Not What She Seems: A Novel, page 20
Faye sighed. “This again. I explained how I had the clock. I don’t know how it got there.”
“Right.” I made a face. “You don’t know how it got in your locked office that only you have the key to.”
She made a noise. “Apparently not.”
“What?” The room was becoming warm. I uncomfortably shifted in my seat, not liking where this was going.
“Faye came in to inform us that her Taser was missing from her office after the charity dinner she and your mother hosted at the Manor. They work together, Jac, and honestly, is this behavior becoming of a young lady?”
If we were in one of those cartoons I grew up watching, like the Road Runner and Wile E. Coyote, my bottom jaw would have dropped to the floor in astonishment with my eyes bugging out of my head. This couldn’t be happening. This couldn’t be happening. I had been so sure. So confident the chief would want to use this Taser to find concrete proof against Faye, out of respect for my grandfather.
Helplessness wrapped its cold, unforgiving fingers around me. I was locked in a box with no way out of it. The box was Faye Arden.
My mouth opened to speak, but the words died in it. I looked at the two of them, one angry and disappointed, the other working valiantly to hide how happy she was that she was once again playing everyone against me.
Faye’s voice quivered. “I don’t want to press charges. Her family has been through enough, and I’m sure it’s not any easier with Jac’s history here in town and that whole horrible tragedy with her father.”
“Now wait a damn minute!” Sudden molten rage elevated my voice and hardened my tone. In no way would I stand for her referring to my father in any capacity. I pointed at her, shaking violently as I held on to the last vestiges of restraint. “Don’t you dare bring up shit you don’t know about.”
I could kill her where she sat. I could—
Linwood interjected, “Jac, Jac, calm down.”
“Don’t tell me to calm down. Don’t have me sit here and hear this woman tell me about something she doesn’t know a goddamn thing about, that happened before she was even a thought in this town.”
Faye’s brows furrowed. “But isn’t that what you’re doing, Jac? Aren’t you running around blaming me for something tragic that happened when you weren’t here?” She appealed to my father’s old friend. “You see what I mean, Chief Linwood? Why I’m concerned? This is what I’m trying to avoid. This—this—this inexplicable animosity she has toward me. I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve it. And to be honest, I’m beginning to feel unsafe.” She shuddered. “Her anger makes me feel unsafe. I’m scared of it.”
And there it was.
I couldn’t hold in the bark of laughter. The “angry Black woman” label, always used to deny us our power and voice. It was so demeaning, so utterly ridiculous, that all I could do was laugh.
“You!” I balked. The audacity was too much to bear. “You feel unsafe? You?”
Chief Linwood was out of his seat.
Faye implored him with big wide eyes like she was all sweet and innocent. She wrung her hands like she was lamenting bad fortune. Her voice trembled. “That’s slander, Chief, what she said. That’s a lawsuit if she doesn’t stop, and bad press to the department for letting her harass me the way she is. And if this gets out to the media when we’re opening Moor Manor to the public soon, the mayor won’t stand for it.”
“Then bring it,” I shot back, not caring that I was practically screeching in the same office where I had found so much comfort when my dad was chief. I couldn’t believe that this room, which had always been my safe place, was now my nightmare.
“Bring your lawsuit, you bitch.” I was sure the people outside could hear us. But I didn’t care. I’d had enough of this shit—hers and his.
“That’s enough, Jac!” Chief Linwood bellowed. “I can’t . . . What has gotten into you?”
Faye’s hands flew to her mouth. Her eyes filled with tears—big, thick, Emmy-worthy tears—as she volleyed between staring at me, then Linwood.
If I didn’t know her, the real Faye, who wasn’t so sweet and beguiling when eyes weren’t on her, I would have thought the way she was looking at me, wide eyed and so persecuted, was for real. I would have dropped all defenses and made excuses and apologies for her, like Linwood was doing, to stop her white-lady tears. I knew what Faye was doing, and yet she was so convincing that every word she said—every tear that dripped, landing in splashes on her fuchsia-colored skirt—confused me and made me hate her even more.
She calmed herself down, vacillating between the honey and a trembling flower. It sickened me. What was even more sickening was that the chief was buying the whole act.
“I don’t want to compound it. I just want Jac to stay away from me. I think she has an unhealthy interest in me. Nothing sexual, mind you . . .”
I barked out a laugh. It was all I could do to withstand this complete and utter bullshit.
“No,” Faye said demurely, her voice coaxing and tricking the chief into thinking this was her true self. “I don’t know what it is. But it’s got to stop, or I’ll be forced to involve Mayor Tate and take more drastic measures to be left alone.” She added a little sniffle, dabbing at her eyes to drive her act home.
The whole scene was un-fucking-believable. Apparently, in everyone’s eyes—even maybe my best friend’s—I was unbelievable too. But then Chief Linwood introduced the final humiliating blow—a body slam.
“Don’t you have something to return to her? No charges. No more to make of this. Just return her property.”
If I wasn’t seated, I would have fallen from the blow.
“No charges if she promises to stay away from me. Angela and Penelope are such lovely people. I have heard so much about the former chief that I can’t believe she’s a part of . . .”
Chief Linwood cleared his throat, discomfort sliding over his shining brown face and Magnum, PI mustache I used to find so funny but now thought was hateful. And stupid.
Faye stopped herself short, likely knowing she was about to lay it on too thick.
I clutched my bag to my body, trying to protect myself from these people. Chief Linwood pushing the Taser back toward me, imploring me with his eyes to hand it over to Faye. Faye’s mouth twitching as she fought to keep from reveling in my misery.
I waited another beat. And then another, both sets of their eyes on me—waiting, waiting, waiting.
Chief Linwood’s voice was low. Heavy. “Go on, Jac.”
Waiting, waiting, waiting. I didn’t want to. I locked eyes with my father’s friend, begging him not to make me do this. Don’t make me supplicate this mother. Fucking. Woman.
He prodded me along with a head nod, mouthing Please. Like I was making things hard for him.
I threw my cross-body bag to the floor, grabbed the Taser from the desk, and whipped my arm in Faye’s direction, the cool, hard plastic in my hand. I never took my eyes off the chief.
The damn woman, like she was some kind of regal queen awaiting her scepter, swept her hand out and held it in front of me, palm up, expectantly.
I wanted to vomit on that fucking hand.
Without looking at her, refusing to ever give her a damn thing, determined with the last thread of my dignity, I slammed the Taser back on Chief Linwood’s cluttered desk.
I snapped my head in Faye’s direction, throwing all caution to the wind, saying to her while still training my gaze on him, “Don’t think this is over. Not by a long shot.”
I stormed out of the chief’s office, the door slamming against the wall. I didn’t look at anyone as I passed all the staring eyes. All the people in black-and-gold uniforms and civilians alike, looking at me with contempt over the scene their dead Chief Brodie’s daughter had made. To them, I was a disgrace to his honor and the office he’d once held. I saw Sawyer and the horror on her face at my epic fail. Her look alone was enough to last a lifetime.
26
Gotchu911: Even if the chief believed u, he can’t use the taser.
JrD: Why not? He can run tests to match it to the marks on my granddad
PI Guy 39: Doesn’t work that way. Wud be inadmissible in court
Gotchu911: Yeah and something I heard on Judge Judy once. Gotta have clean hands.
JrD: ???
GirlFriday022: Means you can’t have done a wrong to fix a wrong. You can’t commit a crime to show someone has committed one too.
Gotchu911: Yeah, you can’t have any dirt on u and as bad ass as it was to break into her office, that’s stealing
JrD: So what does this mean?
BlueLineCopper: Means you’re up shit’s creek. You’re totally in her line of fire now that you went in her territory and tried to take her down. You’re a problem now.
PI Guy 39: Watch your back, JrD
Mrs. CrimeofPassion: UR playing an ugly game of chicken, girl
I pulled into the parking lot of Edgemont Road’s Dollar General, several blocks from the police station, with my brain feeling like it was about to explode, mulling over my exchange with the Armchairs earlier that day. The script, the scenario, the Taser. Nothing had gone as I’d envisioned, and suddenly I was feeling alone. The only other person who I could have talked to, who would have understood, was gone, and I was left with judgment and, well, persecution from nearly all sides.
Maybe I’d been going about it all wrong. Maybe the key was to be more like Granddad, who knew about solving cases, while I’d mostly been along for the ride. With nowhere else to turn to, I’d gone to the one place that might take me seriously. I’d pulled out my phone, logged in to the site, gone to the Armchair Detectives. Disappointment and shame guided my thumbs as they clumsily typed out a message. I reintroduced myself and made sure to thank them again for their sentiments before launching into my tirade. I’d closed with an update of my most recent, spectacular failure.
“Goddamnit!” I pounded the steering wheel several times, my anxiety and outrage at level ten. I sucked in quick spurts of air, unable to get enough, my chest feeling as if it were about to explode.
I tossed the phone in the passenger seat, letting out a yell. “Goddamnit!”
All the pent-up frustration and anger and grief and humiliation geysered from me. “Goddamnit!” I said repeatedly. How she’d managed to get the drop on me was beyond my understanding. With the dinner and guests and cleanup, I had figured she’d be too busy to notice that anything in her office was missing. In the chaos of party hostessing, why would she need the Taser or the extra remote?
It was when everything was out, when nothing but expelled carbon dioxide filled the car, that I remembered. I was supposed to return the remote to Mia this morning, and in my rush to get to the station first thing, I’d forgotten. I’d left Mia hanging all morning, and she was probably freaking out.
“FUCK ME!” I let out another scream, ignoring the startled mother and small child rushing their cart to a red Dodge minivan. I had to get Mia the remote before Faye realized it was missing. She could be on the way to the Manor this very moment to find out how I’d gotten to the Taser I’d shamefully had to return to her.
I pulled out of the parking lot, making a U-turn to rush to Moor Manor. “Meet me to get the remote,” I said into the talk-to-text feature in my phone’s Messages app. “So sorry. I’m coming now.”
The sun was already cresting in its ascent to high noon, hanging brightly above the trees lining the one-lane road to Moor Manor, when I finally arrived. I parked where I thought Faye couldn’t see me and got out, clutching the circular remote in my hands. Mia was already waiting for me, moving side to side nervously.
“I’m so sorry. So sorry,” I gushed, trying to appease the anxious girl as I shoved the plastic thing into her hands. “I should have left it somewhere in the house for you to find.”
She was near tears. “You said you’d bring it first thing. You promised.”
I nodded. “I know, I know. I’m so sorry. Today was a horrible day.” I shook my head. “No excuse. Take it, quickly, before she comes back. Go now. Yell at me later.”
I took her by the shoulder, turning her around and propelling her up the shortcut that ran diagonally from the road to the house. I could hear her thundering through the trees. I waited a couple of beats. It didn’t feel right to head back to the house and leave Mia like this. What if Faye returned before Mia had a chance to put the remote back? I was already in the doghouse. What did it matter if I got into more trouble by being at the Manor when I should have left Faye alone?
The decision made, I hopped in my car and drove the short distance up the road until it opened up to the sprawling grounds of Moor Manor. I scanned the grounds and didn’t see any signs of Mia. She’d gotten in, I told myself, looking at the windows of the Manor facing me. It wasn’t so bright out that I couldn’t see inside from where I stood in the grounds. I tried to single out Faye’s office from memory. It looked dark and empty.
I thought I should hang around until Mia had left, just to make sure she’d gotten off okay. There was no way I was going into the Manor. Matter of fact, I didn’t want anyone to see me hanging around. The last thing I needed was to have a stalker charge added to my growing list of offenses.
One of the most popular places for us to go when we were young was to the bluff. I hadn’t been there since the night my dad fell off it. I didn’t know why, but my feet started moving toward it. Depending on your pace, it was at least a twenty-minute or so hike around the Manor and maze, which backed up to it.
My feet recalled the old paths as if they were a bicycle I hadn’t ridden in years. The wind whistled through the trees, carrying echoes of my past. My head hurt—from the day’s events or lack of eating, I wasn’t sure. Though it could’ve been because I was approaching the bluff’s edge. I stopped short of it, not wanting to go any closer. My feet were rooted to the ground and refused to take me farther.
The weather was perfectly calm. No mist or fog. No wind or rain. No night. I could see for miles, even where I stood. Nothing but endless bluish-gray skies. The memories of the night my dad died were not whole. They came in jittery patches that refused to run linearly. They came in bits of distorted pieces. Never enough to let me know what had happened in the moments between Daddy finding me and Nick in his car and me holding on to Daddy’s hand—trying to save him as he hung off the cliff—and then letting go.
I sank down to the ground, trying to recall the events, my mind racing. But every effort of mine was like grasping at smoke—the memories intangible and evaporating between my fingertips. I gave up, disheartened. Even my memories were against me. I trudged down the path, the sun overhead as I approached the Manor. The place appeared empty. There were no groundskeepers around. No cars indicating there were workers inside the house. If Mia had a car, I didn’t see it. I did see Faye’s car. The black SUV she sported around was parked where it hadn’t been before.
My car was still out of view. But what if she’d seen it? She could call the cops and say I was stalking her. I moved to get to it and get the hell out. Mia had to be gone by now, having returned the remote to its proper location. I hoped she’d made it look as if it had never been touched. She had to know to do that—she was smart, resourceful.
Something moved at the edge of my peripheral vision, and my body felt electrified, hairs standing on end. One of the angry ghosts. The murderous Caretaker. The terrors of my youth sprang up like a leak, flooding my mind with grotesque stories told by campfires at the bluff. Never at the Manor, which we were all smart enough to stay clear of. But now the Manor grounds weren’t looking as warm and welcoming as they had at the dinner last night.
I thought I heard a tiny cry. It was so faint, a whisper on the wind or in my imagination. And then a flash of movement that made my heart jump. I turned and ran toward it, suddenly close enough to the Manor to see in properly, unsure how I’d cleared the distance so fast. My car wasn’t this way—it was in the opposite direction and off the road, tucked away out of sight.
Thoughts of the car and escaping in it before I’d be forced to take a mug shot went away when I saw two figures in Faye’s office window. The light was fading fast, making it easier to see. The light in the office was not on, but something dim was illuminating them inside. Their hands moved. Faye pointing, shaking. Mia waving her hands as if to say no. The air inside that room must have been charged with tension radiating from the upstairs down to me.
What should I do? Go in there, bang on the door, and say it was me? That I’d found the remote and taken it? I could say that. I could say I’d snooped the night of the gala and found the spare in her bedroom curio cabinet. I was about to do just that when Faye’s rage unfurled like spewing lava. She reached around, grabbing something dark. It looked heavy. Mia was backing away until she was nearly out of view of the large bay window while Faye advanced on her, raising the object in her hand above her head.
Mia spun around to run, and the hand swooped down snakebite quick. So quick it was like a flurry of checkered tweed. Mia was no longer in view, but Faye was, or her arm and half her back was as she bent over. Her arm swung and hit. Swung and hit. Over and over as Faye unleashed a torrent of blows down on Mia, so many I lost count and turned away, unable to stomach watching her beat Mia to death.
I stumbled back, falling hard on my rear. My hands slammed over my mouth to stifle the scream that was about to tear through me. I needed the cops, but I valued myself.
Mia.
I wanted to curl up and die. My throat filled with a sob. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t swallow. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t force myself to look at that window again and see more of what I knew would be forever burned in my mind.
My brain began to reengage, and I fumbled with my phone, my fingers cold from the temperature and probably something else. I dialed 911.
“Come quick.” My voice sounded so trembly on the line as I tried to give the operator information. I just couldn’t answer right. “Please,” I begged. “Come. Someone’s been killed.”
When the cops arrived, a cadre of black-and-yellow cars and trucks shrilling to a stop, their blue lights whirring, they found me still seated on the ground. They rushed to me, first demanding I put my hands up, and then, when they recognized me, Patrick approached, asking if I was okay and if I’d made the call. I nodded once.
