Chapter 35
Blinded by the Sight and Sound
FIONA
It’s a bit before noon on Saturday when I park on the street in front of a small, single-story brick house.
There’s already a car parked in the driveway with a man who’s probably fifteen or twenty years older than me leaning against it.
He looks up from his phone when I get out of my truck and slam the door.
“Hi. Chris?” I’ve never met Chris Walker. I only spoke to him on the phone earlier this week when we arranged the time for me to come see the house, but I’m pretty sure it’s him, and not just because he’s here waiting at the appointed time. He looks like his mom. Same dark skin and light eyes.
“Yes. Fiona?” he asks as he walks toward me, extending his hand.
“Yup. Thanks for coming out here to meet me,” I say as I take it.
“No problem. Let me show you the place.”
Straight to business. I like it.
He leads me up a short staircase and unlocks the front door, gesturing for me to enter first. I step into a small living room with an arched doorway that leads to a kitchen. The floors are wood, and what I can see of the kitchen looks like something straight out of the fifties.
“The house was built in forty-nine. My grandparents owned it before my mom. It’s been in the family since it was built, otherwise I’d have sold it after my mom died.”
“I was sorry to hear about that.”
“Thanks. Anyway, all the appliances are old, but everything works. You could move in as soon as you like. Rent is sixteen-hundred, due on the first, and you’d be responsible for the utilities. Take a look around and let me know what you think. I’ll wait here.”
I nod, not bothering to waste words since he doesn’t seem like the sort to require unnecessary small talk.
The kitchen is small but bright, and there’s enough countertop space to fit a microwave and a toaster oven, which are pretty much all I ever use.
The fridge is one of those retro ones with the lever handles that sells for several thousand dollars these days.
There’s no dishwasher, which sucks, but it’s not a deal-breaker.
There’s a small yard with a firepit visible through the window above the sink, a dining room with built-in cabinets to the right, and a hallway to the left. I wander down the hallway, having already seen all there is to see of the dining room.
There are two bedrooms, both just large enough to fit a queen-sized bed, a single bathroom with a pedestal sink and a clawfoot tub that likely weighs several hundred pounds, and a small utility room containing the washer and dryer.
Quaint. That’s what people would call this place if they were generous. Tiny is what they’d call it otherwise, I muse as I spin in a circle in the second bedroom.
It’s big enough though, and it gets me out of my dad’s place, which has the added benefit of making it easier to spend time with Tre. Plus, it’s only a ten-minute drive from here to my office. I could bike it if I wanted.
Finally, I walk back to the living room. “How would you feel about a month-to-month lease—breakable with thirty days’ notice—if I paid an extra hundred dollars each month?”
Chris’s gaze goes unfocused as he mulls it over. “Sixty days,” he counters.
I take a few seconds to consider it. “If I can move in two weeks from now and you prorate my rent, you’ve got a deal,” I reply. This weekend is already halfway gone, and next is Labor Day weekend, so neither will be great for moving.
“Deal. I’ve got the paperwork in my car. We can modify the terms, and you can sign it now if you want.”
“Works for me.”
“What do you think is going to happen?” Ewan asks as more people file in and find seats.
My eyes flick to Special Agent Connor Smith, who’s against the wall near the dais.
I haven’t spoken to him since that day he showed up to talk to my dad.
Somehow though, it seems like he’s always around, and I’m not sure if he’s actually watching me, or if it just feels like it.
I let my eyes move over the rest of the room before he notices my interest.
There’s still ten minutes until the town hall starts, but the room is filling fast. Everyone wants to know what’s going on with Henley and Montank. Construction at their sites has been paused for over two weeks now, but no one seems to know what’s happening.
“No clue. Any chance you could help me move this weekend?”
“No can do, sis. I’ve got tours to guide both days.”
I fold my arms across my chest and sigh. Kelly and Tess both agreed to help. Cath is out of town though, and it’d be nice to have another couple of people.
“I can check whether anyone else is free,” Ewan volunteers.
“Not Cade.”
“Not Cade,” he agrees.
“Okay. Thanks. I’ll text you the address. Tell whoever I’ll supply beer and pizza.”
Ewan nods, and I scan the room.
“Relax,” Ewan says. “He’ll be here.”
“I know. I just…”
“You just like everything to happen on an imaginary schedule that no one else but you knows about.”
I wish I could disagree with him, but I can’t, so I settle on huffing instead, and Ewan laughs.
Another few minutes pass, and then the council members are walking onto the dais and taking their seats.
I glance to the back of the room once more, and this time Tre is leaning against the wall, near the door.
He gives me the barest nod when our eyes meet, and I remember our conversation late last night.
We were in his bed, and I was sprawled across his body. We were both still damp with sweat. ‘Don’t fuck it up,’ I said.
‘Fuck what up?’
‘Tomorrow. Don’t get kicked out of the town hall before you get them to agree to the festival.’
‘I wouldn’t… Shit,’ he muttered. ‘I would do that.’
He nods again, and I turn back to the front.
“Thank you all for coming,” Jacob says to the room. “We have a lot to cover tonight and—”
“What’s going on with Henley and Montank?” someone-not-Tre shouts.
“We’ll get to that sh—”
“No, let’s talk about it now!” someone else yells. “First you arrest one of us, then you let him go, but only after trying to violate his civil rights, and now people are saying that Henley and Montank were behind everything the entire time!”
Jacob glares at the latest speaker, his nostrils flaring and frown lines appearing between his eyebrows.
Goddamnit, I fume. If they don’t shut the fuck up, Jacob might take the city council and walk out of the room before we can even get to the festival idea.
I raise my hand, and Jacob’s entire expression softens when his eyes land on me like I’m a port in a storm.
“Yes, Dr. Carson, please go ahead,” he says, and it’s clear he’s hoping I’ll play my usual part of shoring up the council’s position.
“Thank you, Councilman Nammier.” I stand and face the room prior to continuing.
“I think we can all agree the arrest was a mistake. I don’t believe anyone would argue that.
” I pause long enough to look back at Jacob, and the expression on his face is obviously pained, but he’s smart enough to grab onto the life preserver I threw in his direction and nods in agreement.
“I’m sure everyone involved wishes they hadn’t jumped to conclusions.
And I would like answers just as much as anyone else.
However, if we all keep shouting at the council members, we’re not going to get those answers.
” I stare at the crowd for another second before turning to sit down.
“Yes. That’s exactly right, Dr. Carson. Thank you.
As I was saying. The situation with Henley and Montank is in flux, and all projects with which they are involved are paused for the foreseeable future.
At present, the courts have ordered an additional environmental impact assessment for each site, and until that’s completed, there will be no further construction.
“The council understands the anger over the arrest, but decisions like that are not within our purview,” he states, apparently deciding to throw the sheriff under the bus.
Color me not surprised.
“Having said that, we would like to issue an official apology to Mr. White for the accusations he experienced.”
My jaw doesn’t fall open at those words, but it’s a close thing, and I don’t like it at all. Jacob must be planning something. A run against the sheriff, maybe? Or possibly a run for mayor. Fuck. I don’t know which would be worse.
Jacob continues making placating apologies that mean nothing but appear to satisfy more people than I’d like, and Tre remains mercifully silent throughout.
Eventually, Jacob runs out of hot air and opens the floor for questions.
“Thank you for the apology,” Tre says before Jacob can take a breath, not giving him the opportunity to call on anyone else.
“And in the spirit of restoring some normalcy to Kalomish, I’d like to propose a Harvest Festival to take place the second weekend in October.
I’ve already begun the permitting process and have talked to potential sponsors. ”
“We can’t—” Jacob starts, but I raise my hand, and he says, “Yes, Dr. Carson?”
“I think it sounds like a great idea. It’ll go a long way in rebuilding a sense of community.”
“But the planning and organization—”
“I believe Dr. Carson just volunteered to help me with the planning and organization,” Tre asserts, and I can feel every eye in the room weighing and measuring me.
I don’t have to fake the uncertainty or the hitch in my breath as I say, “I… guess I could spare some time to help with the planning.”
In my periphery, I can see Connor’s eyes lingering on me as Jacob turns to look at the rest of the council, who mostly give some variation of a ‘sure, why not?’ shrug.
“Very well,” he says. “I’ll make some time to help, too.”
It’ll have to do. I force myself to give a polite nod when he looks at me, instead of screaming at him to sit down and shut the hell up like I want to. If Jacob wants to unknowingly have a front-row seat to the Tre and Fiona Show, well. That’s his business, and he can suffer the consequences.