mutilate it! We were just kids, and we thought we were just out there having a good time. I had no idea we had to catch our dinner. Or else, I wouldn’t have volunteered.”
“He was honestly trying to show us,” Kathryn said. “Like it was something important.” She straightened her back and spoke in a deep voice: “Now you girls need to learn this kind of stuff. You never know when it’ll come in handy. There’s a lot of wild in Montana, and you have to learn how to function in it.”
Patricia leaned back into her pillow, still shaking with laughter. “Yeah, because we were going to be hermits when we grew up! That makes total sense, Dad!”
“Wow, I haven’t thought about that in a long time.” Kathryn stood and smoothed the sheet where she was sitt
ing. She stepped across the room and grabbed the remote off the television stand.
“See?” Patricia stretched underneath the covers. “He wasn’t always bad.”
“I don’t think anyone is always bad.” Kathryn handed her sister the remote. “And that’s coming from a cop who works homicide.”
Patricia stared past her at the glowing television set. “Sometimes, it’s good to remember people the way they were. It feels like you’re doing honest by them. If that makes any sense.”
“Yeah.” Kathryn nodded. “It does.”
Chapter Nine
There were a million places in the world Mouse wished she could be. A couple weeks ago, she’d seen an advertisement in a discarded magazine for Disney World in Florida. Happy families smiled from the wrinkled page while Goofy waved on a sandy shore. If she could only be there feeling the sand between her toes and a salty breeze pushing against her. Instead, she paced in a circle while Joel pounded on the door and wet snow seeped into her boots.
It was a joke that so many other kids in the world could be happy and warm. All the pieces fit for them, forming a perfect picture of their lives. Mouse’s picture had missing pieces, and she felt forced into the puzzle even if she didn’t fit. After foster care placed her with two different families, she still didn’t have a real sense of what a home could be. Not really.
The advertisement belonged in the trash. Joel always said she had her head in the clouds. That kind of life wasn’t for them. It wasn’t meant to be. The most important thing in the whole world was surviving. If you have a bit of food and a nice warm fire going, then you’re doing it right.
Still, she couldn’t help but wonder.
The kid who gave her the red tops earlier in the day swung the door open mid knock. Joel looked down at him in frustration, but it didn’t seem to phase the younger boy at all. Instead, he just stood there with a blank expression until his dark eyes fell on Mouse.
“What you want?”
Mouse moved behind her brother, peering at the kid. “Hi.”
“Hi nothing. Who’s this?”
Joel folded his arms across his chest. “I’m Joel, her brother. What’s your name?”
“Maurice. Everyone calls me Poot, though.”
A big man wearing a dark beanie and leather jacket pushed past Maurice. Another man trailed behind him. He wore a green hoodie and baggy pants. Reflective sunglasses gave him the appearance of an insect.
“What seems to be the problem out here, Poot?” The big man’s voice rumbled in the alley.
Maurice slinked back in the doorway. “Ain’t no problem, Wrench. It’s just Mouse out here again, knocking at the door.”
Wrench eyed her suspiciously, then stepped directly in front of Joel. “I been in the game long enough to know a narco when I see one.” He sniffed the air. “They got a very specific odor about them, you know? Like fuckin’ bacon.”
“I’m not a cop.” Joel narrowed his eyes.
“Did I say you was a cop?” Wrench clicked his tongue. “Don’t go assuming. All I said was that I know a narco when I see one.” He jabbed a finger into Joel’s chest. “And you don’t smell like bacon. I mean, you stink like shit, don’t get me wrong, but it ain’t bacon.”
“You gave my little sister some red tops this morning.” Joel produced the plastic baggie, holding it in front of him as though it were diseased. “She’s changed her mind about selling them. Instead, we thought we’d return them to you. It’s all there.”
Wrench didn’t break his gaze from Joel. “This ain’t Walmart, man. We don’t hand out receipts, and we don’t accept returns.”
“Come on. She’s just a kid.”
“So is Poot, and that ain’t ever stopped him.” Wrench turned to face the door, but Maurice was already gone. “Who knows what you’ve done with the contents of that bag, man. Could’ve stuffed them capsules full of salt for all I know.”
Joel shook his head. “It’s not like that. She just had a change of heart, that’s all.”
Wrench regarded Mouse with a tight grin. “That true?”
“I don’t want any trouble.” Mouse’s eyes were wide, pleading.
“Ain’t no trouble, little darling.” Wrench rubbed the stubble on his chin. He took the bag and shoved it into a jacket pocket. “You think I’m out to hurt kids? That ain’t what I’m about. We’re in it for the money, and this kind of thing ain’t for everybody. I understand that. You got to be sure about what you’re into, right?”
She nodded.
“Right.” Wrench’s smile broadened. “That’s right. Now you kids run along. If I see you hanging around here again, then you’re going to have all the trouble you was talking about and more. That I can promise.”
She returned the smile. “Thank you.”
A blue car suddenly closed the gap in the alley on one end. The windows slid down, and a rattle of gunfire tore into their surroundings. Mouse wailed in fright while Joel grabbed a handful of her sweater and pulled her behind a dumpster.
Bullets pinged into the metal frame. Heart pounding, she covered her face with both hands. “Make it stop,” she cried. “Make it stop!”
Chapter Ten
Kathryn loaded a couple grocery bags into the trunk. The snow shifted into hail. It pelted the street in a rocky rhythm and made her curse leaving the umbrella behind. Once inside, she started the engine and leaned back in the seat. The drumming on the roof was deafening. She closed her eyes. In the back of her mind, the deep voice of her father nagged. He wanted her to take Patricia to the hospital right now.
She focused on the sound of the hail, allowing it to drown out her thoughts. If Patricia wanted to feel some sense of belonging for one night, then that’s what she’d get. Times like these made Kat want to scream, but she only had one sister. Who knew how long it’d been since she felt at home anywhere.
Her cellphone buzzed.
“Kat? It’s Ryan. You heard about Mathew?”
“No, what about him?” She opened her eyes just as the icy hammering shifted back into a dizzying snowfall.
“The judge gave him leniency. He was fined and sentenced to community service. Since Martin Green didn’t want to press charges, Mathew won’t see any jail time.”
“That’s good news.”
“He’s going to have court mandated therapy sessions, but that’s to be expected. Especially considering all he put himself through. Did I hear hail? Don’t tell me you got stuck out there in that mess.”
“I just went a few blocks to the grocery. Patricia’s asleep right now, and it occurred to me that I haven’t stocked the fridge in a long time. Might as well do it while she’s snoring away, right?”
“Gotcha. Just drive slow. I hear the roads are getting bad.”
“I’m a good driver. This isn’t my first Montana winter you know.”
“Right. Hey, I read the interview you faxed. There doesn’t seem to be any discrepancies. Cutler’s story hasn’t changed at all over the years. Either he’s telling the truth, or he’s a good liar. If I could have been there, I might have needled him a bit more, but you did fine. It doesn’t look like I’d have any more success than you.”
“I’m just glad you stayed behind to talk at the press conference with the Chief. Larry Rainer put our little town on the map, so now the media is going to be crawling over every case that comes across our desk. I’d rather be working than talking about working, you know?”
“No worries. The Chief calls them vultures. Says they’ll pick at us until there’s nothing left but bones. Right now, the positive spin on catching Rainer is still rolling strong. It’s when they start asking why the police let it happen to begin with that you start feeling the peck.”
"Did you contact the Monroe Institute?"
"I spoke to Molly Evans. She didn't have anything new to add. So, I decided to have them pull financials. Guess who their top donator was?"
"Beats me."
"Calvary Baptist."
Kathryn's heart dru
mmed in her chest. "You think that Monroe had something to do with Larry Rainer?"
"I think that Molly Evans might have. Isn't that who Cutler said his pastor recommended?"
"Oh my god." Drifts of snow blew across the road. She turned left at a crawl, squinting at the limited visibility. "Want me to do a follow up?"
"Not sure if that's necessary. I could give Cutler a call to confirm where he and his wife attended church. It's not listed in the report."
"Right," she said. "You do that. I'm going to get off here so I can concentrate on driving. It's really coming down."
"No problem. Shoot me a text when you get home so I know you made it in one piece."
Chapter Eleven
Hail rained down on the alley. It pelted the road and pinged against the dumpster. For a second, Mouse thought the fighting was over. Then, the man with the bug-eyed sunglasses dropped next to her. His lifeblood spread over the pavement like a blooming rose.
Mouse squeezed her eyes shut. Another round of rattling gunshots pounded into the walls. She thought of the words of a song she heard once from an old woman named Vanessa Finch. The woman would stand on the corner with a tin bucket, strumming a guitar. She always wore tie-dyed t-shirts and a tattered jean jacket.
One day, Vanessa wasn’t there anymore. Joel told her that she’d most likely moved along to another corner. Mouse was old enough to understand what really happened. Vanessa was very old. Still, the thought of her playing the guitar and enchanting passersby was much better than the truth.
Mouse could hear the raspy voice calling from memory.
“Honey, why’re you crying?” The words rose up out of Mouse’s chest like an explosion. “Honey, while the world is dying?”
Joel lifted her head. “Be quiet!”
A bullet slammed into the dumpster.
“Honey, don’t make a scene…” Her voice broke into frightened sobs. She opened her eyes in time to see a police cruiser pull into the opposite side of the alley. Blue lights strobed against the brick walls and reflected off the snowy ground. “Help! Help us!”
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