These Sorrows We See

by Schultz, Tamsen

  She thought about saying that she did mind him asking; she wasn’t used to talking about herself, not on this topic of family. But instead, she found herself shrugging and answering.

  “I’m up here mostly because of what I do for a living,” she said, starting to explain. “I’m a writer and I think I was feeling a bit listless and stuck working at home in DC. We moved to DC when I was twelve,” she added as an aside, remembering she’d told him she’d grown up in the Bronx. “I think I was already thinking about a change in scenery when Brad called. For some reason I have yet to understand, I actually answered the phone when I saw his number. We talked a bit, he asked me to come up, and I agreed.” She went on to tell Dash about Brad’s additional incentive of introducing her to Chen in exchange for watching the dogs.

  “But you have no idea where he went?” Dash asked when she finished.

  She shook her head as they heard the sound of a car in the distance. “Since we didn’t talk much, I didn’t think much of it. But given that he left me more than I bargained for, I think it’s strange. But then again, maybe he just wanted to be sure I couldn’t reach him once I realized what I’d walked into.”

  As she finished talking, a big SUV pulled up and, right behind it, a police car. A brown-haired man exited the first car; Matty recognized him as the man Dash had been talking to outside the gas station on the day she’d arrived. Behind him, the two police officers she recognized from Frank’s—Marcus and Carly—followed.

  “Ian, this is Matty Brooks, Brad Brooks’s half sister. Matty, this is Sheriff Ian MacAllister and the new Deputy Chief of Police, Marcus Brown, and Officer Carly Drummond,” he said, introducing the officers respectively.

  They all shook hands and the three law enforcement officers walked over to have a look in the truck. Matty watched as they talked amongst themselves, their voices too quiet to be heard from where she and Dash stood. The three gestured and pointed in various directions quite a bit before walking back.

  “That must have been quite a shock,” the sheriff said as he stopped right in front of her.

  “Yes, it scared the shit out of me when it hit the truck bed, Sheriff.” She caught her language a moment too late—it happened to her often. But at least she could blame shock this time around. And the sheriff’s strikingly unusual shade of green eyes that had caught her attention. She filed away the color in her brain—something she often did—to give to one of her characters at some point.

  He smiled and even let out a little male chuckle. “I bet,” he said. “And call me Ian, everyone does. Vivienne is on her way,” he said, turning to Dash. “My fiancée is a medical examiner,” he said, shifting his attention back to Matty. “She was just coming back into town from Boston when I called her and will be here shortly. In the meantime, do you want to tell me what happened?”

  And so she did. And it took approximately thirty seconds. Ian asked a few follow-up questions, questions she didn’t have any answers to, and just as she was thinking that they were going to be forced to move on to idle chitchat if they wanted to keep talking, a third car pulled up.

  She saw the smile in Ian’s eyes, if not his face, as he moved toward it.

  “The fiancée?” she asked Dash. He nodded.

  She watched as an athletic-looking woman with a long brown ponytail exited the car. Pausing beside her car, the woman smiled as her fiancé came toward her. Ian stopped just inches from her and said a few quiet words, making her smile even more, then dipped his head and gave her a sweet kiss. Together, they walked back to the gathered group.

  “Ms. Brooks, this is my fiancée, Dr. Vivienne DeMarco.”

  “Holy shit,” Matty said, smiling in surprise. She quickly continued when she realized that, yet again, her mother would be ashamed of her language. Not to mention that everyone was looking at her with open curiosity. “I’ve heard all about you, Dr. DeMarco,” Matty gushed as she took the woman’s hand. “Pinky Patterson is one of my really good friends. She talks about you all the time. I always seem to be traveling whenever you come to town but Pinky is always telling me I need to meet you,” she explained. She knew she was babbling, but on top of the surprise in the truck, to meet a woman out here in the middle of nowhere that one of her closest friends had been telling her about for years was almost too much.

  “And call me Matty,” she added with a look at everyone else, including Ian.

  Dr. DeMarco laughed as she shot Ian a reassuring look; apparently he was the protective type. “I love Pinky,” she said. “You must be the famous Hilde Brooks she’s always telling me about. And, please, call me Vivi.”

  Matty smiled. “I’m not sure if famous is the right word, I’m pretty sure Pinky would be more likely to call me infamous, but yes, that’s me. It’s so nice to finally meet you,” she paused then frowned. “Albeit under very bizarre circumstances.”

  Vivi inclined her head. “So Ian told me. Of course, when I first came into town, I found a dead body, too. It’s how I ended up staying here and meeting Ian. Maybe it’s just the town’s way of greeting people it likes.”

  “Good god, I hope not, Vivienne,” Ian muttered and she gave him a bump with her hip to make him smile. He shook his head at her, but an unmistakable look of affection passed between the two of them.

  “Something good came of it all, we are getting married,” Vivi rejoined. “Maybe the town has plans for you, too,” she added with a look and a grin directed at Matty.

  Matty recalled the serial killer Charlotte had told her about and wondered if that incident had anything to do with what Vivi was referring to, but it didn’t feel like the time or place to bring it up, so she went in a different direction.

  “As attractive as you three are,” she said, looking at Carly, Marcus, and Dash, “And statistically unrealistically so, I might add, I have no intention of getting married, so I’m hoping it’s just a weird fluke thing that’s happened and not some strange town portent of things to come.”

  Vivi laughed. “Well,” she said, pulling a pair of latex gloves from her pocket. “Only one way to find out. We’ll be back in a minute.”

  The four walked to the truck, leaving Matty and Dash again. “I promise I don’t have cooties,” she said, offering Dash a sip of the soda he’d given her. His was long gone in the heat of the August day. He gave her a look before reaching for the bottle and a taking a sip.

  “Hilde Brooks?” he asked. “The writer?”

  She nodded. “My full name is Mathilde. My friends call me Matty, the rest of the world, or at least those that read me, know me as Hilde.”

  “I don’t read a lot of fiction, but even I’ve read you.”

  She laughed at the disbelief in his voice.

  “You’re famous,” he said.

  “My books are popular, there’s a difference.”

  He tilted his head as if he wasn’t sure whether or not he believed her, but in Matty’s mind there was a big difference. Her books were her books, things she made up and created. Sure they were a part of her, but not as much as some people thought. She was simply someone who had a job she loved and happened to be good at. She wasn’t all that different from most successful professionals—within the world of her genre’s readers, her name was well known; outside of it, she was virtually unknown.

  “Well,” Vivi said, walking back with Ian after leaving the other two officers at Brad’s truck, “The good news is your truck isn’t a crime scene.” She removed her gloves and slipped them into a small evidence bag Ian held. “The bad news is it’s definitely not a natural death and Ian is still going to have to requisition your vehicle until we move the body and any evidence it leaves behind.”

  “Murder?” Dash said.

  “I fucking hope not,” Ian said with a look heavenward. “Sorry,” he added when Vivi nudged him. “It’s just that we’ve had enough of that recently.” A pained expression crossed Ian’s face and he cast a worried look in Vivi’s direction.

  Vivi’s expression turned sympathetic. “It
might not be murder. The cause of death appears to be, from what I can tell, a gunshot wound. We won’t know for sure until we get the body up to the lab. But even if it is a gunshot wound, that doesn’t mean it was intentional. As we all know, people hunt around here all the time.”

  “But what was he doing up in the tree?” Matty asked.

  Ian shrugged. “Who knows? We’ll have to identify him and then see what we can find from there.”

  Matty was curious and wanted to ask more, but she had enough cop friends to know that at this point very little could or would be shared. So she simply nodded.

  “Do you have a ride home?” Vivi asked. “I can take you if you like.”

  “I’ll take her,” Dash interjected before Matty could answer. Vivi’s eyes went from Matty’s face to Dash’s then back again. Matty recognized the silent, female language and gave a small nod to Vivi’s silent question of whether or not Dash’s proclamation was okay with her.

  “Thanks, Dash. That way I can stay here with Ian and the team,” Vivi responded.

  “I can’t tell you how long it will be before you get your truck back, though,” Ian said.

  She shrugged. “It’s fine. It’s Brad’s truck. I have my own car back at his house. I’ll just need my purse from the cab and I have some grocery bags in the back seat that I’d like.”

  Ian called to Deputy Chief Brown asking him to grab the items and in short order she was seated in Dash’s truck, headed home.

  “Thanks for the ride,” she said.

  “No problem. Are you sure you’re okay?”

  “A little shaken, nothing I can’t handle.”

  He glanced at her. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

  Get drunk and go to bed with me popped into Matty’s head. “Thank you, but I’m fine. I’ll probably bake today,” she said instead.

  “Bake?” She saw his lips tilt into a smile.

  “It’s a great reliever of stress and has the secondary benefit of using some of those eggs.”

  He opened his mouth to say something then closed it.

  A moment later he asked, “What will you bake?”

  “Cookies, brownies, that sort of thing.”

  “Sounds good.”

  “Feel free to come and pick some up. I almost never eat what I make, or at least I almost never eat all of what I make.”

  He laughed as they pulled onto Brad’s driveway.

  When they reached the house, she thought about asking him in for lunch. She wasn’t all that hungry and hadn’t left town all that long ago, even if it felt like hours had passed. But she had asked him twice before, once for drinks and once for dinner, and twice he’d declined. He may be attracted to her, but something was holding him back. It was possible he was married or had a girlfriend, in which case, she didn’t want to make things awkward for him.

  “Thank you again,” she said, sliding out of his truck and reaching for her bags in the back.

  “I’ll help you with those,” he said, moving to unbuckle his seat belt.

  “Too late, I got it.” She pulled the last bag out and shut the door with a bump of her hip.

  Ignoring her, Dash got out, rounded his truck, and took the bags from her hands. He followed her to the door and as she unlocked it they were greeted by the barks and yips of the dogs, which turned into jumps, doggy head butts, and tail wags when the door swung open. She knew Dash wouldn’t stay, but she knew the dogs, particularly the Ridgeback, Isis, would be there to keep her company. And for that she was glad.

  She set her purse down then took the bags from Dash. “Thanks again, I appreciate it.”

  He shoved his hands into his jeans pockets and rocked back on his heels, looking uncomfortable. The thought that he might have a wife or girlfriend entered her mind again.

  “Look, Dash. I’m fine, really. I have some things to do today and I’ll just focus on them. I’ve got the dogs for company and maybe I’ll go for a walk later—maybe even down to that restaurant in Old Windsor for dinner, or an after-dinner drink if it doesn’t cool down early enough. I’ll be fine. I’m sure you have places you need to be today.” And maybe people he needed to see, but she didn’t add that.

  He didn’t look any more reassured, but he took a step toward the door. “Call me if you need anything. You have my number.”

  “I do, but really, I’ll be fine. Vivi also gave me her cell and home numbers, so I’m well connected. Now, I actually do have some things I need to do today, so . . .” She let the end of her sentence hang. She didn’t really have all that much to do, but if thinking she did gave him a reason to leave, then so be it.

  “Right, of course.”

  She walked Dash to the door and watched him climb into his truck. He gave her one more wave before turning the truck around and heading down the drive. She let out a deep sigh that held some emotion, or, probably more likely, lots of emotion, and looked down at Isis at her side.

  “We have chickens to feed, eggs to collect, and rabbits to cool down, Isis. And then maybe we’ll bake some cookies. How does that sound, girl?” She reached down and scratched the dog’s smooth red fur. Isis’s tail wagged slowly from side to side, she wasn’t one to show much emotion. Maybe that’s why Matty felt such a kinship with her.

  ***

  Dash drove to his next call, preoccupied with thoughts of Matty. She’d handled the situation well, probably better than he would have, had a body landed in the back of his truck. But still, when she’d all but pushed him out of Brad’s house, he didn’t miss the look of forced “fineness” on her face. She had told him more than once that she was fine. He knew she wasn’t.

  But he’d driven away anyway. God, he was an ass. He hit the call button on his Bluetooth and dialed Jane because, despite being his annoying know-it-all older sister, she was still the only person who might understand what was going through his head. He sure as shit didn’t.

  “Dash?” she answered.

  “Yeah, it’s me.”

  “And don’t you sound cheery?” she responded. “What happened?”

  And so he told her. Everything. He told her about Chen Zheng, turning Matty down for dinner, the body in the truck, and subsequently being hustled out of Brad’s house.

  “A body? A real, live, dead body fell into her truck?” Jane repeated when he’d finished talking.

  He turned onto one of the many dirt roads that cut through the county. It was a more direct route to where he was going, if not a faster one. If he were honest with himself, which he was trying not to be, he was mostly just buying himself some time before having to be “Dr. Kent” again. “No, a real, dead, dead body,” he responded.

  His sister told him exactly what he could do with himself, then was quiet for a moment. “Wow, that sucks,” she finally said. “Everyone in town is going to hear about it. And right on top of what happened just a few months ago. I’d be surprised if the mayor is re-elected next year,” his sister reflected.

  “Jane.”

  “Right, you don’t care whether the mayor gets re-elected or not. But honestly, Dash, I’m not sure what you want me to say. Given what she does and the fact that she appeals to you, I’m assuming she has a brain in her head. And you’ve turned her down twice, if I’ve heard you correctly. She probably thinks you’re not interested and were just offering to stick around to be nice. And since you can’t even admit to yourself whether you’re interested or not, can you blame her for kicking you out?”

  “It’s not like I wanted to stay and seduce her. I just wanted to stay to make sure she was okay, and she wouldn’t let me do that,” Dash pointed out.

  Jane snorted. “Yeah, sure, whatever, Dash. You want to know what I think?”

  “Probably not.”

  “Of course you do, that’s why you called me. I think you’re being an ass. I think you want to know she wants you as much as you want her because that would be the only thing that would make any sense.”

  “You’re not making sense, Jane.”

 
“Only because you’re being an ass. You can’t explain or understand what’s going on between the two of you and it’s making you feel insecure because you don’t have the answer. And so, when she pushes you out the door telling you she can take care of herself, that she doesn’t need you, your little male ego can’t handle it and you’re kind of freaking out.”

  “I’m hardly freaking out, Jane,” he pointed out as he made a turn onto County Road 7—a very controlled turn onto County Road 7, as if he were making a point.

  “You are.”

  “I’m not.”

  “Then why did you call me?”

  Sometimes Dash hated his sister. “Because I’m not sure what I should do.”

  “And you want to do something because, whether you like it or not, it kind of feels like a biological imperative that you do something, doesn’t it?”

  And strangely enough, that summed it up. He physically felt like he needed to be with Matty, that he needed to make her feel better, make her laugh, make sure she didn’t feel worried or scared after what had happened that morning. It wasn’t just the good manners his mother had taught him, or even common sense. It was something more primal than that. And he didn’t often, if ever, think of himself as a primal kind of guy.

  He grunted.

  “It will get better when you just accept it.”

  “I’m not ready for that.”

  “Clearly,” Jane shot back. “And not to mention the fact that the way you’ve treated her certainly isn’t going to make her acceptance any easier.”

  He had a fleeting image enter his mind, an image of him telling Matty about his family history. She was a city girl, raised in the projects. He didn’t know about her transformation from a girl in the Bronx to a famous author in DC—something he hadn’t mentioned to Jane—but he didn’t doubt it took a lot of courage, confidence, and intelligence.

  Matty would laugh at him if he told her.

  “Dash?”

  “I’m at my next call, I need to go,” he said, bringing his truck to a stop beside the barn of a longtime client.