Ruin

by Jette Harris

  “How’d it go?” Remington asked.

  “Smoothly. You?”

  “Informational. Where are you?”

  “Just leaving the courthouse. You?”

  “Just leaving the hospital.” He opened the door to let Heather in.

  “What? Wh—?”

  “We were just concerned one of Heather’s fractures had worsened. It didn’t. I’m taking her home now.” He made sure she was out of the way and shut the door.

  “Want me to meet you there?”

  “No. I’ll meet you at the fire ground. There should already be a team there.”

  “Sounds good.”

  “Hey, Remi.” He paused before opening the driver’s door.

  “Yeah?”

  “Congratulations. I didn’t want to say it before, but I think Sam’s the best choice any man could make. Don’t mess this up.”

  Remington chuckled, or he could have been choking with shock. “Thanks, boss. I think you’re right.”

  Steyer hung up and climbed into the car. Heather had leaned forward.

  “What’s Agent Remington up to?” she whispered.

  Steyer glanced at her, chewing on the answer. “I’ll let him tell you, if he feels comfortable doing so.”

  She sank back into her seat with a huff. He started the car.

  “Is there anywhere else you’d like to go before I take you home?”

  Heather’s gaze grew unfixed. “I’d like to see Ms. Vlasov.”

  Steyer blinked a few times. “I don’t think just dropping in would be the best idea right now.”

  “Have you seen her?”

  “I saw her briefly the other day.”

  Her voice dropped low. “Did you have to tell her?”

  “Chief Collins delivered the message, but we were all present.”

  Tears welled up in her eyes. Steyer patted her hand.

  “I’m sure you’ll see her on Sunday.”

  “The memorial I’m not supposed to know about?”

  “Yes, that memorial.”

  She nodded. “I’d like to speak with her beforehand… in private.”

  “I’ll give her a call and see if we can arrange that.”

  “Much obliged.”

  Flat on her back on the cool garage floor, Heather attempted to use her left hand, as it had never given her issue before. Bolts of pain shot up her neck as she twisted at the oil filter. She hissed between her teeth and pulled her arm close to her torso.

  “Heather?” Tech’s shuffle came around the opposite end of the car.

  “Yeah, Grandpa?” She shifted her body until she could reach up with her right arm.

  “You got company.”

  Heather closed her eyes. More pitiful gazes. More intrusive questions. That tone. Tears began to prick at her eyes just thinking about it. She sniffed and took a deep breath before giving the oil can an aggressive twist.

  “Send them away.” She managed to keep the catch out of her voice. Oil began to pour into the basin.

  “Not this one.”

  Heat flared up to her face. “What?”

  “Not this one. Come on out.”

  Sighing, she pulled herself out from under the Mustang. She wiped her hands on a rag, letting her anger bed back down so Tech wouldn’t have to see it. Wearing an exasperated expression, she turned to where he stood at the mouth of the garage. He stepped aside.

  Heather dropped the rag. The air left her lungs. Elation and disbelief choked out her anger. In the middle of the driveway stood a purple-haired girl, fighting a smile and holding up a sign with bold print:

  GRAB YOUR SNEAKERS!

  Heather could not form words. She shot out of the garage with an uncivilized, strangled squeal. She collided with the girl, knocking her onto the lawn. Whimpering and laughing, they wrapped their arms around one another despite the white-hot pain warning Heather against it.

  The sign fluttered down to the driveway.

  ****

  The night was pleasant, with a gentle breeze. Light fell across the porch roof through Heather’s window, illuminating the two girls. A take-out bag sat on the windowsill. They giggled as they balanced Chinese food tins on their knees. Charli picked bits of mushroom out of her lo mein with her chopsticks and flicked them lazily into Heather’s tin–occasionally missing. Heather reached over and plucked a few that Charli hadn’t noticed.

  “I don’t know if you got my message…” Charli began after a long silence.

  “I got your message.”

  “I told you I would come see you.”

  Heather smiled, but it was more wry than amused. She took Charli’s hand and squeezed. “Took long enough.”

  Charli barked a hyena-laugh. Heather joined in for a moment, but the radiating pain in her torso stopped her. They fell back into silence, picking at their food.

  “You know,” Charli said after a few minutes, “I’m really glad you’re here.”

  Heather raised a brow.

  “I mean, I’m glad you’re still here. I’m glad you’re still alive.”

  Heather stilled. She swallowed hard. “I’m not.” Charli frowned. Heather nibbled on a carrot and shrugged. “My sole purpose right now is to wait. Sure, I’m angry and I want revenge, but really my existence is to survive in order to be useful to others: to provide information that might lead to an arrest, to give positive identification, then to testify in court. But I’d really prefer that not be my life. I’d prefer not to be here at all anymore.”

  Charli blinked at her. Heather’s face burned. “I’m sorry, I’m being selfish.”

  “No, that’s… that’s OK; I understand, but it’s not always going to be like that.”

  “I try to keep that in mind, but… he… keeps showing back up. As soon as I start feeling better, I see his face or hear his voice, and here I am again.”

  She attempted to focus back on her food, but her throat was tight. She buried the ends of her chopsticks in the noodles. Charli reached over and took her free hand.

  “It won’t be like this much longer, Heather. And you’re not… You’re existence is not solely for others. You are not alone. We want you safe and happy, because we love you.”

  Heather shook her head. “I never want to hear those words again.”

  7

  06 June

  Tuesday

  The fishing poles stood forgotten, wiggling and dipping every once in a while. The rented canoe floated lazily near the center of the lake. From where Sergeant Young and Officer Byron sat in law chairs set up on the shore, they could see the torn knees of Heather’s jeans and a shock of purple hair, but not much else of the canoe’s occupants.

  Young patted the stock of the rifle sitting across her lap. “I feel like an old man, supervising his daughter on a first date.”

  Byron chuckled. “I don’t think it’s gonna get that bad, but under any other circumstances, I wouldn’t put it past Charli to try.”

  “Howdy, folks.”

  Byron and Young twisted toward the new voice. Deputy Thrace, thumbs tucked into his duty belt, sauntered alongside their chairs.

  “Well, good morning, deputy!” Young said. “I must say, purple really is your color.”

  “Ain’t it just?” Thrace raised his aviator sunglasses to show off his shiners, then sat on the ground near Byron’s chair. He raised his hand to pull his glasses back down, but paused to study the boat. “Now, I don’t know much about fishin’, but that doesn’t seem like a very efficient method.”

  Byron chuckled. “Heather’s shoulder’s bad, so I think she realized she wouldn’t be able to reel anything in. She showed Charli how to tie a hook, bait, and case, but they’ve just been hangin’ out for a while.”

  “Well, good. That’s good. Good to hear.”

  Confused by the disdain in Thrace’s voice, Byron frowned.

  “Speakin’ of ‘hangin’’ out.’” Young lowered her voice as if their ward could hear, “is it true Heather and Monica had a thing goin’ on?”

/>   Byron sighed and shook his head. “I hear somethin’ like that, but…” He shrugged.

  “You think Heather and Charline’re ‘hangin’ out’?” Thrace made air quotes.

  “It’s Charli,” Byron said.

  “Charli is a boy’s name.” Thrace shifted and ran his hands over his pockets as if checking for something. Not finding it, he began to chew his cuticles.

  Byron scoffed. “I would pay you twenty bucks to tell her that to her face.”

  Snickering, Thrace shook his head. “Oh, hell naw. I’ve been beat up by girls enough over the past few weeks. This is me, takin’ a break.”

  “Anyway…” Byron tapped Young’s arm. “I doubt Heather and Charli have anything going on. She stayed at Heather’s late last night watchin’ a Disney marathon and drivin’ Grandpa Tech nuts, but she slept at her mom’s house… Charli did.”

  “Huh.” Thrace nodded slowly.

  “Yeah, Heather’s been, you know… baggy t-shirts and jumping whenever someone brushes past her. I don’t think she’s ready for that quite yet, even from another female.”

  Young’s phone buzzed. “It’s Agent Remington.”

  “Agent Hotpants,” Thrace snickered, nudging Byron’s leg. Byron’s face burned.

  “Oh, yeah, we’re just out here by the lake. Y’all should come on over.”

  “And with that… I’m out.” Thrace stood and brushed the pine straw and sand off his slacks. “The last thing I need right now is Agent Hotpants showing up… all hot and wearing pants.”

  Byron doubled-over, trying not to laugh loud enough for Remington to hear him over the phone. Thrace waved at Young and squeezed Byron’s shoulder. The sand crunched under his boots as he made his way toward the parking lot. For a moment, that was the only sound competing with the lapping water and the gentle breeze.

  A cracking blast echoed over the lake, followed by screams. Byron and Young dove from their chairs. He could feel the reverberation in his chest. Thrace, the only other person who might have had a shotgun, dove between the nearest vehicles, hands covering his head. Young pointed the rifle toward the opposite shore, but no one was visible among the dense pines.

  The bottom of the canoe bobbed in the middle of the lake.

  “The fuck is that all about?” Thrace screamed.

  Byron furrowed his brow and grabbed his radio. “This is Officer Byron at Lake Cheatham, near Lot D. Shots fired. I repeat, shots fired.”

  “Do you have eyes on Heather?” Young said, sweeping the gun across the shoreline.

  Byron held his breath, forcing himself to focus on the canoe. The water rippled around it, but he couldn’t see through the water to see if the girls were safe underneath it.

  “I do not!”

  ****

  Heather laid lengthwise across the bottom of the boat, legs propped on the edge, head on Charli’s lap. Charli lay perpendicular, shoulders resting against one side, legs slung over the side opposite. She had been talking about the flight she had the next day to Venice, for a study abroad program, but they had fallen silent.

  Heather was just beginning to feel normal. She opened her mouth to tell Charli as much, but—

  BOOM!

  She shrieked and rolled. Charli gave a scream and pitched forward. The world turned upside-down in a flash of color, and they hit the cold water.

  Pain filled Heather’s body as every muscle worked to get her back to the surface.

  “Heather? Heather!”

  Charli paddled frantically a few feet away. Heather knocked her shoulder against the boat as she came up, causing a blinding flash of pain. She reached out and pulled Charli toward her.

  “Get under!”

  They dipped below the surface and rose slowly under the shell of the canoe.

  “Heather—”

  “Shh!”

  “Oh, God…”

  Treading water caused searing pain to radiate around Heather’s torso. Every time she stopped, the relief came instantly, but she would sink. She attempted to reach her good arm up and grab the seat nearest her, but it felt like the muscles around her ribs were tearing. She let go with a cry of pain.

  “Heather?”

  She just needed to stop moving. “Stay here. Don’t move until someone comes.”

  “Heather?” Her voice grew panicked.

  Taking a deep, painful breath, Heather stopped moving and sank below the surface. She drifted slowly. The pain faded with every inch, but her lungs ached for air. As soon as I touch the ground, I can come back up and start again. She kept expecting to hit the soft silt of the lake bottom, but it never came.

  She heard voices above her, one deep, one high.

  It’s time to go back up now.

  But she didn’t want to move. Her lungs screamed for air, but it felt like her limbs were frozen.

  The voices faded.

  You should take a breath now. It’s OK. It’ll work. Heather wanted to shake her head, but it didn’t work. The bottom should be there any second… Then you can go.

  Hands grabbed her. Strong arms wrapped around her body. She opened her mouth to scream, and water filled her lungs. Water rushed around her as they shot back toward the surface. As soon as her head broke free, she choked and gasped, vomiting water. Pain racked her once more.

  “Heather?” Byron’s voice came from the opposite end of the canoe, with Charli’s crying in-between.

  She coughed. “Yeah?”

  “Are you OK?”

  “No!”

  “Are you hit?”

  “No.”

  Soft murmuring. Water sloshing. Byron’s voice came closer. “I got her, man.” Another pain of hands on her, taking her hips. “Heather, put your arms around my neck. Get on my back.”

  The first set of hands, just under her arms, helped her stay afloat as Byron turned his back to her. She hugged her left arm to her chest and wrapped her right around his shoulders. The hands disappeared.

  “You get Charli,” Byron said. He lifted the edge of the canoe and pushed away from it.

  “Can you swim?” a vaguely familiar voice asked softly.

  “Uh-huh,” Charli replied.

  “I’ll meet y’all back on shore. I’m gotta go see who’s shootin’ at you.”

  “He’ll kill you!” Heather screamed.

  “Oh, no… No one’s gonna kill me.”

  ****

  Heather’s stomach wouldn’t settle down, even with her and Charli wrapped in blankets in the back of Young’s Jeep Wrangler. The doors were wide open to let out the summer heat, but the girls were still shivering. A few parking spots down, a Park Services vehicle sat with all doors shut, windows slightly cracked, and two spotty-faced young men sitting in the back seat. Their 12-guage shotgun laid across the trunk of the car.

  They kept their heads down, too ashamed to meet Heather’s eyes.

  Standing around the shotgun, Steyer, a park ranger, and Young compared notes.

  “And where did Deputy Thrace go after Officer Byron retrieved the girls?” Steyer asked.

  “In the woods to look for these fellas,” Young replied. “He may still be out there lookin’ for shells.”

  “OK, I think we have everything we need.” Steyer turned to the ranger. The ranger nodded and popped open the back door of his vehicle. The young men looked up, eyes full of fear and shame.

  “I know y’all think this was all just fun an’ games, but it wasn’t. These young ladies have decided not to press any additional charges, but you still got quite a laundry list here: discharging a gun within 50 yards of a public street, discharging a gun while under the influence of alcohol, using a weapon in a way that disregards the safety of another… These are all misdemeanors. Where you went wrong was handing the gun to your brother and evading arrest. That’s a felony; your brother’s seventeen.”

  Heather sighed and leaned her head back. Beside her, Charli had made herself small, staring blankly before her.

  “You OK?”

  She opened her mouth and
let out a rattling breath. “Heather…”

  Heather frowned at her tone.

  “I am going to Italy tomorrow, but… just say the word, and I’ll stay here with you.”

  She shook her head and straightened. “It is not safe here with me. If you stayed, you would die.”

  “It wasn’t him.”

  “It might have been. Next time, it will be.”

  “I would stay here for you.”

  Heather shook her head again. “No, Charli. I know you think that, but you have no idea what you could be getting yourself into.”

  “I don’t care.”

  Heather turned to watch the officers mill about the parking lot, the danger—at least for them—past. She wasn’t about to allow one of her only surviving friends suffer her fate. “Charli, I love you, but not like that.”

  “You don’t have to.”

  Running her tongue over her teeth, Heather shook her head. “You need to go.”

  “Don’t say that.”

  Her throat was tight. She nodded. Charli stared at her, eyes full of hurt and disbelief, but Heather insisted. “I really appreciate you coming up and visiting before your trip, but I really need to go home, take my meds, and get some sleep.” Heather refused to meet her eyes.

  Charli took a deep breath and pulled the blanket from her shoulders. Leaning forward, she kissed Heather’s forehead. Heather closed her eyes. Tears fell as she listened to Charli climb out of the Jeep and a quick exchange with Young and Steyer, asking for permission to leave.

  “Heather!” Charli called as she made her way toward her car. “Nolite te bastardes carborundorum!”

  Snorting, Heather smiled painfully and sank down across the back seat.

  “I really wish you would go to the hospital,” Steyer said.

  “I will if my pain is worse when I wake up, I promise.” Heather, now showered and medicated, took a seat on the couch and pulled a heavy blanket toward her.

  Steyer placed a hand to his chest, then extracted a buzzing phone. He dismissed it. “I’ll call them back.”

  Remington, looking oddly over-dressed, had arrived at the house just before Young and Byron returned with Heather half-asleep in the back. Having not been at the lake to see the absurdity of the real situation, he crossed the lawn as if his head were on a swivel, keeping an eye out for any possible threat. He walked Heather to the front door with an arm over her shoulder.