“You think my ass is hairy?”
Jillian sighed and tried not to roll her eyes. “I don’t think so, Heather does. And I know it isn’t skinny. It’s tight and muscular.” After all that was going on, he was worried she wouldn’t like his ass? Heather was right about one thing, men were all babies.
Adam pulled on his pants and sat near the end of the bed. “Okay, I’m listening.”
“You drink way too much beer. You have thirteen empties in the trash. You told me you watch what you eat, but apparently you just watch it go down because all you have in the freezer is Mexican and Hungry Man TV dinners. Oh, yeah, the one Healthy Choice left over from the previous administration doesn’t count if you don’t actually eat it.”
He had that look in his eyes, but she kept going before he could say anything to stop her. “You must work out a lot because of all the different sports creams you’ve collected. That ancient bottle of antibiotics is probably expired by now and you’re supposed to take them all, not save two for another day. And I’m going to assume your hemorrhoids are better since the tube is all dried out. This one’s my favorite. You have a picture in your bottom sweater drawer of a wife you neglected to mention.”
Adam’s jaw dropped as he stared at her. He made several false starts before he was able to speak. “Is that what this is about? I didn’t tell you I was divorced? I should have told you right away. I know that and I’m sorry. It wasn’t that I was trying to hide it.” He stopped and started again. “I guess I was trying to hide it because it makes me feel like a failure. I hate to load all my old baggage on you.”
She reached over and squeezed his hands. “I don’t care that you were married before, as long as you’re not married now. I do think you should have told me, but I’m not worried about your baggage. Lord knows, I’ve got steamer trunks of it myself. I kind of kept a few things from you.”
They sat, side by side, on the edge of the bed. Jillian could almost imagine what he was thinking. She’d been through it before whenever she tried to tell someone.
“You said you had a lot of guilt about killing her. What if I could prove to you that you didn’t kill her?”
Heather came back to the door of the bedroom. “Don’t listen to him, Jillie. He’s trying to mess with your head.”
Jillian didn’t answer, so he continued. “You were unconscious, lying on the floor with a big knot on your head when your parents got home. Heather was still alive, but barely. She was able to speak to your mother before she died. She did blame you. She said you got the box out and were playing with the gun when she came into the room. She claimed she pushed you to get the gun out of your hands and it went off.”
“That’s almost what happened, except she’s the one who took the gun out and started playing with it. She didn’t usually misbehave, that was my job. Why should she? She got everything she wanted. This time she was angry. I’d been sick and she might have to miss her pageant. I think the points added up till the end of the year, so missing one was a big deal.”
A tear crept down Jillian’s face. “I hate that my parents spent all those years thinking I got the gun out.”
He angled his head closer. “But that’s not what happened, don’t you see? You were unconscious, so they couldn’t ask you. Then later, you didn’t talk at all for several months. So they tested everything. The gun needed more pressure to pull the trigger than a six-year-old could manage, especially one who had been running a high fever with vomiting and diarrhea for two days.”
“But Heather pulled on it. She was strong enough.”
“No, you would have had to hold on, and you couldn’t have. Even if you had used two hands, you probably couldn’t have done it. And they know you didn’t use two hands because you only touched the gun with your right hand. Also, you didn’t touch the toggle or have any gunshot residue on you at all, but Heather did. Your fingerprints weren’t on the box, either, just Heather’s.”
Jillian couldn’t sit still, but there was glass everywhere. She threw a pillow on the floor, stood on it, reached for her shoes and shook the glass out of them. “So what exactly do they think happened?”
“Heather got the gun out and was looking at it. You came in and wanted to see it. You must have tried to pick it up and she pushed you. You fell off the bed and got a concussion. Heather heard your parents coming and tried to put the gun back in the box hurriedly. When it wouldn’t go in, she jammed it and the toggle hung on something. She probably tried to force it and the gun went off. You didn’t have anything to do with it. In fact, sick as you were, you should have been in the hospital, not being treated with Pepto-Bismol and chicken soup.”
“All these years she’s been blaming me, and I didn’t have anything to do with it?” Her blood turned to ice.
“Now maybe you can let it go.”
She turned back to face him. “Do you know the last thing she said to me? She leaned over me and the awful perfume she always wore filled my nose. She whispered in that mean voice she used when Mama wasn’t near, ‘This is all your fault. I’ll make you pay for this.’ And believe me, for the last twenty-six years, she’s kept her promise.”
Adam reached over to the nightstand and put on his glasses, but didn’t answer.
“How do you know these things? Were you checking up on me?”
He took a step onto the pillow and then one closer toward the door where there wasn’t any glass. “It was on the first day, when I learned you once had possession of the gun. Not after we started seeing each other. I wouldn’t do a thing like that.” He reached for her arm, but she pulled away.
“I can’t believe Heather did that to me for all those years.” She looked around the room. Her skin felt hot, like it didn’t belong to her. “Heather! Heather! Where are you, you lying scum?”
For one second, the house was totally silent, then Rover let out a horrendous screech. Jillian stood rooted to the spot, her eyes wide with fear. “Oh, no. Oh, no. Oh, no,” she moaned as she ran for the kitchen, Adam immediately behind her.
The kitchen was just as they left it. Rover’s food bowl and water dish were undisturbed and he was nowhere in sight, until they went behind the center island. He lay on the floor with his neck at an unnatural angle, not breathing. Adam grabbed him and started CPR, but his head hung limply.
Adam swallowed deeply several times and cleared his throat while he held the old cat gently.
“Oh, Adam, I’m so sorry. I never suspected she would do a thing like this.” Her voice broke.
“Come on, Jillian. He was old and sick. He liked to sleep on the island and he fell off. That’s all it is.” His voice didn’t sound too steady either. His head drooped so low, she couldn’t see his face, and his breath was uneven.
“I’m going to head home now, Adam. But I want you to think about the things I’ve said. And I need you to remember something. Heather’s dangerous. The things she’s done to you so far——hiding your wallet, breaking your deck post, fixing your car so it wouldn’t start——they were just to make you look bad in front of me. Now she’s angry, and she might actually try to hurt you. She’s hurt other people.”
Adam opened the door to the laundry room and took out a towel. He wrapped Rover in the towel and laid him on the dryer before closing the door again. “If she’s a spirit, how can she do these things?”
Jillian sighed. He was still trying to convince her with logic. “Mostly she preys on weak people——those who drink too much, do drugs, or aren’t terribly bright——and whispers in their ear. Tells them how bad their life is or suggests someone is out to get them. She encouraged my mother, my father, and Billy to kill themselves. I know you think you’ve solved your murder cases, but her fingerprints are all over them.”
He folded his arms and squared his shoulders. “I like to think I have a pretty strong character, Jillian. I’m not going to do anything foolish.”
“You slept with me while I was a suspect in a couple of murders. That doesn’t sound too strong.”
Embarrassment flickered across his face for an instant and then was gone. “That still doesn’t explain how you think she killed Rover or broke the mirror.”
Her knees trembled so she went back to the living room and sat on the sofa. “She can exert some amount of force. She probably pulled on the mirror and the added weight was enough to make it fall. You can be driving along and something will make you think, ‘Look at that beautiful sunset.’ And while you’re looking, she’ll tug on the wheel and a truck will appear out of nowhere. Why were you leaning over the rail on your deck? Did something catch your eye?”
“A woodpecker. I wanted to get a better look at him.”
It wasn’t enough to make him believe, but at least he was talking about it.
“Animals, especially cats, seem to be more aware of her. Anything that notices her gives her more strength. She hates cats. So, yes, I think she probably had enough strength to do that to Rover.”
Adam stepped into the kitchen and returned with two beers. “Okay, tell me how many fingers I’m holding behind my back.”
“It doesn’t work that way. Heather can’t be trusted. She left after her temper tantrum, but even if she were still here, she would lie to make you doubt me. She might have lied about what I’ve told you already, but I don’t think so. She was doing her best to make you look bad.”
Jillian took her beer and kept talking. “I said weak people were more likely to notice her, but that’s not always true. Very strong people are also likely to be aware of her. I think Mamacita sensed her. She’s a woman of deep faith. If you can trust in angels or the Holy Ghost, then you have to be willing to accept other things.”
She put her beer bottle on the coffee table untouched. “I’m going now, but I want you to promise me you’ll keep an open mind and think about what I’ve said. And be careful. I’m afraid she’ll try to get even by hurting you.”
“I don’t like the idea of you driving home while you’re this upset. Why don’t you stay the night? You can sleep in the guest room. Then in the morning you can head home or stay and we’ll talk some more.”
“We both have a lot of thinking to do, Adam, and we need to be alone to do it. Call me when you’re ready to talk, or don’t call and that will say everything I need to know.”
She kissed him gently and started home. She knew Heather wasn’t to be trusted, yet she’d worn blinders, hoping nothing would happen. Her throat constricted and tears pricked the backs of her eyes. Rover’s death was her fault as much as Heather’s. She didn’t deserve to have him call.
After Jillian left, Adam stayed on the sofa and drank his beer. He didn’t want to think about Ruben’s warning that there was something wrong with Jillian. Or his own refusal to listen. What did she have to gain by making up such an outrageous story? Was everything she’d said since they’d met a lie?
He’d come so close to having everything he didn’t even know he’d wanted. Now it had all been snatched away at once. His head swirled. It was too much to take in at one time.
Too restless to sit still, he took a shovel from the backyard tool shed. He found a spot under the big fig tree where Rover often napped and began to dig. When the hole looked deep enough, he stopped. Then he remembered how large Rover had become and dug a little deeper.
In the house, he ran his hand over the old cat’s fur one last time before wrapping him tightly in the towel. Fighting back tears, he cradled the bundle like a newborn child, and carried it to the fig tree. He knelt, and gently placed Rover in the hole, then filled it in, tamping it down firmly.
“Goodbye, old cat,” he sighed. “You were a good friend, and I’ll miss you. Wherever you are, I hope you’re chasing squirrels and lady cats.”
He went back inside, washed his hands, and reached for another beer. Jillian’s perfume lingered in the air. It was unlike her to wear something so heavy. He appreciated that she had tried to dress up for him, but it reminded him of Mai. Maybe he could buy her something lighter. No, not much need for that now.
She was right about one thing, though. He was drinking too much beer. As he put it back in the fridge, he reached for the trash can. There were three empties inside, not thirteen. So much for her first prediction.
The bedroom was unusable, and he was too tired to begin cleaning. He decided to sleep in the guestroom, although climbing the stairs sapped the last of his strength. The bed didn’t have any sheets, so he laid down on one side of the spread and pulled the other half over his legs. His exhaustion was as much mental as physical, and sleep didn’t come easily. A bad end to a day that had held so much promise.
*
Adam stood in the door to his room and surveyed the damage. A lone ray of early morning sunshine stole between the drapery panels causing shards of glass to cover the room in tiny rainbows. Like a giant had been playing marbles with the finest crystals.
He reached in as far as he could, snagged his shoes, and shook them out. A piece of glass must have hung on the insole because it cut his foot when he tried to slip them on. Wonderful. Now I can limp on both feet.”
It took several hours to clean the mess, and he knew he’d be finding slivers of glass the hard way for weeks to come. The sheets were in the washer and the spread was set out to go to the cleaners when he carried an overflowing bag of glass shards and broken picture frames to the garbage cans outside. As he took the lid off, he stopped and looked inside.
Two bags already filled the can. He lifted one in each hand and carried them inside. After spreading newspaper on the kitchen floor, he untied the bags and emptied them. The first held six beer bottles and the second held four. Adding the three from the kitchen, he had thirteen empties. He stood and stared at the bottles while his brain ran in circles. She guessed, that’s all.
He re-tied the bags and returned them to the trash can outside before going into his bathroom. Behind the tubes of sports cream was an old bottle of antibiotic with two pills remaining. “Okay,” he yelled. “But I’ve never had hemorrhoids in my life.” The sound echoed, but house didn’t answer.
There was no need to check his sweater drawer. The picture of his ex-wife was there. Only one place left to look. He opened the freezer door and took out all the frozen dinners. In the back corner, under a sheet of ice, was an old Healthy Choice dinner. Where did that come from? He didn’t remember buying it. He chipped it out of the ice and threw it away.
She didn’t guess about that.
Without bothering to return the dinners to the freezer, he turned to look at the cat door. Getting down on his knees, he stuck his head through the opening. It fit, but his shoulders hung on the rim. He tried putting one arm and shoulder through and almost got stuck. He stood and studied it again, visualizing Jillian’s body. You’re smaller than me, but not nearly that small.
Next, he went outside and looked at the lock. It was old and worn, but he didn’t see any signs it had been picked or forced. A key was hidden in the tool shed, but how much time would she have had to look?
When he’d left her on Friday, she was sitting in Starbucks drinking coffee. He had gone back to the office and worked forty-five minutes. If she had dropped her coffee in the trash and run like hell the minute he left, she still had to go by the drugstore and print the photos. She’d obviously spent time on them. He’d been a policeman for many years and knew how to hide a key so it wasn’t easily found.
In the tool shed, he moved the fertilizer spreader and looked for his extra key. It was exactly where he’d left it, covered with dirt and a few grains of fertilizer. It either hadn’t been moved or she was more devious than he could have imagined.
As he stood looking at the key, the contents of the tool shed began to tip his direction. Every hoe, rake, broom and shovel fell on him, knocking him to the ground. A large pair of clippers stuck in the grass, inches from his face.
Adam’s side gate squealed as it swung open and a voice called out, “Hey, neighbor, are you back here? I heard a lot of commotion and wondered what y
ou were doing.”
“Hi, Chester. I had an accident with the tool shed.”
“Shit! That could have been bad.” He shook the tool shed and turned back to Adam. “I think this thing’s a little wobbly. Probably roots making the ground uneven. You ought to put some cement blocks under it for safety.”
He helped Adam to his feet, and they piled the lawn equipment back in the shed. When Chester saw the mound of dirt under the tree, he stopped. “What’ve you been digging? You didn’t plant something there, did you? I don’t think it’ll get enough sun.”
“No. That’s Rover. He didn’t make it. I guess he’s chased your dog for the last time.” Adam raked a hand through his hair and stared at the grave. His chest was heavy and he seemed to have forgotten how to breathe. Some part of him had still hoped losing Rover was just a bad dream.
Chester hitched up his pants. He had undergone lap-band surgery a year before and lost almost a hundred pounds. He’d bought new clothes periodically, but not lately. The ones he had on looked as if he were waiting to lose more weight or gain some back. “Man, I’m sorry to hear that. I liked that old cat. He didn’t take shit from anyone.”
“That’s true. I think he owned me instead of the other way around.” Adam struggled to keep his voice neutral.
“I’ll tell Martha, but she might not be as upset as we are. She thinks her little dog hung the moon. Whenever Muffin would take out after Rover and then Rover would turn and chase her, Martha would get all upset, but I secretly rooted for the cat.”
They stood, silently remembering Rover’s antics. “I came over to apologize for the other night. I didn’t know you had company or I’d have stayed away.”
“You didn’t interrupt anything. I was showing her the car.”
“I hope I didn’t embarrass her. She seemed a nice one. Will we be seeing more of her?”
“I don’t think so.” Adam fastened the tool shed door. “She’s got a lot of problems that I’m not sure I’m ready to deal with.”
The Secrets on Forest Bend Page 18
