“Yeah . . . and Jack is all too ready to take that blame.”
“It’s a dangerous combination.”
“So what do we do?”
“Reassure him. Let her vent. Keep telling her it’s not Jack’s fault, but she’ll have to come to that realization by herself.”
Chapter 5
Erosion
Friday, June 20
Bobbi sat out on the deck as the late afternoon sun lengthened the shadows creeping across the backyard. In a long, strange week, the four of them rarely passed each other. Chuck coped by staying busy, so he spent the week settling Brad’s affairs. He closed Brad’s bank account, scheduled the utilities to be shut off at the end of the month and terminated his lease. Today he was at the apartment again, sorting through Brad’s personal things.
Shannon and Jack kept to themselves, making few appearances outside their respective bedrooms. Bobbi encouraged them to do something, anything, but she found it difficult to take her own advice. Her only accomplishment for the day was throwing out all the remaining food well-meaning friends and family had dropped off.
Joel stopped by daily, usually with Abby and Ryan. Rita and Gavin called or visited and the Dillards checked in a couple of times. Bobbi appreciated their concern, but the visits were so awkward for all of them. She hoped everyone would get the sympathy out of their systems soon.
“Mom?” Shannon pushed the sliding door closed and took the deck chair next to her. “It’s hot out. Wouldn’t you rather be inside?”
Bobbi shook her head. “I was starting to feel trapped, you know?”
“Exactly. If it’s okay with you, I think I’m gonna go to Katelyn’s and spend the night.”
“At Kara’s or John’s?”
“Her dad’s.”
“You have plans?”
“Not really. We may catch a movie.”
Good. Good girl. Getting out. She needed that. They sat in silence for a moment, watching a rabbit hop across the yard and squeeze through a hole in the fence. “Are you still mad at Jack?”
“How’d you know? Did Dad tell you?”
“I told Dad. I’ve been a mom for a long time. You’re not going to get much past me.” Bobbi smiled at her daughter, then she grew serious. “Shannon, blame is a dangerous game.”
Shannon never moved her gaze from the back fence.
It was too soon. Bobbi wouldn’t press her now. She turned to face Shannon and waited for her daughter to look at her. “Dad and I decided to give Brad’s car to Jack.”
“Of course.”
“What does that mean?”
“It’s what I expected.”
Shannon was lying. She saw some injustice in giving Jack the car. “Did you want Brad’s car? Because—”
“Mom, no. Just . . . it’s okay.”
“That means you can have the little Ford all to yourself.”
“So can I drive it tonight?”
“I don’t see why not.”
“Great. I’m gonna go ahead and go.”
“Dad will be home soon. Don’t you want to wait for him?”
“I’ll see him later.”
* * *
Jack heard the gentle knock at his door but couldn’t find the will to get up and open it.
“Dad’s home. Why don’t you come down for dinner?”
What excuse would his mother buy? Then he heard the squeak as the door opened.
“Jack?”
“I don’t feel like eating.” When in doubt, go with the truth.
“I don’t either. Would you please, for my sake?”
The last thing he wanted to do was to make things harder on her. He pushed himself up to sit on the bed. “And I guess I’ll go back to work at the store Monday. I talked to them today.”
“I’m glad they were understanding.”
“I would have quit if they hadn’t been.” He stood and dragged himself toward the door.
“Sweetheart . . .”
“I know, I shouldn’t be a quitter.”
“I don’t think you’re a quitter. You just don’t realize how strong you can be. You can do this, I promise.” She put a hand over his heart. “It’s all in there. Get it out, and use it.”
“What about you?”
“Don’t worry about me,” she said. “Dad wants to talk to you.”
Dad wants to talk. Well, Jack, it’s been a week. It’s time we discussed your responsibility for Brad’s death.
He wanted to drop back on the bed, or crawl under it maybe, but his mother was watching so he shuffled to the kitchen. His dad sat at the table and smiled at him. “Hey, Jack, sit down.”
He smiled. Was that a good thing or a bad thing? Jack dropped into a chair and his mother took the one beside him, like she was on his team. Definitely a good thing.
Then his dad stood and set a cardboard box on the table. “These are Brad’s books. I think you should have them.”
Brad’s books? Jack stood and began pulling out thick volumes. Theology . . . Greek . . . Old Testament. “These are all his seminary books.” Then Jack carefully lifted Brad’s black leather Bible from the box. He opened it slowly, as if he were handling an ancient text. He turned page after page, each covered with Brad’s notes and marks in the margins. “This is . . . Wow, I don’t know what to say. Don’t you guys or Joel want this?”
“No, there was no question,” his dad answered. “You should have it. I’m sure Brad would agree.” His dad shifted so he could reach into the front pocket of his jeans, and he pulled out a key ring. “Here. We want you to have Brad’s car.”
“What if I wreck it?”
“Then we’ll collect the insurance money,” his dad said. “Jack, it’s a thing. Take it, use it. If you don’t want the car, I’ll sell it, but I thought you would appreciate having it. That it would mean more to you than anybody else.”
“Of course it does, Dad. It’s just . . .” I don’t deserve it. Not after I . . .
“You loved your brother, and looked up to him,” his mom said, “and, if you want to honor him, then take these gifts from him and use them.”
“What about Shannon?”
“Shannon wouldn’t read those kinds of books if you threatened her, especially not theology,” his mom said, and she smiled.
“I mean about the car. Is she okay with that?”
“I told her this afternoon. She gets the Ford outright, so she was happy.”
Jack held the Bible and the keys, then he looked at his parents. “Thank you. This is . . . it means a lot to me.” Then glancing at his mother, he added, “This helps.”
* * *
Shannon dragged a french fry through the puddle of ketchup and stared blankly across the mall’s food court. Changing her surroundings didn’t change her situation or how she felt about it. Naturally, Jack got Brad’s car. Not that she wanted it, but . . . And she understood how hard it had to be for him, to have witnessed the shooting, and the guilt, but . . . her grief was dismissed because his was supposedly worse.
“So which movie?” Katelyn asked.
“I don’t know,” Shannon muttered. She slurped the last of her drink and wadded the wrappers in a tight ball to throw them away. “None of them look very good.”
“There is an alternative.” Katelyn leaned across the table and grinned mischievously. “Dylan Snider’s turning nineteen. He’s having a party.”
Shannon rolled her eyes. “Is he getting a Ferrari?”
“It might be worth finding out,” Katelyn said.
“Parties aren’t really my thing. Besides, I’m not dressed for it.”
“Me either, but you need to get out with kids your own age and forget about everything else in your life. Even for a few hours. We wouldn’t have to stay.”
“You’re officially invited?”
“It was more like a general invitation. On his webpage.”
“You were on Dylan’s webpage?”
“I confess,” Katelyn said with an embarrassed smile. “I think he
’s gorgeous. Totally bad news, but very easy on the eyes.”
“All right, we’ll go, just for curiosity’s sake.”
* * *
From half a block away, Shannon heard the throb of the heavy bass from the stereo system. Dylan lived in an enormous two-story, the last house at the end of a cul-de-sac, sheltered from the neighbors, which tonight was more fortunate for the neighbors.
Shannon carefully negotiated her way through the cars lining both sides of the street. The last thing she wanted was to have to explain to her parents how she got a big scratch on the car, or worse, on someone else’s car.
“You still want to go?” Katelyn asked.
“Yeah, I’m just looking for somewhere to park.” She scanned the Sniders’ yard, mentally sizing up the spaces in between the cars. “I think I can fit between the tree and the Honda.” She gave the car enough gas to get up the curb, then slowly pulled in beside the compact.
“I can’t open my door,” Katelyn said.
“Well, scoot across.” As she and Katelyn walked up to the front door, the strong smell of beer hit her. “Where are Dylan’s parents?”
“Here somewhere, I’m sure,” Katelyn said, straining to be heard over the music. “They’d probably rather have him home than out partying somewhere.”
Shannon shook her head. “And people think I’m spoiled.” Katelyn put a hand on the doorknob and started to open it, but Shannon grabbed her. “What are you doing? We can’t just walk in.”
“Do you honestly think anybody could hear the doorbell?” Katelyn pushed the door open and led the way inside. Shannon could feel the music vibrate in her chest as she followed Katelyn back through the house. She tried not to stare at the dozens of teenagers drinking, or brazenly pairing up in one corner or another. Shannon’s jaws began to tingle the way they always did right before she threw up. This was a mistake. She knew better and her mother would kill her if she ever found out.
Finally they came through the kitchen and out the back door onto the patio. “Much better,” Katelyn said, without having to shout. “Hey, food!” Katelyn dragged her to the buffet table and began piling appetizers on a plate.
Shannon pulled back. “Listen, I think we should—”
“Ladies! Thanks for coming to my party!” Dylan Snider appeared and draped an arm around each of their shoulders. He reeked of beer, and his eyes were already red from the cigarette smoke.
“Thanks . . . for inviting us,” Shannon said awkwardly, stepping away from him.
“Here, you gotta try these.” Dylan reached over to the buffet table and held some breaded, deep-fried thing up to her mouth.
“What are they?”
“Poppers. Jalapeño peppers stuffed with cheese and deep-fried. I love ’em.”
Shannon cautiously took a bite, but before she really had time to taste anything, her mouth was on fire. “Too hot . . . I need something to drink . . .”
He handed her a cup. “Here.”
Shannon gulped until the burning cooled. “Thanks, that’s good punch.”
“Yeah,” Dylan said with a wink. “It’s got a punch all right.”
“It’s got alcohol in it?”
He grinned. “It’s a party, isn’t it?”
“Katelyn, we need to go,” Shannon said. “Thanks, Dylan. Happy birthday.” Before Shannon could turn to leave, the music suddenly shut off and the lights came on.
Two policemen stood on the patio. One of them pointed in Shannon’s direction. “Everybody in the house. Party’s over.”
* * *
Chuck poured the water in the coffeemaker, knowing his wife would wander into the kitchen soon, ready for her nightly cup. In the cabinet, the Sumatran blend was closest to the front. Strong stuff. He couldn’t blame her. This had been a long, difficult week for all of them.
He was exhausted, but he was afraid to stop moving, afraid to go to bed before he was worn out. He didn’t want his mind to wander. He didn’t want to dream. Having a focus, settling Brad’s affairs, helped him get through the days.
He wasn’t denying his grief exactly. He just couldn’t fight it right now. When the monster was more manageable, when Bobbi could help him, then he’d deal with it. Until then, he had to be strong for her.
He scooped the dark crystals into the basket and started the brewing cycle, not a moment too soon. Bobbi joined him in the kitchen, her shoulders rounded with the weight of grief. “So how did everything go?” she asked, leaning against the counter. “And thank you for starting my coffee.”
“You’re welcome. I got done what I could. The rest of it will have to wait until the bills start coming in.”
“Going back to work Monday?”
“Unless you need me here.” She didn’t reply and wouldn’t look at him. “Do you need me here?”
“I need Brad,” she said sharply. “This is wrong. It’s not fair, and it’s draining the life out of all of us.”
“Honey . . .” Chuck crossed the kitchen to embrace her, but she stepped away from him.
“No,” Bobbi said, her voice rising in anger. “I’ve been strong. I’ve said all the right things, but I just can’t do it anymore. This is my son, Chuck.” Tears started to form, and she clutched at her heart. “Someone took my son’s life. . . .” Chuck pulled her close. “I don’t understand,” she whispered.
“Honey, you don’t have to be strong anymore,” he said as he kissed her gently. “Not for my sake, not even for the kids’ sake.”
“I didn’t get to say good-bye . . .” Her tears flowed freely now, and Chuck held her tightly. When the phone rang, Chuck let the machine get it.
“This message is for Mr. or Mrs. Molinsky. This is Officer Miguel Estrada, Florissant PD. Your daughter, Shannon, has been arrested. We need you to come to the police station.” Chuck tried pick up the phone, but the policeman had already hung up. He replayed the message to ensure that he had heard it correctly. He had. Shannon had been arrested.
“Are you coming?” he asked his wife.
“Of course.”
“I’ll tell Jack.”
* * *
Bobbi leaned back against the head rest as Chuck drove them to the police station. Shannon was going to a movie and then to John Isaac’s to spend the night with Katelyn. What could she possibly have done . . . ? Unless she lied. But Shannon wasn’t a liar. Something wasn’t right.
She glanced over at Chuck and could see his jaw tightening and the flush across the back of his neck. When he jammed the car into park, she gripped his hand. “Before you go in there, I want you to remember one thing. No matter what happened . . . we still have her.”
“Don’t worry.”
Easier said than done. She knew he was stuffing his grief just like the rest of them and this was exactly the kind of thing that could trigger a release, only with Chuck it would come as long dormant anger. “Promise me you won’t say anything tonight.”
“Bobbi—”
“I mean it, Chuck. Promise me.”
“Fine. I promise.”
Once inside, after explaining who they were and why they were there, Officer Estrada met them and directed them to a desk. “Mr. and Mrs. Molinsky, your daughter was at a party that got a noise complaint. When we arrived we found underage drinking and some marijuana.”
Drinking. Bobbi shuddered. Her father drowned his grief over her mother’s death in whiskey. Where was Katelyn? Had Shannon contrived the whole sleepover story? To drink?
“Shannon was arrested for drinking and smoking marijuana?” Chuck asked.
“She had alcohol on her breath, but she blew clean. Even so, she’s underage.”
“Where was she? Who was having the party?” At least Chuck had the presence of mind to ask questions.
“Dylan Snider, also underage.”
“Can we take her home?”
“As soon as we finish processing everything and get a court date.”
“A court date?” Bobbi asked. “Like a trial?”
“She’
ll have to appear, but I’d say the charges will be dropped. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll move things along so we can get her out here to you.”
Chuck leaned back in his chair. “Do you know this kid?”
“He just graduated with Shannon. He’s been a troublemaker since kindergarten.”
“So how . . . ?”
“I don’t know, but don’t start on her tonight,” Bobbi said. “Let’s just get her home and deal with it in the morning.”
Moments later, Officer Estrada escorted Shannon out to them. She looked away quickly when Bobbi tried to make eye contact with her. While Chuck signed the papers Officer Estrada handed him and got the court date, Bobbi maneuvered over closer to Shannon. “It’s okay,” she whispered. “Whatever happened, it’s okay.”
Shannon raised her head and started to speak, when Chuck looked at her and pointed toward the door. “Let’s go.”
* * *
Shannon trudged out to the car. She could hear her parents behind her, but she was afraid to turn around. Her mom said everything was okay, but her dad . . . she was dead. Maybe if she threw herself on the mercy of the court. She blew out a deep breath, stopped walking and turned around to him. “Dad, I—”
“Not now, Shannon. Let’s go home.”
The harsh edge made her reconsider spending the night at the jail. He would never believe that she hadn’t done anything wrong, that it was just a misunderstanding.
She curled up in the back seat of the car, trying to make herself invisible. She watched her father’s eyes in the rearview, but he was focused on the road ahead. She could see the tightness in his jaw, though.
That meant he’d made up his mind, and he was going to hand out a punishment without even hearing her side. Her mother said everything was okay. Did that mean she planned to step in, to be her advocate? That was her only hope of getting out of this mess.
Precedent: Book Three: Covenant of Trust Series Page 5
