What Hurts the Most: An engrossing, heart-stopping thriller (7th Street Crew Book 1)
Page 4
Just before we reach the front door, I turn my head and look down at 7th Street behind me, on the other side of Atlantic Avenue or A1A as we call it. 7th street continues all the way down to the Intracoastal Waters, or Banana River, and in most of those houses had lived kids. I had known all of them. We used to be a tight bunch of seven children. All of us went to Roosevelt Elementary and later Cocoa Beach High School. We used to bicycle to school together and after school we would rush back to check out the surf from the crosswalk on 7th, then grab our boards if the waves were good and surf for hours. We used to call ourselves The 7th Street Crew. I was the rich kid among them, with the biggest house on the ocean with a pool and guesthouse. But I was never the happiest.
“Mary!”
The face in the doorway belongs to my dad’s girlfriend, Laura. We don’t like her. She came into our lives two years before I left home, so I had the privilege of living with her for two very long years before I could finally leave.
“Hi, Laura,” I say, forcing a smile.
“Oh…and you brought a dog. How wonderful,” she says, staring at Snowflake like he is a vicious monster. Snowflake is anything but that. He is the gentlest dog in the universe, and the fluffiest. He loves children and will run up to anyone simply because he loves people so much. He is white as snow, but has the brownest, deepest puppy-eyes in the world. He is also my best friend in the whole world. He is no guard dog, though. That he cannot do.
“Don’t worry,” I say. “He doesn’t shed. He has poodle in him and they don’t shed. He doesn’t drool either or bark. He won’t be any trouble.”
“Well isn’t that…nice.” Laura speaks through tightened lips. I know she is going to hate having him here, but I couldn’t just leave him in the apartment back home. She will have to live with it.
“And this must be Salter,” she says with a gasp. “My gosh, how much you look like your granddad.”
“Speaking of…where is the old man?” I ask, feeling uncomfortable already.
“He’s in his study. Come in. Come in.” Laura makes room for us to enter. Salter goes first.
“Whoa!” he exclaims. “This house is huge.” He looks at me like he expects me to have told him about this sooner.
“I put you two in one of the rooms upstairs,” Laura says.
“I think we could fit our entire apartment just in this hallway,” Salter continues. “Don’t you think, Mom?”
“Probably. Now let’s get our suitcases to our room, Salter, and then find your granddad.”
“I’ll let him know you’re here,” she says. “He hasn’t really been himself since…well since Blake…you know.”
“He got arrested, Laura. You can say the words. It’s not like it’s a secret.”
“I just didn’t want to…in front of the b-o-y.”
“He’s nine, Laura. He knows how to spell boy. Besides, he knows everything. He can take it.”
Laura looks at me like I have no idea how to be a parent. She herself has two daughters of her own that had already moved out when she met my dad. They are a little older than me. I met them once at a Thanksgiving dinner right after Laura moved into our house, and that was no success. Since then, I have passed on all invitations to Thanksgiving and Christmas. After a few years, I think they got the message and stopped asking if we would join them.
“Let me show you to your room.” Laura goes ahead of me up the stairs. I am surprised that she hasn’t placed me in the guesthouse in the back to keep me out of the house as much as possible, like she did when I was a teenager. As soon as she moved in, I was asked to move to the guesthouse in the back. She wanted to turn my old room into a gym. Back then, I didn’t understand why she didn’t just chose one of the six other bedrooms in the house, but today I do. She wanted me out and maybe my dad did too. I wasn’t exactly an easy teenager. I had a lot of anger built up and was constantly taking it out on him. I blamed him for everything that happened with my mother.
I still do.
Chapter Twelve
September 2015
“MARY IS HOME!”
Sandra slams the door as she runs inside with Lucky, her brown Chihuahua. Her husband Ryan is sitting by the computer. Usually, they will go out surfing on a day like today where they are both off for once at the same time, but the waves simply aren’t good enough. At least not for her.
“I just saw her when I passed her dad’s house on my run with Lucky,” she says, and takes the leash off the dog. “She parked the car in the driveway.”
“And, who is Mary again?” Ryan asks, without looking up from the computer.
A boat passes on the river outside their windows. Ryan wants to go boating later today, but Sandra isn’t really in the mood for it. It is so rare she has a Saturday off like this and is home to enjoy it. Usually, she is in California, New York, or Milan. For the first time in years, she has the entire week off and doesn’t have to be anywhere until next Monday, when she is going to Germany for a shoot. If they go on the boat, Ryan will take his friend Phillip with them, and then she will feel all left out once they start talking fishing stuff. Still, she wants to be with her husband on this beautiful day.
“Mary is the girl who used to live in the big house at the end of 7th Street. The one on the ocean. She must have come home because of what happened to Blake. I don’t think I have seen her in…what is it? Twenty years? Oh, my gosh I’m getting old.”
Ryan’s eyes leave the screen and he grabs Sandra around the waist and kisses her stomach. “You still look fine to me, babe.”
“Are you ever sad that we never had any children?” she asks.
Ryan pauses. “Not really. I never thought much about it. I mean, you’re busy with all your modeling and I have my construction business. You travel way too much to have children, and I could never ask you to stop your career. Not as long as you’re doing so well for yourself.”
“Yeah, but still. My career won’t last forever, you know. I might still look great now at thirty-eight, but in a few years, the calls are going to stop coming. I can already feel them slowing down.”
“Doesn’t Heidi Klum still work? And she’s older than you, right?”
“Well, I’m hardly a Heidi Klum.”
“Well then, Claudia Schiffer and what’s the name of that other one? The one with the mole…”
“Cindy Crawford.”
“That’s right. I see her everywhere on TV.”
“She has this whole furniture business going. It’s different with her.”
“No, it’s not. You could do that. Or something else just as cool. The world is your oyster, baby.”
Sandra kisses her husband gently, even though she is sweaty and nasty from her run in the heat.
“Plus, you still make more money in a month than most do in a year,” Ryan continues. “I say, you work as long as it’s still fun, and then we see what happens. If you want children, we’ll have children.”
Sandra laughs. “Except I might be too old to have them. The clock is ticking. I can’t have children forever.”
“Then we’ll adopt.” He grabs her waist again and pulls her onto his lap. “As long as my baby is happy.”
“You’re sweet,” she says and kisses him again.
“Now, go grab a shower. You’re sweating on me,” he says with a grin. “And you’re hurting me. You’re heavy.”
Sandra pushes him lovingly, then jumps down. She has gained a little weight lately, which is a big no-go for a woman in her position. She has already got a few lines around her eyes that the magazines Photoshop out, if she is getting chubby as well, it will be the end of it.
“You should go talk to her,” Ryan yells after her as she enters the bathroom.
Sandra peeks out. “Who?”
“That Mary person. Catch up on old times.”
Sandra’s heart drops. “I don’t know about that,” she says. “I don’t think she would want to see me.”
Chapter Thirteen
September 2015
Once again, I feel a shiver run through my body at the thought of her.
Why mom. Why?
I knock on the door to my dad’s study and wait for his response.
There he is. My old man. Sitting in one of the leather chairs in the room that I as a child was only allowed into when I had to be scolded. He looks tired and old.
My dad looks up at me. If he is happy to see me, he hides it well.
“Mary,” he says.
“This is Salter,” I say, and urge my son forward. I feel bad using my son as an icebreaker, but what can you do?
Finally, my dad smiles. “So, this is Salter, huh? Come here boy and give your granddad a hug.”
Salter looks up at me, as if he is asking for my permission. I nod him along. “Go ahead.”
Salter hugs my dad a little reluctantly. My dad closes his eyes and holds him for a little while, then grabs him by his shoulders.
“Let me look at you, boy. Hm. You have your mother’s eyes and your father’s nose.”
“I’ve been told that I look at lot like you,” Salter says.
My dad bursts into laughter that soon turns into a cough. My dad has been a smoker all of his adult life. It is a miracle he is still alive at the age of seventy-five. I know Laura doesn’t let him smoke inside, but I also know that won’t stop him.
“Well, they’re right,” he says. “And that’s not such a bad thing.”
Salter laughs. My dad coughs badly again and lets go of Salter’s shoulders. The boy comes back to me and grabs my hand in his. He looks up at me with worried eyes.
“Is he sick?” he asks.
“I’m just old, boy,” my dad says between coughs.
Salter chuckles. My dad catches his breath then looks at me seriously. “You didn’t have to come. There really was no need for it.”
“Salter,” I say, addressed to my son. “Why don’t you go upstairs and find your iPad. Granddad and I need to talk for a little while. Grownup stuff.”
“He doesn’t need an iPad,” my dad intervenes. “He’s a kid. Let him run down to the beach or go in the pool. He needs some fresh air. And some sun. Look at those pale cheeks.”
“Can I, Mom? Can I go in the pool?”
“He’s not a very strong swimmer,” I say. “Someone needs to watch him.”
“A boy of his age? That’s ridiculous,” my dad says. “Kids around here swim like fish in the ocean by the time they’re two. You used to live your life more under the water than above it.”
“This is Florida, Dad. It’s different. There’s water everywhere. Plus, it’s warm all year around. Where we come from, kids don’t go swimming every day like we did.”
“No, they go on iPads,” my dad says.
I sigh deeply. I am already regretting coming here.
Chapter Fourteen
September 2015
We compromise. Salter is allowed to take the iPad to the beach and sit in one of my dad’s chairs and play a game until I am done. I promise I will take him swimming in the ocean when I am done talking to my dad. I am dying to get out in the waves myself anyway. That is the one thing I have missed about this town. The one thing I am sad that Salter doesn’t have in his life growing up.
“So, what’s the deal, Dad?” I ask, when Salter has left. “What’s going on with Blake?”
“They arrested him at his place yesterday,” my dad says. “They’re charging him with murder.”
“Murder? Blake?” I laugh mockingly at the idea. It’s ridiculous. “Blake is many things. He is lazy, he is…well, he’s never done a day’s work in his life…”
“He’s a spoiled brat,” my dad interrupts me. “You can say it the way it is.”
“But, a murderer? That he is not.”
I look at my dad. It is scary how much we look alike. I see it every time I look in my mirror. Every day, I am reminded of where I have come from, even though I try so hard to forget.
“I’m guessing you have put your army of lawyers on the case?” I ask. “Has bail been set?”
“No,” he says, shaking his head. “There’s a hearing today. But there is no way a judge will give him bail for murder.”
“But…but we’ve got to get him out of there,” I say.
“I got him a good lawyer; that’s all I can do. But the charges are severe. He risks prison for life. They have an eye witness that claims to have seen Blake kill the woman.”
“What?”
My dad draws in a deep sigh. This entire affair is wearing on him. Blake has always been his favorite; there is no doubt about it. He is sort of his second chance to make things better, but it hurts him that he has turned out to be the way he is.
“They claim he met the two girls in a bar and brought them back to his studio, where he had some kind of weird sex game with them and stabbed the one to death while the other managed to escape. They found a bloody stone-carving chisel in his studio when searching it after his arrest.”
“A chisel? Stone carving? But Blake is a painter. He doesn’t use chisels,” I say, confused.
“Well, he’s been experimenting a lot lately with his work. He’s been doing everything from coffee tables to decorative water-fountains to cutting tiki bars for people’s yards. He had to expand a little if he wanted to make money, you know. I couldn’t keep supporting him. Laura wouldn’t have it.”
Of course she wouldn’t. Just like she never wanted me in their life either.
“Well, we have to help him the best we can,” I say. “I mean, you do believe in his innocence, right?”
My dad hesitates just long enough for me to know. He doesn’t. It makes me furious. I try to hold it back.
“You’re kidding me. This is your son. It’s Blake. He’s a good kid, Dad. Confused, yes. Spoiled, yes. Lazy, heck yes. But no killer, and you know it. Deep down, you know it. Don’t tell me you believe he could have done this.”
“I still have a hope that he didn’t do it, but Laura feels differently. She believes he got himself into the mess and that he doesn’t deserve our help. She’s got a point, you know. I can’t keep cleaning up his messes.”
I freeze. “You’re not going to pay for his lawyer, are you? You’re going to let him take care of it himself, even though he has no money? Just because of her?”
“It’s his mess, Mary.”
I stare at my old man sitting in his chair. He is even more pathetic than I remember him. I can’t believe a man like him, with the esteem he has in this community, with all the power he has, that he can be such a wimp. My dad is among the most influential people in Brevard County. If he says jump, they all do, simultaneously. But when it comes to making decisions concerning his own family, he is such a coward. It is one of the things that make me loathe being his daughter.
“All right,” I say and walk to the door. “I’ll take care of it. Like always, I’ll take care of everything.”
“You’re wasting your time.” My dad stops me as I am about to leave. “Oh, and about that dog of yours. Try to keep it in your room, would you? Laura isn’t much of a dog person.”
Chapter Fifteen
September 2015
Blake feels sick to his stomach when they come for him. The hearing ended less than an hour ago and he has been put back in his cell. He is shaken. Constantly on the verge of crying. But he tries to hold it back, tries to be tough. A guy like him has no place in jail. He isn’t going to last a week.
Blake looked for Olivia during the hearing, but didn’t see her. He saw his older sister Mary and their eyes met briefly while his lawyer pleaded with the judge for bail. As expected, he d
idn’t get it.
It made him feel a little comforted to see his sister’s face in the crowd. He doesn’t know her very well, but they write messages on Facebook and sometimes talk on the phone. She never comes to visit. But, still, he knows she will always be there for him when he needs it.
Mary is the closest he will ever come to having a mother. Growing up with Laura was no party.
They sent him away to a boarding school in Jacksonville for a few years once he reached school age, but he was caught smoking weed on the school grounds in seventh grade and sent home. After that, he lived at the house with them, but tried hard to stay out of Laura’s way. He believes his dad feels sorry for him, and because he knows that Laura doesn’t like him, he spoils him with a new car every year, his own boat, and basically gives him everything he wants. Either that or he just gives him everything to get him to leave him alone.
“You have a visitor,” the prison guard tells him.
Blake feels a sting in his heart. He hopes it is Olivia. He doesn’t know what they did to her afterwards, after they dragged him away. He just hopes that he didn’t get her in trouble with the general.
He is taken to a small room where his sister is waiting. Blake tears up when he sees her again. He is disappointed that it isn’t Olivia, but at the same time happy that she is here.
“Blake,” she says and stands up when he enters.
He can tell the sight of his orange uniform and chained feet and hands horrifies her. He sits down.
“It’s good to see you, Mary,” he says with a sniffle. “What has it been since I was up to visit you? Three years?”
“Five, Blake,” she says with tears in her eyes. “It’s been five years. How are you?”
He scoffs and answers with sarcasm. “Great!”
“Blake, be serious. How are you holding up in here?”
He looks into her eyes and feels tears pile up. He has tried to act so tough ever since the arrest, but the reality is that he is devastated. Completely. It is a nightmare. He doesn’t know what to do. He has been questioned for hours and hours, and still they keep asking him the exact same questions. No, he didn’t kill that woman. No, he doesn’t know who she is. How could he have stabbed her in his studio if he has never seen her before in his life?