My Sister's Keeper (6 page)

“
Like what?”

“
They told him he needs by-pass surgery.”

I pulled my hand from under hers and circled the bed. “Well, that doesn’t give him the right to

”

“
He’s not going to do it, Rich.”

I lowered myself back onto the bed facing her. “Why not?”

“
He’s afraid.”

“
Him? Afraid of what?”

“
Afraid he’ll die on the table.”

“
Well, that still doesn’t give him the right

”

“
Would you stop thinking about yourself for a minute? He needs your support.”

“
Yeah, right. If he’s stupid enough not to have the surgery, then he deserves what he gets.”

She rose on her elbows and glared at me. “Richie! What’s gotten into you today?”

I didn’t like the tone in my voice or the disappointment in her eyes and I certainly didn’t want to say or do anything that would drive a wedge between the two of us. “You’re right. I’m sorry.” I slid off the bed and headed for the door.

“
Richie, wait. Please don’t go yet.” Her head dropped back against the pillows. I stopped at the door and looked back. She shifted her position on the bed and I could see that it was painful. I stepped back to her side. “You okay?”

She raised again off the mattress and grimaced as she repositioned herself. “It

just hurts a little.”

“
You want something for it?”

She closed her eyes and rocked her head slowly. Her voice dropped to a whisper. “No, not yet. I don’t like to take it when I’m writing.” She squeezed her eyes shut, pressed a hand to her side, and panted.

“
You sure you’re okay?”

“
I’ve been having a lot of pain in my lower back lately. I hope it means I’ll be getting some use of my legs back.”

“
God, wouldn’t that be wonderful?”

She couldn’t hide the pain in her voice. “If I don’t have the pain to go along with it.”

I patted her arm. Seeing her in pain was hard to tolerate sometimes and I had to leave. “I’ll see you later.”

She opened her eyes and forced a smile. “Forget her age. Take that girl out again. You need a wife.”

Truth was, if I could find a wife like my sister, I’d marry her
today
—wheelchair and all.

At work, the projects were routine and uneventful

typical for a Monday, but I couldn’t get Ashleigh out of my head.
Why doesn’t she call?
I passed a mirror in the hall, stopped, and backed up.
What would a girl like that see in me?
There were dark splotches under my eyes. My skin felt tight and drawn.
My God, is that a patch of gray hair?
Where does the time go?

I wanted to call and apologize to her for last night and see if we could get her shooting scheduled, but I couldn’t find a listing for her and decided if she didn’t call, I’d knock on her door after I got home. By noon I was feeling much better. By late afternoon, more like my usual self.

When I arrived home that evening, the street was crowded with police cars and trucks. There were so many I couldn’t even tell which house was involved. I eased through all the vehicles, pulled into my garage, and let the door close the world out behind me.

I’d just poured myself a scotch when the doorbell rang. As I approached the door, I could see three men crowding the porch. Sam Jones was one of them—the gumshoe that let my sister down. I unlocked the door and pulled it open. Sam looked up. He had dark brown skin, the beak-like nose of an Indian, and a patch of white flesh that covered his right eyelid. I’d always wanted to ask about it, but it never seemed the right time.

“
How’s Martha doing these days?” he asked.

“
She seems to get a little better each day.”

“
I’m glad to hear that. Do you know a young lady by the name of Ashleigh Matthews?”

My heart dropped into my belly and I could feel the blood draining from my face. “She lives next door. Why? Has something happened?”

“
May we come in?”

8

I
LED SAM AND THE POLICEMEN into the kitchen as Sam introduced the two with him—a skinny white man named Melrose with the wide lip-less mouth of a lizard, and Crabby Staten, an older black man with gray sideburns and a thick scar across his nose. The heavy-set one, Staten, stood next to me with his arms folded like a nightclub bouncer. Lizard Lips set a black satchel on the breakfast table and stepped closer. Jones fished a small writing pad and mechanical pencil from his shirt pocket.

“
What’s going on, Sam?” I asked. “Something happen to Ashleigh?”

“
When did you see her last?” he asked, flipping through the pages of the notepad.

I felt as if all three of them were watching me a little too intensely. The muscles in my neck knotted as I considered the reaction I’d get from my answer. “Last night.” That struck a chord and all three of them shifted in unison—like dancers in a Broadway production. Jones widened his stance as he made a note on his pad. Staten adjusted his thick leather belt and Melrose raised his foot onto the bottom rung of the barstool next to me.

“
Last night?” Jones asked, his words dripping with insinuation.

“
She came over during the storm. Her power was off and she thought I might be able to get it back on…and wanted to talk about some photography she said she needed. Why? Has something happened to Ashleigh?”

Jones made another note. “Photography?”

I sighed. “Yes. She
is
okay, isn’t she, Sam?”

Staten arched his back and his leather equipment belt squeaked. “You the same Baimbridge with the place downtown?” he asked.

“
Sam? What’s going on?”

Sam hung his head. “Just answer the questions.”

“
Yes. The photography studio on Market, down near the river.”

Jones’s eyes studied me. “What time was she here, Richard?”

The room suddenly felt warm and my palms became slick. “Oh… seven-thirty or eight.”

“
How long did she stay?” Melrose asked in a thick Harkers’ Island accent—a cross between the local dialect and 17
^th
-century English. He kept flicking his tongue out the corner of his mouth like a kid at the carnival waiting in line for cotton candy.

“
She was here...half an hour?”

Detective Jones rubbed a finger over his white patch. “Do you normally discuss business with customers in your home?”

“
Well…no. Not
normally
.”

“
Did she seem
upset
in any way?” Staten asked, pressing his thumbs into his back and stretching up on his toes. The questions were coming faster now, as if they had a routine.

“
Upset?” I thought back. She had seemed a little edgy. “No, not especially. She seemed to be afraid of the storm…and her power was off. Would you gentlemen like to sit down?”

Detective Jones continued without looking up from his pad. “Did she say anything that might lead you to believe that someone was threatening her?”

Threatening her?
I dropped onto the barstool behind me. “What’s going on here, Sam?”

He still looked down as if he wasn’t prepared to look me in the eye. “Just answer the question, Richard.”

“
No, she didn’t say anything about anybody
threatening
her or anything like that. She was—” The street was swarming with police cars. It was obvious something had happened. Something terrible. I stopped to think about what I was saying.

“
Was what, Richard?”

“
She acted a little nervous and kept looking out the window. I just thought she was afraid of the storm. Should I call a lawyer?”

“
Do you need one?”

“
I don’t think so. I haven’t done anything.”

“
And you said she left around eight-thirty?”

“
Something like that.”

From behind me Lizard Lips asked, “Did she go straight home when she left?”

I drew a deep breath, “Yes, she did.”

“
How can you be so sure?” Staten asked.

“
I went with her—to get her power back on.”

Jones looked up. “You went to
her
house?”

“
Well, of course. How else was I going to get her power back on?”

Lizard Lips’ tongue rifled out and back in. “Around eight-thirty?”

“
Yes! Eight-thirty or nine. Why can’t you tell me what’s happened?”

Staten propped one fist on his hip and placed his other hand on the counter behind me to balance himself. “Maybe you could tell
us
.”

“
Me?” I felt the heat rise in my neck and cheeks. I swallowed. “There was nothing wrong when I left.”

“
And what time
did
you leave?” he asked.

“
I wasn’t there too long, but I’m not exactly sure what time I left. Probably nine-thirty or ten, but she was fine when I did.”

Jones chewed the inside of his cheek. “So you were there about an hour and a half?”

“
Oh no, I don’t think I was there that long.” I scrubbed my palms on my pants. “I told you, I’m not sure what time I left.”

“
So you got her power back on?” Lizard Lips asked.

I turned sideways to see him. “Yes. Just a circuit breaker tripped.”

“
And that took an hour and a half to reset?”

“
No. She wanted me to stay. She fixed me a drink and we talked some more. And…she changed and showed me a pose she wanted to do for a movie production. I don’t think I was there more than thirty or forty minutes.”

Officer Staten sighed wearily. “How often did you see Miss Matthews?”

“
Last night was the first time I’ve ever seen her. I didn’t even know anybody lived in that little house back there. You can’t really see it from here unless you look through the bushes.”

Jones squinted and cocked his head. “Could you tell me how you happened to get that scratch on your face?”

The fingers on my right hand went to my cheek. “I

I don’t know. I told you I had a lot to drink last night. I swear this has never happened before, but…I passed out over there.”

Sam Jones looked up drawing his eyebrows into an owlish look. “Richard, I need to ask you if you mind if we take DNA samples?”

“
DNA?” I wanted to rise, but the circle around me was too tight. Perspiration slid down my sides inside my clothes. “I didn’t do anything but get the girl’s lights back on, have a drink, and take a picture she asked me to take. That’s all. Nothing else. If anything else happened over there, it happened after I left.”

Jones put his pad away. “Then it’ll clear you. You should be thankful. You mind?”

Squeezing between Sam and the Lizard-man, I walked to the back door and looked out toward Ashleigh’s house. All of Hardesty’s floodlights were on. Through the trees, it looked like they were having a party except for the yellow and black tape stretching from tree to tree around the pool house—and all the little red flags stuck in the ground. Two boats moved about on the lake behind her house with men in yellow waist-high wading boots holding lights out over the water probing with poles. A camera flash went off inside her house. It seemed more like a movie than reality.

“
She seemed like a nice kid,” I said. “I can’t imagine anyone wanting to hurt her.” I turned back to face the men. “Is she okay?”

Sam and I had been through a lot the past three years. It hadn’t always been cordial, but he’d always been professional and understanding of our situation. He lowered his voice and spoke to me like a friend. “If you’re innocent, Richard, you should have nothing to fear from DNA testing. You should do everything you can to eliminate yourself as a suspect.”

“
I’m a suspect?”

“
Everyone’s a suspect right now.”

“
Jesus, Sam. I don’t even know what’s happened.”

Sam set his jaw and flared his nostrils. “If you refuse…and you have the right to do that…we’ll just get a court order and come back.” I watched the way the white patch on his eyelid grew larger as he blinked, then almost disappeared when his eye opened again. It gave the illusion that his eye rolled up in his head when he blinked instead of closing. He blinked several times while waiting for me to respond. “Are you refusing?”

“
No, of course not. I’d just like to know what the hell happened, Sam. That’s all. I think I have a right to know
something
about what I’m being accused of before I submit to any damned thing.”

“
Just relax, Richard. No one is accusing you of anything. This is routine. You were in her house for Christ’s sake. This is for your benefit more than ours.”