Chapter 22 #2
“As in his aunt and uncle, yeah. Though, to be fair, they’d pretty much written him off after everything that happened with Carol Ann.
But I think they were grateful to my dad for giving him someplace to live.
” Max winced, his skin seeming stretched a little too tight across his face. “And now, someplace to die.”
“You said Joe wasn’t connected to what happened to Carol Ann, though. That’s what you said, right? Was that not the case?”
Another wince. “He didn’t cause it or anything, no. No way. They dated for years before she got sick. He worshipped the ground she walked on—she was the rich girl in the county, he was the hired help, that sort of thing.”
“Your family didn’t have a problem with that?”
“Carol Ann was always a little…flighty,” Max said. “Joe wasn’t. He was normal. Nice. Good with the horses, gentle as anything. Easygoing.”
I looked at him. We were almost at the house now. “And this is the guy who took his own life.”
“Yeah, well. It’s been a rough patch of years.”
We climbed the steps to the house, and I felt my skin ice over, like the temperature had dropped a good ten degrees between the grassy front yard and the porch. The sensation fled as soon as it came, but I still held my arms close to my body, my hand curving around the strap of my pack.
I felt not one stirring of the demon inside me. Probably a good thing.
Right?
“Officer Michaels, this is Delia Thompson,” Max said, refocusing me. “I told you she was coming for a visit.”
Officer Michaels was a stocky man, but his uniform fit him well. He hadn’t gone soft recently; he was just big and fleshy in the way I expected most small-town cops to be. He nodded to me, his face impassive. “Did you know the deceased?”
“No, sir,” I said. “Max had told me about him, but I’d never met him.”
“How long will you be staying?”
“I don’t know.” I tightened my hand on my strap. “Um, should I not be here? Am I causing a problem or anything?”
Fortunately, the cop was already shaking his head. “No, no.” His gaze slid to Max’s, who put a protective hand on my arm.
“I told her Joe was dead,” he said firmly. “That—that we didn’t know what had happened, but that it looked like he’d hung himself.”
Officer Michaels looked at him for a long moment, then seemed to collapse in on himself a little, like a turtle withdrawing into its shell. “Hell of a thing,” he muttered, glancing back into the house, where I could hear other people talking. “I’ve known your dad a long time.”
I fought to keep my face steady. What did that have to do with anything? Unless…“Um, is there any possibility that Joe didn’t do this to himself?” I asked, eyes wide and hopefully guileless. “That there’s someone else out there in the woods or whatever—”
Michaels’s sigh was gratifyingly dismissive.
“We don’t have a reason for it, but there’s always the possibility that someone else was involved, talked Joe into doing it.
But—and I know we’ll tell the other story in town, but Max has never been able to lie to me in his life.
I know you know, and I appreciate your discretion. ”
He didn’t seem to notice me gaping, just kept on rolling.
“But the gunshot injuries were clearly self-inflicted. The coroner will have her report on that pretty fast. Possibly later today. The body will be available for burial after that, unless she finds anything.” He quirked a glance at Max.
“You taking responsibility for the body, or should I contact the Bells?”
“I’ve already spoken with them. Ware Funeral Home will take care of the body once it’s released from the morgue.
We’ll bury Joe in the Bells’ plot.” He gave me an additional explanation.
“Joe’s parents disowned him a long time ago, moved out of town, God only knows where. The Bells were sort of his guardians.”
“Oh.” The more I heard about Joe, the sketchier he got. Not that anyone in this family made any sense.
“Right.” Officer Michaels nodded firmly, as if he’d come to some decision.
“I might have more questions, but this is almost certainly going to be ruled suicide or, at best, accidental death. The latter would be easier for everyone, but we’ll have to see what the coroner says. Max, if you don’t mind—”
I let them draw away from me as my attention was pulled to the far side of the porch, where it graciously wrapped around the house, giving ample view to the now-empty paddock stretching beyond.
A couple stood shoulder to shoulder at the fence, looking out over the vast space.
The wind lifted the woman’s white hair and blew it back from her face; the man wore a ballcap pulled down over his forehead, though it looked like he had no hair at all. The Bells, had to be.
I closed my eyes, guilt washing over me as an unexpected thought assaulted me.
If I’d have stayed here all those days ago, would their nephew Joe still be alive?
Had my willingness to abandon the Graham estate, to run back to Chicago and act like everything was going to be okay, somehow left him unprotected?
Why hadn’t I asked to see the lake house when I’d come out here?
I’d gotten a creepy feeling about it without even seeing it.
Would I have been able to identify the signs of affliction in that house?
Probably.
The sudden return of the voice in my head made me jolt, and I hitched my bag up on my shoulder to cover the movement, my eyes flaring open again.
“They’re good people, you know. All of them.”
I about flung myself off the porch at the raspy voice. I turned and stared down at the old woman who’d somehow managed to walk up to me without making any sound at all. Max’s grandmother, Kate.
“I’m sorry?” I managed, trying not to shriek.
She gestured to the couple by the fence.
“The Bells. Bob Michaels, that nice policeman you just met. Even Joe.” Her mouth pursed, adding even more wrinkles in the webwork of fine lines traced over her face. “Poor dumbass Joe.”
I blinked, fought the smile. “Why was he a dumbass?”
“I know why you’re here, you know.” Her voice went a little lower, like she was confiding a secret to me, and her black eyes were cold, shrewd marbles sunk deep in her head. “Why you’re really here.”
A flush of embarrassment swept through me. “Max thought—”
“Bully with what Max thought. Max is a sweet boy who should never have gotten sucked back into the sins of his family.”
Sins? But before I could ask her, she continued. “You’re here not because you can help, but because you couldn’t stay away. You couldn’t leave it alone. But I’ve seen your type before, missy.”
I squinted at her. Embarrassment bled away, replaced by curiosity and something deeper. Sharper. “You don’t want me here?”
“Actually, I do,” the old woman retorted, surprising me. “Been long overdue, you ask me. This whole place is a boil waiting to burst.”
I flinched at that image as she turned to stare at the Bells.
I stared at them too. I had no reason to talk to the couple, but that was where I was drawn.
Max and his people were enclosed, insular, boxes within boxes.
I’d have to pull those boxes apart if I ever expected to understand what had happened here.
But the Bells were like an orbiting star.
The Bells and Michaels, the policeman. The coroner too.
The large animal vet. All these people who circled the lives of this privileged house, touching it for a moment before spinning away again.
How much did they know? How much could I ask them?
How much would this old woman tell me?
I glanced down at her. “If you knew things were getting bad here, why didn’t you do something about it?”
“Who’s to say I didn’t? You’re here, aren’t you?
” She cackled at my expression, shaking her head.
“Oh, honey, you’re going to need to do better than that.
Max seems to think you’ve got the blessing of God on High upon you.
You’ve made him a believer for sure. All I have to say is, he better be right. ”
“Yeah?” I asked, my tone challenging. I gripped my backpack tighter. “So what do you believe in?”
She looked at me sharply, as if surprised at the comeback. I was surprised too, mainly because I really wanted to know her answer.
She swiveled her head away. After another minute of staring out at the Bells, she spoke again, softly. “I believe we were put on this earth to fight.”