Chapter Eleven #3
“I went by Dad’s and grabbed a few hours. I mean—” He lowered his voice again. “If you want to know the truth, I didn’t think Mom would be here when I got home. I’m getting tired of her biting my head off.”
Jude knew the feeling. “She’s carrying a lot of responsibility on her shoulders right now. Allison was her friend. She lost someone she cared about. Let’s give her some grace.”
“She hasn’t said anything about losing Grandma. We were getting ready to bury her this time yesterday. It’s like it doesn’t even matter.”
Jude didn’t need Emmy to say the words. She could see it in the way Emmy’s hands would start to shake when a memory was triggered, the sudden appearance of tears in her eyes, how she gritted her teeth and the way the muscles in her neck would clench.
Grief bubbled inside of her like water ready to boil.
She reached her hand across the table to Cole. “What about you, sweetheart? Do you want to talk about Grandma? I’m happy to listen.”
“Nah, I’m okay.”
Jude retracted her hand. She had forgotten he was still a Clifton. She might as well try to teach a fish to drive a car. “What now? You’ll take a nap and then what?”
His shoulder went up in another half-shrug, as if to ask What’s the point?
Jude wasn’t going to let him wallow too much. “Sweetheart, you’re still the most junior deputy at the station. Shitwork is your work until the next junior deputy comes along.”
“Maybe.” The microwave dinged. Cole got up before she could. “At least I’m not Brett. She put him on doubles guarding Mandy at night. Wouldn’t even let him have a chair to sit down.”
“Good.” Jude watched his fork blur as he wolfed down the casserole. “I asked you a question. What’s your plan?”
“I know you’re gonna tell me to find a way to make myself useful to the case, but I don’t see how that’s gonna happen when I’m behind a desk all day.”
Jude had led too many investigations not to have a quick suggestion. “You saw the photos from Allison’s dining room. She used a telephoto lens to capture them.”
Cole perked up. “But the camera wasn’t in the house, right?”
Jude was proud of him for reading Sherry’s inventory. “Right.”
“Maybe the killer ditched it on the side of the road.” Cole assumed the Posture, head down, phone in his hands as his thumbs moved across the screen. “I’ll put out a BOLO to see if we can find it. Maybe I should go to the pawnshops over in Ocmulgee.”
“They probably won’t open until nine. Your mother’s right that you need to rest. You’ll work more efficiently if you’re not exhausted. And she doesn’t need her own son openly disobeying orders.”
“Yeah, she gets enough of that from Brett.” Cole rinsed his plate and fork in the sink, then stuck them both in the dishwasher. “Thanks for breakfast.”
Jude felt his lips brush the top of her head before he bounded up the stairs. That was a first. Her hand went to her face. She felt like she was glowing.
“Got it. Yep.” Emmy finished her phone call and started typing into her phone as she came downstairs. She told Jude, “Uncle Penley thinks I’m his personal 911. Some jackass left a can of tomato soup in his mailbox as a stupid prank. Why did you let Celia leave all that food?”
Her tone implied some sort of human rights violation. Jude returned the prickliness. “Does Celia own three different types of label makers?”
“Taybee.” Emmy mumbled the name like a curse as she opened the fridge.
“There’s just us. Half of this is gonna go to waste.
” Jude watched her close the fridge and pour a fresh mug of coffee.
Her movements were slow. She was clearly sore from Reggie knocking her to the ground.
The circles under her eyes were several shades darker than before.
Jude couldn’t help herself. “You should get some rest before you go back out.”
“Great idea.” Her sarcasm had lost some of its steam. “I laid down on one of the cots at the jail. I can’t sleep when I don’t have a case going. Not sure how I’d manage to fall asleep in the middle of this.”
“You could take something.”
“Are addicts supposed to encourage people to take drugs?”
“We’re like a street gang, remember? Always recruiting.”
Emmy raised her mug to acknowledge the point. She winced when she leaned back against the counter. “I’m guessing Cole already told you about Brett. Go ahead and get your I-told-you-so out of the way.”
Jude looked down at her hands again. At a certain point, it was the very definition of insanity to keep doing the same thing and hoping for a different outcome. “Was Mom still volunteering at the soup kitchen? I could take some of that food to the church.”
“I assumed you’d try to tag along with me today.”
“Like a puppy pad waiting for you to shit yourself?” Jude watched Emmy busy herself with the position of the handle on her mug. “Maybe I’ll ask Tommy if he wants to go fishing.”
“He only allows dogs and fish on his boat.”
“Then I’ll stay here and read a book. Got any suggestions?”
“Mom donated all her books when—” Emmy coughed to hide the fact that her voice had caught. “She couldn’t follow the plots anymore.”
The catch brought Jude an exquisite pain.
Emmy turned away again. She looked out the window, her profile bathed in early morning light.
Her hand trembled when she lifted the mug to her mouth.
Jude saw the muscles in her neck tighten as she swallowed.
Her eyes had flooded with tears. The room felt smaller, then it slowly closed in so that there was nothing left but the two of them.
Jude allowed herself another memory from forty-two years ago.
Driving down from Memphis with a baby so new to the world that she didn’t have a birth certificate, let alone a name.
Jude had left the hospital out the back door because the cops were coming in through the front.
She was barely outside the city limits when the baby had started screaming.
Her wails had been like a siren. There was nothing Jude could do to soothe her.
Then a cover of “Sweet Dreams” had started to play on the radio.
Gerald had always loved listening to Emmylou Harris.
Jude still knew all the words to every song.
On that cold, dark morning on the side of the road, she had cradled her child in her arms while she sang her the softest serenade.
By the last line of the song, only Jude was crying.
She couldn’t get over Emmy Lou’s delicate eyelashes.
The clear, startling blue of her eyes. The perfect shape of her face.
The sweet smell of her head. The insistent tap of her heartbeat against the palm of Jude’s hand.
Sweet dreams of you.
Every night I go through.
Why can’t I forget you and start my life anew
Instead of having sweet dreams about you
Jude had not known at the time how prophetic the lines would be. The longing and loss. The unrelenting heartbreak. If she’d had the chance to do it again, she would’ve changed the lyrics to take out the sadness.
She was pulled out of the memory when Emmy sat down at the table. There was no time to decipher her expression. Emmy bowed her head, kept her eyes on the mug as she cupped it between her hands. A few very long seconds passed before she started talking.
“Mandy made it through the night. Layla asked me to give it another day before I try to talk to her again.”
Jude watched her start turning the mug.
“I couldn’t stop looking at Mandy’s socials.
” Emmy let out a long, slow breath, as if the confession took away a piece of her soul.
“She’s only been alive for sixteen years.
Her whole life is online. School dances and volleyball games and sleepovers and videos with her friends dancing to music and she looks so happy and normal.
You’d never guess what was going on at home. ”
Emmy gripped the mug.
“I’ve known Allison since I put on a uniform, and I worried over her, lost sleep over her, even asked Mom to pray for her.
” Emmy gave a light laugh at the futility.
“I never once thought about Mandy. I just assumed—I dunno. I assumed she was safe the same way I assumed Cole was safe. And before you ask, Jonah never touched him. Cole and I already had that conversation. More times than either of us wanted to.”
Jude waited through the silence.
“I know online isn’t real life, but all I can think about is how much work it must’ve been for Mandy to live with that constant, unbearable stress at home, then go to school and hang out with her friends and be a teenager and pretend like everything was okay.
And to be a kid with absolutely no power to change anything—I don’t know how it didn’t break her. ”
Jude thought that Mandy’s life sounded a hell of a lot like Emmy’s had been lately. Certainly not the abuse, but the trauma of witnessing Gerald’s death and Myrna’s deterioration, then going out into the world every single day as if none of it was happening.
“I get so angry at you.”
Jude almost felt relieved to hear her say the words out loud. “And then I’m so grateful for your help. But you can’t breathe without pissing me off.” Emmy laughed again, but more at herself. “I can’t tell you why. You could probably tell me, but I’m not in a place where I can hear it.”
Emmy put the mug to her lips but didn’t drink. She returned it to the table. Cupped it in her hands again. She was clearly finished, but Jude didn’t offer a response. They both sat across from each other, dueling silences between them.
Jude took in her own deep breath.
Many years ago, she had talked to a therapist who’d told her that forgiveness was a parent’s primary job.
It was your responsibility to reach out first. You didn’t force them to come to you.
No matter how badly a child behaved, how many times they pushed you away, how often they were hurtful or even cruel—regardless of their age—you certainly didn’t have to excuse their behavior, or even put up with it, but you had to make it clear that you forgave them.