Hard Silence (9 page)

4, 3, 2, 1.

She stood and walked into the room.

“There he is.”

Evan Gaines was a redhead and his freckles stood in stark relief against his pale face. Deep circles ringed his eyes. No, not circles. Abby’s stomach knotted, even as her hands clenched into fists. Evan’s eyes had been blackened. Burns and scratches mottled his neck and arms. He was skin and bones.

Oh you poor baby. I know what you’ve been through. How you just wanted someone to love you and they hurt you instead. How you tried to be good, how you tried to stay out of the way. My mama locked me in a closet. Did your daddy do that?

Did he make you watch... Focus, Abby.

“Do you want ’im back, ma’am? I didn’t take him, I promise. He just showed up.”

“I know you didn’t take him. He. Wandered. Away.”
Focus.
“And he looks like he’s having fun with you.”

As if to help, the beagle pounced on one of Evan’s legs curled under the sheet, forming a makeshift playpen and leaving room for Abby to sit on the bed.

“I’m Abby,” she said as she handed off a tug toy she’d taken from the kennel.

“I’m Evan.” His pale face erupted in a smile as he got the puppy to grab the other end of the toy. “What’s his name?”

“He doesn’t have one yet. What do you think?”

“Tug.” Evan looked up at her. “Is that okay?”

The eight-year-old had the oldest eyes she had ever seen, and everything about him was dull and lifeless. His fingernails were brittle and broken, and white nicks marred the nail beds. His teeth, what teeth he had, were dirty along the gum line and the edges. Their surfaces were as clean as an eight-year-old could make them. There was a thin scar along his hairline, and another on his eyebrow

“I think it’s a great name.” She held her breath. “Are you hurt, Evan?”

He shook his head. “I got scratched up climbing through my window. And I was hungry, so the nurses ordered pizza. I like pizza.”

The years melted away, and Abby was warm in Faye’s car, speeding away from her lonely, cold house toward a
home
. Someplace where she was safe, clean and fed. She stroked the beagle’s silky ears and joined Evan in playing with the puppy. From the corner of her eye, she saw Jeff standing the doorway. “Evan, this is my friend Jeff. Can he join us?”

The little boy’s eyes widened. “Will you stay here?”

“Of course.” Abby smiled. “I know he looks like a bear, but he’s a nice guy.”

He nodded, and Jeff walked to the bedside chair. “Hi, Evan.”

“Hi.” The little boy’s eyes narrowed. “Are you a cop?”

“Sometimes. And sometimes I’m a teacher.”

Evan looked up, squinted his eyes and wrinkled his nose, as if smelling a lie. “You can be both?”

“Yeah. But it gets confusing. I never know whether to arrest people or grade their papers.”

“You’re friends with Abby?” Evan asked, looking from Jeff to her, seeking confirmation. She remembered that feeling—expecting grown-ups to lie, to trick you into answering questions.

She nodded. “We go fishing together. Do you like to fish?”

The frail shoulders lifted. “My dad takes me, but I have to play on the bank while he tries to catch dinner. He always ends up cussing and throwing things.”

“What’s he throw?” Jeff asked.

“Cans and bottles, mostly.”

“Where’s he throw them?”

“At anything in the way.”

“What’s your mom do while you and your...dad are gone?”

“I don’t know. She used to ask about going with us, but Dad said she was bad luck. She always tells me to be quiet and stay out of the way.”

“What else do you do?” Abby asked.

Evan shrugged again. “Not much. I can’t go anywhere after school, and sometimes Mom keeps me home because,” he looked between her and Jeff. “I’m not supposed to say.”

Her heart broke at those words. “Because she doesn’t want people to see your bruises?”

He nodded. “She said they’d take me away from her, and they can’t do that. We protect each other.”

Jeff’s fingers knotted in the sheets, and Abby covered his hand with hers, but he didn’t relax.

“Is that why you had the hatchet?” she asked. God knew, if she’d been able to get her hands on anything sharp, Wallis would have been nothing but a long-ago memory.

“Yes. I used to keep it under my bed.” Evan talked to her but played with the dog. “But then a few months ago, Dad chased me through the house for pushing him away from Mom, and I had to hide. Mom told me to put my hatchet in my hiding place so I’d have it if he chased me again.” His voice shook. “I shouldn’t have put it where I couldn’t reach it.”

She knew that guilt well. Six people were dead because she’d done something she shouldn’t. No matter how hard she’d tried to be good, it was never good enough. Never.

She lifted his chin and stared into his big brown eyes. “She’s happy you’re safe.”

Just like Buck’s happy that I’m safe and still on his farm where he wanted me to stay.

Tug curled into Evan’s lap with a wide yawn. The boy stroked the animal’s long ears.

“She’s dead, isn’t she?” Evan looked Jeff in the eye. “I kinda figure she is because she’s not in here telling me not to get Dad into trouble.”

“What happened today?” Jeff croaked.

“Dad got the mail and took the check. Mom was mad because we needed food and she said he wouldn’t buy enough. And, when he came home without any grocery sacks, she yelled at him. He got really mad.”

“And you hid under the porch?” Jeff asked.

“Nah. I stayed in my room and waited to see if she’d need me. When it got quiet I opened the door just enough to see what was going on. Dad was standing over Mom, and she was on the kitchen floor. It was all bloody.”

The dog toy fell off the bed. Careful not to disturb the beagle, Evan slid from under the sheets to retrieve it. The movement revealed more of the little boy’s body and the old bruises mottling his skin. Underneath those, his vertebrae and ribs stood out in sharp relief.

For months, I stood in my room staring at bruises just like that, watching them fade while I wrapped my ribs so I could do chores. Faye fed me six times a day, claiming a good wind would blow me away.

Abby bit back her words, choking on a sob as she gripped Jeff’s hand. This time, he held on just as hard.

“Are you tired?” Abby asked as Evan got back into bed and she covered his thin, scratched legs.

“A little. Is Dad getting out of jail?”

“Nope,” Jeff said.

“What happens to me?”

“For right now, you’re going to stay here,” Abby said as she straightened his sheets and pulled his blanket up to his chest. Children should be warm.

“Will you bring Tug to see me again?”

“We’ll come tomorrow,” she promised as she put the puppy in the carrier.

Evan looked at Jeff. “Will you come, too?”

“Sure. Maybe not with Abby and Tug, but I’ll be here.”

They walked out of the room and closed the door.

“Shit,” Jeff whispered. “That poor kid.”

“What if his dad makes bail?”

He took her free hand and coaxed her down the hallway and outside. “I doubt they’ll give it to him, but I’ll work with Glen and Dale on reports to take to the hearing. That asshole will be staring at the sky through a grate in the floor.”

Once they were back in the car, Abby stared out the window. At eight years old, Evan Gaines was braver than she’d been in her whole life. He’d put his dad in jail. Where was Wallis? The searches on her name never revealed anything, but maybe she’d died under an alias. Maybe she was overseas. Maybe she was in jail in Singapore or North Vietnam—or Siberia.

The light came on and her door opened. Jeff offered her his hand. “This is new. You’re usually racing me out of the car.”

“I was thinking,” she muttered, blinking up at him. “Why does me opening my own door bug you?”

He bent and lifted her hand, helping her to her feet. “Because it deprives me of touching you.”

Her knees shook at his words, and she tightened her grip on the pet carrier in her other hand. “You’re teasing me.”

“I never tease about that. You have great hands, strong and soft at the same time.” He matched his stride to hers. “How do you keep them that way?”

“Mineral oil, hoof conditioner and Bag Balm,” she quipped. “Doesn’t every girl you know use those?”

His laughter danced up her skin. “I’ve never checked for Bag Balm. Although,” he tilted his head and waggled his eyebrows, “I can think of a few other uses for it.”

She unlocked the door and turned off the security system. “Trust a guy to think of
that
,” she snorted.

“Hey! I never said what I was thinking,” he chided, his glee echoing through the empty building until the dogs began barking. “Maybe you’re the one with her mind in the gutter.”

She put Tug in his kennel and watched as he curled up in a corner. Jeff stood behind her, his hand on her back. His thumb stroked in an arc, and her whole world narrowed to that spot.

“You’re so warm.”

“No one’s every paid me that particular compliment,” he said as he moved his hand to her stomach and pulled her closer.

“Then they’ve never been cold.” She dropped her head back, resting against his shoulder.

He touched her hairline and she knew he’d found the jagged scar most people missed. No one was generally close enough to see it. Jeff always saw too much.

“I fell.” The age-old lie slipped over her tongue, and it made her feel slimy. He tightened his hold, keeping her close when she tried to wriggle free.

“I could do with a drink and cheesecake. How about you?” he asked.

It felt incredible to be held like this. To be close to him. “I could,” Abby whispered. “Thanks.”

Chapter Seven

When they passed the road home, she lost her nerve. Panic gripped her empty stomach and squeezed, and her fingers twitched with the urge to open the door and jump.

“It’ll kill you, you know?” Jeff said from behind the wheel. “If you bail out at this speed, you’ll be a greasy spot on the asphalt.”

“How did you know?”

“You’re about to break my fingers,” he teased, and then kept hold of her hand when she struggled to pull it free. “Relax, Ab. After all we’ve been through tonight, we’ve earned this.”

Taking a deep breath, she forced her fingers to relax. What did normal girls talk about? Work. He liked his work.

“How is your. Writing?”

He squeezed her fingers and smiled. “Good. I’m ahead of schedule, which is great because—never mind. What you did with Evan tonight, letting the puppy go first, was genius. What gave you that idea?”

Years of having adults bribe me with shit, thinking it would make me talk. As if I’d endanger their lives for a candy bar.
“A grown-up with a puppy is a bribe. Children aren’t stupid. Traumatized children especially.”

“Why
especially
?”

“They’ve spent years. Keeping. Secrets. Sur-surviving.” This was a dangerous conversation. They needed to talk about his work. “Did you always want to be in the FBI?”

He shook his head. “I’d planned to follow Dad into the highway patrol. After he died, I was more convinced than ever, but I saw my mom’s face when I talked about it. The older I got, the more she worried. So I found a way to catch the bad guys without being in the line of fire.” He flicked the blinker and made a left-hand turn. “How about Italian? Every time I drive by here, they’re busy. The food must be good.”

Abby looked out the window at the parking lot beside the repurposed house. She didn’t even need to read the sign. Romanelli’s.

They couldn’t eat here. As Jeff got out of the car, she looked down at her clothes. She was dressed for a casual date. So was he.

“Waiting again,” he teased as he opened the door and offered his hand. “Good for you.” He frowned as she stayed put. “What?”

“They take. Res-reservations.” She forced the words out. “Not. Casual.”

“Well, damn. Every other place is closed by now, and the restaurants in Hastings will be closed by the time we get there.”

“I could cook,” she offered.

He shook his head. “That’s not a treat for you. Shit. What a colossal mess. I’m sorry, Abby.”

They were both exhausted, hungry, and disappointed. And Sera Romanelli made the best dessert in the state. If they had a hope of salvaging this, it was up to her. She took his hand. “We can try.”

I can do this.
She silently chanted the words with every step. Jeff held the door for her and she walked through and straight to a smiling Clio Romanelli at the hostess stand.

“Ciao,
cara mia
!” she said as she wrapped Abby in a tight hug. “We didn’t expect you until Sunday.”

“I’ll still be here then,” Abby rushed the words before the warmth left her. “But any chance. There’s a. Table. Now?”

Jeff stepped forward. “I didn’t know to make a reservation, ma’am. Abby’s had a rough night of it, and I was hoping to treat her.” He offered his hand. “Jeff Crandall.”

“Clio Romanelli. And if you’re taking care of Abby, I’ll find you a table even if it has to be upstairs.”

Once they were alone, Jeff leaned over. “What’s upstairs?”

“Their house.” She smiled at the waiter approaching. “Hello, Giovanni.”

“Ciao,
sorella
.” He beckoned them. “Follow me. Do you want your usual?”

She nodded.

“What’s the usual?” Jeff asked.

“Bruschetta, chestnut pasta, a green salad and iced tea,” Gio explained.

“I’d like that as well, please.”

“Does Sera still have panna cotta?” Abby asked. She was rewarded with Gio’s nod. “Could you set. Aside two?”

“I will.”

Gio left them and walked to the kitchen.

“So you come here a lot?” Jeff asked.

She shook her head. “I did their. Website. And they buy my extra eggs and cream. They treat me like family.”

Gio proved that point by delivering the bruschetta and drinks, plus a plate of mozzarella. “Papa said you needed more cheese.”

They dug in, and Jeff rolled his eyes as he swallowed. “Jesus, that’s good. I’m glad you could get us in.”

“This is the only pull I have, other than getting a discount at the farm supply.”

He choked on his tea, and then settled in for another bite. “How long have you lived here?”

“Twenty-three years.”

“You moved here?”

“Yes,” she said around a mouthful of tomato and feta, “from Tacoma.”

She heard the words leave her mouth, felt the air chill her skin.
It’s okay. Nobody died in Washington. It’s not a secret. It’s on my records at school.

School. Buck had taken her into town and registered her for junior high. Wallis had slammed dishes and drawers for days afterward.

“So you grew up in Washington?” Jeff asked.

This was normal date chatter. She knew he’d grown up in Tennessee. He’d told her. He just wanted—

He can’t know
.

She shook her head. “We. Bounced. Around. A lot.”

“After your father died?”

How did he know her father had died? She hadn’t said anything. She didn’t tell. She didn’t—

He put his hand over hers. “Sorry, professional hazard. You were so kind about my dad, I sort of guessed. I didn’t mean to freak you out.”

See. There. Not my fault. He guessed. And he still didn’t know particulars.

“When did he die?”

“I was four.”

“Damn. How?”

I don’t know. I didn’t see it. All I know was the floor was all red like when I’d spilled Kool-Aid, and I was worried Mama would think I’d made a mess, but Papa was there. He was so still, and Mama was so mad. Her voice made me cry.

“Abby?”

She looked away from him, trying to catch her thoughts and to stop the words. And there, in the corner, with her back to them. There was a lady with chestnut-brown hair, just like hers, cut into the severe style Wallis had always liked. An expensive bag sat at her feet, which were clad in designer shoes, and she reached a manicured hand for her napkin. Diamonds glittered under the lights.

Only the best, Abby. I deserve the best, and I’m going to have it. No one’s going to stop me.

Oh God, oh God, oh God. She should’ve known better than to try this. Wallis always
knew. She blinked across the table. She’d told Jeff a secret. She was here with him, holding his hand, enjoying dinner with her friends. They were all in danger, because she’d been happy.

I’m sorry. I’m sorry.

“Darlin’, what’s wrong?”

She stumbled to her feet. “I have to wash my hands.”

“Ooh-kay.” He smiled up at her. “I’ll be right here. Hurry back before I eat all the mozzarella.”

I’m so sorry.

Careful not to cause a scene, she slipped down the hall to the ladies’ room, dodging Gio as he came out of the kitchen.

“Pasta’s on,
sorella
. Hurry before it gets cold.”

I’m so sorry.

Clio came out behind her son, and her bright smile vanished. “What is it,
mia figlia
? Are you ill?”

The woman’s kindness brought tears to Abby’s eyes. Wallis couldn’t hurt these people. Not because of her.

“Is he mean to you? Should I call Chief Roberts?”

“No.”
No one else needs to be involved.
“He’s fine, Clio. I’m just...just...”

Clio pulled her into the kitchen. “I’ll go get Jeff.”

“No.”
Wallis will see. He’ll be hurt. So you will you...all of you.
“I need to leave.”

The woman never blinked. “Marco, take Abby home now. Leave through the back.”

“Yes, Mama.”

Abby snatched cash from her wallet and stopped for one moment. Grabbing a pen, she scrawled a note on an order pad and shoved it at Clio. “Give this to him in five minutes.”

Then she ran for the door.

All the way home, she watched the rearview mirror. If Wallis caught up with them, she’d jump out of the tow truck. She might be a greasy spot, but Marco would be safe.

Greasy spot
. Jeff’s words, the memory of his laughter, brought tears to her eyes.
Stupid, Abby. How could you be so stupid?

He’d be sitting at their table, watching his food get cold, waiting on her to come back. He’d wanted to do something nice for her, and she’d ruined it. He’d hate her, but he’d stay away now.

“Abby?” Marco whispered. “You’re home.”

She blinked out the windshield, expecting to see carnage and mayhem. Everything was how she’d left it.

“Do you need me to wait,
sorella
?”

Sister.
She’d always wanted siblings, and now she had a whole Italian family. “No, Marco. I’m fine. Thanks.” She opened the door and leapt from the truck. “Go home.”

He waited until she put the key in the lock and opened the door, and then he backed away. Abby went inside and changed the security system from
Away
to
Perimeter
and shoved the deadbolts home. When she slid the grate over the dog door, Toby sat next to her and whined.

“Sorry, boy. You can’t go out until tomorrow. I don’t want her to get you.”

Keeping the lights off, she grabbed a knife from the block on the counter, curled into a corner, and waited. Sure enough, twenty minutes later, lights seesawed through the trees as a car bounced up the driveway.

As the security lights blared to life, she closed her eyes and tightened her grip on her weapon. And dropped it when the pounding knock thundered through the house.

“Abby!”

No! He wasn’t supposed to be here. He should be mad at her. Why didn’t he just go home?

He banged on the door, hard enough she would’ve sworn the wood cracked. “I know you’re in there..”

The screen door slammed shut, and she sagged with relief. But Jeff prowled the porch, his footsteps thudding and his shadow looming in the window. He was like the big bad wolf, looking for a way in, not knowing something much worse than him was waiting inside.

“Goddammit!” He battered the door again. Toby flattened against her legs, bristling and growling.

“Go away,” she said, wishing her voice didn’t quiver.

“What?”

“Go away.” She could do this. She’d practiced being mean for almost twenty years. She pushed the air from her diaphragm. “Leave me alone.”

“What the hell happened?” He’d stopped trying to get in, but she could see his silhouette. He had braced both hands against the door.

“It was a bad idea.” Her voice cracked.

“Dammit! Things were fine. What happened?”

My mother...my mother...my mother...

Abby stared at the trees, looking for more headlights. None were coming. Yet. He had to get out of here.

“Leave!”

“No. Not until I see you.”

She struggled to her feet, tripping over Toby as he wrapped himself around her shins. Wiping the back of her hand across her cheek, Abby flinched as the knife scraped her chin. She tested the spot with her fingers, grateful they came away clean. He’d never believe she was fine if she was bleeding. She pulled the curtain aside and blinked against the glare.

“Baby,” he groaned. “Please let me help you.”

He couldn’t help her. It was dangerous. She had to be mean.

“Stop. Pushing. Me,” she shouted, forcing her eyes to narrow, making her brow furrow. “Go. Away.” She lifted one corner of her lip into a snarl. “Leave. Me. Alone.”

He shook his head.

“I. Don’t.”
Want you.
“I. Don’t.”
Need you.
She tried to say the words, to keep her mask in place, but she couldn’t.

“Please, Jeff. I’m sorry. I can’t.” A tear rolled down her cheek, but she didn’t dare wipe it away. He’d see the knife in her hand. “Please leave me alone.”

He backed away from the door, then walked down the steps. Then to his car.

Abby watched him go. Watched the night descend. Saw the lights crest the top of the hill.

She was alone. Just like she’d wanted to be.

Sliding down the door, she put her head on her knees and wept.