Chapter 28 #2
We’ve already made nine stops. Four houses had visits from kind neighbors with snowblowers, leaving me to shovel paths to five front doors so Sarah could politely chat with the local elderly before handing off their meals. They’ve all greeted her with a smile and me with wary curiosity.
Every one of them has mentioned that Cold River Post article.
“No, this is going to take until well after lunch.” Sarah’s still arguing with Jon while I crank up the heat. “Are you nuts? I am not bringing Carson with us!”
I shake my head to second that idea before turning into the gas station.
She doesn’t acknowledge me, too busy glowering at the dashboard.
“So, ask my mother to watch Egan for an hour. Or, hey, crazy idea, take him with you. You can handle it. I have complete faith in you.” She ends the call.
“I swear to God, if I didn’t love him so much, I would murder him!
” She smooths her palm over her rapidly growing belly.
“And of course, Jon won’t get any details from the principal.
He’ll just nod and agree and expect me to figure it all out later. ”
“Take a breath or two. You need to keep those things cookin’ inside you till spring.”
She follows my advice, inhaling deeply.
I pull up to a pump and cut the engine. “What’s going on with Carson?”
“They’ve suspended him for throwing a snowball.”
My eyebrows pop as I give my sister an “Are you kidding me?” look. “For a snowball?”
“Tightly packed, at another boy’s face, close range. There was blood,” she elaborates.
“Well, that changes things,” I concede.
“It’s not the first time. There’s usually a reason. I’ll bet it was that little shit, Alex Tippins. He’s always saying things about our family to rile Carson up.”
A memory strikes me then. “Remember when Jay made snowballs and sprayed water on them so they’d harden?” A few fine layers of mist, patience, and freezing temperatures made those things deadly.
“And then he threw one at the Shepherds’ truck as they were driving by?
Dented the hell out of it. Vince was so startled, he almost went into the ditch.
Yeah, I remember. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Dad so angry.
” She shakes her head. “Sometimes Carson reminds me of how Jay was at this age. He doesn’t think or care about consequences. ”
I sense Sarah’s mood darkening as her worry grows. “Do you want to go to the school after we’ve filled up?” She’s not going to be able to focus on much of anything else.
She considers it a beat. “It’s too far to drive him all the way home and then come back. We’d have to bring him with us.”
“He can squeeze up here. And I’ve got rope and a gag to keep him quiet.”
She bursts with laughter. “God, why did I think this was a good idea?” She gestures at her stomach. “I’m forty years old, I’m exhausted, and my husband is useless when it comes to raising the five children we already have.”
“He knows his bison, though.”
“They can have his offspring from now on.” She hands me the Landry corporate credit card before reaching for her phone, I assume, to tell Jon to stay put.
I slide out of the driver’s side and set to filling the tank, the cold metal of the pump biting into my bare hands.
This is the most time Sarah and I have spent together since I was released, and the first time it’s been just the two of us.
We’re not much closer than strangers anymore, even though we share so much.
But slowly, we’re getting to know each other again.
These versions of us. Like, Sarah’s learning quickly that I don’t give a shit about gossip, I don’t talk much, and I reveal even less, much to her annoyance.
I’m learning that Sarah will complain about Jon’s lack of child-rearing abilities, but she thrives on being in the thick of everything where her children are involved.
She complains that she’s exhausted, and yet she’s called my mom three times since we left with last-minute ideas to boost sales around the holidays—sleigh rides, daytime firepits with hot chocolate—all things that add work to her own plate.
For the first time in forever, I feel hope for my sister and me to repair what I broke.
“Fancy meetin’ you here.”
My body instantly tenses as Hank Murphy appears.
There goes a good morning …
Strolling in, he leans against the back of our truck, peeling the cellophane wrap off a pack of cigarettes before letting it fall to the ground. “Thought any more about my question?”
I’m on high alert. Is he alone? I scan the parking lot, noting a red tow truck on the far end and the familiar face sitting in the driver’s seat. It’s the guy from the arena that night, Ian’s son. Is this a coincidence or were they following us?
“I told you already. I don’t have a clue what you’re looking for. Now get the fuck off my truck.”
“Sure you do. You were his kid brother. He talked about you nonstop.” He lights his cigarette, despite the sign on the post two feet from his greasy head strictly forbidding it. “You just have to think hard enough. Come on … Jay must have had a favorite spot, a place he’d hang.”
The pump reads fifty dollars. This truck needs a lot more to fill, but I cut the flowing gas early, intent on getting out of here before this clown says something I can’t ignore or blows us all up.
“If you help us find it, there’s a piece for you. You can have Jay’s share.”
As if I’d ever touch anything Ian and Jay had their dirty hands in. “Why don’t you tell me exactly what it is I should be looking for?”
Hank grins, showing off crooked, stained teeth. “You’ll know when you find it. And I’ll bet you’ve been lookin’, haven’t you? Working out there, all day every day. It’s gotta be somewhere on that big ol’ ranch of yours, right?”
My eyes narrow. Is that where he thinks Ian and Jay hid this secret stash? On my family’s property?
“Everything good here?” Sarah calls. She’s climbed out on her side, her stony glare settled on Hank.
“Sarah, isn’t it?” Hank’s eyes twinkle at her glower.
My teeth grind at the sound of her name in his mouth. “All good. We’re leaving now.” I screw the cap on. “Get back inside where it’s warm.”
“Sure. After you,” comes her crisp response, telling me she’s not going anywhere. “What do you want, Hank?”
“Just catching up with your little brother.”
“We are not catching up. I don’t fucking know you. I don’t like you.” And the last thing I want is for anyone to think otherwise.
“You knew my brother, though.” Hank takes a casual drag off his cigarette. “Terrible thing that happened to that girl. Holly.”
I wait impatiently for the receipt, not appreciating the subject change. “If you were involved, the cops’ll figure it out sooner or later.”
“Funny you say that, seeing as how many people think you had something to do with it.” He smiles. “Don’t think that pretty neighbor of yours is gonna be able to save you from this one. And she is a pretty thing.” He adds after a beat. “So is her daughter.”
Rage that was simmering deep inside erupts. I know a reaction is what he’s aiming for. I need to get out of here before he succeeds. The thin strip of paper finally appears. I snatch it from the machine. “Stay the fuck away from me, if you know what’s good for you.”
“You’re not gonna lay a finger on me, ’cause if you do, you’ll end up back in that hellhole.”
I step in close, letting my chest bump against his as I lean in and whisper, “If you threaten anyone I love again, I will gladly go back to hell, and I’ll take you with me.”
“Logan!” Sarah barks, a touch of hysteria in her voice. “Let’s go!”
Hank backs up, sending a cagey glance Sarah’s way. “Get what belongs to me, and you’ll never hear from me again.”
Back in the driver’s seat, I watch from the side-view mirror as Hank saunters to the tow truck, like it’s a balmy summer day. Meanwhile, my hands are shaking.
“What was that about?” Sarah asks, accusation in her tone. “What do you have that belongs to Hank Murphy? Who is he threatening? What the fuck is going on!”
“I don’t have anything!” I squeeze my eyes shut. But now, there’s no way I can keep this from her. With a heavy sigh of resignation, I start the truck. “Which way to the school?”
Sarah groans at the lengthy driveway ahead of us. “I give up.”
The little white bungalow sits at the end of a dead-end street next to a flat, open field where wind is free to barrel through. Some of these snowdrifts must be close to three feet high, only slightly higher than the wall of snow the plows left at the end of the driveway.
“Are we sure this woman’s alive?” Because this place hasn’t seen a shovel yet this season.
“She was as of Monday, when she called in the order,” Sarah mutters.
“Mrs. Powell’s husband died last year, and she’s on a tight budget.
Mom gives her a ‘special seniors discount.’” Sarah air-quotes with her fingers.
“Her son lives in Sudbury and has been trying to get her to move into an old-age home there, but she refuses to leave this place. He comes to help when he can, but it’s three hours away on a good day. ”
“And her neighbors?”
“She keeps telling them that Christopher is coming.”
“Can we go home?” Carson whines, sandwiched between us. He hasn’t been too annoying. Yet.
“Not until we get Mrs. Powell’s food to her.” Sarah tugs on her hat with a grimace, reaching for her door handle. “Let’s get this over with.”
“Stop.” The last thing I need is my pregnant sister falling in a snowbank. “Stay here until I deal with this. Okay?”
She meets my gaze with a mixture of gratitude and worry, and I know it has nothing to do with the snowy driveway and everything to do with the Coles Notes version of Hank Murphy’s quest that I dumped on her in the six-minute drive between the gas station and the elementary school.
“Carson, get your gloves on. You’re helping me.”
“But it’s cold,” he whines.
“Not any colder than it was at morning recess. You sure liked the snow then, huh?” I give him a warning look.