Indivisible (4 page)

He spit a wood fragment and stared at the chewed pencil, memory washing over him of Miss Matthews shaking her head.
“You must be part woodchuck, Jonah.”
The other kids had laughed, but he didn’t care because her dimples had peeked out when she said it, and he’d needed every smile he got.

“Boy! When I find you …”
Jonah pressed his eyes shut, seeing the dark shed, smelling the dust and grease and musty mouse scat. Small enough to fit into the hollows between the junk, he had faced the black widows more readily than the fist that held the belt. His only hope had been to hide longer than the meanness. Still and silent in the dark, he had thought about things like Miss Matthews’s dimples.

Exhausted, Piper collapsed on a chair in Tia’s workshop, in the back room of her store. She pulled the band off her ponytail, and groaned. “How did Sarge do it?”

Tia looked up from the table where she’d been drawing designs. “Have you been at the bakery this whole time?”

“Well, I closed at two like always, but I noticed everything was looking dingy, especially the front, so I scrubbed it down, walls, windows, floorboards, tables, chairs.”

“Hmm.” Tia closed her sketch pad. “Stress cleaning?”

“I guess I was worried.” She let the hair hang between her fingers.

“Sarge is a tough old bird.”

“He didn’t look tough curled up on the floor.” She could still see him writhing. “He made me go out front, but I didn’t know how bad the pain was or I wouldn’t have left him alone.”

“Sarge doesn’t allow insubordination.”

“But I should have realized …”

“You really couldn’t have. Sarge would rather die than admit he needs help.”

Piper sighed. “I still don’t know if I did the right thing. He was spitting nails.”

“I saw.”

Piper raised her brows.

“You were out front.”

“At least it’s over.”

She had fumbled her way through the morning rush, baked frantically, and made it through the substantial lunch crowd. Sarge had not told her what to do with the money, and she didn’t know the combination to the safe, so she’d stuck the zippered transfer bag in the lower oven and locked the shop. Yeah, it was over. “Until tomorrow.” She groaned.

“Shh.”

She felt Tia’s hand come over her eyes.

“Keep them closed.”

The snick of a match left an acrid smell. The air moved when Tia brushed the smoke away and another scent took over.

After a few moments, she said, “Now, breathe.”

Piper drew a slow breath in through her nose. The new aroma smelled soft and mysterious, like a dream she could not quite recall.

“That’s nice.”

“It’s called Peace.” Tia’s cool fingertips pressed into her temples and rubbed, her fingers spreading out, making small circles over the sides of her head.

Piper surrendered her scalp into their care, murmuring, “Peace.”

“It’s from my Sacred Scents collection.” Tia’s thumbs moved to the base of her skull. “The insert reads: ‘Come to Me, all who are weary and heavy-laden, and I will give you rest.’”

“I like that. How’d you come up with it?”

She could hear the smile. “Jesus said it.”

“Like, two thousand years ago?”

“Go figure.”

Tia was teasing, but Piper sank deeper into the ministration.
Come to me, you who are weary
. Had it really been so bad? A little rushing back and forth, some rude and disgruntled customers. But she’d managed. Sarge had gotten help, and he’d only yelled at her once. “Can I be you when I grow up?”

“Better to be you, sweetie.”

Tia’s tone was soft and warm but hinted at sadness.

“The chief sure helped. Without him, I’d have panicked. You could have heard my heartbeat across the street. Then he came in and, I don’t know, it felt like everything would be all right.” He’d soothed her then, just as Tia’s massage soothed her now. “He was really good.”

“I bet.” Tia didn’t hide the edge.

Piper slid a glance upward. “What happened with you and Jonah Westfall?”

Tia’s hands slipped away, and Piper regretted the question. Most people wanted to share. Tia was like a mirror reflecting conversation back to others. She listened in a way that made it all about you.

But this was about Tia, and it felt important. “Come on, tell me.”

Tia rested her palms on the chair. “He broke my sister’s heart.”

“Your sister?” She could have sworn it was more personal than that. “Are you close?”

Tia sighed. “We were.”

Yet until now she hadn’t seen or heard a word about a sister. “Where is she?”

“She moved to Arizona.”

“Because of Jonah?”

“Sort of. She got married.”

“Then she couldn’t have been too heartbroken.”

“Ever heard of rebound?”

Piper scratched her cheek, peeling away a shard of caked flour. “Where’s the rest of your family?”

“They’re all there. Reba had a difficult pregnancy, and my parents went down to help out.”

“You didn’t?”

“Mom asked me to watch the shop.”

“The Half Moon?”

Tia nodded.

“I thought it was yours.”

“It basically is.”

“How long has she been gone?”

“Nine years.”

“Nine years? Did it occur to you she might not be coming back?”

“No, Piper. It never entered my mind.” Her tone bit.

“Right. Sorry. It’s just a long time to mind someone else’s business.” She’d obviously hit a nerve, and there was more to it than Tia was saying.

“After the first grandchild, there was the next and then a third.”

That could explain the sadness that sometimes crept in. Had they all made a new life and left her behind? Maybe she hadn’t wanted to go. “You miss them?”

Tia hesitated. “Yes.”

Four

The person who tries to live alone will not succeed as a human being. His heart withers if it does not answer another heart. His mind shrinks away if he hears only the echoes of his own thoughts and finds no other inspiration.

—PEARL S. BUCK

T
ia sank onto the chair Piper had vacated. She didn’t feel bad for not going out to eat with her. The times they had gone, guys had vied for Piper’s attention and even the privilege of paying. Her beauty and high spirits strummed a chord that had the male population humming. Tia half smiled. Only six years between them, but it felt like ages.

She pressed her palms to her eyes, thankful the discussion had ended before she had to cut it off. She had no intention of wallowing. Truth was, she didn’t even know how to tell it anymore without sounding pathetic. When was she going to live her own life? How had she forfeited the right? Or maybe she’d never possessed it.

Her parents had borne one perfect child; what did they need with an inferior model? Her colicky, strong-willed nature had acted like a repellent. Her smart mouth had reflected a smart mind, if anyone had cared to notice. Her energy and spirit needed channeling, not crushing.

Her parents had made no effort to hide their feelings from her teachers, her friends and their parents. Here’s what you can expect from
that
child. Reba had tried to make up for the glaring discrepancy in affection by buying her lip gloss and trinkets. She adored Reba for trying.

Her cell phone rang, the tone designated for the number on her fliers. She picked it up. “Hopeline.”

“Yeah, um.” The caller sniffled. “Do you, like, listen and tell me what to do?”

“I listen and pray, and together we consider your possibilities.”

The voice was young. “Well. It’s my friend. My used-to-be best friend …”

This took her back to Rachel Muerrisey, who through some faux pas had lost her standing at the top of the order.
“What do I do? You’re used to no one liking you. I don’t know what to do without friends.”

Tia had shaken off the barb with a toss of her head.
“Pretend you’re me, a wild pirate child more fleet of foot and deft of hand than any sailor who scaled the masts. You need no one, but seeing your fearsome, spirited ways, they will clamor back to you, seeking your favor.”

It had worked, and in the ruthless way of children, Rachel had no further need of Tia Manning.

Closing her eyes, she emptied herself now and listened, confident that her words would give this caller comfort and courage, while in the back of her mind a voice cried hypocrite. She gave callers hope, helped them forgive others and themselves, yet she could not free herself. No—would not.

Jonah roughed up his hair and stood. His knees felt creaky from sitting so long, but he’d been able to concentrate without being called out more than a handful of times. He checked his watch. Officer Donnelly was late. Jonah frowned. He didn’t run things with a heavy hand but expected punctuality. Newly, McCarthy, and even the rookie, Beatty, were fairly reliable. Moser ran like a clock, but Sue …

She rushed in, snapping on her weapon belt. “Sorry. Sorry, Jonah. I had to get Eli to his grandma’s.”

“Where’s Sam?”

“He had a conflict.”

Normally he’d let it go at that, but Ruth’s comment had stuck. “Of the bender sort?”

She looked up, startled, then down. “He’s not drunk.”

“Pot? Blow?”

She shrugged.

“Meth?”

“I don’t know, Jonah.”

“Where’s he getting it?”

“He won’t say. Obviously.” She straightened her shirt. “Anyway, I’m here.”

“Need a few minutes to get yourself together?”

“No.” She smoothed her hands over her short brown hair and fixed him with her quick, sparrow eyes. “Just fill me in.”

She looked a little green by the time he’d finished, though the bulge in her stomach might account for that. He wondered how long she would wait to tell him. Maternity leave would stretch her finances, especially if Sam was using—unless of course he was producing his own.

Time to let the raccoons go. He had a string of petty burglaries and an encroaching drug situation that could be related. The worst used to be marijuana possession. Less than an ounce kept it local; more went to the county. Lately worse substances had been creeping in.

Annexing the Pine Crest development of mansions, golf courses, shops, and amenities east along Kicking Horse Creek—not to mention the soon-to-open ski resort—would raise the population and more than triple the average income if it went through. He hoped, as the council had opined, that the changes would all be for the good. But rising revenues did not guarantee an increase in his staff or budget. All depended on who grabbed first and held on hardest.

He went to the school, used his key to enter the weight room, pumped iron to the point of fatigue, then showered and let himself out. All the officers had this benefit, a thank-you for the work they did keeping the combination elementary, middle, and high school as safe as any in the state. So far they didn’t have to work too hard, but he’d glimpsed the first stirrings of gang activity and would not allow it a foothold.

From the early childhood safety programs to middle-school character training and gang awareness courses, he would fight for them. He and his officers served as resources to high-school students and officials in ways he had to believe were making a difference. If he encountered a kid presenting the evidence of abuse that he had, he would not look the other way, no matter who the parents were.

Things happened despite his vigilance, but he did his best. He might have gone into the job for the wrong reasons, but he was made for it. Even off duty, he could be reached at all times, and everyone knew it. It lent him an aura of omniscience if not omnipotence. A strong presence discouraged mischief, true in spite of the man he’d learned it from.

A pride of young males mouthed off to one another on a street corner as he approached, then demonstrated exaggerated bonhomie when he drew abreast. Bunch of goons. He raised a hand, and three of them waved. A glance in his rearview caught one of them with a one-finger salute. He could make it an issue, but the kid was only trying to gain stature with the group, not easy at five feet six with a geeky haircut and a mouthful of braces.

Up ahead, a car rolled past the stop sign, then jerked to a stop when the driver saw his Bronco. Jonah shot him a glance as he passed. The scare of almost getting caught should make the guy respect intersections for a week or two. Redford had only one light, the rest four-way stops. Most people treated the signs like neighbors to nod at.

He normally ate at home, but tonight he pulled into the back parking lot at Bailey’s Diner. Breathing the exhaust of charred grease and beef juices, he walked around to the front. Behind the see-through, Richie Bailey looked up from scraping the grill and acknowledged him with a chin bob. Jonah raised a hand, then took a seat at a red Naugahyde booth.

Once upon a time, Richie Bailey had tormented him regularly. Two incarcerations for assault cured his bullying, but you never knew what simmered underneath. Did he take it out on animals in the woods? He looked around the room. Had someone else in there tortured those two raccoons? What did that kind of crazy look like?

Libby Gabaroni slapped down a napkin roll and gave him a grin, no doubt recalling their wrangling behind the high-school gym. Her bouncy bust had amazed him then. Now she took jigglers to a whole new realm.

Jonah opened the menu and chose the burger that topped the list, a half-pound beef patty with pickles, onion, and mustard—no ketchup, they knew. He sipped the icy Coke she brought a few minutes later and tuned in to the conversations around him. The booths were low and good for eavesdropping, not that people hushed up around him anyway, not the way a room had gone silent when the former police chief walked in—people sitting a little straighter, clearing their throats as though they could scrape out anything he might not want to hear.

People nodded and waved, but no one slid in to chat. Jonah swallowed the last of his burger and wiped his mouth. Libby had kept him supplied with refills, but he put a hand over his glass and asked for the check. She had it ready in her pocket, and he handed over the total plus tip.

She looked at the money in her hand. “You want change?”

It’s yours.

She blushed. “No need to hurry out, you know.”

He nodded but got up as soon as she had cleared the way. Hanging around would send her a message he didn’t want to send.

“Chief.”

He turned at the tug on his sleeve.

Merv Brothers pressed a key into his palm. “This’ll get you into the you-know-what. You take a look, and tell me there isn’t something funny going on.”

“How’d you get the key?”

Merv raised pale blue eyes in his whisker-studded, leathery face. “Gave it to me himself, long time ago, when we were speakin’.” He ran a hand over his wispy hair. “You watch yourself going in. He says it’s wired to blow. Might be for alls I know.”

“He told you the shed is wired?”

“He could be lyin’.”

“I’d still need a warrant to look without permission. But I’ll hold on to this.” If Tom Caldwell had booby-trapped the shed between their properties, he didn’t want Merv deciding to sneak in himself. “I’ll go by and talk to him.”

Merv shook his head. “Won’t do a spit of good. He’ll jump your throat like a junkyard dog sayin’ what’s his business is none of yours.”

“Well, I have to follow protocol.” He pocketed the key. “But I’ll look into it.” He’d made it to the door with Merv still at his elbow.

“Take my word for it. You oughta have you a look without getting his back up.”

“I’ll do my best.” He passed through the door and left Merv rubbing his jaw. He avoided neighbor disputes as much as he could. Open that door and he’d have a continuous stream of whiners. In this case Merv had shared some troubling observations, and it wouldn’t hurt to check it out, but not tonight.

Since the officers on duty had the patrol cars, Jonah took his Bronco down the mountain. He had shampooed the upholstery, cutting the stink in half, but only time would fully eradicate it. The medical center that served the surrounding region was about a fifty-minute drive away, so there was no chance he’d hold his breath. Helicopter could make it in twenty, but most people requiring that lift were taken farther down to a larger, better-equipped hospital. It was good Sarge remained at Tri-County—though the staff might disagree. His hollering carried all the way down the hall.

When would Sarge stop needing to give the orders? Jonah stepped into the room. The corners of the old man’s lips were white with spit as he reprimanded the nurse who depressed the syringe into his IV. She said nothing, but the tight line of her mouth gave her away.

“Hey, Sarge.” Jonah said. “Why’re you giving the nurse a hard time?”

She looked up with a little hitch. Sometimes it was about the uniform, but he’d changed clothes before coming. Her cheeks flushed. “Are you a relative?” She meant,
Could you possibly be related to this mean, cantankerous, old snake?

“Just friends.”

An even greater shock. Familial duty she could understand, but voluntary friendship? The nurse gathered the sterile wrappers and discarded the needle. “That should calm you down, Mr. Beaker.”

“Sergeant,” he growled. “It’s Sergeant Beaker.” But whatever she’d laced his IV with had softened his fangs.

“It will also help with the spasms.” She cast Jonah a smile, the sway of her slim hips in pastel scrubs just enough to show she wasn’t all work. “Stay as long as you like, but he’ll get dozy.”

Jonah nodded and took the seat beside Sarge.

He snarled. “What are you gawping at?”

“One stubborn old goat.”

Sarge raised his hands. “I’d like to get these around her little neck.”

“The nurse?”

“Not the nurse. That one who tricked me into hiring her.”

Jonah crossed his arms. “Why would you want to strangle Piper?”

“For sending me here when it was nothing more than—”

“Sarge, let them decide.”

“And just what do you think they can do for me?”

Good point. The way Sarge was twisted up, all sorts of things could be pinched and impinged. He didn’t suppose they could put a knee to his back and pull him up straight. “If it’s bad enough to lay you out, it’s time to have it checked.”

“I’m seventy-four years old. I’ll decide when I need it checked.”

“This spasm had you speechless. We thought you’d had a stroke. Probably scared Piper to death, not hearing you shout.”

Sarge tried not to smile, which didn’t improve the shape of his mouth. “Who’s going to manage the store while I’m lying here?”

“Piper handled things today.”

“Hah.” Sarge glowered.

“Not as efficiently as two of you together, but people will understand.”

“They’ll understand me right out of business.”

“Now Sarge.”

The old man jammed a finger at him. “She serve anything new?”