Or did Candice even have a good side?
“So you already know about them?” I asked. I was a latecomer to the investigation, so it shouldn’t surprise me that I didn’t have anything new.
“Like I said, there were plenty of rumors flying around. Apparently, Johnson and Baker witnessed your mom’s car driving into the quarry. They said it looked like she’d done it on purpose.”
I sat forward. “No. No, they said they didn’t see her drive over. They said they only heard about it later.”
“It’s all so long ago. I’m surprised anybody remembers anything.”
“Homer Johnson said he remembered plain as day.”
Candice folded her hands in her lap. “Tish. Everybody remembers things their own way. I’m sure their story has evolved over the years.”
“You’d think if they’d witnessed a car driving over a cliff, they’d remember it, even twenty-six years later.”
“Seems that way.” She shrugged. “Maybe I’m the one with the faulty memory.”
“I’m sure you remember what you were doing that night when you got the news.”
She gave a slow nod. “Plain as day.”
“Were you still at Puppa’s?”
“No. The fire had taken place weeks earlier and I’d stormed off. I blamed Bernard for the whole thing. So I was staying in Escanaba when I got the news.”
“Did Puppa call you?”
“He didn’t even know where I was.” She sounded like she might break into tears. “No. I heard about it later.”
I swallowed. “That must have been really hard for you.”
She blinked and nodded. “Yes, but that was no excuse not to attend that funeral, if only for your sake.” She wiped under her eyes. “But I couldn’t face your grandfather. And I couldn’t face Eva and Art. And I couldn’t face you.” The tears started rolling. “If only Beth hadn’t gone that night. I keep asking myself, why? Why?”
I scooted next to her and put my arms around her shoulders. “They said she went to meet my father at the Watering Hole. To warn him about something.”
“Your mother should never have been near the place,” Candice said. “Jake was in the clear. Bernard lost his career over the deal he cut to get that kid out of the loop.”
I paused to get the details straight in my mind. “But the fire. Sid and Paul both died, and my grandfather supposedly cut the deal with them. With the two of them dead, my father was back in jeopardy and my mom went to warn him.”
“How could she have known where he was unless your grandfather told her?” She jabbed a finger into the cushion. “That’s why she’s dead. It’s your grandfather’s fault.”
I backed away from the enraged woman and sat in my chair. “It makes me feel better if I can blame someone too. But I don’t think I’ll join you in blaming my grandfather. I like him. He tries to do his best. I’m sure he thought he was doing the right thing, even back then.”
Candice seethed through her teeth before calming down. “You’re right. It’s easy to blame. I guess we’ll never know why Beth died that night, and we’ll just have to accept that.”
I took a sip of iced tea. I’d never accept that my mother killed herself. And I’d never stop asking why until some new, better explanation could replace that lame account of the death of a woman who lived and loved so well, yet so briefly.
“Anyway”—I set my tea on the glass-top—“I’m going to request the police report. I’ll feel better after I read what the cops had to say.”
Candice’s tea clanked to the table. “Do you really think you’re strong enough to sift through those details? I insist you let it go. For your own sake.”
My stubborn streak dug in. “I think I can handle it. It’ll be a lot better than making stuff up in my head. I’m ready for the truth. Hey, by the way,” I changed the subject as quickly as I could, “we had an interesting adventure yesterday.”
I filled her in on my visiting family and the scare we had from Sam’s ex-husband.
“You have Melissa Belmont staying at your place?” Candice straightened, disapproval thick on her voice. “Does Drake know that?”
“I hope not. But I’m pretty sure he must.” I told her about Stick’s visit and Joel’s deception. “For all we know, Stick went right to Drake and told him where Missy and the kids are hiding out.”
She pressed her hands together. “Tish. You don’t know what you’ve gotten yourself into. Drake’s scheduled to get out of jail in a few days. Don’t think for a minute he won’t go after his family.” She leaned forward, elbows on knees. “And what were you thinking taking in that Sam girl? Now you’ve got her ex starting in. And it’s only the beginning. He’ll play cat and mouse awhile just for fun. Then he’ll go in for the kill.” She stared at me with pleading eyes. “Throw them out. Save your own life.”
I shivered at the chill in her voice. But all her urging couldn’t quash the defensive feeling that rose in my chest. “These are my friends. They need me. I can’t let them down.”
The color drained from her face. “I understand.” She stood and stacked the tea things on the tray. “Now if you don’t mind, I think I’ll rest a bit.”
I took the hint, said goodbye, and headed back to the lodge.
31
With Brad’s impending arrival, my home became my enemy. I felt as if a scythe swung just above my head, ready to cut off my breath the moment I saw his face. Perhaps he’d show up for dinner. Or drop by to say hello. Or take a shift as bodyguard. Not wanting to appear interested, I’d avoided asking the details of his visit.
My waitress-training commitment provided an opportunity to escape the house, but I couldn’t bear to be around Brad’s sister. She’d burdened me with a guilt trip over the way I’d treated him. And my mind played right into it. I beat myself up over every perceived slight I’d given my good friend. Now, if he did show up, my only option seemed to be crawling under a rock and hiding in shame until he went away. Toss in Candice’s criticism of my friends and choices, Puppa’s suggestion that I needed therapy, and Joel’s scorn of my very existence, and suddenly I could see how the bottom of Mead Quarry might become an attractive proposition.
But ending it all wasn’t a fitting choice for me. I was a survivor. I prided myself on having lived through everything God and others threw at me. I just had to wait out this latest storm. Next time I poked my head from my hole, things would be better.
The key was getting away from my tormenters. I needed space, time to think, air to breathe—somewhere they couldn’t imply how bad I was, how I should change, how I should never have been born.
Friday morning I woke early to make my escape. Snacks, water, and bug spray would be my only companions for the day. The quiet house seemed to echo with even the slightest of my movements as I snuck to the kitchen and gathered my supplies. With a final, slow zip of my backpack, I reached for the kitchen door.
“Where you going, cuz?” Gerard’s voice halted me at the verge of freedom.
I froze, busted by the bodyguard on the sofa.
“Uhh, just going out for some fresh air.” Even the truth had a ring of fiction to it. What was my problem? I didn’t have to tell him where I was off to. I was an adult—and this was my house.
I turned the handle without waiting for a response. The porch squeaked under my boots. The door latched behind me.
Damp air, still full of the dew that covered the grass, rushed into my lungs as I put one foot in front of the other, faster . . . faster . . . until the gravel was a bouncing blur. Pavement appeared briefly, then was gone, replaced by the sharp incline of the bluff. Roots, thorns, bark, and bare earth —all passed beneath my fingers as I scrambled unthinking to the top. I paused only a moment for a glimpse of the bay. Leaves blocked the view. Before thoughts of those still sleeping could invade, I fled toward the forest, losing myself—and my mind—in the flat expanse of the Silvan Plains.
I returned in near-darkness.
