by Jane Bradley
“Damn right he’ll leave.” Zeke scooped up the toy dog from the floor, opened the bag, tossed it in. “I heard what you did to that girl. And you steal her fucking dog and bring it to my boy. Get the hell out of here.”
Jesse turned to leave, glad he was in a public place. He knew Zeke wanted to kick the shit out of him, and there would be no fighting with Zeke, not if he wanted to live.
Jesse went out the door to the hallway. Before he could see what hit him, he was slammed to the floor by the smack of weight on his back, his arms yanked behind him, cuffed. Cops. He couldn’t count the cops standing around him yelling his name and saying, “You sorry motherfucker!” He lay still, just the way they wanted. He stared at their shoes. Someone yanked him up, shoved him against the wall, searched his shirt, his pockets, all the way down his legs to his shoes. He glanced down the hallway; no one was in sight. They must have cleared the floor. A cop slammed him against the wall. “Eyes down, you son of a bitch.” He saw Zeke’s boots come out the door. Zeke stood there. Jesse moved his eyes up to see Zeke’s arms tight across his chest, his face red. He just stood there breathing that hard sound a man makes once he’s quit a fight. The cops were shouting, “You Jesse Hollowfield? Jesse Hollowfield?”
“Yeah, that’s who I am,” he said. Somebody grabbed the back of his head, mashed the side of his face against the wall. He stood still, tasted blood in his mouth. He heard them going through his backpack. He glanced at Zeke, who seemed to be enjoying this.
“You set me up. Why the fuck you set me up?” Jesse said.
Zeke shook his head. “Wasn’t me. But somebody popped your ass.” He looked at the cops. “Get this piece of shit out of here.”
Two cops shoved him down the hallway. There were others in front and behind. He tried to count how many they’d sent to get him. He picked up his pace so they wouldn’t be pushing. At the nurse’s station, he saw the man who’d brought the flowers. He didn’t look like some smug rich dude now. He looked scared. Jesse grinned at him. “That’s right,” he said. “You ought to be fucking scared of me.”
The cop at his side leaned close, speaking so hard that spit spattered Jesse’s ear. “Shut your mouth, you son of a bitch!”
Cops stood at the elevator, waiting. A detective was chewing on a toothpick, his eyes locked on Jesse. Jesse looked right back at him. “It’s all right. You just doing your job.” They shoved him in the elevator. He looked at the detective, said, “And I’m just doing mine. Ain’t you got no sympathy for the devil here?” The doors closed, and it came just like he knew it would, the smack at the back of his head that made his knees crumble.
Everybody Wants to Die Sometimes
Livy stopped on the sidewalk leading to the inn when she heard Shelby’s phone ring. Shelby backed up for privacy to answer it. Livy watched her. Every time that phone rang, she thought it had to be about Katy. But there were others who went missing every day, old people with Alzheimer’s wandering, sometimes driving somewhere and clarity suddenly kicking in to show them they were lost, kids swiped by a parent on the losing end of divorce, teenaged boys, and women, so many women gone. Shelby was nodding, must have felt Livy’s what-is-it stare. She shook her head, then called, “It’s nothing to do with Katy. You can go on inside if you want.” Livy went ahead, stepped up on the porch. She sat in a rocker on the porch to wait for Shelby. She didn’t want to go in alone. She could hear laughter inside. She leaned forward and looked out at the lake. A blue heron squawked and rose up from a thicket of trees down the shoreline. It flapped its giant wings and swooped across the water, then rose and settled on the post of a dock way out across the lake. And all was still.
It was no wonder Katy came here. After those late nights of tending bar, breathing smoke and liquor, and dodging all those guys who always wanted some little piece of her, it must have been heaven to sit here by the lake. Livy looked down the shoreline, saw a red Jeep pull into the parking lot of a little beach. A woman got out, helped a little girl out of the backseat, who ran straight to the water, ignoring the mother’s call to take off her shoes. Then a man got out, went to the back of the Jeep to unload things. One of those family outings, Livy remembered those with Katy and her father, happy times at the start until he started changing, complaining about the mosquitoes, the sun, the sand, even yelling at the charcoal when it didn’t burn right.
Shelby came up on the porch, snapped her phone shut. “It’s off now,” she said. “Let’s get inside and talk to Roy.”
Shelby wasn’t looking at her, just kept her eyes on the ground as she moved forward. Livy touched her arm. “What was that call? There’s something you’re not telling me.”
Shelby gave her a steady look. There was tension in it. “There’s another news break about that girl in Land Fall. They got the guy who did it.”
“What’s Land Fall?”
Shelby moved toward the door. “A gated community. Nothing bad’s supposed to happen there.”
The room went still, and a man in a uniform turned, rose, and moved toward Shelby. “There she is!” He wrapped his arms around Shelby, gave a kiss to the side of her head. His soft, dark eyes looked straight at Livy. He gave a little nod. Shelby was right. He was the kind of man any woman would like. He smelled like Old Spice. He was handsome. But not too handsome, with his teeth just a little crooked. He moved like a man who would take care of things.
Shelby held him for a quick moment, then pushed back, said, “Roy, this is—”
“Mrs. Baines,” he said, holding her hand between both of his, giving a good warm shake. She liked Roy’s thick blond hair that needed a cut. He looked to be in his forties but had the graceful way of a younger man. Shelby was right; there was mischief in those eyes, but also a tension, as if even when he was laughing, his mind was on getting things done. He stepped back, glanced at the floor, then looked back into her face. “I wish we were meeting under better circumstances, ma’am.” He gestured toward a table, “Have a seat.”
Livy sat, looked across the room to the waitress watching her. The cook came from out back and gave a nod. Roy went to the counter for his coffee cup. “This is Sam and Maura. They put up with me. I don’t know why. Must be my good looks and irresistible wit.”
Maura smiled and threw a dishtowel at him. “He’s just a big old flirt.”
He picked up the towel from the floor, threw it back at her. “And you love it.”
“Yes, she does,” Sam said, walking toward them. He hugged Shelby, smiled, and reached to shake Livy’s hand. “You’ve got a good team. They found my daughter, Roy and Shelby; they found my girl in Myrtle Beach. She’s doing just fine.”
Livy nodded. “Shelby told me. You are a lucky man.”
“Yes, I am.” He stood over them, kissed the top of Shelby’s head, slapped Roy on the shoulder, then gave the lightest pat to Livy’s arm as if to say they were all connected now. “You’re in good hands.” He touched the menu. “Anything you want. It’s on me.”
Maura said, “I’ll be right with you,” and went back to changing filters in the coffee machine.
Roy leaned toward Livy. “You mind if I smoke?”
“It’s fine,” she said. She watched him light up, liked the smell of the match, the little flare of tobacco and paper and the smoke unfurling.
Maura called over, “And don’t forget, Roy. You aren’t leaving until you buy raffle tickets from me.”
He grinned. “Now, why would I want to spend my good money on your raffle?”
“You always spend money on my raffle. Not even a smart-ass like you can resist helping those kids.”
Roy nodded, smiled at Livy. “They raise money for the high school girls’ softball team. Kids playing ball to stay out of trouble. They’re too worn out from running around in the heat.” He took a hit off his cigarette and squinted at the menu, but Livy could see something else on his mind. No one had mentioned Katy. Livy looked at the menu but couldn’t really take in the words. It seemed so strange to do these normal thi
ngs. Shelby was studying the menu as if she’d never seen it before. Something was up. Livy looked out the window to the blue lake stretching out. The world went on. Fish were drifting in the lake, birds flying above, and that little family on the shore were getting ready for a picnic and a swim, and no doubt across the water some father and son were out there casting their lines.
“My Katy played softball,” Livy said.
Maura came over, touched Livy’s shoulder. “I’m so sorry she’s missing. She’s in our prayers at church.”
“Thank you,” Livy said, just wanting to push back from the table and leave. She had a sick feeling stirring up. There was no running from the fact the Katy was gone, and as long as Katy was gone, Livy would find herself moving from stranger to stranger, both wanting and hating their help. She smelled Roy’s cigarette, the soothing yet sharp odor. She remembered Katy saying how sometimes when she felt the urge to cry, she could light up and it would stop the tears from coming. Livy leaned across the table. “You mind if I have one of your cigarettes?”
“Of course,” Roy said, offering her a cigarette from his pack.
“I didn’t know you smoked,” Shelby said.
“I don’t,” she said. “I tried them in college. It’s nice sometimes, gives you something to do when you’re nervous.” She let Roy light her cigarette. She straightened up, inhaled, barely, then looked at the cigarette. “My husband would have a fit.”
Shelby smiled. “He won’t hear of it from me.”
Livy tried another inhalation, a little deeper this time. It burned, and she coughed, her eyes tearing up as she watched Maura place tall glasses of sweet tea on the table. She put the cigarette out, managed to say, “Well, that was stupid.” The coughing kept coming, deepened to a gagging sound. She felt the nausea roll up, and she rushed to the door to get outside. Just making it to the porch, she leaned over the railing and heaved nothing but water and bile into the bushes beneath.
Finally she straightened, looked out at the lake. Her head hummed, but she felt better, as if she’d gotten some kind of poison out. She stood, feeling her breath go steady.
She looked out at the lake shimmering like a blue mirror, clouds on the water reflecting clouds in the sky. She wasn’t ready for the conversation that was waiting inside the restaurant. She walked toward the lake, feeling the coolness of a breeze in the air.
She heard the sound of a child’s laughter, looked over to the beach, and saw a little girl in a pink one-piece backing into the water, calling, “Watch me, Mommy, watch me.” The mom stood on the shore, arms crossed, and watched. A man was taking picnic things from the Jeep. The little girl crouched in the water, smacked it with her hands to make it splash. “Careful,” her mom called. The girl straightened, turned, walked farther out into the water, looking back again and again to make sure the mother was watching. She looked about six. Katy had already been swimming at that age. Katy liked to pretend she was a mermaid, diving under the water, holding her breath so long Livy would always be moving toward her by the time she surfaced. The farther out the girl went, the more she looked back, making sure the mother was there. The mother slipped her sandals off and waded into the water. The dad had stopped unloading things to watch. It was a shallow lake. Almost flat, it seemed. The girl walked and walked, the water staying around her waistline. Shelby had said it was shallow, and the lake seemed to have almost no incline. It was like a giant wading pool there at the beach, but out past the buoys, it dropped deep. Livy remembered how Shelby had said the water could suddenly turn. “Look how far out I am, Mommy,” the girl called. The mom was knee-deep in the water now, smiling, nodding. “You’re very, very far.” The girl took more steps, turned. “Look how far I am now.” “Come on back in,” the mother called, moving closer to her daughter. A few more steps and her shorts would get wet, but she wasn’t thinking about her shorts. Her eyes and mind were all on getting closer to her girl.
“Mrs. Baines, you all right?”
She turned at Roy’s voice, saw Shelby and Roy coming toward her. Roy’s face was set the way her doctor’s face had been when he’d told her she had precancerous cells. But they had fixed all that.
“Just tell me the news,” she said. But she couldn’t look at him. She turned back toward the little girl.
“We have a lead,” he said.
She looked at him. “I knew that. What kind of lead?”
His face went blank, but there was a pinch to his eyes. She knew he was going to say, I’m sorry. She turned to watch the girl out there, splashing her mom and laughing. Livy felt dizzy. She rocked a bit, reached to grip his arm, and he let her. Shelby was ready to catch her if she fell. She turned back to Roy, felt her nails squeezing into his arm. She relaxed her grip. “You can tell me,” she said.
He glanced at her, caught her eyes, then winced, looked back toward the little girl in the lake. “There was a girl in Land Fall.”
She looked to Shelby. “And she has something to do with my Katy?”
“Yes,” Roy said. “There was a girl in Land Fall who was attacked. In her home.”
“What do you mean ‘attacked’?”
Roy looked away as if he needed to see something out there in the lake. “Raped,” he said. “Beaten. Bad.” He shook his head.
The little girl squealed and was running farther out into the water. “Stop right there,” her mother yelled. The girl stopped, turned, her head lowered, looked up at her mom.
Livy took a breath. “And did this girl live?”
“Yes,” Roy said. She saw him start to say something, take it back. She let go of his arm, held herself, arms wrapped tightly. “And what does she have to do with my Katy?”
He sighed, put his hands in his pockets, looked back out at the lake. “The man who attacked her said something about a woman in a blue truck with Tennessee plates. He carjacked her.”
“Katy.” She wiped away the wetness on her face. Out there in the lake, the mother held out her hand and didn’t have to say a word to make the little girl come to her. “What did this man do to Katy?”
Roy sighed and looked down. “We don’t have proof it was Katy.”
“Was Katy?” Livy said. She looked back toward the inn. The building, the land, all seemed to be receding as if some current in the lake were reaching up and pulling her away from the world of solid things. She felt herself sinking to the ground. She squeezed her arms tighter, held on.
“We don’t have proof, but it sounds like your daughter. The man mentioned the POSITIV license plates.”
“What did he do to her?’ She heard the pleading in her voice. She grabbed his arm again. “You said the girl lived. What did he do to my Katy?”
He shook his head, looked her straight in the face, said it. “He said he killed her.” He looked to the ground. “I’m sorry. It’s what he said. But sometimes guys like to say a lot of things they didn’t do.”
“Killed her?” Livy whispered, but it wasn’t a question. Even though it sounded like a question, it was a fact. She was on the ground now, her fingers clenching the grass, nails digging in the dirt. She looked at Roy’s shoes, shiny black leather. She felt Shelby on the ground beside her. She asked, “Did he say how?” The land was spinning. She dug into the dirt to hang on.
He crouched beside her, leaned close. “We don’t know for certain it was Katy.”
“Yes, you do.” There was a wailing sound from somewhere. She looked toward the little girl, who was jumping up and down, holding her mother’s hand. Was she laughing or screaming? Livy felt the wailing sound squeezing up from her chest. There was a hand on her back. It was Shelby. She looked at Shelby, saw such a sadness there. “What did he do to the woman in a blue truck? With Tennessee plates. The woman who had the word POSITIV on her Tennessee license plates. This woman. My daughter. What did he do to my girl?”
Shelby looked to Roy, gave a nod.
“The man said the woman, the woman he killed, didn’t see it coming.” His eyes were on Shelby now. He was scar
ed.
Livy watched the little girl wading back to shore, now holding her mother’s hand. “I don’t believe this. That girl who was attacked, maybe she imagined these things. She must have been delirious, getting raped like that. Sometimes when you’re upset, you imagine the worst kinds of things.” She looked at Roy, then to Shelby. They both seemed to be drifting away, but they were holding her, they were touching her. But it all seemed to be flying. “I don’t believe this, but I know what you’re saying is true.” She pulled her knees up to her chest and rocked. All she could hear was breathing. She looked out at the lake, her vision so blurred she couldn’t see the line between water, land, and sky. Roy was saying something, but she couldn’t hear it over the pounding in her ears. She sat still, felt the pressure of Shelby’s arms wrapped around her. She was such a little woman, but her arms were powerful, as if she had been trained in holding the world together in those thin, strong arms. “You can let me go now,” Livy said. “I’m not going to go crazy.”
Shelby released her, then sat beside her, held her hand. Roy was walking away, answering his phone. Livy felt nausea rising again at the back of her throat, swallowed it down. There was nothing left to get out. She took in a slow breath, exhaled. “Why would he hurt Katy?”
Shelby squeezed Livy’s hand, shook her head. “There is no reason.”
Livy looked over at the little family. Now the girl was sitting at the picnic table, eating something. “Katy’s daddy didn’t like picnics. He said he didn’t see the point.” She cried now, hugged her knees hard to her chest and cried. She cried and cried until it was all out. She rolled over in the grass, smelled the dirt and the green. Katy had said that when she gardened, she loved the smell of dirt and green. And Livy had laughed and asked, “How can you smell green?” But Katy was right—green did have a smell. It smelled . . . green. Livy closed her eyes. “I just want to sleep a little, just a minute, just a little, please.” She remembered Lawrence. Her eyes blinked wide open, seeing nothing but grass and sky. She thought, This is how the dead see. She jerked up to sit. Shelby watched her, waited. “I like the way you wait. You never push.”
