by D. C. Brod
Jack pushed me toward the bed and my mother scrunched out her cigarette. “What’s going on?”
Bix had started barking, but was keeping his distance from Landis.
“Don’t worry, Mom.”
She drew the blanket up over her chest and ran flighty fingers through her hair.
“I’ve seen you before,” she said to Jack, but Jack was watching me and, it seemed, Bix, who still wouldn’t come within five feet of him.
“Shut that mutt up,” he said.
I scooped up Bix and held him to my chest. Probably the only reason Landis hadn’t killed my dog was because he didn’t want to fire his gun. Bix started squirming, but I pulled him tighter.
Focusing on me, he said, “You know what I want.” He paused. “Now, hand it over.”
Actually, I did know what he wanted. Now I did. But I figured Jack was as clueless as I’d been up until a few minutes ago.
I decided to play with this and see where it went. “I want the letter,” I said.
“You give me what I need, and you’ll get the letter.”
“Let’s see it.”
He pulled it from his pocket. It was a little rumpled, but my mother must have recognized it because I heard her breath catch. “Your turn,” he said.
“It’s in my handbag.”
“Get it.”
I set Bix on the bed. He jumped to the floor and scooted under it. I dug into my bag and pulled out my key ring. From this, I removed the key to my locker at the gym, slid it off the ring, handed it to Jack, and stuffed the keys into my pocket. He looked at it, turned it over a couple of times, then focused on me.
“It opens a storage unit on the east side of Fowler.”
“What’s in it?”
“Bearer bonds. Worth at least a half million.”
“Really?” It was my mother. I pretended I hadn’t heard her.
“Okay,” he said, turning toward my mother. “Get up, Grandma.”
My mother looked from me to Jack and back again, her mouth opening and closing a couple of times.
“You know what’s going to happen to your mother if I don’t find what I’m looking for.”
Then he added, “And don’t get any bright ideas about calling the police. If I get nervous, she’s dead.”
“Robyn?”
How could I have thought my mother would be safer with me than at Dryden?
I pulled the envelope from my pocket and dropped it on the bed. Without taking his eyes—or his gun—from me, Jack bent down to pick it up.
As he examined the front of the envelope, I said, “That stamp is from 1918. That upside down airplane is called an inverted Jenny. It’s a mistake. One recently sold for more than a half million. I don’t know what the other stamps are worth.”
The smile came to him slowly, and when he started to nod, I knew he believed me. “That’s more like it.” He tucked it into his rear pocket.
I didn’t have time to mourn the loss, because I was too busy wondering how he was going to kill us.
Jack cocked his chin. “What the hell’s that?”
Sassy was awake. Faint bleats wafted in through the window.
I was thinking of how I could use that bleat to my benefit when a sharp rap on the door turned us into a tableau.
“Pizza.”
“Just a sec,” I said before Jack could silence me.
“Tell him to leave it by the door,” Jack whispered.
“He’s going to want money,” I whispered back.
“Cindy?” That was when I realized Matt had brought the pizza.
“Just a sec,” I said again and started to dig through my purse. I couldn’t try anything and risk Jack firing that gun. Too many targets in this room were precious to me.
“Ask him how much,” Jack said.
“How much?” I called.
“Seventeen thirty.” Then he added, “I gave the guy a twenty.”
Jack took a position behind the door, so that I could open it and hand Matt the money in exchange for the pizza. Matt would never know that a former date of mine was holding a gun on my mother.
I folded the bill into my palm, desperately trying to think of some way to tip off Matt. Finding none, I opened the door about a foot.
At that moment, Bix darted out from under the bed and bolted out the door. Sheer reflex drove me out after him. I didn’t want him running out on the road or getting lost. Of course, I didn’t want to leave my mother alone with a murderer, but that didn’t come to me until I heard the door slam shut behind me. What had I done?
I grabbed Bix before he got past the parking lot. When I turned, I saw that Matt had followed me with the pizza. He was laughing a little, perhaps at the sight of Bix under my arm. The door was now locked, of course. So I knocked.
“Mom? Open the door please.”
Nothing.
“Mom?”
Still nothing.
“Mother?”
Just as Matt asked if he should get the key, I heard a click and the knob turned. The door opened about three inches and I saw a narrow portion of my mother’s face.
“Come out here, Mom.”
She didn’t move.
“Is that man with you?”
I reached in and gently drew my mother out onto the concrete slab, then stepped into an empty motel room. When I turned to my mother, she said, “He went to the bathroom.”
“What’s going on?” Matt said, attempting to take control. “I thought you said it was just your mom and the dog.”
“We had an uninvited visitor.” I walked into the room, past the twin beds and opened the bathroom door. Empty. And a window over the tub was wide open. Just then I heard a car ignition and tires spinning on gravel as they sought traction.
“Want me to call the cops?” Matt was saying.
“No. He’s gone.” Along with the stamp.
My mother came back in and lowered herself onto her bed, almost in slow motion, as though fighting off exhaustion.
I gave Matt the twenty. I wanted to give him a much larger tip, but my cash supply was running low. “Thanks for showing up when you did.”
Stuffing the bill into his pocket, he looked around the room. Then he said, “Did you hear a sheep a minute ago? Could of sworn I heard a sheep.”
I nodded toward Bix. “That’s Bix. He’s a herding dog.”
Matt gave me an uncertain nod, then said, “Give me a call if you need anything, I’ll be in the office.”
“I will. Thanks again.”
After Matt left, my mother leaned her head back against the pillow. I slumped onto the other bed.
“He never gave it to me,” she said. “I think he was... distracted.”
“We’ll get it back.” I didn’t believe this any more than I believed we’d see the stamp again. But it was the only thing to say.
“Was that true what you said about the stamp?” she asked.
I didn’t trust myself to speak, so I just nodded.
“Robbie left that to me.”
She was looking down at her laced fingers.
“I guess he did.”
“He loved me.”
“He must have.”
She sighed. “Thank goodness we don’t need the money.”
I just looked at her.
“Do we?”
“No, Mom. Not yet.”
I opened the carton of pizza, peeled off a slice from the pepperoni side and gave it to my mother.
“I need to get Sassy now. I may be gone for a few minutes, Mom, but don’t worry.”
Fortunately, she was too taken with the pizza to complain about sharing a room with a goat. I watched her picking a slice of pepper-oni off the cheese and popping it into her mouth. I had to get that letter back for her. At the same time, I wondered if it had ever occurred to her that I needed a letter too. One I’d never get. Knowing that my father, my real father, loved my mother enough to send her a valuable stamp after forty-five years felt good. I was glad to know that my mother
had that kind of love in her life. But what did he think about me? Did he think about me? I guess I spent my life missing the wrong father, though truth be told I didn’t miss him much. How could I? I never knew what it was like to have a father—Wyman wasn’t much in that department—and even if my mother hadn’t lied about him, I doubt I ever could have known Robbie Savage.
I pulled the door shut behind me and locked it. When I returned to the van, Sassy was awake and bleating. He must have gotten scared when he woke to find himself alone because when he saw me, he quieted down. I wasn’t sure how I was going to do this. Finally, I decided to bring him into the room and come back for the crate where I hoped he’d spend the night. I wasn’t sure how smelly goats were, and I figured I’d blame any odd odors on Bix. He was small, but he could be potent.
I led Sassy out behind the motel, which edged up to a wooded area. I knew he wasn’t housebroken, but I hoped maybe if we hung around long enough, he’d get the urge to relieve himself. I waited. Time really flies while waiting for a goat to pee, but I settled on the ground, and as I watched him nibble at the grass, I thought about where we would all be in twenty-four hours. And, although I tried to ignore it, this obnoxious voice in the back of my head kept reminding me that if I’d noticed the odd stamp sooner, none of this would be necessary. Sassy came over to me, looked at me with his disconcerting eyes and uttered a protracted “Whaaaaa.” And again. “Whaaaaa.” I had some pellets in my pocket, so I dug a few out and held them out to him. With the mouthy request, I expected him to gulp them down and then start yammering for more, but he ate what I offered him with dignified enthusiasm. I stroked his back and rubbed behind his ears. He lowered his eyelids and sighed. We were lucky that Sassy was an easy-going creature; I guess that was one reason he and Blood got along. He went back to grazing, jerking tufts of grass from the ground. And then finally, my patience—or lack thereof—was rewarded. Never thought I’d be so happy to watch a goat relieve itself.
When I led Sassy through the door, Bix started barking. Helluva time to get territorial.
My mother set her slice of pizza on the open carton. “That animal is not spending the night here.”
“I’m afraid he has to, Mom.” I patted his back. “He’s clean. He’s empty. He’ll be in the crate.” I sat next to her on the bed. “No one can know I’ve got him.”
“You need to tell me what’s going on, Robyn. I don’t like this one bit. And why am I here?”
“I will, Mom.” I would tell her something.
When I returned with the crate, Sassy was munching a slice of pizza and my mother was trying to shoo him away from the carton.
“Get away, you filthy thing.”
Sassy jerked his head back, taking the slice with him. Bix, siding with my mother for the first time in his five years, stood on the bed next to her and barked at Sassy.
“Everybody, be quiet.”
My mother’s eyes widened, and Bix sat down and shut up.
“We need to get through this night. All of us. Together.” My mother opened her mouth, no doubt to protest, but I cut her off. “There will be no discussion. We are here.” I glanced at my watch. “It is almost one a.m. The night’s almost over.” I wished. “We need to do this. Please don’t ask me any questions.”
Neither my mother nor Bix interrupted as I set up the crate. Once I tossed a slice of pizza in, Sassy followed. I’d also brought some straw in for him. And now I filled the ice bucket with water and placed it in the crate.
“Robyn—”
“Please try to go to sleep.” I wished I’d thought to bring some Grouse.
My mother sighed, and then she said, as though addressing no one in particular. “I just wanted a glass of wine.”
“Yeah, that’d be nice.”
“You don’t have any?”
“No.”
“Could we watch television?”
“Sure.” I turned on the set and was lucky to find a John Wayne movie. Sands of Iwo Jima. He died in the end, but I hoped my mother would be asleep before then.
I looked over at her and the question just came out: “How long were you and my father together?”
“A year,” she answered without taking her eyes off the TV.
“I must have been an unpleasant surprise.”
She continued to stare at the TV, and I thought she’d chosen not to respond. But then she said, “You weren’t a mistake,” and added, “I thought if I were to become pregnant, he’d leave her.”
I watched some actor in a commercial cheerfully gargle, then dip below the camera to spit. I guess I could see how after a year she might think that extreme measures were necessary. How different would our lives have been if he had left his wife? In a way, I was surprised she’d kept me. My mother has no pro-life leanings whatsoever.
“It wasn’t your fault,” she said, and I thought I understood then. If I’d been an accident, I might not be sitting here. But I wasn’t—a bad move, perhaps, but not an accident. And so she had to deal with me. And, maybe she held out the hope that Robbie would come after her. When he finally did, it was too late.
I was mulling this over when, out of the blue, my mother said, “Why don’t you think we ever got along?”
“I don’t know.” Maybe because you resented my intruding on your life. Even though I’d been invited.
“I think we may be too much alike.”
I looked over at her and saw that she was serious. “How do you figure that?” I asked.
“Well, we’re both rather self-centered.”
Here I was sitting in a motel with my mother, my dog and a goat, biding my time until I could collect the ransom money, all so she wouldn’t have to move out of Dryden. Words failed me.
She continued, “That must be why you won’t let anyone into your life. Other that that dog.” Who happened to be curled up at the foot of her bed. “You can’t even make room for your mother.”
“We tried it, Mom. It didn’t work.”
“We did?”
I nodded. It was possible that she remembered the time after her stint in the nursing home as a dream. A bad one. “You stayed with me for a few months. Remember?”
The haze of confusion lifted slightly and she nodded. “It might have been better if you’d had a larger place.”
“It’s what I had.” The two-bedroom had been small. Even for one person.
“Well, once I get the money from that stamp, maybe I could buy a larger place for you.”
A glance in her direction revealed that the suggestion had not been made to provoke me. She lay on her back, hands folded at her chest with her head propped up against the flimsy veneer headboard.
The room went silent then, and after a few minutes I realized she’d fallen asleep. Bix was scrunched up next to her leg and Sassy lay in his crate, watching me with his strange, amber eyes.
I stretched out on the other bed thinking I should have been relieved that my mother had decided to explore our personal relationship rather than interrogate me about our present situation. I looked over at her, taking a moment to marvel at the fact that she was asleep. I knew she often spent much of the night wandering the floor, chatting with the nurses or dozing off in a chair. But tonight, with a goat in her room and a dog at the end of her bed, she slept. Strange where you found comfort.
It was after one. I needed my strength for what was to come. I had to call Bull, but I would also place a call to Erika. I doubted I’d get hold of her. She and her brother were probably on a flight out of the country by now, with my mother’s stamp and her letter in a carry-on bag. But I would call her. If only to hear the no-longer-in-use message.
I thought of the letter, saddened by its loss. I wanted to read it, to hear the voice of my father. Now I wouldn’t get that chance.
I tried to decide if I did fit into my mother’s “self-centered” frame, but I couldn’t hold on to a thought anymore and was starting to doze off when my phone vibrated against my hip. This time it was Hedges. What could I t
ell him? I almost didn’t answer, but then thought better of it. Didn’t want him thinking I’d come to harm and have the Fowler PD looking for me.
“You okay?” was the first thing he said.
“Yeah, but I had another run-in with him.”
“What happened?”
“I was worried about my mother and I took her to a motel. West of town. I guess he managed to follow us. As it turned out it wasn’t the letter he wanted. It was the envelope. There’s a stamp on it worth a lot of money. It’s called an Inverted Jenny.”
“And he’s got it now?”
“Yeah,” I sighed, then proceeded to explain what had happened, omitting any references to a goat.
“Where are you? I’ll send someone out there.”
“No, that’s okay. My mother’s sleeping now. I’m half asleep. He’s gone. He’s got what he wants. He won’t be back. Maybe his sister knows where he is.”
“We thought to question her,” he said, sounding a little sarcastic. But when he added that I should call him in the morning, he sounded concerned again.
I promised him I would, wondering to myself if that would be before or after I called Bull with the drop-off instructions.
I closed my eyes hoping that even the wicked deserved what was left of a good night’s sleep. But all I could think of was how Erika had known about the goat. Every path my mind took led me to the same conclusion: the woman really was psychic.
CHAPTER 20
It was true. The wicked really couldn’t count on rest. I woke to a darkened, unfamiliar room, and it took until I dug my phone from my pocket for me to remember where I was. It took another moment to focus and when I did I saw Mick’s home number glaring at me from the phone’s display. Just above it, the time digits read 3:18.
“What’s wrong?” I answered.
“Tell me you’ve got the goat,” Mick said.
“Hold on.” I didn’t want to conduct this conversation with my mother in the room. My eyes had adjusted to the dim light and the shapes of her and Bix on the other bed. Sassy shifted in his cage, but didn’t make a fuss. I shut myself in the small, yellow bathroom, lowered the toilet lid and took a seat. Then I pulled in a deep breath and said into the phone, “Okay, Mick. I can talk now. What were you saying?”
