One other time they’d observed the teenage son as he walked dispiritedly down the driveway, his hands in the pockets of his hooded sweatshirt, his jeans loose and sloppy. He was a portly kid, what her previous boyfriend Evan would have called a heifer. She’d corrected Evan once, saying that heifer only referred to a female cow, but he’d given her a withering glare that made her drop the subject before he got mad and became physical.
There was nothing about the Fleming family that indicated they had a foster daughter, so maybe what Sharon had photographed the other night had been a visitor after all. As she watched, Mrs. Fleming opened the back door to the house and screamed something that sounded like the boy’s name followed by a continuous run of angry words impossible for Niki to make out. A little dog ran out between the woman’s legs, and this seemed to aggravate her even more. Noticing the dog, the woman stepped out onto the porch and waved her arm in an aggressive manner. The shrill rise and fall of her voice cut right to Niki’s core.
Niki tucked the binoculars under one arm and unlatched the window, then slid it up so she could hear better. A blast of cold air came through the screen, but it didn’t matter. It was necessary if she wanted to hear more. She put the binoculars up to her face and scanned the yard.
Mrs. Fleming screamed, “Griswold, you get back here right now!” The little dog ran in circles, not responding to the command. “Jacob, stop what you’re doing and grab that mutt!”
Jacob didn’t even look up, but he waved his arm with the flashlight and yelled, “Ma, just go back in the house. I’ll bring him in when I’m done.”
The words were barely out of his mouth when she screamed back at him, “Don’t you tell me what to do!” She looked up toward Sharon’s house, and Niki stepped to the side of the window, even though she knew she couldn’t be seen. “I want that dog in the house now!”
She was so angry that Niki anticipated a brawl right there in the snowy backyard, but instead Jacob ignored his mother, and she turned and went back into the house. The screen door banged shut, but the main door stayed open, the light from the house streaming out into the yard. A moment later she reappeared with a little girl, who she hastily pushed onto the porch. “Go get him,” Mrs. Fleming ordered in a mean tone.
The girl trudged through the snow, calling out, “Griswold, come here, boy!” She wore jeans and an oversize sweatshirt that made her look even smaller than she was. Her hair was dark brown and cut into a short bob, just past her ears. At the sound of her voice, the dog stopped his crazed running and darted in a straight line right to her, joyfully leaping into her arms. She scooped him up and carried him back inside, where Mrs. Fleming stood impatiently waiting. Once the girl and the dog crossed the threshold, the door was slammed shut behind them. In the yard, the boy shook his head as he kept on searching.
The whole exchange lasted only a few minutes, and on the surface, it was really nothing. A dog got loose, a little girl was sent outside to round him up. Not a big deal. So why was Niki’s heart pounding like it did during the suspenseful part of a thriller movie? Maybe it was because she could now confirm what Sharon had seen the previous week. There was definitely a little girl at the Flemings’ house. Daughter? Niece? Foster child? Visitor? No way to know for sure. She didn’t look like she was being abused either, unless you counted going outside for two minutes without a jacket.
But there was something off about the whole scenario. The child’s clothes didn’t quite fit her, and her hair looked like it had been chopped, rather than cut by someone who knew what they were doing. And why would Mrs. Fleming go out of her way to send the girl to get the family dog instead of doing it herself or waiting to let her son do it? By the dog’s response, he clearly loved the little girl, so if she was a foster child, it was a good guess that she’d been living there for a while.
On the surface, the whole exchange appeared normal, but it still struck Niki as odd. Just odd. She wished she’d thought to take out her phone and get it on video.
Niki continued to spy until Jacob finished doing yard patrol and went back inside the house. She slid the window shut and latched the top before heading downstairs. She couldn’t wait to tell Sharon what she’d just seen and that they finally had a name for the Flemings’ son. Jacob.
Chapter Eleven
Sometimes Jacob wished his mother would die. Nothing too terrible, just a sudden heart attack or ruptured brain aneurism—something fatal, but not terribly drawn out or painful. He imagined her collapsing and the rest of the family reacting to the sight: they’d cry in alarm and scramble to call 911. It would be best if it happened in the kitchen, he thought, where she could grab onto the counter on the way down, breaking her fall. That way there wouldn’t be a lot of blood. Once the ambulance arrived, the paramedics would rush in and do what they could, but in the end, of course, it would be futile. “We’re so sorry,” they’d say, and he pictured himself mournfully nodding, sad but appreciative that they’d done their best.
Being motherless would bring him sympathy, and he’d be regretful that he and his mom never had much of a mother-son connection, but he wouldn’t miss her, not for a minute. There was no point to her existence, as far as he could tell. The household was happier when she wasn’t around. Even Griswold, who had a brain the size of a walnut, appeared nervous in her presence, his hindquarters trembling when she raised her voice.
Jacob tried to keep out of her way because just the sight of him provoked her. She either found things for him to do or criticized aspects of his personality and appearance. She said he had a bad attitude. His hair was too long. He needed to lose weight.
His weight was the most common complaint. The fact that he was fat made her insane, a symbol of her failure as a mother. She’d signed up for a family gym membership and was furious when he refused to go with her. She’d outlawed snack food of any kind and monitored anything he ate at home, forcing him to sneak around to buy junk food from the gas station on the corner. He was becoming a bit of a regular around there, stopping after school to buy bags of chips and sodas, which he surreptitiously hid in his backpack.
What his mother wanted was the opposite of him. She wanted a perfect son, an athlete with top grades, the type who competed on the debate team. His closet was filled with clothes she’d purchased—polo shirts and pleated khakis—none of which he would ever wear. When he was little she’d forced him to go to the barbershop on a regular basis, but when he hit his teen years he was able to physically resist, something that infuriated her. She’d given up on the idea of taking him to the barber, but he’d paid for it with weeks of her verbal abuse.
She was such a nutjob.
Occasionally, his dad would speak up in his defense. The last time had been when she’d hovered over him with a pair of scissors, threatening to cut his hair right there in the kitchen while he was trying to eat breakfast. His dad had looked up from his tablet and said, “Leave the kid alone. He’s fine.” This type of talk did not go over well with his mother, who could go off on an angry rant better than anyone he knew. At least it got her to put down the scissors and direct her ire at his father, allowing him to slip away.
After that, his dad had started taking him to the barber, but he let Jacob decide how he wanted his hair to be cut. Jacob liked it long, and not just because it made his mother crazy. Having his hair cut around his ears and off his neck made him feel exposed. Better to have a buffer.
His father said she’d always been moody, but she’d gotten worse after Olivia passed away. His sister, Olivia, had lived and died before he was even born, but he still thought about her from time to time. His mother never spoke of her, but his dad had told him the whole awful story. His dad had been out of town attending a medical conference. While he was away, Olivia, who was only five months old, had developed a fever, which his mother treated with infant acetaminophen. When the fever didn’t break, she took the baby to the emergency room. Less than twenty-four hours later, Olivia was dead. His dad had rushed home from the conference
as soon as he heard, but it was too late. The doctors said it was no one’s fault. Sometimes, despite their best efforts, patients died. “When I heard it was meningitis, I had a bad feeling,” his dad had said, shaking his head. Even years later, his eyes filled up with tears when he talked about Olivia. “When the baby died, your mother was destroyed. She blamed me, of course, for not being there.” He’d sighed. “I’d hoped we’d get through it together, but it was never the same.” Jacob got the impression that his dad blamed himself as well. “And when you were born, I thought it would help.”
Sometimes Jacob wondered what it would have been like if Olivia had lived. Would she have been the golden child his mother had wanted? Would they have even bothered to have a second child? It added to the feeling that he was a disappointment to her.
The crazy thing was how much other people loved his mother. Teachers, neighbors, his friends. She could be charming when she wanted to be; too bad her own family never saw much of this side of her. During parent-teacher conferences, when discussing his terrible grades with his teachers, she was the epitome of the concerned, loving mother. He knew this because teachers often commented on it, one of them even telling him he was fortunate to have such a devoted, caring mom. Ha ha! If only they knew. The funny thing was how often this kind of comment surprised him when he should have been used to it by now. It had been going on his entire life.
When he was in grade school, she’d often volunteered in his classroom and accompanied the class on field trips. At school events she morphed into the perfect mom, calling him sweetheart, tousling his hair, telling cute stories about him to the other adults. Stories he didn’t remember happening. It was confusing back then because he hadn’t known it was just an act. He lost count of the times some other kid told him how lucky he was to have such a nice mother. Once one of the girls had told him that his mom was so beautiful: “Like a model.” Good grief. What could he say to that? That’s just on the outside. You should see her cold, dead heart. They’d never believe it. People were so easily fooled.
If only those same people could see her screaming about the dog getting loose in the yard. What did she expect when she stood there with the door open? She blamed Jacob because he hadn’t cleaned the yard after school, but he’d just forgotten. It could have waited until the next day, but no, like a lunatic, she made him go out and pick up poop in the dark. And then she made Mia run out and get Griswold when Jacob had said he’d bring the dog in when he was finished. She couldn’t even wait a few minutes. Everything was on her terms and her timeline. They were all prisoners to her whims.
Every member of the household knew that avoiding her was the best tactic for a peaceful existence. His dad traveled a lot for work, and Jacob suspected he added extra days onto his schedule to delay the inevitable return home. Jacob himself took refuge in his room and shut out his mother’s harsh voice with the help of headphones. Mia, who had fewer options, had taken to hiding behind the couch. She thought Jacob didn’t know this, but not much got past him. Mia played dumb, but she was smarter than his parents gave her credit for. They thought she could barely talk, which was laughable. When it was just the two of them, she talked plenty. She had a good vocabulary too. The little thing had somehow learned to read as well, but that was an unspoken secret known only by the two of them. That past summer he began giving her books he thought she might like, saying they were his when he was little when in fact he’d bought them at neighborhood yard sales.
It made her so happy. Seeing her face light up brightened his day a little bit too.
Mia was not mentally challenged, as his mother believed. There was nothing wrong with that kid’s brain. Jacob could have corrected his mother, but he liked having an edge on her. Knowing something she didn’t brought him immense satisfaction.
Living in this house was hell, but at least he could see a time when he’d be leaving for college. Poor Mia was doomed. She would be here forever.
Chapter Twelve
The next afternoon, Niki was left alone in the store for the first time since she’d been hired. It had been a slow day, and after a trio of old ladies walked out of the store, she and Dawn were the only ones there. As Niki was cleaning up the juice station, Dawn approached and said, “I just need to run to the bank to make a deposit. I’ll be back in fifteen minutes.”
“Sounds good.” Niki continued wiping the counter.
“So you’ll need to cover the store while I’m gone.” Dawn tapped a finger against the counter for emphasis.
“I understand. I will do my very best.”
This wasn’t the end of the conversation, however. As Dawn was heading out, she made a point to mention that she’d just replaced the cash register drawer. “So you should be all set if a customer comes in.” Dawn met her eyes, waiting for a response, but Niki just nodded. She knew she was being tested. She’d encountered this kind of thing in foster homes and other jobs. Cookies and bags of chips conveniently left out. Money sitting unattended. Browsers left open to see if she’d use a device without permission.
People were always so quick to assume she would steal if given the chance. Well, she was a lot of things, and not all of them were good, but she was honest. She didn’t take things that didn’t belong to her, not ever. Sure, it had been tempting at times, but she had never succumbed. It was more a matter of practicality than integrity. Life as an honest person could be difficult, but life as a criminal always caught up to you. She knew friends and family members who resorted to stealing or writing bad checks to get money for drugs. No matter how careful they were, the story always had the same ending. It was very much, she thought, like circling a drain. You were going down at some point. You just didn’t know when.
One of Niki’s former CASAs, the woman before Amy, used to greet her by asking, “You keeping your nose clean, Niki?” Such a weird expression, like something from an old movie. Not to mention insulting. She wasn’t a criminal—she was a foster kid, and not because she’d done something wrong. If anything, she went out of her way to play by the rules. Not that it was hard. People expected so little of her. Here at the store, for instance, they acted as if she needed constant supervision. Dawn had overemphasized the importance of handwashing and food sanitation, not knowing that Niki was fanatical about keeping herself and her surroundings clean. Fanatical bordering on obsessive. Niki found cleaning almost meditative. Wiping down counters, washing dishes, dusting. The act of transforming filth into cleanliness was satisfying on a soul level. Now that she was an adult and had control over her environment, she had definite preferences for how she wanted things.
Niki had finished cleaning the juice station and was stepping back to admire her work when the door opened and, to her surprise, in walked Suzette Fleming. The woman strode into the store, pulling off her leather gloves as she entered. She wore a knee-length tan suede coat that looked like it cost a fortune. Up close, her cherry-red hair looked even more striking, the blunt angles and layers so precise that she could have just walked out of a salon. Niki had told Sharon about seeing Mrs. Fleming, the dog, and the little girl the night before, so seeing Mrs. Fleming come into the store was a shock, as if she’d somehow conjured her up or inadvertently lured her into her personal sphere. The timing of her spying on this woman the previous evening and her sudden appearance at the store was unsettling. A wave of guilt came over her, a feeling that she was about to be confronted, so it was a relief when she came out from behind the counter and the woman showed no sign of recognition.
“Good afternoon,” Niki said. “Welcome to Magnificent Nutrition. What can I help you find today?” This particular greeting had been scripted by Dawn, and Niki was required to say the words verbatim. It struck her as being a little bit pushy, but Niki didn’t particularly mind. Usually people wanted to look around or asked about a particular product. Not this time, though.
Mrs. Fleming frowned as she shook off her coat and handed it to Niki. “Where is Dawn?”
“She just stepped out for a fe
w minutes. I’d be happy to help you.” Niki held the coat, not sure what to do with it. It was heavier than she would have expected; the material was soft and the lining expensive.
“No, no, no,” Mrs. Fleming said, shaking her head. “I’m sorry, but that won’t do. I have an understanding with Dawn. She’s arranged to procure something specifically for me.” Her voice was loud, and her stance, one hand on her hip, commanded respect.
“I can check the special orders in the stockroom,” Niki said, carefully laying the coat across the counter next to the register. The store had limited shelf space, so they only carried the most popular products, but Dawn and Max would special order almost anything upon request. A few of their customers were weight lifters who bought protein powder in bulk. It was hard to believe the amount of money people spent on such things, but Niki wasn’t about to question their judgment. These guys were enormous, all muscles, with shoulders that barely fit through the door. Niki hadn’t noticed that any of the special orders had Mrs. Fleming’s name on them, but she might have missed it. “If you give me a minute, I’ll check and be right back.”
Mrs. Fleming sighed impatiently. “Oh, honey, it won’t be in the back. This is a private arrangement between Dawn and myself.” She smiled as if Niki were a child who’d just said something nonsensical but oh-so-adorable. Mrs. Fleming leaned in toward Niki, so close that for a second she thought she was going to hug her. “Honey, here’s what we’re going to do. You’re going to get on the phone and give Dawn a call and let her know I’m here waiting and don’t have much time.” She smiled, showing beautiful white teeth. “Okay, enough talking. Let’s get started on that now.”
Niki took in a long breath, considering. “She said she’d only be gone fifteen minutes, so I’m sure she’ll be back any second.”
The Moonlight Child Page 7
