by Jae Hood
Aunt Maggie grabbed my wrist, forcing my finger out of Amos’ face. “Rue, you’re making a fool of yourself. We understand, sweetie. This boy drew you into this, didn’t he? We’re not mad. We know how deceptive those Montgomerys are.”
Josie shoved through the crowd of relatives. “Oh, put a sock in it, Mother.”
Dumbfounded, Aunt Maggie’s jaw went slack, opening and closing without breathing a word.
Josie smirked, her eyes shining. “I’m in love with Bryce Montgomery. Put that in your blunt papers and smoke it.”
Aunt Maggie grew faint, eyelids fluttering. Saul caught her before she hit the floor and helped her into a chair. He gestured for a flabbergasted nurse, rendering her from her stupefied state.
Nana arrived in the midst of our confessions, shuffling across the floor and giving Josie and me a proud, solemn nod.
*
“Rue, I need to speak to your mother about Lucy’s condition,” Doctor Bines said. “Lucy is a minor. Your mother is her responsible party—”
“My mother hasn’t been home for months. She’s been living in Birmingham spending our Social Security benefits. I’ve taken care of Lucy longer than my mother ever has. Tell me what I need to know about my sister, please.”
The doctor, who probably knew my mother from the years she worked at the hospital, looked shocked and slightly disgruntled by my blunt admission. Nevertheless, he trudged forward, giving me the information I so desperately needed.
“The next few days will be touch and go,” Doctor Bines explained. “Lucy’s body suffered a great deal of stress from the methamphetamine injected into her system. The drug overworked her heart, causing her to have a mild heart attack. She also suffered from hypothermia. Raising her body temperature exhausted her kidneys to the point of shutting down. When she does wake up, and I fully expect her to do so, she’ll have a long road ahead. We’ll try to wean and extubate her within the next couple days as long as she continues to show functional brain activity. Things are looking promising. She has a few broken ribs, but luckily none of them punctured her lungs. Whoever initially provided CPR undoubtedly saved her life.”
Somehow I found my way into Chance’s arms. His embrace was warm and comforting. He smelled of hickory and cedar, a soothing, familiar combination. I cried into his shirt, but he didn’t complain. Instead he stroked my hair, whispering soothing words the same way his pseudo-brother had during my moments of distress. And I thanked him. God, how I thanked him for saving my sister.
*
Things changed during the next two days—life altering things. The first life-altering event was the presence of Graham and Melissa, who’d taken it upon themselves to pay my sister’s medical expenses.
It was by chance I found out about their generosity. I overheard two nurses gossiping near the vending machines on the outskirts of the intensive care waiting room. I wasn’t shocked people were talking about our families. It was the greatest scandal to hit our small hometowns in quite some time, but to find out the Montgomerys were taking the burden of medical expenses from my shoulders was overwhelming.
I made my presence known to the nurses when I stole a sip of water from the water fountain. They scuttled away like two beady-eyed rats. When I returned to the waiting area I practically scooped Melissa up from where she sat reading a two-year-old Ladies’ Home Journal magazine.
Melissa giggled as I released her from our tight embrace. “What was that for?”
I dragged my fingers through my rumpled hair, embarrassed over my sudden display of affection. “That was for paying Lucy’s medical bills.”
Melissa chuckled, patting my cheek like a child. “Oh, sweetie. You’ll have to thank Graham for that. I don’t have the means to pay for anything. Graham brings home the bread and butter. I’m merely the one who burns it.”
“Literally and figuratively,” Tanner muttered.
Melissa and I glanced at each other stoically before releasing a soft, much needed giggle that sounded odd in the stuffy, dismal waiting room.
When Graham and Chance returned from the cafeteria, I gave Graham a rib-cracking hug that caught him off guard. He chuckled, patting my back awkwardly the entire time.
The second thing that changed was Bryce and Josie’s relationship status. Bryce sat in the waiting room for two days, mooning over Josie like a lost little puppy. Josie was the picture of boredom as she thumbed through page after page of old Cosmo magazines, humming in approval when she’d find an article concerning how to appropriately pleasure your man.
He got a bait of it after the second day. Bryce stalked over to where Josie sat and towered over her with nothing but wrath on his face. He demanded she “get up and come on,” which she shockingly did.
I didn’t see Josie much between visiting hours after that. She continued to pop in from time to time when it was her turn to visit Lucy, but other than that, she belonged to Bryce once more.
The non-existent relationship I had with my mother? It remained non-existent, although at epic proportions.
Christine arrived on day two of Lucy’s admission to the hospital. I still wasn’t sure who had called her. She stormed in, sniffing and sobbing, pressing a tissue to her nose, wailing about her “poor baby.”
I sat in the hard, plastic chair as she spoke to the doctor. I dissected her every move, each change of the expression on her face, gauging just how honest she was in her reaction to her daughter’s overdose. I wanted to believe she was nothing but sincere, but the concern, the heartache, was all fake. It was a poorly executed plan to play the role she was forced to play: heartbroken mother.
Melissa patted my leg. “Are you hungry, dear? I’ll run down to the cafeteria and pick us up some coffee and doughnuts. Does that sound good?”
I nodded, her words barely registering. Melissa, unaware of my mother’s presence, stood and planted a gentle kiss on my forehead. She left the waiting room in a whirl, leaving a trail of expensive perfume in her wake.
Graham and Tanner were not as unobservant as Melissa.
“The nerve … how did she find out about Lucy anyway?” Tanner grumbled.
“I’m not sure, but I don’t like her being here. Not one bit,” I said.
Christine tilted her head as a nurse approached her, and they quietly spoke. She dabbed her dry cheeks with the wadded tissues and followed the nurse into the intensive care unit.
Graham cleared his throat. “Rue, Melissa and I have been talking. We’d feel more comfortable knowing you were somewhere safe, somewhere closer to the hospital. We’d like nothing more than for you and Lucy, once she’s on the mend, to stay with us for a while.”
Stunned by his offer, I stared at him forever, that devil in an expensive suit. Graham was a man I’d been trained to hate, but in that moment there were only two other men I’d ever loved more. One was dead. The other sat dutifully by my side, clasping my hand in his.
“Thank you, Graham,” I whispered, noticing Amos in my periphery.
Elevator doors swished shut behind Amos as he entered the waiting room. I’d never know if Amos heard Graham’s offer. With a dip of his head, he disappeared into the ICU. The clock on the wall told me visiting hours had begun.
Melissa returned with the coffee and doughnuts just as I stood. She handed me the coffee, and I thanked her, taking it in my hands, cherishing the warmth the cup provided in the cold, clinical room.
I kicked up a fuss with a nurse who insisted only two visitors were allowed in Lucy’s room at a time. When she noticed I wasn’t about to back down, she hesitantly turned a blind eye.
Entering the room, I ignored my mother who played pity party for my uncle. She was sobbing, but her face was still dry. He was eating it up too, coddling her like a small child.
Instead, I went to my sister, my sleeping angel, who lay peacefully in the bed. Tubing ran from every orifice on her body, and I swallowed the knot of sadness that formed in my throat. I refused to cry any longer. I had to be strong for my sister. I had to be
brave. Lucy would come out of this alive, possibly not unscathed, but definitely alive.
Then she moved just a twitch.
A smile, the first real smile, broke across my face. “She moved. She moved her finger. Someone call the doctor.”
My blubbering brought the attention of the doctors and nurses who filed inside the tiny room, shooing us away.
A flicker of anger flashed across Amos’ face. My heart thumped erratically in my chest. At that moment, I knew he had something to do with my sister’s overdose. And my mother … she did little to hide the sense of disappointment displayed on her features.
As soon as the doctors noticed me in the overcrowded room, they banished me to the waiting room. Sickened by thoughts of Amos and Christine left alone with my sister, I rushed away, seeking out the people who I knew could help me. Graham, Melissa, and Tanner sat where I’d left them, exhaustion disappearing from their faces at my anxious pace.
“We’ve got to get Lucy out of here,” I said. “Amos had something to do with Lucy’s overdose. I don’t have proof; I just feel it. Deep in my veins, I can feel it. You should have seen the look on his face when Lucy moved. What if he tries to finish the job? What if he tries to kill her?”
“Lucy moved?” Melissa’s face lit up, worries momentarily cast aside. “That’s wonderful news.”
“We’ll think of something,” Tanner whispered. “We’ll find some way to get her out of here.”
Graham smiled around the hot swell of coffee in his hands, his lips a breath away from the top of the Styrofoam cup.
“How about an agreement?”
“What sort of agreement?”
“We’ll take care of Lucy,” he said, nodding at someone behind me, “and you’ll take care of the suit.”
*
The building on the outside was nondescript, looking like any other hole-in-the-wall barbeque joint in the South: red brick, crumbling around the edges, the word “Bar-B-Que” painted in large, fading letters along one side.
The inside of the restaurant was filled with the sounds of old men laughing intermingled with forks clinking against cheap dinnerware, causing me to cringe; it was a sound that grated on my nerves.
I sat at a small, round table, my fingers absently tracing the deep scrapes and cracks along the oak surface. Mason jars filled with dollar-store flowers sat on display on each table, a thin coating of dust lacing the stiff, fading petals.
I removed a knife from the mismatched silverware wrapped with a single sheet of a paper towel. I spun the knife on the table, stopping it each time it twirled around, the tip of the water-spotted utensil pointing at my table companion.
My dinner company paid me no mind. He was too busy devouring a barbeque sandwich. The pulled pork fell from the edges of the homemade bun, landing in rust-colored lumps on his white plate, splattering the orange sauce in tiny droplets along the surface of the marred table and the front of his shell-colored shirt, the sleeves of which were shoved up past his elbows. He wore a tie as well, although it was loosened around his collar and thrown over one shoulder.
A month ago, hell, maybe a week ago, this man’s mere presence would have set me on edge, but so much had happened in the span of that summer. I felt as though I were hollow, spooned out, empty, the way Lucy and I would gut a pumpkin at Halloween.
“You sure you don’t want no dinner, child?” our waitress asked.
“No, ma’am,” I said. “I reckon it’s too hot to eat today.”
She wiped the back of her arm across her brow, capturing the beaded sweat gathered there. “You got that right, sugar.” The waitress gave me a concerned frown. “You holler if you need anything, you hear? And I mean anything.”
“I will,” I replied. “I’ll be fine. Thank you.”
I continued to swirl the knife around on the table. The man quite literally cleaned his plate with the remains of his bun, sopping up the sauce with the bread then popping it into his mouth.
“As much as I’ve enjoyed watching you eat everything but the kitchen sink,” I said, “it’d be nice if you filled me in on why you’re here. My sister is in intensive care, Detective Holloway, and I don’t like leaving her alone for long.”
The merry shimmer and shine of the wonderful bounty of a meal departed from his eyes. “And why is it you don’t like leaving her alone? I assure you she has the best care money can buy. I hear old Graham Montgomery is footing the bill himself.”
A wave of anger washed over me as I stared at the man. There was nothing I hated more than a Fed, other than Amos, Davis, Ray … and sometimes Christine, who’d almost surpassed Amos on my hate scale. Memories of the FBI and DEA flashed through my mind, storming into our house, terrifying my sissy. I hated them. I hated them all.
“The Montgomerys have been very generous to Lucy and me.” I spun the knife so it pointed in his direction once more.
His superficial, knowing smile brought a scowl to my face. “And why is that? Why are they so nice to you and your sister? Because you’re bedding their nephew? Because Lucy is bedding their pseudo-adopted son?”
“That’s why you brought me here? To question me about my sex life?” I smiled as his face turned red when the word “sex” dripped from my lips. “You’re so young, Detective. I’m surprised the FBI didn’t send a more seasoned detective from Jackson to investigate … what exactly are you investigating again?”
“The deaths of Levi Bridges, Davis Montgomery, and Drew Kingsley.” Detective Holloway shoved his plate aside, propping his elbows on the scarred table.
Drew?
I tried not to look surprised. “Deaths? I thought they were disappearances.”
“That’s what y’all would like everyone to think, isn’t it?”
“I’m not sure who ‘y’all’ is, Detective.” I shrugged, picking up the knife and digging the tip into the surface of the table. “I have nothing to do with the disappearances of those men.”
Detective Holloway studied me for a long moment while my knife scratched against the table. I knew his game, understood the way he stared at me, seeking any signs of discomfort or deception hidden within my expression.
Our waitress returned to the table, clearing away the dishes and offering dessert. Holloway shooed her away.
Holloway reached down beside him, grasping the handle of a briefcase that sat tucked by his side. “You want to know why they sent a young detective? This is why they sent me.”
He opened the briefcase, removed some papers, and tossed them across the table. They slid in front of me, fanning open, exposing photographs and documents.
“My father investigated the Montgomery-Monroe dispute for years before his death,” the detective said. “As his father did before him and his father before him. My father became somewhat obsessed with it, which is why I specifically requested this case. I owe it to my family to put an end to this dispute.”
“Is that what you call our lives? A dispute? I call it a tragedy, Detective Holloway.”
“I’d call it more of a legend,” he replied. “You don’t understand how famous your families are, do you, Rue? You don’t realize how often your surnames have slipped from the whispered tongues of Southerners for generations. How the dispute between your families has become legendary throughout the South and beyond. Aren’t you tired of the whispers and stares? Don’t you want to move on with your life?”
“If I help you,” I said, “if I tell you the things you want, I don’t see much of a life for myself, if you catch my drift.”
Holloway leaned back in his chair. “What if exoneration is offered on your behalf? On Tanner’s behalf? Does that sweeten the pot?”
I tossed the papers on the table and picked up the knife, pressing the tip deeper into the wood this time. “Exoneration isn’t good enough. Exoneration doesn’t keep either me or Tanner alive. I’ll confess to nothing, Detective. I’ve done nothing wrong.”
“I don’t believe your sister attempted suicide,” he confessed. “Have you heard a
bout Drew Kingsley’s truck? It was found in a wooded area less than two miles from your home.”
The knife slipped from my fingers, the handle clanging against the table. I pulled my hands below the table to my lap, clasping them together to prevent them from shaking. My brain worked to weave together the missing pieces of my sister’s suicidal puzzle.
“You think Drew tried to kill my sister? You think he shot her up with meth, trying to make it appear as an overdose?”
“Your sister has bruising on her body that appeared the day after she was admitted to the hospital,” the man replied wearily. “Not from the CPR. Large handprints on her arms where someone either held her down or gripped her too roughly. She wasn’t alone when the methamphetamine was injected into her bloodstream.”
“How do you know about the bruises? I didn’t even know.”
“I’m a detective.” He shrugged. “Bruises take longer than a day to show up on most people. What you assumed were injuries from CPR are really evidence in a case of attempted murder, a murder attempt I believe your uncle constructed. We know Drew has been working with Davis and Amos. We’ve gathered enough evidence against Amos’ drug trafficking business to send him away for a long time. If there was any evidence he was involved in Lucy’s overdose, we could get him for attempted murder as well.”
“What about my father’s murder? What sort of information do you have on that?” I asked. “That’s what started this whole mess. My father and Tanner’s father were murdered by that man. He didn’t pull the trigger, but he murdered them just the same. Doesn’t that count for anything? Lucy is in a coma, Drew is missing. What if he never comes back? You’ll never get the information you need. Focus on our Amos, Detective Holloway, and leave us out of it.”
“I’ve focused on Amos, damn it. There is no evidence against him, or anyone else,” he retorted. “I’d be more than happy to put him away for good if there was any. It was my father’s dream to end this man. Don’t you think I want this, maybe just as badly as you do?”