Authors: Ronica Black
She laughed. The light filtering in from the morning sun reflected off her wedding band, drawing her focus away from her parents and onto her fragile marriage. Eyeing the ring, she picked it up and examined it thoughtfully, then returned it to the jewelry bowl on the counter. It clanged around the bowl, ringing in her newfound liberty, then settled in silence in the center. Rubbing her bare finger, she examined it to make sure there were no marks or tan lines. She hadn’t worn the ring for a couple of weeks and yet the bare skin felt soft and smooth, considerably lighter at the absence of the platinum and the ungodly sized diamond. With the first positive feeling of the morning, she smiled and decided to focus on getting ready for the day.
She started the shower and stepped in, letting the hot water wash away the remnants of the nightmare and the negative thoughts that had accompanied it. Patricia was to pick her up at ten o’clock after a meeting with all the other detectives at the station. Erin could’ve attended, but her sergeant knew she had preparations to see to. After she dressed, she busied herself with what was left of her packing.
Seeing her large duffel bag next to the front door gave her a sense of freedom. She would need to find her own place soon, especially since she and Mark had plans to sell the house. He hadn’t been to keen on the idea at first, sounding like he was actually attached to their large, empty home in some way. She didn’t understand how he could be, having spent so little time there.
Restlessly, she wandered into the kitchen and opened the stainless-steel fridge. She wasn’t much of a breakfast person but she still had an hour left to kill, so she pulled out a cold Diet Pepsi, popped the top, and leafed through the mail as she sipped.
She stopped leafing when she came upon Mark’s credit card statement. She didn’t usually pay it any mind, having seen its contents before. But she was finally tired of ignoring and pretending, the absence of her wedding band insisting upon an honest assessment of her life. She tore open the envelope and pulled out the folded papers. Strangely, Mark had never had the statements sent to his office. It was as if he made no effort to hide his extramarital activities. He knew she opened most of the mail, although had she ever questioned any of the charges, he could easily have said he was entertaining a client.
She read through this month’s statement feeling fiercely independent and ready to move on alone. The majority of the charges were from Austin, and that didn’t surprise her because they almost always were. But then she came across some charges that completely threw her. They were from baby boutiques, and some were from a baby furniture outlet. She stopped breathing and tried to make sense of what she was seeing. Maybe a client of his was having a baby and he wanted to buy them a nice gift.
The total was almost two thousand dollars. That was one hell of a shower gift. She shook her head and dropped the papers onto the counter. Mark and his mistress were having a baby.
She covered her mouth and walked like a zombie to the couch. She sat down and stared straight ahead. She wanted to cry but she couldn’t. She wanted to scream but she couldn’t. All she could do was sit and stare. Time passed; she didn’t know how much. The doorbell rang but she didn’t move. It rang again after a few minutes and she finally rose to answer it.
The sun pierced her eyes.
Patricia Henderson stood on the front step. Her smile of greeting faded as quickly as it had formed. “You okay? You look like you just saw a ghost.”
Erin laughed a little at the statement, wishing a ghost was all that she had seen. “I’m fine. Let’s get the hell out of here.” She picked up her bag and walked outside.
Patricia eyed her carefully, closing the door behind them. “Okay,” she said as they headed off to her Blazer.
They rode in silence with Patricia looking over every once in a while, concern evident in the wrinkle of her brow. “Listen, Mac. If there’s anything you ever need to talk about, I’m here for you,” she said eventually.
“He got her pregnant.” Erin kept her gaze fixed on the road ahead.
“What? Who?” Patricia was completely confused by the revelation, judging by her strained voice.
“Mark.”
Patricia jerked her head around and looked at her. “He got someone pregnant?”
“Yes. His mistress in Austin,” Erin said flatly.
Patricia refocused on the road ahead. “How did you find out?”
“His credit card statement.” This time Erin managed to pry her eyes away from the road to look directly at Patricia. “Usually, he spends money on fancy restaurants and flowers and expensive gifts for her. But this time he spent close to two thousand dollars on baby furniture and accessories.”
“You’re upset,” Patricia prompted gently.
“I’m not sure what I am.” Erin turned toward the road once more, not wanting to think, just wanting to exist. Sometimes it was easier to just zone out and concentrate on other things. Little things, even. She had briefly studied Buddhism, and it had encouraged her to focus on the tiniest of details and that was what she needed to do now.
Looking out the window, she took in her surroundings. They were in an upper-class neighborhood in the center of the city. The homes were older but very well kept, with most of the homeowners coming from old money. Erin focused on the properties, their well-manicured lawns, and tried to imagine the people that lived in each house. Who were they? How long had they lived there? What did they enjoy doing from day to day? Perhaps it was an older couple. Retired. Yes, they were still in love and they led a peaceful, loving life together in their well-to-do home.
Patricia pulled up in front of one of the smaller places and put the truck in park, summoning Erin back from the deep recesses of her mind. Climbing out of the vehicle, she examined the house before her. It was painted off-white, contrasting nicely with the red-tiled roof. The yard was lush, with green grass and palm trees. A white Honda Accord sat in the driveway. It looked fairly new and she read the tags, knowing that if she entered them into the police database, Katherine Chandler’s name would appear.
The sun was warm and mesmerizing and Erin allowed it to massage her bare arms. Turning back to the Blazer, she retrieved her bag and followed Patricia inside, disappointed in having to leave the comforting heat.
The home they stepped into was cool, and she noticed right away that it was furnished tastefully and expensively, with white carpet covering the floors. She immediately became dirt conscious at the sight of the pale room and slipped off her sneakers.
“You don’t have to do that here,” Patricia said.
Erin held up her hand in protest. “Yes, I do. If I get that carpet dirty, I’ll go insane.”.
Patricia shrugged and pulled off her boots.
“Your socks are very white.” Erin said, looking appreciatively at her companion’s feet. “Some people’s aren’t.”
Patricia eyed her carefully. “Huh?”
“Sorry, I have this thing about white socks.” Erin knew she must sound ridiculous, and she clasped her forehead in disgust. “I know it’s weird and people have teased me about it for years, but I can’t stand dirty or dingy-looking socks.”
“Uh-huh, so I gather.” Patricia stared. “Maybe we should talk about putting this thing with Adams off until next weekend.”
Catching the concern on Patricia’s face, Erin knew she needed to reassure her, and fast. “I’m fine, really I am.”
“Even with all that’s going on in your personal life? You need time to deal with it, Mac. You’re standing here staring at my feet, for God’s sake.”
Erin walked over to the couch and plopped down. “Everyone goes through hard times. Even you. And I don’t know about you, but the best way for me to deal with them sometimes is to compartmentalize.”
“I can see that. But—”
“I need this assignment, Patricia,” Erin interrupted. “I need to be able to tuck my problems away for the time being and focus on Adams. Haven’t you ever needed something like that? To help you through a bad time in your life?”
Patricia’s eyes locked with hers. “I know what you mean. I’ve written some of my best stuff during the worst periods of my life. But this isn’t the same thing as writing a novel. If I even for a second think you’re unstable or in over your head, I’ll pull the plug.”
Erin grinned, relief washing over her. “Deal.” It was time to move on to a lighter subject. “This place is great.” She looked around the spacious interior.
“It was my aunt’s home.” Patricia hoisted Erin’s duffel bag.
“Your aunt?” Erin followed her down the hallway. “Is she…”
“Dead?” Patricia set the bag down in the center of the master bedroom and shoved her hands in her pockets. “Yes, she passed away last year.”
“I’m sorry.” Erin hoped she wouldn’t be sleeping in a dead woman’s bed. The thought sent chills up her spine.
“It’s okay.” Patricia followed her gaze to the bed. “Some of the furniture in the house has been replaced. Including the bed.”
Erin breathed a little easier at hearing the news. “She didn’t die here, did she?”
“You mean in the house? No. In fact, she hardly spent any time here at all. She spent winters here in Valle Luna and the rest of the time she was back east or traveling the world.”
Erin walked over to the bed and sat down. It was soft yet supportive, and she lay back and spread out her arms, trying to shed some of the tension she’d built up that morning.
“You think you’ll be okay staying here?” Patricia fidgeted with a lamp. Erin had the impression the detective was avoiding looking at her sprawled on the bed.
“Yeah, I’ll be okay. It’s a nice home, comfortable and cozy.” She didn’t want to talk about herself or her feelings anymore. “Isn’t it dangerous, to be so intertwined in the investigation? You know, to have me here living in a relative’s house.”
“No, we were careful. Very careful.” Patricia shifted her weight from foot to foot.
“Were you close to your aunt?”
“Not really. She never could understand why I didn’t just find myself a man and settle down.” Patricia said the last bit in a Southern accent, no doubt a parody of her aunt.
“Did you tell her why?” Erin sat up and patted the bed for Patricia to join her.
“Yes.” Patricia sat down next to her, but not too close.
“And she still didn’t understand?”
“She was old and set in her ways. And she expected me to be able to ignore my attraction to women and marry a man.”
“Were you ever with a man?” Erin was curious about Patricia’s past lovers, no matter who they might have been.
“No!” Patricia flopped back on the bed. “Even if I had tried, I think I would’ve thrown up from the kissing alone.”
They both laughed and stared up at the revolving ceiling fan.
“They’re a lot rougher than a woman. It’s the facial hair, I think,” Erin said, having only kissed one woman in her lifetime, but the experience had been earth shattering and very different from a man.
“No, it’s a lot more than the facial hair. They always try to stick their tongue down your throat right away.”
“How would you know!”
“Hey, I had horrible high school dates too.” Patricia sighed. “God, I hated high school. It never failed, every date I went on the guy always slimed my face with a wet kiss and attempted a rough grope of my breast.” She shivered and then laughed. “Except for Barry. Barry could kiss.”
“So what happened with Barry? Did it get hot and heavy?” Resting her head in her hand, Erin rolled onto her side to face Patricia.
“No, we never went past kissing. He was the only guy that kissed soft and slow. And we were content with kissing, never anything more.”
“Why?”
Patricia laughed. “Probably because we were both really gay.”
“Get out! Him too?”
“Oh yeah. He was more feminine than I was.” She folded her arms back behind her head. “He was a great guy. Went to prom together and everything.”
“Whatever happened to him? Are you still in touch?”
“No, we lost touch after high school. But I heard he’s out and proud, living in California.”
Erin lay in silence for a moment, resisting the urge to reach out and touch Patricia’s smooth cheek. “What about now, do you have any close friends?”
Abruptly, Patricia sat up and rubbed her hands on her knees. “I should get going, Mac. I still have a lot things to go over and I know you do too.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you.” She had gone too far with the questioning and she regretted doing so.
“No offense taken. Really. You gonna be okay alone here today?”
Erin walked with her to the front door. “Yes, fine. I think I’ll start in on some of your books.”
Patricia toyed with her car keys. “Okay, well I’ll see you later.” She opened the door and walked out.
*
For a few moments Erin stood, leaning her back against the door, then she decided it was time for a drink. Searching the kitchen, she found a bottle of Jack Daniel’s and a six-pack of Coke. The house was completely stocked and had everything she might need. She reminded herself that she needed to unpack the photos she had brought. Pictures of her from childhood, as well as meaningless photos of people she didn’t know. All of it to help make this home seem like it was really hers.