Poughkeepsie (14 page)

Kyle got to the car door before Livia could find the automatic lock button, so they played a few cycles of Kyle trying the handle while Livia simultaneously tried to unlock the door. Finally, Livia held up one finger to signal her sister to slow the hell down. Kyle bounced up and down like she was standing in a pile of hot coals. Livia locked, then unlocked the door to allow her incensed sister inside. As she entered, Kyle lashed out at anything and everything she could reach, including Livia.

Livia struggled to grab her sister’s flailing arms. “Kyle, whoa.
Ouch
! Damn it, calm down. Your freaking boob is hanging out. Pull yourself together.”

Kyle bit her lip and ignored her sister. “Damn him. Damn him to hell,” she seethed, glaring at the church.

Just then Cole emerged. He too was half-dressed—barefoot and bare-chested. His eyes found the car and locked on Kyle with a gaze that spoke of tremendous, shattering loss. It was as if she’d been swallowed by a fissure in the earth.

Livia looked back at her sister. “What the hell happened?”

Kyle looked at Cole with a matching desperate stare. She shook her head and finally slid her bra back in place to cover herself. “Leave. Drive.”

Livia hesitated. The scene before her seemed so raw. Leaving had to be an insult, a mistake.

Kyle looked at the car floor. “Livia, if you’ve ever loved me, even a little, you’ll take me away from here. Please, I’m begging you.”

Livia had never heard Kyle beg for anything. The big sister in her took over. She started the car, slammed it into reverse, and made for the exit. As soon as they no longer faced Cole, sobs wracked Kyle’s body. Livia felt reflex tears on her own cheeks, her body’s reaction to Kyle’s deep pain.

Livia watched in her rear view mirror as Cole punched the Our Lady of the River welcome plaque mounted next to the door. It shattered around his hand like a mirror.

Just as Kyle choked out, “I hate him,” Livia saw Cole fall to his knees. He looked like a man kneeling in front of his captor, waiting for the whip.

A few minutes later, Livia stopped for a red light and had a horrible, crawling feeling. “Did he
hurt
you?” she asked.

“No.
No
. Not in the way you’re thinking. Far from it.” Kyle still breathed in little sobs, but she seemed to be calming.

Livia felt relief in every part of her being.
If I’d been right outside while Kyle was being hurt
…Livia shook her head to clear it. “Are you going to tell me what happened?”

Kyle seemed to start and stop four different sentences before settling on, “No. I think I need to be alone with this.”

Livia watched pinks and yellows color the sky. She usually loved being out this ridiculously early in the morning, before the rest of the world. The air smelled different, like morning dew scented with promise. But this morning she could focus only on the knot of concern in her stomach and her silent sister next to her.

Kyle remained quiet all the way home, and when they arrived both girls were too numb to remember they’d snuck out the night before. As they slammed their car doors, both opened their eyes wide with alarm. Wordlessly, they bolted to the side of the house.

Livia rolled her eyes and whispered, “We need an apartment. We’re too damn old to be sneaking into the house.”

Kyle ignored her and went to work. She found the small, flat piece of metal she’d hidden behind a shrub and popped the lock on the downstairs window like a practiced cat burglar. She carefully replaced the tool where she could get to it again and continued to ignore Livia’s bug-eyed stare.

“That’s why you never wanted a dog? Because it would bark when you snuck in? I wanted a dog,” Livia said, finally connecting the dots.

Kyle shrugged and crawled in the window. Livia followed, her muscles still punishing her for her nap in the car.

Her sister stopped in the kitchen and waited. With predictable regularity, their father’s sleep noises came, like a gasping, dying bear’s, from his room. Kyle picked out a very specific path up the stairs, avoiding all the squeaks, then opened the door to her room.

“Put pajamas on,” she hissed over her shoulder as she went inside.

Livia threw on sweats and a T-shirt and was back at Kyle’s door. Finding it unlocked, she entered. Kyle lay on her bed, also in sweats, staring at the ceiling. Kyle’s room should have been all simple lines and modern furniture, but before she was born their mother, Margret, had spent ungodly amounts of money to outfit the room in the style of a frilly, lavender picture she’d seen in a magazine about celebrity nurseries. Little was changed over the years.

Livia knelt on the bed next to her sister. “Tell me
something
or I’m going to freak out.”

Kyle looked pained. “Livia, you’ve got it all together. You’re smart, pretty, and you have always had Chris—until he recently revealed he was a muff wanker. You have goals. I can’t tell you how often I’ve wished I could be that way.”

“But you’re so beautiful—” Livia quickly interjected.

“Mom left,” Kyle continued. “She didn’t leave after you were born. She left after
I
was born. Maybe she knew I’d be a disappointment.” Kyle held her finger up, stopping Livia’s next instant defense. “You asked. Now listen.” She twirled a purple teddy bear in her hands. “When you were busy with Chris, I missed you so much. I couldn’t find my place and the emptiness in me got bigger and bigger. Don’t blame yourself. You have a life, Livia. That’s normal and healthy.” Kyle’s voice was soft.

Livia pulled the bear out of Kyle’s grasp and held her hands. She now despised Chris even more, though this wasn’t his fault.

“Do you know how many guys I’ve been with?” Kyle asked, meeting her eyes for just a moment. “So many. You know why? Because in that moment, just before you let them fuck you, you’re the center of their universe. It lasts just seconds, but I like that feeling. I crave that feeling.

“This morning—last night? Whenever it was, standing in that church in front of him? I had that feeling. I was the center of his universe. And we had all our clothes
on
. That feeling lasted for hours.” Kyle closed her eyes as if to transport herself back there.

“But Margret had something more important to do, and so does he,” she suddenly spat, her voice bitter and poisonous. “Something is always more valuable than me.”

Livia had heard enough. “Kyle, you’re the most amazing, fearless woman I’ve ever met, and that includes that RoboBitch from the parking lot.” She gathered Kyle in a hug.

“Even though I’m a stone-cold slut?” Kyle relaxed and hugged her sister back.

“Even if you’re a dirty skankbag.” Livia smoothed Kyle’s hair in a supremely motherly gesture.

“You still love me even though I’m a whore pit viper?” Kyle grabbed fistfuls of Livia’s shirt, her hands belying her teasing words.

Sensing an oncoming tournament of off-color teasing, Livia shifted gears. She wanted to speak right to the emptiness. “I’d rather have you in my life than Margret. I’m not sorry you’re here.” Livia hugged Kyle again, trying to seal her love into her broken sister.

Just then their father opened Kyle’s door. The sisters looked up from the bed to find him surveying them with alarmed eyes. Emotions were not his strong suit.

“You girls all right in here?” His voice sounded like he was responding to a domestic violence call in the field.

Kyle recovered first and offered the only thing guaranteed to make their father bolt. “Yeah, Dad, we’re okay. I was just asking Livia about tampons. I think I keep doing something wrong.”

Livia buried her face in Kyle’s hair to hide her smile. As predicted, their father backed away, nodding, and hurriedly shut the door. His daughters’ silent laughter sent them across the bed together. Livia was thrilled to see her sister smile.

Kyle seemed to rally. “Livia, you better get ready or you’ll miss your train.”

“What’re you doing today?” Livia wasn’t quite ready to leave Kyle alone.

“I’ve got work, and tomorrow night I want to go out. I’m going to party my ass off. There’ll be pumpkin pie shooters in honor of Thanksgiving.” Kyle wiggled her eyebrows and disappeared into her closet.

“I’ll go with you.” Livia realized she should spend more time with Kyle, especially if her sister would be vengeance partying.

Kyle looked at her skeptically. “If you’re hanging with me, you have to dress hot. Not like a psychologist.” Kyle paused, still not seeming satisfied. “Tell you what, I’ll lay out your outfit tomorrow. I’ll pick you up from the train station, and we’ll get your
shitieous
car from the lot on Saturday.”

“Okay.” Livia knew she was committed now.

Livia dragged herself back to her own room, then took a quick shower, got dressed, and hit the kitchen in record time. She thought of Bea, her recent late-night acquaintance, as she made Blake a breakfast sandwich and put it in a paper bag.
Faith.

Her father came in, arming himself for his day at the precinct. He looked tremendously uncomfortable when he saw her, and Livia felt terrible about the whole tampon farce. God bless him, he tried to take care of his girls no matter what.

“Livia, did Kyle, um…figure everything out?”

Livia nodded and silently begged him to move on. He didn’t.

“Because if she needs to see a doctor—or a nurse if that’s better—to help her, with, um, stuff…” He shuffled his feet and looked at the ground.

Livia felt her cheeks pink up like they’d been slapped. “We worked it out. She knows where things, um, go now.”
Kill me
.

“Alrighty. If you’re sure.” John put on his police officer’s hat, which made him seem about six inches taller and changed his aura from Dad to Authority.

This reminded Livia of a question. “Hey, Dad, if I needed to check someone’s background, would you be able to do that for me?”

“That’s a little unethical, Liv.” John smoothed his mustache. “Is this about a boy?”

Livia cringed. “Yeah, it is.”

“Then absolutely. I’d be happy to.” He nodded with conviction.

He turned to head out the door, then seemed to think better of it. “Livia, I stopped Chris Simmer for speeding last night.” He paused, seeming to want a response.

None came.

“He seemed pretty torn up,” he continued. “He asked how you were. As far as I’m concerned he’s nobody until you tell me different. But I just wanted to let you know. Angry guys do stupid things sometimes. Be careful.”

“Did you give him a ticket?” Livia asked.

“I gave him a warning. I know Mrs. Grandma’s in a fragile state.” He turned again to leave.

Livia caught the door before he closed it. “Thanks, Dad.” On her tiptoes, she kissed his cheek. “I love you.”

“Love ya too, Liv.” A smile slipped through his professional façade.

Livia followed him out and got in her Escort. She was careful not to crush the breakfast sandwich filled with sausage, egg, and hope.

11

The Murderer and the Man of God

B
ECKETT
P
ULLED
U
P
T
O
the meeting spot in the Hummer. He emerged from his vehicle in an expensive suit, sans tie, with exquisitely costly Italian shoes cradling his feet. Cole was already there, dressed like he was ready to do yard work. He sat on the hood of the church’s boring tan sedan, which Beckett had hated since the first time he saw it.

“Still driving around in the dead man’s car?” Beckett said by way of greeting.

Cole hopped off the hood and walked toward Beckett until they could wrap their forearms together. The men stood closely for a moment. Someone watching might have guessed they were going to kiss.

Cole stepped back. “The dead man donated this fabulous piece of machinery with his dying breath. So, yes, I’m still driving it.”

“This is probably the only twenty-year-old car in existence with fourteen miles on the odometer. That guy really went nowhere but church. It should be in a fucking museum.” Beckett hopped onto the sedan’s hood, and the car creaked in protest.

Cole said nothing. The men scanned the woods. Today was cloudy, so they could expect to meet Blake here, where they’d parked, rather than traveling into the cover of trees.

“He ain’t comin’,” Beckett said. “Not by a long shot.”

But neither man moved. They would wait for the hour they promised, just as they had for the past seven years. This wouldn’t be the first time Blake hadn’t shown up.

Beckett took a closer look at Cole. “You look like crap on a pile of crap. What the hell have you been doing, self-flagellating instead of whacking off?”

“Did someone steal a Word-a-Day calendar recently?” Cole retorted.

Beckett leaned over and gave an exaggerated sniff. “You smell like pussy! Did you get pussy? Are you nailing an old chick?”