by R. T. Wolfe
"Those don't actually go there." He gestured to the lamps.
"Did you change this to the master bedroom?"
He shook his head a few short times.
"Oh, I see. This is your extra room." She sat on the edge of the bed. "It's no wonder people pay you what they do." She felt drained and would have crawled in with her clothes on if Nathan weren't there to help.
"I'll check on you after a while."
But she hardly heard him. She was already falling asleep.
In her dream, her arms and legs felt heavy. She stood at the bottom of her parents' stairs. She felt determined to keep her promise to Duncan and move on from this, but it was so hard when her parents' killers walked free and continually disrupted her life and now those around her.
Think, Brie, think. Her parents were still upstairs, yelling her name. The backdraft from her bedroom was still sucking air, the yellowish tint underneath the door. The couple. Where the hell were they?
"Mother." She squeezed her eyes shut and forced herself to leave her parents' house. Leave the scream of the smoke detectors, the warmth of seeing her mother look to her.
She walked out the front door and instantly felt the balmy, warm June night. She could smell the moist air and the green of her mother's bushes.
She forced herself to walk faster and then to run. They had to be there. Down the street.
She could see them. See the backs of them. They wore black. How cliché. They seemed to sense her footsteps and picked up their pace.
Chapter 29
Anxious for knowledge, Brie yelled at them to stop, to turn around. One was a woman. One a man. The woman was taller than the man, but they both had on caps so she couldn't see their faces or their hair. They ran at the sound of her calls and turned the corner at the end of the cul-de-sac.
"Stop!" she cried, dropping to her knees.
Her eyes flew open to the dark, and she sucked in three deep, fast gasps of air.
"It was just a dream, baby. It's over." Nathan sat back, giving her blessed breathing room.
She rolled over in the soft sheets to catch her breath. "You didn't wake me?"
"Was I supposed to? You were dreaming of your mother. I didn't know if you'd want me to." He sat for a minute. "You want water or something?"
"No." She rolled over to look at him. "Will you stay? Just for a while?"
He tucked in behind her, and she pulled his arms close. "I dream about the fire sometimes."
"Is that good or bad?"
"Funny you should ask that. It's both, actually. I feel ripped apart to relive it, but I can't stay away. The last thing my mother does before she dies is look at me. I relish that moment, as sick as that sounds."
"Not sick. I'm glad I didn't wake you."
"That's the thing." She rolled, being careful to lift the back of her head as she turned to him. "It's been changing lately, evolving. Ever since I met you, actually." Her eyes wandered in thought. "I see the people who murdered my parents. I saw them that night and in my dream, they're becoming more... real. I'm not sure if it's me yearning to learn who they are or if I'm waking parts of my memory, but it feels like I know them."
"You know, the police aren't leaning toward a them."
"I know. Maybe they're right." She rolled back over and tucked into him.
* * *
Dave finished his time as an officer and was officially Detective Nolan. He stood in brown shoes, brown pants and a long-sleeved blue shirt with his handcuffs fastened to his gun sling. He sat on the edge of his metal desk, studying his case board.
He wasn't ready to take McKinney off the short list just because an eight-year-old kid thought Brie's thug swung like a girl. He had motive, opportunity and skill with setting fires. Finley was crazy enough. She had the opportunity and a motive, in her own schizo-head. Lucy Melbourne could have done it. She's not too old for a four-wheeler. Jealousy. Pride. All good reasons for revenge.
Nolan's brainstorming was interrupted by Detective Tanner's voice. He walked up to Dave and introduced the woman walking next to him. She was average height, with straight, glossy black hair cut in a bob around her face. Thin, she looked to be in her late thirties or early forties.
"Detective, this is Dr. Tracy Li. She's a profiler on loan from the city and will be here for a few days looking into some of our cold cases. I want to show her everything we've got and give her our hunches. Get any of the persons of interest back in here. Whatever she wants." Tanner looked back to Li. "I'll be in my office. Come in anytime."
* * *
"I'm going in for a full day tomorrow. I'm feeling much better. It's just the incline of your drive that still gets me." Brie sat at the end of Nathan's brown leather couch in the room meant to be a library with her legs propped on his lap. "I'll have the weekend to recuperate if I get too tired."
Nathan sat flipping pages in a custom kitchen magazine with one hand and digging his thumb in the bottom of her foot with the other.
"Are you ever going to touch me again?"
He stopped turning pages but didn't look at her. "I am touching you."
"You know what I mean."
"You got out of the hospital less than a week ago, mostly thanks to me making a deal with the doctor." He lifted his eyes to hers.
"I'm not breakable." She sat up and crawled over to him, laying across his lap.
He gently tucked her into the crook of his arm and kissed her long and soft. "Your head says otherwise." He held her face and rubbed his thumb across her cheek. "I have a great need for you. I hope that doesn't scare you. I don't want to hurt you."
She closed her eyes and sighed. "Still not breakable, but I guess we should wait for a time when your kids aren't just up the stairs. Will you tell me what Dave's got going on?"
He shifted her to face him. "Not as much as you might like."
"Try me."
"Brian's been questioned a number of times. Duncan's sense that your attacker is female has given him a reprieve. Sandy's back in town—"
Brie sat up straight. "Sandy's been found? What did they find? Is she in jail?"
"They've questioned her... thoroughly. She offered to let the police search her home, and they came up empty. She says she took out cash and went to get away for a while to look for a new job. They're working on her. Patrols pass by regularly. A profiler was called in. They're still watching activity and checking on a number of other people, but have come up empty so far. I'm sorry."
"It's okay. I'm used to it. I meant it when I said I won't be caught off guard again."
* * *
Dave sat at his old metal desk next to Jim. Dr. Li used his office for the duration of her time, preparing reports and profiling suspects for a handful of their cold cases. He'd hoped she'd gotten a good feel for the one that was so personal to him. A grease-ringed brown napkin sat under his ignored, stale doughnut. He sipped lukewarm coffee and reviewed his files.
Detective Tanner came out of his office and motioned for him to come in. At the same time, Dr. Li came out of his new office and headed in the same direction.
Finally. Patiently and attentively, he listened and took notes regarding the case of a missing teenager from an upper-middle class family in the small town just west of Northridge and that of a decade-old murder of a forty-seven-year-old man who had been engaged to marry his fourth wife. He wouldn't give Brie's case anymore attention than the others; it would just be nice to know.
"Chapman case. I have five distinguishing characteristics I would recommend you look for regarding the assailant." She flipped through some of the pages on her full-sized yellow legal pad while tilting her head up to see through her bifocals.
"I believe the assailant is female. Due to Chapman's mostly gender specific occupation, the criminal we are looking for is statistically speaking not a male with issues regarding her success. My belief in the gender of the accused also lies in the nature of the attacks against the victim. The particular species chosen for mutilation are animals women g
enerally think would illicit distress.
"I believe she has professional experience with fire, either through employment or an active hobby or has an accomplice thereof. The fire was precise and unique. Definitely not started by an amateur. The use of the backdraft would not be from a homegrown, self-study arsonist. The lack of evidence and of witnesses shows precision in calculations and in timing."
Dr. Li lifted from her chair as she spoke and began pacing slowly over the generous office space. "I believe the occupation of the suspect to be similar to that of the victim. However, at a lower level of pay and/or of status. Jealousy and pride are relative to one's rank. Miss Chapman's attacker struck her place of employment on a number of occasions, ending with the extensive effort to defame her reputation with the public exposure of the private photographs.
"The criminal is likely to be someone that is at least somewhat close to Miss Chapman. It seems she knows Brianna not only teaches, but works individually with the assistant superintendent, has turned down a number of administrative offers and has been chosen as keynote speaker in at least a half-dozen seminars. The criminal chose a night Miss Chapman was to be alone to set the fire, knew which room was hers and how to get in the house. The use of RU-46 on the pregnant dog points to knowledge that would likely come from a close acquaintance.
"Finally, I believe you are looking for someone that is between the ages of twenty-eight and forty-five. The suspect would be old enough to have been of a working-class age six years ago and young enough that Miss Chapman's lifestyle would be motive enough for assault and murder."
* * *
The weeks passed. The air grew warmer and Brie grew stronger. She sat in the soft grass with Nathan, Dave and Amanda as the kids played in the creek. The Forester grasses had grown tall enough that they blew in the wind and provided protection for the blooming purple Liatris. Rain was still sparse and the creek still low.
The children's small feet sunk in the exposed creek mud up to their ankles. As usual, Duncan seemed to prefer a chair and a fishing pole over walking in mud and was becoming a pro at hooking the catfish from the lake. Andy and Rose were too impatient for sitting and chose to explore the creek.
She leaned back against Nathan's legs, wearing her denim shorts and tank as they watched. Amanda twisted open a beer to share with Dave while she and Nathan sipped on Zinfandel.
Andy taught Rose how to catch crawfish. It was a sight. He pointed. She pushed. At one time they stood nose to nose with their arms straight and pointing behind them looking ready for battle. It was Amanda's turn to try to intervene, and it was Nathan's turn to stick his arm out to keep her from it.
"Just wait. Give them a minute."
Before the stand-off came to a head, the kids both saw something from the corner of their eyes, pointed at the water and dug in. Each came out with a thrashing, pinching crawfish. Andy stood like it was an everyday thing, and Rose jumped up and down heroically. Each tossed their catch in their bucket of water and hugged, covering one another with mud.
Rose turned toward the adults and yelled, "Can we eat them?"
Andy made a face of great disgust as he stood behind Rose. When she turned to him for approval, he merely shrugged one shoulder, mimicking his brother.
"Sure thing," Nathan yelled back before he turned to Brie. "Anyone know how to cook crawfish—" He heard Duncan let out a whoop and saw his pole bend over and Duncan jerking it, then reeling the line. "—and catfish?"
* * *
Dave carried Rose nestled in his arms the short walk to Clifford's house. "She smells like fish," he said, and kissed the top of her head.
"You've been quiet all night. Is there anything the matter? Something I can do?"
Taking hold of her mass of strawberry blonde hair, Amanda held it behind her head and looked away. "You've always treated her like she's your... like she's special to you."
"Mmm." He nodded and tucked Rose into him like a small pillow.
"You took her with us to Florida."
"Damn straight." He thought of Disney World with a five-year-old and smiled. Smiled until he noticed Amanda rubbing her fingertips in circles against her forehead.
"There's something I should talk to you about. Can you come in for a while?"
"Yeah. There's something I need to talk to you about, too."
He waited on the brownish plaid couch that felt like burlap. There was an ancient television set with rabbit ears that stood on the floor in the corner of the room.
Amanda came back in then. She sat in the corner of the couch, crossed her legs and set her hands in her lap. The look on her face pained him, but he was patient.
"I should have told you this a long time ago. I'm sorry for not doing that." She looked everywhere but at him. "I'm okay with... no, not okay... I understand whatever you decide to do with what I'm about to tell you. I thought about telling you when we were at Disney, but it never seemed like the right time. I've never told anyone this, Dave, not even Brie. And, of course, Rose doesn't know because she's too young. And I'm not sure when or how to tell her."
She was nearly hyperventilated. He wanted so much to reach out to her, but something told him not to.
Instead, he placed his arm across the back of the sofa, almost reaching her.
"Rose's dad," she began and looked at him with wide eyes. She closed her eyes and turned her head, taking a deep breath. "I was in Nicaragua—"
"You don't have to do this," he interrupted.
"Please." She didn't look up. "The stories of me being young and loose and not knowing who... that's not exactly true."
She stared at her hands.
"I wasn't loose. I was busy getting into more administrative positions with Red Cross, involving international aid operations." Her speech sped to a mile a minute. "He said he was there from the U.S., but now I'm not so sure. He didn't look like a local. Blond, tall, but spoke fluent Espanola."
Oh hell, why was she telling him this?
"We went out for drinks a few times, and he thought that gave him the right... "
Without thinking, he flew up from the couch.
She looked at him now and in her eyes he saw fear.
"He raped me. Rose is... is from that."
He'd never felt such anger. She never told anyone? She's gone through this by herself? His mind flew into cop mode. Date, probable time, location. Pacing, he ran his hands through his hair, grabbing chunks and holding on as he tried to think. His glare flew to the ceiling, the walls. There were questions in his mind at the edges of a dozen vivid images. The feelings were overwhelming, unbearable, and his mind raced. He would find him, find him and hurt him and everything he was.
"Where is he?" He needed information, but when he looked to her he saw something much more terrifying, much more unbearable.
Amanda sat trembling with large beads of sweat lining her forehead. And in her eyes he saw shame. His Amanda.
"I... I didn't see him after that. I s-swear. He doesn't know about Rose, I mean."
Dave dropped to the couch and sat next to her.
"Marry me."
"What? Why? What?" Amanda shook her head slowly and wiped the tears from her cheeks. "I drop this on you, and you propose? You don't have to do this. Don't do this because you feel... sorry for me... sorry for Rose. I'm just... I just thought I should—"
"Because I'm in love with you. I knew I was going to marry you the first time I walked you to your grandfather's door. This is what I had to talk to you about tonight." He moved over in front of her and lowered to one knee. "I'm in love with you. I want you to be my wife. I want Rose to be my daughter. I don't care how she got here. I want to make her little brothers and sisters." He dug in his pocket and peeled through a tissue. "I've been carrying this around with me for months. Will you marry me?"
The tears flowed freely over her beautiful chipmunk cheeks. She sat on her grandpa's old couch in his old living room perfectly still. "Yes—"
He covered her mouth with his before she could
say another word. Picking her up, she wrapped her legs around his sides. He felt her cling to him as he wriggled around to get the ring on her finger. It was a single solitaire diamond and too big for her finger. She dropped her forehead to his as she held it out to see.
Chapter 30
Brie couldn't get used to the idea that someone at her work place might be the one responsible for the attacks against her. It made her feel both like a traitor and also rather paranoid. If not with Liz, she preferred keeping to herself.
Report cards were completed for the last time. Boxes were packed and walls were stripped. She realized this was the first time she could remember the summer feeling like a need and not a want. No summer school, no tutoring. She would work with Amanda on her landscaping jobs and work through the list of things the boys wanted to see and do.
"Hey, stranger." Susie Phillips stuck her head in Brie's classroom. "Will you be packed up today?" She walked in and looked around. "Oh, figures. You're already packed up. Is that a bulletin board for August? I hate you."
See? Brie thought. Paranoid. "After six years at the same grade level, I have a system. How much longer do you have?"
"Days. Ugh." She walked around looking at the boxes and empty walls. "It's always hard to see them off, don't you think?"
"Yes." Paranoid, paranoid.
"Especially this year, for you. How is little Andy Reed?"
"Very well, thank you."
They continued small talk until Susie looked at her watch and excused herself.
Bulletin boards were empty and extra garbage cans placed throughout the hallways. As Brie walked down the busy hallway, she thought of how Nathan maneuvered around her each time she brought up staying back at her house. Living out of a suitcase was getting old. Duncan must have sensed the tension on the subject with his nightly questioning to Brie about where she'd be staying.
