by Gina Conroy
“You’ve got to be kidding? I was named after an Egyptian goddess. Thanks for suggesting it, sis.”
I sighed. “We’ve been through this a hundred times. Matt’s a perfectly good name. I was young, studying Egypt in high school—” And Fletcher in college. “I thought it’d be cool to name you Ma’at. Not after the goddess, but the principle. Ma’at represents the laws and concept of right and wrong, which are characterized by truth and a respect for life and relationships. It’s a noble name. Lucky for you mom went with the traditional spelling.”
“Yeah, lucky for me. No thanks to you.”
“We’re getting off the subject.”
“And what’s that?”
“What you did today goes against everything this family believes in and stands for.”
“Right … like trying to have the nicest clothes and car. The biggest house and most prestigious job to make up for you not being able to hold on to Jack?”
His words cut deep, but I held my expression, not giving him the satisfaction seeing how much it stung .
“I never wanted to go to that stupid school in the first place. You live your life. I’ll live mine. At least I’m not a hypocrite. I’ll meet you at home.” He shoved past me, hands in his pockets. “I wish Mom and Dad were alive.”
I choked down the jabs, not sure how much more I could take. “Where do you think you’re going?”
“To my Jeep.”
“I don’t think so. I’m revoking your license.”
He whirled around. “You can’t do that.”
“Watch me. I’m still your guardian while you live in my house. Hand over your keys.”
He pulled his keys from his pocket and slapped them in my palm. “How will I get my Jeep?”
“Don’t worry about that. I’ll have Danny pick it up.”
“Sure, Danny. The one you gave my room to.”
“We agreed it’d be a good idea to rent the game room above the garage, especially with college in your future.” And Jack leaving.
“We didn’t agree, you decided.”
“That’s not what I remember.”
“You and Jack promised it to me on my thirteenth birthday. You said when I was sixteen I could move in. But then you gave it to some stranger.”
I couldn’t blame Matt for feeling slighted. We did promise to give him that room when he turned sixteen. But that was when Jack was still around and before I tried to placate my hurt and maxed all but one of my credit cards adjusting to life as a single mom. Renting the room helped, but I was counting on Matt receiving an academic scholarship to college.
Fat chance now. Jack made it clear before he left he wouldn’t be responsible for Matt since he wasn’t his kid, though he’d loved him like a son for eight years. Now it fell on me to provide for Matt’s future. I needed that job at KTXL more than ever.
I clicked open the door to my BMW. Matt slid in the front. I hesitated at the driver side. I didn’t want to fight any more. Not today. Closing my eyes, I drew in a breath, imaging a white sandy beach with ocean waves crashing against the shore. I exhaled, opened my eyes, and climbed inside. Time on the dash slapped me back to reality. 12:57. If I made all the green lights I might be on time for my 1:15 nail appointment. Matt would have to deal with sitting in the salon for a while. I hit the gas and peeled out of the parking lot.
Glancing at my disheveled brother, I wondered where last year’s honor student had gone. There was no excuse for his deteriorating behavior. I wasn’t the perfect mom, but Matt didn’t know how lucky he was he didn’t have to live under our father’s roof for the last ten years.
Matt slipped on his earbuds. “I’m hungry,” he mumbled above the rock music seeping from his iPhone.
Hunger didn’t begin to describe the gnawing in my stomach. “So am I, but we’ll have to wait. I can’t miss my nail appointment.” I held up the jagged, chewed-off nail. He ignored me, bopping his head and drumming his imaginary drum sticks to the beat. “Are you listening to me?”
When was the last time he listened to me? I spoke my nail tech’s name into my phone. It went to voicemail. “Dawn, it’s Mari. I’m running a few minutes late, but I’ll be there as fast as I can.” I ended the call and glimpsed my hideous nails.
“Watch out!” Matt grabbed the dashboard.
I looked left of the intersection where a dilapidated car gunned for my BMW. My heart hit the sunroof, then floated back into my chest. Images flashed before my eyes, moving one frame at a time, not of my past, but of a future without me in it. I clutched the wheel, the vehicle coming faster and faster. Closer and closer. With no sign of braking.
CHAPTER TEN
1:01 p.m.
EYES WIDE AND DRY, I locked on the runaway car about to run a red light, its headlights aiming for me like my hood was a giant bull’s-eye. Instead of the old Cadillac stalling, my breath did. I sucked in oxygen and gunned the gas, losing control halfway through the intersection. The car fishtailed. I slammed on the brakes. Screeching tires. Burning rubber. A loud, crunching thud.
My head jerked right, then left, bouncing off a cushion instead of the side window. Air bobbed in my throat, I spun into oncoming traffic. Horns screamed along with Matt as he gripped the seat cushion. My pulse stampeded, my life teetering on the edge of uncertainty.
Please, please, please, please, please!
Cold hands, almost numb, gripped the steering wheel, fighting, fighting, fighting for control. I gunned the engine, barely missing a minivan, escaped to the right lane, jumping the curb as I mashed the brakes. The car jerked to a stop. I swatted something in my face. The deflating air bag. Unscathed, I exhaled, energized and invincible like I had dodged death’s henchmen.
“Mari Duggins. I’m here for you.” The comforting, angelic voice sent my heart into V-fib. Maybe I hadn’t cheated fate after all. I searched for the big, fluffy wings and white, flowing gown. Nothing. Just as I expected.
Someone coughed.
“Matt?” I turned to see his face swallowed in the collapsing airbag. White, dusty powder hung in the air. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah. I think so,” he said, hacking up white powder.
My cheek stung. I glanced in the mirror at the red splotch on my face.
“Mari Duggins, please respond. We’ve detected an airbag deployment. Medical assistance is on the way.”
“Mari, the car’s talking to you.”
The Assist Safety plan. “Yes, we’re okay.” I squeaked through my burning throat, thankful someone was looking out for us. I pushed the door, but it wouldn’t budge. “Matt, try your door.”
He tugged at the handle but it wouldn’t open. “It’s locked.”
I unlocked the door and climbed out to inspect the damage. A crushed driver’s side wheel and front end. No way was I driving away from this accident.
The pounding in my head deepened as I wobbled toward the other driver whose car had sideswiped a telephone pole. Every part of me ached. The man in the totaled vehicle stared straight ahead. Blood dripped down his right temple from a big gash on his forehead. I cringed.
“Are you okay?” My stomach tightened when he didn’t respond. With shaky hands and voice, I knocked on the driver’s side window. “Sir, are you okay?”
He turned and scowled. Penetrating, callous eyes strangled my thoughts. I’d seen that look a hundred times before. With slow steps, I retreated, my eyes locked on his as he pushed open his door. Tremors shook my limbs while I quivered silent apologies.
“Am I okay?” His words slurred as he stepped closer.
I stared at my car, wanting to flee, but stood paralyzed.
“Does it look like I’m okay?” He touched the gash on his forehead. Wild eyebrows danced above raging, bloodshot eyes as he flailed his arms. “Who do you think you are in your fancy car, running red lights?” Foul whiskey breath turned my stomach.
I gagged on the familiar odor, then found my voice. “I’m sorry … it was an … accident.” Drinking in a long, empowering breat
h, I found my resolve. I wasn’t six anymore. And he wasn’t my father.
“Think you don’t have to follow the law?” He stumbled closer. “Probably talking on your fancy phone.”
I shuffled backward as he shouted obscenities like machine gun fire. Turning to take cover, I saw a police car. But before my nerves settled, anxiety spiked as the policeman stepped from the cruiser and plodded toward me. I hung my head, but no amount of cowering could hide my shame from Officer Taylor.
“Mrs. Duggins?” His gentle voice surprised me. “Are you hurt?”
I shook my head.
“Would you like to tell me what—” An engine sputtered. Officer Taylor held up his pointer finger. “Wait here, please.” He ambled to the vehicle, his hand on his gun as the man tried to escape.
Officer Taylor stood at a distance and spoke to the old man who, from afar, appeared more pathetic than psychopathic.
After Officer Taylor administered a sobriety and breathalyzer field test, he handcuffed the driver, placing him in the rear of his police car. Minutes ticked endlessly as he sat in his cruiser talking on his radio. I checked my watch. Ten minutes later he emerged and plodded toward me.
“Mrs. Duggins, you’re one lucky lady. His blood alcohol level was 1.5. I’ll have to take him to the station to do an Intoxilyzer test so it’ll hold up in court, but he was driving without a license or insurance. Looks like a typical DUI. You must have connections with the Big Guy.”
I glanced at Matt, texting on his iPhone. “I don’t know about connections, but I’d agree we were pretty lucky.”
Forty-five minutes later, after we filed the police report, the paramedics had checked us, and another policeman had escorted the driver to the police station, Officer Taylor had our car towed.
“You sure you’re going to be all right? I could give you a lift home.” Officer Taylor’s concern blanketed me with warmth.
“No, I called someone. He should be here soon.”
“Promise me you’ll get yourself checked by your doctor. Pain has a sneaky way of creeping up on you after a wreck like this.”
“I promise.” I waved as Officer Taylor drove off. A splinter of embarrassment pricked my conscience. I had judged him unfairly earlier, and in a few hours he had managed to plant a seed of affection in my hardened heart.
Standing by the side of the road, I smoothed my wrinkled black skirt and retied my scarlet cardigan. There wasn’t enough time to run home and change before my interview. What would the station think about my casual attire?
Picking at my pinky nail, I wished I could flick off the returning heaviness. I needed to call Dawn, my nail tech. Maybe there was still time to get my nail fixed and make it to the high school to get Matt’s Jeep.
Dawn understood my absence, but no amount of sympathy could squeeze more minutes into her full schedule. She regretted she had to charge me half price for our session she wasn’t able to rebook. Maybe I had used all my luck on the accident. I ended the call and searched for Matt.
Slumped on a bench, he had his phone in his face, fingers moving fast, while my legs ached for a rest. Instead of invading his teenage space, I shuffled to the stone wall near the parking lot strip mall. Leaning against the wall provided some relief to my lower back.
After calling several other nail salons, I admitted defeat, wishing I had kept my loose pinky nail so I could have at least glued it to my nail bed. Sighing, I found my makeup case from my bag. The stack of letters from Henderson’s desk caught my eye. I removed the first one from its envelope. A sweet, floral scent greeted my nostrils. I sneezed. I really needed to get some allergy medication.
Unfolding the stationery, I glanced around and chewed my pinky nail thinking about what I had told Matt. Ma’at represents the laws and concept of right and wrong, which are characterized by truth and a respect for creation, life, and relationships.
It wasn’t like I was snooping for gossip, like Candy. These letters could have important information pertinent to the investigation. I didn’t want to contact Lopez if they turned out to be nothing. I opened the first letter.
Dearest Theron,
I can’t begin to express how special the other night was. I hope you feel the same way too. I’m waiting with bated breath until the next time.
Affectionately,
C.S.
The next letter contained the same sweet-smelling perfume and vague relationship babble. I scanned the remaining four, each one more detailed than the last in Henderson’s relationship with C.S., their involvement in the university, and hinting at an unwanted pregnancy. I tried to swallow the last lines of the sixth letter, but they sat in my mouth like week-old Italian bread.
I’m sorry, Theron, but I’ve refused the money you offered for the abortion. I cannot bring myself to kill what we brought to life. I will always love you, but I cannot be with you any longer. Please understand why I have to do this.
Regretfully,
C.S.
Agita rose, my gut churning like a tropical storm. Detective Lopez would want to see them. But could I trust him to do the right thing? I tucked the letters in my bag. Something pressed me, and it wasn’t my full bladder.
Had I actually stumbled on the blackmailer—or maybe worse, Henderson’s murderer? As I scanned the approaching cars, my mind raced through the faculty members. Who was C.S. and what happened to her baby? I chewed on my pinky nail, yielding to the question I’d been avoiding.
Could there be a murderer walking the halls of Lyndon University?
CHAPTER ELEVEN
2:17 p.m.
“SORRY ABOUT YOUR VEHICLE, Mrs. D.” Danny Evans flashed his Osmond smile and opened the car door for me.
“Thanks.” I waved Matt over and scooted in the rear seat of Danny’s Honda Civic. The blonde in the front turned around. I smiled, sneezed, and pulled a tissue from my bag. “Hello, Cherilyn.”
“Hi, Mrs. Duggins.” Red-rims outlined her cloudy sapphire eyes, which appeared brighter, yet still overcast with thoughts of the morning, no doubt. “Are you okay? You’re not hurt, are you?”
Matt slipped next to me with earbuds still attached like a growth. Danny climbed in next to Cherilyn, studied her with a goofy grin, and started the car.
“A couple of bruises, but I’ll survive. Though I could use some Tylenol.” For the minefield exploding in my head, throwing shrapnel at my neck and shoulder.
“I think I have something.” Cherilyn dug through her big, black purse and offered a bottle of Midol. “Sorry, it’s all I got.”
“Thanks, I’ll take anything that’s legal. There are only two left.”
“That’s okay. I won’t need them for a while.”
I swallowed the last of the gel caplets without water. “How are you holding up? You had quite a shock earlier.”
Cherilyn forced a smile, the polite kind that kept people at a distance. Yet she couldn’t mask her true feelings. “I’m doing better. Danny’s helping me sort through things. It’s just … is it true about Professor Henderson? He was murdered?”
I glanced at Matt, who mouthed the words to some rock song. “Campus news spreads fast.” I inched toward the seat. “I don’t think there’s any need to worry. The detectives aren’t positive Henderson was murdered. It still could’ve been his heart.”
“What do you think?” Danny’s brown eyes locked on mine through the rearview mirror. “You knew the man. You must have an idea whether anyone would want him dead.”
My conviction wrestled with my instinct to shield Matt. “I can’t say. I guess he wasn’t the most scrupulous man at LU, but that doesn’t mean someone wanted him dead.”
“If someone killed him, then are we in danger?” Cherilyn’s eyes darted left then right, as if trying to connect the dots of the past to those of the uncertain future.
“I’m sure there’s nothing to worry about,” I rasped, trying to generate some moisture in a mouth that felt like the Sahara.
“If you hear anything, you’ll let us know?” Che
rilyn tapped her pointer finger to her bottom lip. “I mean, if we’re in any danger, you’ll tell us, right?”
I touched her shoulder. “Of course. But I’m sure no one’s in danger. You haven’t told me how you and Danny know each other.”
“He’s been tutoring me in computer class. I can’t seem to grasp all the lingo and coding. When it comes to programming, Danny is a real geek. Oh, I mean that in a good way.”
Matt slipped off his earbuds and leaned forward. “Hey, dude, can you drive through McDonald’s or something? I’m starved.”
“We don’t have time for fast food,” I said.
Matt turned and glared at me, mumbling.
“You can get something at the university after Danny drops me off to get your Jeep.” My face flushed. Nausea bubbled. I probably shouldn’t have taken the Midol on an empty stomach.
Matt slapped the seat. “Great, I’m dying here!”
Danny reached into his backpack and passed two protein bars over the seat. “Here. You can snack on these.”
Matt grabbed one and tore into it while I contemplated the orange-packaged stick of well-balanced proteins and carbs. “Is it any good?” The roar of hunger protested my delay.
“They’re great energy boosters when there’s no time to grab a decent meal. I eat them all the time.” Danny pulled into traffic. “It’s no Cajun Roll, but it’ll do the trick.”
“Cajun Roll? I could go for some Sushi,” Matt said, demonstrating how selective hearing works. “Let’s stop at Sakai’s. It’s on the way.”
“Sorry, dude. Mrs. D. said no, though I could really go for something spicy.”
Cherilyn smacked Danny in the shoulder. “Get out, you just devoured two orders of jalapeño cheese poppers. You must have a lead stomach.”
I ripped open the wrapper and nibbled at the chocolate coating. Not exactly Hershey’s, but palatable. My teeth sunk into the dense filling disguising itself as nougat, but it couldn’t put one over on my taste buds. I tried to choke it down, but the lump of goo caught in my throat. Mental note: Chocolate-coated cardboard doesn’t go down easily without water. After managing to swallow and going back for three more bites, I wrapped it and stuffed it in my bag.