Chapter 21 #4
David took the bag, hesitation plain on his face. “Dad doesn’t like me going through his stuff, so I…”
He trailed off and opened the bag, drawing out a few items—a pocket Bible, a vehicle registration tag, a folding knife. He took out the portfolio and turned it over, but didn’t open it.
“I mean, I can tell you these are his. He doesn’t keep a lot of stuff in the truck. I see his wallet’s not here, but he always kept that in his pocket, even when he was driving.”
“What about this?” Broder tapped the portfolio. “Anything important?”
“This is where he stores all his, like, documents and stuff, but he keeps it private. I don’t know what’s in here. I don’t even think Mom does.”
For a moment, I was faint with relief, and the scene swam before my eyes: he didn’t know about the deed. Maybe no one else did. Maybe the sanctuary was safe.
And yet, all I could see in David’s face was his father, and something deep in the marrow of my bones told me the threat was not over.
“Why don’t you take a look through it? You never know, maybe something will jump out at you.”
Broder walked away, leaving David with the portfolio. I glanced over my shoulder and saw Rachel wasn’t even visible from here, the butt end of one of the police SUVs blocking the view. This was my chance.
Despite the lingering clouds and occasional drops of rain, the unseasonably warm temperatures that plagued this autumn had returned, and David’s arm was slick when I reached out to touch him. He jumped, tucking the portfolio tightly to his side and whirling to face me.
“I’m sorry—I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“Oh, hi, Tess. You didn’t. I just—I don’t know.”
He seemed to bite through the end of each word, and the hard lines around his mouth only deepened. I felt my own ire rise in response and grasped for softness, for sweetness.
“How are you holding up?” I asked.
“We’re okay. I’m sure there’s an explanation.”
“Yeah, absolutely. I’m sorry we didn’t find any sign of him.”
He glanced around, as if realizing only now why I was there. “Oh, you were in the search party?”
“Yeah. With the washout, I’m not surprised we didn’t find anything.” I gestured at the truck. “My best guess is he bumped his head when he hit the tree, then went back out to the road and flagged down some help.”
“Hmm.” He glanced down at the portfolio. “Why wouldn’t he have called, then?”
“Did he leave his phone at home?”
David held up the polyurethane bag and shook it. “Nope—right here.”
“Well, you know, if he hit his head, he probably wasn’t thinking clearly. And hospitals take head injuries seriously even if they’re minor.”
“Yeah. Chief Broder told Mom you’re the last person he can find who saw him.”
I met his gaze. Despite his stone-faced expression, there was desperation in his eyes.
“I saw him the day before yesterday,” I said. “He seemed fine.”
“He came to the sanctuary?”
“He came to the gate.”
“Why? What did he say?”
“Can’t you guess?”
He looked away. “I guess I’m not surprised. He talked to me about it—I guess it was the night before. His vision for it. How important it was to him.”
I felt my heart going cold in my chest. But then he gave a small smile, the lines around his mouth softening, and shook his head. “I think it’s crazy. I couldn’t say that to him, though.”
“Get away from him!”
Rachel’s shriek was so loud and strident that I nearly choked on my own inhale. I turned in time to see her storming at me, eyes bulging and sweat gleaming on her large forehead. She raised her hands to shove me away from her son.
She came so fast I only had time to react, not to think, not to mitigate my response.
Perhaps if I’d allowed her to push me, perhaps if I’d taken the impact and fallen back, it would have helped.
But I was not in the habit of allowing people to push me, and my instinct was to brush her aside.
Her momentum made her stumble, and she screamed as she did, as if I’d seized her by the back of the neck and driven her to the ground.
Everyone had already turned to look, but they lurched forward now, and suddenly half a dozen cops were holding out steadying hands.
David rushed forward, gathering his mother into a protective embrace, and she sagged in his arms and wailed.
He had been right there—he’d seen exactly what happened, and yet he glared at me.
“I didn’t—”
“Tess!” came Christine’s voice, loud and authoritative. “You should go.”
Evelyn was just over her shoulder, her mouth pulled into the same self-righteous pucker I’d seen at the library. I hated her the most in that moment—more than Rachel and more than Broder, who was stepping forward as if he wasn’t sure he would allow me to leave.
“Just go,” David snarled at me over his mother’s caterwauling. “You’ve done enough.”
I went. The other volunteers parted for me as if I were a leper. Christine stared at her feet as I passed, Max tugging at her elbow as if he didn’t understand what was happening. Evelyn was whispering furiously to Georgie, who watched me as I went.
This is how it starts, my mother’s voice whispered.
Then I will finish it.