Kisscut

  Lena held up her hand to stop Sara. She took a breath, but did not let it go. Instead, she said, “I’ll be in the car when you want to go.”

  The comment was meant for Jeffrey, he realized, and he told Lena, “Okay. Good.” He fumbled for his keys and held them out to her, but she did not take them. Instead, she extended her hand, palm up, waiting for him to drop them.

  “Okay,” Lena said, holding the keys in her fist. She did not look at Jeffrey or Sara again. She stared at the floor, even as she walked down the hallway. Her posture was still slack, and she had an air of being completely defeated about her. Whatever Sara had said to the woman had cut to the bone.

  Jeffrey turned to Sara, not understanding what had just happened, or why. He asked, “What the hell did you just say to her?”

  Sara shook her head, putting her hand over her eyes. “Oh, Jeff,” she said, still shaking her head. “The wrong thing. The completely wrong thing.”

  7

  LENA SAT in Jeffrey’s Lincoln town car, her body tight as a drum. Her breathing came in pants, and she felt slightly light-headed, as if she might pass out. She was sweating, and not just from being trapped in the hot car. Her whole body felt lit up, as if she had touched a live electrical wire.

  “Bitch,” she breathed, thinking of Sara Linton. “Stupid bitch,” she repeated, as if calling her this would take away what had been said.

  Sara’s words still echoed in Lena’s head: Now you know what it’s like to hurt somebody.

  Hurt, Sara had said, but Lena knew what she had meant. Now you know what it’s like to rape somebody.

  “Goddamn it!” Lena screamed as loud as she could, trying to replace the sound. She slammed her hand against the dashboard, cursing Sara Linton, cursing this stupid job.

  Back in the interrogation room, drilling Dottie Weaver like that, for the first time in forever, Lena had started to feel human again, and Sara had taken that away with one simple sentence.

  “Dammit!” Lena screamed again, her voice hoarse from the effort. She wanted to cry, but there were no tears left, just a seething anger. Every muscle in her body was tense, and she felt like she could lift the car up and flip it over if she wanted to.

  “Stop it, stop it, stop it,” Lena told herself, trying to calm down. She had to be okay with this when Jeffrey got to the car, because he would tell Sara—he was fucking her, for God’s sake—and Lena did not want Sara Linton to know her words had struck so deep.

  Lena snorted a laugh at the thought of Sara’s lame apology. As if that made a difference. Sara had said exactly what she meant. The only reason she apologized was she felt bad for saying it out loud. On top of being a bitch, she was a coward.

  She took another deep breath, trying to get herself together. “It’s okay,” Lena whispered to herself. “It doesn’t matter. Nothing matters.”

  After a couple of minutes, Lena felt better. Her heart was not beating so hard, and her stomach seemed to unclench. She kept reminding herself that she was strong, that she had been through worse than this and survived. What Sara Linton thought did not matter in the big scheme of things. What mattered was that Lena could do her job. She had done her job. They had gotten some solid leads to follow in that interview, something that would not have happened if Sara Linton had been in charge.

  Lena looked at her watch, then did a double take. She had not realized what time it was. Hank would be wondering what was taking her so long. There was no way she could go to church with him now.

  Jeffrey’s car had a cell phone mounted into the console, and Lena leaned over, cranking the engine so she could use the phone. She turned on the air conditioner and cracked the window to let some of the heat out of the car. The phone took its time powering up, and she glanced at the station, this time to make sure Jeffrey was not coming out.

  Hank picked up on the first ring. “Hello?”

  “It’s me,” she said. There was a pause from his end, and she realized what her voice must sound like. There was a rawness to it, and the edge from her confrontation with Sara was still there. Thankfully, Hank did not ask her what was wrong.

  She said, “I’m not going to be able to make it to church.”

  “Oh?” he said, but did not go further.

  “I’ve got to do an interview with Jeffrey,” she told him, even though she did not owe Hank Norton an explanation. “We’re going to be a while, probably. You should go without me.” Lena’s voice went down on the last part of her sentence as she thought about going home and being by herself.

  “Lee?” Hank asked, obviously sensing her fear. “I can stay here for you if you want. You know, just until you get home.”

  “Don’t be stupid,” she said, aware that her tone wasn’t very convincing. “I’m not a three year old.”

  “You could come after, you know,” Hank said, hesitancy in his voice. “I mean, to hear the choir sing.”

  Lena experienced a sinking feeling as she remembered the concert. It would be dark outside by the time Hank got home. Inside the house would be darker, no matter how many lights Lena turned on.

  “I gotta get up early to go check on the bar, anyway,” Hank offered. “I could come home after the service.”

  “Hank,” Lena said, trying not to let on that her heart was about to explode in her chest. “Listen, go to the fucking concert, okay? I don’t need you baby-sitting me all the time. I mean, for fuck’s sake.”

  Sunlight flashed off the back door as Jeffrey came out of the building. Marla Simms was right behind him, holding a file folder out to the chief.

  Hank asked, “You’re sure?”

  “Yeah,” she answered before she could think about it. “Listen, I’ve gotta go. I’ll see you when you get home.”

  She hung up the phone before Hank could respond.

  “Jesus,” Jeffrey said as soon as he opened the car door. “Is the air on?” he asked, throwing her the file Marla had handed him.

  “Yeah,” Lena mumbled, shifting in her seat as he got in. Without thinking about it, she had moved away from him, as close to the door as she could get. If he noticed this, Jeffrey did not comment.

  Jeffrey threw his suit jacket into the back seat. “I got a call,” he said, obviously preoccupied. “My mother’s had an accident. I’ve got to go to Alabama tonight.”

  “Now?” Lena asked, putting her hand on the door handle, thinking she could call Hank from her car and tell him to wait for her.

  “No,” Jeffrey told her, making a point of looking at her hand. “Tonight.”

  “Okay,” she said, keeping her fingers on the handle, as if she was resting them there.

  “It’s gonna be a pain in the ass to leave in the middle of this. Maybe Mark Patterson can straighten things out.”

  “What do you mean, like it was a lover’s tiff or something?” Lena asked.

  “Maybe he can tell us who the other girls were, who the mother is.”

  She nodded, but did not think it was likely.

  “I talked to Brad. Fine wasn’t on the Ski Retreat.” Jeffrey frowned. “I’ll call Brad again after we talk to Mark and see if I can push him to remember anything else.” He paused. “I’m sure he would have said if something bad happened.”

  “Yeah,” Lena agreed. Brad was the kind of cop who would turn in his own mother for jaywalking.

  “First thing tomorrow, I want you and Brad to talk to Jenny Weaver’s teachers and see what kind of kid she was, maybe find out if there was somebody she was hanging around with. Also, talk to the girls who went on the retreat with Jenny and Lacey. They probably all go to the same school.”

  “Okay.”

  “I can’t get out of going to Alabama or I’d do this myself.”

  “Sure,” she said, wondering why he kept making excuses. Technically, he was in charge. Besides, it wasn’t like there was much Jeffrey could do on the case right now. Unless Mark pointed the finger at someone, they didn’t have very much to go on.

  He said, “I also want you to interview Fine a
s soon as possible.” He looked at his watch. “Tomorrow morning. Take Frank with you for that one, not Brad.”

  She repeated, “Okay.”

  “You said you know him, the preacher,” Jeffrey began, putting the car into reverse. “You think he’s got this in him?”

  “This?” Lena said, then remembered why they were here. “No,” she answered. “He’s not a bad guy. I just don’t get along with him is all.”

  Jeffrey gave her a look that said she didn’t seem to get along with anybody.

  Lena offered, “Actually, I’ve kind of got an appointment with him tomorrow evening.”

  “An appointment?”

  Lena looked at the dashboard. “Like you said before. What you wanted me to do,” she prompted, but he did not pick up on it. “Talk to somebody,” she supplied.

  “Well, maybe you shouldn’t be the one to—”

  “No,” she insisted. “I want to do it.” She tried to smile, but it felt fake, even to her. “It’ll surprise him, right? Thinking that I’m there for a session or whatever, but turning it around and asking him about Jenny and the Pattersons.”

  Jeffrey frowned as he turned the car out of the parking lot. “I’m not sure I like that.”

  “You always said that the best time to interview somebody is when you catch him off guard,” she reminded him, trying to keep the desperation out of her voice. “Besides, Hank set it up. It’s not like I would talk to him about…” Lena looked for a word, but could not find one. “I wouldn’t talk to him, okay? He’s a freak. I don’t trust him.”

  “Why?”

  “I just don’t,” she said. “I just have a feeling about him.”

  “But you don’t think he did this?”

  She shrugged, trying to find a way to backpedal. How could she explain to Jeffrey that the main reason she did not like Dave Fine, did not trust him, was that he was a pastor? Jeffrey was being just as stupid about it as Hank. How anyone could not make the connection between Lena’s being assaulted by a religious fanatic and her not wanting to talk to a preacher about it was beyond her.

  She said, “I dunno, maybe he’s got it in him.”

  The lie seemed to swing Jeffrey. “Okay. But, take Frank with you.”

  “Sure.”

  “This isn’t an interrogation. We’re just trying to find out if he knows anything. Don’t go in there and piss him off for no good reason.”

  “I know.”

  “And set something else up,” he said. “Something with somebody else.” He paused. “That was a condition, Lena. The only reason I let you come back so early was because you promised you would talk to somebody about what happened.”

  “Yeah,” she nodded. “I’ll set something up with somebody else, first thing.”

  He stared at her, as if he could figure her out just from looking.

  She tried to sound casual as she changed the subject, asking, “She okay? Your mom, I mean.”

  “Yeah,” he answered. “Are you all right?”

  She tried not to sound glib. “I’m fine.”

  “That thing with Sara—”

  “I’m fine,” she reassured him, using a tone that would have shut up Hank in two seconds flat.

  Jeffrey, of course, was not Hank Norton. He persisted, “You’re sure?”

  “Yeah.” Then, to prove it, she asked, “What was that thing in the interview? Dr. Linton sounded surprised when the mother mentioned Lacey Patterson.”

  “She was a patient of Sara’s at the clinic,” Jeffrey told her. Then, almost to himself, he said, “You know how Sara feels about her kids.”

  Lena didn’t, and she looked down at the file, not answering him. Mark Patterson’s name was on the tab, and she flipped it open to see what he had been up to. The top sheet had his vitals on it, including his address. “They live in Morningside?” she asked, referring to a shady part of Madison.

  “I’m thinking it’s that trailer park. The one with the green awning over the sign?”

  “The Kudzu Arms,” Lena supplied. She and Brad had been called out to the Kudzu on several occasions over the course of the last few months. The hotter the weather, the hotter the tempers.

  “Anyway,” Jeffrey said, moving things along. “What’s he got on his sheet?”

  Lena thumbed through the pages. “Two B and Es when he was ten, both of them at the Kudzu Arms. Most recently, he beat up his sister pretty bad. His father called us out, we got there, they wouldn’t press charges.” She stopped reading, providing, “‘We’ means Deacon and Percy,” she supplied, referring to two beat cops. “They pulled this one, not me and Brad.”

  Jeffrey scratched his chin, seeming to think this through. “I don’t even remember when it happened.”

  “Just after Thanksgiving,” Lena told him. “Then, around Christmas time, Deacon and Percy were called back. It was the father again, and he asked for them specifically.” She skimmed the report Deacon had written. “This time, charges were filed. They took him down to the pokey for a couple of days, Mark was supposed to take some anger management classes in exchange for time served.” She snorted a laugh. “Buddy Conford was his lawyer.”

  “Buddy’s not that bad,” Jeffrey said.

  Lena closed the file, giving him an incredulous look. “He’s a whore. He puts addicts and murderers back on the streets.”

  “He’s doing his job, just like we are.”

  “His job screws our job,” Lena insisted.

  Jeffrey shook his head. “He’s gunna be talking to you about the Weaver situation,” he told her. “The shooting.”

  Lena snorted a laugh. “He’s working for Dottie Weaver?”

  “The city,” he told her. “I guess he’s doing it as a favor to the mayor.” Jeffrey shrugged. “Anyway, work it out with him. Tell him what happened.”

  “It was a clean shot,” Lena told him, because if there was one truth in her life right now, it was that Jeffrey had taken the only option given to him. She said, “Brad will say the same thing.”

  Jeffrey was quiet, and he seemed to drop the subject, but after a few minutes he pulled the car over to the side of the road. Lena felt a sense of déjà vu, and her stomach lurched as she thought about being in the car with Hank that morning, and how she had embarrassed herself. There was no question in her mind now that Lena would not have the same problem with Jeffrey. She could be stronger around Jeffrey because he did not see her the way that Hank did. Hank still thought of Lena as a teenage girl because that was the only way he had ever really known her.

  Lena waited as Jeffrey put the car in park and turned toward her. She felt the hair on the back of her neck rise, and thought she might be in trouble or something.

  “Between you and me…,” Jeffrey said, then stopped. He waited until she looked him in the eye and repeated himself. “Between you and me,” he said.

  “Yeah,” Lena nodded, not liking the serious tone in his voice. Her stomach sank in her gut as she realized he was going to say something about Sara.

  He surprised her, saying instead, “The shot.”

  She nodded for him to continue.

  “With Weaver,” he said, as if he needed to narrow it down. She could see how upset he was. For the first time, she understood what it meant to read someone like a book. She saw the kind of pain in his eyes that she would never expect to see in Jeffrey Tolliver.

  “Tell me the truth,” he said, a begging quality to his voice. “You were there. You saw what happened.”

  “I did,” she agreed, feeling a startling need coming off of him.

  “Tell me,” he said, begging more openly this time. Lena felt a kind of rush from his desperation. Jeffrey needed something from her. Jeffrey Tolliver, who had seen her naked, nailed down to the floor, bruised and bleeding, needed something from Lena.

  She let the moment linger, savoring the power more than anything else. “Yeah,” she finally said, though with little conviction.

  He continued to stare, and she could see the doubt in his eyes. For
a moment, she thought he might even tear up.

  “It was a clean shot,” she told him. He kept staring straight at her, as if he could see into her. Lena knew that her tone wasn’t confident, and that he had picked up on this. She knew, also, that she had not made it clear that she trusted his judgment. Her response had been purposefully ambiguous. Lena had no idea why she had done this, but she felt the thrill of it for a long while, even as Jeffrey put the car back into gear and drove down the road.

  Grant County was made up of three cities: Heartsdale, Madison, and Avondale. Like Avondale, Madison was poorer than Heartsdale, and there were plenty of trailer parks around because it was cheap housing. This did not necessarily mean that the people occupying the trailers were cheap. There were some better parks with community centers and swimming pools and neighborhood watches, just as there were some that festered with domestic violence and drunken brawls. The Kudzu Arms fell into this second category. It was about as far from a neighborhood as a place could get without falling off the map. Trailers in various states of dilapidation fanned out from a single dirt road. Some of the residents had tried to plant gardens to no avail. Even without the drought, which had put all of Georgia on water restrictions, the heat would have killed the flowers. The heat was enough to kill people. The plants did not have a chance.

  “Depressing,” Jeffrey noted, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. It was a nervous habit she had never seen in him, and Lena felt the guilt come back like a strong undertow, pulling her the wrong way. She should have been more adamant about the shooting. She should have looked him right in the eye and told him the truth, that killing the teenager was the only thing he could have done. Lena could not think how to make it better. A thousand adamant yeses would never erase her initial reticence and the impact it had made. What had she been thinking?

  Jeffrey asked, “What’s the address?”

  Lena flipped the file open, tracing her finger to the address. “Threeten,” she said, looking up at the trailers. “These are all twos.”

  “Yeah,” Jeffrey agreed. He looked over his shoulder across the road from the park. “There it is.”