by Jo Crow
It was too much.
“What do you think I should do?” I asked, broken. “I need to… I need to finish filming the documentary. But what am I supposed to do when the townspeople are acting like this? When they’re so eager to take their so-called justice into their own hands?”
There was silence. I thought the call had been disconnected, but right as I was about to take the phone away from my ear to check, I heard Detective Elkins sigh.
“Clara? I know you’re frightened, and we both know what happened to you isn’t legal and should be stopped. We’re prepared to help you, but we can’t be on you at all hours of the day. Not with the limited manpower we currently have available. Not with an active double murder investigation. Realistically, the best we can do right now is take scrapings from beneath your fingernails for DNA testing, to see if you got any of his skin, but the time it takes to get results back? It’s not going to make a damn bit of difference to what’s happening to you around town. You didn’t get his license plate number, did you?”
“No. I couldn’t even bring myself to get up off the ground I was so afraid.”
“So you have no physical description, other than he was tall. You’ve potentially got DNA evidence, but that’s going to take more time than you’re going to be around to investigate. There might be security cameras at the grocery store, but if he’s as well masked as you say he was, I’m not sure it’s going to make a difference. Even if we get the plate, there’s no telling who the vehicle actually belonged to. The investigation is going to drag, and all of our resources are focused on figuring out who killed your parents, and who dug them up after all this time.”
What he meant to say was that he was investigating me. I knew where Detective Elkins’s beliefs lay, and that there was no way to change his mind. But I was angry. “You told me to call if I felt threatened.”
He surprised me with a change of tone; his voice was softer. “It sounds harsh, but I’m being realistic. We can open an investigation, but it’s not going to offer you the protection you need right now. The best advice I can give you is to take his advice. I know I told you to stay close, but I’m releasing you as far as Charlotte; head over there; I can send you addresses of some safe boarding houses. You could commute every day until you finish filming. Lowery has security; they could keep an eye out. The drive is a bitch, especially on those curved roads, so make sure you leave early and take it slow. I wish I could help you more.”
“I understand.” I croaked the response, close to tears again. I didn’t want to be chased out. Even if Hickory Hills was small and close-minded, it was my hometown. I’d grown up here. There were people who’d once been stable parts of my life. But now? Now I suffered their wrath. “Thank you.”
“Do you need to go to the emergency room?”
“No.” My torn nail beds stung, and the dull ache in my shoulders that crept down my spine wasn’t likely to abate soon, but I was fine. Terrified, but still in one piece.
“If anything else happens, call me. Call the police if you feel threatened. We’re here to help.”
“Thanks.”
I couldn’t have called for help if I’d wanted to—the man in the mask was too quick; he hadn’t given me the chance. I knew if I was attacked again, there was no guarantee I’d be able to get through to the police in time—and from what Elkins had told me, no guarantee that anyone would come.
I had to be more careful.
Gino was right.
I wouldn’t run, but I needed to be careful. I needed to make sure I kept a low profile.
Step three was simple when I thought of it like that—get through the night.
21
The extra-large box of pizza was left open on the coffee table, the white plastic wedge once sunk into its center now discarded to the side. James, totally silent, ate pizza while he did his best to stay awake. Trans fats weren’t good for him but, that night, I was willing to make an exception. One night wouldn’t make a difference. If he could stay awake long enough to eat a meal with such a high caloric content, I was willing to let his diet slip a little. In the morning we’d go back to the same old routine. At that moment, though, I could barely function.
Amanda ate a little more thoughtfully, her eyes on me as if she could read my thoughts and knew exactly what I’d been through. When she finished her slice, she wiped her hands on a paper towel from the kitchen, then turned her attention to James.
“So, little man, isn’t it time for the television show you like?”
James’s face brightened. A slice of pizza dangling from one hand, its toppings likely five seconds from sliding off and falling on the floor, he jumped off the couch and waddled toward the television like he was in a trance. Amanda laughed and used the remote to turn on the screen and, soon enough, James was planted in front of the television, mesmerized, as his show played.
Amanda sat beside me, tucked her knees to her chest, and rested her chin atop them. She gave me a long stare, then sighed and ran her hands down her jeans. “Something happened.”
“It’s… okay. I’m dealing with it.”
“That look in your eyes isn’t saying the same thing. It looks like you’re barely holding it together.” Amanda frowned. “I know things aren’t great right now, but we’re friends, Clara. You can tell me what’s bothering you. I’m not like the rest of them, you know. We’ve been through shit together, and I know you. I know there’s no way you could have done something like that to your parents, and your father’s company falling apart wasn’t your fault. You did what you had to do. It wasn’t an easy choice.”
The validation felt good. I managed a smile. “I feel like my world is falling apart, you know? I thought I had life figured out, and I had faith in people, but then I came back here and I feel like I don’t know anything anymore.”
“What do you mean?”
I didn’t want to tell her what had happened at the grocery store. When I’d returned to her place, I’d stowed the chicken in the fridge and tried to forget the attack even happened. With James around, I couldn’t let myself be triggered. I needed to be strong for him.
And that meant, until he was safely asleep, I wouldn’t say a peep to my best friend. I couldn’t be certain I wouldn’t break down and start crying all over again.
“I’ve been finding out things about my father I rather wouldn’t know.” That was safe. I didn’t want to drag up the past too much, especially since Amanda had been so emotionally devastated by it, but I also knew she wouldn’t leave me alone until she had her answer. It seemed a fair compromise.
Amanda sighed. “Oh.”
“I guess all of us have a perception of our parents warped by our upbringing, right?” I couldn’t bring myself to look at her—I knew the subject was sensitive. “All this time I thought he was a good, virtuous man, but I’m starting to think maybe the apple didn’t fall so far from the tree.”
Amanda snorted. “What, your dad was boy crazy?”
“No.” I glared at her playfully. It was just like her to make me feel better, even when it came to the most serious topics. “I mean, he wasn’t… he wasn’t faithful to my mother, and I had no idea. I always thought they were a perfect family and I was the black sheep, but I guess that wasn’t really the case.”
“It’s honestly a little gross, thinking about it.” Amanda sighed. “I knew your dad was kind of… weird, I guess… but looking back, it’s a little creepy. I remember him hanging around my mom. You don’t think your dad and my mom were… you know?”
I didn’t want to tell her. I ducked my gaze. “I don’t know. Maybe.”
“Imagine if all this time we were actually sisters?” Amanda wrinkled her nose, then laughed. “God. I guess it would explain why we get along so well, and why our lives are kind of shaping up to be the same. We were both rebels in our teenage years, then we mellowed out after high school and went on to get degrees… coincidence? I think not.”
“I don’t think you’re my sister.” I l
aughed, too. “You’re kind of pushing things. I mean, didn’t your mom only start working for my dad after you were born?”
“Details, details.” Amanda fanned a hand at me, then let go of her legs and sat properly on the couch. “You know, even if we’re not actually sisters, you still mean a lot to me. Now that you’re back in my life, I’m never letting you go.”
“I know.”
“So as your sort-of sister, I know when you’re keeping things from me.”
I bit down on my lip and lifted my gaze to look at Amanda. She had an eyebrow raised expectantly.
“Word was going around on Facebook after what happened this afternoon, and it’s kind of hard to hide the fact your face is starting to bruise.”
I lifted a hand to cover my face. Before I’d pulled out of the church parking lot, I’d taken a second to inspect my injuries, and I hadn’t thought they were that bad. The back of my head hadn’t split open, even though it felt wet, and my palms were raw and red, but they would heal. Even my face was in good shape—my nose wasn’t broken, and I hadn’t so much as split a lip.
I hadn’t stopped to think bruising would show.
“No one knows who did it, before you ask, but some people saw and were talking about it.” Amanda pushed her lips to the side. “You weren’t carrying that gun I gave you, were you? If you’d pulled it on him, whoever he was, he would have gotten the message real quick.”
“I haven’t been keeping it on me,” I admitted. The revolver was back in the staff house at the McNair estate. It made me nervous to carry it around, especially with James nearby.
“Girl, why did you think I gave it to you in the first place?” Amanda sighed. “Listen… I know this is our hometown, but if people are going to go around doing that to you, then you need to make sure you’re prepared for them. It doesn’t matter who it is, or if they were kind to you in the past. If someone is threatening you, you need to push back. You need to prove to them you’re not some weak-willed pushover who’s going to let herself be taken advantage of.”
“You think they care?” I asked. The bottom of my stomach had dropped out, and I felt hollow on the inside.
Amanda narrowed her eyes. “I know they care. You’re a pretty girl, Clara. Long, shiny brown hair and a killer bod don’t really scream intimidating. People know they can push you around because you’re pretty, and yeah, it’s sexist to say, but that’s the truth. This whole town? It’s so deeply rooted in tradition that you know half of them think women are inferior.”
I glanced at James, but he was so enthralled by his show I doubted he heard anything.
“Every macho guy in Hickory Hills is going to try to push you around, to intimidate you, and to get you to leave, to prove he’s tough stuff. They want to be the hero. Some of them are going to get rough. Some of them might hurt you. So, before that happens, you need to prove you’re not going to let them jerk you around. You can ask nicely for them to leave you alone, but guys don’t work that way. Unless you give them a reason to back the hell off, they’re not going to.”
“And you think the gun is going to cut it? What happened to ‘let love into your heart’?” I couldn’t help the sarcasm; I was so rattled.
“I know the gun is going to cut it.” Amanda’s expression turned serious. “Listen, I know you don’t like guns, and it’s scary to be armed all the time, but you’re at a place in your life now where you need that protection. After the movie is done, you can leave here and never have to worry about carrying a gun again. But until then, I value you too much to have you die because some dickwad thought he could take justice into his own hands. Your life has a deeper purpose than to end up as some hillbilly’s way to prove to the girl he likes he’s a goddamn hero.”
I knew there was truth in what Amanda said, but acknowledging it was hard. All I wanted was to be treated fairly, but it was clear that wasn’t going to happen.
“So start carrying it, okay? Wear it openly or whatever. It’s legal to open carry in North Carolina, so you’re not going to be stopped from wearing it at your hip. Just don’t conceal it. Concealed weapons are an offense.”
“Thank you.” It was hard to hear, but it was the dose of reality I needed. If I stood up to the horrible things that were happening to me, then they would stop. What I needed was courage, not an escape plan. I had to prove to all of them I wasn’t afraid of their threats, and that I would protect myself.
Amanda reached out and squeezed my arm. “Hey, I want what’s best for you. I’m not letting you die that easily, okay?”
I laughed. “Gee, thanks.”
“Hey, I mean it.” She smiled. “We’re going to get you through this. All this bullying crap going on with the town? That’s not what you need to focus on. What you need to focus on is right here in this room.”
My gaze turned to James who lay on his stomach by the television. His knees were bent, and he kicked his legs back and forth slowly. His chin was rested on his folded arms, and he looked up at the television with awe.
“You’re right,” I murmured. “Why do you have to be so right all the time?”
“One of us has to be.” Amanda stuck out her tongue. “So what are you going to do?”
“I’m going to arm myself,” I said.
“And?”
“And I’m going to prove I can’t be intimidated.” I sat a little straighter and stiffened my shoulders, like I could take on the whole world if I needed to. “I’m going to let them know I can’t be chased out of town, no matter what they do to me. I’m going to let them know I’m not afraid to fight back if provoked.”
“That’s the girl I know and adore.” Amanda stretched and leaned back against the couch, settling in. “So, you want to help me eat the rest of this pizza? I feel like we’re teenagers again. I thought for sure we could take on this monster, but I may have forgotten James was small, and my metabolism isn’t as quick as it used to be.”
“How about I take half for the road?” I asked.
Amanda hitched an eyebrow. “Hmm? Where are you going?”
“Back to the staff house.” I was determined. They could knock me down, but they were never going to get me to back off. I was made of tougher stuff, and Amanda had helped me realize it. “It’s where the gun is but, more than that, it’s going to make a statement. It’s going to tell them in simple terms I’m not going to be going anywhere until I’m ready to leave.”
“I’m so proud of you, Clara.” Amanda’s smile was docile, like the kind a mother might give to her child for doing a good deed without being asked. “You get out there and you show the world you aren’t afraid. No one’s going to keep you down.”
“No one,” I promised, and I meant it.
James fell asleep on the drive back to the house. It was a small blessing because I didn’t want him to know how nervous I was. Amanda’s encouragement was a distant memory. I knew that as long as I stuck to what we’d talked about, I’d be fine, but acting on that was a lot harder than thinking it.
We arrived at the staff house under the cover of night. Before I turned the headlights off, I turned on the flashlight on my cellphone. Without streetlights, I was working in close to total darkness. Unbuckling James from his car seat was a job and a half, and carrying him while I balanced keys and my phone was even more of a challenge, but I did it. I got the tote containing my father’s journals, the pizza, and the chicken I hadn’t had the stomach to eat on my second trip out after tucking him into bed.
Then, even though I was exhausted, I went and found the revolver.
The shoebox had fit nicely on the top shelf of the closet, well out of the reach of a curious two-year-old. I looked down at it, then sucked in a breath and took it from the box. It was heavy in my hand, weightier than I expected it to be, and cold. I didn’t know what I thought it would feel like; compared to the rifle I’d used on the few times I’d been out with my friends on hunting trips, it was different.
I laid the revolver back in the box and took the whole
thing with me to the living room. There, I set it on the coffee table and rooted through the tote to find my father’s earliest journals. I knew he had been involved with Amanda’s mother, but talking with Amanda tonight had stirred my curiosity—I needed to know what happened all those years ago; why Rachel Harwood took her own life, and I felt my father’s journals might be a good place to start.
Even if I couldn’t find closure for myself, I might be able to find some for Amanda.
The earliest journal was from 1995, two years before Rachel’s death. I tracked through the journals until I came across writing dated 1997.
Then I sat back and started to read.
22
January 15, 1997
I slept with her. I know I said I wouldn’t, but I did. She came into my office, all red lips and short skirts, and I bent her over my desk and fucked her until she was too weak to even whisper my name. If anyone found out, it would be a disaster. Clara would never forgive me if news leaked and she moved out. I’ve got to figure out a way to make sure no one knows. I’ve got to—
January 17, 1997
Clara came into the office while I was writing. I need to figure out a way to keep this a secret. No one can find out. I’ve already pissed off enough people. I don’t need Blake Harwood coming after me. Lord knows he’d probably have a small army helping him.
How is it my fault his wife comes to me instead of him?
March 26, 1997
She wants me to end things with Glenda so we can be together. That’s not how this is supposed to be. She knows I’m not in love with her. She scratches an itch, nothing more. What the hell am I going to do?
I’ve got some time to figure this out before it all goes up in smoke. If I let this go on for too long, or if I don’t handle it in the right way, she might end up talking to Glenda. I can’t have that. What we have is temporary and physical, not anything more. I’ve been very clear.
