The Devil Made Me

by Lorena May

  We sat there for a while just watching the band. But, of course, my mind was elsewhere. Then, Em’s face turned white, and her big green eyes flared. She spotted Dad’s old partner, Jed, in the bar. Here! In Rockydale. What in the hell was Jed doing in this town? We didn’t dare stare openly. Hopefully, he’s forgotten all about us. Sure enough, though, when I turned to look he was there, big as life. With his poor down-trodden little wife, Rose.

  I always liked Rose – or felt sorry for her, at least. A mousy, meek little woman who ended up with an ass-hole that ruled her life. Did she love him? Or was she just afraid to leave? I suppose she was addicted to booze and maybe drugs . . . I wanted to go over and hug her that night. Let her know that she was a person worthy of affection. But Em was right. We didn’t want to be in Jed’s radar.

  Finally, the text I’d been waiting for – sitting on the edge of my seat for, so to speak – came. ‘I’m here. Meet me at the back exit.’

  I probably left a little abruptly. Poor Em. I wish, now, that I’d hugged her or told her I loved her or something. Because I did. I do. I just told her I’d be back soon. A lie.

  I didn’t see him at first. But as I entered the hallway leading to the restrooms I spied him standing by the exit. He looked out of place there, and hugely uncomfortable. But, oh my God, he looked good. My heart did a little jump when I saw him. I couldn’t believe my good fortune in having found him.

  Maybe it wasn’t my fault, but I’d always felt like a low-life. After my mom died our house was the one respectable people avoided; turned their noses up at. We were raggedy and dirty kids. Our dad was often drunk or high. Our house was chaotic and messy. I was ashamed. I carry that still.

  Then I met him; that beautiful God-fearing man. Good in every way. And he wanted me. I was uplifted. We would be a decent, upright couple. He made me whole again.

  He immediately opened the door as I approached him in the hallway of the pub, as if he didn’t want anyone to see us together. ‘Who cares?’ I thought. ‘Soon we’ll be living together.’ But he was always funny that way.

  “What is it?” he asked me once we were outside. He didn’t look happy to see me at all.

  I shivered. I had no jacket, and my dress was skimpy. To think I fretted over what to wear knowing I’d see him. And he looks at me like that!

  Then he walked away, toward the trees behind the pub. I followed. “I have something important to tell you,” I said. “Something I hope you’ll be happy about.”

  He stopped, and turned to look at me. I blurted it out. “I’m pregnant.”

  He jolted. It was as if I’d shot him. “You’re WHAT?” he said, after just standing there staring at me for a long time. Then he took off, marching speedily into the woods. I followed as closely as I could in my skimpy, high-heeled shoes, my feet numb from the cold, twisting and bashing against roots along the pathway.

  Finally, he stopped on the edge of the forest. He just stood there, looking down on the river, black and rippling, a low, full moon making a golden path across it. I watched his beautiful, soft hair puffing up in the breeze. His big, strong back in his hockey jacket, legs apart. Just standing there. Staring down.

  Rubbing my arms, shaking with cold and dread, I hobbled up to look up into his face. His eyes held a far-away look. I reached up to touch his cheek. “It will be okay,” I murmured. “You’ll see.”

  He looked down at me, his face twisted in a sneer. “Even that you screw up. Can’t you do anything right? Ever heard of birth control?”

  I took the blow, but I felt winded. Completely limp.

  “I’ll make arrangements to get rid of it,” he said, clamping his jaw.

  It? He makes it sound like some kind of horrible thing.

  “I want to keep it,” I told him, looking into his eyes. Begging.

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” he scoffed, crossing his arms across his chest.

  Does he have any idea what I’ve done for him? The lines I’ve crossed just so that we could be together? Dealing drugs has never been my thing. I did it for him. How many times did he say that the reason we couldn’t marry or live together was because he had no money to move out of his parent’s place? That as long as he lived with them we had to keep our love secret? I splurged on his engagement ring, I know. But otherwise I’ve been practical. Scrimping. Saving. Planning.

  “I want us to be a family.” I heard my own voice, squeaky-sounding. Pleading.

  He snorted. His eyes were cold. I felt the heat of fury beginning at the tips of my frozen toes, rising up through my body.

  “I love you. You said you loved me. I am not giving up this baby.”

  He walked away, hands in his pockets, tramping along the edge of the embankment. I followed him, stomping through the snow, oblivious, now, to the cold. “You cannot just walk away from me. I may have agreed to keep our relationship secret before. But I do not deserve this.”

  He glanced over his shoulder to look scornfully at me, heightening my rage. “Go to hell, Scarlett. You know what you are.”

  I lost it. I lashed out, hitting at him with a clenched fist and the cell-phone I held in my hand, pounding his chest, screaming through tears. “I’m a person. A person with feelings. A person with worth. A mother.”

  And then. I only remember feeling his big, solid hands on my chest. Pushing. My upper body hurled away from him; flying over the edge of the cliff. No control. A whoosh of tumbled rocks. Loud CRACK. Sharp pain in my head. Ice-cold – shatteringly freezing water all around me. That’s all.

  Chapter 26

  ~Em~

  When she and Sheba arrive home early Monday morning Em takes a deep breath and reaches into the mailbox, her heart in her mouth. It’s empty. She stands on the porch looking around. An ominous kind of stillness hangs over the yard. There are the odd paths of deer prints, and skittering foot-prints of squirrels. Bird-seed lies scattered around the feeders, and there’s Sheba’s padded-down area in the snow. The drive-way is slick and shiny. No new human prints that she can make out, but someone has been here. Obviously. The door knob is cold and stiff. Did he touch it? Did he enter? It’s still locked, and she fiddles with the key. The house is cold and dark. Em keeps her jacket on, sliding her boots off in the porch. Sheba trots in beside her. No growling, no raised hair on her back. It must be okay.

  Em climbs the stairs to her room, and changes for work. Her bed is still made, books piled neatly on her dresser. A photograph in a silver frame of her parents, Scarlett and herself, sits atop her bureau. Happier times. Nothing has been touched that she can see. Still, what was a happy home has been spoilt. On her way out she glances into Abi’s and Scarlett’s bedrooms. At a glimpse, at least, they look the same.

  “I’ll see you right after work, Sheba. Some people will be here today to fix the window. Be a good girl.” And she hugs her dog as she leaves.

  AT NOON HER TRUCK SWERVES into the Hogshead parking lot, and her heart beats a little faster at the prospect of seeing its bartender. He is extra jaunty as he rushes to open the door for her. “Jamila! A nice surprise. Can I buy you lunch?”

  They eat hamburgers and fries. “I was too busy this morning to make my lunch,” he smirks. “Nice busy.” Em can feel her face flush, and she can’t stop grinning.

  “I talked to my mother just before you came in,” he says, looking at her intensely through his sunny, grey eyes. “She has asked if you would join us for Christmas dinner next week.”

  She blanches. “Your mother asked me?”

  He takes her hands in his across the table. “It was her idea, Jamila. I promise. She’ll be good. And I’ll protect you.” He grins.

  CHRISTMAS DELIVERIES make for a busy afternoon, and Em arrives home late. Sheba runs outside as soon as she opens it, eager for relief. The kitchen window is glass again and, though the sun is setting, the house feels cheerier. A soft beam of sunlight glows across the parquet floor. Em is pulling a plastic container of stew from the freezer when her phone buzzes.

  It’s Abi
. “Em, Matthew thinks I should stay here a while longer just until we’re sure the threat is gone, okay? But we need to come by and pick up some more of my clothes and stuff. Will you be around?”

  “Sure.”

  When they pull up in Matthew’s green mini SUV Abi rushes into the house to hug her sister. “Oh, Em, I’ve missed you! I should have been here for you.”

  Em hugs her back. “I need you safe, Abi.”

  Matthew stands in the doorway smiling at the two girls, his eyes lustrous with love. “We all want what’s best for you, Abi.” He sits at the table, boyish and fresh-faced.

  “Want some stew?” Em asks, retrieving her dinner from the microwave.

  “No, we’ve eaten.” Abi says. I’ll just make some hot chocolate and we’ll watch you eat!” She scurries around the kitchen, gathering a pot, chocolate mix and milk. How graceful and delicate she looks. She wears jeans and a soft, blue sweater that accents her wide, innocent eyes. Em’s heart is filled with love for her little sister. But what is that?

  Em reaches to touch her sister’s shoulder. “That locket you’re wearing, Abi. Was that Scarlett’s?”

  Abi plucks the pendant in her dainty fingers and opens it. “No. See? It’s got pictures of Matthew and me. He gave it to me as a kind of engagement present.” Her face flushes, and her eyes sparkle as she looks at her sister.

  Em takes a sharp breath, and turns to Matthew. “Where did you get it, Matthew?”

  He cocks his head. “At the pawn shop. I knew as soon as I saw it that it was perfect for Abi.” He grins a cheery grin.

  Em’s head is reeling. “I’m sure that’s the pendant Scarlett had that was once our mother’s.”

  Abi’s brow furrows. “I know it looks similar, Em, but . . .”

  Em grabs her phone from the table and scrolls through to the selfie Scarlett took in the Hogshead. She enlarges it. “Look, Abi. It’s the same. Same pattern on the front, a little tarnished in the same spots.”

  Abi’s mouth drops open as she looks at Em’s phone.

  Matthew sits silent a moment, his jaw tight. “I swear I got it at the pawn shop.”

  Em’s heart is racing. “Do you see what this means? Whoever killed Scarlett probably took it to the pawn shop. We need to take this to the police. Abi, leave it with me.”

  Matthew stands. “Let me do it for you. First thing tomorrow.”

  Em is unwavering. “No, Abi. Give it to me. Sergeant Greer wants to come here tomorrow to look at Scarlett’s room. It’s my day off, and I can give it to her then.” Finally, a clue.

  EM LAYS BACK IN THE soaker tub, basking in the flowery smell, the softness of Scarlett’s bath oil on her skin. She closes her eyes, letting herself meld into the warmth and comfort of a hot bath. How can one be so happy and so sad at the same time?

  Sheba is barking downstairs, probably at a squirrel she sees through the window. Luckily, the sound is muted through the closed door. The barking stops. Luka’s face, Scarlett’s, Abi’s . . . drift through her mind. The terror of the rock thrown into the kitchen. Threats. Jed and Rose. Images from the past. A dead body with blood staining the snow. Luka’s smile. His touch. His mother . . .

  The water is getting cold, and it’s time for bed. There’s a knock on the bathroom door. Em’s insides lurch. “Hello?”

  “Em? Are you in there?” It’s Matthew

  She throws on her robe, tightening the belt. “Yes, just getting out of the tub.”

  “I’ll make some hot chocolate,” he says through the door. “I’d like to talk to you about Abi.”

  “Is she okay?”

  “Yes, yes. Nothing bad.” She hears his foot-steps tromping down the stairs. Why didn’t she hear them coming up?

  Em’s not sure she wants to listen to what he has to say. She dries her hair with a towel, shuffles her feet into slippers, taking her time. Walking slowly to her room, she combs her hair, pulls on jeans and a shirt, shoves her phone in her pocket and ambles downstairs, listening to Matthew rattle around in the kitchen. When she enters, Matthew is stirring hot chocolate in the pot Abi used earlier. He pours two cups, setting them on the table.

  Hot chocolate will be good. Maybe help me sleep. “You wanted to talk about Abi?”

  He smiles, a sheepish grin. “Yes. I want to marry her.”

  Em gawps a moment. “She’s pretty young.”

  His face becomes serious. “I’ll take good care of her, Em.”

  She just stares.

  “Would you let me have that locket to give to her?”

  Em feels a rigid stubbornness overtake her. “No, Matthew. It could be a clue. The first one we’ve gotten. Somebody murdered Scarlett. I’m sure of it.”

  His voice takes on a whiney tone. “It can’t be the same locket. Who would be stupid enough to take it to a pawn shop?”

  “I don’t know, but I want the police to look into it.” Her voice is firm.

  He nods in acceptance, his face passive. “Okay. Tell me about Abi as a little girl,” Matthew tilts his head, smiling and sitting back, eager to hear about the woman he loves.

  Em’s becoming sleepy. Completely relaxed. She thinks back, shuddering. She wants to forget the birth. But Abi as a little girl . . . Their little dolly. Adored by both herself and Scarlett . . . Her brain is becoming fuzzy. She can’t sit up. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong. I need to go to bed.”

  “Where is the locket, Em?” Now his voice is hard and cold.

  A little jolt of adrenalin perks her brain, but it’s too late. She staggers from her chair, across the floor to slump down and lie beside the stove. She can’t move or speak, but is vaguely aware of him sitting there.

  He watches her a moment. Then, “Em, I didn’t want to have to do this.” He’s picking her up and carrying her outside, kicking open the door, letting it slam in Sheba’s face. Cold air hits her, but she can’t move. He carries her like a baby, setting her on the icy ground while he opens the door to his SUV. Then he picks her up and throws her in the back seat. The cloth seat is cold and stiff. She can’t move.

  “Why couldn’t you just let well enough alone?” he murmurs as he starts the car and drives toward the road. “I didn’t want to kill Scarlett either. But she just wouldn’t stop. She hounded me. What’s wrong with you two?”

  His words come at her as if through a tunnel. He killed Scarlett? She wants to ask, but her mouth doesn’t work.

  He mutters wildly as they drive along the gravel road. The seat vibrates and bumps beneath her body.

  “She had to know it was just a fling. A girl like her? I couldn’t. My life would be ruined.”

  He’s going to kill me now too?

  Chapter 27

  ~Darby~

  Hands on hips, Darby stands staring at the white-board. “Mel, something’s not making sense here.”

  Mel leans on the desk, making a steeple with his fingers. “You don’t think Jed murdered Scarlett.”

  “No, I don’t. Rose said they went home after being in the pub and that he stayed home with her that night. It’s a pretty long drive back. I don’t think he’d have had time to take Rose home, come back and somehow lure Scarlett away.” She chews her lip. “And Em says Scarlett was happy – left her saying she’d be right back. Surely if she was seeing Jed she’d have said so.”

  “Mm hmmm”

  “I think Scarlett may have been involved in selling drugs from Hunter’s, and sure, she could be murdered for stealing from people like that. But if they’ve killed her why, would they come looking for her?”

  Mel thinks a moment. “Well, they’d still want their money.”

  “Yeah, but wouldn’t they have a better chance of getting it if they kept Scarlett alive? If they wanted to threaten her sisters they’d be ahead threatening her, don’t you think?”

  “True.”

  “Em was hiding something from me when I saw her in the Hogshead Saturday,” Darby muses. “She and Matthew. He texted, and I happened to be holding the phone. Saw his text. Em sai
d they were planning a birthday party for Abi, but Abi was born January 5th. It’s only the middle of December.”. She runs her fingers through her hair. “There was something about that text.”

  Mel watches her pace, brow furrowed, hands in her pockets. Her face registers an ‘aha’ moment. “It was like the texts Em got from Scarlett’s phone!” She almost shouts.

  “You mean after Scarlett disappeared?”

  “Yes! Full sentences. Perfect punctuation. Not at all like most texts!”

  “What are you saying, Darby?”

  She’s almost vibrating, her face animated. “Matthew and whoever was pretending to be Scarlett both text the same way!”

  Now Mel’s forehead furrows. “You’re thinking Matthew?”

  Her eyes are burning. “Think back to when we first told Abi about her sister’s death. I remember twigging onto something and then letting it go. He said something about the scar-face guy throwing Abi in the river. It was weird. We hadn’t said anything about finding Scarlett by the river at that time.”

  “I remember that. Seemed like a bit of a coincidence that he’d think of it.”

  “But why would Matthew want to kill Scarlett? As far as we know he’d had nothing to do with her.”

  “But some young fella did, obviously,” Mel says. “She was pregnant, after all.”

  Darby grits her teeth, running her hands over her cheeks. “Yeah. Let’s talk to Matthew Goodall.”