by AJ Scudiere
She smiled at him, “I filled the bench. I think I have enough evidence.”
He’d been counting on that. He noted the careful arrangement of post-its, waiting until she’d filled the final gaps. Then asked what they could do to help.
Kayla set Ivy to arranging the sticky notes into a spiral notebook while she and Evan pulled the gears and thermometers out of the buckets, packing certain pieces into her backpack. They unbolted and wrapped the main wheel and pulled the magnet bar from the body of the machine. Then, like silent soldiers, they trekked the material back to the main house.
They stashed pieces under the bed in Kayla and Ivy’s room, then headed over to see what Reenie had for dinner. Heading up the back porch steps, each veered near the edge on the middle board. He made what was probably his fifth mental note to fix it and acknowledged that it was a low priority on what had become a very long list. He didn’t smell anything as he approached the back door. The kitchen had been added into the back of the house, and he perked his ears to listen for Reenie bustling about, but there was nothing.
So he was shocked to find her sitting at the table watching him come in. She had an odd look on her face.
He had only the warning of a stray footstep behind him before she flinched and he turned.
In a moment too short to process anything, a small man came through the doorway holding a big gun. He waved it wildly between Reenie and Evan, then snapped his head at the sound of Ivy and Kayla coming through the door and nearly piling into Evan’s back.
Moving his hands, palm back, to his side, Evan used the subtle gesture to corral the two women behind him. Reenie was too far away to shield without lunging for her.
The man held the shotgun in their general direction and faced Reenie, his eyes angry, “You said they weren’t here.”
“They just walked in.” Reenie delivered her line in her crisp southern accent, as though this man was foolish for doubting her. She looked calm sitting there at the table, her hands clasped in front of her where the intruder could see them. Sometimes Evan forgot that this small woman possessed one fine pair of brass balls.
Then Reenie clenched her jaw. “Ask them. I told you I wouldn’t just hand anything over. We all have to vote.”
Frustrated as hell with Reenie, and sweating from every pore, the man shook his gun at Ivy and Kayla where they stayed behind Evan. “Get me the diagram.”
11
The Overseer’s House
Kayla was surprised when Reenie reached out and took her hand. Her first response was to yank it back; Reenie was the last person she expected to make a move like that. The touch made her uncomfortable, but because it did, Kayla analyzed it and decided that maybe the best thing she could do was accept it. She even offered a small squeeze in return—she’d seen people do that and it always seemed to comfort the squeezee.
They were all still breathing heavily as Evan returned to the kitchen after having watched the man drive off. “He was smart enough to put some mud on his license plate, but I still got the first letter and last number and can narrow down the second letter. And I got the make and model of the car.” He jerked open a drawer, pulling pens and paper, then scratched out some notes. Whether his movements were tight because he was angry or scared or just coming off an adrenaline rush, Kayla couldn’t tell.
Turning to where they all still sat shell-shocked at the kitchen table, he passed out pink grocery list pages. Then he handed out orders along with pens. “Write down a description of him. Note the time now at the top of the page. And note the time you think he left here. Reenie, write down when you think he arrived.”
Kayla blinked twice, then checked her cell and began writing: Caramel blonde hair. About five inches long, all over. No sun highlighting. Straight. Pale skin, peach tones. Freckles across nose and some on forehead. Black suit. Cheap brand. Single-breasted. Slightly too short in the leg and too big at the waist. Only two buttons attached. White shirt. Top button undone, no tie. Wide nose. Green eyes – moss. Round shape. Eyebrows same color as hair.
She chewed on the pen a moment before adding information about his shoes, socks, lack of a watch, height, weight, general build. Then she looked up to see that Reenie and Evan had both stopped writing and Ivy was struggling to make her pen work. Her hand was shaking so much that she couldn’t create legible words. Her voice shook, too. “How are you writing?”
Kayla shrugged. She just had a lot to write. Describing a whole person was extensive. But she tried what had already worked once that night and reached out to squeeze Ivy’s hand.
It seemed to work. Gathering some calm around her like a blanket, Ivy turned to Evan. “Shouldn’t we be calling the police?”
He sighed, “That was my next question . . . right after—” he turned to Reenie and yelled, “What the hell were you doing?!? Just sitting there? Why didn’t you just give him what he wanted?!! He had a gun for God’s sake!”
Kayla jerked back at the venom in Evan’s voice. She’d never heard him yell like that. Ever. Reenie flinched, too.
“I—”
“I’m sorry.” Evan’s demeanor changed on a dime. His head and shoulders dropped as though his strings had been cut. Suddenly, he reached out and grabbed for Reenie. Pulling her onto his lap, he ratcheted his grip until she squirmed and said she couldn’t breathe. “I was so scared for you. And you were so calm. I knew I couldn’t get to you in time if he tried to do something.”
On that last word, his voice hitched, letting them all know exactly what had caused the outburst. This time his words were stronger for the quiet with which they were delivered. “Kayla and Ivy were behind me, but you . . . what were you thinking?”
“Well,” Reenie smiled. “I decided if Kayla was right about the last one, maybe she was right about this one, too.”
Kayla leaned back at that. When had this happened? “Last what?”
“Maybe it was the adrenaline in my system, but I had time to think. It was like he was moving very slowly, so I looked him over and I tried to think like Kayla. He looked like an amateur. His hair was uncombed but his eyes were focused, so I didn’t think he was actually crazy or doing drugs. So I thought I could try to stall him. I wanted y’all to get a look at him.” She smiled at Kayla, then turned within the scope of his arms and shrugged at Evan. “He didn’t look like he was going to shoot me. He just wanted the diagram and he was very clear about that.”
Evan pushed her off his lap. “Did he tear up the house?” He was down the hall before he even finished the sentence.
Reenie answered in a louder voice, but didn’t seem to be able to make her legs work well enough to stand. Collapsing like a rag doll into her chair, she yelled back, “He just said he was looking for you.”
Emerging back into the kitchen, Evan gave a slight nod. “It looks like he didn’t touch anything. But all the doors are open, even some of the closets.”
Ivy looked at them all like they were crazy, and Kayla thought they probably were. “Someone just came in with a gun, held Reenie hostage, and took our property. Are you all going to call the police or not?”
“That’s a good question.” Evan, now calm himself, stayed in the doorway, his arms spanning the space, making it impossible for anyone to come or go.
“What?!” Ivy stood up now. “It shouldn’t be a question at all. And in about five more minutes, we’re going to have some serious explaining to do about why we waited to call.”
Evan walked over and sat down and Kayla straightened in her chair. They had always been a democracy, even after Evan pulled Reenie into the group. So his next statement didn’t surprise her.
“Ivy’s right. We have about five minutes if we’re going to call. Let’s put it to a vote.”
Ivy’s hand immediately shot up, and she looked at the rest of them as if they were nuts. “What?”
Kayla pulled Ivy’s hand back down and continued to hold it. “Let’s look at the facts first.”
Yanking her hand back, Ivy glared at them a
ll, but didn’t say anything.
Kayla threw out the first issue. “Reenie said this guy looked like an amateur. And he seemed perfectly happy taking the fake diagram. He didn’t question that it was protected and didn’t really check it. He just took what I handed him.”
Reenie nodded. “That would indicate that he isn’t involved with the people who changed out the diagram for the reproduction.”
“And probably not with the guy who planted the bug.” Evan added, “I’d guess he’s with the reprint guys. Or else there’s a third faction at play. You’re right, this guy didn’t seem like a pro.”
“Holy shit.” Ivy jumped up. “Do you hear yourselves? You think there are three possible ‘factions’ after something you have and you aren’t considering calling the police? Unless you’re mafia, you’re stupid.” Then she sat back down, eyeing all of them warily. “Are you mafia?”
Kayla laughed. “No, silly.”
“Sadly, that doesn’t make me feel any better.” She leaned back and crossed her arms. “Two minutes, by the way.”
Reenie jumped in again. “It does sound worse now that we said all the pieces out loud. We do have to call the cops. A forgery is one thing, a gun is another.”
Kayla nodded. “But we don’t tell them about the bug or the forgery. The machine works. But we aren’t in any place to go public with that, I can’t hook it to machinery or a generator yet.”
Ivy squinted at her. “Wait a minute. What’s the harm with letting people know about your machine now? It works. You’ve proven that. Isn’t it time to go public? That seems like the safest way. Telling everyone about it means there’s no need to shut you up. You sound like you’re guarding the Hope diamond.”
Kayla sat back in her chair, pushed there by the weight of the world. “It’s not the Hope diamond.”
“Of course not.” Ivy sighed. “Now will someone please call the police?”
“Ivy, the Hope diamond doesn’t do anything. Sure, it’s a national treasure and all, but this machine could change the way the world runs. It can conceivably reduce oil and coal consumption. You were right—the government will want it and big oil will fight us all the way. Do you really think the police can protect us better than our own silence?”
Kayla watched the sheriff’s deputy drive off. He’d seemed young and green. He’d seemed confused. But that was possibly due to how they’d played it.
Ivy had turned traitor and called the cops before a vote was taken. She wasn’t a Reeves. Reeves’ voted. Apparently, Ivy Lopez got upset with people and took action.
The police had declined to show up and the case was diverted to the sheriff’s office. Hazelton House was “county,” and thus the police didn’t serve and protect them. Reenie ran her hand through her hair and muttered, “I knew that. Why don’t we have a direct line to the sheriff?”
She’d already corrected that with a post-it on the fridge before the officer even arrived. And once the operator had determined that no one had been hurt, no one was still hurting, and the event in question was over, their estimated time of arrival was delayed even more. Everyone sat around getting hungrier and crankier while they waited, not touching anything of the crime scene as instructed.
But Ivy acted again. She’d lined them up—and while their stomachs rumbled—devised a plan. Point number one: they had no idea why the man wanted this diagram. They should tell the officer that it had been misplaced by the restoration store. Might as well sic the police on that company.
Point number two: No mention of the machine, no mention of the altered diagram, no mention of the fact that they still had a copy of the schematic. They were to say that Ivy and Evan had been working in the cotton field and Kayla had been exploring the slave cabins—no mention of the blacksmith’s shop.
This lie led to point number three: Tell everyone that Kayla had Aspergers and didn’t speak. Thus her bad lying skills wouldn’t get them all caught in the carefully tailored web they were spinning.
Officer Junior had bought it hook, line and sinker. He had no problem believing that Aspergers patients were sometimes completely unable to speak. Kayla’s work had been not in lying but in keeping her mouth shut and refraining from yelling at him that he was an idiot. And—had he just pulled out his smart phone—he could have found out that nothing of the sort was true. So she kept her mouth shut and nodded some times, and he wrote her off completely as a valid witness.
Then Evan handed him the lists they had written.
“Who wrote this one?” He waved the list that covered both the front and back of the sheet in neat print.
“Kayla.” Evan pointed at her. “She’s not talking right now, but she isn’t dumb. Plus, her memory is phenomenal. That’s all going to be accurate—all the details.”
Kayla nodded to reassure him. That list was their best chance of finding the idiot who’d tried to rob them—Kayla couldn’t count his efforts as a success since he’d gotten away only with a fake.
Later, after the officer had bid them good night and told them how lucky they were, Reenie had fixed them a dinner of soup and sandwiches. Kayla ate just enough to tamp down the protests of her stomach and finally crawled into bed beside Ivy. “That sucked.”
“Yeah, but you did good.” Already snug under the fluffy covers, Ivy looked like a princess, but spoke like a sailor. “That had to be fucking painful to keep your mouth shut.”
“It was.” Kayla stared upward at the gauzy drapes over the bed. It was comforting, this fairy bed. A bed she had never wanted and wasn’t sure she fit in, but it was all Ivy, and thus comforting at times like this.
Ivy’s smiled, but her sigh spoke volumes. “I don’t hold any real hope that they’ll find this guy. I’m not feeling really safe with the sherriff’s department. I hope this guy isn’t indicative of the whole department, because I was not impressed with his investigative skills.”
“What about the guns?”
“I don’t think he could have used it if he needed to. I think he would have pissed his pants first.”
Kayla laughed. “No, I meant, do you feel safer having guns here? Does it help?”
“Oh. Sure. But I don’t think they’re good enough. When she needed it, Reenie either didn’t have one or didn’t have it in reach, which is just as bad.”
“So, are you thinking what I’m thinking?”
“Yup.” Ivy tucked the covers up and turned away from Kayla, but she kept talking. Kayla decided to read it as Ivy just being tired, just getting comfortable. She was about to do the same thing herself, so it was hard to deem it an insult. “Family meeting in the morning?”
“We’ll start it at breakfast.” Kayla felt a warmth flush into her system. Ivy had said “family meeting.” Ivy was “family.”
Evan looked back and forth at Kayla and Ivy.
He wanted to believe the two were nuts, but after last night he was hard pressed to say otherwise. He hated it, but—“They’re right, Reenie. You got held at gun point last night—”
“And I was fine.” Though her voice stayed calm—something Reenie was a master at—her emphasis could not be missed.
Both Kayla and Ivy dove into the murky argument at once, so Evan sat back and let the sheer mass of the opposition do its work.
“He wasn’t a professional. He was an idiot.” That from Ivy.
Kayla hit with a different attack and Evan had to applaud her. “Reenie, you did great. You talked him through and bought us time to all get a good look at him. But if he had been on drugs or . . . who knows, even you wouldn’t have been able to do that.”
Evan liked the “even you.” It was a nice touch, and coming from anyone else he would have believed it, but coming from Kayla . . . well, he knew it was calculated. Reenie didn’t seem to catch that though, and he took advantage, adding his own straw to the camel’s back.
“Reenie, I was so scared when I saw you there. I couldn’t get to you. If he had
shot you, there would have been nothing I could do. And that was even after I came in the door. Before that, all I could have done was hear you scream, and that scares the shit out of me.” His argument had the added advantage of being entirely true. He was grateful that Reenie had held her own the night before, but he’d almost died several times in the process. “If you won’t do it for you, do it for me. Or else always be in the company of one of us so that we can keep you safe.”
At least Kayla and Ivy seemed ready to holster up and go full out Annie Oakley. He’d countered their eagerness by suggesting that they not just carry weapons but be reasonably proficient with them. At the mention of target practice, both girls had gone positively gleeful. While he was afraid they’d just go around shooting people, after last night there was no denying the need to act and to be at the ready at all times.
Reenie nodded slowly. “Won’t they know if we take a class? Or get a license?”
Evan looked around the table. “Which is why we won’t do that. We have two handguns?” He looked to the other two.
Ivy smiled. “I have my own nine-millimeter. I can handle it. I have a carry concealed license already.”
Reenie’s eyebrows popped up, followed quickly by Ivy’s shoulders. “My mother was a stripper. When she said ‘Always carry protection’ she didn’t mean condoms.”
Evan skirted that one, not waiting to see what would happen when Reenie’s southern sensibilities let that sink in. “Then we have three hand guns and four people. We need at least one more. And I, for one, wouldn’t mind a spare.”
“A spare!?” Reenie leaned back in her seat. Evan knew he was crossing her line with the idea of an extra.
“Yes. We got invaded last night. They want what we have, and it isn’t theirs. The sheriff’s office isn’t close enough to protect us. And that means it’s up to us to keep us safe.”
His gut twisted even as he said it. He didn’t like the idea of leaving, of splitting the group and having at least some of the women defending themselves. But there was still work to do to get the plantation ready. They still had to find a way to earn a living. He didn’t foresee Kayla surviving a bidding war with Big Oil over her machine, and that meant his gut was probably going to stay tied in knots for a while. It was the safest option he saw right now.