by Lucy Farago
She got out of the car, her shoes crunching on the stone driveway leading up to Wilbur’s, the old guy who used to run the place. Maggie had learned he’d packed it up and moved to Florida with his daughter. She opened the screen door, but no one was inside. The park was quiet, people either in church or hung over from the night before. It was like that here: the good and those that didn’t give a shit.
Her mother no longer lived in the trailer park. Years earlier, Shannon had arranged to move her to a complex in a great community just outside of Boston. There were nurses on staff and they would report back to Mrs. Hopewell should her mom go off her meds. Even the money she wired for her care went through Maggie’s mom. Emma Lewis lived in her own little world, one with JJ still in it. Shannon had no idea why the son of a bitch hadn’t left the poor woman alone.
Occasionally, Shannon tried to make her understand JJ was poison, but either because of the medication or something else, she wouldn’t or couldn’t see it. And getting upset served no purpose. Besides not being able to see her daughter, her mom saw life through a rose-colored kaleidoscope. Calling only served to agitate her. Except for paying the bills, Shannon cut ties.
As a kid, she’d seen her mother off her medication more than once. Shannon hadn’t realized the severity of her mother’s disease until the first time she’d gone off them. The doctors believed drug use in her teens played a part; there was no history of mental illness in the family. But whatever the reason, the woman had to stay medicated or risk another psychotic episode. And JJ understood only too well that prescription drugs required money. Now, with the man dead, Shannon guessed she could finally visit. It was an odd feeling, like a prison term at last over and done with.
The three trailers to her right she didn’t recognize. Either her neighbors had moved on or passed on. Mrs. Miller was eighty when she lived here, and Mr. Sicero well into his seventies. He used to give her caramels. Shannon always had her suspicions about those two. Had they found happiness with each other? She hoped so.
At the end of the long path and to the left was the dump where she’d grown up. Someone had given it a fresh coat of paint and it looked as if an attempt at landscaping was on its way. She assumed her mother’d had the common sense to sell their trailer. It had been the one detail of their life together Shannon wanted no part of. Next to it was old man Bench’s place. Did he still live here? To a kid, he’d been a crazy fart who never bathed but was always there to make her smile.
On an old milk crate a few feet from the front door sat a little blond kid with curls bigger than her head. In her hands was a dirty rag doll, by her feet a carriage that had seen better days. On hearing footsteps, big brown eyes shot up. She visibly relaxed when she saw Shannon, then returned to playing with her doll. Who had she been expecting?
“Hi,” Shannon said.
The child didn’t answer but instead began to quietly hum … as if purposely shutting her out. Struck by an odd sense of déjà vu, Shannon shivered. The kid couldn’t be more than seven, eight tops. Perhaps she should go back before she freaked the tyke out.
She really had no interest in seeing the trailer. The memories she had of it weren’t worth reminiscing about. And maybe the little girl and the stupid song reminded her of when she’d sat out here, alone, playing with whatever new toy JJ had bribed her with. Honestly, it might have been the echoes of the countless unheard wishes, whispered by a girl who desperately wanted to escape, but whatever it was, Shannon found herself knocking on the front door.
When she got no answer, she knocked again, not surprised but still disappointed no one was home. Not for herself, but for the little girl, sitting alone. She turned to find the kid staring at her. “Hey, is your mom home? Maybe she’s sleeping?” It was Sunday, although she doubted whoever lived here was a nine-to-five, weekends-off kind of person.
The little girl shook her head, exactly as expected. You didn’t leave children this young alone, but if you couldn’t afford a sitter or there was none, you didn’t have much of a choice if you wanted to feed them. Hopefully that would be the worst of it. She grabbed the second milk crate and sat near but not close enough to frighten her. “I’m Shannon. I used to live here.”
She didn’t appear skittish, which meant she was used to being left alone and probably had a strong independent streak. She’d need one.
“I’m Leah and I’m not supposed to talk to strangers.”
“True enough. But I bet you’re not supposed to be out here either.”
Leah shrugged her tiny shoulders. “No one ever comes around in the mornings. You’re not going to tell my mom, are you?” she asked, suddenly panicked.
“I don’t know who she is. So,” she indicated the trailer twenty yards away, “who lives in that one? When I was a kid it was Mr. Bench.” Then she lowered her voice. “We used to call him Mr. Stench, on account of he stank.”
Leah giggled. “I guess not anymore.”
“Wow, no kidding? And he still lives here?” The man could never remember her name or which trailer was hers so there was no chance he’d place her now.
“He told me he got married last year and she makes him take a bath. They went to church this morning. She’s a nice old lady. I get to have lunch with them today.”
“They watch you when your mom works?” She recalled Mr. Stench used to help her mom too, but the guy made it hard to eat Cheerios when garbage smelled better.
Leah nodded. “I’m supposed to stay in the trailer when they’re out and Momma’s working. You’re not going to tell?”
“No. But why don’t you go watch TV or something?”
“It broke when we moved here. Momma says maybe next month we’ll get a new one. When her check comes.”
Shannon had noticed a satellite dish on the trailer. TV was a luxury item but at the same time a necessity when no babysitter could be found. “Where does she work?”
“You said you weren’t going to tell her,” she said, once again nervous.
“And I won’t. I’m just making small talk. I live in Las Vegas. You ever heard of Vegas?”
“No. I live here now. Momma works at Captain Tony’s. She’s a waitress, but on Sunday she cooks. On account of the captain being sick on Sundays.”
“Every Sunday?”
“So far. She’s supposed to work every Sunday.”
“No, I mean he’s sick every Sunday?” That was weird.
Leah nodded, her curls bobbing up and down. “That’s what Momma says. A bottle makes him sick. But I don’t know why he doesn’t throw it away if it keeps making him sick.”
Either Leah didn’t understand what her mother meant or she understood only too well. “Silly man.”
Leah agreed with another bob of her curls. “Want to see my doll?” she asked, thrusting it out. “I just got it.”
Shannon took the well-loved doll, gently cradling it in her hands. “What’s her name?”
“Samantha Ashley Denise.”
“That’s a mouthful.”
“Mr. Bench gave her to me. He said the doll was sad and needed a friend. But sad isn’t a nice name for a doll, so I changed it. She’s not sad anymore.”
Sad? Ah, Samantha Ashley Denise. Smart kid. “I see. Well, you did good.”
“Yup. He said the little girl who used to own her didn’t want Sad anymore. So Mr. Bench saved her for someone who did. He said if I gave her a good home maybe the other little girl would be happy too.”
Shannon glanced at the doll in her hands and did a double take. No way. It was a rag doll like any other, made by the thousands. It couldn’t be hers. Why would he keep it? Had her mother left it behind in the trailer when she’d moved? She lifted the tiny dress, and there around the sewn belly button was the ink heart Shannon had drawn. She handed the doll back to Leah. “I bet you he was right, especially if you’ve taken really good care of her.”
“I have.”
And here she’d thought she’d been so clever, hiding her misery for no one except Maggie to
see. She guessed the crazy old coot wasn’t so crazy after all. Had he known what JJ was making her do? She and her mom would go through periods when her mother’s assistance barely fed them. Then JJ would show up and take Shannon on a “trip.” She’d return to a fully stocked trailer and new toys in her room. As she got older and the cons more elaborate, JJ would buy her fashionable clothes, jewelry even. On occasion he’d given her a loaded credit card for groceries and anything else they’d need. Bribes, payment, insuring her silence, call it what you like. Shannon knew it for what it was—blackmail. Help him or she and her mother would starve and who knew what else.
The sound of two people arguing stopped her miserable walk down memory lane.
“It’s Mr. and Mrs. Bench,” Leah whispered conspiratorially. “Momma says they argue after church. I gotta stop them. Momma says God doesn’t like fighting.” Then the little girl ran down the tree-lined path to meet up with the Benches.
Shannon took off in the opposite direction. If he’d kept her doll, he might remember her. Clearly she’d read him wrong and he’d been aware of more than she’d figured. She dashed off into the bushes just as she heard, “God don’t give a hoot if I’m gassy in church. Get off my back, woman.”
She managed to make it back to her car without being seen. As it was too cool for swimming, Shannon headed to the old quarry, certain she’d be alone. From town it was a thirty-five-minute walk, from her trailer park fifteen, and just down the street from the cemetery. On a hot summer day it had felt like forever. On occasion they’d been able to convince one of the older boys to drive them as long as they promised not to tell Reverend Hopewell about the drinking and make-out sessions. Her mother hadn’t been fond of the quarry for her own reasons. She herself couldn’t swim and feared her only daughter would drown.
Shannon parked in the lot where they’d once kept machinery. The pit hadn’t seen dump trucks for at least thirty years, but the rain had made one very cool swimming hole. She got out and walked the rest of the way. The empty beer cans along the path told her kids still used the place to do what kids did behind their parents’ back. She sat down on one of the larger boulders just as four ducks flew in for a dip. As they swam, occasionally dipping their bills into the water, she was reminded of all the times she and Maggie had swum here … and Noah of course. Maggie had been a good sport about him tagging along. Then there was the time she and Noah had been alone.
Damn; she hadn’t come to reminisce. It was ancient history. They’d changed on so many levels she couldn’t fathom it. She was no longer JJ Lewis’s daughter, the girl everyone thought wasn’t good enough for the town’s golden boy. And he … he was an ass.
To think she’d considered herself the luckiest girl on the planet. The richest, smartest, and best-looking boy in school wanted her. He’d fallen in love with her. Well, as much as a teenager was capable of love. He’d been so perfect. Even his family hadn’t shunned her. Not to her face anyway. It had killed her to leave him behind. But what was she supposed to do? Ask him to run away with her? To give up the education his parents had planned, the future everyone knew was bright and full of opportunity?
She didn’t know if he was happy or whether he loved his career, but it didn’t matter. It might have been fun for a while, but Noah had a family, one that loved him. He couldn’t cut ties with them, nor could she ask that they keep her secret without revealing why she didn’t want JJ to find her. He may think her a selfish bitch—and part of her was—but Noah was better off without her. She’d told herself that for years. And kept telling herself every time she thought of him.
“What’s got you so deep in thought?”
Shannon jumped off the rock, her hand flying to her heart.
Chapter Eight
“Damn, Noah, blackmail isn’t enough for you? You have to scare me to death too? Put a bullet in my head and get it over with.”
Noah watched as Shannon sat back down, curious as to why she’d come up here.
“Sorry … and I’m not blackmailing you.” Under federal law he could use trickery or deceit in his investigation, but he really wanted her to stop thinking of it as blackmail.
“What else would you call it?”
“I like to think of it as you making amends,” he argued. It had been the reason he’d given himself on the plane to Vegas. Shannon would help because she’d know it was the right thing to do.
“You see, I’ve hung around Maggie, the sainted mother, enough to know that if someone is forced into making amends, it’s not true restitution from the heart. It’s more like a prison term.”
“It’s better than going to prison.” It was a dumb thing to say. And if he didn’t stop thinking like a fed, he’d get nowhere with her. He took a seat beside her.
She’d have moved over except there wasn’t anywhere to go. “You’ve got nothing on me. And you know it.”
“JJ could’ve destroyed your career,” he countered. What the hell was wrong with him? Did he need to defend what he’d done so much that he was willing to antagonize her now?
“You’re right. He could’ve, but the file I had on him seemed to convince him to back off. So I didn’t need to ensure his silence. Why are you here?”
Good. He wanted to drop the topic of how he’d gotten her cooperation. “I thought we should talk. Before tonight.” He offered her the bottle of water in his hands.
“No, thanks,” Shannon said with enough vehemence that Noah was second-guessing following her.
She was still mad, but he didn’t want her thinking he’d pulled her into this as some sort of personal vendetta. He hadn’t. Plus, closure over what had happened thirteen years ago, mostly her leaving him without so much as a note, would finally put an end to any lasting feelings, bad ones.
“We went over what you expect me to do. I didn’t screw up with Molly and Luther, did I? I won’t mess up tonight.”
“I’m not worried about tonight.” He was worried. He was taking her into a potentially dangerous situation, but as long they followed the script, Santos would either take the bait or blow them off.
“Then what? You’d better be keeping your word. After dinner I expect to be on a plane home. And find a way to detain JJ’s body. No way I’m attending his funeral.”
“I’ll see what I can do,” he said, bracing for impact. “But the earliest flight I could get was early evening tomorrow.”
She didn’t say anything, which he guessed was far better than expected.
“Fine, tomorrow.” She got up. “See you tonight at six.”
“Wait. We haven’t talked.”
She blew out a loud breath. “If it makes you happy to go over it again,” she said, “go ahead.”
“No, Shannon, this isn’t about tonight. It’s about us.”
“Which us?” she asked, her expression neutral as she folded her arms. “The us whose childhood … thing you dismissed in less time than it took you to blink? Or the new us where you threatened to ruin my reputation if I didn’t help you? Because I think our newfound relationship puts that thing so far into the past that it’s void. And I hardly think that the ruining of my reputation thing qualifies as an us. I’m going to say we have nothing to discuss.”
She started to walk away.
“You ripped my heart out,” he said before he lost his nerve.
Shannon stopped, her shoulders stiffening.
“You ran away,” he continued. “You left me wondering why the hell I didn’t merit a good-bye. I loved you. I thought you loved me too. To know it wasn’t true pissed me off. I want to know why. Why, Shannon?”
Slowly, she turned. “You know why I left.”
“Mr. Polanski? Yeah. I get that. But they didn’t know you were a part of JJ’s scam.”
“I did,” she said, raising her voice. “I did,” she repeated, her tone regretful. “I couldn’t stay in the same town as his family, knowing I was to blame for his suicide.” She averted his eyes.
“JJ was to blame.”
�
�I knew about JJ’s scam.”
“And what did he threaten you with if you told?”
“It doesn’t matter. I shouldn’t have agreed to help him.” She looked up and what he saw broke his heart. Shannon never cried, but those were unshed tears in her eyes.
He was a such a dumb fuck.
“I saw him, Noah.”
“Who?”
“Mr. Polanski.”
“I don’t understand.”
“He came into the bogus office JJ had set up in Boston. I was working the front desk, doing the calls, the usual bullshit. No one was supposed to recognize me. JJ promised, a week of my time and I could go home. He needed staff to make the whole thing look real. Buyers were coming in from the city. No one in Tweedsmuir had that kind of money except your parents. And your dad was no fool.”
“But Polanski had bought in and he’d come down?” He’d known the old man had invested after the fact, but Shannon never told him about the visit or how she’d come to learn of the investment. Only that when she came home, she’d gotten hold of a gun.
Shannon nodded. “JJ promised outlandish returns for their initial ten thousand if they in turn promised not to cash in their cash-life insurance policies for five years. By then, he’d be long gone and they’d have nothing. But I overheard him with my father. He said something had happened and he urgently needed the money back.”
“And JJ wouldn’t return the money?”
“No. Mr. Polanski sounded so desperate, but JJ, being JJ, convinced him that in five years the policy would be worth ten times his initial investment. When I saw him again I had to tell him it was a part-time job, but it wasn’t working out so I was leaving. I didn’t know what else to say. That lie … That lie came out of my mouth like a practiced con man’s. I should have warned him right there, but I couldn’t get him alone. I could hear JJ’s preaching in my head. ‘There’s a sucker born every minute.’ And ‘no one forces them to invest, to want something for little or no work.’ On some level I always knew he was wrong, but until Mr. P the faces were blank. I didn’t want to be like JJ. I was going home to tell Mr. P to pull out before it was too late. That night I told JJ I was out. I was old enough to earn enough money to feed Mom and me and that’s all that counted.”
