Daddy Soda (A New Hampshire Mystery Book 1)

by Mira Gibson

  That day Kendra had taken a seat next to her. Her eyes had looked wild, bloodshot and watery and white all around, pupils dilated like she’d been living underground for ages. She couldn’t stop picking at a hangnail, hadn’t even noticed when her finger started bleeding. It was like she’d been beyond her own body, hovering above it or maybe trapped inside.

  With no preamble, she’d started talking not to Mary, but at her, monologue fragments, which didn’t make sense at first. The display had been jarring. The kitchen hadn’t felt like her home during her mother’s ramblings, hadn’t felt like where she’d grown up, but more like an eerie clone.

  Mary had worked to grasp the thread of just what in the hell Kendra was talking about, but when she did, following the thin twine deep into her mother’s mind, Kendra’s twisted past came to light. And understanding it had forever changed Mary.

  He used to keep me tied up, she’d explained, when I was pregnant with Hannah. I promised myself if I ever got out, I’d take her and run far, far away. I didn’t get far when I escaped, and baby it took me so long to realize why that was. It didn’t matter I’d left the county, changed my name, disappeared. I had to stare at his face every day once I had Hannah. She’s got her father’s face, spitting image of him and oh the shame I felt despising her because of it. I know you miss her, but it’s for the best she’s gone. I don’t know what I’d do if I had to keep looking at that face.

  When Kendra had finally run out of steam telling Mary about things her daughter could barely grasp Mary made the mistake of asking a question and the woman’s eyes went dark. She’d slapped Mary clean across the face.

  The memory faded away and she realized a cold sweat had broken out across her skin. But she told herself it was because of her efforts getting Dale squared away and nothing more. Dewy beads rolled down between her breasts and her pits could use a stroke or two of deodorant, but she decided to fuck that as well, closed his door and took to fetching a kitchen chair so she could lock him in, safe and sound. After spending a minute on that task, she listened to the sweet sound of silence.

  Everyone was locked up good just how she liked.

  Her family.

  She reached the front door, slid her feet into her Converses and threw on her jacket before letting herself out. She was sure to lock up then started around the side of the house, thankful she’d exercised a shred of self-care to keep her feet dry and shoulders warm. If she got sick everything would turn to hell.

  Soon the lake came into view across the yard. Its black surface was glass, the dock motionless. Her sneakers squashed, making funny noises with each step and because of it she almost hadn’t heard his boots mashing soggy earth as he stalked towards her.

  She sensed more than saw him and turned on instinct, her breath a sharp gasp when she saw his silhouette coming up from the edge of the lake.

  Tall with a build that implied lean, wiry muscles under his layers and jeans, she felt him staring, but couldn’t see his eyes.

  Quickly drawing, she aimed the revolver at him, held her ground.

  Mary’s racing mind went strangely calm.

  Should she fire a warning shot?

  No.

  Should she order him off her property?

  No.

  Should she kill him?

  As if thinking it had conjured his answer, he turned around and walked off, hugging the lake, boots slushing through marsh water, as he gradually vanished beyond the tree line.

  On guard he might return, she listened hard, but only heard the wind rustling the treetops.

  Then her jaw clenched and her skin flared hot, as she hardened to stone, furious, quaking as though the very core of her soul was erupting.

  Mary lowered the revolver then aimed it at her left thigh and pulled the trigger.

  Before the blast tapered into silence, she’d thrown the gun into the lake.

  Chapter Eleven

  To Hannah, Sanbornton Mercy had always sounded like a plea, like the whole town had banded together to beg mercy of the one place that was killing them, the one place no one could escape - shout the town name so God would listen, shout for mercy so life might get easier. But it never seemed to. For the Cole’s life was only getting worse.

  Mary looked as Hannah felt - destroyed.

  In her hospital bed, Mary lain under woolen blankets. A crocheted Afghan that Candice had brought was draped over her as well, a few pillows propped her up so she wouldn’t have to crane her neck, and her left leg rested on top of the covers as though she was just a kid too hot to keep herself tucked in. But that wasn't what she was.

  The white gauze that wrapped around her upper thigh was a glaring reminder of that fact - the fact they’d come back to the house, the fact Kendra was the start of this, but might not be the end. Until Hannah had heard the shot and they’d all run out, Hannah first fumbling in a panic to get out of Mary's room, waiting as Candice scrambled to unlock her own door then Mary's, rushing to Dale's then discovering he'd jumped out his window, she hadn’t entirely grasped the threat, possibility, or likelihood that her mother’s abductors would attack the family. Now, sitting beside Mary, the threat devoured her.

  Black mascara and eyeliner streaked down her cheeks. What was left around her lashes appeared gray, puffy eyes beneath. And those surprised looking brows were permanently knit together - stressed.

  She hadn’t let go of Hannah’s hand since the nurses had invited them in. Dale sat with Candice on the other side of Mary’s bed. He did what he could to comfort his littlest. Arm draped around the back of her chair, he offered her a reassuring smirk or two that didn’t quite land, while Candice took breaks from staring wide-eyed at her sister to glance at the unusually cheerful wallpaper that seemed to mock their predicament - smiling cartoon animals anchoring brightly colored balloons. Mary had been admitted as a child, though Hannah had argued against their logic. Dale had been too busy panicking about insurance coverage and paperwork to weigh in. Not that the room mattered more than the care, but the Cole’s took every incongruity as though it were a cheap shot at their economic standing and it probably was.

  “I’m out of it,” Mary said groggily, as she squinted through the stark overhead lights.

  “They drugged you up some good,” said Dale, taking her other hand to lace his fingers through. “I’ll grab the nurse if you need more. Don’t wait to feel the pain. We’ll get you more Oxy before the sting comes back.”

  His game plan brought Kendra to mind.

  The door clicked open and a man in a white smock who could only be Mary’s doctor stepped through. He poured over her chart without glancing at the family or his patient, as they waited on baited breath. He was a bit young for Hannah’s taste, but made up for it being Indian and all. When it came to playing into stereotypes, Hannah favored the complimentary ones.

  Finally, he met eyes with Dale, offered a quirk of his lower lip that she presumed was meant to be a smile then slipped Mary’s chart into a plastic slot at the foot of her bed.

  “I’m Dr. Singh,” he began in the faintest of English accents. “Mary was very lucky. The bullet grazed her, but not deeply.”

  Dale interrupted with a grim question. “You didn’t have to dig it out of her?”

  “No. I’d imagine it’s at the scene.” Hannah’s heart started racing. The bullet would give them an idea of the weapon. There could be a shell casing in the yard as well. Maybe Cody could get a serial number, track the weapon’s ownership, find out who did this. Find her mother. She realized she’d stopped listening. “We’d like to monitor the wound, keep her on antibiotics that we’ll send her home with as well.”

  Dale clenched his jaw at that, which told Hannah what was going on inside that head of his. He needed Mary to be released so the bill wouldn’t climb.

  “Thank you,” said Hannah, because no one else was going to.

  Dale winced, swallowed down the bad taste in his mouth then did a decent job of masking his financial concerns with those for Mary but he s
oon tipped his hand by asking, “How long?”

  “The rest of the night should do it.” Dr. Singh gave them a parting nod then left.

  “It’s going to be a long night,” Dale told Candice. “I saw a snack machine up the way.”

  With interest, Candice watched him scoop change out of his pocket and shake it in his hand, getting a sense of how much he had, but Hannah was already thumbing through her wallet. She passed a stack of ones over, which he didn’t seem to entirely appreciate, but accepted. He didn't say a word so she had to figure he thought refraining from thanking her would keep the playing field even.

  “See if the cafeteria’s open,” she suggested. “It’s better than Skittles and Ho-Ho’s.”

  “She can have whatever she wants,” he barked. “She eats healthy enough when things aren’t turned to shit.”

  Hannah got him out of the room so her counter-argument wouldn’t disturb Mary.

  “You have to let Cody go on over to the house and find that bullet and shell casing.”

  He grumbled, eyeing the cash instead of acknowledging her so she looked through the narrow window on the door. Candice was leaning over Mary and tracing her lips with her fingertip. Then she smiled, puckered her lips. Mary grimaced and urged her back. It was curious her sister’s trauma hadn’t sent Candice into catatonic overwhelm. Quite the contrary. It’d made her playful.

  Belatedly, he shot her a quick glance, frowned his agreement then counted the cash again, after which he elbowed the door open, ordering Candice to come. She hopped over. Bouncy little skips got her into the hall.

  “Something you need?” he asked, surprising her.

  “A sandwich if you can,” she told him. “And a cup of coffee would be great.”

  Candice was already barreling down the hall, making a game of zigzagging so she could touch each wall as she avoided seams in the tiles. After Dale had started after her, he turned.

  “For what it’s worth, I’m glad Mary called you. I’m glad you’re back.”

  She stepped right in, taking the opening. “What the hell’s going on?”

  His eyes sharpened on her, narrowing into a glare as though she’d overstepped her bounds then he started off, walking briskly so he wouldn’t lose Candice, who was rounding the corner at the end of the hall.

  Rejoining her sister, Hannah wrapped her hand around Mary’s exposed foot. “You’re cold.”

  She shrugged. “I didn’t notice.”

  She pulled the blankets over her foot in such a way that kept her wounded leg free then resumed her chair.

  “Mary, what happened?” she asked quietly, hoping her sister would talk now that they had privacy. She hadn’t said a thing before. “Come on, you got to tell me while it’s fresh in your mind.”

  Heavy silence impacted her sister for a long moment and she picked at her nail.

  “I don’t know.”

  “Yes, you do. Come on tell me.”

  More silence.

  “Did you recognize them?” When her answer didn’t come, she asked, “What are you afraid of?”

  “You going to stay?”

  “I still got days off work,” she provided.

  “So you’re leaving after that?”

  Hannah drew in a deep breath. She hadn’t thought about how this complication would affect her return date.

  “I can see what I can do. I don’t want to go until we find Mom.”

  “Never mind Mom,” she snapped. “Why can’t you just stay for good?”

  Mary launched into sudden upset, eyes glassy with tears and mouth quavering.

  “You got to listen to me.” She took Mary’s hand between hers. “One thing at a time. We’re all going through a lot right now. I’m here for you.”

  “But that don’t mean shit if you’re planning on turning around and walking out.”

  She considered the truth to the statement, tried to wrap her head around where Mary’s was coming from, but was interrupted when she heard a gentle knock at the door.

  Cody was peering through the window so Hannah went to him, cracked the door.

  “How is she?”

  “Drugged up and emotional.” Hannah slipped out. “She hasn’t said anything yet, but I haven’t had much time with her.”

  “Ms. Cole?” Dr. Singh approached from up the hall. “I wanted to speak with,” he glanced at some kind of report, “Dale Cole. Mary’s father.”

  “He’s getting some food. You can talk to me.”

  Dr. Singh eyed Cody with a distinct air of skepticism that appeared to be focused on the badge around his neck.

  “He’s fine,” Hannah assured him. “Family friend.”

  The doctor stepped in and spoke low. “The weapon was fired at Mary at close range.”

  “How close?” Cody asked.

  “The barrel could’ve been flush to her skin,” he explained. “We kept her boxer shorts in case the police need them as evidence. There’s a considerable amount of gun powder, a black stain across the leg.”

  “Yeah, I’ll get someone over here to take them,” Cody mentioned.

  “She had no defensive wounds, no skin under her nails, no signs of attack other than being shot.”

  Cody said, “Okay,” poised for more information, but Singh appeared to have said it all. He offered them a smile that wavered badly then continued on down the hall.

  Cody’s eyes were on her before she returned the gaze. It felt like he was studying her expression, drinking in the totality of her state, which seemed to pain him, worry and urgency and a touch of confusion causing him to grimace.

  “How’re you holding up?”

  “I’m not,” she admitted, regretting how strained her voice sounded.

  He found her hand, held it, angled his face near hers, stepping in close, and the smell of him, the familiar comfort it brought, was her undoing. Closing her eyes so the tears wouldn’t spill, she rested her cheek on his shoulder and let him hold her up. He was good at that, arm wrapping her, drawing her to him, his hand squeezing hers so she wouldn’t forget she was still here and so was he.

  “She has to have seen them,” she asserted, stepping back and wiping her eyes.

  “Let’s see if she’ll tell us.”

  Cody opened the door for her then followed, but Hannah was focused on her sister’s reaction to him. It was subtle. She angled her head and seemed to glare at him through her brow.

  “You remember Cody?”

  “How could I forget?” she said, dryly.

  “He needs to hear about what happened,” she explained, “what you saw, any details you can remember.”

  As though her tune had changed or as if it’d get him out of her room faster, Mary offered up all she could, confidently listing aspects. “It was dark when I was coming around the house and saw a man on our property at the edge of the lake. I think he came from the tree line that curves around the right side of it.”

  “Good,” she whispered, encouragingly.

  “He’s like maybe six feet.”

  “Shorter than your dad?” Cody asked to get absolutely clear on the assailant’s height.

  “No, uh, about the same I guess. He was skinnier than Daddy, but not skinny. Lean I guess.”

  Cody was jotting this down, echoing the facts back. “Six foot two, light build. White?”

  “Yeah, he was a white guy.”

  “Could you guess his age?”

  “Young,” she said easily. “Not my age. Maybe twenty or younger than twenty five.”

  “What did his face look like?”

  “I didn’t see it,” she said quickly. “He never came more than eight yards from me.”

  Cody glanced at Hannah for what to make of that, but Hannah didn’t know.

  “Do you remember what he was wearing?” he went on so as not to tip her off that they knew she was lying.

  “Boots of some kind I guess. Jeans. He had a jacket on.”

  In delayed reaction, Hannah mentioned her sister was on some painkillers, hop
ing it would explain Mary's inaccuracy.

  “I can do this now,” she countered. “I don’t want to have to deal with this stuff once we’re home.”

  “Sure,” he went on. “One last thing here.” Cody pulled a manila file folder from his satchel and extracted a thin stack of 8 x 10 prints. “Do you recognize any of these men as the one who shot you?”

  She didn’t take the stack, didn’t even look at them.

  “I told you I didn’t see his face,” she said, impatiently.

  Hannah tried not to absorb the agitation in Mary’s tone. “Give them a look, okay?”

  After taking the stack, she glanced at the first photograph then flipped it to the back, glanced at the next, and went on in this manner, quickly flipping through as though it were a rote obligation she wasn’t genuinely participating in.

  When she passed the stack back to Cody she softly told him, “No.”

  Hannah looked to Cody for guidance then again made excuses for Mary. “She really didn’t see his face. I wouldn’t rule out any of those men.”

  He nodded, worked his jaw, and seemed reluctant about returning the photos to his bag as though doing so would admit defeat.

  “I just want to forget the whole thing even happened,” Mary groaned.

  “A word?” Cody got to his feet, thanked Mary and wished her a speedy recovery, then started for the hall.

  “I’ll be right back,” Hannah told Mary with a smile. “That was good.”

  She widened her eyes so they wouldn’t roll, but still managed to give Hannah the feeling that she was naive or out of her mind.

  “I know you think she’s lying,” Hannah said when she reached him in the hall, Mary’s door having been closed securely.