Broken Trust

by Shannon Baker

  Petal hiccupped and turned her red-rimmed eyes to Nora. “Sylvia.”

  No surprise there. “Sylvia what?”

  Petal sniffed. “She killed those birds.”

  While Abigail rubbed Petal’s back, she opened her eyes wide, tilted her head, and dropped her jaw. She either had a sudden stroke or she tried to communicate silently with Nora. If Nora had to guess, Abigail was saying Petal was one enchilada short of a combination plate.

  Her silent message delivered, Abigail concentrated on Petal. “How could Sylvia have anything to do with those birds? She was here in Boulder at the funeral this morning.”

  Petal shook her head, eyes watering again. “She can do it all from here. She did it.”

  Nora had nothing to say.

  In between intense eye roll signals to Nora, Abigail said to Petal, “When you calm down you’ll see you’re not making sense.”

  Nora tried to fit the bits of Petal’s scattered thoughts into some shape. “Does this have to do with the tower? Is it linked to the HAARP research?”

  Petal grew still, like a frightened kitten hiding in a corner. “Yes,” she squeaked.

  “What is harp?” Abigail asked, impatience fraying her words.

  Nora answered for Petal. “Sylvia worked there before she came to the Trust.”

  “What does that have to do with birds dying?” Abigail asked.

  Nora answered Abigail. “I don’t know. She said she researched sending a beam up to bounce in the ionosphere. She’s using that technology to gather data on the climate and beetle kill. What do you know, Petal?”

  Irritation colored Abigail’s voice. “You’re speaking Greek.”

  Petal sniffed. “It’s more than that. The HAARP facility is in Alaska because it’s close to the atmospheric conditions like the aurora borealis. It’s all really secure with government soldiers and things.”

  “I still don’t see where this has anything to do with birds,” Abigail said.

  Nora understood that Petal needed to wind down the path of her brain to get to any meaningful destination. Abigail would just have to slow her pace.

  “Tell us everything,” Nora said.

  Petal inhaled a shaky breath. “When we worked for the private contractor who worked for the government, we studied communication systems based on bouncing lasers off the ionosphere. But we also worked secretly on weapons research.”

  Abigail opened her mouth, probably to hurry Petal along.

  Nora jumped in. “You worked with Sylvia before?”

  Tears seeped from Petal’s eyes. “I’ve been with her for seven years.”

  That was one clue to Petal’s age. “Go on.”

  Petal searched Nora’s face as if to test her worthiness. “While we were with HAARP, we found Nikola Tesla’s secret studies and they showed the exact frequencies needed for incredible power. The technology we discovered can be used to alter the weather.”

  Right. And Santa Claus kept a list with Nora perpetually in the wrong column.

  “So Sylvia learned to alter the weather. Why did she quit HAARP?” Nora said.

  “She didn’t quit. She was fired.” Petal swiped her nose with her sleeve.

  “Why?” Abigail asked.

  “She wasn’t doing any of the work but taking credit for it and they finally figured it out.”

  “Why didn’t she publish her findings?” Nora asked gently.

  “They made her sign a document about government secrets and that she wouldn’t continue her research.”

  “But she has?” Abigail crossed the room and grabbed another tissue from a box on the counter bar. She handed it to Petal.

  Petal wiped her eyes and nodded. “Besides, if Sylvia tried to publish her work there’s a good chance someone would kill her.”

  Abigail’s eyes narrowed in offense. “From our government? That’s preposterous.”

  It sounded more like a spy novel than real life. Maybe that’s where Petal came up with the plot.

  “Now all those innocent birds are dead.” Her voice faded into sobs.

  Abigail did some weird eye-roll thing that Nora thought meant Petal was not just crazy but a full-out Looney Tunes.

  Nora tried to ground Petal. “But changing weather doesn’t have anything to do with thousands of dead birds.”

  Changing weather. One of the prophecies had to do with weather.

  Petal gulped. “It’s the freak thunderstorm, like the ornithologist said.”

  “But he said there was no record of the phenomenon,” Abigail said.

  “That’s because it happened so far up in the atmosphere the only indication was the impact it had on the birds.”

  The pieces didn’t fit together any better than Petal’s outfit. “Even if this is what happened and Sylvia is behind it, why would she do that?”

  Petal looked from Abigail to Nora. She lowered her voice. “Because she’s really not working for the Trust. That’s just her cover.”

  “Cover for what?”

  “She’s continuing to work on controlling the weather.”

  Abigail stood. “I think we need coffee. Nora, can you help me find the beans you like?”

  Even a flake like Petal could see through that obvious ploy. Nora rose and followed Abigail into the kitchen. Abigail opened and shut cupboards, all the time keeping an eye on Petal over the breakfast bar. “If it were me, I’d keep them here,” she nearly yelled and banged a cupboard door closed.

  She leaned close to Nora and whispered. “Do you think we should call a doctor?”

  Nora thought they should call somebody skilled with delusional hippies, but she had no idea who that would be. “Let’s just—”

  “Nope, not here, either,” Abigail yelled and opened and slammed a door.

  “—see if we can talk some sense into her.”

  Abigail opened and closed a door, whispering, “Do you think that will work? She’s really nuts.”

  “Make her some hot milk and maybe we can get her to sleep.” They kept their eyes on Petal.

  Petal hugged herself and rocked on the couch.

  “She can smoke some more pot,” Abigail said.

  “Petal has a flimsy enough grasp of reality. She doesn’t need that kind of encouragement from us.” Nora slid a canister of coffee from its spot on the counter and stopped it in front of Abigail. She walked back to the living room.

  The doorbell rang and Petal sprang from the couch and sprinted down the hall toward the bedrooms. Abigail patted Nora’s arm. “You get the door. I’ll go see about Petal.”

  “No illegal drugs, Mother.”

  thirty-four

  Nora pulled open the front door to see Cole standing there with a pizza box balanced on his outstretched hand.

  It smelled like cheesy, spicy wonderfulness. Now it made sense that Abigail hadn’t cautioned Nora to take a weapon with her when she answered the doorbell. “Let me guess,” she said, grinning and stepping back to let him in. “Abigail and Petal called and asked you to bring this.”

  He stepped inside. “How did you know?”

  “Lucky guess.” She closed the door against the increased wind.

  He set the box on the kitchen counter. “I thought it might be another of her tricks to get us together.”

  She laughed. “You’re becoming as skeptical as me.”

  “But she swore it wasn’t,” he said as he unzipped his green down jacket. “And she sounded so desperate I couldn’t say no.”

  The cold clung to his coat as Nora hung it up. She was strangely glad to see him. Cole carried assurance as comforting as a warm sleeping bag.

  That sounded like Abigail’s poetry.

  She reminded herself how unpredictable Cole could be. If he thought she was in danger, he might chain her up in a basement.

  He folde
d his arms and leaned back on a kitchen counter. “In the interest of full disclosure, I should tell you I didn’t believe her.”

  She walked to the hallway and shouted to the closed bedroom door. “It’s safe. It’s only Cole and pizza.”

  He shook his head. “Only me.”

  “Hey, you got top billing over the pizza.” She grinned.

  Abigail appeared with her arm around Petal. “Let’s get something in your stomach. You’ll feel better.” They stood beside the table.

  “You mean something besides Oreos and Doritos?” Nora headed into the kitchen.

  Cole set the pizza on the dining table and opened the box. The spicy aroma of sausage and cheese made Nora’s mouth water.

  Petal paled as if no blood circulated in her veins. She wouldn’t make eye contact with Cole. “Where did you get it?”

  Abigail only cringed slightly at Petal’s rudeness.

  Cole carried the plates and spatula Nora handed him to the table. He slid a piece of pizza on a plate and held it out to Petal. “That place down the street.”

  Petal waved it away. “No. I can’t eat that. They use pork sausage and cow’s milk cheese.”

  Right. “Vegan,” Nora explained to Cole.

  He offered the plate to Abigail.

  She waved it away too. “It seemed like a good idea at the time but I’m not hungry anymore.”

  Nora accepted a plate. “Munchies all satisfied?” Petal had eaten the chips and Oreos. Did dietary restrictions take second place to THC cravings?

  Cole piled a couple of slices on his plate. He raised a questioning eyebrow at Nora. “I guess pizza was another of Abigail’s matchmaking tricks.”

  Abigail sniffed. “It was no trick. We were very hungry. Now we’re not.” She led Petal into the living room and settled her on the couch.

  Nora opened the refrigerator and found two beers hanging out with the leftovers from last night’s arranged dinner. She handed one to Cole.

  Nora hiked herself to sit on the kitchen counter and Cole leaned back across from her.

  Nora gulped the cold beer. “Petal and Abigail spent the afternoon taking the edge off their problems in a haze of smoke.”

  Cole’s eyes widened. Around a mouthful of pizza he said, “I thought I smelled something and chocked it up to residue on Petal’s clothes.” He swallowed. “Abigail stoned. What led to that apocalyptic event?”

  Nora hated the reference to anything End of the World, even in jest. All that Hopi, Fourth World-ending stuff didn’t seem like a joke to her.

  “She claims Charlie had an affair and she’s leaving him.” The pizza tasted as good as it smelled.

  Cole nearly spit out his mouthful of beer. “You better invest in long underwear because hell is freezing over.”

  She finished her pizza and hopped down. She reached for his plate and piled pizza onto both and returned. “Speaking of the end of the world, a bunch of birds fell from the sky in Georgia and sent Petal into a meltdown. We’ve been teetering on the edge of reason ever since.”

  Nora gave Cole the skinny on the escalating events leading up to the pizza delivery. The warm, gooey pie might be the single best thing that happened to Nora all day. Having a rational person to provide and share it with didn’t feel too awful either.

  They left their plates in the sink and Nora set the beer bottles on the counter for recycling. Cole leaned on the counter and watched her. “What are you going to do?”

  “Bring this all back to reality.” She walked into the living room where Abigail and Petal sat on the couch talking quietly. They seemed calm, Petal’s hysterics a thing of the past. Perching on the edge of a chair, she addressed Petal. “If what you say is true, we need to go to the police.”

  Petal jumped from the couch and screamed as if Nora had poked her with a torch. Abbey leapt up and let out a few barks.

  Crazy was back in fashion.

  “No, no, no. I can’t.” Petal folded herself into the corner between two pots of corn.

  Now would be a good time to call the folks with the white jackets.

  Cole stood by the kitchen table watching it all with a blank face.

  Abigail squatted in the corner with Petal. “It’s okay, honey. Why don’t you want us to call the police?”

  “She’ll kill me too.” Petal whimpered and drew even tighter into the corner.

  Abbey sat by Nora, welcoming her fingers in his fur. Why couldn’t everyone in her life be like him? He didn’t need expensive trappings, stayed calm most of the time, gave her affection and comfort, and having an affair amounted to sniffing another dog’s rear end. All this in exchange for a daily walk and a full food dish.

  She regarded Cole. Actually, he didn’t require much, either. And he showed up with his own food.

  “Sylvia’s not a killer.” Abigail sounded reasonable

  Petal shook her head. “No. You don’t understand.”

  “What don’t we understand, honey?” Abigail drew Petal from the corner.

  “She killed Darla and if she finds out I know, she’ll kill me too.”

  Abigail and Nora exchanged helpless expressions. What would they do with Petal?

  Petal gazed from one to the other. “Sylvia stole a bunch of money from the Trust. Made it look like Darla took it and then she killed her.”

  Using only her eyes, Nora asked Abigail what to do.

  Petal saw their silent exchange. “You don’t believe me. But it’s true. I saw her kill Darla. I was there.”

  “Oh my,” Abigail said.

  Petal continued in a halting voice. “I was with Darla that night when she went to ask Sylvia about the missing money. I waited in Darla’s office and I heard her run outside. I watched out the window to the back yard and I heard a gunshot. Darla fell. I didn’t know what to do so I hid. And then Darla died.”

  “But she was found closer to the road,” Nora said.

  Petal sobbed and they waited until she could talk. “I carried her out there.”

  Aside from Petal being too weak to carry a dead cat, it seemed strange. “Why?”

  “To protect Sylvia.” The weirdness compounded the longer she spoke.

  Nora said, “You have to go to the cops.”

  “I can’t! If the cops arrest Sylvia she won’t be able to do her work and if she can’t, they’ll find someone else.”

  “ ‘They’ who, dear?” Abigail asked.

  Petal sniffed. “And if they don’t arrest her, Sylvia or the people she works for will kill me.” Petal gulped air. “If she kills me, who will stop her?”

  “Stop her from what?” Nora asked.

  Petal’s eyes acquired a desperate gleam. “I don’t know. But something awful.”

  Abigail sat back in disbelief.

  Nothing about Petal’s story sounded the least bit sane. Still, it made Nora’s heart pound with dread for Petal. “It’s too dangerous for you to do this alone. You have to go to the police.”

  Petal squeezed Nora’s hands with more strength than Nora thought possible. “Please, please. Not tonight. I’ll go tomorrow. Please, let me just stay here and rest tonight.”

  True or not, Petal was terrified. And Nora didn’t have the heart to rip her from the slight comfort of Abigail’s mothering.

  thirty-five

  Sylvia’s Ferrari squealed off the road and across the bridge and into the Trust’s lot. The goddamn parking lot light was out again. She was sick of this rinky-dink facility and their slip-shod maintenance. It was wrong. Everything was wrong tonight. She slammed on the brakes and skidded on the gravel. The few flakes falling hadn’t started to accumulate.

  Birds! Goddamn birds. How did this happen? Petal had calculated the angle, and Sylvia had trusted her. Petal should have known. How could Petal make this mistake?

  Eduardo would have been watching the ne
ws anticipating his victory. What would he do when he saw instead a sea of dead birds?

  Brittle flakes of snow whirled through the frigid air. Clouds threatened to drop more before the storm moved on. Sylvia climbed from her car and hugged her fox-lined jacket close, thankful for the fur-topped snow boots with the rubber-tipped heels. She may have to live in an inhospitable climate but at least she could maintain some style. Not like Alaska where she’d had to wear clothes straight out of survival catalogues.

  Sylvia hurried across the front porch and unlocked the front door. She didn’t bother turning on lights and ran through the kitchen to her office suite.

  Where was Petal? Sylvia needed her to recalculate the refractory angles of the tower and reset the beam.

  But no, she couldn’t trust Petal. Sylvia should have known that girl didn’t have the brain power to accomplish something so delicate. Why hadn’t she checked Petal’s calculations?

  Because Mark had shown up and ruined it all.

  Think, Sylvia! But her mind chased itself. Dead cats, Daniel’s body in her bed, blood on her carpet, the black Town Car, her fur-topped boots, Daniel’s naked body, Mark’s bloody body, Mark, Daniel. Stupid, stupid Petal.

  She leaned against the doorjamb and held her hands to her head trying to push the random thoughts into order.

  Sylvia snapped on the light and ran across her office. She flung her bag onto her desk and booted up her computer. She’d checked the coordinates Petal calculated. They should have been correct.

  Sylvia entered her passwords and navigated beyond the firewalls. In a matter of minutes she understood Petal’s mistake. The moron had transposed two numbers. Perspiration lined her body as she reset the program. Her fingers shook and her nails kept hitting the wrong keys.

  Finally she sat back, her insides a molten stew of acid, her skin chilled from sweat. She’d done it. As only she could do.

  Sylvia rummaged inside her bag for her phone before she remembered it lay—hurled against the wall after Eduardo’s last call—broken on the floor outside her bedroom, which was spattered with Mark’s brains.

  She grabbed the headset of the ancient landline phone on her desk. Her fingernail tapped the buttons and she dialed the country code, area code, and private number. She waited while it rang.