by A. D. Roland
“You’re crazy, Justine,” West said, backing up. “Are you threatening Mattie?”
“No, I’m making a promise. She’s going to destroy this family, Brant. I will not let that happen. I will not let Ruth Ellen’s theories and lies make that woman destroy all I’ve done for this family!”
Shaking his head, West turned and nearly ran through the house. “I won’t let her, Brant West!” Justine’s cry chased him through the house. He rounded the curve of the stairs and hit a slippery patch of marble floor. He went down, crashing into a bust of some Roman dude. It hit the floor and shattered. A shiny aluminum can rolled away from the debris.
West paused long enough to pick it up. W-D-40. Oil.
Oil? Why would spray-on oil be hidden inside a statue by the stairs?
There was something slippery on the stairs, Mattie told him. Later, she’d told him she smelled something funny, something sweet. It was a familiar scent that she couldn’t quite place.
Holding tight to the can, he headed for his truck. It didn’t make sense. Why would somebody want to hurt Mattie?
Justine had babbled something about Ruth Ellen and her theories. What theories? She was the only one who believed him when he said he’d seen someone outside his window all those nights ago. If anybody knew anything, it was Ruth Ellen.
He drove like a madman to the nursing home, then hauled ass upstairs to Ruth Ellen’s room. She was having a good day, sitting in the rocking chair by the window. She looked surprised when West burst into the room.
***
Mattie plundered through the toolshed next to the trailer for ten minutes before she unearthed a shovel.
“Good night!” she growled, exasperated. The dogs grouped at the door of the shed watched her, fascinated, with their big goofy grins. She plowed through the crowd of mutts and headed for the orange grove.
The dogs trotted after her. Scruffy, the leader of the pack and the only dog that West had actually intended to keep as a pet, stayed right by her side, warning off any of the mongrels that got too close.
“You’re just like your owner, Scruff,” Mattie said. “Quite the possessive asshole.” Scruffy cocked his head at her, his tail wagging slowly. “But you balance it out all right. You’re enough of a sweetheart to pull it off.” Mattie was sweating by the time she got to the orange grove. It was quite a walk from the trailer.
Near the grove, off to the right and nearly hidden by the overgrown grass were the charred remains of a foundation.
Mattie dropped the shovel and wandered in that direction, stepping carefully in the high grass. Grasshoppers and other little insects flung themselves at her legs. Sandspurs left over from summer clung to her jeans. As she neared the house, she nearly stepped on a bunch of bunnies, a mother and four babies that shot away in five different directions.
“Aw, how cute!” The words were barely out of her mouth before the dogs were after the rabbits. “Dang it, stop it! Leave the rabbits alone.”
Disgusted by the mutts, Mattie stomped toward the burnt foundation. It had to be the remains of West’s childhood home. It had burned nearly twelve years earlier. Not long after that, his mother, Carla, and his father, Aidan, had died in a car accident. West had been seventeen when he lost his parents. He used their life insurance money to buy the third-hand mobile home and get the nursery his dad had dreamed about started. One by one he’d added second-hand trailers to the north end of the property and bartered rent for work with the migrant farmers passing through.
Mattie walked back to the grove. West had worked so hard to make his dad’s dreams come true. It was a shame the orange grove was worthless. Why didn’t he just tear the trees down and turn the land into something else?
Oh. Elaine. Surely the little lost girl had something to do with it. He was attached to the grove because he knew Elaine was part of it, somehow.
Mattie began the climb up the hill to the grove. Once she crested the low rise, she picked up her shovel.
“Well, where do I start?” The last thing she wanted was for West to see the disturbed ground and question her. She was supposed to be Elaine. How weird would it be to get caught looking for her own body?
There had to be two or more acres of grove. A wave of hopelessness rose up and crashed over her.
And it wasn’t even certain that Elaine had been buried out in the grove! Mattie knew if she walked through the grove, she’d have to pass through the little trailer park out front, a thin line of trees, then she’d be at the road.
Twenty years ago, the land was different. The whole trailer park was still just woods. According to West, only a few acres of the twenty-acre spread had been cleared.
“I’m on a fricking wild goose chase,” Mattie groaned, sitting down in the high, soft grass. If the little girl had been buried in the woods beyond the grove, when the land had been cleared for the trailers, the body would have most likely been discovered. Same thing for the woods where West’s trailer sat now, and the four-acre plot of land the nursery occupied.
Scruffy panted at her. Mattie pushed his solid little body away. “Go find Elaine, Scruff.”
The dog danced off, froze, then rushed back, head cocked. Mattie laughed at him and found a stick to throw. Still depressed by the hopelessness of her quest, Mattie walked the orange grove anyway, searching for any sort of sign, intuition about where to begin her search.
***
“Is Elaine James’ McKendrick’s daughter?” West gasped out, out of breath.
“Of course not,” Ruth Ellen said.
“Then the DNA test is going to come up negative,” he puffed out, dropping to the edge of the bed.
“Most likely.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Elaine was the product of an affair her mother had with another man, West. That’s why she disappeared.”
“Did you...make her disappear?” Ruth Ellen had a history of mental instability. West hated to think it, but it was entirely possible that Ruth Ellen had something to do with Elaine’s disappearance.
Ruth Ellen snorted and rolled her eyes. “Of course not, West. I loved that baby with my whole heart. When she vanished, my heart went with her. I had nothing left after my sweet Elaine was taken. Nothing at all.” She looked down at her hands. “I loved her, that’s why I’m sparing no expense to find her.”
“Justine knows,” he stated. “Did you tell them Elaine wasn’t James’ kid?”
Ruth Ellen looked up, her brow furrowed. “Of course not. If she knows, Mattie’s in danger, West.”
“What?”
“You’ve got to keep her safe. I won’t lose her when I’m so close to finding Elaine.”
West knelt next to Ruth Ellen’s chair. “Ruth, she’s not Elaine. There’s no way she can be.”
“She’s my Elaine. You’ve got to trust the both of us, West. Mattie is Elaine for me.” Ruth Ellen’s eyes blazed with a knowing look. On edge, West knew without a doubt Mattie and Ruth Ellen were in cahoots.
West shook his head, frustrated. He wanted to find Elaine as much as anyone. Why wouldn’t they include him in whatever scheme they had concocted? “Elaine is gone. Mattie’s just a stranger who happens to resemble you.”
“She’s going to bring the truth to light. You have to trust me, Brant. I’m not off my medication, and I’m not a crazy old woman clutching at straws.”
“I can’t believe that Mattie is Elaine. I just can’t.”
“Fine. You don’t have to. But James does have to. To right this wrong, you have to help me convince him that Mattie is truly Elaine.”
West paced away from Ruth Ellen and ran his hands through his hair, frustrated and worried. “I don’t understand all this. Why can’t you just tell me who she really is, Ruth?”
“It’ll come to light soon. Mattie just has to be Elaine for now.”
“She’s...I don’t get it. Ruth, you’re confusing the hell out of me. Is she Elaine or not? Who am I married to?”
“You’re married to my oldest
granddaughter, West. That’s the God-honest truth.”
“So she is Elaine? How do you know for sure?”
“She’s my grandchild. Look at her. Look at my pictures when I was her age. I know my flesh and blood.” A nurse knocked on the door softly. “Mrs. C, time for your medication.”
Ruth Ellen beckoned West over. When he was close enough, she held his hand tight. “Please, West. You’ve been on my side since you were a child. Please don’t turn your back on me now. I need you, and Mattie needs you. Justine hates me. She always has, and I know she’s going to try to strike out at the one person I need most right now. That’s Mattie. You have to keep her safe for me. You promised you would when you were children.” She sighed and stroked his hand. “I don’t want to lose another granddaughter. Please take care of her.”
West hugged Ruth Ellen. Though she was cold to most people, she had been the next best thing to his own grandmother to him all his life. “I promise I will, Ruth. I won’t let anything happen to her.”
“You should’ve been my son, West. I told your mother that all the time. You’re a good boy.”
“Mrs. Carruther?” The nurse edged into the room. “You really need to take your medication.”
“Oh, fine. Bring it here.” She turned back to West. “Last time it wasn’t your fault. If something happens to her now, it will be yours. You’re the only one that can keep Mattie safe.”
Chapter Thirteen
The fading sun felt so good on her face, arms, and legs. Sighing rapturously, Mattie sank into the ragged old lounge on the dock. She rolled her tank top up to her ribs and pulled her arms in the straps, tucking them into the hem under her arms. She was going to have to buy a bathing suit at some point. She stretched out. Glancing down at her soft belly, she winced and pulled the tank top down over her rolls.
A few dogs milled around the lounge. “And West has got to get rid of some of you stinking mutts.” After spending all afternoon meandering through the orange grove, she’d retired to the ancient dock stretched out over the pond. As one, the mutts all looked up and began to bark ferociously. Frightened, Mattie forced herself to stand and look toward the driveway. All six of the dogs took off at a run toward the house. On shaky legs she followed, adjusting her clothing. Could it be K? Dogs could sense danger, couldn’t they?
Oh God, what if it was K? She picked up a heavy, rough oak limb about the size of a baseball bat. It made her feel better, even if it was almost too heavy for her to wield. The setting sun paired with the thick pine and oak canopy made it hard to see anything past thetrees. She was wearing jean shorts and a white tank top. Nice and visible, even from a distance. Dang it!
A white boxy van pulled up in front of the trailer. No company logos or anything on the sides or back. It could be a client, a private one maybe, but the hours of business were clearly posted at the gate. EME Floral and Landscaping closed at five, and it was nearing six o’clock.
The dogs swarmed the van, but let the driver out without taking a chunk out of him.
Wearing blue uniform-style coveralls, he pulled a box out of the van with him. The dogs didn’t do any more than shadow him up the porch stairs to the front door. He knocked.
Just a delivery guy, then. Her fear abating, Mattie emerged from the woods. “Can I help you?” she called, crossing the sandy front yard, chicken-walking so she wouldn’t get the fine dirt in her flip- flops.
The delivery guy turned and nodded. The familiarity that Mattie felt unnerved her. Alarms went off in her head. “Package for Mattie Smith-West?”
“That’s me.” The delivery guy waded through the roiling swarm of dogs and descended the stairs. “Lotsa dogs there.”
“Unfortunately. They’re all my husband’s. He’s too soft-hearted.”
“My wife’s the same way. Here ya go.” He handed her the weighty square box. It was maybe a foot square, three inches deep.
“Watch out for them pits, though. They’ll turn on ya in a heartbeat.” Mattie scanned the dogs, trying to figure out which one he was talking about. None of them looked like pit bulls.
“Oh, um, okay. All these guys are pretty nice. Am I supposed to sign something?”
The delivery guy had a blank look on his face. After a second it was like a light came on and he nodded. “Yeah, yeah. One second, I guess I left it in the van.” The van with nothing on it. Mattie felt sick in the pit of her stomach. The dogs must have sensed her unease because they stopped milling around the guy’s legs and moved to her side. They remained watchful, even in the middle of the communal butt-sniffing and belly-scratching.
Scruffy hadn’t stopped growling.
Mattie bent down far enough to touch the top of his head. He pressed closer, the growl reverberating through his body and into her leg. “Shhh, boy.” A heavy sick sense of dread settled in her bones.
The delivery guy pulled his upper body out of the van with a black scanner device, like the ones the big commercial delivery companies used.
He made a big show of checking it, shaking it, popping a cover off the back. His frown looked too dramatic. “Sorry...looks like the batteries are dead.”
“Uh-huh. Well, thanks.” Mattie walked as quickly as she could toward the porch.
“Hey, mind if I give your dogs some treats?”
“Uh, sure, go ahead. Thanks.” The delivery guy tossed the eager dogs a handful of dog bones. Scruffy made a move to join in the fray but drew back to Mattie’s side. The growl hadn’t ceased. The delivery guy was watching her. Really watching her. She couldn’t see his eyes through the dark wraparound sunglasses, but she felt the intensity of his stare. She locked the door, then sat on the floor and leaned against it. She had a great view out the unlocked, open patio doors.
She’d closed the patio doors before she went outside. A strangling sense of terror overcame her. It was K. It had to be K. She heard a sound from the back of the trailer—West’s bedroom—and stifled a cry. Scruffy went wild, barking and lurching toward the hallway. Mattie scrambled toward the office door as heavy footsteps pounded down the hallway, through the dark trailer to her. Scruffy launched himself toward the person. A nasty thud and yelp marked the end of his attack. Mattie eked out a single scream before a heavy weight crashed down on her back, and hands latched around her throat.
It’s my nightmare, she thought.
***
West left the nursing home feeling even more conflicted than he had when he went in. He’d missed Emeline by just a few minutes, the nurse at the desk said. Not a bad thing, considering. As soon as he saw Em, everything he was working for would fade away. He couldn’t disassociate himself from her beauty, her magnetism when she was right in front of him.
Ruth Ellen was indeed sicker than ever. The cancer was eating away at her, devouring more and more by the day. On the way out of the nursing home, he’d bumped into her doctor. Since the doc knew him, he revealed the latest news about Ruth Ellen Carruther.
It wouldn’t be long before the tumors became fatal. Six months, maybe—just maybe—if she responds to radiation, a year.
West sighed. My life is measured in a single year, now. First with Ruth Ellen, then with Mattie. What happens when this year is over?
Where would he be? Who would he be? Mattie was engraining herself in him. It had only been a week, but he could already feel her in his blood. Flesh of my flesh, he thought sarcastically, mocking the words of the minister that had performed the marriage. Farce of a marriage, he mentally corrected himself.
He got in his truck without incident and headed for home in the darkening twilight. Mattie hated being home alone at night. He’d told her he would be home in time for supper.
On the long drive home, he thought about what Ruth Ellen had told him. “She’s my Elaine.” Ruth Ellen insisted he trust her and trust Mattie. “I don’t know if I can.” West turned down his driveway, pulled up to the gate. He paused. It was open. Weird.
Mattie wasn’t Elaine. Ruth had been emphatic that Mattie was another granddaugh
ter. She didn’t argue that she wasn’t Elaine; she’d insisted that Mattie had to be Elaine for now, and that he had to trust her. What was he supposed to trust her with? She’d lied, and was living a lie. How could he trust her after that?
Damn, just what I needed. More obligations.
***
The trailer was dark except for the light in the kitchen, shining through the narrow window in the dining-walkthrough. He pounded up the steps, barely able to make out his hand on the rail. One step away from the porch, he tripped over something cool and furry.
He went flying face-first to the porch floor. His hand landed in something cold and slimy. He recognized the smell. Dog puke. Wonderful. Damn animals. Must have been the one laying on the top step.
Come to think of it though, the dog hadn’t so much as twitched, even though West had one knee planted squarely in its belly.
Oh no. The damn dog had died on the porch. Which one was it? He hadn’t noticed any of them acting sick.
“Mattie, turn on the porch light!” he bellowed. A second later he heard her light footsteps, and the yellow bug-light flicked on.
He got to his feet around the dog and hopped down the remaining stairs so he could reach the water spigot close to the edge of the house. Another dog lay next to the PVC pipe, tongue lolling, eyes dully reflecting the bright yellow light.
“What the...?”
He turned on the water and rinsed the crud off his hand. After scrubbing it dry on his jeans, he turned around to go back up the porch and froze.