Her Sister's Shoes

by Ashley Farley

  Mack inhaled another deep breath and straightened. “He got away from me, but the police are hot on his trail.”

  “Are your eyes still burning?” The hardened face in front of her did not match the doctor’s gentle voice. She’d pictured a small-framed man with a crew cut and wire-rimmed glasses. This man, this so-called doctor, was bald with a round face covered in red whiskers, mustache and beard, and bushy eyebrows. Under normal circumstances, she might have mistaken him for one of Curtis’s friends. She imagined him riding across the country on the back of a Harley Davidson—not greeting patients in an examining room.

  “What kind of doctor are you?” she asked.

  He chuckled. “I’m actually a veterinarian. I figured if I told you I treated animals instead of humans, you might not trust me.”

  “That explains your soft voice,” she said. “Do your clients call you the pet whisperer?”

  “I’ve been called that a time or two,” he said, and let out a deep belly laugh.

  From a distance, she recognized Eli’s stocky frame approaching with a blanket in his outstretched hands. Once he reached her, he wrapped the blanket around her shoulders and helped her to her feet. “Let’s get you home. I’ll drive you and Jamie in your Jeep, and leave Swanson to interview the witnesses.”

  “Thank you for your kindness,” she said to the pet whisperer. “You have a better bedside manner than most doctors I know.” She held her hand out to him.

  “You’re welcome, kind lady,” he said, kissing the back of her hand. He slapped Eli on the back. “Find the bastard who did this to her.”

  “We’re on it,” Eli said.

  Sam pulled the blanket up over her head and kept her eyes glued to the ground as Eli led her to the car. She felt like the main attraction in the freak show at a state fair. Under Jamie’s protests, she crawled in the backseat of the Jeep and curled up in a fetal position.

  How could such a great day go south so quickly?

  Her relief over being able to see gave way to rage as she listened to Jamie answer Eli’s endless stream of questions. Curtis had changed the game rules. The stakes were higher than ever, and she didn’t want to play anymore. He had destroyed her home and damn near blinded her. Next time he might douse her with gasoline and strike a match.

  Next time he might go after her son.

  Faith and Lovie were waiting for her outside the guest cottage, with a large container of dishwashing liquid and a stack of old towels.

  Lovie wrapped her arm around Sam. “Come on, honey. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

  “I’ve already got the shower running for you,” Faith said, holding the door open for her sister.

  “I don’t need your help,” Sam said, brushing her mother off. She grabbed the dishwashing detergent from Faith and a bottle of vodka from the fully stocked bar on her way up to her room.

  “The booze will only make it worse, Sam,” Eli called up after her.

  She slammed the bathroom door in response.

  Locking the door behind her, she unscrewed the liquor bottle’s cap and took a long pull of vodka. She peeled off her paint-soaked clothes and tested the water before stepping into the shower, bottle in hand. In between swigs of vodka, she lathered and rinsed and repeated until the water ran clear.

  Enveloped in the soft terry cloth robe her sister provided for guests, Sam curled up in the corner of the bathroom, between the toilet and the window, with the vodka. The alcohol hit her empty stomach, making her feel woozy. She drank more, in desperate search for oblivion. When the room began to spin, she lay down on the floor, letting the cool marble soothe the raw skin on her face.

  She passed out, only to be awakened a while later by Eli’s persistent pounding on the door. “Open up, Sam.”

  “Go away!”

  “If you don’t open this door, I’ll break it down. And I’m pretty good at it too. I’ve had a lot of practice.”

  Despite her foul mood, Sam found this funny and covered her mouth to stifle a laugh. She crawled over to the door and opened it. “Leave me alone, Eli. I’m not in the mood for a sermon about addiction. Go find someone else to preach to about the virtues of your twelve-step program.”

  Placing one hand on each arm, Eli lifted her off the floor to her feet. “How about a hamburger, then? I have a fat juicy one waiting for you downstairs.”

  She didn’t want food. She wanted more vodka. But if eating would get Eli off her back and food in her stomach, she would eat first, then have more to drink after he left.

  He took her hand and led her downstairs to the small living area. Once she was settled on the sofa, he handed her a tray and sat down next to her.

  “Aren’t you going to eat?” she asked.

  “I’ve already eaten, on the terrace with the others. We missed you. Jamie is quite the chef.”

  She pinched off a piece of hamburger and shoved it in her mouth.

  “Why don’t I talk while you eat. I’d like to tell you about my near-death experience with alcohol, if you’re willing to listen.”

  He’d trapped her of course, but she couldn’t very well say no. His patronizing attitude toward her drinking grated her nerves, but as much as she hated to admit it, she was curious about the events that had made him that way.

  “I’m willing to listen. As long as you don’t expect anything from me in return.”

  “Is it expecting too much for me to ask you not to judge me?”

  “As long as you take your own advice and don’t judge me.” He shot her a gimme-a-break look, and she shrugged. “You backed yourself into that corner.”

  Eli leaned back against the cushions, pausing in thought before speaking. “When I was a junior in high school, I killed a kid.”

  Sam’s sharp intake of breath caused her to choke on her food. Eli slapped her back, then handed her the glass of iced tea he’d poured for her. “You killed someone?” she asked, when she was able to talk again.

  “I now know it was an accident. But let me start from the beginning. I was the starting inside linebacker for my high school varsity team. It was my junior year, and college coaches from every division were recruiting me.” Eli caught Sam sizing him up. “I may not be very tall, but I am strong and fast, even more so back then.”

  He took a sip of iced tea and licked his lips. “Anyway, we were playing against this prep school from North Carolina. Their quarterback handed the ball off to the running back and I tackled him, a perfectly legal tackle. I didn’t ram my helmet into his or anything like that. But the kid hit the ground hard, and the force of the blow killed him on impact. I learned later that he already had a concussion no one knew about. But at the time, as I watched the paramedics wheel his body off the field, all I could think about was that I’d taken another person’s life, a kid who’d barely begun to live.

  “My parents made me go to the funeral, which did little to ease my guilt.”

  Sam set her dinner tray on the coffee table, her appetite gone. “I can’t imagine how hard that must’ve been for you.”

  “I started drinking, any kind of alcohol I could get my hands on. I stole booze from my parents and my friends’ parents, and when I still wasn’t drunk enough, I paid the bums outside of the liquor store to buy me pints of cheap bourbon. I started skipping class, then I stopped going to school altogether, and before I knew it, I was flunking every one of my courses.

  “My parents finally shipped me off to rehab, where I stayed for three days. I took money out of a nurse’s wallet, got my hands on a bottle of booze, and hopped on the next bus headed to Nowhere, New Mexico. I passed out before I got to Atlanta, and woke up in a dumpster in Nashville, Tennessee. I’d been raped and beaten within an inch of my life.”

  Sam’s mouth formed the word raped but no sound came out.

  He looked away in shame.

  She placed a hand on his shoulder, encouraging him to continue. “What did you do then?”

  “I called Kyle, who boarded the next plane to Nashville. He rented a
furnished apartment, and for the next month, he stayed by my side. He nursed me while I detoxed, held me when I cried out in my sleep. He listened and he counseled. He helped me understand that Alexander Brooks’s death was not my fault. He helped me find my way again.”

  Sam dabbed at her eyes with her napkin. “Did you ever play football again?”

  Eli shook his head. “I never went back to high school. I got my GED, moved to New York City, and joined the police academy.”

  This surprised Sam. She’d always assumed Eli had gone to college before becoming a policeman. She had no idea he’d lived anywhere other than South Carolina. “Why New York?”

  He shifted on the sofa to face her. “Over sixty thousand homeless people live in New York, many of them kids who have lost their way. As a police officer, I was in a position to help them, to keep them out of harm’s way and find them shelter whenever possible.”

  “Why did you decide to move back to South Carolina?”

  “I came home to be with Kyle after his accident.”

  “So you returned the favor.”

  “I didn’t do it because of any debt of gratitude. Although I was plenty grateful to him for saving my life. We take care of each other. That’s what families do. I don’t need to tell you that. Look what you’ve done for Faith.”

  “I haven’t done a very good job of taking care of Faith. I’ve basically fallen apart on her.” Sam could admit it. She just couldn’t stop it. She’d listened to Eli describe how alcohol nearly destroyed his life, yet she still felt tempted by the bottles of rum and gin and vodka on the bar across the room.

  “Don’t you think some of what you’re experiencing is fallout from Jamie’s accident?” he asked. “Not just the surgery, but watching him suffer over the death of his best friend, and seeing him struggle to walk again. You’ve been through hell and back, Sam. Most women in your shoes would’ve cracked a long time ago. All your life, you’ve been strong for everyone else. Now it’s time to let them be strong for you. Let me help you, Sam.” He tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “I think your alcohol abuse is out of control.”

  She knocked his hand away. “I can quit anytime I want to.”

  “You’re in denial,” he said, shaking his head in disbelief. “You have no idea how many alcoholics have said that very same thing to me. Most of them have not lived long enough to prove it.”

  Sam jumped to her feet. “I plan on living long enough to prove it to you. But I can’t prove it to you until you put Curtis behind bars. You do your job, Eli. Then I’ll do mine.” She stomped off toward the stairs, stopping long enough to grab her bottle of vodka from the bar along the way.

  Thirty-Five

  Faith

  Faith woke from a fitful sleep to the sound of the dogs barking, relentless and ferocious.

  Curtis.

  She slipped on her robe and scurried down the stairs to the game room. Through the french doors, she spotted Mack, pinned up against the side of the guest cottage by the barking dogs.

  She punched in the alarm code on the keypad beside the door. “Felix, Oscar, heel,” she commanded, and the dogs darted to her side. She bent down to pet them. “Morning,” she said to Mack. “I didn’t know you were coming over so early.”

  He loosened his grip on the shotgun he clutched in the crook of his arm. “Actually, I never left last night.”

  She noticed his windbreaker rolled into a pillow on the wooden bench beside the door. “Did you sleep on that bench?”

  He shrugged. “It didn’t feel right leaving, after what happened to Sam yesterday.”

  “You mean you’ve been here all this time and the dogs are just now noticing you?”

  He chuckled. “Some guard dogs. They sniffed and licked me all during the night, then for some reason turned on me this morning.”

  “They’re just mad at you for not feeding them,” she said. “Let me get them some food and I’ll fix us some coffee.”

  She was in the garage scooping dry kibble into giant-size bowls when Eli wandered down the driveway. “Out for a stroll so early?” she called.

  He shook his head. “I thought I’d run Sam’s car over to our shop, to see if they can get some of this paint off.” He ran his hand over the paint-splattered door. “You don’t happen to know where I might find her keys, do you?”

  Mack removed a set of keys from his pocket and tossed them to Eli. “I took these from her last night. Not that she was in any condition to drive.”

  “That was smart thinking,” Eli said.

  Faith replaced the lid on the dog food container. “Mack and I were just going upstairs for some coffee. Care to join us?” she asked Eli.

  He glanced at his watch. “Sure, why not? Technically I’m not on duty for another hour.”

  “Are you working the early shift this week?” Faith asked.

  “No. I put in for overtime. Whether I get paid or not, I plan to work around the clock until Curtis is behind bars.”

  “That’s awfully generous of you, Eli. I don’t know how to thank you.”

  He smiled. “I’ll settle for that cup of coffee.”

  “Then what are we waiting for,” Faith said, and the two men followed her upstairs. When they each had a steaming mug in hand, Faith suggested they go out on the porch. “They’re forecasting a scorcher. We might as well get some fresh air while we can.”

  Once they were settled in the rocking chairs, Mack asked Eli, “Any leads on Curtis’s whereabouts?”

  “Yes. Well, sort of.” Eli glanced nervously at Faith. “We found his bike, what is now a wrecked pile of metal, out by the Road House last night.”

  “I’m not surprised he was slumming it out there, considering the hooligans they’ve got hanging around,” Mack said.

  “Based on our intel, he arrived there sometime after eleven. When one of our patrolmen spotted the bike at two this morning, Curtis was long gone and no one admitted to having seen him.”

  “Naturally,” Faith said. “I wonder if he’s hurt.”

  Eli stopped rocking and shifted to the right to face her. “We checked the hospital, but no one matching Curtis’s description has been brought in.”

  “With any luck, he’s permanently incapacitated,” Mack muttered.

  Eli pointed at him. “You said it, not me.” He turned back to Faith. “We know his friends are covering for him, but I promise you, we are doing everything we can to find him, in spite of our limited resources.”

  She leaned her head back against the rocker. “I know you are. I just worry it’s not enough.”

  “We all have to pitch in and do our part.” Mack stroked his shotgun beside him. “Me and my Beretta are gonna camp out here until the crisis is over.”

  “I feel better knowing you’re here,” Eli said. “Just be careful not to shoot the wrong person.”

  Mack cackled. “You don’t have to worry about that. But if I get a clear shot of Curtis, I can’t promise you I’ll hold back.”

  Faith buried her face in her hands. “God, Mack. Things are bad enough without you playing vigilante.”

  “I hate to bring up a sore subject,” Eli said, “but I’m worried Sam’s drinking has gotten out of control.”

  “I agree,” Faith said. “I know she’s under a lot of pressure, but …”

  “Have you seen all the booze that’s in the cottage?” Eli asked. “It’s too much temptation for someone so vulnerable.”

  Faith’s eyes narrowed. “I didn’t realize that. As soon as Jamie gets up, we’ll get it out of there.”

  “Do you know what Bill’s plans are for the kids today?” Eli asked. “I heard him say something to them about going out in the boat, but I’m not sure that’s such a good idea.”

  No one had mentioned it, but everyone seemed to know that Jackie and Bill had split up, and he was no longer living at the house.

  “A friend of Bill’s owns a private beach over close to the mouth of the inlet,” Faith said. “It’s pretty well hidden, and Cur
tis doesn’t know about the place, but if you don’t think they should go …”

  Eli considered Faith’s comments, and said, “If that’s the case, it’s probably all right. The kids need the fresh air anyway.”

  “Even if it’s so hot you can barely catch your breath,” Faith said.

  They finished their coffee in silence, rocking back and forth, watching an osprey fly in circles over the creek, searching for food. The osprey made its dive and headed off over the marsh with a fish in its mouth.

  Faith thought back to all the sunrises she’d seen from her bedroom window in the cottage next door. “I miss this, watching nature come alive in the mornings.”

  “I see it every day,” Mack said, “but I never take it for granted. The beauty of our inlet keeps me honest.”

  Eli clinked his coffee mug against Mack’s. “Well said, my friend.” He stood to leave. “I need to be on my way. Thanks for the coffee, Faith.”

  Mack got up and stretched. “I’ll walk you out. I’m gonna run home and get my things while everyone’s still asleep.”

  Mack and Eli had no sooner backed out of the driveway when a flaming-red sports car came zooming in. A giant black man, who could only be Moses based on Sam’s description of him, climbed out.

  The cottage door swung open and Jamie wheeled out into the driveway. “I didn’t mean for you to drive all the way out here.”

  “I couldn’t ignore your message, buddy.” Moses mussed Jamie’s hair. “You sounded so worried.”

  Faith stopped rocking. She hated to spy on her nephew, but she was more than a little curious why he’d sent out an SOS to his physical therapist.

  “Mom’s having a hard time,” Jamie said. “And I don’t know how to help her.”

  Faith heard only some of Jamie’s depiction of the incident in the parking lot at the Harris Teeter.

  “My mom has never been much of a drinker. It’s like she’s become an alcoholic overnight.”

  “Some people handle stress better than others.” Moses placed a hand on Jamie’s shoulder. “Your mom is one tough lady, but everyone has their breaking point. She’s a single parent, responsible for her family’s business. The months since your accident have been hard on her, and now there’s a maniac running around trashing her house and throwing paint in her face. Frankly, I’m surprised she hasn’t cracked before now.”