by Marcy McKay
He says, “I’ve filed a missing report on your mother. Have you learned anything else?”
“Why should I keep doing your job for you?”
“Don’t you want to find her?”
“Yeah, but I’m still not sure you aren’t the problem. You’re hiding something, and we both know it.”
He breathes out a heavy sigh and runs his hand through his jet black hair. “Listen, this isn’t the time or the place, but you’re right. There are some things you deserve to know and I did promise to tell you.”
He’s so upset that my whole body prickles like a pinched nerve. I feel like all my tomorrows hang on what he’s about to say today, but I can’t stand how much he loves her. That sets off waves of horrible inside. What if his hungry love got out of hand and gobbled her up forever?
My voice wobbles as I say, “She’s been gone almost forty-eight hours now and you were one of the last ones to see her…”
“I didn’t hurt your mother.”
“Right, ’cause you’re in love with her.”
“No. I love her. There’s a difference.”
“Same difference, but whatever. If you love her so much, then why haven’t I met you before? Why has she never even mentioned you to me?”
Again, that crushed look flashes across his face, like he’s a kicked puppy dog. He says, “It’s complicated. We’d fallen out of touch—her choosing. I grew up here, but moved to Dallas after high school to join the police force. She ran away about the same time, so I lost track of her for twelve years. I didn’t know if she was still alive until almost two weeks ago.”
“Just tell me what happened, no matter how bad it is. I need to know.” Turdmouth gives me a nod and that helps keep me strong.
“Will you please give me a second to collect my thoughts?” No-Brains turns back to the steering wheel and grips it so tight that his knuckles turn bright red, then white. He’s holding it so hard he could rip it right off.
I picture him doing the same to Mama in our motel room. Him clutching her neck tighter and tighter on the bed, while she claws at him, struggling for a breath. They’re fighting so hard they knock over the lamp, but no scream escapes. He chokes her, leaving her with Spook’s forever stare.
“Copper,” No-Brains says. His chest breathes heavy, like he’s reliving the same memories. He stares so hard I almost stop breathing. I edge my knee closer to Turdmouth to remind me I’m not alone. He taps my shoe twice with his boot.
The cop keeps talking, but he still doesn’t explain why he’s in love with her, or what he was doing in our room on Valentine’s Day. Nobody is giving me the answers I need.
Finally, he says, “I couldn’t believe what’s happened to Corrine. Naturally, I wanted to help. She accepted it at first, but then refused, so I’ve decided to help you instead. Two lives shouldn’t be destroyed because of the streets. You shouldn’t pay for her poor choices.”
My head pounds and my vision blurs. I feel woozy. “You’re not helping. I need to get back out there to find her, but you won’t let me. It’s like you’re keeping me away on purpose. What happened in our motel room?”
“My shift was over. I went looking for you two to stop her from making a huge mistake.”
“What time was it?”
“After midnight.”
“What huge mistake?”
“She’s in over her head. I’m still piecing it together, but she’s angered Diablo and extorting someone else.”
Extort sounds painful, but I learned from CSI it means blackmail.
“Why didn’t you help her? You’re a cop.”
“She kicked me out. Legally, I couldn’t do anything for her, but I can protect you.” His eyes set on me so hard I can’t even talk. He’s got no right to look at me like that. He’s basically a stranger who wormed his way into our lives. “If Corrine won’t change her life for the better, then at least I can give that to you. We’ll work with Child Protective Services. We have to go through the system first.”
My insides scream. Every alarm bell and whistle shrieks inside at the thought of juvie. Me and Turdmouth tense together, but he fades away under No-Brains’ stare. Only Mama can watch me like that.
Tears quiver in my throat as I make myself say, “What? Why are you taking me away? I’m all she’s got.”
“I’m hoping it’ll be a wakeup call for her to straighten out her life. You can go back when she’s better. If not, at least you’ll be safe and with family.”
Family?!
“No!” I shoot up in this seat so hard that I bump my head against the side window. It knocks the truth deeper into me. He just said family. He’s my daddy. Turdmouth was right. All this time I’ve hoped and dreamed about my father to love me and Mama and save us from Paradise, but No-Brains. I can’t believe he’s my daddy. Mama would never be with a cop, detective, whatever.
Would she? I guess if the price was right. “No. You can’t be my daddy. Mama hates—”
“No. God, no.” He raises his hands in surrender like the bad guys do. “I’m not your father.” I’m dripping with relief ’til he says, “I’m your uncle.”
CHAPTER 27
Uncle slaps me up one side of my head, then down the other. It’s almost as bad as him being my daddy, ’cause it still means I’ve got cop blood pumping through my veins. Plus, Mama’s lied to me my whole life. I scream so loud it bounces around inside the car. Turdmouth stares at his boots.
No-Brains yells, “Corrine is my younger sister.”
“No. Mama’s an only child. She never mentioned anyone else.”
“I’m sorry to disappoint you, but I’m definitely her older brother. There were two of us growing up.” I want to slap the wounded look right off his face. He’s got a sharper nose and a totally different jaw, but maybe …
No. Mama wouldn’t keep from me what she knows I’ve wanted the very most. Family. “If you’re her brother, then why don’t we have the same last name?”
“She’s Corrine Daniels Noblitt. Daniels was our mother’s maiden name. I guess she dropped the rest as another ‘screw you’ to our parents.”
“No. My mama grew up over by Eternal Peace cemetery in a little, white house with red shutters and—”
He cuts me off. “At 2613 South Hilltop. Our father, Pat Noblitt, was head groundskeeper at Eternal Peace for years. Mom stayed home with us full-time.”
That’s the exact address. The sky cracks open and more lies rain down, flooding me with confusion. I don’t know why he’s doing this. If he’s not lying, that means she’s lied about everything, and that can’t be.
But, it can. All I’ve done for the past two days is follow her trail of half-truths, secrets and flat-out lies. She left me alone in the middle of the night to meet a cop, a preacher and whoever else at the Shangri-La. She stole drugs from Diablo, she hid an envelope full of cash we’ve needed to survive, and now she’s blackmailing someone.
Not telling means lying.
What else is she hiding?
I stare at this mountain of a man across from me, behind his glass divider. He watches me with dark eyes about the same color as Mama’s. He doesn’t have her long, straight Cher hair, but it’s still jet black. Plus, there’s something familiar about the turned-up corner of his smile and how he cocks his head to the side. Put it all together and …
Nope. I cross my arms and sit back. “Let me see you.”
He leans forward so close that his nose almost touches the glass. Maybe that’s why his stare seems so familiar, it might look a little like hers, but I need Mama to tell me what’s for real. “Come around here, so I can see you up close.” He hesitates, so I add, “Mama owes me, but you’re all I’ve got.”
That shoots him from the front seat faster than a pistol. No-Brains hurries around to my side, opens my car door and stoops down to me. Even on his knees, we’re still almost eye-to-eye. He’s bigger and burlier than Mama, but there might be a boy version of her somewhere inside him. Right now, I could throw my arms
around his monster shoulders and hug part of her, but can’t make myself.
Not now.
Not today.
“What’s your name?” I say.
“Patrick.”
“Patrick,” I repeat.
He smiles at me. Those nice, straight, white teeth definitely aren’t like Mama’s. His whole face softens and he looks so hopeful, so wanting, so full of happy endings. That’s what he’s craving. His puppy-dog eyes say so.
Me, too, but it’s too much too fast. He’s made me the outsider in my own family. I’m not playing buddy-buddy to someone who wants to send me to juvie, or through the stupid system. Mama was running from him, so he shouldn’t be trusted. He’s probably the whole reason she’s missing.
“Sorry, Uncle Patty.” I kick him in the balls. The pig squeals like he’s been slaughtered and grabs himself down there. I give his chest a boot to knock him down. He flies back, then doubles over onto the ground. I didn’t know a man so huge could curl up so small.
I grab my street sign, hop over No-Brains, then hobble away as fast as my legs will go. Turdmouth bolts out behind me, no problem. Stars twinkle above. Turdmouth hollers for me to wait up, but I ignore him. Turning the corner, I leave Noblitt’s cries behind me, but feel my own coming on. A girl should be able to trust her own Mama.
Turdmouth tugs me to a stop. He’s as out of breath as me. “I’m on … your side … remember?”
“Nobody’s on my side, but me. People lie.”
“At least he’s not your dad.”
“No, but he’s still a cop and Mama still lied.”
“You’re right. Where are you headed?”
“To the shelter to get more cash from Miz Jesus. You’re making me late.”
“You shouldn’t go back there. Both Noblitt and Diablo know it’s one of your stops. I’ll check on the preachers and get us some dinner.”
“Don’t bother. We’ve already missed the service. They’re eating now. It’s too late.”
“Have you met me?” The streetlight shines onto his white teeth. Turdmouth springs down the road, yelling over his shoulder. “Go to your phone booth. I’ll meet you there.”
I head toward my hideout now, taking the back streets. The fuzzy, full moon looks just how I feel—all blurry and out of focus, but one thing is for sure. My uncle?
My ass.
Tears quiver up my throat again, but I don’t cry. Tears do me no good and they’d just wear me out worse. Still, you should be able to stand on something firm like family, or you’re standing on nothing at all.
Every noise I hear outside my phone booth makes me jump. Luckily, I haven’t been sitting here long when Turdmouth knocks on the glass door. “It’s me,” he says.
I open the doors for him. His head pops in, then he gives me a drumstick. “I never thought you’d let me in here.”
My mouth waters even before I taste my first crunchy bite. Turdmouth sits beside me and I shut us in. He devours his piece of fried chicken, too. Warmth rushes off him. He says, “I thought you’d have it all decorated and stuff.”
“Shut up.”
“If it makes you feel any better, the Sanbornes weren’t at the shelter, so you wouldn’t have gotten your money anyway.”
“That doesn’t make me feel better. Why’d they bail?”
“Family emergency.”
“Yeah, getting shot in front of Diablo’s is a real emergency.”
“You don’t really think he got popped, do you?”
“No, but I wish he had.” We both laugh, then I say, “I need him alive to figure out how he’s connected to Diablo in all this.”
Turdmouth nods, then taps his shoe to mine. “I hate to say this, but your uncle,” I shoot him a dirty look, so he says, “that cop called me by name, so he probably knows this is your hangout, too. We better head out before he shows up and hauls us to jail.”
“Right.”
“Where should we go?”
“I want to check on Mama at Eternal Peace again. Do you want to come?”
“Sure.”
“What about your pops?”
“He’s not there. I trust my gut.”
I know what he means. After we close my phone booth, we head toward the railroad tracks. Turdmouth doesn’t stop eating as he pulls my hoodie back over my head to hide me better. He’s not Mai Wong, who knows all my secrets, or Mama, who’s my everything, but he’s still not the worst sidekick. Especially, his sticky fingers. They sure do come in handy. I may need ’em for that last hundred bucks to save Mama.
CHAPTER 28
The cold night surrounds me and Turdmouth as we pause in front of the little, white house with red shutters and a dog named Sugar. The Irish setter is usually asleep on the porch, but he’s still not there. I wanted to hug him goodbye in case I do leave tomorrow, but I’m glad he’s safe and warm inside.
I keep trying to picture a boy named Patrick growing up here with Mama, but my mind just can’t do it. That’s never been part of the story before. The wind picks up and I burrow deeper inside my coat, worrying if the wailing wind waits for us at the cemetery.
Turdmouth yells, “So, this is where your mom and Noblitt grew up?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Come on. They look enough alike.”
“You thought he was my dad.”
“Yeah, but you three all lock your jaws the same way when you’re irritated, which is a lot. And why? ’Cause you’re family.”
I make sure my jaw stays in place before jetting around to leave Turdmouth behind. I’m starting to regret letting him tag along at all. He’s too mouthy.
Of course, he follows right behind me.
“Sor-ry. I won’t bring it up again.”
“Good.”
“But, you’ve got to admit—”
“That’s bringing it up.”
He laughs and kicks a pebble, but it’s not funny. Trying to deal with Mama gone is almost more than I can handle. That mountain of a man is too much. I shouldn’t have to deal with any of this alone.
Turdmouth says, “It’s a nice house.”
“Thanks.”
“I’m going to have my own place someday.” I just nod and keep walking. He says, “I want to live anywhere but Paradise.”
He doesn’t know that’s my #1 wish, too—a safe roof over my family’s heads, the farther from here, the better. I’d miss the Warrior Angel, but think he’d understand. I’d also throw a bazillion pennies into that fountain downtown to make it happen. Mama is still in big trouble for lying, but her grounded at home is better than no her at all.
At the cemetery fence, the wind blusters all around us. I sure hope we don’t hear Diablo crying like the wind tonight. A snowflake drifts by. It’s too cold to sleep outside, but we can’t anyhow ’cause of the Street Killer. I’ll grab that cash and we’ll go.
It’s harder for Turdmouth to squeeze through bars ’cause he’s not as bony as me, but he makes it. The fuzzy moon blurs light onto the graveyard as I weave us in and out of the headstones together. He almost walks on top of me he’s so jumpy.
The wind wails and I stop. Turdmouth bumps into me. That wounded-animal cry fills the air—guts sliced open and screeching, begging for death to take away the unbearable pain. The sound seems to rattle the ground first, then moans its way up my body where the sadness clatters around my head nonstop. Turdmouth tenses like he’s feeling it, too. There’s so much heartache to the wailing. If it is Diablo again. The wind dies down again, but I’m too scared to move.
“Wh-what was that?” Turdmouth says.
“I’m not sure. The wind’s not usually like this.”
He flicks open his wompy, little pocketknife and follows behind me with his blade ready for action. We inch ahead and he’s holding on to the back of my coat with his free hand. There’s only one reason I’m here at all.
Cash.
The moon looks less blurry, so I see a few more snowflakes. Even though these are just foot marker
s buried into the ground, I try not to walk us over the stiffers. “This is my favorite grave.”
“Oh yeah. The Unknown Negro?”
I smile to myself. He’s been paying more attention than I thought. So small and plain, most folks never even notice the UNKNOWN NEGRO. His new neighbor’s grave still doesn’t have a headstone. O’Dell’s such a lazy Butt Munch.
Oh yeah. This is what I wanted to check this morning, but that envelope of cash sidetracked me. There was something else, too.
Wait … the fresh dirt isn’t level to the ground like every other new grave. It’s a mound sticking up. Something’s wrong. Scared nails itself to my chest, pinning my throat with fear. The breeze blows around us again.
Me and Turdmouth lean in together, bracing ourselves for the wailing wind, but it doesn’t happen. It drives on through, though that doesn’t make me less scared.
I drop to my knees and start scooping away dirt from the shallow grave. It chills my fingers, but I don’t stop. Soil flies everywhere.
“What are you doing?” Turdmouth says.
I don’t answer, but keep digging. Mama says I’ve got good instincts, but I hope they’re wrong tonight. A dirt clod pops into my mouth. I spit it straight out, but death’s dirty taste sticks to my tongue. It’s like ash mixed with rotten meat.
Kneeling beside me, Turdmouth starts tunneling out dirt, too, so twice as much soil starts whizzing behind us. A tear splats my hand and I’m glad he can’t see me losing it, but even gladder I’m not facing this alone.
My mind races. Please be wrong, please be wrong, please be wrong …
My thumb grazes across it first. A sob escapes ’cause I know what this means.
Turdmouth’s voice trembles. “What?”
I’m holding a clump of long, thick hair. “It’s Mama!”
CHAPTER 29
Kneeling beside the body, a scream peals from my throat, way louder than any wailing wind. Mama is dead!
The Street Killer must’ve murdered her, then dumped the body here at the cemetery. It’s pitch dark, but I can tell he barely covered her with enough dirt, like she wasn’t worth the extra digging for a decent grave.