Walleye Junction (22 page)

“I didn't know that when we started seeing each other. Nobody did.”

“I could have told you,” said Aiden.

“I wouldn't have listened.”

“Macy, are you really over him?”

“I'm no longer in love with him if that's what you're asking.”

“Then what do I need to worry about?”

“I wasn't joking when I said I'd been badly trained in relationships. When I was with Ray I rarely asked for anything because the answer would always be no. I learned to pretend I was independent until I really was independent. I lowered my expectations, then lowered them again. It was a very lonely four years, but I convinced myself that it wasn't. It was that fucked up.”

Aiden brushed away her hair and kissed her on the forehead. His voice sounded lazy and slow.

“So,” he said. “What do you want to do?”

“This isn't going to be easy.”

“I know.”

“I'm not promising anything, but I want to try.”

“Are you sure?”

She nodded. “So, what do we do now?”

“We make plans. It's that simple.”

“Kalispell has a branch office,” said Macy. “I could look into the possibility of a transfer.”

“That's a start.”

Macy's phone buzzed and she fished it out of her pocket.

“I have a missed call from Gina,” she said, rising to her feet. “I really need to speak to her.”

Macy drifted to the kitchen and opened the refrigerator out of habit more than hunger.

“Gina, it's Macy,” she said, poking through a selection of readymade meals before shutting the door. “Is everything okay in Helena?”

“Yeah, it's all fine now. My mother-in-law slipped and fell down the stairs.”

“That's terrible. Is she okay?”

“She's dislocated a shoulder and is pretty bruised. Thankfully, my kids were here when it happened. Her blood pressure was super low when the paramedics arrived so a delay could have been fatal. Just a sec.” Gina covered the mouthpiece for a few seconds and all Macy could hear were muffled voices. “Macy, are you still there?”

“I'm here.”

“My husband is taking off a few days from work to care for his mother, and it looks like my sister-in-law is willing to step in to look after the children, so I should get back up to Walleye soon.”

“Gina, there are plenty of people working this case. You should take all the time you need.”

“I don't see how hanging around here is going to help. It's going to be a full house.”

“What happens when your husband goes back to work?”

Gina paused. “I'm not sure. I'm either going to have to come up with a more permanent child-care arrangement or find some way to cut back on my hours. Having my mother-in-law move in whenever we're stuck isn't working.”

“Makes me realize how lucky I am to have my mom around to look after Luke.”

“You do seem to be able to come and go as you please. How are you holding up?” asked Gina. “I'm supposed to be looking after you, not the other way around.”

Macy sat down on the coffee table in front of Aiden. His eyes fluttered but didn't open. Being with Aiden would mean leaving Helena. Without her mother providing full-time child care, she didn't see how she'd manage the hours she worked as a special investigator. She'd have to cut back or change jobs.

“I'm fine,” said Macy. “Just trying to sort through some issues I'm having.”

“Are you talking about work or your personal life?”

“I work a lot of hours. They're pretty much the same thing.”

“If you ever want to talk, you know where to find me.”

“Thanks, Gina. I appreciate that. Let me know when you're heading back this way.”

 

10

A dozen crows fought over the remnants of a gopher snake that had been flattened by a passing car. They scattered as Emma came running up the road. She stopped on the sidewalk outside her home and paced back and forth with her hands on her hips. She was struggling to catch her breath. The air was cold and sharp, and at five thousand feet above sea level, it was also much thinner than what she was used to back in San Francisco. She glanced up at her mother's bedroom window. The curtains were still drawn.

A lone bicycle came from the direction of town. The girl peddling it appeared to be in her early teens. The bike lurched sharply every time she hurled a newspaper onto a driveway. She said a breathless good morning as she threw a newspaper in Emma's direction. Emma smiled as she returned the greeting, but inside her heart was racing. She hadn't expected to see her picture on the front page of the local paper. She slid the rubber band off the folded paper to reveal the rest of the article about her father's murder and the ongoing investigation. There was a photo of Emma alongside the text. It was a corporate shot pinched from her employer's Web site. She looked at the story's byline and frowned. It was the second time she'd seen Nathan's fiancée's name in print. Emma skimmed the article and was relieved to find that other than a brief biography cut and pasted from her company's online profile, she was barely mentioned. On the third page there was a short piece on Carla and Lloyd Spencer's death that highlighted their ongoing fight with addiction. Their link to her father's kidnapping and murder was still being kept out of the papers.

By the time Emma went inside, she was shivering from the cold. She nudged the thermostat until the heating came on and made a quick cup of tea. Carrying it in one hand, she ascended the stairs as quietly as possible. The door to her mother's room was cracked open. A sliver of lamplight cut across the landing. Emma almost knocked but stopped when she heard her mother's voice. It sounded like she was on the phone. The words needed context to make sense.

“I don't know what more I can do
 …
she doesn't know anything.
”

A floorboard creaked beneath Emma's feet.

“Emma?” her mother called out, “Is that you?”

Emma poked her head into her mother's room. Francine was fully dressed and sitting on the edge of the unmade bed. There was no phone in sight. Leaving her cup of tea on a table in the landing, Emma wished her mother a good morning and stepped inside.

“I couldn't sleep so I went out early for a run,” said Emma.

Her mother blinked up at her.

“Mom, are you okay?” she asked, her eyes searching the rumpled folds of the bedspread for a phone. “I thought I heard your voice. Were you on the phone?”

Francine looked nervous.

“I was talking to myself,” said Francine.

“Since when do you talk to yourself?”

“It's your father's death. I can't accept it.” Francine twisted a tissue in her hands. “It's all the things I should have said. I keep thinking that somewhere along the way I could have done something differently.”

“Mom, I'm here now. I want you to talk to me. I want us to be close again.”

“You go take a shower,” her mom said, reaching down to smooth the bedspread. “I'll make us some breakfast.”

*   *   *

Emma and Francine sat across from each other at the kitchen table. Francine hadn't stopped speaking since Emma came downstairs, but it was all nervous chatter. The newspaper was sitting in full view on the counter. It was opened to the article about Carla and Lloyd Spencer.

“Mom, we need to talk about what was going on with Dad. It may have been drugs, but it also may have been something else. He must have confided in you about what he was working on.”

Francine put her fork down next to her plate. She'd yet to touch her food, but she still dabbed her lips with her napkin.

“Philip said nothing,” said Francine.

“You expect me to believe that you knew nothing about what he's been up to over the past two months.”

“It's the truth.”

“He bought a gun. It goes against everything he stood for. You've been together for nearly forty years. It's not something he would have kept secret.”

“Don't you think I know that?” Francine's blue eyes were clouded with tears. “He'd become so withdrawn over the past few months. Whenever we went out he kept saying that we were being followed. Emma, there was never anyone there.
It's just those crows,
I'd tell him.
They follow you everywhere
.”

“You said he was talking to Dot?”

“I told you to forget what I said about Dot. I spoke out of turn. What happened to your father is making me paranoid.”

“But don't you see now that he could have been right,” said Emma. “Someone may have been following him. We need to find out what he was working on.”

“We need to let the police do their job.”

“I can't just sit here and do nothing.”

“Emma, promise me that you'll stay out of it. I need to know that you're safe more than anything right now.”

Emma softened her tone. There was no reason to worry her mother.

“I'm sorry, Mom. I'll promise to stay out of it if that's what you want.”

“Thank you. I know it's hard for you to let other people take charge. It's not in your nature.”

Emma checked the time. It was just coming up to eight. There were hours of daylight ahead of her and she had no idea how she'd spend them. Sitting in her mother's kitchen wasn't an option, but neither was meeting Nathan for lunch. He'd sent her a text saying that he wanted to talk. Emma couldn't think of anything she wanted to say to him that didn't involve rehashing unresolved issues that dated back to high school. She focused in on her mother again.

“I hear that you volunteer at a homeless charity.”

“After years sitting behind a receptionist's desk, I wanted to do something that mattered.”

“You worked at a doctor's office. I'd say that mattered.”

Francine fingered the handle of her coffee cup. There were tears in her eyes.

“That's kind of you to say,” said Francine. “It didn't always feel like that. Your father was always the one with the cause. I was the one with the paycheck.”

“There's nothing wrong with earning a living. I don't remember there being any homeless people in Walleye when I lived here.”

“The downturn in the economy hit families around here hard. Even if they managed to keep their homes, a lot of people couldn't afford the upkeep. The charity raises money for repairs, but some of the houses are uninhabitable. I went out to do an inspection a couple weeks ago. A family has been without running water for the past six months and their roof has so many leaks they all sleep in one room.”

“Nathan told me that it's mostly drug addicts.”

“I really don't have time for Nathan Winfrey's opinions. It's that kind of attitude that makes it difficult for us to raise money. If we even suspect someone of using we turn them away.”

Emma took a sip of her coffee. “What do you do there?”

“I help with administration and fund-raising. I know most everyone in this part of the valley. If you shake people hard enough money starts spilling from their pockets. It turns out I'm good at shaking.”

“Did dad ever help out?”

“He'd come along when we were fixing up properties.” Francine half smiled. “The men would get so competitive on the job site.”

“Kind of dangerous if they're armed with hammers. I don't suppose Nathan ever lent a hand.”

“I tried to get them to help out, but neither he nor his uncle Caleb wanted any part of it.” Francine folded her hands in her lap. “When did you speak to Nathan?”

“He came by the other night when you were sleeping.”

“I think you made a lucky escape with that boy.”

“How do you mean?”

“Back in high school there was all this talk of marriage. I know he's your friend so I don't want to speak ill of him, but your father and I didn't think it was a good idea.”

“You never said anything.”

“You were—you are—so headstrong. We worried that you'd dig your heels in if we showed our disapproval. Besides it wasn't even something we could put our finger on. We just didn't like him.”

“He wasn't who I thought he was. I just didn't see it until it was too late.”

“Nathan was one of the reasons your father and I insisted you study in London during your junior year. We were hoping you'd break up, but when you came back you were a couple again.”

“I was just biding my time.” Emma lifted her chin. “You know he's moving into Caleb's house. If we'd stayed together I'd only be a few hundred yards away.”

“I think you misunderstand me sometimes. I supported your decision to move away and have a career. I just couldn't understand why you stayed away for so long. I know that stuff Caleb said was very upsetting, but it was so long ago now. Besides, he's just one man and a very unpleasant one at that. If people thought they could get away with it, they would cross the street to avoid shaking his hand. And who cares if people thought you were gay? Around here pretty much anything is okay as long as you go to church.” Francine paused. “You do go to church?”

“Every Sunday,” Emma lied.

“Good girl.”

“It's amazing that you still have faith after what has happened.”

“It comes and goes,” said Francine. “I've had a lot of support over the past week. Even Dr. Whitaker's evil third wife risked coming to see me. She usually steers clear of Dot's friends.”

“With good reason. You threw her casserole away. I saw it in the trash.”

“I doubt she cooked it anyway.”

Francine pulled a set of keys from the pocket of her sweater and set them on the table.

“What's this?” asked Emma.

“The keys to Caleb's place. Philip had been keeping an eye on the house since Caleb was moved into the nursing home. I want you to give them back to Nathan. I don't want the responsibility.”