She found a tee shirt and jeans and pulled them on without bothering with underwear. “Look, you don’t have to hang around,” she said as she came out of her room. He wasn’t there. “Oh.”
Then as she exited her front door she saw him. He crouched down by a car across the street. He looked over at her and motioned for her to come over.
“Is your cat Siamese?” he whispered.
“He’s a Birman, but they kind of look Siamese,” she said.
He pointed under the car. She crouched. Sure enough. “Binky,” she said. “Hey, Binks, come here baby.” Binky’s eyes glowed but he didn’t come closer.
“I’ll check further down the street for the other one,” Seong said.
“Her name is Blossom, and she’s white,” Veronica agreed. “Hey Binky. Come on, Binky-baby. You can come out.”
As soon as Seong was far enough away Binky came slinking out. She grabbed him and held him against her chest.
“Poor Binks, you must have been scared,” she said, and tears sprang to her eyes. “Mommy was scared too, baby. I’ll just put you in the bedroom and go get Bloss, okay?” He struggled a little and she clutched the scruff of his neck, so he went into a fetal position. He was a heavy cat so she couldn’t carry him like that, but just holding his scruff made him calm enough so she could trot back to the house and put him in her room.
When she came back out Seong was jogging over, holding Blossom in a tight grip while the cat hissed and clawed his chest. He tossed her inside the house. Veronica shut the door and turned to him.
“Okay!” she exclaimed. “That’s everyone. Wow. Thank you for catching her. She didn’t hurt you did she?”
“Nothing a little antiseptic won’t cure,” he said. She started to head back inside. He put a hand on her upper arm. “I can get it at the station. I need to get back. You’ll be alright now, though, right?”
“Oh,” she said. His hand felt warm on the bare skin of her arm, and his eyes were so bright, even in the dim. She wanted to hug him for finding Blossom. “Oh yes. I will. Thank you.”
“Okay.” He released her arm and reached into the inside pocket of his coat, producing a card. There was no ring on either of his hands, she noted. “Here. If you think of anything else.” He handed it to her.
“Okay.”
“Try and get some rest. I may be by to see you again in the next few days. And Miss Barry? Don’t leave town. You’ll be needed to testify when we catch this guy.”
“Great,” she breathed, and her warm feeling of gratitude seeped away.
Chapter 3
After taking a shower and making a cup of tea, she sat with her bruised and battered feet tucked up on the couch and channel-surfed. No way was she going back to sleep any time soon. She felt like the nightmare was just waiting for her. The cats hid for a half an hour then came out and joined her on the couch, and Harry lay curled up on the rug just in front of her. Everyone was there. Everyone was safe. Except Sylvia Gomez. Although Veronica tried to distract herself with the TV, she couldn’t stop thinking about her.
What happened? Who was following her? Why had they killed her? Poor woman. Why would she feel guilty like that? Feeling like she deserved to be attacked. No one deserved to be murdered.
Jerking her head up, she realized she had started to doze. No, no, no. No sleeping. Stay awake. With a determination, she trudged back into the kitchen and made another cup of tea. Maybe if she drank enough fluids the constant need to pee would keep her up. Anything was better than seeing roses and blood again.
Veronica was going to burn that nightgown. She couldn’t stand the thought of it lying on the floor in her room. At least the police didn’t consider her as a suspect. She feared she’d never get out of that interrogation room.
Flipping through the channels, she stopped on a documentary about the Amazon, but the trees had that dark quality of the ones from her vision, and she kept going. Law & Order. No, she’d had her fill of police. She settled on Spongebob. At least they didn’t have roses under the sea. One cartoon led to another, and outside the sky began to lighten.
At eight fifteen the phone rang. “Hello?” she said.
“Hello, is this Veronica Barry?” came a female voice.
“Yes.”
“Ms. Barry, this is Jan Elliot at the Sacramento Bee—”
“Oh, I’m not interested—”
“Just a moment, Ms. Barry. I’m a fact checker with the Sacramento Bee. Is it true that you were held for questioning in the murder of one Sylvia Gomez last night?”
Veronica jerked the phone away from her ear. She mashed the “end” button with her thumb and hung it up. Then she took the plug out of the wall.
Some channel-flipping revealed nothing about it on any local morning news program. She wondered if it would be in the papers. She could see a huge front-page headline in her mind: Local French Teacher Held For Questioning in Park Murder. She shuddered. Then her cell phone went off.
“Oh god,” she breathed and dug through her purse, intending to turn it off. Then she saw the display. It was Melanie.
“Hey Mel,” she said with relief.
“Veronica! Oh my god!”
“What?”
“What do you mean, what? I came into work today and I have this file on my desk with a police report that has your name all over it. What the hell happened?”
Melanie’s clerking job at the DA’s office was supposed to only be Monday through Friday. “You work on Saturdays now?”
“Veronica, focus!”
Veronica sighed. “Yeah. I had a bad night.”
“I don’t understand! It says you found a body in McKinley Park. It says you were in shock and unresponsive for the first half hour—you were taken in for questioning—Veronica, what happened?”
“Oh Mel, it was awful. I don’t know.”
“Well, I am coming over there in an hour, missy. I want to hear every terrible detail. Okay?”
“Okay,” Veronica said. She wanted Melanie to come over. She wanted to talk it through. It still made so little sense in her own head.
An hour later, Melanie arrived bearing Starbucks cups and a bag of croissants. Harry wagged his tail and sniffed her leg but the cats disappeared into the bedroom.
“What’s up with them?” Melanie asked.
“They had a rough night, too.”
“Okay, so let’s sit down. Here, I got you a mocha. Fat free, right? With whip and caramel on top.” She handed Veronica the drink as they sat.
“You’re an angel.”
“So now, what the hell happened, Veronica?”
“I don’t know. I think, maybe, because we were walking around the park yesterday, and through the roses… well, I had this awful, awful nightmare.”
“About the roses in McKinley Park?”
“Yeah,” Veronica nodded, taking a tentative sip. It was hot but bearable and the sweetness of it was lovely. She sighed, feeling muscles in her shoulders relax that she hadn’t realized were still tense. “Oh, this is good.” She took another sip. Melanie watched her patiently. “Anyway, when I woke up from the nightmare, I don’t know. I was just—it was like I wasn’t totally awake. Maybe I wasn’t. Maybe I was sleep-walking or something. I just don’t understand what happened really. But I went to the park. In my nightgown, Mellie! Bare feet! Look!” She showed off her wounds.
“Oh my god!”
“I know, right? It’s crazy. And then when I got to the rose garden, there she was. That poor woman. Oh,” Veronica groaned, clutching her heart. Her chest burned. Her throat hurt. “Oh, I wish I wasn’t too late. That poor woman.”
Melanie eyed her. “And then what?”
Veronica opened her eyes and rubbed the burning spot on her chest. “I guess I blacked out. I didn’t realize for how long until you told me on the phone. A half an hour?”
“That’s what the police report said.”
Veronica took a sip. The hot liquid soothed her throat. She shook her head, and proceeded to de
scribe the ordeal at the police station.
“Oh, how awful. Poor Veronica.”
“Yeah. And then when I got home the cats were both out—oh, and Harry followed me to the park! If that detective hadn’t put him in his car—and oh! Melanie! I didn’t tell you about the detective!”
“What? What?”
“It was the Asian guy, from the store! You know? I told you, I ran into him when I was shopping for the party, and I felt all weird like I knew him? It was him. He was one of the detectives who showed up at the park. He drove me home.”
“He drove you home?”
“Yeah. I think he wanted to ask some more questions and maybe he thought if I had Harry back…”
“I don’t understand, how does Harry fit into this?”
Veronica sighed and took another sip of her coffee. “It’s all so confused. But when I left after the nightmare, to go to the park, I left the door open.”
Melanie frowned. “Are you sure? You’d never do that. The cats would get out.”
“Oh, they did! And so did Harry. And he followed me to the park. He must have thought we were going on a midnight walk or something, and no leash, too, he must have thought it was a party.” Harry stared up at her, brown eyes soulful. Veronica smiled at him. “Or he was really worried about me. Huh, buddy?” He came over and licked her hand. “Yeah. I gotta give you more credit.”
“So Harry was there when you found the body,” Melanie clarified.
“Yeah, and when the cops came—or I mean, when I sort of came out of the shock or whatever—I tried to tell them Harry was my dog, and no one would listen to me. But I guess the Safeway guy—his name is Detective Seong—he did. He must have put Harry in his car. So after I was done at the station… like hours later, you know? Detective Seong offered me a ride home. And he had Harry in his car.”
“And you think that was deliberate? To make you more comfortable so he could question you some more?”
Veronica shrugged. “Maybe. I don’t know. I just don’t know how common it is for detectives to drive witnesses home and save their dogs.”
“Well, me neither. But maybe it’s not so strange. Apparently you were pretty distressed by the whole thing. Maybe he wanted to make sure you were okay.”
“Yeah, that’s possible,” Veronica agreed. “He helped me catch the cats.” She rubbed a hand over the armrest of the couch. The feel the rough linen was nice under her palm—very real and familiar. Veronica reached into the bag and took a croissant. Her chest and throat both felt better. “So since when do you work weekends?”
“Some Saturday mornings I go in to get caught up a little. Just for an hour or two, no big deal. But I gotta tell ya, it was a shock and a half, seeing your name on that report.”
“I bet,” Veronica sighed. “Thanks for bringing breakfast over. I’m starting to feel more normal again.” She ate some croissant and washed it down with mocha. “At least it all had to happen on a Friday night. I have the weekend to recover. Hey! It’s your birthday today! Oh my god! Here I am, talking about me this whole time!”
Melanie smiled. “Well, it’s not like you forgot. You threw me a party and then became a key witness in a murder investigation. You’ve been a good—and very busy—friend.”
“So, do you have plans for today?”
“If Angie is willing to be seen with me, I was thinking about a trip to the mall. You want to come along? We could have greasy food at the food court for lunch.”
“How can I pass that up? You’re on.”
~~~
“So, Mom…” Angie began as Veronica bit into a burger. Melanie froze as she was about to dip a fry into ketchup.
“Oh, I don’t like the sound of this,” she said.
Angie rolled her eyes. “I haven’t asked you anything yet.”
“I know that look. And I know that ‘so mom.’ Something’s coming that I’m not going to like.”
“Veronica, help me out here,” Angie pleaded.
Veronica smiled but covered her mouth with her hand, trying to chew and swallow. She gestured from Melanie to Angie and gave Melanie a look.
“Okay, just spill it,” Melanie said to her daughter.
Angie took a deep breath. “Well. You know how Valentine’s Day is next week, right?”
Melanie closed her eyes, breathed deep, and nodded.
“And… you know how there’s a dance at school.”
“Right.”
The next part came out in a rush. “And I know you said that since I got an F in bio last quarter I couldn’t do any parties or school events until the end of this quarter but I really am doing better and the new boy asked me so can I please please please go mom? Please?”
“That was your semester grade, Angie—”
“No! It was my quarter grade! I got a D for the semester which is why I don’t have to go to summer school—and Grant asked me and I already said yes, come on, please, mom! It’s Valentine’s Day!”
A sound, a little like static, started in Veronica’s ears. She shook her head and tried to clear them by blowing out through her nose.
Melanie saw the head shake. “See, even your auntie Veronica doesn’t think it’s a good idea.” Angie’s head whipped to face Veronica.
Veronica’s eyes widened. “Oh, no, don’t look at me—I was just—I had like a ringing in my ears and—”
“See, Mom, she thinks it’s fine. Come on, please?”
“I’m sorry, Ange. No is no. I warned you how many times before the end of the quarter about bringing up that grade? You’re going to have to tell that boy that you can’t go.”
The noise subsided. Veronica rubbed her ears as she watched Angie push away from the table and storm off.
“You’ll be taking the bus home, then?” Melanie called. Angie’s back retreated into the crowd. Melanie groaned and dropped her face into her hands. “Sometimes I hate being a mom.”
“You did the right thing,” Veronica said. And she felt very sure about it.
“You really think so?”
“Yeah. I do. You set consequences, and you stuck by them. She’ll forgive you. Someday.”
Melanie whimpered and then took three fries, stuffing them into her mouth at once.
“Okay, put the fries down,” Veronica said with a laugh. “Come on, I know what will help. Retail therapy.” She pulled on Melanie’s arm and they both got to their feet. “I saw a sale sign in the Ann Taylor window.”
~~~
Melanie did seem to perk up after buying a cardigan for 50% off. She drove Veronica home, talking all the way about the party the day before, and how fun it had been to see everyone, and how her mother was still talking about how it should have been at her place, and how glad Melanie was that it hadn’t been.
Veronica waved as Melanie drove off and then she headed inside. She was beat. She contemplated the couch, and then stepped into her room. The angels covering the walls gave her some comfort—those that looked at her even seemed sympathetic. But the nightgown lay on the ground. She still wanted to burn it but she felt so tired her hands were shaking. She could picture a new headline: Murder Suspect Burns in House Fire: Was Destroying Evidence. She knew the police didn’t suspect her and she was just being silly thinking the press would accuse her, but still, burning the nightgown might be a bit over the top. She went to the kitchen and got a plastic grocery bag from where she kept her collection of them, and with the tips of her fingers she picked up the gown and stuffed it inside. As she did her hand plunged into it and for a moment she saw the roses again, and her throat constricted—she couldn’t breathe, and a terrible pain pierced her chest.
“Oh god,” she gasped, dropping the bag. She rushed to the bathroom and scrubbed her hands. “No more! No more. I can’t do this.” She didn’t know who she was talking to, and she didn’t really know what she meant. She just knew she couldn’t stand to see those roses again, or feel that suffocation or that pain. Burying her face in the towel she used to dry her hands, she breathed in t
he scent of the clean cotton. “Okay,” she murmured. “It’s okay. I’m home. Everything is alright.”
Returning to her room she used a coat hanger to pick up the bag and carry it out to the small storage shed in her half of the backyard. She paid an extra $50 compared to her neighbor in the other half of the duplex for that shed, and it would be worth every penny to put the nightgown in it and forget about it for a while.
Harry, who had been waiting outside, danced around her happily and followed her back in.
“Mommy’s going to go to sleep for a while, buddy,” she told him. “You want to take a nap too? In your puppy bed?”
Veronica suspected that Harry had some very specific ideas about how he wanted to spend his afternoon, and they involved the harness and the leash. But even if she wasn’t working with two hours of sleep and ready to fall over she wouldn’t be ready to walk him back over to McKinley Park any time soon. There were other places she could take him. Maybe she’d go to the dog park tomorrow.
She found some pjs and put them on, then stood by her bed for a moment. She didn’t want to dream about anything involving roses, or the park, or dark trees. She took a deep breath. “I won’t,” she whispered firmly. “I won’t dream about it.”
She lay down and fell right to sleep. And she was right, she didn’t.
Chapter 4
Veronica didn’t dream of anything in particular on Sunday night, either. The Sunday paper only had a small column in the local section that stated that a murder had been committed in McKinley Park. It was the fourth committed in the city of Sacramento since the beginning of the year, which put the city’s murder rate up just a fraction from last year. The police were investigating but had no suspects at the time of printing. The end. By Monday morning the whole thing seemed to be fading and her life had gone back to being almost normal again.
The alarm went off. She groaned and hit the snooze. After the fourth snooze she had the thought, Well, it isn’t going to get any easier. So she got up and got ready for work. By 7:20 she was in her classroom. At 7:50 the kids all filed in. It was business as usual in Miss Barry’s French class at Eleanor Roosevelt High School.
The River and the Roses (Veronica Barry Book 1) Page 3