by J. R. Adler
“This is really good.”
Emily gave a small smile. She brought the wine glass to her lips and took another big gulp, like she was purposefully trying to drink away her façade.
“Thank you,” she said humbly.
Kimberley stabbed her fork into a chunk of potato and popped it into her mouth. It was buttery with the perfect mix of seasonings—garlic, salt, pepper, parsley, and smoked paprika. She didn’t know exactly what to say, so she busied herself with her food, waiting for Emily to start the conversation.
“I heard about Hannah Brown,” Emily said, lifting her head cautiously.
“Everyone has.”
“There are no secrets in small towns.”
“So I’ve learned. It’s one of the reasons I’m confident that we’ll find the person responsible.” Kimberley tossed another forkful of vegetables into her mouth.
“I know you will.”
“Did you know Hannah Brown?” Kimberley asked idly.
“We went to high school together, but we weren’t all that close. Any time I saw her around town, she was always pleasant, asked about the boys, and I asked about her little girl…” Emily brought her hands to her mouth with a gasp. “Her little girl. Oh my, poor Isobel. Growing up without a mother.” Emily shook her head and pulled her hands away from her face.
Kimberley noticed Emily’s bright eyes had a slight glaze to them, the wine going straight to her head, and the realization of Isobel growing up motherless washed a sadness over her.
Kimberley glanced around the kitchen and dining room again, taking in the surroundings. This amount of space was unheard of in the city, and she envied it, hoping one day, she’d be able to provide a home like this for her and Jessica.
“I just love this house.”
She gave a tight smile. “It keeps me busy.”
“It must. It’s huge. Plus, your two boys, your husband, a thriving business. You have it all.”
Emily took another sip of wine and laughed… bitterly, looking over the top of her glass at Kimberley. “Appearances can be deceiving,” she said quietly, but Kimberley heard it.
She raised an eyebrow, carefully cataloging that bit of information to ask Emily about later. Perhaps after she had a little more wine, she’d be primed to open up a bit more.
Emily took only a few bites of her food, drinking more than she was eating. The uptight, old-fashioned version of her started to disappear midway through dinner.
Kimberley stabbed her fork into a carrot and popped it in her mouth, also cooked to perfection. She couldn’t help but make a pleasurable sound.
“Are these fresh from the farm?”
She nodded. “My garden is the only thing of value here.”
She puffed out her bottom lip slightly, taken aback by Emily’s comment. “What do you mean by that?”
Emily sat up a little bit taller, splashing more liquid courage down her throat before speaking. “Wyatt sells our vegetables down at the farmers’ market—brings in more money than the wheat does. Something about agricultural commodities prices falling. Interest rates rising. Something like that. Wyatt likes to act like financial stuff is over my head. Foolish man.” She shook her head.
Kimberley nodded, agreeing with her, trying to encourage her to keep talking.
“Wyatt thinks he’s so smart. Ha. He bought some really expensive farm equipment we don’t even need. Put it all on credit and now we can’t even afford to pay for it.” She took another drink of her wine, setting the glass down with force.
“Have you talked to him about it?”
“Yes. Obviously, I don’t think the business being bad is entirely his fault. He’s under a lot of pressure from my dad. He’s not an easy man to please.”
“I’ve kind of gathered that,” Kimberley said carefully.
“Don’t take it personally. That’s how he is with everyone.” She rolled her eyes. “Patriarchy at its finest.”
Kimberley couldn’t help but smile. Emily was surprising her in more ways than one, and there was nothing better than spilling your guts while filling them with a little booze.
“Glad to hear I’m not the only one he’s not entirely fond of.” She took another bite of her food. “How’d you and Wyatt meet?”
“High-school sweethearts. I know, how cliché,” Emily said with a laugh.
“And David didn’t like him when you two first got together?”
“My dad didn’t like any boy I dated. You know how dads are.” Emily shrugged her shoulders.
Kimberley swallowed hard. No, she didn’t know how dads were. She knew how her dad was.
“It took him a long, long time to warm up to Wyatt. But now, it’s like they’ve gone back to square one. I feel bad for my husband, because he’s doing his best to appease my dad and save this farm. But he’s still coming up short. I don’t know what to do. All I can do is put on a brave face in front of my kids, especially since Wyatt rarely shows his face around here now. He’s always at the damn Trophy Room.” She huffed, then drank the rest of her wine.
On the outside, the farm seemed like it was doing well and Kimberley assumed David had money as he had retired early. If he did, why wasn’t he helping out? Emily walked into the kitchen and grabbed another bottle, uncorking it and bringing it back to the table. She refilled both glasses.
Wyatt’s been at The Trophy Room a lot lately. The information finally registered with Kimberley. She’d been drinking more than she usually did, but something clicked there. Wyatt. Ryan. The Trophy Room. The whispered conversation she had seen Wyatt and Ryan having just a few days earlier. Ryan not having an alibi for the night of Hannah’s murder.
“The Trophy Room? I’ve been there a couple of times. David warned me it was a place for men.” She shook her head.
“Of course he did.” Emily rolled her eyes. “Maybe that’s why Wyatt’s been spending so much time there. Thinking it’ll turn him into a real man or something,” she said with a laugh. She covered her mouth with her hand. “Oh my. I don’t know what’s gotten into me. That was so mean.”
“Nothing wrong with venting.”
“You’re right about that. He’s been coming home so late too. Far after closing time. Smelling like booze. Just drinking his troubles away, while I’m here in this big, dumb house raising our kids and holding the pieces of our life together.” She blew out her cheeks after her rant and filled them back up with a gulp of wine.
Spending lots of time at The Trophy Room. Coming home late. Later than bar close. Kimberley started piecing everything Emily had said together. She was on red alert.
Kimberley refilled their glasses again. “Has this been going on for a while?”
“Kinda.” Emily hiccupped. “Oh, excuse me,” she said with a giggle.
“Will he get home late tonight even with David with him?”
“I’m sure he’ll stay there even after my dad leaves. He’ll come clabbering to bed around three or four in the morning just like last night.” She took another drink of her wine.
“He got home after three a.m. this morning?”
“Oh yeah. He thinks he’s being discreet. But he’s as quiet as a buffalo.”
Wyatt had been acting strange since she arrived. She knew something was off. He had money problems. His marriage was falling apart. His business was failing.
“Did Wyatt know Hannah too?” Kimberley asked. She feared it was too forward, that Emily would realize what she was getting at.
“From high school. They ran in different crowds though. Wyatt was popular, all-star quarterback, and Hannah was more of a loner.” She shrugged her shoulders and took another gulp of wine. “Enough about Wyatt and me.” She flicked her hand. “Tell me about you.”
Kimberley filled her mouth with food to delay having to talk about herself. She chewed methodically. She didn’t really like talking about herself. Her life at home had been her deep, dark secret growing up. She had learned to never go into detail about herself, to never tell the truth about what
happened behind their closed doors. But she wasn’t a little girl anymore. There wasn’t a monster sleeping two rooms away. She’d have to learn to open up if she was ever going to make friends and make a better life for Jessica.
“There’s not a lot to tell, I guess. You know we came from New York City. My life has been all work up until sixteen months ago, when it became all Jessica and also all work.” Kimberley shrugged her shoulders. She purposefully left out any mention of Aaron. Thinking or talking about him always put her in a foul mood, so it was best to be avoided.
“There’s got to be more than that. Tell me what you like to do for fun.” Emily smiled.
“I like to run, but most people don’t find that fun. Hallmark and Lifetime movies are my guilty pleasure, but I’ll deny it if you tell anyone.” Kimberley laughed.
“Well, I’ll be.” Emily slapped her knee. “I would not have expected that. You seem more like a History Channel buff or maybe something serious like The Sopranos or The Wire.” Emily raised an eyebrow.
“Nope, I like my entertainment to be predictable, maybe because my line of work has never been. I also want it to do go down like a piece of pizza, extra cheesy. If I know what the ending is going to be in the first few minutes, I’m hooked.”
Emily let out a big grin. “You are something else, Kimberley,” she said in the most endearing way, lifting her glass to her lips for another sip.
Kimberley smiled back. It felt good to open up, even if it was about something as trivial as to what she liked to watch on television. It wasn’t much, but it was something to Kimberley. A small door slightly ajar.
“This was so fun,” Emily said as she walked Kimberley to the front door. There was a lightness in her voice, and she swayed a little as she walked.
They were both rather drunk after consuming three bottles of wine with dinner.
“It was. We should do it again sometime.” Kimberley pushed open the screen door and tripped out onto the porch into the warm Oklahoma air.
“Definitely,” Emily said with a smile. “Go ahead and send the boys back over. I’m hoping they go straight to bed. I’m too drunk to parent.” She laughed.
This was clearly out of the norm for Emily, to let loose and it was a breath of fresh air to see.
“I’ll send them back in twenty minutes to give you a little time to yourself.”
“You’re a lifesaver. Thank you!” Emily held out her arms and hugged Kimberley.
She was stiff for a mere second, but then loosened up, hugging her back.
“Good night. Thanks for dinner and of course the wine.” She took a step back and headed down the stairs of the front porch.
“Anytime,” Emily said with a wave.
Kimberley turned the corner, heading down the stone path to the cottage. She had thoroughly enjoyed the evening with Emily, but there was still something lingering, something she couldn’t get her mind off of… Wyatt.
20
The pounding in her head woke Kimberley before the alarm on her phone did. She pressed her hand against her temple, trying to push away the throbbing, but it didn’t help at all. Wine headaches were the worst headaches. She swallowed a couple of times, trying to bring some moisture back into her parched mouth; another failed attempt. Swinging her legs out of bed, she got up, rubbed at her eyes and made her way out of the bedroom, down the hall, but stopped in the living room as Nicole and Jessica were sitting on the floor between the coffee table and the television playing with a dozen random colorful toys. Jessica kept sticking them in her mouth, and Nicole kept pulling them out, trying to show her all the things each of them could do. A colorful truck that rolled over the shaggy green carpet. A stack and learn. A magnetic drawing board. And a set of foam blocks with numbers and letters on them.
“Morning,” Nicole said. “That’s for you.” She gestured with her hand to the coffee table where a glass of water, two ibuprofens, and a cup of coffee sat.
Kimberley walked around the coffee table and kissed the top of Jessica’s head. “Thank you,” she mouthed to her mom. She plopped down on the couch, tossing the pills in her mouth and washing them down with the entire glass of water.
“How ya feeling?” Nicole asked, leaning against the counter.
“Like I got hit by a bus.” Kimberley took a sip of coffee.
“But you had a good time?” Nicole gave a small hopeful smile.
“I did. Emily’s a lot of fun.”
“She is. What d’you two talk about?” Nicole pulled another toy from Jessica’s mouth. “No, sweetie. You don’t eat the toys. You play with the toys.”
Jessica’s face crumpled. Toddlers did not like being told what they could and could not do. Before she full-on erupted, Nicole handed her a green, gummy-like teething toy. She immediately stuck it in her mouth, her face uncrumpling.
“Actually, we talked about Wyatt a lot. Did you know he’s been hanging out at The Trophy Room, staying out later than it’s even open?” Kimberley took a sip of her coffee.
Nicole’s eyes widened. “What? No. Emily doesn’t think he’s cheating, does she? They seem so happy.”
Kimberley sat forward. She hadn’t even thought of that. Maybe he had nothing to do with Hannah’s murder. Maybe he was cheating. But still, the fact that Emily had said he didn’t come home until after 3 a.m. the morning Hannah was murdered didn’t sit right with Kimberley. It was worth looking into.
“Want something to eat?”
“No. I’m not hungry.”
“You have to eat.”
“I couldn’t even if I wanted to,” Kimberley said, groaning and resting her head in her hands.
The pieces of the night before started falling back into place slowly. Some of them sticking out more than the others. One in particular brought on a bit of anger. The farm was in trouble financially and her mother hadn’t mentioned it to her. Why wouldn’t she tell her about that?
Kimberley picked up her head. “Emily mentioned the farm’s in trouble. Did you know that?” She raised an eyebrow over the top of her coffee mug as she took a drink.
“I knew it wasn’t doing all that well. But I try to stay out of it. That’s between Wyatt and David.” She pushed a button on the truck that made a sound like an engine turning on.
“Where is David?” Kimberley looked over into the dining room.
“Somewhere on the farm, working on something,” Nicole said not looking at Kimberley.
“I’m going to take Jessica to daycare.”
“I thought I was going to.” There was a tinge of annoyance in Nicole’s voice.
“I got it. Can you get her dressed? I’m running late and gotta get going.” Kimberley punctuated her impatience by drinking the rest of her coffee in two big gulps.
“If you’re running late, then I can take her to daycare.”
Kimberley walked back to her bedroom, her mouth dry and her head pounding as she got dressed as quickly as possible into her uniform. She was pissed her mom hadn’t told her that the farm was in financial trouble and that she once again was using a passive approach when it came to issues in her household. She had done that her whole childhood, letting her father get away with anything and everything. She pulled her hair back into a low ponytail and smeared a tinted moisturizer all over her face. Kimberley came back out into the living room, expecting Jessica to be ready to go, but she was still sitting on the floor playing with toys, while Nicole sat with her.
“I thought you were getting her ready,” Kimberley said, pressing her lips firmly together.
“What is your problem, Kimberley Ann?”
“Why didn’t you tell me how much financial trouble the farm was in?” She folded her arms in front of her chest.
Nicole opened her mouth to answer.
“Because it’s none of your goddamn business.” David stood in the door frame of the dining room.
Jessica began crying, clearly scared from the raised voices and the tension that felt heavy like a thick fog.
She turned to f
ace him. “It is my—”
“Kimberley, just stop. I don’t need you two arguing, especially in front of Jessica,” Nicole warned. She pulled her granddaughter into her lap, running her hand over her head, trying to soothe her. “You just go on into work. I’ll get Jessica ready and take her to daycare.” Jessica’s crying faded, turning to sniffles.
Kimberley narrowed her eyes at David and then at her mother.
“Fine, Mom. You handle things the way you’ve always handled them by sweeping them under the rug.”
Kimberley turned around, storming out of the house.
“Fuck this,” Kimberley whispered to herself when she was outside of the cottage. She started walking briskly along the path toward the front of the property when it hit her. The sour taste in the pit of your stomach, like her intestines were slowly twisting in on themselves, and then the release, shooting up like an elevator whose cables have snapped, but in reverse. Kimberley vomited the better part of a bottle of wine into the grass along the side of the pathway.
21
Kimberley hustled into Custer County Sheriff’s Office, eager to tell Sam what she learned the night before about Wyatt. Barbara sat at the front desk with a smile on her face. It immediately faltered when she saw how terrible Kimberley looked; she was pale with messy hair and bloodshot eyes. Her uniform was wrinkled, and her shoes were caked in dried mud.
“Are you alright? You look terrible,” Barbara said, standing up from her desk.
Kimberley looked down at herself and attempted to smooth out her wrinkly shirt, but there was no use. She rubbed the palms of her hands over her head, flattening the flyaways.
“Yeah, I’m fine. Just didn’t get much sleep,” Kimberley lied.
It wasn’t a good look to say she had drunk two bottles of wine the night before.
“I’ll have to bring you in some coffee and a chocolate croissant,” Barbara said with a smile. “Chocolate always makes me feel better.”