by Katie Tallo
Augusta strains against the pressure building behind her eyeballs and ripping at her gut as the truth burrows into the pit of her stomach, then slowly rises up her throat.
“Cuppa coffee, Little Monet?”
She can’t speak. A scream might burst out if she tries.
Gus rises, her chair tumbling backward. Levi comes into the kitchen as she grabs her satchel. Sleepy-eyed, Rory reaches a hand out, but she pushes past him and heads out the screen door, leaving it wide open. He calls out as Levi races past him and out the door after her.
“She was not in her right mind, you know. Never got the help she needed.”
Gus crosses the porch praying that he’ll stop talking.
“If you want to hear everything, you have to hear this. She had thoughts.”
Gus spins around. Rory stands on the other side of the screen, his face distorted through the mesh.
“She sometimes said she didn’t care if she lived or died. She wanted to care. Care for you.”
Augusta trips over Levi and nearly falls off the edge of the porch. She turns away from Rory. Stumbles down the stairs. He has to be lying.
Gus staggers toward the Buick. She doesn’t want him to utter another word. She can hear the squeak of the planks as he crosses the porch. She searches her pockets for her keys, then tries her satchel. Damn it. She left them on the table. She looks over and Rory’s got the keys in his hand.
“I was trying to spare you this pain, Little Monet. That’s why I didn’t tell you before.”
Gus walks over and reaches out for her keys. Feeling like she’s being held hostage. Feeling out of control of her own destiny. Feeling alone. He doesn’t hand her the keys. Instead he meets her gaze and holds it. Then he delivers the final blow.
“The call came over the radio. Someone saw a vehicle go in the lake by Bruce Pit. I got there before paramedics or the police so it was me who pulled her out. But I was too late. She was gone. There were no skid marks. She never hit the brakes. Shan drove straight into that lake like she meant to. Like she couldn’t live with what she’d done.”
Augusta’s heart sinks. Rory looks like he wants to eat his words. He tosses her the keys and Augusta lurches for the car. Opens the door. Levi jumps in and so does she. Gus turns over the engine and guns it down the driveway. The Buick kicks up a cloud of gravel as she peels out onto the main road, nearly sideswiping a car coming the opposite direction.
A long horn blast sends her speeding away.
Gripping the steering wheel tight so she doesn’t hurtle into oblivion.
25
Good Dog
BACK HOME, GUS PARKS IN THE GARAGE. SHE SITS IN THE car, in the darkness, very still until Levi whines. Gus slowly gets out, her mind blank. She enters the kitchen. Drops her satchel on the table. Levi follows but stops in the doorway.
“What? Hungry?”
As she’s pouring kibble into his bowl, she notices the back door. It’s wide open. Her heart skips a beat. Her mind skitters back in time. Did she forget to close it this morning after Levi went outside for his pee? Yes. She was so focused on Rory, she just took off. She relaxes. Regretting the entire expedition out to Kemptville.
Gus fills Levi’s bowl and then stands aside and waits. He doesn’t move.
“Okay. Eat.”
The dog has never refused a meal in his life. He’s not himself. Maybe his belly’s off because of the early morning car ride. Hers sure is. Augusta stands by the open back door and breathes in the fresh air. She can’t even stomach the thought of coffee. Needs to dull her senses, not wake them up. Gus leaves the back door open for the dog and wanders into the dining room. She checks Rose’s liquor cabinet. She finds a tall bottle of something called limoncello. She grabs it. Through the clear bottle, she can see a thick yellow liqueur. She takes a swig. Tastes like lemon meringue pie. Yum. She goes into the living room and plunks down on the sofa. Levi slinks into the room. Head low, tail tucked, as if he’s done something bad.
“What’d ya do, dog? I’m not in the mood.”
Then Levi lifts one ear and looks over his shoulder toward the stairs.
Midgulp, she hears it too.
A floorboard creaks above them.
Gus feels all the blood in her body rush directly to her brain, leaving her heart to fend for itself, beating so fast it’s pushing against her ribs.
Someone’s in the house.
And she’s pretty sure she knows who that someone is. She’d forgotten all about the text that nearly gave her away at the retirement home. The one from Lars.
You think I don’t know where you are? Think again. I’m coming for you, Auggie.
She shudders. He wasn’t joking. He’s come for her.
Augusta rises and carefully tiptoes into the dining room and through to the kitchen. She reaches into her satchel for Rose’s gun. It’s not there. Then she remembers. She left it on the table in the front foyer the day before. Gus peeks down the long hallway toward the table. The gun’s not there. Another creak. She can’t think. Run or hide? He’s likely got the gun, so running is out. She can’t risk Levi getting shot in the cross fire.
Gus scans the kitchen and grabs the first thing she can find that looks like a weapon. A cast-iron frying pan hanging next to the stove. She slips into the pantry. Levi follows. She gently closes the door. They wait. A low growl rumbles in Levi’s throat. Augusta taps his nose. He stops growling. She pets his head.
Light footfalls pad down the stairs above the pantry. He’s coming. She grips the frying pan tighter. Then the front door slams. She presses her ear to the pantry door but has a hard time hearing anything except the blood surging through her eardrums like ocean waves.
Augusta counts to fifty before easing the door open. She crosses the kitchen and inches down the hallway, holding the pan over one shoulder like a baseball bat. Levi cowers in the pantry, lowering himself to the floor slowly. He’s not budging. She moves down the hall, glancing up the stairs through the banister. Gus approaches the front door. Leans toward the peephole. Nothing but a Camaro parked across the street. But no Lars. Damn. Her knees weaken at the sight of Lars’s car. She was so wrapped up in what Rory had told her about Shannon that she hadn’t even noticed it was parked across the street when she had gotten home. Her grip on the frying pan falters as her palms grow sweaty. Levi growls from the far end of the hall. She turns, knowing they should have stayed hidden.
Lars is standing in the entryway to the living room.
“Not too shabby.”
His voice sends a chill down her spine. He looks around the house like he’s a prospective buyer appraising the property. The little scar on his upper lip, the one he got in a knife fight at a strip club in Toronto, quivers ever so slightly.
Gus tries to stop the frying pan from vibrating, grasping it tighter with both hands. He taps his leg with something. Rose’s gun. Lars smiles, but not a smile that says, Hey baby I’m so glad I found you, but more like, Hey baby you’re fuckin’ dead.
“No kiss goodbye?”
“My great-grandma died.”
“Fingers broken? Couldn’t shoot me a text?”
“I meant to. I’ve been taking care of things.”
“I don’t care that you stole money outta my wallet like I was some mark.”
“I needed to get home.”
“Home?”
He laughs and twirls the gun on one finger. Augusta can feel his temper bubbling to a boil. She slowly lowers the frying pan, hoping to defuse his anger. She jumps when he speaks.
“See, what I do care about is what you been up to since you left.”
“I told you. My great-grandmother . . .”
He cuts her off by raising the gun. Steps toward her. Levi growls.
“Don’t fuck with me, Auggie. That phone I gave you? I installed this little app on it that lets me know exactly where you are at all times. I did it ’cause I wanted you to be safe. But now I see you’ve been busy, as you say, taking care of things. All over the county
in fact. Up and down the 15. Over in Brockville. Funny how that’s right along our old 401 route. Co-in-kee-dink? I don’t fucking think so. You’ve been setting up your own thing? Who you been working with? That fucker Ozzy down in Prescott?”
In spite of her fear, Gus rolls her eyes. Can’t believe he thinks she’s been masterminding some criminal takeover. She almost bursts into hysterical laughter. Why did she waste so much of her life on this moron?
“Jesus, Lars. Don’t be an idiot.”
Poor choice of words. His chin quivers. Even though she’s expecting it, he lunges suddenly. She flings the frying pan at him. It misses, crashing to the floor with a brassy clatter. He grabs for her arm and she manages to twist free and spin past him. Tries to scramble up the stairs, but he’s on her fast. Grabs a handful of her red hair. Hauls her neck backward and pulls her onto her back down the stairs. She twists and claws for the banister before landing with a thump at the bottom. Straddling her chest and arms, Lars raises a fist, greasy strands of hair dangling at his cheeks. She closes her eyes.
Instead of a punch to the face, she feels a light dusting of fur on her cheek and opens her eyes to see Levi body-slam Lars. Levi rolls into the living room. Lars topples sideways into the hall mirror. It shatters, showering him with glass. He drops the gun. Levi scrambles to his feet, eyes wild. Gus feels a surge of mama pride well up inside her as Levi goes for his leg. Clamps his jaw around Lars’s kneecap and shakes like he did her duffel bag strap. Only this time there’s blood and high-pitched screaming.
Lars tries to break free by punching Levi on top of the head. Gus sees red. The dog yelps and lets go, but stands his ground. Teeth barred, frothy blood dripping from his curled gums. Augusta grabs the gun and races to Levi’s side as Lars yanks a shard of mirror out of the back of his hand and pulls himself to his feet.
Despite her racing heart, Augusta steadies her breath as she points the gun at Lars, one hand reaching down to touch Levi’s head to make sure he’s not injured. He licks her hand. The fear fizzles out of her bones. Her shoulders release. Jaw loosens. She empties. Clears space. Allows herself to see him through Shannon’s eyes.
“I’m done with your shit, Lars. Done with you. I’m living here now. And if you want to know the truth, my parents don’t live in Vancouver. They’re dead. I’ve been looking into how my mother died. That’s what I’ve been busy taking care of. So I’m only gonna say this once. I’m not coming back to you. Ever.”
“I thought you said your great-grandmother died.”
“Get the fuck out.”
Blood soaking through his jeans and dripping from his fingertips, Lars tries to stare her down. But she holds his gaze. She wants him to see what’s in her eyes. It’s not something he’s seen there before. An unwavering loveless stare that bores straight into his soul. Usually she looks away or softens. But not this time. Not now. Something’s changed. There’s a confidence lurking deep inside those black pupils of hers. She means what she says.
Lars fakes like he’s coming at her, then pulls up. She doesn’t flinch. He mutters under his breath, flips his greasy hair, and smooths it into place.
“Fuckin’ mutt should be put down.”
Then he slowly turns to leave, moving as casually as his injured knee will allow. He swaggers down the steps, leaving the door wide open. Halfway down the front path, Lars turns to look at her. His voice cracks a little as he attempts to sound tough.
“You’re nothing without me and you know it. You’ll see.”
Augusta kicks the door shut, latches the dead bolt, then leans her back against the door. Relief washing over her, she stays very still until her heart steadies and her breathing returns to normal. She listens as his Camaro pulls away from the curb. Lars honks twice like he’s going out for groceries. She sinks to the floor, realizing she’s completely drained.
Levi ambles over to her. He stares at her with wide adoring eyes. His expression says it all. He will, unquestioningly and without hesitation, do anything for her. She is overwhelmed by the pure love she feels for this creature as she gently pets the top of his furry head and pulls him close. He is hers. And she is his. He licks her cheek.
“Good dog.”
Then she remembers Rose’s money. Augusta runs upstairs to Rose’s room and races to the closet. She flips through Rose’s sweaters and dresses until she finds the plastic garment bag at the back of the closet. She checks inside. The money’s all there. Lars didn’t find it. She decides she needs a better hiding place for all this money. She finds one in the trunk of Rose’s Buick. She stuffs the garment bag inside the Buick’s spare tire, then pulls the tight vinyl cover over it before laying it back in the wheel well under the carpet. Perfect.
Fifteen minutes later, she gets a text message from Lars.
It’s a photo of his penis.
And that does it. After making sure Levi eats something and double-checking all the locks in the house, Augusta heads to the mall with a wad of Rose’s cash in her back pocket. She walks west. Down Richmond Road to Carlingwood Mall. At the Telus store, she buys herself a new phone and asks the sales guy if he can put all the photos from her old phone onto her new one. He says it’s no problem.
The sales guy is in his early twenties. Wears a starched, green polo shirt bearing a Telus logo, but somehow he manages to look cool despite the corporate uniform. Might be the small nose ring or the way his hair is slicked over his head revealing a closely shaved underside. He talks superfast and asks a million questions and has a million special deals. No. She won’t be keeping her old phone number. No. She doesn’t want a data plan. She’s used to not having one. Lars only gave her a phone so he could always reach her. And track her movements apparently. She opts for what she’s always had. A text and talk plan only. Mr. Cool tells her that she has to have data if she wants to use the phone’s GPS or apps like Snapchat or WhatsApp or Tinder or post her pics on Instagram. Gus tells him she doesn’t want to do any of those things. No apps. And she doesn’t need GPS. She has a map. He smiles.
“Off the grid. I like it.”
Gus doesn’t know what he means. He tells her his grandfather is off the grid. Helpful. She’s like an old man. The rep says she can always come back and add a data plan if she changes her mind. She nods, knowing she won’t.
“For now, you can text, call, and take photos. But you can’t share them. Cool?”
Gus feels anything but cool. She’s not like people her own age and being around a contemporary who is übercool just makes her feel all the more irrelevant and out of touch and odd. She wishes he’d just wrap it up. Instead he’s checking out her ball cap.
“Retro.”
Once she’s paid, she can’t get out of the mall fast enough and hopes never to step foot in there again. Too many kids her age wearing clothes she doesn’t wear and using words she’s never uttered in her life. Like Snapchat and Tinder. She feels like she’s back in high school when everyone thought she was weird for not being on Facebook.
Gus had always gravitated toward a sort of no-man’s-land back then. Far from the popular circles. Well outside the in-crowd. Hoping no one would notice her clothes or her freckles or the color of her hair. She had this one homework buddy named Nigel who lived on the outside too, but mostly Gus kept to herself. The last thing fifteen-year-old Gus wanted to do was create a profile where she was supposed to share her past, her photos, her every fleeting thought and passing interest with all her friends. She didn’t have friends, and a running tally announcing that fact to the world would have been mortifying. Being invisible, even weird, felt safer.
Back home at Rose’s now feels safer too. Later that afternoon, after smashing her old phone with the cast-iron frying pan, Augusta plops down on the sofa across from Shannon’s empty wall. She texts her real estate agent, Haley-Anne, her new number. Time to list this old house. Now that Shannon’s wall is gone, there’s nothing holding her here except a looming mortgage debt. She also texts the new number to Annalee. Still no response to the mess
age she left her two days ago.
Levi pokes his head into the living room, then looks up at his leash hanging from the hall tree. She ignores him. Her bones are heavy, her head aches from where Lars yanked her hair. It seems like days since Rory’s bombshell about her mother, but it was just this morning. It’s been a long day. Levi’s walk can wait. She tips to one side and hits her head on the bottle of limoncello that she left on the sofa earlier. She sits back up and takes a long swig.
Levi hangs his head and eyeballs her sideways then slinks upstairs. She can hear the clicking of his nails down the hall, then the wincing of Rose’s bedsprings as he settles on the blanket. She can picture him curling himself in a tight ball, tail tucked over his nose and mouth for comfort. Augusta draws her knees to her chest, wishing her life was as simple as Levi’s. She takes another big gulp of Rose’s limoncello and listens to the whisperings coming from the wall. The soft sound of a woman’s voice singing along to the Four Tops and getting the words wrong.
Honey pie sugar bunch.
A woman’s laughter echoes down the empty hall, resounds through the kitchen, and rattles the windows of the old house. The day fades away as Gus empties the bottle and the shadows on the wall in front of her disappear as the room and her mind both dim.
Mercifully, Gus passes out.
26
Constable Lashey
A SHARP KNOCK DISRUPTS HER LEMONY COMA. GUS OPENS her eyes. Finds herself on the floor, curled against the wall. No idea how long she’s been there. The house is dark. She rolls onto her side then sits up. Tries to stand. One of her legs is asleep.
Knock knock.
It’s the front door. Levi pads down the stairs to see who it is. Gus pounds her fist into her hamstring to wake it up, wipes drool from the side of her mouth, and staggers to the front door. The hallway slopes to one side. Either there’s been an earthquake or she’s stone-cold drunk. She peers through the peephole. It’s the baby cop. She opens the door. The sky is deep blue. Evening. Levi pushes past her and jumps up at Constable Lashey’s chest. Then he spots a squirrel and takes off across the front lawn. Gus calls after him.