What She Never Said

by Catharine Riggs

  “I’m sure you can figure that out.”

  “I’ll try . . .”

  I can’t hold back my exasperated sigh. “Remember, you’re not doing this for me. You’re doing it to help your son.”

  “I know that . . . and I do appreciate your support of Adam.”

  “Thanks. But it’s nothing out of the ordinary. It’s what friends do. They help each other.”

  Her frown returns. “Are you referring to Carlyn?”

  “Of course I am.” I don’t wait for her response. I just turn and hobble down the hallway.

  My God, she’s dense, Tina says. How can she see everyone else’s faults but not spot a glimmer of her own?

  I give my head a hard knock and blast through the outside entrance. I’ve had more than my fill of nagging women today.

  Two

  Tuesday, September 10

  “How much farther?” Adam calls from behind.

  “Maybe a mile.”

  “Shit. That’s a long way.”

  “It’s not that far.” But my knee begs to differ. Should we turn and head home?

  I’m on a morning hike with Adam up Rattlesnake Canyon, a steep three-mile trail that winds along a rock-strewn creek and emerges near the top of Gibraltar Road. If we can reach the end, we’ll have a view of the coastline from wild Gaviota to sweet little Carp. But my knee is screaming stupid, and there’s little chance we’ll achieve my goal. Why I thought I could do such a thing, I honestly don’t know. Guess my good memories blinded my better sense.

  Years ago, Tina and I often hiked Rattlesnake, mostly in the spring when the creek was flowing and the wildflowers bloomed in brilliant hues. But today, in deep summer, there’s not a single flower in sight, and the bushes are crackling dry. Still, there’s a kind of beauty out here. I like how the charred remains of old trees point their blackened branches toward the heavens.

  I haven’t been on this trail since before Hunter’s death. Hard to believe it’s been that long. I remember there was a fairly short jaunt to a pretty meadow where Tina and I liked to picnic. But we’ve been hiking for over an hour now, and there’s no pretty meadow in sight. And with each new step, my knee rebels with a fiery zap to the joint. I thought my old knee brace might give me enough support, but I was totally wrong. I also thought this might be a good way to get Adam to open up about his life, but he’s not too pleased by the climb.

  “Water break?” he calls from behind. He sounds out of breath.

  “Sure.” I settle against a granite boulder that rests in the shade of a twisted oak. It’s still early, and the edges of the grayish-blue sky are rimmed in waves of pink. I inhale the scent of heather and sage and something that smells like curry. A rabbit scurries into the bushes; a hawk soars overhead.

  “Isn’t this great?” I ask Adam. He’s dressed in baggy shorts and a ripped T-shirt like he was planning to spend the day at the beach. His ratty Converse may look hipster cool, but their soles can’t offer much of a grip.

  “I guess.”

  “You been before?”

  He nervously runs a hand though his shaggy hair. “Not since I was a kid. Hiking’s not my thing.” He pulls a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and offers me a smoke. I’m about to wave him off, but then I shrug.

  “Sure. Why not.” I work at sounding jokey. “But don’t tell your mom. She thinks I quit.”

  He snorts. “As long as you don’t tell her I started. She’d be pissed with both of us.”

  We puff in silence, and I try to relax into the view. If only my knee would quit throbbing. “How’s the new job?” I ask after a while.

  Adam exhales long and slow, threads of smoke curling around his head. “Better than binge-watching some stupid show on TV. Good thing is I’m not just washing dishes. They got me chopping stuff.”

  “You like that?”

  He nods. “I always liked helping in the kitchen, even when I was a kid.” He glances at me sideways. “Might try to work up to chef.”

  “That’s a great idea.”

  “Don’t sound so excited.”

  “I’m not excited.”

  “I’m not a total loser, you know. I’ll figure out my life.”

  “I know that.”

  “Just got to get this court date behind me.”

  I choose my next words carefully. The kid wears defensiveness like a coat. “How’d it go with the lawyer?”

  Adam shrugs. “Fine, I guess. He thinks he can get the felony reduced to a misdemeanor as long as I don’t get into trouble.”

  “How does he define trouble?”

  “I can’t get picked up by the police for anything. Even a speeding ticket might screw things up. But mainly I’ve gotta stay away from Nikki. She took out a restraining order.” He pauses before saying the next words. “Can’t believe she says I hit her.”

  “But you didn’t.”

  “Hell no. I mean, I might’ve pushed her a little. I was heading for the door, and she blocked my way.”

  His words make me flash back on all the domestics I handled during my long-ago detective years. But he’s not like one of those men, is he? The kind who hits and lies? “So what’s going to happen with you two?”

  “Nothing. Nikki’s moved in with some fried-out tweaker. Creepy guy. I don’t want to have anything to do with her. Filing papers as soon as I can.”

  “I’m sorry about that.”

  “No big deal. Things just didn’t work out, that’s all.”

  I gaze at him long and hard. For all his tough-guy demeanor, I can hear the sadness in his voice. Makes me sick to think I might be the source of his problems. If only . . .

  Tell him, Tina whispers. Come on. He needs to know.

  “Not now.”

  “Anyway,” Adam continues. “I appreciate you covering the lawyer. You know I’ll pay you back.”

  “I’m not worried about that.”

  He clears his throat. “You think . . . you think you would’ve started drinking if it hadn’t been for . . . you know . . .”

  I work to keep my voice steady. “I’m not sure. Maybe the darkness was in me all along. Why?”

  He takes a moment to answer. “Just wondering . . . I mean . . . sometimes I wonder why I’m so fucked up . . . if I hadn’t . . . if I didn’t . . .”

  A knife cuts through my gut, causing a pain sharp and deep. “You’ve got to get over that, you know. It wasn’t your fault. You were just a kid.”

  “So you don’t blame me?”

  “Never have, never will.”

  “You mean that?”

  “Yeah. I do.” My gaze fixes on two shirtless men running up the trail. Triathletes from the look of them—slim, hard, and tan. They’re about the same age as Adam, but it’s as if they come from another world. I can’t see their eyes behind their razor-shaped sunglasses, but I’m sure as hell we’re being judged. Who comes up here to smoke cigarettes? Losers, that’s who.

  You’re not much of a role model, Tina says as the men run by.

  “Never said I was.” But I snuff out my cigarette anyway.

  “How come you’re always talking to yourself?” Adam asks.

  I shrug. “Guess it comes from living alone. Want to go on?”

  “Not really.” His eyes follow the backs of the runners. Frowning, he drops his cigarette and grinds it into the ground. “You?”

  “I think I’ve had enough.” There’s a lone hiker moving fast up the trail. Tiny, thin, and trim. I’m thinking that a girl shouldn’t be out hiking alone when I spy the familiar maze of scars. Jesus. Not here. Anxiety bubbles in my gut. “Let’s get going.”

  “Wait a sec.” Adam crouches to tie a shoelace.

  Damn. There’s no way around it. I’ll have to speak to her.

  Ember glides toward us with the smoothness of a lynx, her footing sure and quick. She’s dressed in black shorts and a sleeveless top, with a red baseball cap perched on her head. When she catches up to us, she pauses, and a smile lights her face. “Well, look who’s here
. Zach and . . .” She screws up her forehead to peer at Adam. “I’m sorry. I don’t believe we’ve met.” He gets to his feet, and she extends a slender hand, silver rings glinting in the sun. “I’m Ember.”

  Adam reaches out like it’s the first time he’s ever shaken a hand. “Adam,” he says with a nervous twitch. He must be spooked by her face.

  “Adam. Wow. My dad’s name is Adam.”

  “It’s kind of a common name.”

  “It’s a nice name.” She turns to me, and I shudder from my head to my toes. “Are you two related?” she asks.

  “Uh,” I glance at Adam. “No. He’s just a friend. Actually, he’s Ruth’s son.”

  “Ruth? From work?” She smiles at Adam. “She’s your mom? She’s great. I really like her. She’s so nice.”

  “You think my mom’s nice?” He seems surprised.

  “Very.”

  I feel the need to explain the relationship. “Ruth and Adam live next door. We’ve been neighbors for going on thirty years. Adam just started working the day shift at Serenity a couple of weeks ago.”

  “You did?” she claps her hands together like I’ve said the most exciting thing in the world. “That’s wonderful. I love it there. Where are you working?”

  “In the kitchen,” Adam mumbles. He looks as uncomfortable as I feel.

  “Which kitchen?”

  “Uh . . .” He glances at me.

  “He’s working in the cafeteria at the Champion’s Club.”

  “Champion’s Club? How lucky you are. The champions are the sweetest people. They bring joy to my heart every day.” She presses her hands to her heart. “I think of them as God’s little angels. It’s like they’re getting ready to return to heaven’s womb.”

  I stare at her, wondering if she’s a little off. How can anyone enjoy hanging around people who drool and can’t remember their kin?

  She reaches back and grabs a water bottle from her pack and takes a few gulps. “You hike this trail often?” she asks, wiping her lips with the back of her hand.

  “Every now and then,” Adam lies.

  “I’m surprised I’ve never seen you.”

  “We must come at different times.”

  She turns and regards the view. “I hike here at least once a week. I love it. It’s so peaceful, like you’ve traveled hundreds of miles from civilization, when in truth you’re only an hour’s walk from downtown.” She turns back to us. “Are you on your way up or down?”

  “Up,” says Adam at the same time I say “down.” I peer at Adam, confused. Did I hear him right? Ember looks from me to Adam and back again, and I work to clarify. “My knee’s acting up, so I’m heading down. And you, Adam . . . ?”

  “I’m going on.”

  “You are?”

  “Sure. Why not?”

  I shrug. Yes. Why not?

  Ember reaches around and pats her backpack. “I brought some hot tea and granola bars. I was going to have a minipicnic at the meadow. I’d be happy to share.”

  “Sure.” Adam glances at me. “You don’t mind, do you?”

  “Of course not. You two go ahead.” I turn and stumble my way down the trail, thinking that if Ember’s a lynx, I’m a three-legged elephant. I make it about twenty yards before I trip on a root. Luckily, I right myself before I hit the ground, but still, it feels like an ice pick skewers my knee. I moan and look up the trail where Ember and Adam are moving along. I get up and take a step and almost trip again.

  Why so nervous? Tina asks.

  “You know why.”

  She’s such a pretty girl, but that terrible burn . . . of course, who am I to talk? After my accident, it wasn’t as if there was much left of my face, was there?

  “No, there wasn’t.”

  You shouldn’t have peeked, you know. That way you could’ve remembered me for my pretty younger self.

  “Stop it.”

  I’m just telling you the truth.

  “Go away.”

  Maybe you should tell Adam the truth and you’d be a happier man.

  “Shut up!” I slap the side of my head.

  You’re such a grouch this morning. You need to get more sleep.

  “And you need to crawl back into your cave.”

  That’s up to you, and you know it.

  “Leave me alone.”

  You shouldn’t speak to your wife that way.

  “You’re not my wife.”

  Then what am I?

  “I don’t know . . . you’re my . . . my crazy.”

  Hmm. Yes. Maybe you’re right. I’m your crazy. I’ll go away when you do the right thing.

  Three

  Wednesday, September 18

  I finish my cup of coffee and set it down in the kitchen sink. It’s just after four in the morning, and the Highlife’s early shift is straggling in—Latinos mostly with tired eyes and wide-mouthed yawns. “Hey there,” Pablo calls from across the darkened room. “How’s the big-time detective this morning? Solve any major crimes?” The amateur comedian laughs, and I can’t help but join in. It’s not like he’s an asshole. He’s an okay guy. He’s the morning sous chef and likes to start his days with a few jokes. How he figured out I’m an ex-detective, I’m not sure. But he might be part of the gossip train, and I’d like to take a ride on that.

  “Have a moment?” I ask once he’s done with his comedy routine. Ruth’s been bugging me about the Post-it Notes, but I’ve run into nothing but dead ends. So I thought I’d attack this a different way. Check out Panini’s doomsday club.

  “Sure,” Pablo says, grabbing a cup of coffee. “What’s up?”

  “You’ve been here a long time, right?”

  “Ten years.”

  “That’s what I thought.” I lean against the wall to give my aching knee a break. “Ever hear of something called the Goodnight Club?”

  He wrinkles his forehead in thought. “That some boring gringo movie?”

  “No. It’s a secret campus club. Maybe you’ve heard a guest mention the name?”

  He shakes his head. “Never heard nothing ’bout that.”

  “Would you mind asking around?”

  His brown eyes sparkle. “What’s in it for me?”

  “How about a beer?”

  “Craft beer?”

  “Yep.”

  “Sold.” He gulps down his coffee, and I turn to leave, but he stops me with a wave of his hand. “Wait up. Since you’re playing detective, why not check out some of the other shit going down?”

  “What kind of shit?”

  “Like how the new owners are trying to toss out the old people that got no money.”

  I act like it’s news to me. “Where’d you hear about that?”

  “Around. Thing is, they gotta be breaking some law.”

  “I can ask Ruth.”

  “Boss Ruth?” His smile disappears. “She a friend of yours?”

  I shift uncomfortably. “She hired me. Why?”

  “I’ll bet she’s in on it. The new management’s a bunch of cheap-ass liars. There’s a rumor they’ll be cutting our benefits soon.”

  I’m about to question him further when my cell phone lights up. Hell. It’s Adam. Kid’s worked here less than a month, so he better not be calling in sick. “I’ll catch you later.” I turn my back on Pablo and press my cell phone to my ear. “What’s up?”

  “Just got here and . . .”

  The tension in his voice gets my alarm bells ringing. “What is it?”

  “There’s a guy down. He’s hurt or something. I don’t know what to do.”

  I stumble out the kitchen door into the predawn gloom. “Is he breathing?” I bark into the phone.

  “I don’t think so . . . I don’t know. But . . . shit . . . there’s a lot of blood.”

  “Where are you?”

  “In the back of parking lot six.”

  Hell. “Stay put. I’ll be right there.” I head for the parking lot as fast as my busted knee will allow. It takes me five long minutes to limp to th
e backside of the campus, hurrying as fast as I can. I round the edge of the champion’s unit and head in the direction of a glowing cell phone.

  “Adam?”

  “Over here. Hurry.” I hobble to where he points at a shadowy figure splayed across the pavement. I light up the body with my flashlight and inhale a jagged breath.

  “Any idea who it is?” I ask.

  “No. But that’s blood, right?”

  “Yeah. That’s blood.” I run my flashlight across the stocky man dressed in a yellow uniform. Then I flash my light on Adam. He covers his eyes with his forearm.

  “You sure you don’t know him?” I watch for his reaction.

  “Should I?”

  “He’s wearing a nurse’s uniform. Ever see him around?”

  “Don’t think so.”

  I have, but I can’t recall his name. I crouch next to the body and examine the stream of dark liquid pooling around his head. I carefully reach for his neck. No sign of a pulse. I grab his limp wrist and try again.

  “Is he dead?” Adam asks.

  “Looks like it.”

  “But how . . . ?”

  “Give me a sec.”

  The rusty scent of blood creeps up my nose, reminding me of gory incidents in my past. I shine the light around the man’s neck and pause at a puncture wound. Looks like a stab to the carotid artery did him in. Even in the cool of the morning, my face begins to sweat. I scour the scene, but there’s no weapon in sight. I get to my feet.

  “He’s been stabbed.”

  “Holy shit.” Adam stumbles backward. “But who . . . ?”

  “How long you been here?” Dawn has broken, and it’s now light enough for me to study Adam’s face. He looks pale, nervous, tired, but not guilty. Thank God for that.

  “Maybe ten minutes max. I got out of my car and saw him and called you right away.”

  “Did you see anyone else?”

  “No.”

  “You sure?”

  “Yeah. Why you asking?”

  Why? Because I’ve put on my detective hat, and my mind has shifted into suspicious mode. If I look at this situation as an outsider, a dead nurse and an ex-druggie might suggest a drug deal gone bad. Adam glances at his cell phone.

  “I better go,” he says. “I’ll be late for my shift.”

  “You can’t leave. This is a crime scene.”