“Don’t call me that,” I snapped.
“I always thought you would show up eventually.”
A chill ran through me. That was what Hank said. I suddenly felt very hot, like the walls were closing in.
“What do you want from me?” he asked.
I took a shaking breath. “I want to find her.”
“Your mother?”
I nodded.
“Well I don’t know if you were following the story, but no one ever came forward.”
“But you must have some idea who it was.”
He shook his head. “Everyone guessed at who it could be, but no one ever figured it out.”
I stared at him, certain he knew more.
“Please,” I said.
He sighed again. “Well, there is one woman, but I don’t know for sure.”
“I’ll take whatever you have.”
***
Sheriff Eaton
“That’s messed up, Sheriff,” Deputy Fine said.
“You’re tellin’ me,” I replied, keeping my distance from the corpse in the truck. I made the mistake of getting too close when I arrived and the smell was indescribable.
“Well, he’s an out of towner. No wallet on him though. It looks like, I don’t know, maybe a lightning bolt hit him?”
“The body looks like it’s been lying out here for weeks.”
“Maybe he’s just…cooked?” Deputy Fine said.
The thought made his stomach turn, he would never enjoy barbecue again after this. The coroner could determine why the guy looked like he had been dug up after a month underground.
Hell, maybe he had!
The local football team had a reputation around these parts for extreme pranks. It was that Cody Reynolds, he always was a wrong ’un. He once mailed someone a dead cat, so this was right up his street. It didn’t explain the hole in the roof though, or who the truck belonged to.
Moving back to my cruiser, I leaned against it and pulled out a cigarette. I would have preferred a stiff drink, but that would have to wait until I was off duty.
As I took a drag of my cigarette, I noticed a group of ravens lined up across from the truck. They stood in a row, staring at the body.
That’s weird. Never seen birds do that.
Maybe they were hoping for scraps, like vultures. It was winter, maybe they were desperate for food or something.
“Hey, Sheriff. I found something.”
Deputy Fine came over carrying a yellow Walkman, kind of like the one my niece had permanently glued to her head. This one looked battered, with tape over the battery compartment and scrapes across the front of it.
“Maybe he liked music,” I said.
Deputy Fine popped it open and removed the tape. “Does he look like a Madonna fan to you?”
I supressed a laugh, no, I couldn’t imagine him listening to Madonna. “Bag it. Maybe he wasn’t alone.”
Three
Randall wanted a cigarette, so he led us outside, away from anyone who might be listening. We stood in the doorway to avoid the cold, I tried not to choke on the cigarette smoke.
“So, where’d you end up?” Randall asked.
“All over. Different foster homes until I turned eighteen.”
“I thought you would have gotten adopted. Most couples want babies, don’t they?”
I shrugged. “I guess I was one of the unlucky ones. You said you knew who my mother was?”
He took a drag of his cigarette. “I don’t know, not for sure.”
“But there’s someone?”
“You kind of look like her, right age, right time. So yeah, maybe.”
I was getting frustrated at his evasiveness. “Can you just tell me?”
“Calm down, you’ve waited this long.”
I glared at him.
“Okay, okay. Around the time you were found, a woman called Francesca Fisher was pregnant. She wasn’t married and no one knew who the father was. She tried to hide it for as long as she could. Then she left town. She was gone a couple of months, no one knew where she was. Then she came back, without a baby. Her story is, she went to her sister’s house, had the baby, a boy, she claims, and gave it to her sister to raise.”
“Any proof?”
“I tried to track the sister down but couldn’t. The Sheriff though, he says he spoke to her on the phone and everything seemed above board.”
“So, why do you still think it’s her?”
“Story didn’t add up. She’s lived here nearly thirty years, I don’t remember ever hearing anything about a sister.”
“That’s it? Let’s face it, I’m probably some teenage girl’s love child, who panicked when she gave birth and threw me away.”
“Maybe. But there is a hell of a resemblance and the dumpster where you were found? It belonged to the diner where she works.”
“Works?”
“Yeah, she’s still there. Probably working now.”
I swallowed hard. I could finally confront her. I’d been thinking about it for years, now it was a possibility and I found myself terrified.
“She’s a good woman,” Randall said.
That made it worse. I wanted her to be an awful person, how could she be anything else?
“Know her well, do you?”
“Well enough. The diner is called Sal’s. Nice to meet you.”
He headed back upstairs, leaving me alone.
Could I do it? I had to, right? Otherwise what was the point in coming here?
I’ll go to the diner and check her out. Then I can decide what to do.
Steeling myself, I headed further into town, searching for the diner. It was only when a cruiser passed me that I remembered Hank.
Crap.
If I went to the cops, they would interrogate me. They might think I had something to do with his death, hell, I could end up arrested. I didn’t get hurt and Hank had been stopped. That was really all that mattered. Better to keep my mouth shut, after all I didn’t need anyone looking into my background. They might find out what happened in Denver.
I made my way through town, trying to look as inconspicuous as possible. Of course, I drew people’s stares anyway. This was a small town and I was a stranger.
Technically, I was born here.
I couldn’t help but wonder what it would have been like to grow up here. Bouncing from foster home to foster home, I was never in one place long. I could have had a life here, in another universe. I would have gone to school at that elementary school over there and played in the park. I would have eaten in these restaurants, gone to that cinema on a Friday night. I would have had my first kiss here, graduated high school here...
I forced myself to stop thinking about it. There was no point in wishing for something I could never have. My mother saw to that.
Anger filled me again, pushing away the fear of seeing her. I was going to get some answers.
Sal’s was on the far side of town, a rundown 50’s style diner with a red sign out front. Come eat at Sal’s. Home of the best pancakes in the Midwest.
I checked my watch. It was mid-morning; the place would be quiet. I marched inside, ready to confront my alleged mother, but stopped short when I found that the place was crowded. An Elvis Presley song played on the jukebox in the corner, and I felt like I had gone back in time. The owner had gone all out on the theme.
When several people stared at me, I quickly took a seat at a table near the counter, hiding my face behind a menu. When I was sure no one was looking at me, I lowered the menu and scoped out the room. I could see two waitresses. One behind the counter, a blonde who was far too young to be her, and a woman with short dark hair on the far side of the room. I craned my neck, trying to get a better look at her.
She was busy chatting to a customer, I could only make out the side of her face. She looked about the right age. I tried to see myself in her. She kept shifting her weight back and forth, like she had a problem keeping still. I did that too.
“What
can I get you?” someone asked. I looked up to find a third waitress had arrived at my table. I opened my mouth to answer her, then I froze. The long dark hair, the brown eyes with flecks of gold… a quick glance at her name tag confirmed it. This was Francesca.
She looked concerned that I hadn’t answered her yet.
“I can come back,” she offered.
“Um. Yeah, I need a minute,” I stammered.
She gave me a smile and moved onto the next customer. I watched her go. This woman was all poise and elegance. The way she moved around the room, engaged with the customers. She had an easy smile for them and it seemed to be genuine.
I looked back down at the menu in my hand, the words blurring together. I was expecting some trailer trash bitch with no regard for anyone. Someone incapable of looking after herself, never mind a baby.
It probably isn’t her.
That was wishful thinking, it was obvious it was her, I was her double. Not so obvious to her though, she didn’t recognize me.
Why would she? She probably thinks I’m dead.
She made the rounds before returning to me. “Have you decided yet, hon?”
She had her pencil ready to jot down my order and again I froze. What the hell was wrong with me?
What am I supposed to say? Can I get eggs and a side of bacon, oh and did you abandon me nineteen years ago?
“Uh, coffee, please,” I said.
“Coming right up.”
I wanted to run after her, to demand answers, but I couldn’t move. When she returned with the coffee, I tried to take some money out of my pocket to pay but ended up spilling a bunch of coins onto the floor.
“Damn it,” I muttered, pushing back my chair to go after them.
Francesca knelt to help me. “You okay, hon? You seem flustered?” she asked.
I looked up at her. She seemed sincere in what she was asking, like she actually cared. It was too much.
“Um, where’s the restroom?” I asked.
She pointed toward the back and I practically ran across the diner. I slammed the restroom door open and hurried into a stall.
“Don’t freak out,” I whispered.
“Are you okay, sweetheart?”
Shit, she followed me.
“I’m fine. I’m just not feeling well,” I called.
“Can I get you something? A glass of water, maybe?”
“I’m fine. I just need a minute.”
Thankfully, she left me alone. I couldn’t stay here, I needed to leave and pull myself together. Then I could come up with a plan.
I left the stall and took a few deep breaths before returning to the diner. Just grab your bag and go.
As I walked back to my table, I could see Francesca talking to the Sheriff. They were deep in conversation. Glad that she was distracted, I lifted my backpack and headed for the door.
***
Sheriff Eaton
“A body?” Francesca said, frowning. “Is it someone local?”
“No, I don’t recognize him. Has anyone been in here? Anyone acting strange?”
“So this is a murder investigation?”
“Not necessarily. We think someone else might have been in the truck, just want to ask them some questions.”
“Well…there is a girl, she was in the bathroom, there she goes now,” Francesca said.
I turned to see a girl with dark hair hurry out of the diner. “She order anything?”
“A coffee, but she didn’t drink it.”
I sighed and hurried after her. She was a kid, but she was acting suspiciously. I’m the first to admit that I have a healthy dose of xenophobia, developed over the years, since back when I was a deputy, and with good reason.
“Hey! Miss? Excuse me?” I called out to the girl.
She stopped and glanced back at me. She looks like a teenager. Her crumpled clothes and backpack made me wonder if she was a drifter.
She eyed me with suspicion, her body still angled away from me like she was considering whether to run or not.
“You new in town?” I asked, trying to appear friendly. I really wasn’t up to chasing someone today. My knees wouldn’t take it.
“Uh, just passing through,” she said.
“You ran out of the diner awful quick. Did something happen?”
She shook her head, her dark curls bouncing. “No, I wasn’t feeling well. Think I’ll just take a walk.”
I moved forward slowly, so as not to spook her. “I was just wondering if you might have seen anything strange on the road into town?”
“Strange?” she asked, her eyes darting everywhere. I tensed, ready to run after her.
“Yes, a man was found dead in a truck. We’re looking for witnesses.”
She froze, eyes wide. Yep, she definitely knows something.
“I, uh, I don’t…”
“We found a Walkman in the truck. A yellow one.”
All the color drained from her face and she swayed on the spot. Worried she would faint, I took three steps forward and took her arm. I led her to a bench.
She sat down and put her head in her hands. I had doubts that she did anything to the man, but she was there, which meant I needed a statement.
“I’m Sheriff Bob Eaton. What’s your name?” I asked gently.
“Kari Green.”
“Well Kari, it looks like you’ve had a rough day. Do you want to tell me about it?”
She took a shaky breath and looked up at me. “I haven’t done anything wrong.”
“I didn’t say that you had. Come on, let’s go back into the diner and we can have a coffee and a chat, how does that sound?”
She nodded and followed me back inside. I gave our order to Francesca and we took a seat in the back, away from other diners. I noticed that Kari’s hands were shaking.
“What brings you to town, Kari?” I asked.
“I’m working as an intern at the paper.”
That surprised me. I knew they were taking on interns, but I thought it was local girls. “Okay. Were you in the truck earlier today?”
She stared at the table for several seconds then nodded. “Yes, I was hitchhiking. But I didn’t do anything to that guy, he was struck by lightning. It came through the roof.”
“Then why didn’t you report it? You just left him lying there? You didn’t think to call the police?”
She finally looked me in the eye. “He was crazy, saying crazy stuff and he was going to attack me. If the lightning hadn’t hit the truck, God knows what he would have done to me.”
“Do you know his name?”
“He said it was Hank.”
That wasn’t a lot to go on. Once the plates were run, it would shed some light on the matter.
“I will need you to come into the station for an official statement. Do you have any family around here?”
I saw her glance across the room, then back at me. “No. I don’t have any family.”
“No one at all?”
She shook her head.
Her story didn’t fully add up, who travelled to a strange town for an internship? She had no family, where was she staying? Where was she getting money from?
“I need an address where I can reach you,” I said, taking out my notebook to write it down.
“I don’t have a place yet. I was going to see if there was a room in town?”
“There’s a woman called Jean, up on Oak Street. She runs a bed and breakfast. I can draw you a map?”
“Yes, please,” she said.
I scribbled a rough map and tore out the page and handed it to her. “Can I trust that you’ll stick around? At least until this matter is resolved?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Welcome to Redwood Cove.”
Four
It took a while to find the bed and breakfast, Sheriff Eaton’s drawing skills needed some work. He seemed like a nice man, but one conversation proved nothing. Hank seemed nice at first too.
I would get a room, but I didn’t know how muc
h longer I would be staying. I wasn’t going to end up in jail that’s for sure.
Jean answered the door to me. She was a small woman with gray hair. “Yes?” she asked.
“Hi, I was told that you have rooms available?”
“Who told you that?” she said, scowling.
“Sheriff Eaton.”
“Bob!” I’ve never seen a face change expression so fast. She threw open the door. “Well why didn’t you say so. Come on in.”
I got the feeling that Jean had a little crush on Bob. “What’s your name, dear?”
“Kari. I was just looking for a room for the night.”
“Of course. It’s thirty per night, is that suitable.”
I nodded. I could at least afford that. Jean bustled over to a desk and opened a sign in book. She went through the usual pleasantries, why are you in town, where are you from? I kept my answers short. I wasn’t in the mood to be questioned again, I just wanted to be on my own for a while.
When she showed me to my room, I felt relief wash over me as I finally closed the door after she told me to come find her if I needed anything.
I sank down onto the bed, feeling exhausted and it was barely lunch time. Everything that had happened today threatened to overwhelm me.
I lay down, staring up at the cracked ceiling. My mind whirled with images of Hank and of the man from Denver. Two men dead. Two men that had run ins with me. I didn’t want to steal the money, I didn’t have a choice. I was hungry and desperate.
It was a few weeks ago, I arrived in Denver and I knew that I wouldn’t get much further. I started looking for a job. The only place that I could find that was hiring was a restaurant called The Lakeside Grill. It was an upmarket place and the man in charge, Mr. Graham, looked down his nose at me.
“You’re not really suitable for waiting tables,” he said.
I felt my cheeks flame with embarrassment. “Please, I’m happy to help out in the kitchen. I really need the money.”
He sniffed, his blue eyes narrowing. “You will clean the dishes. We are fully booked tonight, and I need someone who is quick on their feet.”
I nodded. “Yes, I can do that. No problem, Mr. Graham.”
And so, I began a gruelling eight hour shift. The kitchen was crowded, noisy and really hot. People kept bumping into me as they moved back and forth and the dishes came in fast. I managed to stay on top of it though and at the end of the night, Mr. Graham came in to inspect my work.
Daughter of Odin Page 2