Indivisible

by Kristen Heitzmann

  Scout made a small movement of his head. Jonah pressed in. “Did he move?”

  “The wounds are serious, but there’s no organ damage. If he can recover the blood loss, he should survive.”

  A rush of relief.

  She said, “I’ll watch him overnight.”

  “No, I’ll take him. If you don’t have blood anyway, I’ll return him to his mother.”

  “She could damage the stitches, licking the wounds.”

  “I’ll watch.” He cradled Scout’s head.

  From a cabinet, she gave him a bottle of antibiotics.

  “Thanks. Do you want to send a bill, or can I pay you now?”

  Her eyelids hooded. “I’ll bill you.”

  “Thank you. I mean it.” He lifted Scout, wrapped him again in the hem of his bloody shirt, and went out.

  Liz stared after him, stunned.

  “Lizzie?”

  “I’ve never hurt something on purpose.” She looked down. Her hands were shaking. And why not? They were streaked with Scout’s blood.

  She scrubbed and disinfected her hands, her arms to the elbow and above. She scrubbed the table, her eyes stinging from the bleach, until no molecule of blood remained. She found a drop on the floor and scrubbed the entire floor until her knees ached and her knuckles throbbed. Then she washed her hands again.

  “You can’t get rid of it.”

  She turned and glared. “Rid of what?”

  “The bad feeling.”

  Shaking, she toweled her hands dry. “I’m cleaning up the mess.”

  “But the damage is done.”

  “Why are you saying that?”

  “You should have left him alone.”

  She knew it.

  “But you wanted him to come.”

  “Yes.” Liz seethed. “Is that so wrong? For me to want something? I’ve given you everything. My whole life.”

  “That’s not true.” Lucy’s voice was weak. “You know it’s not.”

  Liz sank to her knees, her head reeling. Lucy faded in and out, and Liz was sure she’d faint. She gripped her head, swaying.

  “But I love you. I’ll always love you.” Lucy came close and held her. “Even when I’m gone.”

  Liz wrapped her sister in her arms. “You’re not leaving. I won’t let you go.”

  “Oh, Lizzie. How much longer can we do this?”

  “Forever.”

  Lucy sighed. “I don’t have forever.”

  With Scout cradled in his lap, Jonah drove home, knots of tension in his muscles. “Jonah.” Ruth came over the radio. “Are you on your way in?”

  “I have to go by my house first. What’s—”

  “I’ll meet him out there. Tell him—”

  Ruth broke in. “The mayor says he’ll meet you there.”

  Jonah scowled. “What’s up?”

  “He’ll talk to you there.”

  Mayor Buckley was waiting when he climbed out. “You’ll have to give me a minute.”

  The mayor took in his bloody shirt and the animal he clutched. “Anything I can do?”

  “I wouldn’t recommend it. His mother’s half coyote, and she’s already frantic. Just give me a few minutes to deal with this.”

  Enola came out of his room, hackles raised, growling.

  “Easy, girl.” He knew she could smell the puppy’s blood, the vet, and his own fear. “I’ll just bring him in where it’s safe and quiet.” He moved past her to the closet, squatted down, and laid Scout on the blankets inside. He backed away to let her in, watching for any sign that she might harm her offspring.

  She shot a look over her shoulder, then moved into the closet and started licking. Liz had been concerned about the stitches, but they looked—his breath caught—no. He gripped his head, staring at the sharp, straight cuts, neatly stitched. No!

  Enola looked up, sensing his sudden fear. Dread filled his chest. He’d need a sample of that thread to send to the lab for a match. And if it matched the raccoon thread, what did that mean?

  Experimentation? Research? She must have a reason for not voicing it when he’d shown her the animals. Another cog turned. If she could do that, then—Scout?

  The breath left him. Sharp slices, like a blade, a scalpel. He had no proof, no evidence. He didn’t want to believe it. Why would she hurt—Tia.

  He had told her no one would see, but what if someone had? What other reason could there be? He stared down at Scout, barely responsive. His chest felt cold.

  And then he remembered the mayor in his yard. He went out, barely hiding his scowl. “Sorry to keep you waiting. What did you need?”

  Mayor Buckley handed him an embossed invitation. The Founders’ Luncheon. He could not be serious. Jonah looked up.

  “Noon today.”

  “I’m not a founder.”

  “Neither are half of them on the board. It’s about solidarity. About caring for Redford. I want you to hear the speakers so you’ll understand the big picture.”

  “I have two investigations that require my attention. I don’t have time—”

  “Have the sheriff back you up on that if the officers we pay aren’t enough.” The mayor flashed his smile. “I’ll see you there.”

  Cursing, he went inside and changed into his full uniform, armed himself again, then stopped when Sarge came out of his room. “I know you never saw combat, Sarge. But did you ever want to kill?”

  Twenty-Six

  All are good and happy. The blessing of unity still dwells amongst us and oh what a blessing, it should make all else pass into nothing.

  —CATHERINE MCAULEY

  Tia went into the shop, amazed that it could feel so foreign already. She moved through it to the back room, like a ghost that had once occupied a space and couldn’t understand why it was still there. She grabbed card stock from a shelf and started making signs. Once her merchandise sold, she wouldn’t enter this store again.

  She put the big sign in the window, the smaller ones around on the shelves. Then she started making calls, Mary Carson first, then the others who had faithfully supported her. With the hint of a smile, she included Ruth. In the back room, she sorted and discarded everything she would have no use for, going to the front when Mary and others came in to buy out her stock.

  “So,” Mary said. “A new direction.”

  “I hope it’s the right one. It’s taken me long enough to find it.”

  “Well, nothing is wasted. The Lord is infinitely resourceful.”

  Tia tipped her head. “Where have I heard that before?”

  “You mean Carolyn’s pet phrase?”

  They laughed.

  Mary cocked her head. “When I got your message, I thought you might be depressed, but you seem … joyful.”

  “I’m peaceful even though I should be frantic.”

  “A good indication you’re on the right path.”

  “Thanks, Mary. Thank you for all the candles you’ve bought all the years I’ve been open. And for your example. And your friendship.”

  Mary’s eyes teared. “I’ll thank you for those last two right back. But you sound as though you’re leaving.”

  “I don’t know. When the house sells and I have no income …” She shrugged with a rueful smile. “See why I should be frantic?”

  “Just look for that open door.” Their hug lasted moments longer than any before.

  She went into the back and pulled out bins of wick and scents and dyes. When the bell signaled another customer, she went forward and paused. “Liz.”

  She sent her gaze around the store. “You’re closing?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  Not her business, especially after the other night, but maybe Liz still needed a friend. “I’ve done this a long time. I need a change.”

  “Why now?”

  Tia shrugged a shoulder. “Have you ever been going along and suddenly you realize it’s all wrong? It’s as though you’ve awakened from a paralyzing sleep and what you believed, everyth
ing you thought you knew, is different.”

  Liz shoved out her arm like a traffic guard. “Stop it.”

  Tia raised her brows.

  “You can’t know how it is. You are not like me. You are not special, not …”

  “I wasn’t trying to speak for you, Liz. I’m speaking for myself.”

  “You’re a liar.” Her eyes narrowed. “You lied when you said you and Jonah were through.”

  How would she know they weren’t? “It’s complicated with Jonah.”

  “No. It’s simple. He told me he’d stop it if he could.”

  That had a ring of truth.

  “You think he can’t love someone like me.” Pain reddened the fair skin around her pale blue eyes. “But he said if it weren’t for you, he would.”

  How would she handle this if it were a Hopeline call? “Liz—”

  “Why couldn’t you let him go?” Her face contorted, but before tears came, it went flat as a mask. “You should have let him go.”

  The disembodied tone chilled her.

  Liz turned and went out the door Piper had pulled open.

  Head cocked, Piper pressed in. “Was that as freaky as it sounded?”

  Tia bound her hair back with her hands, more shaken than she’d realized.

  “Like Fatal Attraction freaky?” Piper hugged herself. “We won’t find a dead—omigosh.”

  Tia’s jaw fell slack. “Don’t. Don’t go there. It can’t be.”

  “The raccoons, Tia. She’s a veterinarian. And she’s whacked.”

  Her head spun.

  Piper gripped her arm. “We have to tell Jonah.”

  Tia shook her head. “He’s been with her. He’d have seen it.”

  “He didn’t see her like this. It sent a shudder up my back.” Tia paced. “Why would a veterinarian torture animals?”

  “Maybe it’s not torture.”

  “You don’t think clawing and chewing themselves apart is torture?”

  “Of course. But maybe that wasn’t her intention.”

  “We don’t know for sure it was—”

  “Tia. Who else would know how to surgically remove and reconnect organs?”

  Tia pressed her hands to her face. It made some horrible sense—unless she thought about Liz and tried to imagine. “It can’t be.”

  “What I just saw, the way she looked at you, there’s one word.” Piper shuddered. “Malevolent.”

  Jonah had never heard such blow-hards. He should be doing his job, not feigning a starry-eyed interest in the droning erudition. When at last it was over, he shook the mayor’s hand, told him the event had been enlightening, and made his escape. Noticing a missed a call, he returned it.

  “Hello?”

  “Sorry I missed your call. I was enduring the Founders’ Luncheon at the mayor’s command and am now properly illuminated.”

  Tia laughed. “I’ve missed that dry humor.”

  He reached his Bronco and got in. “What did you need?”

  “You don’t think I called just to hear your voice?”

  “My ego would say yes. My highly developed cop sense says no.” He started the engine.

  “I know you’re really busy—”

  “Actually, I was coming to see you.”

  “You were?”

  He backed out of the slot. “I have to tell you something you won’t like.”

  A pause. “I guess I do too.”

  That did not sound good. “I’m just up the street. I’ll see you in a minute.”

  “Okay.”

  He parked outside her shop, and she met him at the door with Piper by her side. Past closing time for the bakery, he still hadn’t expected her there. “Talk to me.”

  “It’s about Liz, Jonah. I don’t think she’s handling your breakup well.”

  “Breakup? I told you—”

  “Her perception at least.” She held his eyes with a sober intensity.

  “Why don’t you tell me what happened.”

  Tia recounted the conversation, then Piper jumped in. “You had to see it to understand. Her face was livid, then went all flat like it didn’t belong to her. Totally freaky.”

  Back to Tia. “Did she threaten you?”

  “No.”

  Piper added, “She didn’t have to. It was like Fatal Attraction. And then we thought—well, I thought—she might boil a bunny or something and then we remembered the raccoons. And think about it. She’s an animal surgeon.”

  For the second time that day, he went cold.

  Tia pressed a palm to her temple. “I know it sounds psychotic.”

  Piper turned to her. “You should know. You’re the expert.”

  He canted a glance. “Expert?”

  “Hardly.”

  “She has a master’s degree in clinical psychology.”

  Jonah stared. He couldn’t help it. “When did that happen?”

  Tia glanced up. “I took courses online.”

  Somehow that was harder to digest than Liz. Not that she couldn’t do it, but that she’d done it without him knowing. Nine years of things he didn’t know. “So what do you think? Is she psychotic?”

  “I’m really not qualified to say. That takes all kinds of tests.”

  “Tell me your gut.”

  She raised and dropped her shoulders. “I was concerned enough to call.”

  He glanced at Piper. “Can you give us a minute?”

  She beamed. “I can give you a minute and more.” She headed for the door. “I’ll be hanging at Java Cava.”

  When she’d gone, he took Tia’s hands, drew a breath, and said, “I think Liz was watching us this morning.”

  “What?”

  “I guess your Spidey sense is pretty hot.”

  She tipped her head. “How do you know?”

  “I don’t.” He swallowed. “But … I think she cut Scout.”

  “What?” She squeezed the blood from his hands.

  “I found him in the woods. She must have immobilized Enola long enough to get at him.”

  “Please tell me Scout’s okay.”

  “He was alive when I left him. I brought him to Liz before—” He beat back the emotion. “Before I had any idea. But the wounds were sharp, not ragged, and have the same neat sutures as the cats and raccoons.”

  She slumped. “If she hurt a helpless animal to punish you, that’s escalation, right? You can arrest her?”

  “I don’t have enough for a warrant.”

  “You have Scout.”

  “Who was neither disemboweled nor joined. The only physical evidence might be the thread, but even if it matches, it’s not enough for a warrant. Anyone could get that kind of surgical thread. Anyone can sew stitches.”

  “But you know she was there.”

  “I didn’t see her. Did you?”

  Tia turned away and paced. “Why was she there? Has she been watching you? stalking you?”

  “That’s a weird thought.”

  “By hurting Scout, she forced contact. She knew you’d bring him to her, that you’d need her.”

  It sickened him to think it.

  “Maybe even the raccoons were to get your attention.” Something bizarre enough for the chief to take notice.

  He shook his head. “I can’t see that.”

  “You don’t think someone could set up scenarios that prompted interaction?”

  “She didn’t initiate it. I went to her with those raccoons.” Then he realized what Tia meant. If she’d set that up—no, too complicated. She couldn’t have known Piper would bring it to his attention. Whatever had developed, it happened after he initiated contact. He was the one who’d kept calling, kept asking for assistance. He was the one who had made it personal. But she’d taken it too far.

  “You talked to her, Tia. Is she angry enough to hurt you?”

  “Me? I was worried about you.”

  He brought his palm to her cheek. “You should know by now, I’m indestructible. So answer my question.”

  “She
didn’t seem angry as much as sad—a deep, soul-weary sad. Like she regretted …”

  “What she did?”

  Tia pressed her cheek into his hand. “Or might do.”

  He tipped her face up. “Is she a danger to herself or someone else?”

  “I don’t know, Jonah. I haven’t had clinical experience. I talk to people on a prayer line. I don’t know what crazy looks like.”

  The bell over the door rang. “You’re not really closing, are you?”

  She drew back. He brought his hand to his side. Tia turned to a small, middle-aged man.

  “Your candles are my wife’s favorite thing. Without you, what will I give her?”

  “Mort.” Tia turned with a smile that sent a spear to Jonah’s heart.

  For nine years, in countless ways she had impacted people’s lives, and he hadn’t been part of it. He watched her now, treating a customer like an old friend—and maybe he was. The spear sank deeper. She had college degrees, a prayer line, a thriving business, and more people than she realized who appreciated her. If something happened to her …

  No way. He’d spend the rest of his life—he expelled his breath. Yeah—the rest of his life taking care of her.

  She sent Mort out the door with a box full of candles.

  Jonah took her hands. “I want to marry you.”

  Her lips parted. Her eyes kindled, but with what, he couldn’t tell.

  “We lost the last nine years. I can’t get that back, but I want to be the guy who knows what his wife loves—and gives it to her.”

  “Jonah.”

  “Remember the first time I saw you?”

  “On the playground?”

  “I was on the slide. You were standing there, so tiny, your hair like a dark flame, your eyes looking right through me.”

  “Yours were black and blue.”

  “I looked down at you, and it was like the earth shifted.”

  Tears welled up in her eyes. “But you chose Reba.”

  He pressed her knuckles against his mouth, then tucked both hands beneath his chin. “I’m not calling that insignificant. For whatever reason, that’s there and I can’t change it. But you’re the one who’s always been inside me.”

  A tear broke free and slid down her cheek. She was shaking her head when his pager went off. He checked it and frowned. “I have to go.” He raised and searched her face. “Dinner tonight. Seven thirty?”