by Lisa Alber
Rain tapped the windows like skeleton fingers. He opened the knife drawer. He touched each knife in turn. One finger, one tap, until he reached the carving knife. He tapped it until the trembling in his finger subsided. He slid the drawer shut and exited the kitchen.
One of Zoe’s purses hung on the hall stand. Bright yellow with lots of silver buckles and a front pocket. He reached inside it and pulled out her mobile.
A thud startled him. Zoe exclaimed through the noise of the shower. Vexed, by the sound of it, but the water continued to gurgle through the pipes and scented steam continued to leak down the stairs. She must have knocked down the shower caddy again.
Nathan pressed a button on her mobile and groaned. He needed her bloody password. An ache radiated from his tensed shoulders up the back of his head. She wouldn’t be too obvious. Not her birthday or any permutation of her name.
The water gurgle stopped. A cupboard door slammed shut.
The password wouldn’t be all that obscure either. In fact, she’d joked about using the same password for as many sites as possible, some variation of—
Her childhood nickname. She’d reminded him of the name, and he’d had to pretend to remember.
The hair dryer roared to life.
Her password related to that idyllic time when Zoe loved Susannah and Nathan in equal measure, before the mother-daughter strife began. Shirley Temple ringlets and tap dancing lessons and singalongs.
Lollipop.
That was it. On the good ship Lollipop.
The hair dryer shut off.
Nathan tapped in lolipop—Jesus, hurry—and poked repeatedly to insert the second l into the word.
Another bathroom cupboard slammed shut, and the bathroom door opened. Nathan froze.
“Dad?”
“Ay?”
“I forgot to tell you that Danny—Detective Sergeant Ahern—rang to check that you had arrived from the hospital. He’s nice when he’s not harassing you.”
The bathroom door clicked shut again. Nathan exhaled. Danny would keep at him until Nathan cracked in half and oozed out the foulness inside himself called the truth. Whatever that was. Nathan wasn’t sure he knew anymore. Or ever knew, for that matter.
He poked in the l finally, holding his breath again—and he was in. Colorful app icons beckoned him. He opened the contacts app and found Sid under “Sid.” He repeated the phone number to himself under his breath, shoved the mobile back into Zoe’s purse, and ran into the kitchen to write the number down before he forgot.
With the scrap of paper tucked into his pocket, he returned to his seat at the kitchen table and allowed himself a rare moment of satisfaction.
sixty-two
Wednesday, 31-Mar
Do you remember, dear Annie, our many conversations about living in a world tailored for extroverts? You and I, we’re observers. You, of course, put your watchful tendencies to good use as a psychiatric nurse. Highly commendable, though it didn’t end up being good for your mental health.
Even off duty, you couldn’t help analyzing Nathan. I agree with what you wrote about him in your half of this journal. He’s an interesting case. Quite paranoid, as far as I can tell, but not because of the outside world, except maybe for that daughter of his. Zoe. Fly, be free, little girl. But no, all she wants is a redo on her past. Have you noticed that people prefer their cages?
I find myself more attracted to Nathan than to his daughter. While spying on him through his kitchen window—binoculars, as you well remember; that’s where my observational skills lead me—I caught him fondling his knives in the most abstracted way.
How tantalizing. I know that look. I’m sure I’ve been described as abstracted. I wonder if there’s a way I can use his fascination with knives. Thoughts are forming—a way through the upcoming complications.
sixty-three
Danny entered his house through the back door with two pizzas in hand and much-needed kid time in mind. The investigations had reached the tedious stage of burrowing into obscure leads and wrangling paperwork. For Annie’s death, Sid Gibson still intrigued him, but nothing concrete had ascended out of the masses of information that DS Sheehy diligently parsed and delegated. Nathan as the common point between the two deaths had led nowhere. In four days, they’d lose Sheehy back to his district.
“Pizza!” Danny called.
“’Allo,” returned Marcus from the living room. A moment later the children hustled into the kitchen. Danny stooped to hug them hello, and gave their tabby kittens, Ashe and Fire, back scratches while he was at it.
“Can we eat in the living room?” Mandy said. “We’re playing Legos, and I need to keep an eye on things.”
From the living room, Danny caught murmuring voices. “Who’s with Grandpap?”
“That woman Mum doesn’t like.” Mandy climbed onto a kitchen chair and opened a pizza box. “Is she allowed in our house?”
Merrit, then. No surprise, since she and Marcus were friends, but he hoped visiting didn’t become a habit. “Merrit is Grandpap’s friend.”
“Why doesn’t Mum like her?”
Danny pulled down plates to give himself a second to think. “She annoys Mum, that’s all.”
“Does she annoy you, too?”
“At times. Doesn’t Petey annoy you sometimes?”
“Yes, but that’s different.”
“Annoyance is annoyance.” He tousled her hair. “What are you going to do?”
“Yeah,” Petey echoed, “what are you going to do?”
Mandy snorted and retraced her steps into the living room with Petey following on her heels. Tricky kid conversations often left Danny feeling fraudulent in the parenting department. He hadn’t realized that Mandy knew how Ellen felt about Merrit. The thought distressed him, though not on Merrit’s behalf. Kids should be sheltered from the shite that arrived with adult relationships. In this respect, he and Ellen had failed as parents. He couldn’t help but wonder what else they’d failed to shelter Mandy and Petey from. They’d certainly felt more loss than any children should at their ages.
He gathered up the pizzas, plates, and napkins, and entered the living room. Merrit relaxed with Marcus on the couch while the children sat on the ground playing with a Lego space station and a Lego house. Merrit aimed an apologetic grimace at Danny.
Ah, so she had more in mind than visiting with Marcus.
He greeted Merrit in a nonchalant way to prevent Mandy’s hackles from rising any further and set the pizzas on the coffee table. “There’s plenty for all of us.”
Danny wasn’t fooled by Mandy’s absorption in her Lego house. She’d aimed her ears at them like satellite dishes. With great dignity, she picked up the piece of pepperoni pizza farthest from where Merrit sat, slid it onto a plate, and returned to her spot in front of the blocks.
Marcus bit into a slice of sausage and mushroom. “Merrit was telling me the preparations for Liam’s festival have gotten out of hand.”
“Do you think people will come?” Merrit said.
Marcus guffawed. “Listen to her. She’s after wanting to be let off the hook.”
Merrit picked up a slice of pepperoni with a smile at Petey. Mandy scowled as she regarded Merrit from under her bangs.
Danny opened his mouth to admonish Mandy for her bad manners, but Marcus shook his head. “Mandy’s been working on her Lego house. It’s a mighty beauty, isn’t it?”
“It’s a hotel for the space station visitors,” Mandy said.
Danny lowered himself to the floor beside her. “Smart thinking.”
She leaned into him, showing him the tiny yellow chairs and tables while Marcus and Merrit continued their conversation. Danny half listened to them, half listened to his daughter. After a while, he gathered up her plate along with Marcus’s.
“Let me help you.” Merrit paused with an awkward glance around the room. Her eyes glowed green in the light from the closest lamp.
“Grab the pizza boxes, would you?” Danny said.
&n
bsp; “Sorry about that,” Merrit said once they were alone. “I wasn’t sure what to say with the kids there.”
“Next time text me to let me know you need to talk with me.”
She was quick to demur. “I wanted to catch up with Marcus, too.”
Danny set about wrapping the leftover pizza slices in tinfoil. She rinsed a plate and set it in the dishwasher.
“It’s about Nathan,” she said. “The other day in the hospital, he expressed interest in Sid Gibson. He’d overheard your side of a phone conversation.”
“Bloody hell. He did a good impersonation of being asleep.”
“He’s convinced that Sid killed Annie.” She leaned against the counter with gaze aimed at a drawing of a purple Easter bunny that hung on the refrigerator. “He wanted to know what I knew about the man—what you might have told me.”
The doorbell rang, followed by a flurry of children’s footsteps. In the other room, Zoe laughed at something Petey said. “Hello,” she said, “I’m Zoe. Nice to meet you.”
Merrit groaned. “What’s she doing here?”
“Peddling her services?”
“Let’s hope not.” She popped a stray piece of pepperoni into her mouth. “I want to ask you a favor, but it can wait for now.”
“Dad!” Mandy yelled. “This lady brought cake. Can we have dessert?”
“Cake,” Merrit muttered. “It’ll be from scratch, you’ll see.”
Zoe as Pied Piper entered the kitchen with the children not far behind. She’d wrapped one of her blue scarves over her head like a 1950s Hollywood starlet. “Chocolate cake as a thank-you token for taking my dad to the hospital.” She placed the offering, with its swirls of decadent frosting, on the counter and turned her exuberant
smile toward Merrit. “What a nice surprise! I was just thinking about you and Liam. I can’t wait for the party this weekend.”
“Oh yes.” Merrit didn’t bother to disguise her ambivalence. “That looks delicious. I bet you made it yourself.”
“I don’t bake often,” Zoe said. “I’m more of a meal maker, but I decided to try my hand.”
Marcus took charge. “I’ll cut our slices and the kidlings can eat while I read them a story.”
“I want to stay here,” Petey said.
Mandy glared from Zoe to Merrit and back. “The adults probably need to talk.”
“Correct,” Danny said. “We know a man who is sick, and we’re trying to help him.”
“Bully for you.” She grabbed her slice of cake and marched out of the room ahead of Marcus and Petey.
“What a wee sprite,” Zoe said. “She’ll be a precocious one, you’ll see.”
“Like you were?” Merrit said.
“Oh no. I was a homebody as a teenager. I lived with my grandparents, you know. My mom’s parents. They didn’t live too far from us in Sussex. I was a good girl and kept my precocity to myself.”
Danny marveled at Zoe’s capacity for sidelining the world of hurt that lurked below the surface story. “You must have missed your dad.”
Zoe’s cheerful expression dimmed. “I did. I was disappointed. I’d thought we’d be grand, the two of us, after the grief over my mother’s death lessened. Silly. What did I know about big emotions?”
Danny sliced off a bite-sized piece of cake and chewed. Merrit did the same. Danny beckoned Zoe to partake also. She smiled her thanks and cut off a chunk for herself.
“What happened the day Nathan was committed?” he said.
“You don’t know?”
“It’s difficult to get psych records. We’re still waiting.”
“Ooh.” Zoe popped the piece of cake into her mouth. “All this time, I thought you knew.” She slipped out of her white coat and unwound the scarf from around her neck. She wore a jumper with a cowled neckline that she proceeded to grab from the bottom.
“Hold on there,” Danny said.
Zoe rolled her eyes. “You’re not going to see anything a bikini top wouldn’t reveal.”
In one fluid movement she pulled off the jumper. Her bra surprised Danny. A simple white garment without a speck of lace or frill, girlish in its simplicity. She pivoted so that her back faced them. Between her shoulder blades, two scars marred the smooth expanse of ivory skin. Unlike Nathan’s scar, they’d healed into shiny, pale lines.
“He went mental on me. Lost his marbles.” She pulled the jumper back on and turned around. She sliced another piece of cake as she spoke. “He’s not violent, you know. Not really. His attempt to kill me was pretty feeble.”
“You forgave him.”
She plopped the chunk into her mouth. “Of course. He’s my dad. I understand why he hid himself away from me in Ireland all these years. I wasn’t the perfect daughter. I was too insistent about myself, I think. The way I am, you know?” Her smile reappeared. “You can’t tell me you haven’t noticed that about me.”
“Enthusiastic,” Merrit said.
“That’s my word for it. Some would call me pushy.”
Some days Danny’s children pushed him to the bleeding edge, and some days he barely contained the urge to tear out his hair or slam his hand down on a tabletop. How pushy would a child need to be to tip a mentally unstable parent over the edge? Answer: not pushy at all. A child being a child could be more than enough.
“How old were you when Nathan first showed signs of instability?”
Zoe picked up the cake knife and set it aside again. “Mum and Dad loved each other. They had a wonderful relationship, the best, and they loved me. I don’t remember anything in particular until I hit adolescence, and then Dad distanced himself. I was rebellious in my small ways. What you’d expect, I guess. And I resented Mum’s rule more. I was such a pill sometimes!” She laughed, shaking her head. “The big change came around the time Mum died. I wish I could be more helpful.”
She wrapped her scarf around her shoulders again. The fringe caught on one of her butterfly earrings. She eased the earring free. “I never blamed my dad for attacking me. In a strange way, I considered it a sign that he cared.”
With that she swung her coat over her shoulders and said her goodbyes. After the front door shut behind her, Merrit’s comment pretty much said all that Danny was thinking.
“That’s one fecked-up relationship those two have.”
“Nice use of the word feck,” he said.
sixty-four
The moon cut a swath of pale light across the ceiling above Nathan and, within that pale stream, layers of darkness shifted and merged. He struggled against sweat-dampened sheets, but invisible manacles held him fast to the bed.
An apparition in the form of a dark man wavered at the foot of his bed. A scream began deep inside Nathan but caught in his throat. His chest was about to explode, his heart beating too hard. The shadow oozed toward him along the swath of moonlight. A creature wriggled within its cupped hands.
“No,” Nathan moaned and struggled harder to free himself. The dark form spread and merged into the shadows until only its dark hands floated toward him.
“Leave me alone,” he said. Or thought he said. “Go away.”
The shadow hands floated closer, hands shaped into a cup, a struggling creature trapped inside them. The fingers tightened, snuffing the panicked chirrup of the bird, and then opened to reveal a goldfinch, its bright yellow and red plumage dulled by death.
“Don’t,” he said. Or thought he said.
The hands closed over the bird and a moment later parted to reveal the goldfinch blinking, fluttering, about to find its wings. The shadow hands crushed down on it again.
And opened. Again. To reveal a dead bird.
Nathan’s neck muscles ached as he strained against the invisible shackles. He was doomed to exist here forever, imprisoned with this bird, this dead-then-alive bird, and the shadowy being that repeatedly snuffed out its light and resurrected it.
“Stop,” he said. Or thought he said.
The hands turned toward him, the palms empty, the bird gone,
replaced by a squirmy worm of a creature. The hands bobbed in front of Nathan’s face, now close enough that he recognized himself inside them, and the darkness within those hands descended on him.
He woke to find himself beside the window, gasping within the stream of moonlight. He clenched a kitchen knife so hard his hand ached. He swallowed against rawness in his throat, trying to remember when he had fetched the knife. The carving knife, he now saw.
“Dad!” Zoe pounded on the door. “Let me in.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’ve been screaming nonstop for the last five minutes. You’re not fine.”
He couldn’t move, though. His limbs refused to obey orders. Instead, he perched on the windowsill and gave in to tremors that rocked his body. The palsy aftermath of one of his night terrors. The knife dropped with a sharp clack against the floorboards.
Zoe must stop with her knocking and her calling. He needed her to shut up, shut up, shut up—“Shut up!” he yelled.
She did, but he sensed her on the other side of the door, ever-present, even during the years before she’d found him.
“This isn’t going to work, Zoe,” he said. Or thought he said.
Yes, he did say it aloud. Zoe’s sigh told him that much. “It can work. You need me. That much is obvious.”
“I can’t have you in the house when you’re—” Nathan shook his head. He had no words. He wasn’t great with words on the best of occasions. “You need to leave people alone. Let them be, especially Liam.”
What he wanted to say, of course, was to let him be. He didn’t want her in the house. Her presence made his scar ache, and the crackle and static paralyzed him at times.
“I’m not leaving.” She spoke with firm resolve. “We’ll work it out. You’ll see.”
Or what? Work it out, or what?
Zoe’s footsteps retreated toward her bedroom. Her door clicked shut. Nathan breathed again, forcing oxygen into and out of his body. The image of the goldfinch returned. The yellow-tipped wings and scarlet face, delicate scales on its toes, glossy black eyes. More real than reality, that goldfinch. But then, memory, dream, or hallucination … what did it matter anymore?
