Blind Trust (18 page)

“Earl!”

“What is it, honey?” She’s gonna think I’m a complete idiot. Why
did she marry me? If she’d taken off with Roger before I asked her, life would
be so much better. Look at him now, Senator and what am I? A damn grease
monkey.

Ah! Stupid arm! Why can the damn thing just heal already? Heaven
knows we can’t afford me getting it fixed . . . not now.

God, she’s so pretty. The woman is like an angel.

“Hey!”

What a jerk. What does he think he’s doing? Could have taken her
arm off. “Hey you!”

“Excuse me!” She’s rubbing her hand. Stupid fool could have
knocked her clean off her feet. I’ve a right mind to—

“You forgot the ketchup.”

I know. I know I left the damn ketchup, woman. Forget the ketchup!
Oh, just give me the damn—argh!

“Left.”

Even she knows it’s useless. Why did she stick with me all these
years? “It’s fine.”

“Just hold it in your left.”

I’m not a child, woman. I know I’m useless but I still have some
dignity left!

“Hey, Martha.”

Great, what does that useless fool want? Deputy Hal “Haven’t a
clue.” How he got to wear a badge . . . ?

“I’ll get it for you, Hun, just wait a second.”

If he’d just marry that damn Salter woman, she could mother him.

“Thanks, Martha. I just got to hurry.”

Hurry? Where, you idiot? The whole town is cut off and there’s no
cars to give a ticket today. There’s Serena. Why does she remind me of someone?
Can’t think who it is. My memory is as bad as my arm.

“Serena, sweetheart. How are you this morning?”

“Martha . . . there’s no need to yell her way, she isn’t deaf.”
She is pretty useful too. Wish I’d seen her floor that Jewel idiot.

“Serena?”

“Martha, keep it down.” She’s getting deaf I swear. Argh, this
food is burning through my damn fingers. “Martha, I’m gonna head to the boys.”

“Serena, sweetheart, you alright?”

I should buy her hearing aids for our anniversary. When is that?
Dammit, have I forgotten it? Better ask the boy.

“Hey, Ice Queen, where’s your knight?”

Oh look, if it isn’t that jackass Jewel. Knock him flat on his
back, honey! Oh she’s stopped. You’re in trouble now. Who is that guy? Wait—

Bang.

Bang.

“Martha!” Lord, woman, you’re too close. Please be okay.

“Earl? Earl!”

“I’m here. Martha you hurt?” You’re okay? No wounds . . . Just
breathe. Where’s the gun. Charlie? “Charlie, he—”

“No time!”

Yeah, why would you listen to me? When do you ever listen? Got to
get Martha off the street.

“No . . . is Serena . . . did he hurt her?”

“I don’t know.” It’s okay, love. I won’t let anyone hurt you. That
much, I can do. “Let’s get back to the café.”

“What about Aeron?”

Aeron? Oh Lord, bless her. Last thing she needs and I bet Charlie
doesn’t listen to a word. Never listens to a damn word otherwise Joyce wouldn’t
be the wreck she is.

“She’s got enough on her plate.” Don’t look at the body, honey.
Got to get you away. Don’t need to see that. “Let’s take care of Zack for her .
. . we’ll see her later.”

Martha was holding my head up ’cause at some point, I’d gone and
dropped to the floor. I was starting to wonder why I didn’t wander around in a
helmet. Would have been easier for everybody.

“You thought he had a gun?” I asked Earl. “I mean, the flash?”

Earl nodded. “Everybody has a gun here. It was just the way he
reached back. Made me think he was going to draw.”

“Maybe Renee thought that way too?”

Earl and Martha murmured agreement as they pulled me up to my
feet.

“Well, that’s definitely something.” I knew I had to learn more. I
had people to ruffle up. “Do you think Hal would be open to talking to me?”

“Not right now,” Martha said and at my deep sigh, she pointed to
the clock on the wall. “It’s gone midnight.”

“It is?” There was no way I could get in to see Renee now. “Well,
I should head back to the cabin. I need to figure out a plan.”

“He has breakfast at nine in the morning,” Martha told me as I
rescued my coat from the hook and headed to the door. “We’ll keep Zack here.
That way you can work.”

I turned around. They looked up at me. I dived forward and wrapped
them up in a hug. I didn’t care if it was appropriate and ignored my inbuilt
reaction to keep folk at arm’s length.

“Thank you,” I whispered in a hoarse voice. “I promise that by the
time I leave here, Seth will come clean.”

Both looked at me with such confidence that I felt raw. By
blackbear, I loved these people, I loved Zack, I loved St. Jude’s. Heading out
of the door, I tried to figure out why I said I was leaving them. Hadn’t I
decided to stay? To quit CIG?

This place felt like home since we had arrived. In spite of all
nature’s chaos and the shooting, St. Jude’s was a place of enlightenment for
me. Folk were good here and I loved them for it. So, why was I leaving?

I looked at the station and got a twinge of sorrow as I stared at
the small barred windows at the back. I found myself walking to the part of the
wall that I knew separated Renee from me.

It was snowing again. The cold slithered inside my throat and
stung my eyes. It was nothing compared to the lonely cold I felt inside. I
touched the stone, wishing I could move through it and go to her. I
couldn’t
leave her, I couldn’t go in but I couldn’t leave. I just stood there in the
cold, the snow whipping around me and freezing my face.

This place meant so much to me but, the fact was, she meant
more
.
If I didn’t leave with her, she’d never be safe. She’d end up as another name
on that wall and I couldn’t do that to her.

Renee had asked me once about freedom. Did I realize that to be
part of CIG was to give up any chance of it? At the time I’d said that I’d
never had it and that the bit I did have had only served to show me that it
weren’t all it was cracked up to be.

Well, now, I knew what it really felt like. People who cared,
scenic mountains all around me and no judgment. This was a place I fitted. If
real freedom existed, this was my one shot at it.

So, what was my choice? A simple life of happiness with people who
didn’t care one iota for who I was or my burdens? Or a life of secrecy, danger,
and an endless thankless mission to try and make the world a better place? A
mission that could see names on walls and friends locked in their own
purgatory.

“I ain’t gonna let you give up,” I whispered through the wall,
praying she’d hear me, somewhere. “I’ll get you out. I’ll keep you safe.”

With that, my mind was made and I headed back to the cabin. First
stop would be Hal at nine o’clock sharp.

Chapter 20

THE DOOR TO the café had one of those bells above it that jingled
as I headed into the warmth. I stood looking up at it and not remembering
hearing the sound before. I would have noticed it, I knew I would have.

“Earl fixed it
finally
last night,” Martha informed me.

I turned to look at her and the bustling café. The crossed ski and
hammer on the wall caught my eye again. “Thank cotton for that. Thought I
needed to go back to the—”

I clamped my mouth shut.

Not a good idea. The last thing I needed was to go spilling my
guts about being an inmate.

Martha didn’t seem to notice me cutting my sentence. She flitted
about the customers like one of those honey bees but less cranky. I followed
her path through the place. The pioneer flavor washed over me. She matched the
décor. Hard working, kind-hearted, and hardy. Her red hair was all curls and
tucked under one of those nets that catering folk wore. Her uniform was a white
shirt and black skirt with an apron hung over the front—the same symbol of that
hammer and ski like an emblem. As I watched her bustling between the tables and
booths, I could see the energy she left in her wake. Happy energy, a maternal
energy.

She reminded me a lot of Nan in that way, which was why I really
didn’t want to cause no trouble in her café. I could pretty much hit most of
the witnesses as they gathered for breakfast but there was no way I could go
around touching folk without people starting to get the “eebies,” as Nan would call
them.

Martha tilted her head in Hal’s direction as she hurried by, just
in case I missed the wide-brimmed hat on the counter next to him. The doctor
was sitting in a booth down from Hal, stooped over like he’d fall asleep in his
breakfast at any second. Over from him, in a booth next to the window, were the
two gossiping ladies from the other day.

I reached into my pocket and pulled out the list of witnesses that
Martha had made for me. Marie Salter and Grace Teller, which one was which I
didn’t have one iota. They were muttering some dark mutterings. I didn’t catch
much apart from “Hal, James, and that odd woman.” I pretty much guessed who
“she” was with the glare shot my way. At least somebody thought I was a freak.
I was starting to wonder if I’d woken up in another reality.

“Hey, Aeron!”

Mark waved like a madman at me from the back table and I went to
him.

“You doing okay?” he asked, his chestnut hair flopping down into
his eyes. He was the guy who’d seen me crashing about in the car when Renee and
I stopped. The thought made me smile. I liked him, even if he did remind me of
Sam. “You got enough wood?”

“Martha and Earl are looking after me,” I said, wondering why he
was asking such a strange question.

His aura flickered and jumped about as though he wanted to say
something different to what was coming out of his mouth.

“This is Simon.” He slapped the man opposite him on the shoulder.
“He’s my cousin . . . I mean, St. Jude’s is small so technically everybody’s
related.” His laugh sounded like he wanted to crawl into a corner and hide, but
his mouth had taken over. “Anyway . . .”

“What’s up?” I asked, hoping I could help put him out of his
misery.

He ushered me over further, his greeny-grey eyes full of worry.
“It’s just . . .” He scratched the back of his neck. Then he sighed. “How is
Serena?”

“They won’t let me see her,” I said, smiling at him. Why he was
nervous about asking that, I didn’t know. “Last time I did was just after and
she wasn’t holding up too well.”

He hung his head. “I’m so sorry. I mean, she doesn’t seem like the
kind to go shooting people for no reason.”

“She isn’t.” My tone was blunt. I wanted there to be no illusions.

He rubbed his sizable mitts together and peeked up at me through
his floppy fringe. “
You
holding up okay?”

A part of me wanted to ask, “why all the small talk?” but he was
trying to be nice. I needed to remember that some folks could be genuinely
concerned. “I’ll be better when I get her out.”

“You think they will release her?” Simon, the guy next to him,
whispered. I turned to him, and he flicked his gaze to out of the window and
his aura leapt a mile.

“You see something?” I asked him.

His aura flickered again.

“No, I didn’t see anything.” Simon got to his feet. “I gotta . . .
I gotta go.” He fled from the table, making the quickest retreat that I had
ever seen.

Both Mark and I stared on after him. Simon’s aura looked like
whitewash, his exit was so hasty.

“There something with fangs on his seat?” I peered down at the
deep brown leather half-expecting to see a nasty critter lurking there.

Mark sighed and grabbed his coffee mug. “He has . . . well, he’s
had a hard time.” He slumped down into his seat and looked about as fed up as
one guy could be. “You can’t choose your family.”

“Amen to that.” I sat opposite him, staring up at the skis
dangling overhead. He needed to say something and I needed to listen. No matter
how much I was distracted.

I glanced at Hal who was still munching away and chatting with
Earl and Ronny around the corner bar from him. I guess I had some time before
he left and I couldn’t figure as to how I could touch him without him thinking
I was crazy.

Maybe the shiny countertop would work. I looked at all the folks
leaning on it. Then again, maybe not. 

“I guess Martha told you that Brad is family too?”

Nodding, I brought my attention back to Mark. “Yeah, I feel for
you there.”

“He’s got a nasty temper,” Mark said. His grip on his coffee mug
tightened until the tips of his fingers turned white. “He is used to getting
what he wants.”

That, I had no doubt of. There seemed to be one in every town. At
least Sam had been a charming homicidal jerk. Brad was just, well, a jerk. “And
no doubt his brother is the same.”

“Worse, Seth has got a screw loose.” Mark drained his coffee cup
and I thought about reaching out to touch his hand, pretending I only wanted to
stop him leaving. Icy cold jolted up my back and I leapt up until my knees
clattered the underside of the table.

“You alright there?” he asked. He was trying so hard to keep the
grin from his face and failing as I rubbed my throbbing knees.

“Shiver,” I said and muttered a cuss under my breath Nan’s way.
“Still thawing out after the other day.”

“You were awesome,” he said. His eyes twinkled in a way that made
me clear my throat. “Don’t know just how you managed it.”

“Dumb luck,” I admitted, hoping he would quit the praise before my
cheeks turned crimson.

“Uh uh.” He waved his hand with a flourish, his grin wide. “No
way. You were like a pro.”

I ain’t so good at being complimented, especially when the real
credit should have been going to Renee. I shrugged.

“I gotta go,” Mark said, setting down his mug. “But I’m sorry
about Brad and I’m sorry that guy upset Serena so bad.” His aura wriggled
around again and I tried not to stare at it. “I guess that some guys won’t let
the women they marry go.”

I knew I was looking at him dumb as he frowned.

“The guy she shot,” Mark said, echoing my frown. “I guessed from
the way she reacted to Brad the other night and the shooting that maybe . . .”
He rubbed his hand over the back of his neck again. “Ah, hell . . . I just mean
. . . I assumed—”

“She was a battered wife?”

Mark nodded, and I bit my lip to stop from righting his
misconception. It wasn’t my place to go blurting out Renee’s private life.
Maybe it was better if the folks in town thought that, at least for now.

He got to his feet and we said our good-byes before I focused on
Hal as he chomped away. Mark was easy to talk to, he had an easy way about him,
a confidence that let him communicate openly. He was a cool guy. Hal was tied
up tighter than a Puritan at a party and his energy was riddled with pockets of
fear, regret, and bitterness.

I hadn’t seen the darker side of his aura before, he’d seemed like
a pretty nervous but simple guy. The new information wasn’t going to make my
job any easier. Negative energies were like walls. They stopped the person from
getting out and healing and they stopped anyone getting in and lifting them out
of the dark space.

The flash of an aircraft nearly knocked me clean off my feet and I
clung to the brown leather barstool next to Hal to stop from collapsing.

“Okay?” He grunted my way. The leave-me-be-to-eat vibe pulsed from
him.

“You any good with planes?” I asked, hoping
that that’s what the flash meant. Thank cotton, his face unscrunched and he
smiled.

“Sure thing,” he said. “What can I do for you?”

Great. Where was I gonna go with this one? I had to think of
something to ask, something plane-wise . . .
anything
.

“When I was in the military,” I said, hoping I sounded in the
least bit convincing, “I used to see these planes all the time . . . They were
so awesome.” I tried to focus on the flash. “Matte grey, beautiful things.”

Hal was with me as if I was describing a work of art or the best
food I ever tasted.

“Jump jet, I think,” I said, getting a name. “Thing is, can’t
remember what they were called.”

“A Harrier,” Hal said, his eyes so intense that I was sure he was
speaking about a true love. “The AV-8B . . . Subsonic attack aircraft, designed
by McDonnell Douglas.” His aura shimmered, his half-eaten food long forgotten.
“First in service in the 60s. A modification entered service in ’85.”

The man sounded like he was being possessed. So much so that I
looked for the leech creature that fed on people with such afflictions but
there was none. Nope, just crazy.

“It took off straight up in the air. Only aircraft I ever seen
doing it.” I really prayed that was a real thing they could do. To me, planes
needed runways. I’d never even been on one so what did I know.

“Yes,” Hal purred. “A Rolls Royce Pegasus Turbofan engine.” He was
almost drooling. “Vector thrust gives them the capability of vertical take-off
and landing.”

“Er . . . so that’s what they are?” I asked, kinda freaked out by
his glazed expression.

“Oh, yeah.” He was now like a puppy dog. His eyes and aura opened
up and he leaned on one fist. “You got to see one?”

“Yup,” I lied. “Never got to fly one or nothin’ though.”

“You fly?”

I shook my head. I was pretty sure that there were no cockpits big
enough for me.

“I always wanted to fly,” Hal said. “Wish I could have.”

“Can I ask why you didn’t?”

He sighed. “Twenty-twenty is a must . . . even with surgery I
ain’t got perfect vision.” He lowered his voice. “Sure enough I got sharp
enough eyes that I can be a deputy.” He stared down at his food. “But not
pilot’s eyes.”

“You think about commercial?” I asked. “Sure you ain’t got perfect
sight but there must be some kind of flying you can do?”

“Not with my schooling,” he said, his southern accent oozing out
of him now. I figured it for Louisiana way.

“You miss home?” I asked. Not sure why I was heading off the
subject that he was happy with.

“I miss home something fierce sometimes,” he said. “But there
ain’t no place for me there.”

I was about to reach out to touch his hand to feign comfort but
something loud clattered from behind and we turned around. One of the two
ladies, either Marie or Grace, stomped out of the door. The bell almost jumped
off its hook with the ferocity.

Hal tensed up once more and he grabbed for his hat. “I gotta head
off,” he mumbled, clambering off the stool and making a break for the door.

I sighed, catching Martha’s eye as she came around the counter.

“You get what you need?”

I rubbed my hand over my aching neck muscles. “Nope. Storming Sue
foiled my plans.”

Martha chuckled. “Oh don’t mind her. It was Marie . . . she hates
any
woman talking to Hal.”

That explained the fireworks. “I’m not sure I can get him so open
again. He’s a funny guy.”

Martha went to reach for the discarded plate and I held up my
hand. Maybe cutlery would work the same way as jewelry. It was metal, it had
touched his skin.

Worth a shot.
I folded a napkin around the knife.

“You think I could borrow your sofa?” I asked. “Not really sure
how I’ll react and I don’t want a fit in public.”

“You have fits?”

Uh oh. I turned to see that the doctor had woken from his stupor
and was peering at me with that doctor gaze, which made me hunch my shoulders.

“I’m fine.” I raised my hands like he had a gun. “I just get over
tired.”

“Having fits is serious.” His eyes narrowed in scrutiny. How come
doctors could make you feel like a specimen in a jar with just a look? “Maybe I
should check you over.”