Turning Angel

”Why the hesitation?“

”I was thinking about something else.“

”What?“

”Private stuff.“

I decide to leave this alone. ”Was Marko in school today?“

”No.“

”What about Steve Sayers?“

”Steve was there. He was trash-talking Dr. Elliott when I saw him.“

An image of Kate’s ex-boyfriend rises in my mind. A Matthew McConaughey look-alike with a more redneck bent. ”Have you ever seen Steve do drugs?“

Mia rolls her eyes. ”I’ve seen him smoke weed. But most of the guys do that on occasion, even the jocks.“

”Nothing harder than pot?“

”No.“

”Do you think Steve could have killed Kate?“

She picks at a thread in the fabric of a pillow beside her. ”Only in a fit of rage. He’d be screaming and crying as soon as he realized what he’d done.“

”Maybe that’s exactly what happened.“

”If Kate insulted his masculinity or something, I can see him hitting her.“

”What about choking her?“

She tilts a hand from side to side. ”Yeah, I can see that.“

”Steve still has a weak alibi. And he assaulted Drew before word about the affair with Kate was really out in the community. Will you see if you can find out how he first learned about Kate and Drew?“

”I’ll ask him.“

”Be careful.“

”Don’t worry. Steve’s pretty much a brick.“ Mia hugs the pillow to her chest. ”You know, I’ve been sitting here trying to figure out what’s behind all this violence.“

”Have you?“

”I think people’s motivations are pretty basic, you know? Primitive.“

”Go on.“

”It’s like sex.“

”How do you mean?“

She shrugs as though her point is self-evident. ”Sex is always there, you know? People act civilized, they go through the motions of public life, but these secret attractions and affairs are always going on. Look at St. Stephen’s-the parents, I mean. How many of them are having affairs with other people’s husbands and wives? Quite a few that I know about. How do those affairs start? With a glance that lingered too long? Bumping into each other in the grocery store? My point is that sexual energy is always there. That desire to be loved and wanted is always looking for a connection. And that’s the secret motivation of a lot of what we see.“

”You’re right. So?“

”That’s what’s missing from history, I think.“

”History? What do you mean?“

Mia is hugging the pillow hard, but she seems unaware that she’s doing it. ”In school we learn about all these events, historical trends, stuff like that. But what we don’t learn-and probably can’t ever know-is the true nature of personalities. I mean we can read biographies-and if we’re lucky, personal letters-but the real interplay between individuals, the chemistry of aggression and submissiveness, pride and shame, sexual attraction-we can’t ever know that. That’s why it was so shocking to the country when they proved that Thomas Jefferson had children by his black slave. Suddenly he was no longer a granite figure on Mount Rushmore. He was just like us, you know? Feet of clay. We tell ourselves that we know everyone is human, but then we act as if we expect something else. We expect our heroes to be immortal.That’s the real problem Drew has now.“

Mia’s words are almost tumbling over themselves, but her command of the language amazes me. Did I speak this way as a high school senior? I don’t think so. I have a feeling Mia goes through life holding herself in, praying for someone who might be receptive to her thoughts. It strikes me as even stranger that this vocabulary is pouring from the mouth of a beautiful girl. That’s only my prejudice, of course, but I wouldn’t be half so surprised if Mia were a plain girl who sat at home all the time. But she’s the head cheerleader, with a body to make the shallowest high school jock drop his jaw in lust. Kate Townsend shared this quality with her, though Kate was not so conventionally beautiful. It’s not hard to see why Drew was drawn to this unusual combination of qualities.

”Most people in Natchez thought Drew was the greatest guy they’d ever met,“ Mia says. ”Now it turns out he was having sex with his babysitter, and they’re so pissed off they’re about to pop. But their anger’s not really about Kate, you know? It’s about them. They feel betrayed. They put him up on a pedestal, and then he committed the crime of being human. So fuck him, right? Never mind that Kate was two weeks shy of eighteen, and on the make for exactly the kind of affair she had with Drew.“

”So you think Kate was the aggressor?“

”I’d bet all the money I have on it.“ She grins, exposing perfect teeth. ”Which isn’t much.“

”If only Drew could get jurors with your mind-set. But go on. You said you’ve been trying to figure out what’s behind this violence.“

Mia looks startled. ”Oh! Sorry, I went off on a tangent, as usual. Okay, I know this sounds obvious, but I think you should start with the people and move forward, rather than the way cops work.“

”Which is?“

”They start with the murder and work backward. Right?“

”Some of them. Go on.“

”We’re not just looking for a killer. We’re trying to understand the secret reality of this town. Like Kate and Drew. That was the reality, not Drew and Ellen. You see? If you figure out the true connections, the killer will be obvious.“

Mia is right. Of course, the best homicide detectives use the exact methodology she’s describing. They’re experts on human psychology, even if they’ve never taken a single psychology course. But I doubt they developed their methods by the age of eighteen.

”Mia, I think you should think long and hard before you choose a career. Because you need to find something that’s going to make use of all of your gifts.“

She stares at me without speaking. Then she blinks as though suddenly coming awake. ”It’s time for me to go, isn’t it?“

I give her an apologetic smile. ”I think so.“

She forces herself to release the pillow, then speaks without looking at me. ”Are you in for the night?“

”Absolutely. I don’t think I can move from this spot.“

Now her eyes find mine. ”You don’t need me to stay and take Annie to school?“

”No, my eyes will pop open at seven.“

A skeptical smile. ”I left my backpack in the kitchen. I’ll get that, and then I’m gone.“

”Okay. I can’t thank you enough for staying late. You just did something I didn’t think anyone could do.“

”What’s that?“ she asks, standing.

”Took my mind off of the Wilsons’ bodies.“

”Well, I’m glad for that. See you tomorrow.“

She picks up her paperback and her cell phone, then leaves me alone in the study. I take a deep breath and settle back against the soft cushion. Mia’s theories of history and detective work acted like a tranquilizer on my frayed nerves. Driving home, I feared I would have trouble sleeping tonight, but my only trouble is going to be making it upstairs to my bedroom. The couch is plenty soft enough to sleep on.

I must have dozed off, because the next thing I feel is strong hands massaging my shoulders. I wouldn’t have allowed Mia to do this if I’d been awake, no matter how good it feels, which-frankly-is pretty damned good. Her fingertips dig expertly into the muscle fibers of my neck, then climb to the base of my skull, slowly easing the pressure on the disks between my cervical vertebrae. I groan involuntarily, and the sound of my pleasure brings me to full alertness.

”Mia, that feels great, but I can’t let you do that.“