Indivisible

by Kristen Heitzmann

  He took out his phone and keyed Liz. She didn’t answer. Well, it was Sunday. She had to have some life. Or else she was avoiding him. He bagged the cats and brought them to the funeral parlor morgue.

  “You’re kidding, right?” Morey Bejoe blinked slowly.

  “Nope. I need to keep them cold and unmolested until the vet can take a look.”

  Morey shook his head, then shrugged. “Okay. You’re the boss.”

  He handed over the cats and headed back through town, down the main street, ready to be home, to wield a hammer, drill, and saw. Nearing the bakery, he thought about Sarge. Maybe he should visit. It had been a few days. He glanced at the bakery as he passed, then slammed on the brakes, put the truck in reverse, and screeched to a stop outside the window.

  Piper sat at the front table with a man who by his size and haircut must be the elusive Miles. He pulled the Bronco to the curb half a block up and got out. He strode over and rattled the door until Piper unlocked it, then pushed in and searched behind her.

  “He’s gone. Ran out the back.”

  He couldn’t be far. Jonah stalked through the kitchen and pushed open the door. Nothing but dim and quiet. He searched the pantry and the walk-in, then went back to Piper and scowled. “Did you tell him to run?”

  “Me? I think you’re cute. He thinks you’re scary.”

  Jonah looked at the trays set around the tables. “What is this? What are you doing?”

  “Baking.”

  “With … Miles?”

  “He says what he thinks. He’s the perfect judge.”

  “He’s violent and destructive.”

  “Not intentionally.”

  “Does that matter?” he pressed. “One touch can set him off. Then he tears up Sarge’s place and where are we?”

  “So it’s about Sarge?” She folded her arms.

  “It’s about I want to talk to him.”

  “I’m working on that.”

  He eyed her, perplexed. What part of dangerous didn’t she get? “What do you mean?”

  “I’m working him up to it, little by little.”

  “Great progress you’ve made.”

  She put her hands on her hips. “Look. He’s nice. He’s funny. I like him.”

  “Do you know his last name?”

  “He doesn’t want to say.”

  “Does that tell you something?”

  “So he’s paranoid. He probably has reason to be.” She reached down for a tart. “Try this?”

  “Piper. I’m trying to get to the bottom of some troubling things.”

  “I know. That dead animal stuff.”

  He frowned. “What has Tia told you?”

  “Only what you told her. I’ve asked around, but no one else has any idea what’s going on.”

  “You’ve asked around?”

  “You’re only one guy.”

  “I have a department.”

  “Sometimes people talk to me.”

  He cocked his jaw. “So what, you crook your little finger and some Joe spills his guts about torturing animals?”

  “Maybe.” Her eyes were the color of blue cleary marbles and just as guileless.

  He moved in close. “Then what? He asks if you want to see his laboratory?” He leaned. “But hey. He might be nice. He might be funny.”

  She stepped back, breathing quicker. “I was just trying to help.”

  “You can help by not getting in my way.”

  Her brows puckered. “Tia said you’d be this way. Guess she knows you pretty well.”

  “Then learn from her mistake.” He turned and went out. The last thing he needed was Piper mucking around in his cases. He slammed the Bronco into gear and got halfway out of town before his phone rang. He activated the hands-free. “Yeah.”

  “Jonah, can we talk?”

  “What’s up, Sue?”

  “Will you meet me at the station?”

  He cocked his jaw and narrowed his eyes. “Yeah. Of course.” He slowed the Bronco and made a U-turn, heading back the way he didn’t want to go. He arrived before Sue and waited in his office, hoping she wasn’t tendering her resignation. When she came in, he went around and sat on the edge of his desk. “What’s up?” He’d seen her mad, but this was different.

  “You were right. Sam’s passing the blame.”

  “I thought he might.”

  “I mean, come on. My mother? She weighs ninety pounds. And it’s not just about Eli, Jonah.” She looked away. “I was going to tell you—”

  “I know.”

  She turned back. “You know I’m pregnant?”

  “Congratulations.”

  She looked down at the floor, then back. “Nothing gets past you, does it?”

  He smiled.

  “I don’t know how I’ll make it with another one on the way without Sam’s income. But it doesn’t matter, does it?”

  “Not so much.”

  She chewed the cuticle of her left index finger, then realized it and lowered her hand. When she’d first started on the job, in the interest of professionalism, he’d suggested she break that habit. She mostly had.

  “So this is what I know. There’s a man named Greggor. I don’t know if it’s first, last, or nickname.” She gave him what sketchy impressions she had, enough to have someone check it out. “That’s all I know, and most of it I only suspect.”

  “It’s a starting point.”

  She looked down. “He should not have messed with my child.”

  “Rule number one.”

  “I know it’s wrong, but I wouldn’t have turned him in.”

  “I know.”

  “I want my son back.”

  “You’ll get him.”

  She drew a breath. “You said you’d vouch for me.”

  “I will.”

  She nodded. “How did you know?”

  “That you were pregnant?”

  “That Sam would turn on me.” She raised her eyes.

  “Takes a certain kind of man to hurt a child.”

  “He’s that kind of man?”

  Jonah held her eyes.

  Tia looked around the circle of graying women. One was widowed, one divorced, all with kids mostly grown. She was younger than some by fifteen years and others by more than thirty. Although she cherished each one, if she’d been told her circle of friends at twenty-seven would be these older women, she’d have laughed long and hard.

  First, she’d have pointed out, they would not approve of her. She was too wayward, too headstrong. They had little in common, and not one could claim to need salvation as she had. Not that they knew—the details anyway. They had lived quiet, pious lives, reached their middle and elder years with grace. How else could she explain their loveliness?

  While there were women her age without kids or permanent relationships in Redford, within the Worship Chapel community she was an anomaly. The question came around to her, and she read the answer she had written the night before. Did they realize how vulnerable she made herself each time she shared an insight, how she slaved over each comment, leaving no opening for criticism?

  One of the other women nodded. “Very thoughtful, Tia. Wanda?”

  Only one had heard her story in all its ugliness, and she watched mildly from across the table as Tia rested her hands on the small notebook from which she’d read. Carolyn gave her a soft smile. Not a motherly smile—thank God. More otherworldly.

  To spare Reba humiliation, her mother had not revealed the damning act to the multitudes. Tia could have kept the secret herself, but she had laid it before Carolyn as proof that she should not be admitted into any fellowship. Carolyn had insisted she was wrong. “There is no stain that cannot be washed in the blood of the Lamb.”

  To have these women look at her without condemnation, she attended services, served on committees, came to studies, kept her vow, a vow she’d made before God in Carolyn’s presence. She needed what they had to give, these friends and mentors. She would not disappoint.

  �
��Will you read the next passage?” Carolyn asked.

  Tia read, her voice clear, her heart full. She wanted it all to be true. Their discussion lasted two hours. When they had cleared the brownie plates and teacups, gathered their study materials and coats, Carolyn murmured, “Hold on a minute, okay?”

  Feeling as though she’d been retained by a teacher for misbehavior, Tia hung back. The day had turned cold, and Carolyn shut the door after the last of the other ladies left. “You seem pensive today.”

  “Do I?”

  “Is your leg hurting?”

  “A lot, surprisingly.” She leaned on the inner door frame to shift her weight. “Makes me realize I’m not so tough after all.”

  Carolyn smiled. “Something we all need from time to time. How’s the Hopeline?”

  “Five or six calls a week. Mostly at night.”

  “It’s been three years?”

  “Almost four.”

  “Repeats?”

  “I try not to notice.”

  “We could be counting that time toward your license.”

  “I know.”

  “I hate to see you wasting your education. You’d do a lot of good with a counseling practice.”

  Tia shrugged. “For now, the Hopeline is enough.”

  Carolyn hesitated, then said, “Rosemary saw the police chief take you home last night.”

  Tia’s smile faded. “I took a Percocet, and it knocked me out. Piper got worried and called him.”

  After a while, Carolyn nodded. “If you ever need to talk …”

  “Thanks. I will.”

  “Friends can help.”

  Something she was only now learning. She had burned out her childhood friends with her energetic nature. Or else their parents had thought her a bad influence. It was laughable the things people had thought she’d done. Cheating, vandalism, scoring boys.

  She was one of the smartest kids in the school. Why would she cheat? The vandalism accusation had angered her because she didn’t mess up people’s things. They had no proof to make it stick, so she hadn’t been punished, but the suspicion remained. And boys? Maybe if she had not been so hung up on …

  She sighed. “I’m okay, Carolyn, just numbed by the pain meds.”

  “Of course. I’m so glad you came anyway.”

  It was expected, wasn’t it? She’d committed to the group. “Me too.”

  They hugged. Tia went out.

  Mary Carson was waiting outside. “I noticed that you walked over.”

  Tia nodded. “I thought walking it out might help.”

  “Now you know better. I’ll give you a ride home.”

  Tia smiled. There were worse things to have in her life than kind, older women.

  Piper looked up from polishing the rocker when Tia limped into the house and sank down on the settee with pain creasing her brow. “Would you light the candles on the mantel, Piper? Turn the MP3 on low.”

  She did. “Are you okay?”

  “I can’t believe a bruise can be this big an issue.”

  “A bone contusion is more than a bruise.”

  “Still.”

  “You’re usually so fit. You’re not used to something keeping you down.”

  “I guess.” What had really thrown her was Carolyn and Rosemary knowing about Jonah. He’d only taken her home, but she could guess how it looked, him holding her arm, cupping her face. Their ardent dialogue.

  She closed her eyes as strains of Coldplay softened the mood. “So tell me about your day.”

  Piper settled onto the settee. “Well, it turns out Sunday’s pretty busy. Sarge was missing the church crowd.”

  “But you don’t get a day off.”

  She shrugged. “If I’m not working, I …”

  “Feel like you’re taking advantage of someone?”

  Piper cocked her head. “Lame, isn’t it?”

  “Not considering your background. It’s compensation.”

  Piper pulled her knees to her chest. “After I closed, Miles came by. I decided to use up the ingredients I’d gotten to experiment with before Sarge freaked out and fired me. We baked up a whole bunch of different things.”

  Tia frowned. “You know he’s not right.”

  “Maybe, but tell him to mince and he minces.”

  Tia laughed.

  “Anyway we were sitting down, judging the creations when the chief saw us through the window.”

  “Uh-oh.”

  “Yeah. Miles ran out the back.”

  “Oh, boy.”

  “I get that Jonah wants to question him about your store, but he’s wrong to think Miles has anything to do with dead animals.”

  “How can you know?”

  “I just know. I told the chief I’ve been asking around and—”

  “I’ll bet that went over well.”

  “He got kind of scary.”

  “He’s not a safe man, Piper.”

  “Except … he is. Even when he gets hard and intense, I know he’s protecting me.”

  Tia stared at the candles. “Just don’t confuse protective with safe.”

  Fourteen

  If two lie down together, they will keep warm. But how can one keep warm alone?

  —ECCLESIASTES 4:11

  As he headed toward town the next morning in his Lysol-scented Bronco, Jonah phoned Liz. “I’m sorry to call so early, but I was hoping to catch you before you opened.”

  “What is it?”

  “Another pair of animals I’d like you to examine.”

  “Like the last ones?”

  “Close enough.”

  “I’m not sure what else I can tell you.”

  “I’m hoping you can verify something.”

  After a pause, she said, “Where are you?”

  “Can you meet me at the funeral home?”

  “The …”

  “Morgue is in the basement.”

  “Okay.”

  “I’ll explain when you get there.”

  “I’m on my way.”

  He waited for her outside the two-story Georgian-style house flanked by tall pines that spread a rusty bed of needles and cones on the sparse lawn. With a flat, windowed, brick face, it was one of several historically protected buildings in the town. It had been a funeral parlor for over fifty years, but was also a residence.

  Liz parked and moved toward him with her uneven gait. He wouldn’t ask, but maybe sometime she’d tell him what had happened. She had pulled her hair into a ponytail, wore minimal—if any—makeup, royal blue warmups with a yellow stripe down the leg. Obviously not trying to impress him, which he hoped meant his slip the other night had not done damage.

  He liked her, didn’t want to complicate things. She greeted him with a measured smile. Polite. Professional. Friendly.

  He said, “Thanks for coming.”

  “You piqued my curiosity.”

  “Sorry about the morgue. I needed to keep them cold until you could see them, and since I didn’t want to use my fridge …” He motioned her toward the door. “Morey agreed to keep them in here. He’ll let us have a look.”

  “Nothing like the morgue in the morning.”

  Smiling, Jonah rang the bell that brought Morey to the door, his belly protuberant in red silk pajamas. He had told Morey they were coming, but obviously that hadn’t inclined him toward dressing. Jonah sent her an apologetic glance.

  She raised her eyebrows and followed Morey inside. They passed the viewing rooms to a heavy metal door beyond the black velvet curtains, clambered down the stairs to the morgue. The air was naturally cool, the scent moderately repugnant. Morey pulled one of the metal drawers, shaking his head and muttering.

  Jonah said, “Thanks.”

  “Cats?” Liz put the back of her hand to her nose. They had not been cleaned up, only chilled to slow decomposition. He realized how gory and disturbing it was.

  She turned her head to her shoulder. “I help animals, Jonah.”

  “I know. I’m sorry.”

&nbs
p; She drew a breath, probably wishing she hadn’t. Morey handed her a small, scented cloth.

  Pulling herself together, she leaned in. “Two limbs are missing from each, corresponding fore and back legs. They were glued at the hip joint and the shoulder.”

  “Glued?”

  “It’s a bone epoxy. You can see where it cracked apart at the shoulder. Maybe from a blow.”

  “Or a fall?”

  “It’s possible.”

  “What about other body parts?”

  She studied the cats. “There is not a full complement for two animals. Some are missing, some are joined.”

  “Why?”

  “I have no idea.”

  “Look at the stomach.”

  “Only one for both cats. Also two lungs between them.”

  “So they’ve been surgically altered.”

  “I’m afraid so.” She looked up. “Is that what you wanted to know?”

  He nodded. “Did they die trying to separate?”

  “I see no sign of struggle.”

  “So the surgery killed them?”

  “Could be infection. This extreme putrefaction looks antemortem. I’ve had animals this sick and told their owners nothing could be done.”

  “So they were sick already. Before someone connected them.”

  “Maybe. I just don’t know.”

  He pushed the drawer back in and thanked Morey. Outside, they both drew lungfuls of air. Jonah turned. “That was helpful, Liz. I appreciate your coming. Can I buy you breakfast?”

  She raised her eyebrow. “Oh well, that was so appetizing.”

  “Sorry. Guess I compartmentalize.”

  “Any place in mind?”

  “Sarge’s bakery is on the way to the station.” He checked his watch. “I don’t have too much time.”

  She pulled out her keys. “I’ll follow you.”

  They found easy parking in Old Town since most of the shops had not yet opened. In the clear, bright morning, the sky formed an azure backdrop to the craggy, pine-clad slopes. A paunchy gray jay chirped from the corner of a roof, and another flew to join it. Though the morning chill had not passed, the cloudless sunlight promised warmth, and Liz took a moment to draw it all in. This kind of day anything was possible.

  Jonah had chosen the bakery next to the Half Moon candle shop where she’d gotten Lucy’s melts. Maybe it would be open by the time they finished eating. She’d like to see Tia, talk to her again.