Once Upon A Killing (A Gass County Novel Book 2) Page 9

  He rose to his feet, but was yet to get out of the booth when Peaches tossed the empty beer glass on the floor, threw a hissy fit, not only getting his but Rick’s attention, and called him all the names in the book that he had heard before. Many times before, and because of that, it didn’t really bother him that much.

  “Have a great night. No, have an awesome night.” Christine had beaten him in running away from the crime scene, and was he suspected was already in her car, rushing down the street on her way home.

  “Alright, baby. Just for your information, this is not happening again. If you want to fool around, call someone else,” Peaches voice carried across the pub and entered his mind just as he walked outside to see the tail lights of Christine’s car turn a corner and disappear.

  “Damn it,” he muttered, fumbling through his pocket for his car keys.

  Backing out of the drive way he almost bumped into a black and white cruiser, slowly rolling into the parking lot.

  “Shit, Brody, I almost backed right into you,” he cursed through the rolled down window.

  “How many beers, Wayne?” The officer in blue, and his childhood friend, called back.

  “One, Brody, only one. Can you please back up so I can get the hell out of here now? I need to go.”

  “Lady problems?”

  “Lady? What the fuck are you, like sixty-five? No, I just have to go talk to someone. A woman, sure, not a fucking lady.”

  “Heard she makes great lunches.”

  He didn’t answer, but bit the inside of his chin.

  “Can you back up, Brody?” his voice calmer. There was no point in losing his patience with Brody, that guy had the endurance of a triple marathon runner when it came to laying down the law. No matter that they’d met in preschool and stayed close ever since. If Brody wanted to ticket him, he’d do so.

  “Peaches and Cream, still in there?” Brody jerked his head towards the pub’s front door, making the hat wobble on his head.

  “Yeah,” he sighed, hating that everyone knew who he slept with.

  “Need me to drive her home?”

  “Brody, as courteous as ever. No, she didn’t have anything to drink, she can drive herself home. Can you please back up now, so I can be on my way? Come on.”

  The window slowly rolled up on the cruiser behind him, and backed out of the lot, giving him enough space to get between the other vehicles and finally be on the road. Already regretting he woke up this morning.

  A few miles down the road, on the outskirts of the city, where the fields grabbed hold of the lonesome slumbering town, a text beeped in his pocket.

  “The rumor is she might deserve someone better than you. Perhaps show her that’s incorrect. Do not text me back, I know you’re still driving. I’ll ticket you double for that. – Brody.”

  An irritated blow escaped his nose and he tossed the cell phone onto the passenger seat, just to have it slide off, land on the floor, then roll under the seat.

  “Great, just my luck today. Seems like everyone knows what’s best for me nowadays. Idiots,” he mumbled as his lights followed the slight curve in the road and turned down the eerie gravel path, leading into a cottage without lights on.

  He slowly veered his truck into the parking lot, next to Christine’s already parked vehicle, killed the engine, and stepped outside in the chill air.

  “Christine, open up.” His fist banged on the door, harder than he intended, and slowly he placed the hand back in his pocket.

  “Go home, Wayne. We’re done here. I don’t ever want to see you again. You’re an ass!”

  “Oh,” he chuckled. “You’re right on the other side of the door.” A smile crept through his voice.

  “Yes, but it’s locked, and… and… I can call Brody anytime if you try to get in.”

  “Brody. Yeah, strong, correct, officer Brody. Always at an arm’s length for women in need,” a sigh blew the cold air in front of his mouth.

  “He… he bought cookies from me today, and gave me his number in case anything would ever be a bother. So don’t try anything.” Her voice seemed calmer, the front door only a physical barrier between them.

  He wondered how she was standing in there, in her fury: hands on her hips yelling, maybe gesturing violently in the air, or maybe she was sitting down with her back against the door? His mind was imagining all different scenarios, but instead her hallway right on the other side of the door reminded him of other things: how she’d violently humped him against the wall, craving him like her last meal.

  “Are you still out there?” a small voice came from inside the house and created a smile on his lips.

  “Yes, I am.” A smiled stayed through his mumble.

  “Okay, well, I’m mad at you… and …. I… think you should leave.”

  His lungs dragged in an enormous amount of air before he spoke. “Our weekend together was so great it freaked me out. Okay? I grew up with a dad who told me I was nothing more than pure manure, and when we got along so well together you and I, I heard my dad in my head, and suddenly I felt I had to run. From you. Because you’re good, and, well, I’m nothing but shit.”

  There was no answer from inside. The watch on his arm shone brightly in the darkness surrounding him and he started counting seconds that turned into a minute, until the porch light turned on, and a faint click was heard from the door handle before she slowly opened it, and presented him the red-eyed, tear streaked face of a woman shaking her head.

  “Why the hell didn’t you tell me any of that instead of having me catch you with another woman, who by the way has the stupidest name I have ever heard?” she yelled, her disappointment souring the night.

  Those eyes. Those tears. That face. He had created them. He was the one who had caused her to have them, but for what?

  “Am I still allowed to come in?” His hand raked the hair on his face and went back to grab his neck.

  A sigh, then another, and more quietness. “I’ve been married, in a good, solid relationship, Wayne. This,” she gestured in the air, “running around not knowing things is killing me. I’m not cut out for it. I’d rather be alone than with you if you don’t like me enough.”

  “I don’t feel that way at all, Christine. I do like you. Very much. I just… messed up a little.”

  “Well, it seems like you keep repeating the same pattern, then here you are telling me all those things about you, and your honesty melts me. I can see where you’re coming from and…”

  His thumb was suddenly on her bottom lip, and it started to quiver under the touch.

  “I’m sorry, Christine. I don’t know what else to say. I’m sorry.” And then he kissed her. Not the urgent kind, but light, soft, until she almost had to second guess if it was his lips touching her mouth or the wings of a butterfly.

  “If you’re done with me, then I will promise to leave you alone. But if there is the slightest of chances you might like me still, even just a little, please let me know, and also… please let me come inside. It’s freaking cold out here.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  That night was spent sitting on opposite sides of the couch, sharing not only a bottle of wine but their pasts, their fears and dreams. It was surprising, he thought, how similar they were despite the opposite upbringings and life experiences. It might actually work, it might not fall apart, we might be able to make this work well. His churning mind had changed track, and it was an uplifting feeling. The burning knot in his stomach lessened some with each sip of wine that night, and when the morning sun illuminated the soft hills in the distance and threw shadows on the crimson walls of the living room, they’d placed their glasses on the table and rolled into each other’s arms on the couch wrapped in a warm blanket, and fallen asleep nose to nose.

  Morning had risen, but the quietness stayed in the cottage outside of town until afternoon, when a beep had woken them, and with a disoriented look, Wayne found his phone.

  “Huh.”

  “Who is it?” Not yet ready t
o welcome the day, Christine buried her face deeper into the warm shirt covering his chest, drowning in the scent that was only his. Pulling her in like a neodymium magnet.

  “Yeah, hello?” he croaked, holding the phone to his ear.

  The voice on the other end was mumbling, she noticed, then grew louder, and with that the blanket that had softened and warmed their sleep was torn away, and she was left laying on the couch alone.

  “Okay, I’ll be right there,” his breath jagged. “How many cen… Alright, I’ll be right there. Five minutes, ten tops! Bye.”

  His hand pushed the phone down into his pocket, and in a hurry he moved around the room putting on shoes, and searching for his jacket.

  “What happened?” Her hands tried to rub the sleep out of her tired eyes while she sat up at the edge of the couch, her eyes still following his hurrying move around the living room.

  “Um, Jefferson, the friend I thought might be interested in your food delivery called to say his wife is in labor. I’m the paramedic, and even though I’m off today, I know Bryce will not be too happy doing this by himself.” His hand searched under pillow of the couch and under the table for car keys before she handed them to him.

  “Do you need help? Can I do something?”

  His teeth chewed on the inside of his cheek, she noticed, and his movements stopped for a short second while he just stared at her.

  “Can you take care of their older daughter while this is going down? She’s not yet two, and they have no family in town.”

  “Absolutely, just let me throw on a pair of pants instead of pj’s and we can go.”

  Buzz.

  The phone vibrated in his pocket again. “I’ll be in the car waiting, but you have to be quick, he just texted and said they won’t make it to the hospital. Great, just great. Hurry, please!” he called while jogging down the hallway for the front door.

  As his blue truck rolled down the gravel path on the other side of town, the white farm house and its large red barn welcomed them, as well as a parked ambulance around the corner of the house. Quaint, she thought of the idyllic scenery and the calmness of the day. But the warming welcome of the home and surrounding fields and forest lessened some the moment their feet hit the gravel and the scream from inside exploded through the door that had just opened.

  “Please get the fuck in here, now!” Then it closed.

  “I take it that was Jefferson?”

  “You betcha,” Wayne breathed quickly, and took the few steps up the porch in two’s before opening the side door to let them both in.

  It was charming. Despite the screaming, it felt homier than most houses she’d been to.

  “Jefferson said their daughter Nova is upstairs in the first bedroom, still napping. Just keep her company until we’re done. Or until we can leave. Thanks!” Wayne’s head vanished around the opening to the kitchen where she happened to catch a glimpse of messy hair on a pretty blonde sitting on her knees clutching onto Jefferson’s shirt, moaning loudly into the crook of his neck. Wayne’s legs blocked the rest, but another man dressed in blue, whom she remembered seeing in the station’s break room the day of her first lunch delivery, knelt on the opposite side of the couple counting slowly up to ten.

  She walked softly up the wooden staircase along the wall of the narrow hallway, and with luck she didn’t interrupt the baby’s sleep, not that the loud noises escalating downstairs wouldn’t do the trick of waking anyone up.

  She was fortunate. The handle made a faint click as it fell into place behind her inside the room, but before she had fully closed it she could hear the woman from downstairs pleading for release through erratic sobs, while three men told her to ‘push’ in unison.

  * * *

  “The girl came out just fine and dandy, already on their way to the hospital.” The door was pushed opened and a ruffle haired Wayne stood in the doorway, looking as proud as if he was the father himself.

  “I kinda blocked most of what was going on downstairs out after you all screamed for her to push.” Her body quivered before she leaned over the crib and tucked the soft blanket around the sleeping baby some more, making sure not to make too much fuss so as not to wake Nova.“Good job, though, to all four of you. I’m not sure I would be able to make it through.”

  Her voice seemed mellow, saddened somewhat. “Do you miss it?” His words left his lips as soft as cotton until it reached her ears. He was right next to her, running his warm hand up the back of her arm until it settled on her shoulder, where his thumb painted dawdling circles until a smile gave wake on her lips.

  “Maybe sometimes,” she whispered, with tender eyes caressing the stirring creature in the crib before them.

  “You know,” he whispered, raising the hairs on her back, “it’s a great loss to the world that you can’t replicate yourself into small wonders. That’s why I’m selfish enough to say I want every drop that is left – you. It’s not every day a person gets to keep the original art piece. But I’ll hold on to it, and I’ll cherish it.”

  The blur of her eyesight evaporated and two strands of wet tears rolled down the side of her cheeks. “You’re highly valuable, and you’re mine.”

  “Thanks.” A whisper so faint she wondered if it ever left her lips floated between them, until his hands came up to cup her face, and his thumbs dried the streaks of tears.

  “It’s a wonderful moment. Let’s bring this stirring baby to meet her little baby sister.”

  She kissed him then. Inhaled as much of him as she could, and he responded with the same strength, until the space between their mouths was robbed of oxygen and their erratic breaths were interrupted by a baby’s whine from the crib.

  Chapter Sixteen

  The local hospital may have been small in size but didn’t lack any equipment, personnel, or treatment options. Not only twice, but three times, had she been approached by nurses asking if they could assist in her with anything, have her try some coffee in the waiting room, or sign up for volunteering. She felt she’d known these women for years, yet they were all new faces. Nothing like the big cities, she thought, where hospitals are more like parking structures: levels after levels of treatment and hospice, hundreds of employees, and even more patients.

  Here she’d admire the sign for the month’s employee, which was decorated with stars probably made by the staff at home during weekend hours off work, and hung up for everyone to see in the entrance hall. Homebaked cookies and freshly brewed coffee were offered in the waiting room, where no TV existed, but a radio tuned into the sports channel spread the word of the latest successes in the sport leagues, mixed with local news of weather, the value of manure, and the changing price of livestock.

  “Quaint,” she mumbled as she poured herself a cup of coffee in one of the paper cups stacked on the snack table. Whoever baked the lemon squares could work next to her side at the bakery, giving the world a heavenly taste of the tartness of the yellow fruit.

  The waiting room was empty, the radio blurting out things she knew very little of, yet she felt at home. For long she’d stayed away from small towns like these. They reminded her too much of her past, something she had been trying to forget for so long.

  Through her marriage, she’d made sure she and Will had lived as far away from her home as physically possible, and for many years she’d pushed back her past by studying hard and working even harder.

  St. Louis had made her live again, had kept her busy, helped her stay on track, and had eventually led her to Will. For so long, his presence made her forget things, hurtful things. For years they’d been wedded in bliss, been so in love, until the day he’d grown tired of repetitive colds, flu, then bronchitis and eventually sought out his doctor for the problem.

  His car had parked in the garage of their two-story condo that Thursday afternoon, which she later named ‘Troubled Thursday,’ and she’d heard him unlock the door from where she’d been standing in the kitchen, baking.

  He’d been quiet, and leaned against th
e door frame with his hands in his pocket, looking forlorn.

  “I was told I wasn’t in shape to drive myself home, but I did,” he’d said, staring at her hands drying off on a kitchen towel by the stove.

  “What are you talking about, did they give you some medicine that made you too drowsy to drive?”

  “Christine, love, I have lung cancer. The amount of metastases is high. I’ve been given a fifty percent chance for survival.” When the last of the air left him he sank to the floor burying his face in his hands.

  The months that came made her aware of hospitals of different kinds: their layout, their distance from home, what food services they had, and which treatment option would best fit Will. For long he fought, and when he stopped she tried to do it for him. In the end, it didn’t matter. One warm summer morning, just when the bright aura of the sun showed its ridge over the horizon, Will held her hand in his, whispered for closeness, then took his last breath.

  “Great news!” The door behind her swung open and, with a jump, she distanced herself from the deep memory and quickly wiped a tear before Wayne crossed the room and had her in his arms.

  “What’s great news?” she asked, relaxing back into his embrace.

  “We can finally leave and go home. I’m in dire need to change this.” His arms released their warm hold around her and with two hands he gestured to the stains on his shirt, scrunching up his face in disgust.

  “And you just hugged me with that on you? What is that… never mind, I don’t need to know,” she said, and shook her head and tossed the emptied paper cup in the trash can.

  “You don’t want to know,” he smiled then grabbed her hand in his and walked them out of the waiting room and down the corridor they’d walked up earlier, Raylyn sitting on the stretcher with the newborn girl in a soft blanket close to her chest. Jefferson carried Nova, right next to the rolling stretcher that Bryce pushed as gently as he possibly could.