Back Against the Wall

by Janice Kay Johnson

  “I hurt my mother’s feelings so I could spend the day with you. Apparently, spending the day with me isn’t as important for you.”

  “She threatened suicide.”

  “Did you believe for a minute that she was serious?” he asked, incredulous.

  Beth hesitated but said, “That’s not the point. She needs me.”

  He shook his head in frustration. “I can’t do this.”

  For a moment, she went so still, he couldn’t tell if she was breathing. Then she whispered “This?”

  “Us.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  I CAN’T DO THIS. Tony’s words rang in Beth’s ears. He couldn’t do this.

  Us.

  Why was she even surprised? There’d been plenty of hints.

  “Well, this is the shortest relationship I’ve ever had,” she heard herself say.

  He paced a restless circle in the small kitchen before facing her again. “It’s not you. It’s both of us. We’re too much alike, trapped by our families. I love mine, I can’t back away, but they drive me crazy enough that I can’t take on any more. Every time your sister or father claim to need you, you’ll be running to their sides, won’t you?”

  Beth stiffened. “Claim? I suppose your family really needs you, while mine is just manipulating me?”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “You implied it.”

  “Damn it, that’s not what I mean!”

  “So, if I’d told Emily she was on her own and gone to the lake with you, we’d have been fine? You expect to be the center of your girlfriends’ lives? No other priorities accepted?” She tried to cross her arms and could only clutch the bulky cast with her good hand. “Well, good luck with that.”

  “You have to see—”

  “I don’t have to see anything. You’ve made your decision. Fine. I’d appreciate it if you’d clear out what you have here and leave.”

  He looked strangely shocked, considering he’d started this. “You shouldn’t be alone.”

  Hurt and angry, she said, “That’s not your business. I have people who care about me.”

  “I’m one of them,” he said quietly.

  Beth braced herself. “You need to go.”

  They remained locked in a stare for what had to be a minute, his eyes dark and turbulent. Then he shook his head and went into her bedroom, where the clothes she’d washed for him sat atop her dresser. His badge and gun were there, too. He hadn’t immediately donned them this morning, the way he had other days.

  Because it was Sunday. The day of rest.

  On the verge of tears, she held herself together. She didn’t say anything when he emerged with a duffel bag slung over his shoulder.

  “I’ll get your towels and the lunch,” he said gruffly.

  She held herself as tightly as she could. “Don’t bother.”

  After a moment, he gave one more nod and started for the back door. He opened it but didn’t turn around. “Be careful, Beth.”

  She didn’t think she was capable of further speech without bursting into tears, so she kept her mouth shut.

  He closed the door behind him. A minute later, Beth heard the roar of his truck engine.

  Only then did she let herself dissolve.

  * * *

  TONY DROVE A BLOCK and a half, then pulled over. With a white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel, he sat staring straight ahead through the windshield without seeing a damn thing. A part of him knew how stupid that was: cops couldn’t afford to be oblivious to their surroundings.

  He’d done what he had to, he told himself. He and Beth, they were a nightmare waiting to happen. Already stretched beyond his limits, he’d have acquired another brother, another sister, a father-in-law. Before he knew it, Beth would have been rushing to his sisters’ sides, too, every time one called. That’s how she was made. Their own plans, their own lives would always come in second.

  This was why he should never marry. Getting involved with Beth, he’d violated his own rules. He’d been perilously close to falling in love with her. The terror he’d felt when he got the call saying she was hospitalized after the assault...he never wanted to feel anything like that again.

  An unwelcome voice in his head murmured, You’re not going to feel the same when this guy goes after her again?

  He rapped his forehead on the steering wheel a few times, which only served to re-ignite his headache. He’d left her alone. If he waited another few minutes, kept his eye on his side mirror, he’d be able to see her car turning out of the alley. After all, Emily needed her.

  It was too late to go to church—not that he thought the service would help him untangle this ugly knot of conflicted feelings. He could still go to the family dinner. He’d make his mother happy.

  Sure. He’d also add to her certainty that she could guilt him into obedience.

  No.

  Okay, what about driving out to the lake on his own? Too bad the idea now held zero appeal. He felt alone enough without pretending to have fun in the midst of hundreds of other people.

  Swearing, he stayed where he was until he saw Beth’s car turn onto the street, just as he’d expected. Then he pulled a U-turn to follow her, hanging well back.

  Her sister’s apartment building was crap, but Beth would be less than thrilled if he appeared to escort her in. So all he did was pull up close to the entrance, roll his window down and listen.

  Nobody screamed.

  Now what? Did he sit here for hours, while she consoled the spoiled brat? Shit, he’d roast in the truck. And tomorrow...tomorrow he had to work. He couldn’t stake out her townhouse or follow wherever she went.

  Jaw painfully tight, he drove away. Beth was smart. She wouldn’t do anything like stand outside in the dark again. He hoped like hell she wouldn’t go out after dark at all. Although he wished she had an alarm system, the dead bolt locks on both exterior doors were good ones. The biggest windows faced a busy street. Only a fool would break in that way. The utility room window was too small for a man to squeeze through. Her kitchen window, looking out at the parking area in back, was the one that made him nervous. Breaking glass might alert a neighbor, though, depending on how well-insulated the units were.

  He drove into his own garage and walked into the house. The air was hot and still. Looking around, he felt eerily as if he hadn’t been here in weeks, when in fact he’d mowed the lawn and showered here yesterday. Tony used the air-conditioning units as seldom as possible, but he turned both on now, dumped his duffel on his bed and stuck the lunch in the refrigerator. He didn’t know if he could bring himself to eat the sandwiches Beth had made such a short time ago, the cookies she was afraid to eat because her mother had convinced her she was fat.

  Tony prowled the house, finally persuading himself to grab a beer and turn on the TV to watch a Mariners game. He’d had a six-pack in the fridge for weeks. Given that he wasn’t much of a drinker, he could get pretty drunk if he guzzled them all. For once, the idea held a lot of appeal, but he knew he wouldn’t. What if Beth needed him?

  Resting his head on the back of the couch, he gave a mirthless laugh at the irony. He’d just ditched the woman because he didn’t want one more person to need him but, if she called, he’d tear out of here like a crazy man.

  But it wouldn’t be a problem, would it? Beth wouldn’t call him if a killer wielding a butcher knife was chasing her through her house. 9-1-1, maybe. Him, she’d probably already deleted from her phone.

  * * *

  SHE’D SPENT SO MANY years hiding whatever she felt so that she could be the happy center of her family, Beth felt sure Emily hadn’t noticed anything was wrong. Red, puffy eyes? Allergies. Couldn’t be tears. Beth didn’t cry. No, Emily saw her as dull, her life so lacking in excitement or drama, why would she be upset?

  Usually, Beth even convinced herself. S
he couldn’t remember ever feeling as if she was having an out-of-body experience. Big sister Beth, serene as always, sat on the sofa holding Emily, who still sniffed piteously into a soggy paper towel. Another Beth altogether stood watching, but it was as if she was looking through glass.

  Tony was right: this Beth knew. Emily’s tears were real enough because she was good at stirring herself into an emotional state, but she was far too self-centered to try to kill herself. However unconsciously, she was making a point: she’d been hurt by any suggestion she’d done something wrong. And her feelings were so much more sensitive, she was so emotionally fragile, Beth needed to say she was sorry. She had to reinforce Emily’s belief she was always the victim.

  I don’t want to do it anymore.

  The Beth on the sofa was saying the right things. This Beth, weary, knew she had to make changes, or she’d be condemned to play this same role for the rest of her life. Tony could go to hell, but he was right about this.

  It would be easy to believe that, if she was trapped by her family, she’d done it to herself, but Beth knew better than that. Her mother had made very bad decisions that left Beth the only one who could keep the family going. No, Mom hadn’t run off, the way they’d always thought, but she still bore a lot of the blame. Dad, too. Maybe he couldn’t help being so dysfunctional, but he’d lit a coal of rage inside her when he’d admitted he always knew the load he’d dumped on her and, yeah, he was a little sorry now that he hadn’t carried his share of it.

  What was she supposed to say? Thanks, Dad, that means the world to me?

  She had a right to be angry, too.

  As if acknowledging that made her whole, suddenly she was back in her body, patting Emily’s back.

  She sat up, smoothed messy hair from her sister’s face and said, “Go wash your face. You’ll feel better. Do you have iced tea? If not, I’ll make some.”

  Emily hid her surprise with a sullen look. “I want a beer.”

  Beth shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

  She went to the kitchen once Emily dragged herself to the bathroom. Beth found a jar of powdered instant tea, not her favorite, but it would do. She mixed up a tall glass for herself, added ice cubes and sugar and went back to the couch.

  Small and defiant, her sister stopped on the threshold of the living room. “Where’s mine?”

  This placid smile was a lot easier to summon. “You said you didn’t want any.”

  “You could at least have gotten me a beer,” she grumbled and went to get her own drink.

  At least? Because Beth never did anything for her.

  Yep. Mad.

  Emily flopped onto the other end of the sofa and popped the top of her can. “So everything is supposed to be all better?”

  “No, it isn’t.” Beth set her drink on the glass-topped coffee table. “Emily, you need to get some counseling.” Seeing outrage on her sister’s face, she held up her hand. “No, listen to me. I love you. When you really need me, I’ll always be here for you. But you need to deal with this over-the-top stuff. You did tell a lot of people something you should have kept to yourself. Common sense should have told you that. And, yes, word spread, and that’s probably why I was attacked.”

  Tears glistened anew in Emily’s big blue eyes.

  “Don’t you dare cry again.” Beth didn’t even recognize this hard voice as hers. “I’m not seriously injured. You’ve apologized. I wish I thought you’d learned a lesson, but once again you’ve made this all about you.”

  A sob broke forth, and Emily clapped a hand over her mouth.

  “If you start that again, I’m leaving.” Maybe she hadn’t merged into one Beth, after all. Maybe the serene Beth who was unfailingly comforting was gone for good. “I had plans today that...meant something to me.” She couldn’t think about that without hurting more than she could afford right now. “No, it doesn’t matter what they were. If you’d been injured, or had a real dilemma, I wouldn’t have minded canceling. But I had to come running over to convince you again that you didn’t do anything wrong. It was mean of me to ever suggest you did. That’s what you think, isn’t it?”

  The stricken, blotchy face looked tragic and very young. Beth stomped hard on the pang she felt. Her sister was twenty-five now, an adult.

  “Since we found Mom’s body, I’ve been discovering how her disappearance impacted us all. I know how close you and Mom were, how devastated you were to think she’d left you. I was fifteen years old. A kid, too, and I was driven to take over for Mom. I never thought, Dad can’t cope, we’ll end up in foster homes if I don’t do anything, but my instinct was powerful. Matt—he was already angry, and he got angrier. I think that now, thanks to Ashley, he’s starting to deal with some of his feelings. I haven’t, and you haven’t. I’ve been enabling you because somewhere inside I’m still that fifteen-year-old girl, who did her best but didn’t really know how to be a parent. I thought making everyone happy was the way to go. I was wrong.”

  Emily’s shock continued. She didn’t say a word.

  Beth wanted, so much, to scoot over and pull her sister into her arms, but found the strength to hold on to her determination. “Now I’m going to be the parent I should have been a long time ago. I’m not sure you ever grew emotionally from the twelve-year-old girl you were. That’s not your fault. It’s not even mine because I did do my best. If it helps, you can blame Dad, or Mom.”

  Fury flashed over Emily’s face. “Someone murdered Mom. How can anything be her fault?”

  Beth repeated what she’d recently understood to be the truth. “She was a married woman sneaking around to have an affair with a man who was probably also married.” Some of her anger leaked through, but how could it not? “She posed naked for him to draw that awful picture. She lied to Dad and to all of us. She didn’t deserve to be murdered, but she broke our family and left us damaged.”

  “That’s...that’s a horrible thing to say.”

  “Do you think she was entitled to have an affair? Lie?”

  “If she wasn’t happy—”

  “She should have talked to Dad. Insisted on counseling. If nothing else, she should have left him before she started sleeping with another man.”

  Okay, she’d apparently stunned her sister into silence. How often did that happen?

  “I’ve been enabling Dad, too. I won’t stop altogether. For the most part, I think he did his best. He supported us, he chauffeured us when we needed it, he put us through college.” Oops—shouldn’t have said that. The fact that Emily had dropped out after two quarters was a sore point. Too bad. “I’ll keep doing some of what I have been for him, but not all of it. I think he’s more capable than I’ve always believed.”

  “And me? You’re pushing me out of the nest? Bye-bye, sis?”

  “Of course not.” Now Beth let herself speak gently. “What I’m going to do is get recommendations for the best counselor in town, and I’ll help you pay for visits.”

  Emily flounced to her feet. “What if I don’t want to go?”

  “That’s your choice. But I won’t be rushing over here every time you work yourself into a fit either. I especially won’t be if you refuse to help yourself.”

  Emily cried.

  It took every bit of willpower Beth had, but she kept her distance. She repeated, “I love you,” and “I’ll always be here when you really need me.”

  And then she left, heartsick, exhausted, wishing for numbness.

  Not until she was halfway home did she realize she hadn’t paid any attention to her surroundings when she walked out of the apartment complex. She hadn’t even locked the car doors after getting in. And if someone was following her, it was too late for her to pick out any particular vehicle.

  She heard Tony’s voice, rough with—not regret, more likely relief—saying, Be careful, Beth. She hadn’t been careful at all. What did she think? He’d always rush
to her rescue?

  He had said he still cared about her. Beth winced away from the memory. Maybe he did—but not enough.

  * * *

  THE NEXT FEW days sucked. Tony made no progress on any front. The only word he heard about Beth was from her brother when, on Tuesday, Matt called.

  “Tell me you’ve done some actual detecting and are closing in on the scum that tried to kill my sister.”

  “I’m investigating.” Tony really hated to admit the rest, but wouldn’t lie. “I don’t have much to work with.”

  “You’re an asshole. You know that?”

  Dead air. Matt was gone.

  Yeah. Tony did know that.

  He’d caught another case that he had to work, however frustrated he was not to be able to focus on Beth’s assault a hundred percent. This was a domestic, no mystery, but he still had to be able to lay out for a jury who did what and, so far as he could determine, why. The why would determine what charges the prosecutor’s office brought.

  The ex-Mrs. Schuh did return his call at last. She’d moved to San Juan Island, about as far as she could get from her ex while staying in the state, and had opened an art gallery.

  “I have plenty of competition,” she told him cheerfully, “but a lot of artists live on the islands, and tourists arrive ready to buy.”

  After expressing her shock once she heard about Christine’s body being found in the garage wall, she said. “I could never understand—” She broke off.

  “What couldn’t you understand, Ms. Inman?” She’d gone back to her maiden name.

  “How she could leave her children. Or maybe I should say, I didn’t believe she would. She cared more about appearances than I ever did—thus my divorce.” The last bit was said drily. “But she loved her children. I’d have sworn she did.”

  She listened in silence as Tony explained that they had reason to believe Christine’s killer might have been a man with whom she was having an affair. “I’m sure you’ll understand that we have to look at any men who were friends at the time.”