By dinnertime, Reeve had not returned.
“Think he’ll want some when he gets back?” Pete asked as they cleared the plates.
Cassidy sighed. “Who knows.”
“Where do you think he went?” he asked.
Cassidy looked at the driveway with the tools scattered all around and the sliding door wide open. “It’s not worth wondering. Either he’ll show or he won’t.”
Pete’s face fell. “What do we do if he doesn’t show?”
“Call a tow truck,” Cassidy said.
But she should have known a tow truck would be the easy part.
Pete was out for an evening run the next day when Reeve returned, a wild look in his eyes. His movements, too, were sharp and fast as he dashed into the kitchen for a beer, then back outside to talk on his phone, smoking cigarettes. Then he went at his van: bashing the engine with his tools, cursing loudly, attacking the interior. Soon Cassidy’s front yard contained two vinyl bench seats and strips of fake wood paneling. Reeve was acting possessed, and Cassidy both knew and dreaded what would happen next when he stormed back into the house.
He let loose with a stream of expletives.
From her seat at the table, Cassidy looked up from her laptop. “Do you need a mechanic?”
“No,” he barked. “Those fuckers are all crooks.”
“They’re also necessary sometimes,” Cassidy replied, figuring they’d cut to the chase. “Want me to find a good one for you?”
“What?” he said, chewing on the edge of his finger. “Actually, yeah,” he said. She watched his face change when the light bulb of an idea clicked on. “You’ve got money, so how about helping me out?” he asked, his wild eyes glinting like sparks.
A trickle of fear tapped into the pit of her stomach.
“How much did he leave you, huh? A million?” His cheek twitched. “Two?” He crossed the room so that he stood across the table from her, looking down. Up close, she could smell the same scent from the night before, mixed with his BO and sour breath.
“It’s none of your business,” she said as pulse accelerated.
He pounced before Cassidy could react. His fingers gripped her arms, yanking her out of her chair to press her into the wall. “You’ve always had a cold heart, you know that?”
“Cold heart?” Cassidy said. “I’ve always helped you. And I’d gladly give you money if I knew it wasn’t going up your nose. What are you on, anyway? Meth? I thought you said you’d never get into that shit.”
“Goddammit!” he cried, squeezing her arms so hard they burned.
This was going bad, fast. How could she get to her phone? She knew what was coming next, and it wasn’t good. “Let me go, Reeve.”
“Not until you give me what I want.”
The last time Reeve had been in rehab, their family had been forced to sit through a lecture by one of his counselors, who had explained the dangers of challenging a drug addict when he was desperate. Cassidy had barely contained her boredom—she’d been through it all before.
She glared into his eyes. “Get. Out.”
His face twisted with rage, he threw her down and raced towards her bedroom.
Cassidy struggled to her feet and lunged for her phone. In moments, she was giving her address to the dispatcher. A loud crash came from her bedroom. Don’t approach him when he’s violent. She raced to the doorway to see Reeve pawing through her drawers. Clothes flew out in all directions, landing on the floor and the bed. Her underwear drawer had been dumped upside down and tossed against the wall.
“There’s nothing there. You stole all of it already, don’t you remember?” she yelled, unable to contain her anger.
Reeve gave her a glance, but it was as if she wasn’t there. He finished going through the rest of the drawers and moved to the closet.
“You’re not going to find anything, Reeve!” she shouted over the noise of the hangers slamming across the rod.
“Where is it, bitch?” he yelped, turning to her. His jaw flexed.
“Where’s what?” she said aloud while thinking, Where are the police?
“Your safe.” His heaving breaths made his whole chest expand and contract, as if he had just sprinted.
“I don’t have a safe, Reeve! There’s nothing here.”
She heard the sirens, and as if coming out of a dream, Reeve did too. The look he gave her was filled with desperation, and for a split second, she felt sorry for him. “I’m sorry,” she said.
Pete arrived just as the police were walking Reeve to the patrol car. He rushed over to Cassidy. “What happened? Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” she replied, rubbing her sore arms.
They both watched the police officer shove Reeve’s head down and load him into the patrol car. His eyes had that vacant look and his jaw was clenched. She knew the worst part of his next several days would be the withdrawal from whatever junk he had dumped into his system.
“Would you like to press charges, Ma’am?” the officer asked. His partner came from inside her house, shutting the door softly behind him.
“No,” Cassidy replied, feeling exhausted.
“All right,” the officer said. “Can you come down to the station tomorrow, and give a statement?”
“Sure,” Cassidy agreed.
The two officers climbed into their car, and drove away.
Finally, Cassidy met Pete’s eyes.
“We’re going to need that tow truck,” she said, and returned to the house.
Seventeen
Portland International Airport, Oregon
August 16, 2016, 11:37 pm
Cassidy hurried from the airport terminal and squealed when she saw Pete waiting. She raced to him, and he swooped her up to hold her in a long embrace. They kissed for so long she came up breathless. “God, I missed you,” he said, stroking the side
