No One but You--A Novel

by Brenda Novak

  He hoped he’d done the right thing. After Officer Harris had left, he’d almost decided to get the farm up and running—and turning a profit—before bringing Angela home. He’d figured, by then, maybe people would’ve had time to cool off, wouldn’t be so angry and determined to persecute him. But Angela wasn’t happy where she was, so he couldn’t wait. He was too stubborn to let the arrogant ass who’d threatened him tell him what to do, anyway.

  Once he reached the top of the stairs, he paused, as he always did, to stare at the closed door looming at the end of the hallway. The two people he’d loved most in the world had been murdered behind that door. When he thought of his parents, of what he’d encountered the night they were killed, he felt so much anger and grief he didn’t know what to do. He tried to funnel it into his work, in the promises he told himself about the future and how he’d eventually find justice. But sometimes, the loss still hit him like a tidal wave, made him want to fight someone, anyone. Or he had to contend with a debilitating sadness that stole over him like wisps of fog, chilling him to the bone.

  He reached for the knob, made sure the door was still locked, then dropped his hand. Aiyana Turner, the administrator of New Horizons, the boys ranch here in town where he’d gone to high school, had done her best to board up the place—as soon as the police gave her permission to come onto the property. She’d offered to clean up the blood for him, too. She was the only one, it seemed, who still had a kind word for him, who believed he was innocent. But he’d told her to leave the scene exactly as it was. He felt there might be some clue, some piece of evidence the police had missed that he could use to find the man who killed them—and he wouldn’t rest until he did. After everything he’d lost, everything he’d been through, he’d find justice eventually.

  His cell phone rang. Someone from the Stanley DeWitt Assisted Living Center in Los Angeles, where they’d taken his sister, was trying to reach him. He’d spoken to a member of their staff almost every day since he got home.

  He needed to remove his dirty clothes and shower before he could lie down, so he finished the short journey to his room and sank into the wooden chair by the desk he’d been using to apply for the loan on the farm, handle the paperwork for assuming guardianship of Angela and create the spreadsheets that charted out the farm acreage, growth time, projected earnings and cash flow. “Hello?”

  “Mr. Reed?”

  He’d been legally adopted by Lonnie and Larry when he was fifteen, had used their last name ever since. He certainly didn’t want to claim the name he’d been born with. The Reeds were the only ones who’d ever given a damn about him. “Yes.”

  “It’s Megan. From Stanley DeWitt.”

  She’d called before. He recognized the name. “What’s going on, Megan?”

  “I’m sorry to bother you again, but... I thought maybe if you spoke to your sister, she’d cooperate with me.”

  Fighting the exhaustion that hung on his arms and legs like wrist and ankle weights, he covered a yawn. “What’s she doing?”

  “She’s been up since six this morning, but she won’t put on her pajamas and go to bed. She insists you’re coming to get her tonight.”

  “Tonight.”

  “Yes. She’s waiting by the door, her purse on her arm, her coat buttoned to the top, even though it’s too warm for that in here.”

  Dawson sighed as he pictured his sister stubbornly resisting the young Megan’s pleas. The image that came to mind broke his heart. Not being able to help Angela had been as bad as everything else. “Let me talk to her.”

  “Yes, sir. One sec.”

  “It’s your brother,” he heard as she transferred the phone.

  Angela came on the line almost immediately, her voice eager. “Dawson? Where are you?”

  “I’m at home, honey. I can’t come tonight. I told you I have to get the house cleaned up before they’ll let me bring you here.”

  “Then clean it! Why aren’t you cleaning it?”

  “I am cleaning it. I’m doing a lot of other things, too—things that take time. I need you to be patient. I’ll come for you as soon as I can. I promise.”

  “Okay. I’ll wait here.” She handed the phone to Megan, but that had been too easy, so easy that Dawson knew Angela still didn’t understand. He had Megan put her right back on the line.

  “It won’t be tonight,” he reiterated. “I’m not coming now. It might be as long as a week. These things take time.”

  “How long is a week?”

  “Seven days.”

  “Seven days!” She groaned as if he’d said seven years. “That’s forever!”

  “That’s how it has to be. Moving you requires some paperwork, too, and it’s the paperwork that takes the longest. They won’t let me pick you up until everything’s done.”

  “But it’s been so long.” She started to cry. “I don’t like it here, Dawson. Come get me now.”

  “I’ll come as soon as I can, honey. I just... I need you to listen to Megan and get ready for bed. If you cooperate, the time will go faster for everyone. Then, before you know it, you’ll be home.”

  She sniffed. “Will I get to see Mom and Dad? Or are they still dead?”

  Dawson scrubbed a hand over his face. She had no concept of death, of forever. She only knew that she missed the people who’d always been there for her. He missed them, too. “They’re still dead. They’ll always be dead. But I’ll take you to see their graves and try to help you understand when you get home.”

  “They’ll come back,” she said, supremely confident. “I know they will.”

  “They can’t, Angela.”

  “Yes, they can!”

  “We’ll talk about it later. For now, listen to Megan, please? Put on your pajamas and get into bed. Megan doesn’t need you to make her night difficult.”

  “You’ll be here in the morning?”

  “What did I tell you?” he asked.

  “I don’t know,” she replied, and cried even louder.

  “It’ll be a week. I’ll be there in seven days. Have Megan count them on your fingers.” He wasn’t positive he could get there in exactly seven days, which was why he’d been careful not to name a date so far. But after what they’d been through the past year, dangling a “soon” out there wasn’t comforting to her anymore. Angela needed a concrete figure, something Megan could circle on the calendar and she could look forward to in a more definite way.

  He hated the thought that he might have to disappoint her at the end of the week—due to circumstances beyond his control—but it was better than disappointing her every night, like he was doing now.

  “A week,” she repeated with another sniff.

  “Seven days.”

  “Megan? When is a week?” he heard her ask.

  There was some shuffling as he heard Megan start to count, “One, two, three...”

  “Seven takes too long,” Angela said, discouraged again, when Megan was finished.

  “It won’t be that long. Have Megan get the calendar and show you how far Christmas is, and you’ll see that a week is soon. Very soon.”

  After Megan went through the months with her, and the many, many days until Christmas, Angela finally relented. “Okay. I’ll go to bed. Tomorrow will be one day, right?”

  “Yes.” He covered another yawn as Megan thanked him and disconnected. After that, he tried to get up so he could remove his boots, take off his clothes and shower—but wound up falling asleep with his head facedown on the desk.

  3

  Sadie passed a restless night. She hadn’t heard from Sly since their conversation at the park, but she knew he wouldn’t go about minding his own business. He’d blindside her with something, sometime, which was why she kept looking out the window, watching for his squad car. If he was working, he’d think nothing
of stopping by in the middle of the night and dragging her out of bed to continue their argument—regardless of what she had to do the next day. Even if he wasn’t working, he could drop by very late. He’d done it before.

  Fortunately, she didn’t hear from him. But even when she wasn’t getting up to check her windows and make sure her doors were locked, she was lying on the mattress she shared with Jayden, wondering what it was going to be like juggling two jobs for a couple of weeks. She’d be putting in long hours; it wouldn’t be easy.

  She kept telling herself she’d muddle through, but the closer it came to morning, the more nervous she grew. Her shift at Lolita’s would go fast. She’d been there for three years, ever since Jayden had been potty-trained (what Sly required in order to watch him), so it had become almost second nature. She just hoped what she had to do in the afternoon wouldn’t be too difficult or upsetting. Dawson had said she’d clean the house. But no way would she let him assign her the Reeds’ bedroom. She hoped someone had already taken care of the blood that had been spilled there...

  She hurried to focus on something else before she lost the nerve to go there at all. Did Dawson even have cleaning supplies? Or would she need to bring some with her?

  She called him after she got up in the morning to check, before taking Jayden to Petra’s.

  “Hello?” His voice, deep and filled with a bit of gravel, was easily recognizable from the few minutes she’d spent with him during the interview.

  “It’s Sadie Harris.”

  There was a long pause. Then he said, “Please don’t tell me you’re already calling to quit.”

  She gripped her phone that much tighter. Should she? That was what Maude and Sly wanted her to do. If her parents were alive, she’d be willing to bet they, too, would weigh in on the side of keeping her distance. But, in spite of caution, she heard herself say, “No. I’m calling to see if you’d like me to pick up anything before I come.”

  “You mean like groceries?”

  “If you need them.”

  “That’d be great. I’ve been meaning to get back to the store, but...there hasn’t been time.”

  She couldn’t imagine shopping would be fun for him, anyway. The second he walked through the doors of the local supermarket, everyone would stop and stare. It was even possible the checker would refuse to ring him up. That was how hostile Silver Springs felt toward him. “What should I get?”

  “I have oatmeal and eggs. That’s about it.”

  “So...maybe some bread, lunch meat and fruit? Stuff like that?”

  “Sure. And whatever else you like to eat. I don’t want you going hungry while you’re out here. Something for dinner would be nice.”

  What was he surviving on? Oatmeal and eggs, even in the evenings? “Okay. I’ll swing by the store. What about cleaning supplies?”

  “You’d better get that sort of thing, too.”

  “What do you need me to clean?”

  “The whole house.”

  “The whole house?” she echoed.

  She knew he’d heard her uncertainty, and understood the reason for it, when he quickly amended that comment. “Everything that’s not closed off. I mean...the space I’m using. The living room, the dining area, the kitchen, two bathrooms, my bedroom and Angela’s. I’ll deal with the master when...when I can.”

  She took his response to mean it hadn’t been cleaned. That she’d be working in a house where two people had been murdered and the blood hadn’t even been washed from the walls and carpet made her feel slightly ill. But she wasn’t sure she should let that change her mind. She’d known about the murders before she went out to meet with him.

  Still, she didn’t want to see that room, let alone touch anything. Maybe he felt the same. Maybe that was why he’d closed it off. “What supplies do you have now?”

  “Not much. To be honest, I haven’t had a chance to think about that sort of thing. All of my work so far has been outside.”

  “So furniture polish, disinfectant, dishwashing soap, toilet bowl cleaner, oven cleaner, a powdered cleanser and some rags? Do you have a toilet bowl brush?”

  “No. Grab one of those, too. Most everything was stolen or trashed while I was...away, so I threw all the broken bits and pieces in the pile of garbage out front. I didn’t have time to sort and salvage. I needed some space to be able to live so I could get out on the land.”

  “What are you going to do about that pile?”

  “Get rid of it. I’ve hired someone to haul it away this weekend.”

  “I see.” If he was as innocent as he claimed, the day he saw what others had done to his house must’ve been very difficult. She couldn’t imagine showing up to find her home in such poor shape, the blood of her parents still in their bedroom upstairs. How was he living there let alone working?

  And if he wasn’t innocent?

  Sadie wouldn’t consider that. She’d decided to trust the jury’s verdict, hadn’t she? “What about a vacuum?” she asked as she switched the phone to her other ear.

  “Don’t have one. Someone... Never mind. I threw that out along with everything else. How much do you think a new one’ll cost?”

  More than she could front, and she didn’t get the impression he had money to burn, either. “I’ll bring one. We can limp by using mine for a while.”

  “That’s very nice of you. Do you have a credit card or something to put the purchases on until I can reimburse you? If not, feel free to swing by and pick up some cash to take with you.”

  “I’ve got a little room on my card.” She should be able to get a few things—at least enough that she’d be able to work today.

  “Okay. Thanks.”

  Jayden came out of their bedroom in his Spider-Man pajamas, rubbing his eyes. “Mommy? Why are you awake when it’s dark?”

  Sadie covered the speaker on her phone. “Because it’s almost morning, handsome. We need to get you dressed and over to Petra’s. Can you go potty for me first?”

  With a tired nod, he went into the bathroom, and she spoke into the phone again. “I’ll be there as soon as I get off at the diner.”

  “I’ll be in the north field. Come find me, and I’ll let you in.”

  “Okay.”

  “Mommy?” Jayden called with some emergency. “The toilet won’t flush!”

  “I’m coming, babe.” Sadie was afraid he’d filled it with toilet paper again. She had no idea how or why he’d developed such a fascination for stopping up the toilet, but she wished she had remembered and gone into the bathroom with him to protect the plumbing. “I’ve gotta go,” she told Dawson.

  “You can bring your son here, you know,” Dawson said. “He’ll be safe.”

  “That’s okay. We’ll see if I survive the day first.” She laughed as if she was making a joke, but when he didn’t respond, she cursed herself for being so insensitive. She’d been trying to feel safer by making light of the danger. Instead, she’d rubbed salt into what had to be a very painful wound.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “That wasn’t funny.”

  He made no comment on the subject. “I’ll see you when you get here.”

  “It’ll be at least one.”

  “Understood.”

  She started to hang up, but he spoke again. “Sadie?”

  “Yes?”

  “You don’t have anything to worry about over here.”

  Could she believe him? He sounded sincere. But she’d once been in love with a man she could no longer stand. That showed how easy it was to be fooled, didn’t it? “Good to know. Thank you for trying to reassure me.”

  After another pause, he said, “You’re not going to ask me if I killed them?”

  Them being his parents, of course. What else could he be referring to? “Would you tell me if you did?”
/>   “No, I guess I wouldn’t,” he admitted. “So much for words.”

  He disconnected, but, as unsettling as their conversation had been, she didn’t have time to mull over her gaffe or his reaction to it.

  “Mommy, the toilet’s going to spill!” Jayden called.

  Setting her phone on the counter, she rushed into the bathroom. “Stop flushing it!”

  * * *

  The diner was crowded, but Sadie was relieved to be busy. The crush kept her from thinking too much. For some reason, the comment she’d made at the end of her conversation with Dawson kept running through her mind—along with the pregnant silence that’d fallen afterward—and she couldn’t quit kicking herself. Just in case he was innocent, she needed to be more sensitive. She’d rather err on the side of assuming the best, of being kind, than piling on with everyone else, wouldn’t she? Dawson faced enough haters. The only person who stood in his corner, and had throughout the entire ordeal, was Aiyana Turner, the woman in charge of New Horizons. Aiyana insisted the man she knew could never do what had been done to the Reeds.

  Usually, Aiyana’s opinion carried some weight in Silver Springs. She did a lot of good in the community, was well respected, but she was always an advocate for her “boys,” had adopted eight of the students who’d attended New Horizons herself. Some of them probably supported Dawson, too. They’d gone to school together, after all. Everyone just discounted what the Turners had to say because of their close affiliation with Dawson and the fact that if he was responsible for those murders, it would reflect poorly on Aiyana and the school, for bringing him to town.