by Mary Logue
“You did speed? But you’re nearly a doctor.”
“I am a doctor. But doctors can be bad substance abusers. Don’t tell your mom about this conversation. In fact, forget I even told you.”
“Did you like it?”
“Yes and no. It made me anxious and jittery, but I did get my work done.”
“What was it like?”
“Like chugging a huge pot of coffee. Made me feel like my skin was stretched too tight over my body.” “Thanks for telling me.”
“Why do you ask?”
“You heard about Krista, that she did meth before she died?”
“Yes, your mom told me. I’m really sorry.”
“I’ve just been wondering about it. What she felt and all.”
“Well, meth is a whole nother story. Baddest stuff out there. Worse than heroin in many ways. More addictive. Don’t even think about it.”
“I wasn’t,” Meg lied.
***
10 p.m.
Stretched out on the bed, Rich watched Claire folding her laundry. She folded clothes the way she did most everything—slow and steady. After he had dyed some of her underwear blue by putting it in with his jeans, they had decided that each of them should do their own laundry. Now that Meg was old enough, she did her own too.
Claire continued to talk about her day, how Margie had asked to see a doctor. “I pray she’s not pregnant. She’s not old enough to take care of herself. She’s totally fucked up from the meth. She doesn’t need a kid now.”
“Who knows. Might pull her together.”
Claire stopped and looked over at him. Rich wouldn’t call the glare on her face one of complete disgust, but it was full of disdain. “That kind of risk is not worth a child’s life.”
Rich shrugged.
Claire continued, snapping t-shirts as she talked. “This kid has picked half her head raw. She weighs about twenty pounds. She has no home, didn’t finish school, no job, no support, probably
facing a jail sentence. I wouldn’t doubt she has brain damage from her drug use. One of the many times I think an abortion is in order. This is not the time to have a baby.”
“I agree.” Rich knew not to argue with her when she was in this mood.
Claire finished folding the last shirt and took a deep breath. “So how was Meg today?”
Rich had already decided he wasn’t going to tell her about Meg driving off the road and into a field. “I think she did okay. She didn’t want to stay at the funeral, but I wasn’t surprised. When she got home, she asked if she could go for a walk in the woods. I let her. Bridget called later and wanted her to watch Rachel. That okay?”
“Of course. Might be good for her to be around Bridget. She might open up more with her than me.”
Claire put the last of her clothes away in the drawer, then slid in bed next to him. “How is she ever going to get over this?”
“Slowly.” Rich put an arm around her. His book was resting on his chest. “I think it has helped her to learn about the meth. Given her something else to focus on. She said she’s going to ask around school.”
“Good.”
Claire leaned in to kiss him goodnight. She smelled like lemons. Must be her shampoo. He sniffed her neck. “You’re my drink of lemonade. Sweet and sour at the same time.”
She kissed him hard, then pulled back, “Hey, do you know anybody named Hitch?”
Rich thought for a moment. That name did sound familiar. “There was a guy that played football over in Monona. He was a lot younger than me. Think his name was Ben Hitchcock. He came from a big family other side of Durand. Could be one of his siblings. Or him.”
CHAPTER 13
November 5, 7:30 a.m.
A my shivered in the early morning cool as she slipped into the squad car parked in her driveway. The car thermometer said the outside temperature was only 35 degrees. She snuggled further into her jacket. Another hard frost last night. About right for early November. As she drove to town, she noticed most of the leaves were down, except for the oaks.
She decided to stop off at Arlene’s before she went to the sheriff’s department. Might be a good idea to catch her in the morning before she’d had too much coffee. Maybe Jared wouldn’t have left for school yet and she could talk to him too.
As she pulled up in front of the bungalow on the outskirts of Durand, Amy could tell that Arlene was having a hard time keeping up her home since her husband died. It showed in the little things: a window screen hanging loose, tiny trees growing out of the gutter, paint peeling under the windows.
The door swung open before Amy had a chance to knock. Arlene backed out of the house wearing a pink chenille bathrobe and carrying a recycling container full of cans and bottles. When she saw Amy she jumped.
“Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you,” Amy said, stepping forward and taking the container out of Arlene’s arms. “How’d
the funeral go? I had to leave early and couldn’t stay for the luncheon.”
“Amy, thanks. I hardly remember what happened yesterday. It’s all been such a blur.”
They walked to the curb and Amy put the container down where Arlene pointed.
“I’m so sorry about Letty. It’s just a shame. She wasn’t that old, was she?”
Arlene pulled her bathrobe tight around herself. “She was in her thirties. Twelve years younger than me. My mom’s menopausal surprise.”
They walked back to the door and stood there, talking about the funeral: who had been there, who hadn’t shown up. Amy could tell that Arlene was getting cold, standing outside in her bathrobe, but she didn’t seem to want to invite Amy in.
She’d have to do it herself. “Listen, Arlene, I need to talk to you about what happened to Letty. Can I come in and sit down?”
“Where are my manners? Of course, come on in.” Arlene led the way as they entered the house through the kitchen. She walked right to the coffeepot and poured them both a cup of coffee, didn’t even bother to ask Amy if she wanted one, just handed it to her black.
“Just what I needed.” After taking a sip, Amy said, “Good coffee.”
“I figure if you’re going to make it every day, it might as well be good. I put an egg in it like my mom did.” Amy sniffed. “An egg?”
“That’s the Swedish way. Mellows it out, I guess.” “Where are the boys?” Amy asked. “Both sleeping.”
“Isn’t Jared going to school today?”
Arlene looked down at her coffee. “He just hasn’t been up to it. He was real close to his aunt. And then that friend of his from school died, Krista. He seemed to take that real hard.”
Amy knew that was true. But wondered if that was the real reason he wasn’t going to school. “How’s he doing?”
“Not great.”
Amy wondered what they were talking about. She decided to push Arlene a little, see what she would reveal. “He looked a little rough yesterday.”
“He’s a good kid. He’ll come through it.”
Amy wondered if Arlene had guessed at Jared’s meth use. She must have. She was no dummy. She knew what her sister had been doing.
Amy pulled out her notebook. “I need to ask you some questions.”
“You’re going to write them down?”
“Yes, that way I have a record.”
“What about?”
Amy figured she’d start with Letty. “I need to know what your sister was up to, who her friends were.”
“Why?”
“Arlene, you know what she was doing. We’re pretty sure the trailer caught on fire when she was making methamphetamine.”
Horror flashed across Arlene’s face, and hatred. “I knew that stuff would kill her. It is the devil’s work that drug.”
“Yes, I think you’re right about that. Who did she hang out with?”
Arlene shook her head. “I wish I could tell you, but I don’t know. There was one guy I saw a few times. Some creepy biker guy.”
“You don’t know his name.”
>
“I know it sounds strange, but I don’t. I never was introduced to him, just saw him once or twice when I’d stop by.” “Letty never mentioned him?”
“Other than taking Davy whenever she wanted me to, I haven’t had much contact with her the last three-four years. She wouldn’t quit using that crap and I didn’t want to watch her die.”
Arlene stroked her hands as if she was pulling on gloves. “I tried to help her. I did everything to get her to treatment, but she wouldn’t go.” Arlene sobbed as if something was caught in her throat. “She was my sister. I really tried to help her.”
“I know you did. Everyone knows you did. There was nothing more you could do. Thank god you had Davy with you.”
“Yes, poor little tyke. What am I going to tell him about his mom?”
Amy didn’t know the answer. She hated to give Arlene more bad news, but she needed to make sure Arlene understood the danger Davy had been in. “You better have Davy checked out, Arlene. Bring him to the doctor and explain to the doctor what his mom was doing. He could have been exposed to some bad things.”
Arlene shook her head. “God. It never ends, does it?”
Jared came walking down the hall. He was wearing a white T-shirt that hung off his thin shoulders and a pair of longjohns. A thick pair of wool socks were on his feet. “What’s the matter, Mom?”
He stopped when he saw Amy.
“You probably don’t remember me,” she said.
He shrugged his shoulders.
“I babysat you when you were about seven.”
He looked at her again, then gave a quick smile. “Oh, yeah. You spoke Spanish. I remember.”
Arlene stood up and poured Jared a cup of coffee. He sat down at the table and she set it in front of him. He nearly started to nod off. Arlene nudged him.
“Davy still sleeping?” she asked.
“I guess.”
His fingernails were bitten past the quick and looked red and sore. His nose was running and Amy could see a slight tremor in his hand when he reached out for his coffee cup. How was he managing to come off meth on his own? She had watched too many prisoners going through withdrawal, and that was with the help of medication, so she knew how hard it could be. Maybe he hadn’t been using too much. That would make it much easier.
Amy decided to jump right in. “What do you know of the fire at Letty’s trailer?”
Jared knocked the coffee cup over, the dark brew soaking into the white tablecloth. “Sorry, Mom.”
Arlene jumped up to get a sponge and Jared lifted up the cup. When they had settled again, Amy asked, “What do you know, Jared?”
“Nothing. I was here with Mom.”
Amy looked at Arlene. The older woman sat with her head down, stirring her coffee. She didn’t say anything, but if pushed Amy knew she would say that Jared had been with her. They had closed ranks.
“If I made you give us a blood sample right now, would I find meth in your system?” She decided to scare him.
Jared looked scared. He looked like he was about to bolt. “You can’t do that, can you?”
“If we found something of yours at the trailer. If we connect you with what happened at the fire.”
“That don’t mean nothing. I was over there sometimes.”
“You didn’t answer the question about the blood sample. You don’t look so good, Jared. Have you been taking methamphetamines?”
Jared looked at his mother. She looked away.
“Yeah,” Jared whispered. “But I quit. I’m never going to take that shit again. I promised my mom.”
“Good for you.” Amy continued. Keep asking him questions while he was telling the truth. “Who’d you get the drugs from?”
“A friend of Letty’s.”
This is what she wanted to hear. “Who?”
“I don’t know his real name,” Jared mumbled.
“I’m not fooling around here, Jared. I need to know who this guy is.”
Jared started, “We always just called him Hitch.”
***
11 a.m.
Bill drove back from Monona and watched the fields fly by, golden in their autumn color. His contact hadn’t known much more than Margie did. A guy named Hitch was a low-level dealer, mainly cooking for himself, staying under the radar until now. Nothing new.
Bill had wanted to drive back to the sheriff’s department, waving this guy Hitch by the neck—impress everyone, especially Amy.
Amy coming to work at the department had changed everything for Bill and he wasn’t sure it was for the better. He now understood why many men resisted having women work with them. They just confused things. Sometimes he felt as if he was back in high school. The other problem, he wasn’t the only guy in the department who was trying to impress Amy.
The situation had been different when Claire joined the department. She was older and higher up, being appointed chief investigator soon after she had arrived years ago. She had good boundaries, as they said, and kept her distance from them, going home to take care of her daughter. Bill had a lot of respect for Claire.
There was no rule about fraternizing with fellow deputies, hadn’t needed one since they were all men up until recently. But Bill just didn’t think it was a good idea. He needed to have a clear head and focus on what was going on around him when he was at work, not wondering what this cute woman thought about him.
It didn’t help that his former girlfriend had just told him she was getting married to a doctor. She had always wanted money and she had been clear about not wanting to marry a cop. She broke up with him only about six months ago. He still missed her.
And now the sheriff had put Amy and him together with Claire on this case.
Bill drove into the lot and noticed Claire wasn’t back yet, but Amy was. He just had to stay professional.
***
11:30 a.m.
“Anybody here by the name of Hitch?”
A whiskered old man with “Herb” sewed onto his shirt sat at the till reading the paper. He looked up at Claire’s question and said, “No Hitch, but we’ve got a Ben Hitchcock. Will that work for you?”
“Sure.”
Herb flopped his paper down and pointed to a tall blond man bent over a car. The shoulders gave him away for a former football player. He was leaning over the open engine of a car, crooning to it. “That’s it. That’s it. Come on, baby. Just turn over once.”
Claire stood behind him and waited until he had made the adjustment. Following the lead that Rich had given her, she tracked this Hitchcock down. While she was no expert on methamphetamines, this healthy guy didn’t look like he was hooked on them. But he might know something. Or he might be a dead end.
When he turned around, she introduced herself, looking him up and down
“You know anyone that goes by the name of Hitch?” she asked.
He looked her up and down. “You’re a cop?” “That’s why I’m wearing the uniform.” He scowled. “Hell, what’s he done now?” “He related to you?” “Not anymore.”
“This Hitch who’s no longer related to you, do you know where I might find him?”
“You don’t want to find him.” “Why not?”
“He’s a sorry excuse for a man. I’m always surprised to hear that he’s still alive. Why are you looking for him?”
“A young girl died this last weekend,” Claire started. “Don’t tell me,” he said.
“I’d like to find Hitch and ask him a few questions about it.” “My dad might know something.” “Where’s he?”
“The senior apartments on Main Street.” “Hitch is your brother, right?”
“Was. He’s about four years older than me. He was a great older brother. Always watching out for me. Taught me to play pool. Taught me most everything I know about cars. We had big plans. We were going to have our own garage. But that was all before he started doing meth.”
“You disown him because of the drugs?”
“No, I hated to see him destroy hi
mself, but he was still my brother. I didn’t care if he wanted to take drugs and lose his mind. That’s his own business, but he had to tell my mom she could lose some weight on this great stuff. She wasn’t even that fat. But she had always been trying to lose weight. I don’t think he meant to hurt her. I don’t know what he thought he was doing. Hard to tell.” Ben shook his head, remembering.
Claire didn’t know where he was going with this, but she nodded her head in sympathy.
Ben continued, “So she did a little meth with him. It sure did the trick. She slimmed right down. She never slept. She rarely ate. She thought she looked great. He got our mother hooked on that crap.”
“He got her doing meth?”
Ben nodded. “She lost the weight—over a hundred pounds—but that’s not all she lost. Two years later she had a heart attack. She died weighing a little over a hundred pounds.”
Ben picked up a wrench. “I blame him. As far as I’m concerned, he killed our mother.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“He’s dead to me too,” Ben said before he leaned back over the car engine. “That man that’s walking around inside his body, I don’t know him.”
***
3 p.m.
Meg got on the school bus just like she always did after school. She sat next to the window and watched the trees sail by. She missed Krista. It seemed like she missed her friend nearly every moment that she was awake. Once in a while she would forget and think about something else, then this heaviness would drop onto her shoulders and she would wonder why she felt so bad and she would remember. The remembering was awful. Like someone reached inside her mouth, then down her throat and grabbed her heart and pulled on it. That hurtful tug was constantly there, aching and aching.
Meg waved at her house as they passed it. She could see Rich’s car in the driveway. She hoped he didn’t notice the bus. She had told the bus driver she wanted to get off at a different stop today. She stayed on the bus until Jared’s stop.