"So Little Bear went home to his mother and never, ever went out into the woods again without asking first. The end." Bennett Scott closed the book she was reading to Harper and put it aside. "That's a good lesson for little girls, too. Never go out of your home without asking your mother first. You remember that, sweetie. Okay?"
" 'Kay, Mommy."
Harper sat on her mother's lap, still in her pajamas, nestled in the folds of an old throw Bennett had wrapped about them both. Bennett still wore last night's clothes, and her face was haggard and pale.
" 'Cause Mommy would feel so bad if anything happened to her baby girl. You know that, Harper?" Bennett hugged her. "Mommy just wants to keep you safe always."
"Owee, Mommy," Harper complained, as her mother squeezed too tightly.
"Sorry, sweetie." Bennett rumpled her hair. "Hey, look, the sun's coming up! Look, Harper! It's all gold and red and lavender and pink! Look at all the pretty colors!"
They shifted on the couch, turning to look east out the window where the sun's early light was just cresting the tree-line of the park. Nest watched in silence as Bennett drew Harper's small body close to her own and pointed.
"You know what that is, Harper?" she asked softly. "Remember what I told you? That's angel fire. Isn't it beautiful?"
"Bootiful."
"Remember what Mommy told you about angel fire? At the beginning of every day, the angels go all over the world and gather up a little bit of the love that mommies have for their babies. They take bits and pieces, just scraps of it really, because mommies need most of it for themselves, to keep their babies safe. But the angels gather as much as they can, and they bring it all together, before anyone's awake, and they use it to make the sunrise. Sometimes it's really bright and full of colors, like today, because there is more love to spare than usual. But there is always enough to make a sunrise, enough to begin a new day."
She went silent then, lowering her head into Harper's thick hair. Nest slipped past them down the hall to her bedroom. Once inside, she stripped off her running clothes and went into the bathroom. She took a long shower, washed her hair, dressed, and put on makeup, wondering all the while what she was going to say to Bennett. Maybe nothing, she kept thinking. Maybe it was better to just leave things alone.
She was just about to go out and start breakfast when she noticed the message light blinking on her answer machine.
There was one message.
"Hi. It's Paul. I thought I might catch you in, but I guess you're already up and about. Or maybe sleeping, but I bet not. Not you. Anyway, I just wanted to say 'Hi' or maybe 'Merry Christmas.' I've been thinking about you lately. Haven't talked with you for a while, so I decided to call. Hope you're doing okay. Anyway, I'll try again later. Bye."
The machine offered its programmed choices, delete, save, or replay, and she hung up. She stared at the phone, still sitting on the bed. She hadn't heard from Paul in months. Why was he calling her now? Maybe he just wanted to talk, like he said. Maybe it was something else. She wasn't sure she wanted to know.
She went out of her bedroom and down the hall to the kitchen. She was pulling out pots and pans and cooking utensils, trying to decide on a breakfast menu, when Bennett came in and took a seat at the old kitchen table.
Nest glanced over. "Morning."
"Morning," Bennett replied, holding her gaze only a moment before her eyes slid away. She looked a wreck, much worse than Nest had thought earlier. "Can I do something?"
Nest saw Harper playing alone in the living room, content for the moment. "Make yourself some coffee, why don't you?"
Bennett rose and walked over to the machine. She was pulling down the box of filters and opening the coffee tin when her hands began to shake. She couldn't seem to stop them, but continued to try to set the filter in place in the machine, dropping it to the floor in the process.
Nest walked over and took her hands, holding them firmly in her own. "Nobody said this was going to be easy."
Bennett's face turned sullen and stiff. "I'm all right. Leave me alone."
"Where were you last night, Bennett?"
"Out, Nest. Look, I don't want to talk about it, okay? Just leave me alone!"
She wrenched her hands away and threw herself back down at the table, biting her lip. Nest stayed where she was, watching. Then she turned away and began to make the coffee herself.
"You want me to leave?" Bennett asked after a moment, head lowered in the veil of her dark hair. "Just say the word. Harper and I can be gone in a flash. We don't have to stay here."
"I want you to stay," Nest said quietly.
"No, you don't! You want me out! Admit it, okay? Don't lie to me! You want your life back the way it was before I showed up!"
Nest finished with the coffee and walked back to the stove, deciding on pancakes and sausage. "Well, we don't always get what we want in life, and sometimes what we get is better than what we want anyway. Gran used to say that all the time. I think having you and Harper and John and Little John for Christmas is a good example of what she meant. Don't you?"
She waited a minute and then turned around. Bennett was crying, her head buried in her hands, her shoulders hunched and still. Nest walked over and knelt beside her.
"I don't even have a present for her!" Bennett's voice was a whisper of despair and rage. "Not one shitty present! I don't even have the money to buy one! What kind of mother does that make me?"
Nest put her arm around Bennett's shoulders. "Let's make her one, then. You and me. Something really wonderful. I used to do that with Gran, just because Gran liked making presents rather than buying them. She felt they were more special when you made them. Why don't we do that?"
Bennett's nod was barely perceptible. "I'm such a loser, Nest. I can't do anything right. Anything."
Nest leaned closer. "When the holiday is over, Bennett, you and I are going to see a man who works with addicts. He's very good at it. He runs a program out of a group home he supervises. You can live there if you want, but you don't have to. I like him, and I think you will, too. Maybe he can help you get straight."
Bennett shook her head. "Sure, why not?" She didn't sound like she believed it. She sighed and buried her face in her hands, the sobs ending. "God, I hate my life."
Nest left her and went back to the stove. She worked on breakfast until the coffee was ready, then poured a cup and carried it over to Bennett, who hadn't moved from the table. Bennett drank a little, then rose and began setting the dining-room table. After a while, John Ross and Little John appeared, the boy going straight to the couch to kneel facing out the window once more. Harper stared at him for a while from where she sat on the floor, then went back to playing.
They ate breakfast in the dining room with the lights on. The sky clouded over again and the sun disappeared from view until it was only a pale hazy ball, the air turned gray and wintry in its absence. Outside, cars moved on the street like sluggish beetles, the whine of snow tires and the rattle of chains marking their passage. Andy Wilts came by from the Texaco station to plow out the drive with his four-by-four. Bennett talked with Harper about snow angels and icicle lollipops, and Nest talked about driving out to get a Christmas tree, now that she had company for the holiday. Ross ate in silence, and the gypsy morph looked off into space.
When they were clearing off the table and putting the dishes in the dishwasher, there was a knock at the front door. Nest glanced out the curtained window and saw a county sheriff's car parked in the drive. Not again, she thought immediately. Leaving Bennett to finish loading the dishes, she walked down the hall, irritated at the prospect of having to deal with Larry Spence yet again. What could he possibly want this time? Ross was in his room, so maybe she could avoid another confrontation.
"Good morning, Larry," she said on opening the door, fighting down the urge to tell him what she really wanted to say.
Larry Spence stood stiffly in front of her, hat in hand, bundled up in his deputy sheriff's coat. "Morning, Nest. S
orry to have to bother you again."
"That's all right. What can I do for you?"
He cleared his throat. "Well, it might be better if I could come in and we could talk about it there."
She shook her head. "I don't think so. We tried that yesterday, and it didn't work out very well. You better tell me what you want right here on the porch."
His big frame shifted. "All right. We'll do it your way." His tone of voice changed, taking on a slight edge. "It's about the drug dealing in the park. It's still going on. There was a major buy last night. Witnesses saw it going down and called it in. It's possible that someone staying in your house was involved."
She thought at once of Bennett Scott, missing all night. Had Bennett been involved in a drug transaction? She stared at Larry Spence, trying to read his face. How would Bennett have paid for "a major buy" of drugs? She didn't have any money.
"Who did your witnesses think they saw?" she asked quickly.
"I can't tell you that."
"Who are your witnesses?"
"I can't tell you that, either."
"But there are witnesses and they did see someone involved in this drug buy that they can identify, is that right?"
"Right."
But Nest didn't believe it. He was fishing for something. Otherwise, he wouldn't be here asking questions of her. He would be holding a warrant for Bennett's arrest.
"Look, Larry." She closed the door behind her, moved out onto the porch, and stood with her arms folded across her chest. "My guests were all here last night, tucked in their beds, asleep. If you have someone who says differently, trot them out. Otherwise, go investigate someone else."
His face began to redden. "You don't have to be so defensive about this. I'm just doing my job. Drug dealing is a mean business, and the people involved are dangerous. You might be smart to think about that."
"What are you talking about, Larry? I don't know anyone involved in drug dealing, and I'm not friends with people who do. I have four guests in my house—friends I've known for a long time and a couple of small children. I hardly think they are the kind of people you're talking about."
He shook his head stubbornly. "Maybe you don't know them as well as you think."
"Well, maybe that's so. But what makes you think you know them any better? This is the second time in two days you've been out here, ladling out large helpings of innuendo and unsubstantiated accusations." Her anger surfaced in a rush. "If you know something I don't, why not just tell me instead of waiting for me to break down and confess?"
"Look, Nest, I don't—"
"No, you tell me what you know, or you get the hell off my porch!"
He took a deep breath, his face bright red. "John Ross is a dangerous man. There are people here investigating him. I'm trying to keep you out of it, girl!"
She stared at him. "John Ross? This is about John?" She realized then that this had never been about Bennett, that Larry Spence had been talking about John all along. About John Ross dealing drugs. She wanted to laugh.
Larry Spence looked confused. "Hey, you better wake up about Ross. The people investigating him…"
Something clicked in the back of her mind. "What people?" she asked quickly.
"I can't tell you that."
"You don't seem to be able to tell me much of anything. It makes me wonder how much you actually know." She took a step toward him. "Who do these people say they are, Larry? Have you checked them out? Because I have a feeling about this."
His mouth tightened. "It's an official investigation, Nest. I've already said more than I should, and I—"
"Is one of them an older man with gray eyes and a leather book, looks like an old-time preacher?"
Larry Spence stared at her, his sentence left unfinished. She sensed his uncertainty. "Listen to me, Larry," she said slowly, carefully. "You're in way over your head. Way over. You stay away from this man, you understand? He isn't who you think. He's the one who's dangerous, not John Ross."
The big man's mouth tightened. "You do know something about this drug-dealing business, don't you?"
"There isn't any drug-dealing business!" she snapped, furious. "Can't you get it through—"
His portable radio squawked sharply in his coat pocket, and he turned away from her as he pulled it out. He spoke softly for a minute, shielding his voice from her, listened, and turned back. "I've got to go. We'll talk about this later. You be careful, girl. I don't think you're clear about what's going on."
Without waiting for her response, he walked off the porch to his car, climbed in, and drove off. She wheeled away as he did so, went back inside, and stood seething in the entry-way. Larry Spence was a fool. Findo Cask was using him, that much was certain. But what was he using him for? She thought of the ways the demons she had encountered before had used humans as pawns to get what they wanted. She remembered her father, come back to claim her for his own. She remembered Stefanie Winslow.
History always repeats itself, she thought angrily. There is nothing you can do to change that. Even in the small things in our lives, we make the same mistakes. How could she avoid that happening here?
She rubbed her arms through her heavy sweater, chasing away the last of the winter chill from her skin. But the cold that had settled in the pit of her stomach remained.
Chapter 16
When she had calmed down enough to think about something else, Nest loaded everyone into the Taurus and drove them to a tree farm north of town. Picking up a bow saw from the farmer, she marched them out into the Christmas tree forest in search of an acceptable tree. Other customers prowled the long rows, searching for trees of their own. The air was cold and dry against their skins, and a west wind whipped across the snowy fields, kicking up sudden sprays. Heavy clouds rolled in from across the Mississippi, and Nest could taste and smell the impending snow.
Exhilarated, she breathed in the winter air. If she was going to celebrate Christmas, she was going to do it right. Sitting around the house might be the easier choice, but it was also apt to drive her insane. Better to be out doing something. Ever since she was a little girl, she had handled her problems by getting up and doing something. It seemed to help her think, to come to terms with things. It was why she had begun running.
Harper raced ahead, darting in and out of the shaggy trees, playing hide-and-seek with anyone who would do so, leaping out unexpectedly and laughing as the adults feigned surprise and shock. Little John watched her for a time, his face expressionless, his blue eyes intense. He did not join in or respond, but he was not disinterested either. Something about the game seemed to engage his curiosity, and once or twice he slowed long enough to give Harper a chance to spring out at him and run away. Nest watched him do it several times, puzzled by what it meant. Once she encouraged him to join in, but he just walked away.
They found a fat little five-foot fir that Harper hugged and jumped up and down over, so they cut it down and hauled it out to where the farmer measured it and collected their payment. After loading the tree in the trunk and tying down the lid to hold it in place, they drove back to the house. It was not yet noon, and after consuming such a big breakfast, no one was ready to eat again. Nest wanted to keep everyone occupied, so she suggested they stick the tree in a bucket of water on the back porch to give it a chance to relax, and go for a walk.
With snow beginning to fall in fat, lazy flakes, they struck out into the park, Harper in the lead, racing this way and that, Nest, Ross, and Little John following. Smoking a cigarette and hunching her thin shoulders against the cold, Bennett, trailing everyone, had the look of someone who would just as soon be somewhere else. She had grown increasingly moody as the morning progressed, slowly withdrawing from all of them, Harper included. Nest had tried to make conversation, to bring her out of whatever funk she had fallen into, but nothing worked. Bennett's eyes drifted away each time she was addressed, as if she had gone off in search of something. Whatever had happened last night, Nest thought darkly, it was not good.
But she decided to wait on saying anything more. Bennett was already in such a black place that it didn't seem to Nest that it would do much good to emphasize it. After Christmas, maybe she would say something.
They drifted across the snow-covered ball diamonds toward the toboggan slide, drawn at first by their lingering curiosity over last night's accident and then by a clutch of police, fire, and ambulance vehicles that came into view. The deputy sheriff's car belonged to Larry Spence. Nest glanced at Ross, but he shook his head to indicate he had no idea what was happening. Nest moved to the front of the group, directing them west of the parking lot and its knot of traffic, crossing the road farther down. People were gathered along the crest of the slope leading down to the bayou, all of them whispering or standing silent, eyes fixed on a knot of firemen and ambulance workers clustered on the ice.
Nest's group slowed beside the others. The first thing she saw was the twisted length of Robert's toboggan lying to one side. A dark, watery hole glimmered where the ice had been chopped apart by picks and axes to free it. But then she saw that it wasn't the sled they had worked to free. The firemen and ambulance techs were working over a sodden, crumpled form.
"What's going on?" she asked a man standing a few feet away.
The man shook his head. He had owlish features and a beard, and she didn't know him. "Someone fell through the ice and drowned. Must have happened during the night. They just fished him out."
Nest took a steadying breath and looked back at the tableau on the bayou. A body bag was being unrolled and unzipped, its bright orange color brilliant against the dull surface of the ice. "Do they know who it is?" she asked.
The man shrugged his heavy shoulders. "Don't know. No one's been up yet to say. Just some poor slob." He seemed unconcerned.
Someone who fell through the ice, she repeated carefully, trying out the sound of the words in her mind, knowing instantly Findo Cask was responsible.
Angel Fire East Page 18
