DON'T LIE TO ME: Eva Rae Thomas Mystery #1

by Rose, Willow

  "It's not a honeymoon, sweetie," I said. "That would require them being married, which they are not."

  "Yet," my fourteen-year-old daughter, Olivia, grumbled from the doorway.

  "Hi, honey, are you hungry?" I asked, hoping to take the conversation elsewhere. She shook her head. I was worried about her since she hadn't talked much to any of us since her dad told us he was going to live at Kimmie's apartment from now on.

  I still couldn't believe he would do this to us…throw fifteen years of marriage down the drain just like that. No…I am sorry, or I hate to do this to you all. There were simply five devastating words—said over the phone—that still rung in my head:

  I am not coming home.

  "But, Mo-om, what do I do about my computer?" Christine asked.

  I stared at her, then at the boxes behind her. The moving truck had brought it all two days earlier, and I still hadn't unpacked half of them.

  "I don't know," I said with a deep sigh. "Maybe I can take it to an Apple store next week?"

  "Next week?" she whined. "Next week? I can't wait that long. I have math I need to do."

  "Use my computer," I said. "You can access Google classroom from anywhere."

  Christine made an annoyed almost gasping sound. I could tell by the look on her face that the thought of being without her computer for more than an hour was too much for her to handle, let alone several days. I knew the computer was her entire life, next to her phone, naturally, but she was on that darn thing all day when she wasn't in school. I had no idea what she did on it, but so far, I hadn't given it much thought either. I was in way over my head here, and what she was doing on her computer was the least of my problems.

  "I won't do it," she said with an air of finality like there was nothing I could do or say that would make her accept the fact. This computer had to be fixed, now. That was the only solution she would take. But I just didn't have time for it right now. I was planning on unpacking all day and then hopefully getting some work done before going to bed.

  "I am sorry, sweetie," I said. "But it's the best I got. I can do it first thing Monday morning, okay?"

  My daughter grumbled loudly, then placed the computer on the counter.

  "This would never have happened if dad was here," she said, then walked out the door.

  I swallowed with the sensation of guilt fluttering in my stomach. I could have told her off; I could have said something back to make her behave, but I didn't.

  Because—let's face it—she was right.

  Chapter 2

  I had just hung up with the local pizza place when the doorbell rang. I opened the door and found my mom and dad on the other side. My mom held up a casserole for me.

  "It's vegan," she said.

  "Yum," I said without meaning it.

  My mother looked at me victoriously. "I told your dad you didn't have time to cook."

  I shrugged as they walked inside, and I closed the door behind them. "I ordered pizza. Does that count as cooking?"

  My mom snorted. "Most certainly not. That's not food, Eva Rae Thomas. You really should start to think about what you eat."

  She gave me a disapproving look, and I felt guilty once again. Yes, I had let myself go after the third child. And it hadn't been easy to eat healthy over the past few weeks with everything that had been going on. I did enjoy my comfort food. But so far, eating healthy wasn't exactly at the top of my long list of things to do. Right now, I was just surviving. I didn't care much what I looked like. I was just happy I wasn't in my PJs all day, crying over my failed marriage. That had to count for something, right?

  "It's good to see you, Squirt," my dad said and kissed my cheek. Squirt had been his nickname for me since I was a child because I was the shortest in my family.

  "The place looks better every time we come over."

  I sighed comfortably. My dad. My private cheerleader and biggest fan. In his eyes, I could do nothing wrong, much to my mother's regret. She, on the other hand, believed I did everything wrong. I guess, between the two of them, you could say they landed on a healthy middle road. Maybe my dad just wanted to make up for what he saw my mom didn't give me. No matter what, I had spent most of my life trying to impress her, trying to get her to notice me and approve of me. Maybe even love me. Over the years, I had learned it was probably never going to happen.

  "I was just finishing up another box in the kitchen," I said and guided them out there. My mother looked like she wasn't sure she could sit on the chairs and not get dirty.

  "Sit down," I said, and they did, my mother brushing her seat off first.

  "Can I get you something? A glass of wine?" I asked. "Beer?"

  "I could do with a beer," my dad said.

  He received a look from my mom, but I still served him one, knowing he wasn't allowed to have any at home. Not since my mom got on her health kick, ever since my dad was hospitalized with a colon disease that they had initially thought was cancer but turned out to be just an infection. Other than that, he was as strong as an ox and ran on the beach three times a week. But my mom only saw the disease and, over the past two years, she had been almost hysterical about what he ate or drank. I figured she had been terrified of losing him and scared of the loss of control she had suddenly felt, and therefore thought, if only she controlled what he ate, she could somehow get some stability in the chaos she felt inside. Emotions weren't easy for my mother and, over the years, I had learned to read between the lines to figure out how she really felt. I guess I never really felt like I knew her very well, but it had gotten better. I wanted it to. I wanted to be closer to them both, and that was why I had decided to move back to Cocoa Beach, where I was born and raised.

  My dad drank from the beer with a satisfied expression on his face while my mom looked like I had served her lemon juice.

  "We should probably eat that casserole while it’s hot," she grumbled and got to her feet. "I'll set the table. Where are your plates?"

  "In one of the brown boxes over there," I said and pointed at a stack of boxes leaning against the wall.

  "You haven't even unpacked your plates?" she said. "You've been here a week?"

  "I haven't gotten to it yet. Besides, the boxes only came two days ago."

  "But still…? You certainly…you must have plates. What have you been eating from?" she asked, appalled.

  "Pizza boxes, using napkins," I said with a shrug.

  "Why, I have never. Why would you do that? You have children, Eva Rae Thomas. They need plates. They need things to be like they used to be. They need stability."

  I bit my lip, knowing she wasn't actually talking about plates anymore. This was about something else. I knew she blamed me for Chad leaving us. Of course, she did. Why wouldn't she? She had never approved of me working and having a career.

  "Yeah, well, you can't really control everything in life, can you? Sometimes you have to improvise, work with what you've got," I said, then walked to the counter and poured myself a glass of wine.

  Chapter 3

  Dinner went decent. My mom tried hard not to criticize me too much in front of the kids, which I could tell took quite an effort. Meanwhile, my dad hung out with Alex, and they talked about fire trucks, which was Alex's favorite subject to discuss. During the conversation, Alex got really loud and was almost yelling. My mom sent me a look.

  "Alex, sweetie, remember to use your inside voice," I said, then added, "Grandma has a hangover and doesn’t like loud noises."

  "What's a hangover, Grandma?" Alex asked while my mom hissed at me.

  "Eva Rae Thomas…" she turned and looked at my dad. "Jon, did you hear what she said?"

  My dad and I locked eyes, and he struggled not to laugh. I chuckled, then grabbed another piece of pepperoni pizza. My mom gave me a disapproving look, but I ignored her. No one had touched her casserole except for herself. Even my dad had thrown himself at the pizza, and I was just happy that I had ordered the family size, so there was enough for everyone.

 
; Alex grabbed my dad by the hand and pulled him up to his room to show him all his books on fire trucks. I loved seeing the two of them together. It was great for Alex to have a male role model these days, and not many understood him. I had enrolled him in my old elementary school, Theodore Roosevelt Elementary School, as soon as we got here, but almost every day he had come home with notes from the teacher about his bad behavior. He was loud and refused to sit still, she said. It was never a problem before, so I told her it was probably all the new things going on in his life, plus the fact that his dad wasn't with him anymore. But as I said that to his teacher, I realized I actually didn't even know if it had been an issue earlier in his life. Chad and I had drifted apart over the past several years and hadn't talked much about those things. And the last thing I wanted was to call him in Greece and ask. I was determined to do this myself without his help. He was the one who had decided to pick up and leave. I was these children's mother. Of course, I could take care of them, even if it had to be alone.

  "He's very loud, isn't he?" my mom said in almost a whisper. "And wild. Keep an eye on him all the time. You heard about that girl who was kidnapped recently, right?"

  I had. How could I not? It was everywhere. It was all over the news constantly; they had put up posters downtown, and it was on the lips of everyone I met. A young girl, twelve years old, and a local surf-idol, the new Kelly Slater, if there ever was one, had gone missing from a Girl Scout camp three months ago. They had made several arrests but not found who took her yet, nor had they found her. As every day passed, it became less and less likely they'd find her alive. From my experience, it was very improbable that she would show up alive after so long. Still, the locals kept up their hope. Some even believed her father had taken her since there had been a dispute between the parents during their divorce. But her dad had been questioned, and there had been no sign that he might have taken her. Personally, I thought the local police seemed to have let him off a little easy since I would have gone harder on him, knowing kidnappings were most often done by family members, but it wasn't my case, and I was done with that part of my life.

  "You need to keep him home till it's safe to go out," my mom continued. "Till they catch this guy. Especially with that wild nature of his. He might get himself in trouble, you know. He's trouble waiting to happen. I see it in his eyes. He's got that crazy look. I don't see it in other children. Lord knows, I never saw it in mine."

  I shrugged. My mom never had boys; how would she know if he was wilder than others?

  "He's a boy," I said. "They get wild sometimes. There's nothing wrong with him. He's just been through a lot lately."

  "He sure has," she said and gave me another look.

  "Okay, just say it, will you?" I said, sensing I had to stop with the wine now before I said something I would regret later on.

  But my mom didn't. She never said anything directly to me. It was all between the lines and in her looks. I felt like screaming at her to just speak out. Just be honest.

  "Say what?" she asked.

  "You blame me for Chad leaving, don't you?" I swallowed the lump that was growing in my throat. "Because, of course, it’s my fault, just like everything else in life. Ever since…that day. Was it also my fault dad got an infected colon, huh?"

  She shook her head, then looked away.

  I felt tears pressing behind my eyes and couldn't really hold them back anymore. A couple rolled down my cheeks. I felt so helpless, so lost. I had rented this strange house and had no idea if I would be able to afford to live in it. I didn't even know how to buy enough milk for my kids.

  I stared at my mother, secretly praying she would stretch out her arms and just hold me. But she didn't. She spotted the tears, then sat there like she was paralyzed and looked at me before she finally rose to her feet.

  "It's late. We should probably get home. Your dad needs his rest. Eight hours every night, per doctor’s orders."

  I can't even remember the last time you touched me, Mom. Can't you just give me a hug? Can't you just put your arm around me and tell me it'll be all right? That I am going to make it?

  I looked after my mom as she walked up to Alex's room to get my dad. Seconds later, they had both left, and I was once again alone with my thoughts, the smell of vegan casserole lingering in my nostrils.

  I wiped away my tears and finished my glass of wine, reminding myself I had decided not to feel sorry for myself in this, when Alex climbed into my lap and attacked me with a toy fire truck, making me laugh. I rustled his hair and kissed his forehead with a sniffle.

  "We're going to be fine, aren't we?" I asked the child like he understood.

  He gave me one of his endearing smiles. "I like it better here, Mom. You're home a lot more, and you don't yell as loud as Dad. Besides, you smell better."

  "I sure do," I said, chuckling, hugging my son closer.

  Chapter 4

  The light is bright, almost too bright, and it hurts my eyes as I look up to the ceiling. I can't find my mom. Sydney is standing a few steps to my right, looking at a doll. Mom went down another aisle, and I don't know which one. Panic is about to erupt, but I don't dare to cry. My sister will only think I am a wimp.

  "Are you lost, little girl?"

  I look up. The man has no face in the light coming from behind him. He's wearing a green sweater. It's winter in Florida.

  "No."

  "Tsk. Tsk. Don't lie to me, little girl."

  I shake my head. "I am not. Mommy's right over there."

  He looks but can't see her. Neither can I, but I won't admit it. I don't want him to know that I don't know where my mom is. I feel scared. Sydney doesn’t see anything. She keeps pulling Barbie dolls down from the shelves.

  "Let me take you to her," the man says.

  The faceless man grabs my arm and pulls. I freeze up. A lady passes with her cart, pushing it in front of her. The man smiles at her, then explains that his daughter is upset because he wouldn't get her a toy. The woman tells him her son just threw a fit because she wouldn't give him candy, then continues, smiling at me. I want to scream, but I don't. Why don't I?

  I woke up with a start, bathed in sweat, gasping for air, heart thumping in my chest. It was still dark out, and my phone told me it was three in the morning. I couldn't sleep, so I got up, then walked down to the kitchen and grabbed a glass of water. In the dark window, I spotted my own reflection, then thought I saw the faceless man standing behind me, I gasped and pulled away. I closed my eyes for a few seconds, reminding myself it was nothing but a dream, then took in a few deep breaths before I once again opened my eyes and the man was gone.

  I drank some more water while trying to get the dream out of my mind, but it didn’t help. I then decided to go for a run. I found my running clothes and left the house, then ran down my street, where all the dark houses stared back at me.

  With music blasting loudly in my ears, I ran through my new neighborhood where the houses had canals on both sides of them and boats in their backyards. Since I had grown up in Cocoa Beach, I still knew my way around town, and soon I was running down Minutemen Causeway toward downtown, panting loudly. It wasn't a very big town, and one that lived mostly off tourism and the notorious snowbirds that came down from up north and stayed the winter in their condos on the beach.

  I ran past City Hall that also housed the police station, and the newly built fire station next to it that I had promised Alex we'd visit one day. I continued down to the beach and turned left, running toward the pier. As my feet hit the sand by the restaurant, Coconuts on the Beach, I began to run faster, trying to get rid of that grisly feeling the dream had left me with, trying to shake every emotion it had stirred up inside of me. You might say I was trying to run from it, but I wasn't doing a very good job. No matter how fast I went, no matter how much I pushed myself to my maximum, I couldn't get rid of it. Soon, I ran out of energy and had to stop, realizing I was very far from the shape I used to be in. The past few years had been a lot of desk work a
nd, even though I tried my best to keep in shape, I had to admit I hadn't been doing enough. It was one of my promises to myself when I decided to leave my job and come down here, to get back in shape. Three children, too many pastries, and no exercise hadn't done much good for my body. To think I had once been the fastest in our unit.

  You're forty-one, Eva Rae. You're not dead yet. You can still get it back.

  I sat in the sand by the pier and stared out at the ocean so calm and beautiful. The moonlight was glittering on the surface, and I suddenly remembered all the evenings I had hung out here with my friends, drinking beer under the pier when we weren't allowed to yet, listening to Michael Jackson on cassette tapes, sitting around bonfires till the police chief came by and told us to get out of there, confiscating our beers. We knew he wouldn't tell our parents if we let him take the beers for him and his colleagues. That was how things worked back then. I wondered if kids still hung out under the pier at night. Cocoa Beach was the kind of town that didn't really change much, and right now, that was exactly what I needed. I’d had change enough for a lifetime over these past couple of weeks.

  Chapter 5

  I stayed under the pier for a few more minutes, thinking about Chad and our life together, then cursed him for ruining everything, before once again ending up blaming myself because I hadn't taken proper care of what I had. It was the same circle of thoughts that would rush through me every night and even during the daytime.

  Then I decided it was time to get back. Alex had suffered from nightmares a lot since his dad left, and I couldn't risk he would wake up and come to my room and not find me there. Luckily, his two older sisters were there in case it happened, and to my regret, he more often than not crept into Christine's bed instead of mine. I guess it had become a habit of his over the past several years since I had been away a lot on the job, and was often gone at night when they needed my assistance somewhere in the country.