They exited through Sharon’s back patio door. When Niki glanced back, she saw Sarge watching as they trooped through the snow to the back of the lot. “The cat probably wonders what we’re doing,” she said.
“I’m wondering what we’re doing.” Sharon laughed quietly, the step stool tucked under her arm, the length of rope dragging in the snow. When they got to the back of the lot line, she unfolded it and positioned it right in front of the fence. “Are you nervous?”
Niki shook her head. “No. This will only take a few minutes, and if it works, we’ll have more to go on.”
“As long as you’re not caught.”
“That won’t be a problem. I’m sneaky like a ninja.”
Sharon had been sufficiently encouraging when they’d first discussed Niki doing this. She’d said she was for it in theory, but worried in practice. She didn’t want Niki to get hurt or in trouble. Now if Amy were here, she wouldn’t have allowed Niki to climb over the fence to spy on the neighbors. As tough as Amy was, she was still an attorney and, by association, a classic rule follower. She talked about procedure and due process and making sure bases were covered. Niki could tell that Sharon was a little more wishy-washy. She preferred going about things the right way, but the maternal side of her overruled it this time. She had a mother’s concern for both the unknown child and for Niki. She’d justified the trespassing by saying, “I’ve had kids cross through my yard before. Not saying I love it, but it’s not a big deal.” Of course, no one had had to scale a six-foot fence to get to her property.
Niki patted her pocket, making sure she had her phone, then took a tentative step onto the step stool. Sharon held it firm, whispering, “I’m not sure it’s high enough.”
“Watch me.” Niki stood on the top step and glanced at the Flemings’ house to see if it was still dark and quiet. Once that was confirmed, she grabbed the top of the fence and swung a leg over. Two horizontal crosspieces held the fence slats together on the other side. They were sturdy two-by-fours, the higher one positioned in a good place for her to rest her toe as she shimmied over the top. In a second, she’d scaled the fence and dropped to the ground on the Flemings’ yard. “Go ahead,” she said quietly. Just as planned, Sharon lifted the folded step stool and slid it over the top of the fence. Niki pulled it down, set it in place, and opened it so it would be ready for the trip back.
Quietly, she crossed the yard along the fence line, aware of every noise: a dog barking in a neighboring yard, the slight whistle of the wind, the sound of a car off in the distance. Snow came down in a powdery mist, blowing in such a way it was hard to know if it was snowing or simply blowing around. She made her way carefully, aware that every step made a footprint that betrayed her presence, but she was reassured that soon the shifting snow would cover her tracks.
The small light in the basement window was what drew her, like a moth to a flame. Close up it became apparent that this light was dimmer than she’d thought. In fact, it was amazing that she’d spotted it from her bedroom window. When she got to the house, she was disappointed to see that the basement window was made of glass block. Eight perfect squares, four on the top row, four beneath them. Solid, wavy, and impenetrable. The source of the light was stronger at this distance, but she couldn’t see what caused it or who was inside. She curled her fingers into a fist, thinking she might knock on the glass, then decided against it. What would that accomplish? Most likely she’d just scare the child, and the noise might possibly alert other family members.
No, this had been a waste of time. She turned and went back the way she’d come, staying close to the side fence until she reached the place where she’d left the step stool. Tossing the rope over the top, she whispered to Sharon, “Get ready, I’m coming over.” She waited until the rope was taut before stepping up. Coming over the fence from this side was far easier. She had the crosspiece to step on and was able to swing both legs over with ease, then a quick drop to the ground and she was done. Sharon pulled on the rope, hand over hand, until the step stool was level with the top of the fence, and then Niki stood on tiptoe to reach up and grab the handle. With a little maneuvering, they were able to get it over the top and back down on their side.
“Did you get pictures?” Sharon asked.
Niki shook her head. “Nothing to take a picture of. The basement windows are glass block.”
“Oh, too bad,” Sharon said, disappointed. “Well, at least you get credit for trying.”
They trudged silently back to the house, where Sarge waited for them behind the patio door, one paw up against the glass. It almost looked like he was waving.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Suzette paced slowly in the dark, a glass of wine in hand. Here in the comfort of her own bedroom, with all the lights off, she could drink and not be judged. She’d taken to leaving a glass and a corkscrew in the bathroom cabinet back behind her row of facial cleansers. Having them close by was ideal for those evenings when she needed alone time, something that happened more frequently when Matt was home. Tonight she was in a foul mood. Obviously Matt’s fault. Always Matt. The one member of the family she couldn’t keep in line. She could handle the boy, and Mia was a piece of cake. She could keep them in check through sheer will and stern looks.
Matt, though, was another story. It was clear he thought he was the smarter of the two of them, and then he’d actually berated her. The nerve. She took a slug of wine, emptying the glass, then poured herself another one. Her eyes had fully adjusted now, and even in the dark she could pour like a master sommelier. Take that, Matt. The bottle, which had been about two-thirds full, was getting low, and she found herself wishing she’d brought another bottle upstairs as well.
She sat down in the wing chair near the window and crossed her legs, still thinking about Matt’s tirade. Even through the warm alcohol buzz, she could hear his derisive words: You’re living in a fool’s paradise if you think we can just go on like this forever. It’s time to come clean about Mia.
Time to come clean? What was he thinking—that they’d walk into a police station with Mia and say they’d found a lost child? He was out of his mind. If the social worker had come because they were being investigated, it wasn’t an issue any longer. Per usual, Suzette had handled the situation with finesse. And even if the social worker wanted to return, Suzette had an answer for that. She just wouldn’t let her into the house, and that’s all there was to it. No warrant, no entrance. Problem solved.
It was her house, dammit, and she made the rules.
She turned her attention to the window, wondering if anyone had thought to let Griswold out. Mia seemed particularly attentive to the dog’s needs, so it was likely to have been already taken care of. Funny how the two least intelligent beings in the household had bonded. Those two could have come from the same litter, the way they’d connected, kindred spirits, each one motivated by food and praise. Like primitive soul mates. It was easier for Mia and Griswold, Suzette decided. All their needs were taken care of by others. Not a worry in the world.
Must be nice.
She’d emptied her glass and was getting up to pour herself another when something in the yard caught her eye. It was dark outside, but not pitch-black. There was a partial moon overhead, and the neighbors to one side had their back porch light on. And the streetlights beyond provided some illumination through the row of houses. Still, it wasn’t easy to figure out what she was seeing. She got out of the chair and went right to the window.
Movement. Someone was in her yard, walking along the side fence. She narrowed her eyes. Jacob? No, the person was slimmer and moved more nimbly. It wasn’t Matt either, as far as she could tell. Her heart quickened. She wondered if she should yell down to Matt and let him know someone was outside. Or should she call the police? The person came closer as Suzette watched, and then they were so near to the back of the house that she didn’t see them anymore. Were they going to break in? Her cell phone, she suddenly remembered, was on the kitchen counter charging. S
he could yell down the stairs to Matt, but she really hated that idea. After so much wine she’d be certain to slur her words, and wouldn’t he love that?
Let him deal with a burglar breaking into the house. She hoped there was a struggle and that Matt wound up on the wrong end of a knife. That would teach him to talk disparagingly to her.
The intruder came into view once again, walking to the back of the property along the fence line, then climbing up over the fence so quickly that it was like watching a gymnast do a routine. A second later, something bulky rose up over the fence and was pulled over the top and out of sight. A ladder? It had to have been.
Why would someone be in their yard? She downed the last bit in her wineglass, then left the room and went down the hall, passing Jacob’s room. She saw the light under his door, but it was completely quiet. Doing his homework, she hoped, but more likely playing a game. Oh well, not my problem. She continued on, heading down the stairs. After leaving her wineglass in the kitchen sink, she went into the living room to confront Matt, who was watching a crime show on television. Typical. “Did you know someone was just in our backyard? I saw them from the bedroom window.”
He kept his eyes on the screen. “It was probably Jacob letting the dog out. Or maybe you just imagined it.”
Maybe she just imagined it? A reference to her drinking. Rude. “Wrong,” she said. “Jacob is in his room, so it wasn’t him. I definitely saw someone walking through our yard, and then they climbed the back fence to leave.”
“Huh,” he said. “I haven’t heard anything. It was probably some kid. One of Jacob’s friends from school screwing around.” He yawned.
“Jacob doesn’t have any friends.”
“Now you’re just being mean. So unnecessary, Suzette.”
She swore he did this kind of thing to make her crazy. “Someone climbing a six-foot fence and walking around on our property doesn’t bother you? They could be casing the house to break in later.”
“Doubtful.” He picked up the remote and began flipping through the channels. “If you’re really worried, we can keep the outdoor lights on all night.”
“I keep telling you we need a security system.”
“Yes, and I told you that if you want a security system, you should make some calls and get some estimates. I can’t do everything, Suzette.”
When he started in with this kind of unproductive, antagonistic talk, she found it best just to walk away. There wasn’t enough time in the world to get baited with this nonsense. Besides, the wine was making her head swim, and she needed some silence to think this through. Jacob had been in his room, so he wasn’t going to be any help.
Obviously she was once again on her own. She went to the front hall closet and put on her winter boots, then pulled on her coat and gloves before getting a small flashlight from the junk drawer in the kitchen. In the back of the house, she flipped on the back porch light before going outside.
The severe cold caught her off guard, nipping at her cheeks and whipping her hair. Her breath fogged out in the wintry air. The cold slapped away the warm buzz of the wine. Being outside in this weather irritated her. This was a job for Matt or Jacob, but Matt wasn’t willing to help her, and Jacob probably wouldn’t do it correctly. Useless. They are both useless.
She walked to the back fence where she’d seen the ladder being retrieved, but there was nothing there, not even tracks in the snow. The powdery dusting of snow whipping around was obscuring the evidence. She shone the flashlight’s beam onto the fence slats, scanning for places where the wood may have been nicked, but didn’t see anything out of the ordinary. She turned and retraced the intruder’s steps, walking along the fence line, the flashlight leading the way.
As she got closer to the house, she saw impressions in the snow that may or may not have been footprints. They weren’t clearly defined, and with each passing minute there was less to see. She got to the house and looked up at her window. This had been a blind spot from her angle upstairs in the bedroom, the place where the person had paused before turning around. Her attention was drawn to the basement window, the one leading to Mia’s room. The little brat was watching TV down there, which wasn’t particularly shocking. Suzette didn’t care what she did at night, as long as she was rested enough to get her chores done.
The alarming part was a fleeting thought that whoever was in the yard had focused on that window because they’d suspected Mia was down there. Thank goodness the window was glass block.
When she got inside, wet and frustrated, emotions began to build. She was indignant that someone had trespassed on their property, irritated at Matt’s refusal to take her concerns seriously, and aggravated at having to go outside in the freezing cold to investigate. The more she thought about it, the angrier she became.
Suzette shook off her snow-covered coat and gloves and dropped them on the mat by the back door. Next she stepped out of her boots, then went down the basement stairs to fetch Mia. Someone had to clean up the wet clothes, and it wasn’t going to be her.
When she got to the far end of the basement, she was puzzled to discover that the lock on Mia’s bookcase had never been secured. Jacob had obviously screwed up. Pulling the bookcase toward her revealed Mia sitting cross-legged on her cot watching TV and eating something that looked like a cupcake. Mia’s shock at the sight of Ma’am’s face was priceless. She lowered the cupcake to her side, as if that would help.
“Mia?” Suzette said sternly. “What do you have in your hand?”
Mia raised her left hand, showing it was empty.
“The other hand.” Suzette hated the way her voice sounded, so coarse and raw. She absolutely hated it. Why was she always put in the role of the ogre? She didn’t want to have to enforce the rules, but someone had to. From the outside her life looked like a dream, but in reality it was actually very trying. Sometimes thinking about everything she had to keep track of gave her a raging headache.
Mia raised the other hand, the one holding a cupcake wrapped in a napkin.
“Are you supposed to be eating in your room?”
Mia shook her head.
“Answer me, dammit! Use your words!” Suzette knew she was just on the verge of losing it, something that infuriated her. She prided herself on being in control and wasn’t going to let a disobedient child take that from her. She drew in a sharp breath and through gritted teeth said, “I’ll ask you one more time. Are you supposed to be eating in your room?”
Mia’s eyes welled up with tears. “No, Ma’am.”
“So you knew you weren’t supposed to be eating in your room, but you did it anyway. Is that right?”
Mia started to nod, but then forced out a “Yes, Ma’am.”
“Why, Mia, why would you do that when you know it’s not allowed?” Suzette wanted to grab hold of her shoulders and shake her until she was limp, but admirably she held back. “Why?”
Her chin dropped down, and she mumbled, “Don’t know.”
“Do you think I’m stupid? Did you think I wouldn’t find out?”
“No, Ma’am.”
“Give it to me.” Suzette held out her hand, and Mia gave her the cupcake. “Well, what do you know. A Hostess CupCake. Did you get this from Jacob?”
Mia hesitated, and now tears streamed down her face.
“Answer me! Did you get this from Jacob?”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
“Come with me.” Grabbing Mia’s arm, she pulled her off the bed, then dragged her up the stairs. On the first floor, she paused at the bottom of the stairs leading to the second floor and screamed, “Jacob, get down here right now!” then continued on to the living room, pulling Mia along with her. She was ready to give Matt a good talking-to, and this time she wasn’t going to let him brush her aside.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Jacob had his headphones on and was, for once, deep into doing his homework. His English teacher had assigned the class personal essays, with an emphasis on the personal. Mrs. Rathman had suggeste
d a few topics: detailing what defined them as individuals, writing about an event that changed their life, or telling a tale of overcoming a hardship. Jacob was at a loss to come up with any of these things, so his essay was completely fictitious, the story of the time spent fishing with Great-Uncle Stevie and all the wisdom the older man had imparted to him shortly before his unexpected death from a heart attack right after they’d returned the boat to the rental place. Since he wasn’t constrained by the truth, Jacob was able to really get into it, embellishing the story with emotive details sure to bring a tear to Mrs. Rathman’s eyes. If his test grades weren’t going to be a selling point, he might as well write a killer essay.
He was interrupted when the door swung open and he saw Mia standing in the hallway, a hesitant expression on her face. Taking off his headphones, he said, “Yes?”
“Ma’am wants you to come downstairs.” From the way she said it, he knew he wasn’t being summoned for something good. And because his mother had sent Mia, it was likely she had tried yelling for him but he hadn’t heard her, which meant she was already infuriated. Anyone not responding to her demands made her crazy.
“Am I in trouble?” he asked.
She nodded.
“What for?”
“The cupcake. I’m sorry, Jacob.” Her lower lip trembled in a way that made him both sympathetic to Mia and angry with his mother.
“Don’t worry about it, Mia. It’s not your fault. I’ll take the blame.”
Mia went ahead and led him downstairs and into the living room, where his father sat on the couch, his legs stretched out on the coffee table. His mother, meanwhile, stood in front of the picture window, a cupcake in her hand. Her posture was relaxed, but she had the crazy-eyed look Jacob had come to dread.
“Mia said you wanted me?” he asked casually, taking a seat next to his father. Mia, not knowing where to go, stood near the doorway.
The Moonlight Child Page 19
