Dark Signal

by Shannon Baker

I had to admire Emily for the deft way she handled the situation.

  I left the kitchen negotiations to Emily and went in search of a bathroom. Of course, in this house, with this crowd, the correct nomenclature was probably “powder room.” I loved the layout of this house, with the kitchen, living room, and dining room on one side of the stairs. The bedrooms were probably on the second story. On the other side of the stairs, a giant polished mahogany desk looked out of northern windows to the pasture. The space under the stairs opened to a laundry room and a wide hallway. I assumed my expedition ended with a bathroom somewhere around here.

  Meredith stood in the corner, her head propped against the wall. If she wanted to hide, there were better places. It looked like she’d simply stalled out.

  Meredith’s mother popped around the other side of the stairway. She drew up and gasped. I hadn’t heard many people actually gasp, and then, only if something threatened their life. “You have guests!”

  Technically we were guests, but I believe funerals have a different set of hostess responsibilities. In that case, the people stop by to help out those grieving, not to be entertained.

  Meredith cringed. “Yes. Of course.”

  Mrs. Sterling appraised Meredith. She wetted her thumb with her tongue and dabbed underneath Meredith’s right eye, then produced a lipstick from midair. “This will be a good color on you.”

  Maybe she kept it in a hidden pocket. With that trick, I ought to frisk her for concealed weapons. She dabbed it on Meredith’s lips and mushed her own together until Meredith imitated her. “The true test of character is not how we behave in good times, but how we bear up under tragedy.”

  It looked to me like Meredith wanted to slap her mother’s hand away. She closed her eyes and her nose flared. When she opened them again, she rubbed her lips together and smiled. “You’re right, of course, Mother.”

  Mrs. Sterling stepped back. “You go out first and I’ll follow in a moment so it won’t appear as though I came to retrieve you.”

  With her long legs in the sheer black hose and the three inches of spikes on her heels, Meredith stepped around her mother. I wouldn’t be able to move with that smooth precision and grace if I wore a satin gown and went barefoot.

  Meredith’s shoulder blades settled into a well-worn slot in her back, straightening her spine.

  I wandered around the corner as if just arriving on the scene. “Am I anywhere near the powder room?”

  Mrs. Sterling didn’t seem delighted to see me, but she managed something close to a pleasant expression. “You’ve come to the right place.”

  I leaned back a little. “You have such beautiful daughters.” Gushy, I know. I’d never say that, but I thought it might hit a soft spot with Mommy Dearest. I stopped short of saying, “They take after their mother.” Even for a diva like Mrs. Sterling, that might be over the top.

  Mrs. Sterling agreed and warmed to me. “We’ve been blessed with good genes.”

  “The girls are obviously close.” Maybe close meant something different in Omaha than it did in Hodgekiss. Close for the Fox clan meant dropping in uninvited, sharing clothes, cars, houses, childcare, money, time, and support. It also meant disruptive squabbles but a united front for the rest of the world. “It must be hard for Meredith to be so far away from all of you.”

  Mrs. Sterling sighed deeply, a sure sign of exaggeration, if not out and out lie. “I have to admit, when she started getting serious with Chad and he mentioned moving out here, her father and I did all we could to persuade her not to.”

  “You didn’t like Chad?”

  Mrs. Sterling radiated a moral and social superiority like a noxious odor. “You don’t have children, do you?”

  I could have told her about my nieces and nephews, but I suspected she didn’t care. I shook my head.

  All knowing, she said, “You love your children, of course, and want their happiness. But, having lived and experienced the world, you know romantic notions of love, while they’re exciting, don’t necessarily ensure lasting contentment. I’ve always believed making a good match involves more than the giddy rush of romance.”

  Since my parents didn’t lecture on life, I was ill prepared to listen to lofty philosophy from a woman more concerned with appearances than with comforting a grieving daughter. “Seems like Meredith and Chad were good partners.”

  Mrs. Sterling melted. It started with her eyebrows, sank through her cheeks. Her shoulders drooped and she shrank. Unlikely as it sounds, tears filled her eyes. “I was wrong. I thought Meredith would tire of Chad and the rural life. In no time, she’d be begging to come back to Omaha. But she thrived here. I believe she was truly happy with Chad.”

  I could tell her I was sorry for her loss. Or maybe murmur something about what a tragedy it was, how Chad was too young, how terrible it was for Meredith. I sorted through all the cardboard comments. My natural reaction would be to touch her arm or lay a gentle hand on her shoulder, maybe squeeze her hand. But touching her would be like stroking a scorpion.

  As quickly as she’d broken down she resumed her royal demeanor. Through her core and shoulders, up to her chin, and finally her eyebrows rose. She inhaled as if marking completion of the transformation. “I suppose an accident like this is inevitable when you work such a dangerous position.”

  Accident? Meredith hadn’t told her mother Chad was murdered. I couldn’t blame her for that. She probably had a better idea how Mrs. Sterling would react to that scandal than I did, but I’d imagine news like that would shoot Mother into orbit.

  Mrs. Sterling raised fingers that shook slightly to pat her updo. “At least Meredith is young enough to remake her life. Now that she’s had her adventure in country living, she can settle down to a more appropriate match.”

  Did people really think that way? And to speak to a stranger about such private views seemed truly odd. Maybe talking to me was like having a conversation with a cat or stuffed animal. Mrs. Sterling was too controlled to be honest with her family or friends, but she could unburden herself to the likes of me.

  I gave her a noncommittal smile-and-nod combo and slipped into the bathroom. When I emerged, she’d retreated to the living room to attend to the guests. I found Meredith at the kitchen sink with a water glass half raised. She stared out the window.

  “How are you doing?” I knew it was a lame opening. I also knew from the days following Glenda’s death, it was a question a person can answer on autopilot.

  She seemed to have forgotten to drink the water in her glass. Maybe she’d taken strength in a pill to help her through the demanding day. She cleared her throat. “Kate.” She seemed to yank herself back to the moment. She turned from her dreamy contemplation beyond the window and swept her gaze beyond me as if checking to see who watched us.

  In a quiet voice, she hissed at me, “What are you doing here?”

  I hadn’t expected hostility. “I stopped by to offer condolences.”

  She glanced around nervously. “It’s not the sheriff’s duty to attend private receptions, is it?”

  Maybe her meds produced paranoia. Or maybe she was hiding something.

  Meredith’s eyes shifted out the window as if against her will. Emily clicked in, her thin heels a staccato on the wood floor. “Mr. and Mrs. Carstenson are leaving.” Spoken with almost no inflection, yet her tone carried a smidge of contempt.

  Meredith gave the faintest smile, serene, as if she hadn’t just bared her teeth at me. “I’ll be right there.” She glanced out the window for a split second then back to me. Her animosity burned into me, though her words were perfectly polite. “Thank you for coming.”

  It was a phrase that flowed from her throat as spring runoff. I imagine she’d said it thousands of times in the last few days. Fine. Thank you for coming. What else was there? Because you couldn’t cry anymore. You couldn’t throw yourself on the ground and scream and plead with God to return your loved one. That person was gone forever, and you were left with Fine. Thank you for coming. And s
oon, that would fade, too. Then you dealt with the gaping hole as best you could.

  God, I missed Glenda. And days like today only made the ache deeper. The days after her death had been the worst in my life. Who knows what confused and unkind things I might have said at the time? I was reading too much into Meredith’s reaction. After all, I was the one who brought the terrible news of Chad’s death. No wonder she didn’t like the looks of me.

  I raised my eyes to the window. I’d thought Meredith had been staring at the dead prairie. But she’d had a more concrete subject.

  Josh Stevens stood with his back to the house. A full white plastic trash bag dangled from his fingers. He wore a plaid shirt and leather vest but no coat. He also wasn’t wearing a hat or gloves against the bitter wind, and yet he remained as still as the naked cottonwoods. The only thing moving besides bits of brown grass and dirt caught up in the restless air was a massive ball of gray fur that I assumed was a barn cat. It darted across the dirt ranch yard toward Josh.

  I braced myself for the cold. At least I wore long underwear under my skirt and a few layers hidden by my jacket. I slipped out the back door and across the cement patio, striped with pale sun from the pergola.

  “Hi Josh.” I thought I ought to warn him of my approach since he hadn’t moved.

  He twitched and turned his head away from me. He raised his free arm and scrubbed his face on his sleeve. When he turned to me, his eyes were damp and red.

  I sucked in a rush of cold air, and my heart slammed against my ribs the moment I saw his wrapped right hand.

  “Hey.” He seemed to notice the bag he held. “Just taking out the trash.”

  The cat arrived and rubbed against Josh’s jeans, leaving a thin trail of gray fur.

  I reached out to rub the cat’s back to give myself a second to recover. Its silky fur warmed my shaking fingers. I plastered on a casual expression. “What did you do to your hand?”

  He nodded at my own goose-egged forehead. “Looks like you met with a bear. I got a little too close preg checking heifers at Shorty Cally’s yesterday. You?”

  If he’d been stealing computers from a railroad siding, would he really be this relaxed? Checking with Shorty would be easy. “Slipped on the ice.”

  Skepticism crossed his face but he let it go. “Cold doesn’t seem to want to shake loose.”

  I stopped petting the cat, and he rubbed against my legs so I started again. “It’s tough to lose a friend.”

  A swell of tears threatened his eyes before he blinked them back. “Yeah.”

  I waited, wishing we could take the conversation inside but suspected Josh would clam up once indoors. Better to stay in the open.

  He stared at a tumbleweed, dull brown against tarnished gold grass. “He was a townie.” I knew what that meant. As townies, the Fox house served as Grand Central for prom and homecoming preparation, quick meals for ranch kids between basketball practices and play rehearsals, a stopover after school before parents could make it into town from a day working cattle.

  “I used to wait at the school. Mom couldn’t always get away to come to town in the afternoon. But after Chad moved in, I’d hang out at his house during the week. It sort of became routine. During the school year, I think I spent more time with them than I did at home.”

  His flow of words surprised me. “Did he ever go to your place?”

  The cat meowed long and high. It wound around Josh’s legs, letting out another plaintive yowl. Josh set the trash bag down and ran a hand along the cat’s back, making it arch. “Bet no one’s fed you.”

  He picked up the trash. “Come on.” I didn’t know if he talked to the cat or to me, so I followed anyway.

  With fluid movement, Josh crossed the ranch yard to slip behind the barn. The cat sprinted ahead, then zipped around and raced behind us. Typical behavior for crazy cats. I trod after them, considering the wisdom of traveling farther from the house’s central heat. A county Dumpster and an elevated fuel tank nestled close to the steel barn, shielded from the house. He raised the Dumpster lid, tossed in the garbage bag, and let it clang closed.

  Without pausing to see whether the cat or I followed, he slipped into a door at the front of the barn. The giant sliding doors remained closed, but this human-sized one opened easily. If anything, the interior of the building was even colder than outdoors. The feeble sun must afford a little warmth. The cat bounded between my legs and nearly tripped Josh in his enthusiasm. He meowed and put up such a racket it sounded as if he’d been starved for months. Josh pried the lid off a metal trash bin and bent in. The dry food rattled into a metal pet dish. The cat fell to it, and Josh dropped in the scoop and smashed the lid back on.

  I backed out to make room for him to step through the door. He closed it behind him and stopped, staring at the dead pasture. It was as if he’d had a plan, executed it, and had run out of steam.

  More to keep me from freezing, but also to jumpstart our conversation, I prompted him. “So, you spent a lot of time at Chad’s house. Did he ever go to yours?”

  Josh’s eyes lost focus. “Yeah. On weekends. But when he came out, we usually worked. Fencing or cattle. I taught him how to ride a horse, which he never really liked. But we had an old Honda 350 Scrambler. We’d tinker with it and get it fired up and take off. The summer we were fourteen, we’d sneak out after my folks went to sleep. We’d push that old 350 down to the county road, then fire it up. Roggin Lake wasn’t too far away cross-country. Chad and I used to park the bike and sneak down to the shore. People would pull their campers down there and leave their coolers out. We’d snitch a beer or two from a few coolers. Not enough so anyone would know they’d been robbed. They’d probably just look in the cooler the next morning and be surprised they drank so many the night before.”

  I admired the logic of that. It made more sense than stealing a case off the Miller truck when it made a delivery to the Long Branch. That stunt could have landed me, Robert, and Sarah in a lot of trouble if Dad’s cousin, who was a lawyer in Broken Butte, hadn’t spoken to the judge on our behalf.

  Josh sniffed. Maybe the cold was getting to him after all. “But that jig was up when the motorcycle broke down. We walked back to town, and Chad’s dad had to take me and the bike home. They never found out about the beer, but my folks were kind of strict. After that, Chad wasn’t allowed out to the ranch.”

  “But you still got to hang out with him in town?”

  He warmed, which is more than I could say for me. “There was an empty lot next to his house, and we used to play a game we made up called run-tackle-kill-smear.” His faraway face told me he relived the good times. “One time, we were probably in sixth grade, his mother came out and told us it was supper time. It was one of those fall days where it’s warm all day, but as soon as the sun starts down, it gets cold. We wanted to get one more play in. I don’t know what happened, but Bucky Volks tackled me hard. I broke my arm.”

  The cold didn’t seem to penetrate his thin layers. My fingers were numb.

  “His mom had to run me to Broken Butte because my folks were out on the ranch. Chad knew how much I loved McDonald’s and how I hardly ever got the chance to eat there.” It surprised me when he brought his focus to me to give me an aside. “My folks didn’t go to town very often. They worked a lot and they hated fast food, so when we did get to Broken Butte, Mom usually packed a lunch.”

  From what I knew of Black Socks, they preferred frugal and simple.

  “I remember Chad convincing his mother to take us to McDonald’s after I got my arm set.”

  His talk of football sparked a vague memory. “Didn’t you and Chad play on the Danbury team that went to State?”

  The transformation of a smile, even the small one, made him almost handsome. “What a year. We’d done okay our junior year, came within three points of winning districts. But our senior year, Coach switched us and put Chad as quarterback and me as receiver. We were unstoppable.”

  I looked down to make sure I still had fe
et since I couldn’t feel them anymore.

  The back door banged open. Meredith’s father stormed out. He glared at the covered patio furniture as if it was an invading army and he threatened to destroy it. With the gait of an angry bull, he took the patio steps two at a time and advanced on us. “Where the hell is some kind of tank or heavy-duty four-wheel-drive that can get me out of this goddamned black hole so I can make a f—” He halted and started a few decibels lower. “A phone call. I can’t get a signal in the house.”

  I wrapped my arms around myself, unable to stoically tolerate the cold.

  Josh indicated the barn. “Take the white Dodge dually. I just fueled it up.”

  Mr. Sterling seemed to notice the weather for the first time. “Damn. Chad couldn’t die in April. The bastard always had to do things the hard way.”

  Neither Josh nor I had anything to say to that.

  Mr. Sterling tilted his head at Josh. “Oh. Hey. You’re Josh Stevens.” He transferred his phone to his left hand and stuck out his right. “Good to see you.”

  Josh shook his hand. “Sir.”

  Mr. Sterling studied him a moment longer, as if not sure what to say. “Well. Okay.” He galumphed to the steel barn, and we watched him struggle to slide the big door open.

  Josh noticed my shivers. “You best get back to the house. They’ve probably got another full trash bag already, I’ve been gathering dust out here so long.”

  I watched Josh’s purposeful strides to the side of the barn away from the house. He was sure familiar with the place, knowing where the Dumpster was hidden, entering the barn and feeding the cat, filling up the pickup from the locked fuel tank. And how did Josh know Mr. Sterling?

  22

  I let myself into the back door wanting to moan at the wave of warmth. Emily had taken Meredith’s spot at the window above the sink. She handed me a mug of coffee, and I gratefully wrapped my frozen fingers around it, letting the steam thaw my nose. “Bless you.”

  Her perfect smile with even white teeth in flawless skin drew me in. “Just don’t tell Mother I gave you that mug instead of Mere’s china.”