Harvest of Ruins

by Sandra Ruttan

  When she reached the family room at the bottom of the stairs she had a renewed affirmation of Elijah’s potential.

  Rose Chadwick sat on a couch. Elijah nodded through the open door to the study, where Vinny sat, her tiny frame swallowed by a blanket.

  Elijah extended his hand and passed the evidence bag to Noah. The gun was inside. After a cursory visual examination, Elijah’s words confirmed what Hunter’s own eyes had told her.

  “It’s not Detective Inspector Shepherd’s service weapon, but it is a 9 mm. Same caliber that killed Adam Fields.”

  Hunter looked through the door to the study. What secrets was Vinny keeping?

  “Mrs. Chadwick says her husband and younger daughter are visiting family overnight.” Elijah passed her some papers.

  Statements.

  She nodded, gave Elijah a look that was meant to thank him and acknowledge his professionalism with words she couldn’t give voice to yet. He nodded back and looked away.

  As she skimmed the first page she heard Noah’s voice again.

  “Hunter…”

  She ignored him and walked over to the couch where Rose sat. From the office, Vinny’s pale face and dead eyes were staring at her. For a split second she felt locked in an exchange with the girl, then with a nod she signaled the uniformed officer outside that room to close the door and watched as Vinny disappeared from view.

  Rose looked up at her. “Is this…”

  The words stopped, as though Rose already knew the answer to her question or had just realized who it was she'd spoken to.

  “What happened?”

  “I gave…” Rose sat up a bit straighter, something Hunter hadn’t thought possible. “that officer my statement.” Rose nodded at Elijah before she looked away, toward the closed door that separated her from her eldest daughter.

  Hunter moved into her line of sight and leaned down until they were eye to eye. “And now you’re giving it to me.”

  “It was self defense.” Rose smoothed her skirt automatically. Then she folded her hands on her lap. She looked calm.

  As though she wasn’t being questioned by a police officer.

  As though her first husband didn’t lay dead on the floor in a room above her.

  As though her eldest daughter hadn’t shot and killed her own father.

  “What makes you say that?”

  “He threatened her. He threatened to take her away. He said he wasn’t going to let her see me or her sister anymore, or any of her friends. She begged him to leave, but he kept yelling. She was scared.”

  “Where’d she get the gun?”

  Rose’s skin paled a touch and she paused before shaking her head. “I don’t know.”

  “Yet you’re so sure it was self defense.” Hunter flipped the page and frowned.

  It was the second page of Rose’s original statement.

  She turned to Elijah. “Where’s Evelyn’s statement?”

  He didn’t get the chance to answer.

  “You can’t talk to her,” Rose said. “She’s medicated.”

  “You… You gave her medication after she shot her father?” Hunter stared at her. It took all her strength to keep from screaming, "What the hell were you thinking?"

  Rose crossed her legs, hands still nestled on her lap. “She was medicated before the incident.”

  The incident. The father of her child lay in a pool of his own blood, killed by his firstborn, and it was an incident.

  “Don’t think you can protect her.”

  Rose’s eyes flashed. “You’ve got some nerve.”

  “If you’re lying we’ll have you for perjury, obstruction of justice.” Hunter was rambling, unable to hold the words back despite her better judgment and she knew she was losing control but she couldn’t stop herself.

  Rose didn't back down. “You dare to come into this home and call me a liar after what you did to this family? We wouldn’t even be here right now if it wasn’t for you.”

  “If you weren’t such a cold-hearted bitch I'd-”

  Noah stepped in front of her and lifted a finger to her lips. The unspoken words died on the tip of her tongue as she fought to hold back the tears.

  “I’m going to talk to her,” Hunter said.

  She’d stepped around Noah but he jumped in front of her. “You can’t. Hunter, she’s a minor and her mother is refusing consent.”

  “To cover up a crime. It’s ob-”

  “She’s medicated. Hunter, no. Let it go.”

  Was it her imagination, or did Rose give her a sly smile as she leaned back against the couch and watched as the uniformed officer opened the door to the study and led Vinny through the room?

  From the driveway Hunter heard the distant slam of a car door, followed by the crunch of tires on the gravel.

  Elijah walked over to Rose Chadwick and extended his hand to help her up. She couldn’t have looked more disgusted if he’d handed her a plate of maggots; Rose ignored him, stood up without assistance, and followed the other officer, who was white, up the stairs.

  THE SOUL CAGES

  - Sting -

  Solomon gave her a moment after she finished before he asked, “Did you have an opportunity to speak to Evelyn after the shooting?”

  “Yes.”

  “When?”

  “At Tom’s funeral.”

  "Objection." The words that followed from Grainger were a blur to Hunter. He protested, and she could see Solomon respond, but while Grainger and Solomon argued over whether this testimony was admissible, Hunter’s thoughts drifted back to the day in question.

  ***

  It started with a small tap against the roof.

  One lonely drop broke the stillness of night. In the seconds of silence that followed, Hunter began to question whether it had been rain. Perhaps it was a pinecone falling from a tree. No, that would have rolled down and over the side.

  Her bedroom was built into what would have been an attic in a newer house; consequently the ceiling had unusual angles that cast odd shadows in her room on nights when the moon shone through her window. Anything that fell on the top of the house would roll off the metal roof quickly.

  Tump.

  Another drop, again followed by the world holding its breath before another soft thud struck the ceiling.

  The ceiling she’d stared at for hours.

  It sounded as though someone was flicking their finger against the roof, except the hand moved all over. The first ping was right above Hunter’s bed, followed by a tap in the far corner by the door before they struck on the other side of the hall wall, just a second before there was another tump, this one near her bedroom window. For those few seconds each drop was separate, distinctive, it’s location specific.

  After those few seconds the clop-clop of the drops intensified and became a full canter, the strike of one drop of rain indiscernible from another.

  Hunter closed her eyes, a sea of faces flashing through her mind. Noah. Vinny. Tom. Rose. Audra, her own daughter…

  Take one away and how would it affect the others?

  Sometimes, on the job, it was possible to lose sight of the person because of the people. The same convenience stores got robbed again and again. The owners still didn’t install video cameras that worked. They filled out the same reports and went through the same motions with the same generic descriptions, and usually the investigation ended with the same result; unsolved.

  The same alleys would be painted over, and a fresh batch of graffiti would appear within a few days, the town unable to invest in a few more street lights, unable to impose curfew, unable to have an officer in the area when the taggers were out with paint cans in their hands.

  One domestic dispute bled into another, until you stopped seeing each situation on its own terms and just cursed the women who stayed. Tired of women who let men use them as punching bags, who kept their kids in a house where they could see their mother be beaten and abused.

  Sometimes, the kids experience the abuse themselve
s first-hand. Already learning not to leave, and not to tell.

  The reasons, the excuses… They were all irrelevant

  Each unique voice was lost in the chorus.

  The drops of rain had formed a choir.

  “I know what personification means.” That's what Vinny Shepherd said the first time Hunter met her, when Vinny was just seven years old.

  Hunter opened her eyes, tossed her sheet aside and got out of bed. It took only a few seconds for her to cross the floor to the window seat where her cat lay, curled in a ball, undisturbed by the change in weather. She leaned against the glass, and watched the water run down the windowpane.

  I know what personification means.

  It was the day of the funeral, and the sky was crying.

  ***

  Someone had shut the rain off. It happened in a snap. One moment, Hunter looked out the window and saw the streams of water flowing from the sky. The next time she looked the ominous dark clouds had suspended their downpour and not even so much as a wind rustled the leaves in the trees. Everything was calm.

  A fitting end for the service, just in time for the burial.

  Rose had talked of limiting the graveside proceedings to family only, but once she’d realized her right to make that decision would not go uncontested she’d relented, presumably preferring to have as many people there as possible to obscure the presence of the people she didn’t wish to address.

  Once there, the rituals proceeded at a steady pace, and then one by one, condolences were offered to Tom’s ex-wife.

  So many glancing at Vinny and shaking their heads in sympathy as they patted Rose Chadwick’s hand.

  Hunter looked down at Audra. Twice denied the right to know her father.

  As the crowd thinned, Hunter left Audra with Noah for a minute. Vinny Shepherd stood apart from the few people who lingered, with her back to the grave site.

  Facing the hill in the distance.

  So many things had gone through Hunter’s mind since the day of the shooting, but she hadn’t spoken to Vinny Shepherd during that whole time. Her boss had stepped in, said she shouldn’t be handling the case directly. Noah and Elijah could take the lead.

  Her own emotions had remained undefined, had been as elusive as the answers to the various cases she’d been working. Rage gave way to a grief she couldn’t deny, which was tinged with a relief that the life of her daughter would not change, that Audra would not be torn in two like Vinny.

  A feeling that gave way to guilt, for what her daughter had been denied.

  Until that moment she hadn’t known what she would say to Vinny, and it wasn’t even consciously processed. She stopped behind her.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “For who?” Vinny’s voice carried the coldness of death.

  “For me. For you. For Tom.” Hunter took a breath. “For my daughter. I’m sorry for us all.”

  Vinny turned slowly and looked at her. It was the first time Hunter really saw her as more than the child she’d once been. The girl before her, dressed in a buttoned-down black jacket over a pleated black skirt that contrasted the paleness of her skin. Beautiful. Sophisticated. Capable of being a self-assured woman.

  Then the illusion faded and the vulnerability returned as the hardness melted from Vinny’s features.

  “He loved you,” Hunter said. “No matter what mistakes he might have made… he loved you.”

  Vinny brushed the solitary tear from her face as she cleared her throat. “I… I know.”

  Hunter stood and stared at her. It seemed as though this moment should provide some sort of closure for both of them, a release that would allow the healing process to begin.

  It felt as though it was slipping away.

  Vinny looked past Hunter for a moment, her face a mix of fear and pain. Hunter glanced over her shoulder and saw who Vinny was watching.

  Her mother.

  When Hunter turned back Vinny looked straight at her.

  “I couldn’t take it any more.”

  Was that how simple it was? Two parents pulling her apart and she’d snapped?

  Hunter nodded and began to turn away. Then she stopped.

  “But why him? Why your dad?”

  Vinny’s eyes flooded with tears. “Because I knew he’d forgive me.”

  Hunter had to admit there was a strange sort of logic to that.

  “The last time I saw him, before… He told me he believed in you. That one day you’d find the strength in yourself.” She reached out and squeezed Vinny’s hand. “It’s not too late.”

  As the tears spilled over Vinny pulled her hand free and turned away.

  ***

  "Was that the last time you saw Evelyn before her mother had her voluntarily committed?" Solomon asked.

  "Yes. It was the last time I saw her until the other day, when she appeared here in court."

  "Thank you, DS. McKenna. I have no further questions."

  Grainger passed on the option of cross-examining her, and she was ordered to step down.

  THE STORY OF US

  - Taylor Swift -

  Noah Wilmott was called forward and sworn in. Once seated, Solomon wasted no time in presenting Evelyn Shepherd's diary as evidence, and asked Noah to read an excerpt for the court.

  And as he did, Hunter had no trouble filtering out the words and seeing the events as though they were happening, through Vinny's eyes. She'd dreamed it all before.

  ***

  I stared at the sky. It was clear, blue, and calm. No stiff breeze blowing the leaves, no smell of winter lingering in the air. It was almost as though the day itself was laughing at me.

  The cell phone in my pocket buzzed again. Another text probably. Nothing it could say that would change anything. After I'd left the school with Mother there had been a prolonged silence.

  I'd been forced to turn to the internet to find the answers Mother wouldn’t give me.

  Adam was dead. Found in an empty house. I didn’t recognize the address, hadn’t recognized it when Hunter had asked, either. Something about it seemed odd, but I couldn’t place it, and I knew I didn’t know anyone who lived there.

  Gunshot wound. Cause of death undetermined, pending autopsy results. Death was suspicious.

  Why hadn’t Adam been at the party? He was supposed to go. He was supposed to go with Ivy.

  Suspicious. Code, for suspected homicide.

  Adam. Just a crazy boy I'd hung around with, since I was a little kid. Someone who’d always been there. Someone I thought always would be there.

  Gone. Snap your fingers and poof. Game over. No chance to say goodbye. No warning. Just like that.

  Every death I'd experienced up until then had been expected. Grandpapa had died of cancer. A few great aunts and uncles had passed on after illnesses. No bombshells. No accidents. No… suspicious deaths.

  Unless you counted the neighbor’s cat.

  Ivy had asked what Daddy had said, that day, so long ago. I'd tried to shrug it off and say it was just an argument, but Ivy hadn’t let it drop. Not until she’d gotten every detail out of me.

  Ivy always could get anything out of me that she wanted.

  “Who does he think killed the cat?” Ivy had asked.

  I hadn’t answered. Not right away. Just stood still, stared back at Ivy, and watched Ivy watch me, then nod.

  Then smile a cold, heartless smile.

  And the only truth I'd been able to admit was that there might be some things about Ivy that I didn’t want to know.

  I was lying on the grassy side of the dug-out they’d built, one of the hideouts local teens used for parties when the weather was good and nobody had a parent-free house to crash. The snap of a twig caused me to turn my head.

  “Hey,” Jesse said as he walked over. A smile spread across his sun-kissed face. Jesse was blessed with all-American good looks, dirty-blond hair that swept back from a chiseled jaw and baby-soft skin. Six-foot-two of lean muscle, captain of the lacrosse team and a way of looking at me
with those sharp, blue eyes that made me feel he could see right through me.

  “Hey yourself.”

  He had a crooked smile that made her stomach do flips. Even today I wasn’t immune to it.

  I pushed it down, like I always had. I didn’t have Ivy’s confidence with boys, or experience.

  Jesse was a friend. I'd been friends with him for what felt like forever, since long before Ivy had moved into the neighborhood. I didn’t want to mess that up.

  “You didn’t answer,” he said.

  I stared at him. “Answer what?”

  “Your phone. I texted you.”

  “Oh.” I felt the heat in my cheeks as I fumbled in my pocket, pulled out the phone and started checking the messages.

  Where are you?

  “I just… I didn’t know it was you. I didn’t feel like...” I shrugged.

  We were quiet for a while, lost in our own thoughts.

  “It’s weird trying to talk to people,” I said. “It’s like everyone expects you to act and feel a certain way, but I don’t even know how I feel. It doesn’t seem real. Does that make any sense?”

  “Yeah. It makes perfect sense.” Jesse walked around to the side of the dug-out near the woods, and opened the door. He slid his knapsack off his back and pointed inside. “Want something to drink?”

  “Sure.” I got up and brushed myself off. By the time I'd walked around to the door Jesse was inside with a blanket spread on the ground and the flashlight lantern turned on. He opened his bag. “Beer or a cooler?”

  “Cooler.”

  Jesse nodded at the door. “Close that.”

  I eased it shut and then sat down on the edge of the blanket, pulling my knees up against myself. I didn’t spend as much time in the dug-outs as some of my friends. The parties weren’t my scene. I came just enough to keep Ivy happy, to keep from being a target, one of the kids the others made fun of, and when I was present I tried to blend into the wall as much as possible.