Indivisible (10 page)

“On the couch. Sleeping. He was supposed to be napping too.”

“How did he get outside?”

“Gets hot in there. I opened the balcony door. He was supposed to be sleeping.” He wrung his hands together, exhibiting remorse, until he muttered, “It’s not my fault.”

Jonah leaned in. “You’re blaming the kid?”

“Back off.”

Jonah grabbed his shirt collar. “You’re supposed to be his protector, not a liability.”

“Get off me.” He jerked away.

“Jonah.” Sue gripped his arm.

A tech wheeled Eli out of the radiation room. Sue rushed over, Sam plodding behind, indignant and self-righteous. Jonah turned on his heel. A toddler alone on a balcony? Negligence at best. The severity of the injury would determine a lot. He hoped for Sue’s sake, and Sam’s, that this would be a wake-up call and nothing more.

He climbed into the Bronco, annoyed that he’d vented his frustration on Sam, deserving though he was. Getting physical on the job was his dad’s forte. Jonah drove to the animal hospital and went inside. After ringing the bell, he stood for a long time without acknowledgment. Finally Liz came out with a miniature Pomeranian in her arms. She handed the dog to a petite woman who looked just like it.

Jonah didn’t know her name, but he’d seen her around town with the dog. He smiled as she passed. She smiled back like a proud grandmother, her cinnamon hair and closely clustered features a perfect familial match. Liz came around the counter, limping without wincing, which led him to believe the injury was not new, maybe even congenital.

“How’s your coyote?”

“Don’t think we can call her mine. But she’s breathing, lapped a little mash, a little water.”

“Predators will smell her injuries.”

“I called a friend to watch her.”

Liz raised her brows. “Does she know not to touch?”

“He’s
good with animals, children, and former drunks.” No telling why he’d said it, but understanding dawned in her face.

“Ah.”

“I’ll try the antibiotics you mentioned.”

“Sure.” She went through a door and came back with a pill bottle. “Bury these in raw meat, liverwurst, peanut butter, anything that sparks her interest. She should swallow it whole.”

He took the bottle. “Thank you for coming over last night, risking contact.”

She gave him a knowing look. “I doubt half what I’ve heard is true.”

He stiffened.

She broke into a smile. “Just teasing.”

She’d either learned things from people in town or she’d been probing. “What do I owe you for the pills?”

“If you keep her until she bears her litter, I’d like two.”

Now it was his turn for surprise. “If a coyote mated the coydog, they’ll be wilder than she is. Full grown, two of them could take you down.”

A smile touched her lips. “I’ll take my chances.”

He shook his head. “I can’t be responsible.”

“I’m sure you can—when you want to be.”

“That’s not what I—” Again she’d been teasing. Flirting. He sized her up.

“So that’s the deal,” she said. “If the medicine makes her well, I have my choice of the litter.”

He sighed. “We’ll talk about it when the time comes.” Chances were good the animal wouldn’t live long enough to bear pups or would run off to bear them in secret.

As he got into his truck, the radio dispatched a call to the middle- and high-school complex. Arson in the boys’ locker room. Someone had lit a heap of sweaty gym socks on fire. Jonah radioed that he was on it. He even had a guess who’d done it.

The fire department had everything under control when he arrived. Standing in the parking lot, while the firefighters removed the soaked and charred material, Lieutenant “Stogy” Sanders gave him the rundown. “The emergency sprinklers extinguished the blaze before it really got going. Little, if any, accelerant used. Not even possibly accidental.”

Jonah nodded. It was the kind of thing adolescent boys found funny before their frontal lobes matured. But fire was no toy. They’d bring juvie charges.

Jonah turned to the man beside him. “Any ideas, Coach?”

“Snyder’s in my office. I suggested he wait around and talk with you.”

“You left him alone in your office?”

“Cozzie’s with him.”

The girls’ softball coach was built like a cannon. Packed about the same punch too, without raising a hand. Jonah went in and relieved her, staring down the kid he’d reprimanded a couple of months ago for luring a stray dog with lunch meat, then tossing cherry bombs. They might be discussing more than arson today.

Ten

So we grew together, like to a double cherry, seeming parted, but yet an union in partition.

—WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE

P
iper pulled open the pantry door and shrieked.

“Shh.” Wedged between the wall and shelves, the big guy clamped his hands to his ears.

Heart pumping, she pressed her palm to her chest. “What are you doing?”

“He’s looking for me.” The Lego man looked miserable, drawing his big knees to his chest

“The chief?”

One decisive nod.

“Because you messed up Tia’s shop?”

“I didn’t mean to.”

Piper crouched down. “Of course you didn’t.”

“She touched me. And I bumped the shelves. Then everything was falling.” He rubbed his knees. “I can’t go to jail with all the germs and dirty people.” He closed his eyes and shuddered.

“Why would you go to jail?”

“I saw him. I saw his face.” He gave her a pointed look. “He was very angry.”

“That’s because he talked to Tia. They’re always mad at each other.”

He clearly disbelieved her. “Why?”

“They have a love-hate thing.”

He moaned. “I’m dead.”

“You’re making this worse than it is. Come out of the pantry.”

He shook his head.

Sighing, she reached for the broom. “I’m going to sweep the front. You can sneak out the back or come up and have something nice and warm from the case.”

She went out to the front. The few tables had emptied, and no one waited at the counter. He must have run in when she had the kitchen door propped open to let out the smoke. She wouldn’t think such a natty dresser would sit on the floor, but that was probably his least concern.

Starting in the front by the window, she whisked the broom over the floor. A few minutes later, she sensed motion behind her and turned. The man was standing nervously beside the counter, watching her. She pointed toward the case. “What would you like?”

His Adam’s apple moved in his neck. “There are no fig and pine-nut sticky rolls.”

“No.”

“No spinach, kalamata, and goat cheese.”

“Sarge doesn’t like me doing anything different.”

He studied her solemnly, then pointed. “A cheddar roll, if you wash your hands.”

She set the broom against the wall. “One cheddar roll coming up.” She washed at the small sink, pulled on a glove, and used a tissue to hand him the food. “It’s on me.”

His brow puckered. “You don’t want me to pay? It’s free of charge?”

“Yep. But you should tell me your name. If we’re meeting in closets and all.”

That surprised an uneasy smile onto his face. “It’s Miles.”

“Like miles to go before I sleep?”

“Like Miles Standish.”

“Your last name is Standish?”

“I won’t tell my last name. Then you could find me.” He jerked a glance over his shoulder, a strange gesture for such a big guy.

“Well, you can find me.”

“Only here. At work. Not where you live.”

“Okay.” She smiled. “I’m Piper.”

They didn’t shake hands. Standing in front of the counter, he devoured the roll without dropping a crumb.

“So here’s what I think, Miles. We should talk to the police chief, let him know it was an accident, and offer to help Tia.”

“No. I can’t. You didn’t
see
him.”

She had the other night when he’d upset Tia. He looked hard and edgy. Maybe the chief did have a dark side. What did she really know? “Well, think about it, okay?”

When he’d gone, she took the broom and finished sweeping, straightened the chairs around the tables, and then placed the call.

The chief strode in a half-hour later. “You have information for me?”

“His name is Miles. He didn’t mean to cause trouble, and he’s afraid of you.”

“Of me?”

She nodded.

“He’s never even seen me. What are you—”

“He saw you leaving Tia’s shop, and you looked mad.”

Jonah planted his hands on his waist. “Saw me from where?”

“I don’t know. I found him in the pantry.”

“What?” The edge was back.

“He was scared.”

“Help me understand. He tore up Tia’s shop, then hid over here?”

“He didn’t mean to do that.”

“He injured her.”

“What?” She searched his face. “Tia’s hurt?”

“More than she’s admitting.”

Miles hadn’t said a word about hurting Tia, not a word. How could he not say anything? “I need to see her.” She locked the register and scooted out around the counter.

“Piper.” His voice was low and even. “I want to talk to him. If he comes back, you let me know.”

She’d have to. “Fine.” She motioned him out the door and locked it, flipping her sign, then rushed next-door.

Startled by the knock, Tia bumped her elbow on the shelf and rubbed the pain away as she unlocked the door.

“Are you all right?”

“It’s just a bump.”

“I mean everything.”

Tia slumped. “Yeah well, it’s kind of a mess.”

“Jonah said you’re hurt.”

“Jonah should keep his mouth shut.”

“He’s worried.”

“It’s none of his business.”

“Yeah, that’s hard when he’s in love with you.”

Tia straightened as though jerked up by a rope.

“Come on, Tia. It couldn’t be more obvious if his forehead flashed neon.”

Tia stepped back and winced again.

“Your leg looks bad.”

“It feels worse.” She grimaced.

“Did you take something?”

“I found an old Percocet in my purse, but it hasn’t kicked in yet. Aren’t you open next-door?”

“Only to clean up and close down.” She fished a pottery shard from under a shelf and added it to the pile Tia had swept up. “Tia, Miles didn’t mean to do this.”

“Miles?”

She nodded. “The Lego man. His name is Miles. He didn’t mean—”

“I know that. But …” She spread her hands, encompassing the scope of it.

“He’s scared he’ll go to jail.”

Tia frowned. “Why would he go to jail?”

“Because the chief of police looked so mad when he walked out of here. I told him you and Jonah get mad every time you see each other, but—”

“No, we don’t.” Tia leaned on a shelf, taking the weight off her leg.

“You need to put that up. I’ll make an ice pack.” She returned to the bakery, fashioned Tia a bag of ice wrapped in a towel, then hurried back.

Tia gingerly lowered herself to the stool behind the counter. She bent her knee and positioned the bruise onto the pack. “Thanks. That’ll help.”

“I’m sorry this happened.”

“I’m all right.”

“Can I make you some tea?”

“I’d like that.”

Piper heated the electric kettle in the back, brewed a cup of strong sweet tea. Wasn’t that the remedy for all that ails? “Here you go.” She set the cup and saucer next to Tia’s leg.

“Thanks.”

“Can I do anything else?”

“You should finish up next-door. Just lock up please, when you go out.”

“I’ll come back when I’m done.”

“No need. I’ll see you at home.”

Tia looked grim, but Piper let it be. She had work to finish, and Tia knew where to find her—if she’d ever ask for help. Piper hated the parasitic tendencies of her clan, but could someone be too self-sufficient?

As the heat of her injury melted the ice pack, Tia leaned her head back and closed her eyes. The shop grew dark, and the tea turned cold, but Piper’s insight regarding Jonah weighed on her. If she could see it in so short a time, what must others think? Had she only been fooling herself?

Dark thoughts closed around her, skeletal fingers boring into her skull, evil whispers in her ears. She could name the demons. Self-loathing. Regret. Despair. They had no power she didn’t give them. But they clung to her now as memories of Reba flowed one into another.

Her beautiful, sweet sister with strawberry blond hair, their dad’s fair skin, and a dusting of freckles across her nose and cheeks. Reba didn’t hate her freckles. She knew they made her cute, fresh, wholesome. And they had mostly disappeared by adolescence.

Sarge had likened her to Hayley Mills, the young heartthrob of the fifties, Pollyanna bringing sunshine to the world. Then came Tia, favoring her mother’s side, with her darker skin and the shape and snap of her eyes. She had none of her mild father, his soft voice and pliant nature. Strong-willed, they’d called her. Tempestuous.

She didn’t remember what she’d fought about. It probably hadn’t mattered. It was all intangibles, needs that drove impulses and drew reactions. She wished she could say she didn’t care. But every slicing criticism had drawn blood that only Reba saw.

Tia closed her eyes. Jonah could have made it right. If he had begged and apologized, Reba would have forgiven him, forgiven them.

Tears came.

She’d spent the years since studying psychology for an explanation—an excuse?—for her behavior. If nothing else, she had to know she would never make such a mistake again. She’d wanted to help others to avoid pitfalls, to understand their fragilities. But even with two college degrees, that desire had come to nothing.

Her leg grew numb. She dropped her head to her chest, letting the fog cloud the memories, then yelped when someone rattled the door. She swung her leg down and peered at the night-filled window. Jonah, hands pressed to the glass, peered back. She prayed he wouldn’t see her in the dim security lights concentrated overhead. No luck.

“Go away.”

He knocked. “Come on, Tia.”

She braced herself against the counter, itching as blood flowed back to her toes. Her calf howled with pain. Limping to the door she freed the lock. “What?”

“Piper called. She’s frantic. She tried your cell and both doors.”

She had turned off her cell, but how had she missed Piper knocking? Percocet. It must have knocked her out.

“What are you doing here in the dark?”

“I guess I missed the ‘I answer to Jonah’ memo.”

He pulled her onto the sidewalk where the outer lamp illuminated her tears. “Is it your leg?”

“Will you stop butting in?”

“Piper called me. I’m a cop. I respond.” He blew out his breath. “I have a psychopath out there eviscerating animals, maybe the same one who tore up your shop because you touched him. And here you are, in the dark, alone.”

He had a point.

“It’s late, and you’re injured. For once, be reasonable. Let me take you home.”

She slumped against the jamb. “My purse is inside.”

“Where?”

“The back.”

He eased her inside the door and let it close, then moved through the shop under the security lights. Her whole body shook. The injury must be worse than she’d thought. The drug had certainly worn off.

Jonah returned with her purse and jacket. She reached for the coat, but he slid the sleeve up her arm and wrapped it around for the other. She closed her eyes as he settled it over her shoulders. Had her dad helped her that way when she was little? All she remembered were her own stubborn assertions,
“I can do it myself.”
She tugged her purse over her shoulder.

Jonah supported her elbow as she limped through the door. He half lifted her into the Bronco at the curb, her leg throbbing as she positioned it. Jonah reached for the buckle, but she took it from him. She couldn’t let him reach across.

He stepped back and closed the door, walked around, and invaded the space inside with a presence that consumed oxygen. She’d never ridden alone with him. Silence climbed in to chaperon. He parked directly across her front walk. She opened the door, but before she could get her wounded leg to the concrete, he was there holding her arm.

“I can do it.”

He closed the door behind her and guided her toward the house. She didn’t want him at her door, but there he was. She fumbled for her keys.

He raised her chin. “They don’t care, Tia.”

A lump filled her throat.

“You’re never going to change their minds. Even if you spend your whole life alone.”

She didn’t pretend to not know what he meant. “Can you imagine the names I was called by my own mother?”

“Yes. Mine can hardly stand to look at me.”

“But not because of me, Jonah.”