At what she did next, Frank's brows pulled together, his jaw lowering another degree.
She walked up to Doug's new stereo and pressed the button, changing the station from country to classical. She turned the volume up loud. Then she walked up to Frank, jerking her head toward the bar.
Frank forced a smile and grabbed his burger and soda. No fries. After the incident last week, Roberta wanted him to stop coming to the diner altogether. They'd settled on no fries.
As he dumped his meal on the counter, Doug, no doubt as confounded as the rest of them, retreated to the back of the kitchen. Frank sat facing Mina on the bar stool. He remembered when she was a little girl and he'd take her and Bernie here to give their mother a rest. Mina always got a chocolate shake.
“You want a shake?” he asked, his voice raising to a hopeful pitch over the music.
She shook her head, her face troubled. A grown up face. She'd become a lovely woman, a lot like her mother, but he worried about her, staying in that house all the time. But today he worried about why she'd left it. Something in her expression told him they were in for a big discussion, mostly in the form of lip reading if she didn't turn that volume down. Didn't matter. With his hearing lately he did more and more of that.
Mina's eyes traveled over his shoulder, her look packing a bigger punch than a Colt 45. She didn't look back at Frank for a moment, he guessed until everyone's eyes were on their own food.
“Too bad. Since Doug bought the place they're even better than they used to be. I sure enjoyed the cookies and fresh vegetables you brought over, Mina. You checking up on me again?”
“No, Frank. I have no doubt you could take a bullet and be back at work the next day. We're not worried a bit.”
But the look in her eyes told him she was lying. He hated everyone worrying about him like this. He hated feeling old. But even he had to admit, if only to himself, that he was afraid that day outside the diner. It had felt like someone reached inside his chest, grabbed hold of his heart, and squeezed.
But it was more than that. It was as if all kinds of emotions came crashing down on him. He'd felt anger, and guilt, and so much fear. Things came back to him that he'd done his level best to forget about.
Strangest of all, his body screamed with the need for something. He knew the feeling from when he used to drink too much and had to stop. It wasn't alcohol he wanted, but it was like that. These were things he hadn't told Roberta or the doctors. How could he explain them? And so he was left to wonder what these strange symptoms meant. Were they normal? He had no way of knowing.
He was in the wrong town for normal anyway. The incident with Susan in front of the diner, the sidewalk cracking wide open, now this. None of it set right. It was as if someone was bound and determined to make him remember the most tragic and shameful night of his life.
Mina still looked at him as if she was trying to read his thoughts, so he shook it off and smiled at her.
“I was wondering how that homicide investigation's going?” she asked. “Have you identify the body yet?”
Frank shook his head, keeping his face like stone, same as the other two hundred times he'd given the answer around town. He felt his muscles twitch. It was harder this time.
“No luck yet. We know nobody local disappeared around that time. Must've been someone passing through.” He took a bite of his burger and a large swig of soda to push it down. “That why you're here?”
“Well ...” The way she glanced around the diner brought to mind a perpetrator that wasn't ready to give a straight answer. “Remember that old song, “Against All Odds?””
Frank pulled on his collar with his index finger, nodding. “Think so.”
She scooted in closer. “It played in here once when you took us for shakes. I was sixteen. I think it was the last time we came.”
Frank felt the heat continue to creep up his collar. He never imagined she knew.
“You danced to it with my mom at Coleen and Hank Shepherd's wedding. I saw the way you looked at her. I felt ...”
Frank lowered his head. Nodded. From the moment they came into town he'd felt the need to take them all under his wing. It was that same instinct to protect that drove him to become sheriff. He saw the look in Christa's eyes: sharp, afraid. She needed help. He'd been there for them. Maybe too much.
Not that there was anything wrong with how he'd felt. It would have been impossible not to be pulled in by Christa. She was a breath of youthful enthusiasm, but with something deeper about the eyes. He was single at the time. But he was too old for her. And he didn't want to take advantage, make her feel like she owed him something for what he'd done for her.
“I'm sorry to bring it up, Frank. I'm trying to make sense of something I saw the other day. You meant the world to my mom, and to all of us. She always knew you'd do anything for her.” Mina squirmed in her chair, her foot tapping the rung. She took a big breath. “So I just have to ask ... Would you?” She leaned in closer. “I mean ... did you?”
Chapter 15
Exposed
For weeks Mina hadn't been able to write. There was the scare about Frank's heart, and the conversation she'd had with him in the diner, and all that weird stuff revolving around Bernie, and the incident with Calvin in the barn. She'd kept her life quiet and controlled for so long. But since Bernie's arrival she'd felt like she was driving around in the middle of nowhere at dusk, lost, without a map, and with night falling fast.
She'd been getting comments from her blog, people concerned about her, so she decided it was time to sit down at her computer and write about her adventures in Roswell, New Mexico, complete with the lowdown on a little known dive that served dry ice in the soda, calling it Crash-Landing Coke, and a tour by a local who actually claimed to be abducted by aliens. She'd found out all about it when a fan (who she'd be sure to give due credit) sent her a postcard. She'd followed it up with online research. It all felt so real in her head that the guilt from lying about actually being there was an anemic thing, barely nipping at her gut.
First, Mina pulled up her last entry to read the comments, as she always did. She scrolled down, and down, and down. There were a lot of comments. And a lot of exclamation points. Something was wrong. Her heart slid right down into her stomach, and she almost threw up into her cereal bowl. The room tipped around her as her ears buzzed.
She sat there, eyes closed, her fingers hovering over the keyboard.
After several minutes of best and worst case scenarios playing hockey in her head, she took six big breaths and finally decided to read.
She scrolled back up to the first entry. It read, “Mina Fairchild, of Mina Escapes, needs our help. She'd like nothing more than to really see the places she writes about. How can we help her leave the safety of her Nebraska home?”
She sat there stunned, as if the comment had blasted from her computer and was lodged in her chest. Then she read through a few more comments, some expressing anger and betrayal, and one calling her a pathetic loser, before shutting off her computer. Considering her situation, it was crazy that it hadn't occurred to her to change the setting, allowing her to review comments before they could be posted. She couldn't help but wonder if there was a part of her that felt like she deserved to get caught; a part that wanted everything out in the open.
If that was the case she'd succeeded. It was over. She'd lost her only way to escape, and her only way to stay here and support herself. And she'd lost her anonymity.
She dropped her head onto the keyboard and stayed there for a full ten minutes before dragging herself back to bed and curling up under the covers. She tried to regulate her breathing, to keep her emotions and panic in check, but within minutes she was a gasping, blubbering mess.
Aside from a few individuals, the people she'd met online (the ones she'd lied to) were the closest thing she had to friends. They were her connection to life outside this town, to all the places she couldn't go. Now she was alone, or she would be as soon as Bernie went back
to her glamorous life in California.
No one in her online world trusted her, and the people in this town would laugh and whisper about her even more than they had when she'd gone out with Aaron Hopkins in high school, and in a moment of complete naivety told him about what she could do. She remembered the look on his face when what she'd seen turned out to be something he didn't want anyone to know about. And he thought she was a freak. He made sure everyone at school thought so too. That's when she started to withdraw.
She wasn't ready to see that look on people's faces again.
Mina punched her pillow, her despair turning to anger as she thought about the person—aside from herself—responsible for this. She may not have trusted Calvin completely, but there was a part of her— the same part that believed she really would go visit all the places she wrote about and make an honest woman of herself—that wanted to believe he'd meant it when he kissed her. That near-tornado was a mild breeze in comparison to the storm she would unleash on Calvin the next time he showed his face.
Just after noon the phone rang, and she dragged herself out of bed to answer it.
She spoke to Gladys, who'd spoken to Betsy Barker, who knew things. Betsy said she'd overheard a certain reporter asking Roberta Larson all about Mina's mother. He must have figured out their connection to Frank. Roberta and Frank hadn't even met when Mina's family had come to town, so she wouldn't know much.
Mina couldn't believe he had the nerve to stick around. He'd broken his promise in the worst way, and he was still in town, digging for information about her mother. He'd just dug his own grave.
Mina hung up the phone and stomped out the front door, slamming it behind her. She blinked, adjusting her eyes to the brightness of the May sunshine, and gulped in a breath of lilac-scented air. It was one of those spring days that poured the life back into the pale Midwesterners who had almost stopped believing in the power of the sun. They danced in it like rain falling after a long drought.
Mina didn't feel like dancing.
As she headed to town she noticed there were a lot of cars parked along the road. Up ahead, near the diner, the sidewalk was filled with people in camp chairs. Children ran between them and off the curb, clutching candy sacks and smacking each other as an 80's era canary yellow slugbug crawled past them.
Mina stopped short, wringing her shirt with both hands. Couldn't Gladys have mentioned that today was the annual classic car show? Surely she would have discussed it with Betsy, whose husband Eddie belonged to the Vintage Auto Association.
She took a deep breath and trudged ahead, fueled by an anger that overpowered her discomfort at the sight of all those people. As she walked past them, they were a blur to her. Betsy had seen Calvin in town earlier today. He was probably still here somewhere, schmoozing someone with all that charm he was certain he possessed.
Mina was a sweater-vest-seeking missile darting through the crowd. A Tootsie Roll popped her on the head as a shiny black model A Ford passed, its front-seat passenger showering the street with candy. The kids cheered, flowing from the sidewalk to collect it like manna. As Mina slowed down to avoid tripping over them, Junie Ellison tugged on her arm and stuffed a salt water taffy into her hand before running off.
Mina weaved around the spectators for another block, her pace significantly faster than the cars that drove past her. The proud owners eased along at the same pace they'd taken to living life, some of them rivaling the ages of the cars themselves.
A horn honked beside Mina and she jumped, jerking her head to see Eddie and Betsy Barker waving from their candy-apple-red Ford Thunderbird. Betsy's lipstick was the same vibrant red, and her hair was fixed to match the early 60's style of the car. Betsy's eyes narrowed, and she pointed behind her.
Mina's gaze shot to the approaching Chevy Bel Air. It was a beautiful deep teal, with a subtle shimmer. She could see the fifties era fins sticking out the back. Lou Wilson gave a finger wave, his hand resting on the steering wheel. Sitting perched on top of the back seat, tossing hard candy to a couple of giggling women and giving them a zinger of a smile before snapping their picture, was Calvin. He was sans sweater-vest, which made sense, seeing as how it was eighty degrees outside. His hair was ruffled. He still wore his white shirt, unbuttoned part-way, his tie hanging loosely, the sleeves rolled. Casual worked for him just as well as his professional look.
Mina stepped closer and raised her arm, chucking the salt water taffy directly at his head. She smiled as it bounced off, and he looked around as if perplexed. Then he saw her. She was certain she detected fear in his eyes.
He gave her a pitiful attempt at a smile, and all the wrath that she'd felt as she punched her pillow in her bedroom revived, every wisp of it gathering into a whirlwind of anger. She stalked to the car, scrambling to climb inside.
“Woah!” Lou punched the brake. “What are you doing, Miss Fairchild? You're likely to get yourself run over.”
“About as likely as cutting myself with a butter knife. What are you doing, five miles per hour?”
Lou's pleased-as-punch exterior wilted, and his regular ornery expression peeked through.
“Well, hop in then, but watch the paint. She has doors for a reason.” Lou smiled again. “Not sure what we owe the pleasure to, Mina. But you're lucky to have Calvin as a companion back there. You wouldn't guess it by that foreign number he drives, but he's a lover of antique cars. He's been to shows all over the country.”
Calvin darted a nervous glance at Mina, who'd seated herself beside him, before smiling back at Lou.
“The good luck's all mine.”
“And he's taking photos for us. He's going to donate them so we can make a fundraiser calendar. He's already done most of the cars, so I thought he'd like a ride. By the time we're done today, he'll be buying American.” A charger revved its engine and honked behind Lou, and he scowled. “Hold your horses! I told them not to put me next to that noisy contraption.”
Lou moved forward again, the jolt bumping Mina against Calvin. His hand shot out to steady her. She pulled back, sitting up tall and looking him square in the face.
He tilted his head, giving her an earnest look.
“What's wrong? Have you been crying?”
Her expression hardened. She'd done her best to hide that.
“You broke your promise.”
“I haven't done anything.”
Her eyes burned. “Maybe it was nothing to you. But it was everything to me. You said we had a deal.”
Calvin smiled stiffly over her shoulder and threw a handful of candy.
“I didn't break our deal.”
“Woohoo! Go for it, Mina!” Mina turned to see Leona Bell, a huge smile on her face as she stood by her stoic sister, Matilda. Mina faked a smile, realizing for the first time that she'd just become part of a parade. The blur of people around her, the staring eyes, suddenly came into very sharp focus; the colors and noises assailed her senses. She covered her mouth with her hand, certain she was about to ruin the interior of Lou's car.
She turned forward, closing her eyes. Breathe in. Breathe out. Just pretend those people aren't there. She blinked away the angry tears, and faced Calvin again.
“Then how do you explain my hacked website? You're the only one that knew.”
Calvin's mouth turned down. His expression could have passed for concern.
“I'm sorry, Mina. But you're assuming I'm the only one that knew. I can help you figure out who did this.”
His voice was so sincere, her muscles relaxed for a moment. He touched her hand, and she didn't not like it. That's when she realized she'd hoped it wasn't him. She had to stop letting her guard down.
Mina snapped back her hand, crossing her arms.
“Don't lie to me. You've been asking around town about my mother. She was off limits. Or did you just decide you didn't need information from me anymore.”
Calvin tossed another handful of candy over her shoulder.
“Okay.” His voice was low. As he leaned
in close, she couldn't help but remember how it felt in her hair, how it sounded when he sang. “I've been asking. And don't be mad. I went out of town for a few days on a lead about her.”
Mina jerked back as if he'd hit her.
He pulled her arm toward him. “Listen. Something's not right. I took some pictures by the diner the other day. When I looked through them, I saw something I've never seen before. I'll show you.”
Mina wanted to push him off the car and watch him hit the concrete. But he had her attention.
As he punched the buttons on his camera she glanced around at the onlookers, trying her best to pretend she was relaxed and simply enjoying the ride. Who was she kidding? Several people stared at her wide-eyed, as if shocked to see that she didn't turn to dust in daylight. Some of them looked back and forth between Calvin and her as if making calculations. But most of them wore a smile that seemed genuine. None of them looked like they were out to get her.
On a whim, she grabbed the bag of candy from Calvin's lap and tossed some at a cluster of kids. She was here, she might as well make it a good show. Maybe she'd start with the candy and end with Calvin. She knew some women who would stuff him in their bags if they could.
“Now look.” Calvin handed her the camera. She settled the lens in her lap and balanced it, squinting at the screen. It was too bright to see anything.
Mina shielded the screen with her hand. It was a shot of her sister talking to Doug in front of the diner.
Calvin leaned in again to zoom in on the image, his hair brushing against hers.
Mina tried not to remember the last time he'd been so close. She stared at the image. Bernie was smiling. Not an actress’s smile. A real one.
“I see it.” Mina smiled too, her edge melting a bit. Her sister was still in love with Doug.
“Why are you sm—No, right there.” He jabbed his finger at the space behind Bernie.
The Stranger's Obituary Page 10