Annoyed, I reply as I continued to rap loudly on the front door, “To whom, Allie? There’s nobody on the steps but us.”
“One of my friends could walk by,” she scoffs, removing her hands from her face. “It’s a free country, you know.”
Yes, I know. One with plenty of second amendment rights being violated by bad moms like me. I ignore her as I continue pounding on the door.
Why doesn’t Mary hear me? Even if she is sleeping…and really, how could she sleep with the TV that loud? Allie is right, she was old and maybe she had a heart attack or a stroke and couldn’t move or answer the door. So where is Jason?
Pursing my lips, I head down the front steps.
“Oh thank God,” Allie huffs as she follows me.
I cut across the lawn and swing open the gate to the backyard. “What are you doing?” she hisses as she chases me. “Mother!” she screeches to a halt and dramatically pounds her foot into the grass.
“Come on,” I order. “I need to get in to see if Mary needs help!”
“Why would she need help? She’s probably just ignoring you because she doesn’t want to talk to you! I can totally relate!” Allie scoffs as she reluctantly follows me into the backyard.
“Zip it,” I snap. I stop when I reach the back of the house and notice that the kitchen window is open and the screen has fallen to the ground.
“You never told me why we’re here. Why are we here?” Allie demands as she chases after me.
“So I can confront Jason about the drugs,” I hiss.
Allie shakes her head, “What drugs? Who?”
I narrow my eyes at her. “Let’s not play games, Allie.”
“Hoist me up to that window.” By the way, at no point in time does it strike me as odd that the screen is lying on the ground in the backyard.
Allie recoils like I have slapped her across the face. “Are you insane? That’s like breaking and entering!” Oh, now she decides to be a law abiding citizen.
“I’m trying to help the neighbor, Allie. I’m not planning on stealing anything. I’m pretty sure that is okay in the eyes of the law.”
She parks her hands on her hips and resumes her defiant stance. “No way. I’m not going to jail.”
“Listen, you’re headed there if you continue your friendship with Victoria. I’ll turn you both in myself.”
Allie honestly looks frightened. “I told you I didn’t-”
“Just save it, Allie.” I curse under my breath at her as the garbage cans near the edge of the driveway catch my eye. Grumbling, I drag one over to the window. Lumbering ever so gracefully onto it, I stand underneath the window. Peeking inside, I can see that it is over the kitchen counter, so all I need to do is pull myself up and climb right on to the counter.
I shove the window open and try to hoist my body over the ledge, but it certainly isn’t as easy as TV shows lead you to believe. Apparently, to accomplish this feat, you need something called upper body strength which I am severely lacking. I end up flailing in midair for a few minutes, legs floundering, body half in the window, half out. Allie is just staring at me, humiliation evident on her face.
“Oh. My. God, I cannot believe you are doing this,” she groans as I manage to wiggle my entire body through the window. I slide in and promptly slip right off the counter which has recently been wiped down.
“Shit,” I yelp, falling to the floor with a thud. I quickly jump to my feet and examine my body parts for injuries. The only thing that seems to be bruised is my ego. Of all embarrassing things to do in front of your teenager, I think as I headed over to the back door to let Allie in.
But I find that she is already inside the house, standing by the back door, tapping her ballet flat encased foot impatiently. “Maybe next time you’ll use the open door,” she remarks with sarcasm as she demonstrates that the door was open the whole time. She offers me a smirk while I turn crimson.
Okay, so maybe I should have checked to see if the back door was open before I climbed in but the point is, I am in now and I need to check on Mary.
“Stay here,” I order Allie, warding off further discussion regarding my foolish daredevil stunt. She rolls her eyes and follows me into the living room anyway. The TV is still blasting as we round the corner. Allie and I can see Mary is still on the couch.
And then, we both begin to scream.
~TWELVE~
Allie and I are frozen in place, screaming for what seems to be an eternity as we both stare at our friendly, elderly neighbor sitting on the couch in an emerald green velour track suit. She looks like she is just chilling, propped up on an oversized couch cushion, crossword puzzle book on her lap, glasses folded neatly on top of that. Only problem is, there is a large gaping hole where her chest should be and blood splattered all over the back of the couch, the wall and the front of Mary’s body. It appears that she has been shot.
I have never seen a dead body before, other than at a funeral parlor, of course, but I am fairly certain there is no need to check Mary’s pulse. She is dead as a doornail.
“Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God…” Allie is muttering over and over and over. I can’t even console my traumatized teenager because I am shaking, shocked, and not sure what to do. Should I call the police? And ambulance? Roger? Mary’s husband? Son?
Just then, an even more sickening thought punches me in the gut. Where is Jason? What has he been doing all day? Where did he rush off to? Did he kill Mary because she found out he was dealing drugs? And where the hell is Sean? Was Sean home when it happened? Oh my God, did he kill Sean, too?
“Jesus Christ, Sean,” I yelp. “Allie, check Sean’s room, I’ll call the police!”
She stares at me as if I just told her to go give the dead woman mouth to mouth. “Are you crazy, Mother? We have to get out of here! Someone could still be in the house! And waiting to chop us up and put our bodies in little baggies and toss us in the river!” Her voice raises an octave with every high pitched word.
I shake my head. “I don’t think so. She looks like she’s been dead awhile. And besides we didn’t hear any gunshots and we’ve been outside the house for almost twenty minutes,” I point out. Oh really, Amy? Remember we discussed this earlier? You are not in an Agatha Christie novel!
“It would be hard to hear over the TV blasting,” Allie snaps back sarcastically, but I can tell she is petrified as she clutches my arm tightly.
Ok, Amy. You need to reassure her. Tell her she is safe. But the problem is, I’m not so sure I believe it myself. I open my mouth to speak but Allie is squeezing me tighter.
“What if he’s gone now, but he comes back?” my paranoid daughter shrieks while shaking me frantically. I am a wreck but she is becoming physically undone. “Oh my God, what if he kills us! Why did you bring me over here? This is scary, Mother!”
“Well if you hadn’t been doing drugs we wouldn’t even be over here to begin with!” I snap at her.
It is at this point that Allie gives me a look I can only describe as perplexgitated. Both perplexed and agitated at the same time.
“Drugs, Mother? Seriously? What gave you that idea?” Insert eye roll here.
Now it is my turn to be perplexgitated. “Well isn’t that what you and Victoria were talking about?”
“When?” She wrinkles up her pert little nose.
“Your text messages, Allie! About the goods?” I am just plain agitated now.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Mother!” Allie is just plain perplexed at this point.
“Victoria’s text message said that she had the goods and you said ok, my mom’s not home or something along those lines,” I explain, poking my finger into her shoulder. She is almost as tall as I am, so I turn my back so neither Allie nor I can see Mary’s body.
Here I must pause. At this point in my story you may be wondering why the hell we didn’t get out of the house. Or pick up the phone and call the police. Woman dead from an obvious gunshot wound to the chest on the couch and I am gri
lling my teen about her texting. What the hell is wrong with you? What kind of mother are you? Get your kid out of the house and call the police! Isn’t that what you’re screaming at me right now? Possibly tossing this book across the room because you just can’t believe my stupidity?
Well, as we’ve established, I’m not the best mother in the world and I certainly make mistakes. This definitely qualifies as one of them. This is part of Mistake #7 for those of you following along at home. Walking in on your neighbor shot at point blank range in her own living room kind of messes with your brain a little bit. I am not thinking too clearly. I assume you’ve probably never experienced this, so you’re going to have to take my word for it.
Allie’s face turns bright red as she gasps and covers her mouth with her hand. At first, I think she is crying, but then I realize she is laughing. She must be delirious from the shock. Should I slap her like they do in movies? “Oh. My. God. Mother. You thought she meant drugs?”
Hands on my hips I retort, “Well…yeah!”
Allie offers me a complimentary eye roll. “Duh. She was talking about make-up!”
Huh? Now I am really confused. First of all, why would Allie be so secretive about make-up? It’s not like I don’t let her wear it. And also, why would she say saw Jason ‘doing it’ at the mall? Is he secretly a cross dressing, make-up wearer?
I am about to ask my daughter to clarify, when I hear a thunking noise from somewhere within the house. Allie grips my arm so tightly I can feel her fingers imprinting on my skin.
“Allie,” I whisper. “Do you have your cell phone?”
Of course she has her cell phone! What teenager goes anywhere without their cell phone? As a matter of fact, didn’t she just shove it into her bra before we came over here?
“Yes,” she replies in a hushed voice and my chest does a happy little flip. “But the battery is dead. You didn’t close out my apps when you were snooping today and it drained the battery,” she continues in an accusatory tone.
Oops. My bad. I grimace. “Sorry.”
“What is that noise?” she asks, lip trembling.
I have no clue and I don’t want to find out. “We need to get out of here and call the police. Now.” I tug her towards the back door.
At this point in time, I am looking at Allie, not really paying attention to where I am going, but I can see her eyes grow wide with fright as I speak.
“What?” I ask as I proceed to turn my head and smack right into a bulky male form. As I gaze downward, I see that it is a bulky male form with size 12 sneakers. With blood on them. Oh shit.
My heart is sprinting as I cautiously raise my head, taking in the man’s sweaty, blood stained tee shirt, rippling biceps crossed over his formidable chest, thick neck muscles, and finally, Jason’s quite pissed off expression on his face. Allie grips my arm so forcefully I can feel the bruises forming on my skin underneath her fingertips.
Oh shit, I repeat in my head. We’re gonna die. And Allie is going to torture me in the afterlife about this bonehead move of mine.
“Uh, hi,” I wave to my neighbor timidly. “Um…”
“What in God’s name are you doing here?” he snaps. “What are you…” his voice trails off. He is obviously as surprised to see us as we are to see him.
I have no answer to offer him as I stand there, mouth gaping open, knees knocking together, hands twitching like a junkie looking for a fix. In my head, I frantically try to assess the situation.
Okay, I don’t see a gun. I can probably grab Allie and rush him, get out the back door and get the hell out of here, dash across the street and call the cops without him catching us. I took kickboxing classes at the Y and that self-defense course with Joey once. I can take him, I assure myself.
Then I take another gander at the ropelike forearms he has crossed over his tee shirt which is, by the way, screaming from the strain of the well-defined pectoral muscles underneath. Yeah, we’re dead. I gather Allie underneath my wimpy arm, trying futilely to protect her.
Jason reaches out and grabs my arm with one hand and yanks Allie’s with his other. Practically stuffing us under his armpits, he drags us towards the back door. “Come on, I’ve got to get you out of here before the police arrive. Jesus Christ. You just couldn’t leave it alone, could you?”
He doesn’t let me answer, not that I could form words if I tried. “Damn women, always complicating everything. Always getting themselves killed. I can’t be responsible for any more damn women getting killed ‘cuz they just can’t stay out of the damn way.” He is now muttering exclusively to himself as he pushes open the back door, Allie and I limp in his arms, too stunned to resist. He shoves us out the door and towards the steps. “Walk,” he growls. I nearly pee my pants.
Allie lets out a whimper and I want nothing more than to put my arms around her, comfort her and apologize for getting us into this mess. But my arms and legs are so completely rubbery that I can barely manage to put one foot in front of the other to walk.
I’ve failed you again, Allie. This time in the worst way imaginable. I couldn’t protect you from danger. I am aching to say these words to my daughter who has tears glistening in her beautiful blue eyes. They threaten to burst forward any moment now and smudge the heavily made up face. The face that is simply gorgeous without make–up, but Allie never seems to realize that.
Shit, when was the last time I told her she was beautiful? When was the last time I made her feel good about herself? This may be the last night of her life and I haven’t done my job as a mother of a teenaged daughter.
“You’re beautiful, Allie,” I manage to stammer as we stumble through the Sanders’ backyard, Jason shoving us forward. Surprised, she glances up at me and trips on a tree root.
“Oh, for God’s sakes,” Jason mutters as he pulls her to her feet before she falls flat on her face.
“What?” She stares at me incredulously.
“You’re beautiful,” I repeat, this time with more conviction. If we are going to die tonight, I want my daughter to know that she is beautiful and that I loved her enough to tell her that with my dying breath.
Apparently, Allie is not convinced this is the most efficient use of my dying breath. “Mother, really?” And her annoyed tone is accompanied by an eye roll. Daughter, 1, Mom, zip.
“Alright you two, we don’t have time for this,” Jason complains. “Get in the car.” With a forceful grip around our arms, he shoves us towards his car which is now backed all the way up to the garage in the driveway. In the backseat, I can make out two shadowy figures. If I had been scared before, I am downright petrified now.
Stop making this so easy for him, dummy! If you love your daughter, fight! I dig my heels into the pavement in front of me.
“No!” I yell, now frantically searching my surroundings for some way out of this mess. A stick to beat Jason with, a neighbor walking their dog, Roger coming across the street to look for us because we’ve been gone so long…
Oh, scratch that last one. That’ll never happen. Roger has probably assumed Mary and I are having cake and coffee or something like that. He won’t look for me until Evan needs his diaper changed. Or he sticks his finger in an electric socket, whichever comes first.
“Mrs. Maxwell,” Jason growls in my ear. “We don’t have time for you to be difficult. You need to get in the car…now.” I hate to admit, Jason’s warm breath as his lips graze my ear manages to arouse me, even in the face of certain death. But I still am not going to let this gorgeous hunk of a man, who may or may not wear ladies underwear, take me down without a fight.
“No,” I repeat, still trying to apply the brakes in my cheap sneakers. I can smell the rubber burning on the pavement. “I will not go down without a fight. You may succeed in killing me and my daughter, but I certainly will not let you win without a battle from me!” I puff out my chest as much as possible in the current situation.
“Mom!” Allie gasps, obviously appalled. I’m sure I have managed to somehow humiliate her.
At the same time Jason squeaks out in a very unnatural, high pitched voice, “Kill you? Why on Earth would I want to kill you? I’m trying to save your sorry ass from getting killed!”
Okay, this is news to me. “What?” is all I can manage to stammer as I crane my neck to get a better look at him.
Jason shakes his head in disbelief. “Just get in the damn car and I’ll explain on the way. Time is of the essence here. You need to listen to me or you’re going to be attending your own funeral at the end of the week.” He opens the door to the back seat and shoves Allie in next to the two dark forms already sitting there. Then, with his arm still clamped tightly on mine, he guides me around to the passenger side and opens up that door. When the overhead light comes on, I can clearly see that the other two passengers in the back are Walter and Sean. Neither of them appear as if they have been beat up or are being held against their will. True, Walter appears to have been crying, but his wife was just shot to death.
Wait a minute! Do they even know about Mary? Did they even go into the living room and see that Mary had been shot? And Jason had blood on his shoes! Whose blood was that? Mary’s? His own?
Confusion swirls around in my brain like a cinnamon bun as Jason hops into the driver’s seat and guns the already running car down the driveway. He bounds over the ditch at the bottom of the driveway, nearly sending me airborne.
“Slow down, son,” Walter advises in a fatherly tone from the back seat.
“No time for that,” Jason replies as we whiz by our house. It looks so quiet and peaceful, nearly every room in the house lit up.
Damn it, Roger. They’ve got to turn the lights off! What do you think, we own stock in the electric company? You don’t pay the bills so you have no idea how much these things cost, I find myself admonishing my husband who is not even there.
Then I remember, I have bigger problems than an enormous electric bill. I turn to Jason and examine his profile as the street lights fly past his window like a strobe light in a dance club. He is a good looking man, anyone with eyeballs in their head can see that. The kind of neighbor any woman wants to have around to watch his rugged form pushing the lawn mower on a Saturday afternoon. But Jason’s presence scares me. I have no idea what his deal is, what happened to Mary, what part he played in it, and why he is dragging me and Allie, not to mention Walter and Sean, God knows where. I intend to get to the bottom of this bizarre evening once and for all. But first, a little motherly housekeeping to attend to.
The 8 Mistakes of Amy Maxwell Page 15
