Chương 6
His face darkened.
For a moment I saw where Marcus had learned the expression.
Then Warren looked toward the neighbors still lingering within earshot and lowered his voice.
“Fine.”
He pointed at Rachel.
“But when Marcus comes home tonight, you remember who was here for you before she started this.”
I watched Rachel absorb the sentence.
Not when.
If.
Not whether Marcus would be released.
When he came home.
Not whether she wanted him there.
That had already been decided for her.
Warren walked away.
His sedan was parked two houses down because Marcus had blocked the driveway earlier.
He got in without saying goodbye.
Rachel waited until he drove off.
“Do you have somewhere to go?” I asked.
She shook her head immediately.
“I’m not leaving my house.”
“That isn’t what I asked.”
“I know.”
“Do you have somewhere to go?”
She glanced toward the front windows.
“Our mother.”
“Mom’s place has one bedroom and a sofa she claims is comfortable because she falls asleep on it during game shows.”
Despite herself, Rachel smiled.
“She does love that sofa.”
“She lies about the lumbar support.”
The smile disappeared.
“I could stay there.”
“Okay.”
“But I don’t want to.”
I nodded.
“You don’t have to decide this second.”
“See, that’s where you’re wrong.”
Her phone buzzed in her hand.
She looked at the screen.
The color left her face.
“Marcus?”
She nodded.
“He gets a call?”
“Probably from booking.”
She stared at the number.
“Answer if you want.”
“What would I say?”
“I don’t know.”
“That’s useful.”
“I’m trying something new.”
Her phone kept ringing.
She answered on the last vibration.
“Hello?”
I stepped away.
Rachel turned her back to me.
She listened.
Her shoulders rose.
“No.”
A pause.
“No, I didn’t tell her to call.”
Another pause.
“She didn’t.”
Her voice sharpened.
“I said she didn’t.”
I could not hear Marcus, but I did not need to.
Rachel looked toward me.
“No, I’m not coming down there.”
Her hand started trembling.
“Marcus, stop.”
Then she went silent.
The call continued.
I walked farther away.
She did not need an audience for every wound.
After nearly a minute, she ended the call without saying goodbye.
She stood still.
“What did he say?” I asked.
Rachel stared at the phone.
“He wants me to tell the police you provoked him.”
I waited.
“He says if I tell them it was family sparring, maybe they’ll drop it.”
“Will you?”
Her head came up sharply.
“What?”
“I’m asking.”
“You think I would?”
“I don’t know what you’ll do.”
That hurt her.
Good.
Not because I wanted to hurt her.
Because pretending certainty would have been another lie between us.
Rachel looked toward the SUV.
“I watched him grab you.”
“Yes.”
“I watched him swing at you.”
“Yes.”
“And you still think I might lie.”
“I think you’ve spent a long time protecting him.”
Her eyes filled again.
“That’s not fair.”
“No.”
I nodded.
“It’s not.”
She stared at me.
“But it’s true.”
Rachel sat down on the curb where Lily had been earlier.
She held her phone between both hands.
“I hate you a little right now.”
“I can live with that.”
“You always say things like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like you can survive anything.”
I looked at the pavement.
“That’s not what I mean.”
“It’s what everybody hears.”
She wiped her nose with the back of her hand and laughed bitterly.
“Do you know what it was like growing up with you?”
I looked at her.
“No.”
“You were good at everything that scared me.”
“That is absolutely not true.”
“You joined the Army.”
“I was terrified.”
“You left home at nineteen.”
“I cried in an airport bathroom for twenty minutes.”
Rachel blinked.
“You never told me that.”
“Why would I?”
“Because I thought you didn’t care.”
The accusation came out quietly.
That made it harder to defend against.
“I cared.”
“You didn’t act like it.”
I sat beside her.
For several seconds neither of us spoke.
The pavement still held the day’s warmth.
A napkin rolled down the gutter and snagged beneath a parked truck.
“I didn’t know how,” I said.
Rachel looked at me.
“When Dad died, you handled everything.”
“Someone had to.”
“Exactly.”
She leaned forward.
“You picked the funeral home.”
“Mom couldn’t.”
“You called the insurance company.”
“She asked me to.”
“You cleaned out his garage.”
“You hated that garage.”
“I hated doing it alone.”
That landed.
I remembered cardboard boxes.
Oil-stained tools.
My father’s old radio still tuned to the station he listened to every morning.
Rachel had shown up once, stood in the doorway for less than a minute, and said she could not do it.
I had called her weak inside my own head.
I had never asked what she needed.
“I’m sorry,” I said.
Rachel stared ahead.
“For the garage?”
“For a lot of things.”
“That’s inconvenient timing.”
“I know.”
She breathed out.
“My husband is in jail and you’re apologizing for Dad’s sockets.”
“He had too many sockets.”
“He had thirty-seven of the same size.”
“That’s not possible.”
“I counted.”
A laugh escaped her.
Then another.
She covered her mouth because crying and laughing had become tangled together.
I laughed too.
It lasted maybe ten seconds.
It helped nothing.
It changed something.
Her phone buzzed again.
This time she did not answer.
“What are you going to do?” she asked.
“Take Lily home.”
“And then?”
“Make dinner she won’t eat.”
Rachel glanced at me.
“You always cook when you’re stressed.”
“I cook when I’m hungry.”
“You made twelve pancakes the night Daniel moved out.”
“Lily liked pancakes.”
“She was four.”
“She had six.”
“She threw up.”
“That detail was unnecessary.”
Rachel smiled.
Then she looked toward her house again.
“What if Marcus comes back tonight?”
I turned serious.
“Do you want him there?”
She took too long.
“No.”
“Then tell the officers that.”
“What can they do?”
“I don’t know exactly.”
“You don’t know?”
May you like
“I’m not a lawyer.”
“You work for the federal government.”
