Hard (18 page)

CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN

Sunday afternoon, Lindy sat at the small table in her kitchen, staring at her computer but seeing nothing. It had been the same since Friday night when an accidental phone call had left her speechless and afraid.

Treble had called her Friday, just after ten in the morning, wanting to take her to lunch. She wanted to go but had to decline because she had scheduled an eleven-thirty appointment with the HVAC contractor to find out why the toddler’s room was always so cold and then she had to get the payroll out.

The rest of the Friday was blur and she didn’t think about him again until six-thirty, when she fell into her car, mentally exhausted from her day. She had just snapped her seatbelt when her phone rang. She dug in her purse a moment, smiling as she saw the number on the phone. Her smile grew larger as she heard traffic noises along with the odd sounds that always come from a butt dial. She listened a moment, calling hello, and was about to hang up when she heard it, the sounds of a person, probably a man, begging for his life.

At first she thought it was a prank, but the man sounded so terrified she couldn’t put the phone down.

“Please! Please don’t kill me!” the man blubbered.

There was movement then a
pop
of flesh on flesh. “You didn’t worry about killing anyone when you threw that fucking block off the bridge, you sick, mother-fucking, son-of-a-bitch!” another man snarled.

“I didn’t mean to kill anyone! I swear!” the first voice said.

“Well, you did. A thirteen year old girl,” another voice, different than the others but just as full of steel and malice said. “Made the news. Maybe you saw it. Did it give you a hard-on, knowing you what you did?”

“No! I swear! I didn’t do it!”

“You just said you didn’t mean to kill anyone. Now you say you didn’t do it, but we catch you up here with a cinder block. Seems to me you need to get your story straight,” Treble said, his voice frighteningly calm.

“I found that! It was already up here! I was taking it off the bridge so it didn’t accidently fall onto the cars!”

“Uh-huh,” Treble grunted. “Let’s get this shit over with.”

“No!”
the man screamed, and Lindy could hear the sounds of a struggle, the man screaming and begging for his life. A moment later she heard Treble grunt, the scream of the man’s voice, then the shriek of skidding tires, crashing cars, and blaring horns. She sat, stunned, her phone gripped tight in her hand, afraid to say anything, wanting to hang up but unable to.

“Let’s get the fuck out of here,” one of the voices said and moment later she heard the sounds of three motorcycles starting. She pushed the button to end the call and sat in her car, barely breathing, wondering if she had actually heard what she thought she had.

Her worst fears were later confirmed as she searched the internet for any information on what she heard. The local news stations had splashed on their websites that a man had been killed after he fell from an interstate overpass and struck by a passing semi. Police were investigating, but the report said physical evidence at the scene indicated that the man might have been the one responsible for throwing concrete blocks from overpasses into the traffic below. She thought about calling the police and telling them what she heard, but decided that if Treble was capable of killing a man in cold blood, it would be better if he didn’t know she knew.

He had called her later Friday evening, but she ignored the call, allowing it to go to voicemail. When he called her Saturday, she felt she had to answer, afraid he would come to her apartment looking for her if she didn’t, but she put him off, cold and aloof. He had picked up on her mood and by the time the call was over, she said she had decided not to see him again but refused to tell him why. He finally hung up in a huff.

That should have been that, but while the logical side of her mind said she was making the right decision, the more emotional side was saying something different. She didn’t love Treble, but she did like him, and she was having a hard time wrapping her head around the fact that he could be a stone-cold killer. It just didn’t seem to fit him, and the dichotomy was making her crazy.

She
knew
what she heard, and the news reports had confirmed it, but something just didn’t add up and she couldn’t put her finger on what it was. Part of it was Treble’s mood when he called. He had seemed subdued, much more so than she had ever seen him, and when she had cut him off at the knees, he seemed more upset that she wouldn’t tell him why than anything else. It was almost like he was concerned he had done something wrong and, to her mind, that didn’t fit the cold-blooded killer profile she had in her head. He had finally accepted her rejection and, though clearly annoyed, he hadn’t threatened or condemned her in any way.

She had been obsessing over the news of the man all weekend, flipping between channels on the television and scouring the internet for new information. There hadn’t been anything new reported since Saturday evening, but before the talking heads moved on to other events, they reported that the police now believed that the man was the person responsible for throwing concrete blocks from overpasses into traffic below, one of which had killed a young girl, and they believed that he had fallen to this death while attempting to drop another.

She remembered the news about the girl being killed, though that was at least two months ago. She had forgotten about it until now, but that tidbit of information had only made her confusion worse because, as far as she was concerned, anyone who would do that deserved anything they got.

She snapped her laptop closed and stood. It was only two, but she was leaving early to go to her parents for dinner because the seamstress was bringing Bridget’s wedding gown and all the bridesmaids’ dresses for final fitting. She knew she should be bouncing off the walls with excitement for Bridget, but what she had heard weighted heavily on her.

Taking a deep breath she marched into her bedroom, picked up her bag and stomped out of her apartment.
You just need to let it go!
she snarled to herself.
It was fun while it lasted, but you don’t need to be mixed up in something like that! So get your shit together, girl!

“Hey, Mom,” Lindy said quietly. Despite the thorough reaming she gave herself on the way to her mom and dad’s, her mood hadn’t improved.

“Kathy should be here in about ten minutes,” her mother said cheerfully as she and Lindy settled into two comfortable chairs. “Since you’re the first one here, she can start with you.”

“Okay, great. Where’s Dad?”

Leigh Willis grinned. “He said he was going to go to Lowe’s to drive some nails into his head because that would be much more fun than hanging around while bunch of women tried on dresses.”

Lindy barked out a laugh. “Smart man.”

“He has his moments.” She paused, looking at Lindy. “Everything okay, honey?” Leigh Willis was a no-nonsense woman who was still beautiful at fifty-one, and she could still read her daughter like an open book.

Lindy smiled.
There is no fooling Mom.
“Yeah. Just tired. Number three is kicking my ass.”

“Lindy!” Leigh scolded. “Language.”

Lindy rolled her eyes. “Butt, then?”

“That’s better, but how about bottom?”

“Because it isn’t kicking my bottom; it’s kicking my ass. It’s just one crisis after another.”

Leigh twittered then smiled. “I know. It’s always that way getting a new campus open. Don’t think your dad and I don’t appreciate you taking the bull by the horns on this. Next week the wedding will be behind us and then maybe we can take some stuff off your plate. You’ve done great, though. I knew you would,” Leigh said as she touched her youngest daughter lovingly on the shoulder. “But are you sure that’s all it is?”

Lindy frowned slightly.
How does she always know when it’s me, but can’t tell with Bridget? “
Yeah, pretty much. There is just so much going on. I will be glad when I can go back to Chapel Hill so I can get some rest.”

Her mother twittered out another laugh. “Come on! It’s not that bad, is it?”

“Pretty bad.”

“If you can hang on for another week, I’ll come take over and you can have the rest of the summer off. Fair?”

“Wow…two whole weeks!”

Leigh looked at Lindy and realized how much they had placed on her young shoulders. “I know. It’s not fair what we asked from you. We’ll try to make it up to you.”

Lindy smiled and touched Leigh’s hand. “It’s okay, Mom, don’t worry about it. I’m just going through a rough patch right now. Once Bridget’s wedding is over, things will settle down.”

“God, I hope so! I can’t take much more of this,” Leigh said just as the doorbell rang. She gave Lindy’s hand a squeeze and smiled as she stood. “That’s probably Kathy, right on time.”

CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT

“Bridget, hold still!” Kathy fussed as the woman in the dress squirmed. She had checked the fit on all the bridesmaids’ dresses, and was finishing up with the wedding gown.

“Sorry,” Bridget mumbled as she became still. She felt like ants were crawling on her, but it wasn’t the fabric that was making her feel itchy. It was Stiles or, more accurately, her lack of ability to contact Stiles.

She didn’t understand what had happened. She had left his arms in the wee hours of Friday morning, returning to Terry’s house before he returned from the hospital, and that was the last time she had seen or spoken to him. She expected him to call her and tell her he was ready to leave, or at least ready to discuss their options. But there had been nothing.

“Here. What do you think?” Kathy asked, stepping back while holding a full-length mirror.

“You look beautiful, baby girl,” Henry Willis, her father said. He had returned from his errands while Bridget was standing on a short step stool as Kathy fussed around the bottom. “We’re so proud of you.”

“Yeah, proud,” Bridget murmured as her dad helped her step off the stool. She looked at herself in the mirror as her mother flipped her veil over her face. She fought against her tears with everything she had, but, despite her efforts, they began to leak from her eyes.

“Bridget? What’s wrong?” Leigh asked.

“Nothing,” Bridget said with a sniff, still trying to stop the tears. “I’m just overwhelmed, I guess. The dress, it makes me realize what I’m about to do.”

Henry rolled his eyes as he looked at Lindy, grinning as she wiped a tear from her own eye. “Women! You cry when you’re happy, you cry when you’re sad…no wonder men can’t figure you out!”

Lindy sniffed and giggled briefly. “An enigma, surrounded by a puzzle, wrapped in a mystery.”

“Well, your Dad’s right. You look beautiful,” Leigh said with a smile. She was so proud of Bridget. She had worried on long sleepless nights what would become of her eldest daughter. She was a good girl, if a little wild, always more interested in boys than settling down. She had made it through school, but had never applied herself. Marrying and starting her own family would mature her, and Terry was a good man, kind, caring, patient and strong. He would also be good for her, showing her there is more to life than having fun.

“And Terry is such a
dream boat…
”
Tomi said, doing a perfect nineteen-fifties teenager impersonation, complete with cocked head, clasped hands and batting eyes, causing everyone in the room except Bridget to burst into laughter.

“And
rich!
”
Belle added, getting in on the fun.

“And taking her to
Italy!
”
Madison added. “Don’t spend all your time in the villa.”

Lindy grinned as her mother pursed her lips in disapproval, but Leigh said nothing.

“No, I think you
should
spend all your time in the villa. I know I would!” Nicole added.

“You girls are awful,” Leigh scolded gently, but Lindy could tell she wasn’t really upset. It was the part she had played her entire life with her daughters’ friends, the part of the oh-so polite and proper southern belle. But Lindy knew there was more to her mother than that carefully crafted persona, having heard her cry out in passion late in the night on more than one occasion.

“Hey! We’re living vicariously through Bridget,” Tomi protested. “I need something to keep me warm at night.”

Bridget listened to the banter around her.
If they only knew,
she thought. The dress was beautiful, making her look like a princess, but she had to force her smile. “It’s wonderful, Kathy. Thank you so much.”

“I’m glad to do it,” Kathy replied, setting the mirror aside. “It’s the least I could do for the daughter of my best friend,” she said with a smile. “I hope Ashley settles down some day and I can make a dress for her.”

“She will, Kathy. Don’t worry,” Leigh said. “I used to say the same thing about Bridget, and now look,” she said, her smile softening even more as she turned her gaze to Bridget.

Bridget hated the way her mother looked at her, her pride clear in her face. Her dad’s, too.
I’m marrying a doctor! So fucking what!
she raged to herself as she carefully began to remove the dress, her father scurrying from the room the minute she began to unzip the back.
As soon as I find Stiles, I’m gone, and I won’t have to see that look again.

But finding him, that was a problem! She had driven by SkinMusic several times since Friday, hoping to see lights on, but the parlor had always been dark, the closed sign on display, and, most troubling, her calls were being ignored. It was like he had fallen off the face of the earth.

She carefully removed the dress and handed it to her mother to hang while she put on her street clothes. As she pulled on her shorts she plotted to escape her family and their traditional Sunday dinner, but she knew it was impossible. Terry would be joining them this week, as he did occasionally, and that was making the situation even more stressful.
If I could just find Stiles!

Bridget poked at her food, trying to act cheerful and upbeat, but she felt like she wasn’t fooling anyone. The two men were seated at the ends of the dining table with the three women arrayed between, her mother seated near her father and Bridget near Terry. Lindy sat on the opposite side alone. Spread on the table before them was the remains of their meal, roast beef with potatoes and carrots, rolls, and Terry’s favorite: Leigh’s frozen caramel pie.

“Is something bothering you two?” Leigh asked, looking first at Lindy then Bridget. “You two didn’t have a fight or something did you?”

Lindy looked at Bridget then her mother. “No, why?”

“I just have the feeling that something is off, with both of you.”

Bridget shrugged and forced a smile. “At least I have an excuse.”

“What’s that?” Lindy asked.

“Wedding?” Bridget said, her tone biting.

“Nothing to be nervous about,” Terry said softly, placing his hand on hers. “No matter what happens, it won’t change how much I love you. So long as we get to the ‘I do’ part, I’ll be happy. Quit worrying. It’s going to be fine.”

“Yeah,” Lindy added, annoyed with her sister’s attitude. “Then you’re going off to Italy to relax.” She wanted to remind Bridget that she was the one stuck here, busting her ass all summer, but that wasn’t her fault so she held her tongue.

“Right,” Terry agreed. “There’s only one more week then this will all be behind us.” He leaned over and she met him halfway for a kiss. “You’re the one who wanted the big wedding,” he reminded her. “I would have been perfectly willing to go to the justice of the peace.”

“Me, too,” Henry said with grin.

“Henry, stop it,” Leigh said, scowling at her husband. “A girl deserves to be married in a church if she wants to be.”

“I sometimes wonder if this is a mistake.” Bridget’s quiet comment silenced the entire table as all eyes stared at her. Realizing what she had said she blushed. “I just mean all the fuss and money. Maybe we should have just done a small wedding.”

“Don’t worry about it, honey,” Leigh said patting Bridget’s hand. “I know you’re stressed out right now, but like Terry said, so long as you get to ‘I do,’ nothing else really matters. You’ll be beautiful up there, and you’ll cherish these memories for the rest of your life.”

“I know,” Bridget said, unable to meet her mother’s eyes. All the talk of the wedding was making her feel sick, her stomach churning.
I should give up Stiles and make the best of my life with Terry! Why can’t I do what is right?
As she stared at her plate she realized how right Stiles was when he predicted she was going to hurt a lot of people, people she cared a great deal about. There were going to be no winners in this…all because of her. Bridget forced her head up and she smiled. “You’re right. I know I’m just being silly. What can go wrong?”

“Oh hell, don’t say that!” her father chuckled. “Remember the girl who set her hair on fire at our wedding?” Henry said with a big grin, looking at his wife.

“What?” Lindy squawked.

“Serving cake at the reception a friend of your mom’s…what was her name…?”

“Lisa Maher,” Leigh supplied.

“Yeah! That was her! Anyway, she was serving cake and somehow she got her hair in one of the candles. One of the other girls saw it happen and put it out with a napkin. Thankfully nobody was hurt, but oh my god, did that stink. Have you ever smelled burning hair?”

Henry was well known for having more yarns than a sweater factory so every looked to Leigh for confirmation. “It happened,” she nodded, causing everyone to laugh. “But we’re just as married and, though I was horrified at the time, now I look back on that and laugh. It’s all part of the good memories. You will be that way too, Bridget. No matter what happens, you will look back on this and realize how you were getting all worked up for nothing.”

“Just don’t set your hair on fire,” Terry said with a grin. “I would much rather spend my honeymoon in Italy than at the burn unit.”

Lindy grinned at Bridget, her own troubles momentarily forgotten. “If you do set yourself on fire, can I go to Italy in your place?”

Bridget sneered playfully at her sister as she rubbed at her cheek with her middle finger extended and the others folded down.

Leigh watched as the banter and laughter played around her, not missing the subtle “fuck you” Bridget gave Lindy. The idea that Bridget thought she was sneaking something past her made her smile. She wasn’t nearly as naïve as her daughters thought she was, but she never let on that she was wise to their games.

That’s more like it,
she said to herself as Lindy stuck her tongue out at Bridget, Bridget returning the favor a moment later. Then Terry stuck his tongue out, first at Lindy and then Bridget, before both girls stuck their tongue back out at him. As he was still sticking his tongue out at Bridget he leaned over, and she again met him halfway for quick kiss. Leigh’s smile widened.
This is more like it, indeed.