by Beth Rhodes
“I’m over at the Hawkins’.” He should offer to go home, but part of him resisted. It had always been that way, though. Wanting the liberation, caring too much to break completely free.
“Will you stop by on the way back to your apartment?”
“Sure.” He smiled, remembering even though she needed him, she understood his independence as well. “Is Mom home?”
“No. She called and is working late.”
Again. He was going to have to talk to her. He hated talking to her. It felt wrong. And maybe he should let it go. She’d chosen her path. Unfortunately, her path affected Andrea. And he wouldn’t desert Andrea. “Okay. I’ll see you in a little bit then—forty-five minutes.”
“Forty-five,” she confirmed her understanding. “Thanks, Tan.”
“No problem, An. Love you.”
She hung up without a word.
“I’ll make you a plate,” Stacy said before he could even say a word. “And next time, you stop and get her before you come here, Tan,” she admonished with a frown.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“She’s alone too much over there at the house. After school until all hours of the night.”
Guilt settled against his spine. “She’s well-adjusted. Sometimes I forget she needs a little extra attention. And she’s doing well in school this year, too.”
“We’re her family, too.” Hawk spoke, taking a pull from his beer. “Do as Stacy says…that’s what I do.”
Tan grinned. “Thanks, guys.”
Having dinner with his second family was enough to remind him, he’d almost lost them.
And that was enough to throw his determination into making sure Liz was protected.
He wasn’t going to let anything happen to her.
~ 10 ~
“Don’t you have to go to your mom’s today?” After meeting her dad and Maggie at church, Liz had worked the rest of the morning away. She wasn’t exactly bored, but she needed a break. Otherwise her brain would start miscounting sequins…and that was not something she could afford right now. She pulled a drawer on the old library catalog cabinet her dad had procured from a client in his furniture business. The old wood was soft to the touch and the drawers had years of wear on them so they slid soundlessly with each push or pull. Of course, they were filled with the largest and most wonderful collection of glitter and beads a girl could imagine.
Turning back to her work table, she glanced up at Tan, who was standing in the doorway, watching her.
“You really need to stop standing around, watching me. It’s creeping me out.”
“Sorry.” But he didn’t seem sorry, either.
She sighed. “So?”
“What?”
“Your mom’s. Dinner?”
“Oh.” A look of guilt came over his face. “I cancelled.”
“You cancelled?”
He shrugged. “Long story—”
“And none of my business?”
“Maybe.”
The one word answers and responses had started yesterday, as if something had happened. But he’d left, without even saying goodbye, and when he’d returned, this had been their state.
She ground her teeth a little. “You’re kind of a loner, aren’t you?”
“Aren’t you?”
“You can’t answer a question with a question. And no redirecting. Besides, I’m not a loner. I’m constantly surrounded by family.”
His brow rose a hair, as if he didn’t believe her. And he made her think of the attack on Friday night. “Okay, maybe not constantly. But a damn lot,” she said, stabbing the air with her finger.
“Dinner is a tough affair at my house,” he admitted. “My sister is the main reason for staying close. And she and I have plans this week already, so... Long story, I guess. But, my sister has Autism. She’s had some ups and downs, and she does really well now, but I like to check in on her.”
Liz held her breath.
“She’s so smart, and…innocent, you know? Not a mean bone in her body. I think I never would have left if it hadn’t been for everything else.” He smiled, as if thinking about his sister. Tenderness. He had a soft side, a real puffy center inside. “But I did, joining the military. There had been someone to watch out for her. But then—” He stopped short, focused in on Liz, his eyes going wide as if shocked by his own candor. “Anyway, when my brother died…”
She waited for him to finish, sewing one sequin and then another. “What about your mother?” Liz kept her eyes on her work, not wanting to scare this sharing mc-sharey-pants side of him.
He laughed, but not in good humor. “She’s had a rough time. And let’s face it, she never won any mother-of-the-year awards, but she’s okay.”
She hummed in response. The picture he painted was fairly bleak, and her heart went out to him even as she inwardly scowled at being so sentimental.
His steps took him toward the front of the work room and to the doorway into the storefront where he gazed out to the street. “Wow, let’s have a pity party, shall we?”
Tan turned back to her, and shrugging his shoulders, gave her a lopsided grin as if to blow off the serious. “I need to be here, but that doesn’t mean I always like it.”
Liz appreciated his honesty.
“Short exercises and assignments out of the country keep me from getting bored.”
“Do you like what you’re doing then? Compared to the tromping through the jungle version of Hawk Elite.”
The surprise in his eyes had her laughing.
“I’m taking a wild guess based on movie-watching and fantasy-fulfillment.” Heat rose on her neck. She secured the final sequin and then stabbed her needle into the pin cushion. Lifting the material, she shook it out and watched the rainbow of colors glimmer.
And she turned it for him to see as excitement thrilled through her. “What do you think?”
“I think I’ve never seen anything so labor intensive. Aren’t there fabric companies to do that in mass production?”
“God, no.” She clutched her work to her chest. “Blasphemer. Everything I do is hand-stitched. And made with the client in mind. You won’t ever find a duplicate of what I make.”
“I believe it.” He stared at her.
And for the first time since meeting him, she got the feeling maybe he didn’t dislike her so much. She might even go so far as to consider…he might admire her.
***
She bent her legs and lifted the weight to her shoulders.
“Stupid,” she whispered to herself, thinking of the wheelbarrow out back in the shed at home. Should have thought about how hard this was going to be.
But life was hard. She could do this. She’d done harder things, hadn’t she? “You sure have.”
Ten more steps and she reached the edge of the wooded park.
This would be better. Less messy. Mom never liked messes. She’d scream about the crayons or the makeup. Once when the milk spilled—lordy. She’d been grounded to her room for a whole week. And she’d gone to bed without dinner as well.
The girl tumbled off her shoulder a few feet short of the spot.
Looking around, she shrugged. This would have to do. And the dark would hide her.
She sighed. This part made her sad.
Even though the first time had been an accident—and messy. She’d been angry then. Anger wasn’t worth it, though. She’d cleaned up and made a promise.
From now on, there would be no suffering.
If they suffered, she was no better than they were when they targeted her boys and tortured them. She wasn’t like that.
She was a good girl.
A moan stopped her, reminded her the job here wasn’t done yet, and she carefully took the syringe from her pocket. She’d be able to dose and leave her.
She’d had to think ahead on this one. But she had a friend who used insulin and they talked about it. Since the girl was already unconscious, her death would be painless.
Important because she
wasn’t a monster.
Justice had to be served.
With the syringe fisted in her hand, she stabbed the girl’s leg and pushed down the thing. She nodded, letting the funny feeling of excitement rush through her and then quickly fade. “There. Now you will never be able to wrongly accuse anyone again.”
The little bustle of lilacs in her pocket were completely smashed, but she laid them on the ground next to the whore.
Mom never liked that word.
But sometimes… words were necessary.
~ 11 ~
On Monday morning, Tan made it to the police department in time to catch Jenkins on his way out the door. The man waved him over with a gloved hand.
Tan rubbed his hands together and breathed into them, then he shoved them under his arms to warm up. “How’s it going? Anything new?”
“You knew we were going to come up empty.”
“Only suspected it.”
“Kid took a hundred dollars to do the job. Gave a vague description of the contact.” Jenkins shrugged. “Medium height. Brown hair. Brown eyes. Brown fucking suit.”
Okay. Tan let that settle in. “Can I talk to him?”
Jenkins eyed him. “He’s not going to have anything for you. He gets paid, and he goes down for it—mostly because he’s a dumb ass. But he won’t have the connection to whomever has Ms. Whitney in her crosshairs.”
When a wind blew across the front of the building, Tan tightened the hold on his jacket and shook off the shiver that raced through him. “That’s it? Better luck next time?”
“No,” Jenkins drawled. “The case is still open. I talked to Liz—”
“This morning?” The weird jealous reaction came out of nowhere. She hadn’t said anything to him before he left. And he was in charge of her life for the time-being—where she went, how she got there, and who she talked with.
“Just got off the phone with her, actually. Asked her to make a list of anyone she’s had an argument with in the last year or so. We can start there as soon as I get it.”
Tan nodded and rubbed a hand at the back of his neck. “Thanks.”
“Just doing my job.” Jenkins walked off to the black sedan parked in front of the building.
Tan hesitated on the threshold of the station.
Jenkins was right. And Tan hadn’t been hired to investigate but to pull guard duty. Showing up here was outside his list of duties. But, he hated not knowing what he was up against.
He checked his watch at the same time as his phone hummed against his leg.
“I’m on my way,” he said, answering his sister’s call. “I’ll be there in ten minutes.”
Every year. Meeting at his brother’s grave. The anniversary of a death was not his idea of a celebration, and Tan had grown tired of the ritual. The flowers. The ribbons on his grave. The tedium of his sister’s obsession with remembering their brother’s death.
Tan wanted to have a beer on his brother’s birthday.
He wanted to pull out the old photo album and remember the good times.
Eight years was a long time to hold hatred close.
Last year, he’d been out of the country. And he had, thankfully, forgotten the date.
It was fitting when the clouds covered the sun as he pulled into the cemetery parking lot. He’d picked this cemetery for its location along the bus line. Andrea didn’t drive, and he’d wanted her to be able to visit. He hadn’t thought ahead to how deeply her pain would go.
There were times now when he wished the cemetery was far on the other side of town, out of reach, out of sight, out of mind. He hurried along the path until he saw Andrea, sitting in the grass next to the small, gray headstone.
Her long dark hair curled around her ears, catching the breeze. Her pretty cappuccino-toned skin was flushed from the cold, but the smile on her face put his conscience at ease. Then she lifted a hand to wave, and he sat next to her.
“Hey, sis.”
“You said ten minutes.”
Tan sat cross-legged on the ground next to her and checked his watch. “Fourteen is pretty close to ten. There was some traffic at the boulevard.”
“Yeah.” His sister picked at the grass in front of her.
He let the silence wash over him.
“Mom wouldn’t come.”
“It’s hard for her. Makes her sad.” Tan held out a hand to her, and when she took it, he wrapped his warm fingers around her cold ones. “You know that.”
“I wish it never happened.”
Tan rolled his eyes to heaven. Every year. The same dialogue. “Me too.”
“Where is the girl now?”
Accused of assaulting a young woman, Thomas had been arrested. And then half way through the trial, she’d cried rape and the media had gotten wind. And she’d brought him down. The lawyers had polished their case, the victim had practiced her lines…
And his brother had gone to jail. But Tommy had been wrong, too. Wrong crowds, wrong decisions. Too much drinking and even some drugs. And Tan had been gone for so much of it—first in the military then working for Hawk Elite Security. He’d missed it, missed the signs.
“I stopped looking, Andrea.” The cold of the ground bit into Tan’s rear. “She could be anywhere. She’s gone.”
Andrea stayed silent, which was unusual for this part of the familiar conversation. She brushed her hair behind her shoulder and tapped at her knee, and he recognized the sign of nerves. “She’s in Denver.”
“What?” She knew? How did she know? Why did she know?
“Yeah, I looked it up at the library. Denver’s in Colorado.”
Tan squeezed his sister’s slim, delicate hand and then let go. He clasped his hands over his knees. “You can’t look for her. You need to let it go.”
Andrea stiffened and pulled away from him. “She’s a bitch. She killed Tommy. Now he’s gone. We can never see him again.”
Standing, the cold really sinking in now, Tan walked away a few paces. He could hear his mother in those words. Hell, he could hear his own voice eight years ago. He hadn’t realized things had gotten worse at home. He’d been under the impression his mother was getting better and moving on.
He walked back and crouched in front of his beautiful sister, who would never quite reason like the rest of the world. “Andrea. Look at me.”
Her frown gave him pause, made him calm the storm of agitation and temper. God, she was so pretty, favoring the looks of his mother. “Patty did not kill Thomas.”
“She—”
“Listen.” He held her chin in his hand. “That woman did a mean thing. But she didn’t kill Tommy. Tommy made some bad choices. What does Dr. Ramos say? Huh?”
She shrugged. “Forgiveness is freedom.”
“That’s right.” Even if it was a load of bullshit. If it helped his sister put aside this obsession, this unhealthy, never-ending cycle of reliving the past. The kernel of anger hardened. “It’s time to be free.”
Tan helped her to stand. “Hey, next year, let’s go over to Beasley’s. Remember how Thomas wanted to go there every year on his birthday?”
“They have good tea.” Andrea pulled him along, the conversation about Thomas tucked in her mind for another day. “Don’t you like their tea?”
“Yeah, I do.” Tan held his sister’s hand as they trailed the path toward the cemetery entrance.
He shouldn’t be complaining about a short ten minutes out of his year. But the residual feelings of resentment and anger, even bitterness, resurrected every year had to stop. For Andrea. For himself.
He’d seen Liz this past week. She’d moved forward afterwards, taken her life by the balls. She hadn’t let the attack stop her. She shamed him with her fortitude.
Being dragged about by circumstances was no longer an option.
Time to take his life into his own hands.
***
“You have no idea what it means to have you here, Janice. I feel like a huge weight has been lifted off my shoulders.”
> Janice waved her words off with a shrug.
“I’m serious,” Liz said then paused. “Besides, it’s nice having someone else in the shop. After what happened last week—”
“That was crazy. Did they catch the guy?”
Liz sighed as she worked the black ribbon on the bustle. “They did…but they don’t think he’s the one responsible.” A laugh of disbelief escaped. “Can you believe they want me to give them a list of people who have a grudge?”
Janice snorted. Her fingers flipped through a few more pages of Liz’s haphazard effort at bookkeeping. “Holding grudges and making enemies was a way of life for us for years. Geez. If I had to make a list. It would not be pretty.”
“There was a lot of competition, wasn’t there?” But she didn’t remember the rivalry with the same conviction. “In the end, I think most of us knew it was only the game. It was never real. Not like…knock on someone’s door and kick ‘em while they’re down real.”
“Maybe you’re right.”
“I hope I am.” Liz blew out a breath and her hair moved against her face. She tucked the longer strands back behind her ear where they’d fallen from. “Too much energy put into that career to come out of it bitter. I’m glad it’s over, but I enjoyed it and the comraderies…despite the few grievances that came with competition.”
Janice smiled. “You always were so easy to get along with, and everyone liked you. I think your list will be shorter than you expect.”
Her phone buzzed loudly on the table behind her and then Janice’s went off too. “What the—” Liz laughed, picking up her phone. “I forget about that amber alert notification. When it goes off…” she shivered. “So scary to think that some little kid, right now, is missing.”
“I know. It’s awful. Makes you wonder, doesn’t it?” Janice closed the binder. “Everything looks good here, Liz. I have some suggestions for how to filter the money through the budget. Get it a little more streamlined.” She stood and placed her hands firmly on the table, and after a pause, spoke, “What do you think about those women?”
What did she think? What was she supposed to think? She’d promised herself she wouldn’t track the news, but it was impossible. You couldn’t open a newspaper, turn on the television, or scroll Facebook without seeing something. “It’s awful. And I heard another woman went missing this weekend, that the neighbor found her baby sleeping in the car in the driveway. God! Snatched right out from under everyone’s noses.” A shiver ran up Liz’s spine. “Horrible.”