Black Feathers (30 page)

“Chris,” she said, her voice low, somewhere between concerned and warning.

She had already changed out of her uniform, and her winter coat was zipped at the bottom. “It’s just the arrest report,” he said, as if that made any difference.

She nodded.

“I just wanted—”

“We got him,” she said.

“I know,” he said.

“Then what are you doing? They’ve got a whole crew upstairs going over this stuff. It’s gonna stick. There’s not a chance he walks on this. Not after—”

He nodded. “I know,” he repeated. The stories had been making the rounds of the station all day, rumours of just what they had found in the freezer. None of the detectives were saying anything, but that didn’t do anything to slow the rumours down. “I just—”

“Go home,” she said.

She took a step forward and crouched in front of him, putting one hand on his knee. “Seriously,” she said. “Go home. See your family. Have a drink or six. Or more.” She squeezed
his knee. “God knows you could use a good black-out drunk right about now.”

He forced a smile. “That sounds good,” he said.

She rose to her feet, but she didn’t step back. Looming over him, she said, “Come on, then. I’ll wait while you change and walk you out.”

He started to speak, but his eyes returned to the desk, to the computer screen.

She saw the look.

“Yeah,” she said. She shook her head.

“I won’t be long,” he said. “I just want to …”

He wasn’t sure what came at the end of that sentence. She was right: it was all sewn up. They had the guy.

There was something about the reports, though, something that bothered him; he just wasn’t sure what.

But Farrow wasn’t waiting for his answer. She was already turning away.

“Jesus,” Ali said, pulling the door shut behind the two of them, turning the latch. “It’s brutal out there.”

Cassie didn’t say anything. Without the wind, she had barely noticed the cold.

“Should I give you the formal tour?” Ali asked, leaning over to unbuckle her boots. “Or is that redundant at this point?” Cassie smiled, not quite sure how to respond. She pulled off her gloves and dropped them in the basket by the door. Ali noticed and smiled.

Compared to Ali’s leather jacket, which looked snug and went just to her waist, Cassie’s coat was like a sack. Taking it off
felt like climbing out of something, rather than just removing a garment.

Ali took the coat from her and hung it up as Cassie pulled off her shoes. She set them next to Ali’s—even, toes to the wall, heels together. Tidy.

That was the word that went through Cassie’s mind as Ali guided her through the apartment. Everything was tidy, clean.

Everything in the apartment had its place, and everything belonged.

It made Cassie wonder what possible place there could be for her here. She was chaos personified.

She didn’t belong anywhere.

“You didn’t have a bath this morning?” Ali asked, noting the still-folded towels on the bathroom counter.

“Um … no,” Cassie said, looking down at the floor. “I didn’t … I didn’t have any clothes …”

“Oh, shit,” Ali said, miming hitting herself on the forehead with the palm of her hand. “I’m sorry. I meant to get you some clothes from the bedroom, but I didn’t want to wake you.”

“I don’t think—” Cassie looked pointedly at Ali, then down at herself. “I don’t think we’re the same size.” She tried to make it sound like a joke, but Ali was so skinny, there was no chance she’d be able to squeeze into her clothes.

Ali looked at her disbelievingly. “I guess it’s been a while since you looked in the mirror.”

Ali pulled Cassie to the bathroom counter.

Cassie looked at Ali’s reflection first, her short hair, the slightness of her, the muscles of her arms, the edge of the tattoo peeking out from under her sleeve.

She didn’t recognize the girl beside her.

She had blond hair, dirty and stringy, hanging into her red,
blotchy face. But aside from the difference in colouring, the two girls in the mirror were equally slight, fine-boned, sharp featured, almost the same height even.

“I’m guessing that’s a bit of a change?” Ali said as Cassie watched the other girl’s reflection in the mirror turn toward her own.

“Yeah.” Cassie reached up, tentatively touching her fingertip to her cheek, verifying that the reflection was really her. She traced her fingers along her cheekbone, the line of her jaw.

It took her a moment to realize that Ali was watching her, and as their eyes met in the mirror, she had to fight the reflex to jerk her hand away, gently lowering it to her waist instead.

“So, you’re welcome to anything in the closet,” Ali said, turning away from the mirror.

Cassie’s gaze lingered there a little longer. She couldn’t get over how different she looked. And how dirty.

After her bath, Cassie dressed in the clothes that Ali had brought in from her bedroom.

When she opened the bathroom door, steam spilled out around her into the main room. It wasn’t cold in the apartment by any means, but Cassie shivered slightly at the sudden difference in temperature.

“Is that better?” Ali asked. She was sitting on the couch, tucked into the far corner of it, her legs folded under herself, a glass of wine in her hand.

“So much better,” Cassie answered, smiling and half-closing her eyes at the thought. She settled herself on the couch on the opposite end from Ali, sitting facing her. “You can’t imagine.”

Ali shook her head and looked down at her wineglass as a wave of sadness seemed to spread across her face. “No, I really can’t.”

Cassie had no idea what to say. “Thank you,” she said, hesitating. “For the bath. And the clothes. And the toothbrush.” She smiled, and Ali smiled too. “And the food at the restaurant. And the couch.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” Ali said. “I mean, you’re welcome. But really, you are welcome. Here.”

“I really appreciate it.”

“I like to think that’s just what people do for each other.”

Cassie thought of the past few weeks. “No,” she said. “Not most people.”

Ali looked down at her wineglass again and unfolded herself from the couch. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m being an awful host. I’m drinking away”—she lifted her wineglass in a half-toasting gesture—“and I haven’t offered you anything.” She stood up and edged past Cassie, setting her wineglass on the table next to a magazine. “What would you like?”

Cassie turned on the couch so she was facing into the kitchen.

“I’ll have whatever you’re having,” Cassie said.

Ali nodded, reached into her cupboard and set a wineglass on the counter. “Red okay for you?”

“Sure.” Cassie had no idea. Her experience with wine was limited to small glasses at Christmas and New Year’s, and the couple of times that Laura had broken into her parents’ wine rack and they had split the—

No.

She shook her head.
Heather.
She and Heather had stolen a bottle from their parents’ wine rack. They had taken it out to the woods to drink it. Heather had thrown up.

Why had she thought of Laura?

Why had the memory been so vivid? It was like it had really happened: she could remember them in the hayloft of Sullivan’s barn, leaning back against the bales, prickly and rough, passing the bottle back and forth.

But that had never happened.

She had only met Skylark in Victoria; why was she dreaming of her in Pressfield?

“It’s not just what people do, no,” Ali said, jarring Cassie from her thoughts.

She looked into the kitchen; Ali was looking back at her.

“I had a friend,” Ali said, looking down at the wine bottle. “In junior high. A good friend. She …” Ali shook her head, still looking away. “She didn’t get in trouble, but that’s what everyone at school said. It was easier than saying that she had come out to her parents, and they had thrown her out.”

She looked up at Cassie, then quickly away again.

“I didn’t … I was fourteen, maybe fifteen. I had no idea what to do.” She twisted the cork, pulled it out of the bottle. “So I didn’t do anything. I didn’t say anything.” She shrugged. “What could I say?”

It seemed like she might be expecting Cassie to answer, but she didn’t leave her any time.

“She dropped out of school. Just disappeared. I didn’t see her again for, I don’t know, months.” She tilted the bottle toward the two glasses on the counter in front of her. “Then, I was downtown, and I saw her.”

She set the bottle on the counter. She had filled only one glass.

“She was panhandling. Begging. She didn’t …” She shook her head again, clutching the neck of the bottle as if for
support. “I pretended I didn’t recognize her. I was with some friends, and I just—”

“Pretended she wasn’t there.” Cassie hadn’t intended the words to sting, but Ali flinched.

“I pretended I didn’t hear her when she called after me.” Lifting the bottle, she filled the second glass. She took a sip, set it down on the counter and filled it again.

“I went back downtown, by myself, to look for her. But she was gone.” She forced the cork back into the bottle. “I never saw her again.”

Cassie started to speak, but Ali shook her head. “Anyway,” she said. “That’s—No, people don’t always do right by each other, but … I’m trying.”

A hot wetness filled Cassie’s eyes. “You’ve always done right by me.”

“Well, thank you for saying that,” Ali said, picking up both of the glasses.

“No,” Cassie said. “Thank you.”

Ali shook her head sharply, wiped the corner of each eye by leaning in to the shoulders of her T-shirt.

“Here,” Ali said, passing her the wineglass by the stem as she shuffled past. With her own, she settled back into the far end of the couch.

The bowl of the wineglass was half-full: the wine caught the light, glowing red and warm.

“I guess we should have a toast,” Ali said, leaning toward Cassie. “What should we toast to?”

“I—” Cassie tried to think of something. She wanted to be profound, or at least thoughtful. Or funny. Funny would be good too. Especially now.

“How about ‘to winter’?” Ali suggested.

“To warm houses,” Cassie countered without thinking. “To warm houses in winter.”

She held her breath, hoping she hadn’t said something stupid.

Ali smiled. “I like that,” she said, and Cassie exhaled.

“To warm houses in winter,” Ali said, extending her glass.

Their wineglasses tinging together brought Cassie a small shiver.

The mere act of holding a wineglass, of sipping from it, made her feel grown-up. She could picture her parents, toasting in front of the fire …

She had to suppress a shudder.

“How’s that?” Ali asked.

“It’s good,” Cassie said, taking another sip.

“Good,” Ali said. “I’m glad.” She shifted on the couch, drawing her legs up to her chest. “Can I get you anything else?” she asked. “Is there anything you need?”

“I don’t think so,” Cassie said, looking at the glow of the light in the wine. “I’m okay. I’m liking just … being here.” She didn’t know if the words sounded as significant as they felt.

“It must be so strange,” Ali said thoughtfully. “Never knowing … well, like, never knowing where you’re going to sleep …”

Cassie flinched at the thought of the concrete, the cold, her heart thrumming suddenly in her chest.

There was a rush of heat where Ali touched Cassie’s arm. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean—”

Cassie hurried to shake her head. “No, it’s all right.”

“It’s just … I can’t even imagine what it must have been like.”

Cassie sipped her wine.

“It’s a world I just—”

“No,” Cassie said. “I can’t even really explain what it’s like.”

Ali’s lips parted as if she were about to speak.

“So many things to remember, places you can go, places you can’t go, people to keep away from. So many rules.”

“Rules?”

Cassie nodded, took another swallow of wine.

“Yeah,” she said. “That friend of mine, Skylark? One of the first things she ever told me was to keep my name to myself. Not to tell anyone. That if they didn’t know my name, they couldn’t hurt me.”

She should have been expecting it, but she wasn’t: the thought of Skylark, that first day in the park, brought tears burning in the corners of her eyes.