by Cade Brogan
“Dinner,” Gladys called out.
“I’d say so,” Omar said, patting her back. “So, now that we got the problems of the world solved,” he added, “how about we go up and get some supper?”
“Not sure we got ‘em solved,” Rylee chuckled, holding back so he could navigate the stairway, “but maybe we came close.”
***
Gladys tiptoed up, her hands pausing in the sudsy water.
“What?” Rylee asked, folding her copy of the Tribune, and laying it on the maple table they’d eaten on since she was a child.
“Nothing, really,” Gladys responded. “A yellow car was just sitting there, parked just beyond our driveway.” She glanced back, meeting her granddaughter’s eye. “It’s gone now.”
“Did you recognize it?” Rylee asked, stepping over to see for herself, and releasing her coffee cup into the water.
Gladys shook her head. “No, just noticed, that’s all.” The garbage disposal gargled, breaking the silence. “You were quiet at supper,” she added, “Is something bothering you?”
“No, not really,” Rylee responded, shaking her head. “Just ran into Kenzie today.” She took a breath. “Kind of left me a little off, but I’m fine.”
“The Kenzie from college?” Gladys asked, crinkling her brow.
“Yep, the one and only,” Rylee responded, swallowing. “First time since.”
Cutlery clattered against plates in the water.
“So did you talk with her?” Gladys asked gently.
Rylee nodded, her jaw taut.
The TV in the living room played in the background.
“I think your car just went by again,” Rylee mentioned softly as she stepped back from the window. “A newer Nissan.”
“Probably lost,” Gladys responded, shaking her head. “A lot of folks have incomplete numbers on their houses.”
“Yeah, probably,” Rylee said, taking another look before sitting back down.
Chapter Nine
“I don’t want to go,” Abby muttered, flopping wide on her bed, her palms behind her, supporting the weight of her upper body.
Kenzie took a breath before responding, “You’ll have a good time once you get there.”
“No, I won’t,” Abby said. Her brow was wrinkled and her mouth hung open with attitude. “None of my friends will be there.”
Kenzie sat next to her, gently meeting her eye. “What about Lauren and Raine?” she asked with a soft lift to her voice. “They’re going.”
“They’re not my friends,” Abby said, sighing. “They’re just girls I know from church.”
Good girls, Kenzie thought, not the kind that you insist on running around with.
“Well, they could be,” Kenzie responded, “if you gave them a chance.” She exhaled, adding, “An opportunity that you’ll have on your youth group missionary trip.” She met her gaze directly. “You’re going, Abigail, so stop whining.” Things that used to be so easy had become so difficult. She stood, collecting her daughter’s dirty clothes before stepping into the hallway. “The bus will be here in an hour to pick you up,” she added, looking back. “Let’s get packed now, so you’ll be ready when it’s time.” She walked off with a quiet sigh, stopped by her bedroom to collect ironing, and made her way down the stairway.
***
Kenzie lifted the cardboard flap, stirring dust and memories. Of all things to be doing on her first night with the house to herself, she was poking around in the attic. She waved her hand, coughing as she rummaged through the box. Yearbooks. She set aside two years, her freshman and sophomore; photo albums. She retrieved the one from the same period; wearable memorabilia. She held the soft cloth against her cheek, remembering the twenty-sixth day of July with Rylee. It was a t-shirt from the Janet Jackson, All For You concert, never worn. Feeling certain that it would still fit, she slipped it on. She set the items within reach of the old rocking chair, the one that had faithfully squeaked Abby to sleep when she was a baby and sat down. What made her think that marrying Abby’s daddy would change the fact that she was attracted to women? She’d made a terrible mistake, but she wouldn’t change history because doing so would mean that she wouldn’t have Abby. She could be a pain, but she loved her more than life itself. Her eyes teemed with tears as she thumbed through the H’s and fingered down to Rylee’s image. “Still as handsome as ever,” she murmured as a knot took residence in the pit of her stomach. “No use crying over spilled milk,” she told herself as she returned the items to the box. She straightened Abby’s rag doll, slumped against her toy box, pulled the string on the light bulb, and navigated her way down the wobbly ladder. After collecting her nightclothes, she made her way in for a hot shower.
***
It was a quiet neighborhood, lower middle class. In many respects, it was much the same as another on the south side, the one from which Joanna had just come. The homes were older, mostly two-story, and vinyl sided. She slowed as she passed Kenzie’s house, the one with blue siding, white trim, and the long front porch. She parked one block over, and two blocks up. The first lightning bugs of the season flickered in front of her as she made her way down the uneven sidewalk.
The water meter was where it should be—near the front of the property and in a box. Joanna walked by, checking to be sure that no one was watching before doubling back. She wore dark clothing to minimize the risk of being spotted. She squatted low, removed the metal lid with a long screwdriver, and checked the device. It was an analog with a dial, measuring water usage by the gallon instead of the cubic foot. As she sat on her haunches, the low-flow indicator began to twirl. Well, how about that, she thought, smiling. What luck! She checked her watch, recording seven-thirty-one in her spiral notebook. Then, she used Velcro to secure a tiny wireless camera inside the box. No use wasting an opportunity, she thought. Knowing that Kenzie’s daughter was gone, she replaced the lid, looked around, and crept onto the porch. Experience had taught her that the average woman took a shower that lasted between seven and ten minutes. She checked the image on her iPhone to assure that the water was still running before inserting her tension wrench into the lock. She was cutting it close, but was confident that she’d have enough time before Kenzie stepped out and dried off.
Apply torque.
Insert the pick.
Back and forth.
Back and forth.
Back and forth.
Back and forth.
Back and forth.
The pins, only five, set with a click, and the door opened.
Regarding security, cheap locks were no more than an illusion.
She scanned left and then right. A three-way bulb glowed at its lowest wattage from the table nearest the couch. A clock ticked from somewhere in the house. The dishwasher cycled to turn off. With deliberate steps, she navigated the stairs silently. The doors were ajar, all except one, the one with the sliver of light. She checked the image on her phone before turning the knob. The low-flow indicator swept round and round.
The water continued to run.
The bathroom door was ajar.
She crept one step, paused, and took another. Mmm, another one with frosted glass, she thought. Kenzie’s silhouette, as she lathered her breasts and rinsed off, was enthralling.
The faucet knob squeaked.
She licked her lips.
The water slowed to a trickle.
Eleven minutes, thirty-nine seconds.
Mission accomplished.
***
Kenzie slid the door to one side, pausing to listen. No one is in this house, she told herself in a firm internal voice. You’re just not used to being alone. She took a breath, held it, and released it slowly. True, but that has nothing to do with anything, and you know it. She stood in place for a couple of minutes, listening for the sound she’d heard as she turned off the water. You’re just spooked because of Sally. And Jodi, she told herself. In that second, she couldn’t help but think of Rylee
. She stepped out, dried off, slipped on her bathrobe, and crept down the stairs—one deliberate step at a time.
Front door—locked.
Back door—locked.
Windows—secured.
No one was in the house.
See, just your imagination, she told herself.
Chapter Ten
Rich rarely, if ever, called in to say he’d be taking a couple of days off. “Now, don’t worry,” he’d said, “I just have to take care of a family matter.” Rylee didn’t ask for details but had the feeling that something was up. But what? Everything had seemed fine the other night. She pushed thoughts of what might be wrong out of her mind, resolving to make the most of today and tomorrow. She’d do her best to catch them up by the time he came back to work. If something was wrong, that was something constructive that she could do to help. With any luck, he wouldn’t get called in this weekend and would have four days in a row off. She collected their open cases, slid them into the expandable pocket of her satchel, and made her way to her truck.
***
Rylee stood as he entered the reception area of the botanical garden—an intelligent looking man, tall, thin, and balding. “Good morning,” she greeted, displaying her badge, “My name’s Detective Hayes. I believe my partner, Detective Winters, spoke with you.” She made a sweeping glance. “You’ve got some place here,” she added. “I’ll have to bring my grandma over some time. She loves flowers.”
“Thanks,” the director responded with a wide smile, “we try.” He removed his glasses, meeting her eye. “We can talk in my office if you’d like.”
“That’d be great,” Rylee said, sliding her hands into her pockets. She finished explaining what she needed by the time she sat down. With a doctorate in plant biology, she hoped the guy could identify the tiny seeds in her pocket without a problem.
“Poison Hemlock,” he said without thought. “It’s quite toxic.” He rolled the first of two seeds between his thumb and forefinger, adding, “And has quite limited dispersal. It’s typically found in moist habitats, anywhere there’s standing fresh water.”
He pursed his lips. “Unfortunately,” he continued, “that results in dense stands that crowd out native vegetation.”
“That’s too bad,” Rylee responded, not really grasping the enormity of the problem. “So,” she continued, “if I understand you right, it sounds like you don’t think that this blew in from somewhere else.”
“That’s correct,” the director said, looking over his glasses. “Poison Hemlock seeds are simply not equipped to be long-distance travelers.”
Rylee traded one seed for another. “And what about this one?” she asked, retrieving a second tiny specimen from the bag. “Same plant?”
“Oh my, no,” he answered, “the shape, the size, the grooves, everything about it, it’s all different.” He held the seed between the same two fingers. “Oh my no,” he repeated, “this one’s from a plant called Wolfsbane.” His eyes sparkled when he shared how it got its name.
“Huh,” Rylee responded, “so ancient Greeks used it on arrow tips to hunt wolves.” She lifted her fingers, touching her chin. “Interesting,” she commented, reopening the bag, and dropping the seed in. “I’m pretty sure the rest of these are the same as the first one,” she added, “but I’ll let you take a quick look just to be certain.”
“They are,” Dr. Hines responded, nodding.
“Okay, last thing,” Rylee continued, taking her phone from her pocket. “I thought this was from a blackberry bush,” she went on, shaking her head, “but I checked my old botany textbook and it’s not.”
“No, it’s not a blackberry,” he said, touching the screen to enlarge the image, “but you were close.” He met her eyes as he handed back her phone. It’s a raspberry bramble,” he added, pressing his lips together as he furrowed his brow. “Albino, I believe.”
“You can tell that from just looking at the picture?” Rylee asked, lifting an eyebrow.
Dr. Hines lifted one in return. “Not without the immature berry,” he responded with a chuckle.
“Oh yeah,” Rylee said. “I suppose that does help.” She shook his hand. “Thank you so much for taking the time to talk with me,” she added, reloading her satchel, and slipping the strap over her shoulder. “I may have a couple more questions down the road.”
“That’s fine,” he said. “Happy to help…Bring your grandmother some time,” he called out. “Admission’s on the house.”
“I’ll do that,” Rylee called back, palming the door open. “Again, thanks for your help.”
***
Rylee picked up her pace, reaching for the door handle. “Here,” she said, “let me get that for you.”
“Thank you,” the young woman responded, juggling her load as she stepped in the direction of the coffee bar. She was wearing one of those obnoxious red t-shirts, reminding Rylee of how sad she was that her ex-girlfriend had gotten hooked up with a congregation like this one. Kenzie had struggled with her own sexuality during high school, college, and more than likely, beyond. What she needed was a place that’d accept her, not one that’d beat her down. Such churches existed. Rylee knew because her grandparents attended one.
“You’re welcome,” Rylee responded.
“If you’re in need of a church home,” the woman chirped, pointing to a large sign near the entrance to the building, “our service times are listed right up there on our board.”
“Wednesdays at six, Saturdays at five, and Sundays at ten,” Rylee responded, smiling thinly. “Thank you. I’ll be sure to keep that in mind.” She took a breath, exhaling as she watched the woman step off. This visit could’ve waited, but she’d decided that this was an opportunity to come back on her own.
***
Kenzie glanced up, catching sight of Rylee as she walked by the window. She bit her lower lip, forcing her eyes back to the screen. The designs for next week’s bulletins weren’t finished, and they wouldn’t be anytime soon, not with Rylee steps away.
“Hey there,” Rylee greeted, smiling as she came through the doorway. “You look busy.”
“Oh…hi,” Kenzie responded. “No, not too bad.” She smiled back. “Just tweaking a graphic or two, that’s all.”
“Graphics,” Rylee reacted, her eyes widening. “Wow, I’m impressed.”
“Don’t be,” Kenzie said, shaking her head as her face, neck, and ears heated up. “I love doing it,” she added, “but I’m self-taught and my work isn’t much more than church bulletin quality.”
“Self-taught,” Rylee responded, her smile widening. “I’m even more impressed.”
“If you’re here to see the pastor,” she said, changing the subject, “he’s not in today.” She caught a whiff of Rylee’s musky scent. “Thursday’s his day off,” she blurted out.
“I am, but that’s okay,” Rylee responded, touching her mouth, and then her throat. “I’ll bet you’ll be able to help me out.”
God…that cologne, Kenzie thought. Fifteen years and you still wear what you wore in college. Through the years, whenever Kenzie caught a whiff of the distinctive scent, it immediately transported her back to their tiny apartment on 53rd. She swallowed, determined to push the memory from the night they’d gone from roommates to lovers out of mind.
“That is if you want to,” Rylee added, cocking her head as she tried to recapture Kenzie’s attention.
Kenzie looked back. “Oh…sorry,” she blurted out, “my mind must’ve gotten away from me there for a minute.”
“That’s okay. Because if you don’t want to,” Rylee continued, toying with the paper clip holder, “I can come back when the pastor’s available.”
Kenzie’s gaze softened. “Of course I want to,” she said. “Just tell me what you need and I’m at your service.
“Not that much,” Rylee responded. “I just need to take another look around, that’s all.”
***
Kenzie stood in th
e rear of the sanctuary, watching as Rylee walked the perimeter, down the center aisle, and to the balcony. Her steps were wide and her hands were in her pockets. “So,” she said, “Sally sat over there, right?” She pointed to the fifth center pew, the second seat over.
“Yes,” Kenzie responded, nodding. “She used to like to sit with an older group of ladies, the quilters.”
“Okay, good,” Rylee said, jotting a seating sketch on a page of her notebook. “I’ll need you to get me their names and contact information.”
“No problem,” Kenzie responded.
“And Jodi sat in the front, right over there,” Rylee continued, pointing, “right?”
“Yes,” Kenzie answered.
“I think I already have—” Rylee shifted gears, midsentence as Kenzie’s gaze became distant. “I’m so sorry for your loss,” she said. Her tone had that gentle quality that Kenzie had fallen in love with.
“I just gave ‘em a ride to church,” Kenzie responded, her smile quivering, “you wouldn’t think it’d hit me this hard.” Her heart swelled, sensing Rylee’s desire to move closer, and shriveled when she didn’t. She caught the scent of English Leather. Dear God, she thought, swallowing with a shiver that brought pleasure. She nodded toward a pew, seven rows forward. “That’s where we sit, Abby and me,” she said, meeting her eye. “You didn’t ask, but I thought you might want to know.” She took a breath, adding, “For your investigation, I mean.”
“Not just for my investigation,” Rylee responded without blinking, “for me too.” She took a soft breath, adding, “I’m sorry I acted like such a jerk the other day. I didn’t mean to.”
“You didn’t act like a jerk,” Kenzie responded softly, her breath catching in her throat. She unbuttoned and re-buttoned the top button of her blouse. “So,” she squeaked, clearing her throat, and changing the subject, “did you get what you came for?”
