Her Sister's Shoes (28 page)

Sam’s sharp intake of breath caused her to choke on her food. Eli slapped her back, then handed her the glass of iced tea he’d poured for her. “You killed someone?” she asked, when she was able to talk again.

“I now know it was an accident. But let me start from the beginning. I was the starting inside linebacker for my high school varsity team. It was my junior year, and college coaches from every division were recruiting me.” Eli caught Sam sizing him up. “I may not be very tall, but I am strong and fast, even more so back then.”

He took a sip of iced tea and licked his lips. “Anyway, we were playing against this prep school from North Carolina. Their quarterback handed the ball off to the running back and I tackled him, a perfectly legal tackle. I didn’t ram my helmet into his or anything like that. But the kid hit the ground hard, and the force of the blow killed him on impact. I learned later that he already had a concussion no one knew about. But at the time, as I watched the paramedics wheel his body off the field, all I could think about was that I’d taken another person’s life, a kid who’d barely begun to live.

“My parents made me go to the funeral, which did little to ease my guilt.”

Sam set her dinner tray on the coffee table, her appetite gone. “I can’t imagine how hard that must’ve been for you.”

“I started drinking, any kind of alcohol I could get my hands on. I stole booze from my parents and my friends’ parents, and when I still wasn’t drunk enough, I paid the bums outside of the liquor store to buy me pints of cheap bourbon. I started skipping class, then I stopped going to school altogether, and before I knew it, I was flunking every one of my courses.

“My parents finally shipped me off to rehab, where I stayed for three days. I took money out of a nurse’s wallet, got my hands on a bottle of booze, and hopped on the next bus headed to Nowhere, New Mexico. I passed out before I got to Atlanta, and woke up in a dumpster in Nashville, Tennessee. I’d been raped and beaten within an inch of my life.”

Sam’s mouth formed the word
raped
but no sound came out.

He looked away in shame.

She placed a hand on his shoulder, encouraging him to continue. “What did you do then?”

“I called Kyle, who boarded the next plane to Nashville. He rented a furnished apartment, and for the next month, he stayed by my side. He nursed me while I detoxed, held me when I cried out in my sleep. He listened and he counseled. He helped me understand that Alexander Brooks’s death was not my fault. He helped me find my way again.”

Sam dabbed at her eyes with her napkin. “Did you ever play football again?”

Eli shook his head. “I never went back to high school. I got my GED, moved to New York City, and joined the police academy.”

This surprised Sam. She’d always assumed Eli had gone to college before becoming a policeman. She had no idea he’d lived anywhere other than South Carolina. “Why New York?”

He shifted on the sofa to face her. “Over sixty thousand homeless people live in New York, many of them kids who have lost their way. As a police officer, I was in a position to help them, to keep them out of harm’s way and find them shelter whenever possible.”

“Why did you decide to move back to South Carolina?”

“I came home to be with Kyle after his accident.”

“So you returned the favor.”

“I didn’t do it because of any debt of gratitude. Although I was plenty grateful to him for saving my life. We take care of each other. That’s what families do. I don’t need to tell you that. Look what you’ve done for Faith.”

“I haven’t done a very good job of taking care of Faith. I’ve basically fallen apart on her.” Sam could admit it. She just couldn’t stop it. She’d listened to Eli describe how alcohol nearly destroyed his life, yet she still felt tempted by the bottles of rum and gin and vodka on the bar across the room.

“Don’t you think some of what you’re experiencing is fallout from Jamie’s accident?” he asked. “Not just the surgery, but watching him suffer over the death of his best friend, and seeing him struggle to walk again. You’ve been through hell and back, Sam. Most women in your shoes would’ve cracked a long time ago. All your life, you’ve been strong for everyone else. Now it’s time to let them be strong for you. Let me help you, Sam.” He tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “I think your alcohol abuse is out of control.”

She knocked his hand away. “I can quit anytime I want to.”

“You’re in denial,” he said, shaking his head in disbelief. “You have no idea how many alcoholics have said that very same thing to me. Most of them have not lived long enough to prove it.”

Sam jumped to her feet. “I plan on living long enough to prove it to you. But I can’t prove it to you until you put Curtis behind bars. You do your job, Eli. Then I’ll do mine.” She stomped off toward the stairs, stopping long enough to grab her bottle of vodka from the bar along the way.

Thirty-Five

Faith

F
aith woke from
a fitful sleep to the sound of the dogs barking, relentless and ferocious.

Curtis
.

She slipped on her robe and scurried down the stairs to the game room. Through the french doors, she spotted Mack, pinned up against the side of the guest cottage by the barking dogs.

She punched in the alarm code on the keypad beside the door. “Felix, Oscar, heel,” she commanded, and the dogs darted to her side. She bent down to pet them. “Morning,” she said to Mack. “I didn’t know you were coming over so early.”

He loosened his grip on the shotgun he clutched in the crook of his arm. “Actually, I never left last night.”

She noticed his windbreaker rolled into a pillow on the wooden bench beside the door. “Did you sleep on that bench?”

He shrugged. “It didn’t feel right leaving, after what happened to Sam yesterday.”

“You mean you’ve been here all this time and the dogs are just now noticing you?”

He chuckled. “Some guard dogs. They sniffed and licked me all during the night, then for some reason turned on me this morning.”

“They’re just mad at you for not feeding them,” she said. “Let me get them some food and I’ll fix us some coffee.”

She was in the garage scooping dry kibble into giant-size bowls when Eli wandered down the driveway. “Out for a stroll so early?” she called.

He shook his head. “I thought I’d run Sam’s car over to our shop, to see if they can get some of this paint off.” He ran his hand over the paint-splattered door. “You don’t happen to know where I might find her keys, do you?”

Mack removed a set of keys from his pocket and tossed them to Eli. “I took these from her last night. Not that she was in any condition to drive.”

“That was smart thinking,” Eli said.

Faith replaced the lid on the dog food container. “Mack and I were just going upstairs for some coffee. Care to join us?” she asked Eli.

He glanced at his watch. “Sure, why not? Technically I’m not on duty for another hour.”

“Are you working the early shift this week?” Faith asked.

“No. I put in for overtime. Whether I get paid or not, I plan to work around the clock until Curtis is behind bars.”

“That’s awfully generous of you, Eli. I don’t know how to thank you.”

He smiled. “I’ll settle for that cup of coffee.”

“Then what are we waiting for,” Faith said, and the two men followed her upstairs. When they each had a steaming mug in hand, Faith suggested they go out on the porch. “They’re forecasting a scorcher. We might as well get some fresh air while we can.”

Once they were settled in the rocking chairs, Mack asked Eli, “Any leads on Curtis’s whereabouts?”

“Yes. Well, sort of.” Eli glanced nervously at Faith. “We found his bike, what is now a wrecked pile of metal, out by the Road House last night.”

“I’m not surprised he was slumming it out there, considering the hooligans they’ve got hanging around,” Mack said.

“Based on our intel, he arrived there sometime after eleven. When one of our patrolmen spotted the bike at two this morning, Curtis was long gone and no one admitted to having seen him.”

“Naturally,” Faith said. “I wonder if he’s hurt.”

Eli stopped rocking and shifted to the right to face her. “We checked the hospital, but no one matching Curtis’s description has been brought in.”

“With any luck, he’s permanently incapacitated,” Mack muttered.

Eli pointed at him. “You said it, not me.” He turned back to Faith. “We know his friends are covering for him, but I promise you, we are doing everything we can to find him, in spite of our limited resources.”

She leaned her head back against the rocker. “I know you are. I just worry it’s not enough.”

“We all have to pitch in and do our part.” Mack stroked his shotgun beside him. “Me and my Beretta are gonna camp out here until the crisis is over.”

“I feel better knowing you’re here,” Eli said. “Just be careful not to shoot the wrong person.”

Mack cackled. “You don’t have to worry about that. But if I get a clear shot of Curtis, I can’t promise you I’ll hold back.”

Faith buried her face in her hands. “God, Mack. Things are bad enough without you playing vigilante.”

“I hate to bring up a sore subject,” Eli said, “but I’m worried Sam’s drinking has gotten out of control.”

“I agree,” Faith said. “I know she’s under a lot of pressure, but …”

“Have you seen all the booze that’s in the cottage?” Eli asked. “It’s too much temptation for someone so vulnerable.”

Faith’s eyes narrowed. “I didn’t realize that. As soon as Jamie gets up, we’ll get it out of there.”

“Do you know what Bill’s plans are for the kids today?” Eli asked. “I heard him say something to them about going out in the boat, but I’m not sure that’s such a good idea.”

No one had mentioned it, but everyone seemed to know that Jackie and Bill had split up, and he was no longer living at the house.

“A friend of Bill’s owns a private beach over close to the mouth of the inlet,” Faith said. “It’s pretty well hidden, and Curtis doesn’t know about the place, but if you don’t think they should go …”

Eli considered Faith’s comments, and said, “If that’s the case, it’s probably all right. The kids need the fresh air anyway.”

“Even if it’s so hot you can barely catch your breath,” Faith said.

They finished their coffee in silence, rocking back and forth, watching an osprey fly in circles over the creek, searching for food. The osprey made its dive and headed off over the marsh with a fish in its mouth.

Faith thought back to all the sunrises she’d seen from her bedroom window in the cottage next door. “I miss this, watching nature come alive in the mornings.”

“I see it every day,” Mack said, “but I never take it for granted. The beauty of our inlet keeps me honest.”

Eli clinked his coffee mug against Mack’s. “Well said, my friend.” He stood to leave. “I need to be on my way. Thanks for the coffee, Faith.”

Mack got up and stretched. “I’ll walk you out. I’m gonna run home and get my things while everyone’s still asleep.”

Mack and Eli had no sooner backed out of the driveway when a flaming-red sports car came zooming in. A giant black man, who could only be Moses based on Sam’s description of him, climbed out.

The cottage door swung open and Jamie wheeled out into the driveway. “I didn’t mean for you to drive all the way out here.”

“I couldn’t ignore your message, buddy.” Moses mussed Jamie’s hair. “You sounded so worried.”

Faith stopped rocking. She hated to spy on her nephew, but she was more than a little curious why he’d sent out an SOS to his physical therapist.

“Mom’s having a hard time,” Jamie said. “And I don’t know how to help her.”

Faith heard only some of Jamie’s depiction of the incident in the parking lot at the Harris Teeter.

“My mom has never been much of a drinker. It’s like she’s become an alcoholic overnight.”

“Some people handle stress better than others.” Moses placed a hand on Jamie’s shoulder. “Your mom is one tough lady, but everyone has their breaking point. She’s a single parent, responsible for her family’s business. The months since your accident have been hard on her, and now there’s a maniac running around trashing her house and throwing paint in her face. Frankly, I’m surprised she hasn’t cracked before now.”

“What can I do to help her?” Jamie asked.

“Tell her you’re worried about her. Be strong for her. Let her cry on your shoulder for a change. And whatever you do, keep the alcohol away from her as much as possible.”

“That’s easier said than done. My aunt has stocked the bar in there”—Jamie aimed his thumb over his shoulder at the guest cottage—“with enough alcohol to fuel a wedding reception.”

“We need to get that out of there. Is there a box around here we can use?”

“There’s probably one in the garage.” Jamie wheeled off with Moses close behind him.

“Don’t worry, Jamie. This situation with your uncle can’t last forever.”

“You don’t know my uncle. He’s a greasy punk who …” Jamie’s voice trailed off as they disappeared around the corner.

Thirty-Six

Samantha

S
am spent most
of the day in bed, buried beneath a mountain of pillows, hiding from the bastard who continued to stalk her. It was late afternoon before she stumbled down the stairs to the bar.

“What the fuck,” she s
aid when s
he discovered all the bottles of booze gone.

She went to the adjoining kitchen to check the cabinets. She was so preoccupied with her search that she didn’t notice Mack sitting at the bar reading the paper.

“What’re you looking for?” he asked.

“A drink,” she said. She opened the refrigerator and found the dregs of a bottle of Chardonnay on the door. She lifted the bottle to her lips, but only a few drops trickled out.

“That’s not going to help your situation.”

“You know,”—she pointed the bottle at him—“people keep telling me that, but so far everyone’s been wrong. The alcohol helps quite a bit.”

“Maybe in the short term.” He came around the bar and took the bottle from her. “This isn’t who you are, Sammie.” He set the bottle on the counter. “Your father didn’t teach you to solve your problems by getting drunk. Where’s that spunky little girl who used to stomp her foot at her father, demanding he take her along on a deer hunt? Where’s that brave girl who challenged the great Oscar Sweeney to shooting matches, and beat him every time?”

Sam eyed Oscar’s shotgun propped up in the corner. “That’s what I need. A gun. Do you have one I can borrow? Curtis stole mine.”

“If it’ll make you feel safer, I have a handgun you can borrow.”

Sam relished the idea of having a loaded pistol as protection against that lowlife son-of-a-bitch brother-in-law. “I better not,” she said. “I might end up shooting my sister.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“I do, actually.” She held her thumb and index fingers up, about an inch apart. “At least a little bit. A part of me can’t help but blame her for dragging us into her drama.”

“Then why’d you stop Faith from running away the other night?”

“A moment of weakness, I guess.”

“You promised Faith you’d do whatever you can to keep her safe. Now you have to honor that promise. She’s not as strong as you are, Sam,” Mack said, his voice stern. He’d never spoken to her like that before—like a father, reprimanding his daughter—and it got her attention.

“That’s the problem, Mack. Everyone expects me to be strong, including you.” Her eyes filled with tears. “But I don’t have that kind of strength. How am I supposed to fight a slimeball like Curtis? He sneaks around, hiding behind cars and bushes, destroying my house and throwing paint in my face. He has total control of my life right now, and I can’t handle it. I feel so vulnerable. So alone.”

Mack reached across the counter for a napkin and handed it to her to dry her eyes. “Come on in here and let’s sit down.” He took her by the hand and dragged her over to the sofa. “First of all, you are definitely not alone in this. Your friend Eli is working on getting the paint off your car.”

She jerked her head toward him in surprise.

“And I bet you didn’t know I slept on the bench outside your front door last night, with only my shotgun to keep me warm.” He chuckled. “But with your permission, I’ll move inside tonight.” He pressed down on the cushions. “This sofa would feel a whole lot softer to an old man’s bones. I promise you, Sammie, I won’t leave your side until this thing is over.”

“Why are you doing this, Mack?”

“Because your father was my best friend, and I promised him I’d look out for his girls. You, Faith, and Jackie are like daughters to me.” He let out a long sigh. “I love your mother, too. And I’m worried about her.” His cheeks blushed. “Like a sister, you know.” He’d tried to cover for himself, but Sam knew his feelings for her mother were far from platonic.

“I’m worried about Mom too. Every day she seems more and more despondent.”

“The sooner we figure out the secret behind that rusty key of hers, the better off we’ll all be.”

After an alcohol-free evening, Sam woke the next morning with a clear head for the first time in what seemed like weeks. The aroma of coffee drifting up the stairs motivated her to get out of bed. She took a quick shower, and was searching in her mess of a suitcase for a clean pair of underwear when her cell phone rang. Her
stomach somersaulted at the sound of Roberto’s disheartened voice.

“You better get down here right away, Sam. Someone broke in over the weekend and vandalized the market.”

She threw on a pair of wrinkled khaki pants and her green Sweeney’s polo shirt, and hurried downstairs to the kitchen. Jamie was already showered and dressed and eating a bowl of Cheerios while Mack sipped on coffee at the bar.

“Curtis broke into the market. Eli still has my Jeep, Mack. Can you drive us? We don’t have time to wait for Mom and Faith.”

“I’ll come back and get them later,” he said, already heading for the front door with Jamie on his heels. “I’ll help Jamie with his chair, if you’ll alarm the cottage.”

She poured herself a cup of coffee to go, then punched in the four-digit alarm code on the keypad by the door.

“When is this gonna end?” Sam said, once they were on the road, heading toward town.

Jamie turned around to face Sam in the backseat. “No matter how bad it is, Mom, we’ll sort it out. We can deal with anything as long as none of us gets hurt.”

Sam kissed her fingertips and planted them on his cheek. “You have no idea how much I needed someone to remind me of that.”

Maybe some good would come of all their troubles, after all. Maybe, just maybe, Jamie was finally putting Corey’s death into perspective.

Three cop cars were parked haphazardly in the parking lot when they arrived at the market. Sam recognized some of the officers but didn’t see Eli.

“Excuse me for a minute,” Mack said, climbing out of his truck. “I need to have a word with Prospect’s finest.” He slammed his door and marched straight over to the group of policemen.

As soon as she entered the kitchen, she smelled disaster. Literally. The odor was worse than the inlet at low tide.

“Why is it so hot in here?” Jamie asked, fanning himself. “It must be a hundred degrees.”

“Ninety-three according to the thermostat.” Roberto pointed to the thermostat on the wall. “Whoever broke in here turned off the air conditioner and turned on the heat.”

“That explains it,” Jamie said. “It was hot as hell yesterday, and it’s going to be even hotter today.”

“The bastard flipped all the breakers except for the HVAC,” Roberto said. “All our product is ruined except a few things we had in the freezer.”

Willing herself not to cry, Sam turned to Jamie. He gave her a resigned shrug and said, “I guess we better get to work.”

“I don’t even know where to start.” Sam was considering walking out the door and never looking back, when Jamie reached for her hand.

“Remember, Mom. None of us got hurt.”

“Not this time, Jamie. Who’s to say it won’t happen the next time?”

“There are no guarantees in life. At least that’s what Moses says. We do the best we can, and pray it all works out.”

“And Moses is right,” Mack said joining them. “I read those officers the riot act. They assured me they haven’t been slacking off, but agreed there’s room for improvement. They know they have to step it up if they want to catch the slimy little weasel.”

“And just how are they planning to step it up?” Sam asked.

“By putting more men on the case for starters. And I’ve called in reinforcements as well. Bill is in surgery this morning, so I’m on my way back out to the house to get the others.”

After he left, Sam ventured to the front of the market. Circling the showroom, she estimated thousands of dollars of ruined goods. She hoped the insurance premium wasn’t among the past due notices she’d received two weeks ago. As far as she knew, all their bills were current now, although they’d had to dip into their emergency funds to pay for them. Restocking their supplies would deplete the rest of that money.

If Curtis’s goal was to ruin them, he was doing a damn fine job of it.

Sam, Roberto, and Jamie launched into action, emptying out and throwing away. With all the starving people in the world, Sam hated to waste so much food.

Mack returned thirty minutes later with his troops. Faith and Lovie surveyed the damage in silence.

“Why don’t we divide and conquer?” Mack said. “I’ll take Jamie and Sean out in the boat with me to see what we can bring in while you ladies get things in order here.”

“Be careful,” Sam said with a look of concern.

“We can try our secret crab hole,” Sean said.

Mack winked at him. “And I have a few secret holes of my own.”

As they were leaving, Evan Brewster, the owner of the local hardware store, drove up with a truck full of fans in every shape and size. “Morning, Sam.” He tipped his hat. “I understand you might be in need of some ventilation.”

“How’d you—”

“Nothing ever stays a secret for long in Prospect. You of all people should know that,” he said, smiling, his rosy cheeks glowing. Evan always played Santa in Prospect’s annual Christmas parade. He certainly looked the part, with his white hair and beard. He reached in the cab of his truck for a bottle of cleaning liquid. “This here’s the best cleaning product on the market, cuts through odors of any kind.”

Faith and Sam helped Evan unload the fans, and placed them throughout the market. With the front and back doors open for ventilation, the putrid air began to clear out.

“Call me when you’re finished with the fans, and I’ll come back and get them,” he said as he was leaving.

“Thank you, Evan.” Sam stood on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek. “All I want for Christmas is a bushel of crabs.”

He chuckled, his big belly shaking. “I’ll see what I can do.”

They worked straight through lunch, racing against the clock to sanitize the market before their new shipment of goods arrived around four. Sam was mopping the showroom floor when she noticed Donna Bennett’s sleek black Jaguar pulling up alongside the curb out front. A WSTB van, the ABC news affiliate out of Charleston, slowed to a stop behind her.

“I need to get in there!” Donna tried to push her way past the policeman standing guar
d out front, but he held her off. “Sorry, ma’am. This area’s off-limits.”

“This sidewalk is city property.” Donna jabbed her finger at the ground. “You can’t stop me from being here.”

“You’re right. I can’t stop you from standing there.” The policeman pointed at her feet. “But I can, and I will, prevent you from going inside.”

“Samantha will talk to me. We’re old friends.” Donna caught sight of Sam and waved. “There she is. Yoo hoo, Sam. Do you have a minute to speak to the press?”

Sam responded by turning her back on Donna. She wheeled her mop bucket to the back and dumped the water. When she returned, Faith was talking to Mike Neilson, the emergency room doctor who had helped their mother the night of her spell. He’d been in the market several times in recent weeks, but Faith had always been the one to wait on him. They appeared to have grown chummy.

“You remember Mike, don’t you, Sam?” Faith asked when she approached them. “He has been my rock these past few days. He’s the one who put me in touch with the shelter in Columbia.”