Lifelines: Kate's Story (47 page)

Kate
felt her way back to the landing at the back door. It took some rummaging in
the dark to find her nail file, but when she’d found it, it worked well as a
knife to cut away a section of the screen. In two minutes she had the screen
door unlatched and open.

Her
keys did work on the back door. When Evelyn changed the locks, she must have
forgotten the back door. Inside, Kate switched on the kitchen light, bracing
herself for the sight of her mother unconscious on the floor.

Like
David, behind the desk. David, who called, but she hadn’t come right away.

“Mom?
Are you home?”

Kate
searched the house. No sign of Evelyn, but when Kate opened the fridge for no
good reason she could think of, she found only empty shelves. Evelyn’s weekly
groceries came by delivery each Friday. Last week they would have come on
Thursday, because Friday was a holiday. So where was the food?

Evelyn’s
toothbrush and toothpaste were gone from the bathroom, along with the jar she
used for soaking her false teeth. In the bedroom, Kate couldn’t find any
underwear, and the only caftan in the closet was a ratty garment that should
have been thrown in the garbage years ago.

Kate
picked up the phone and dialed the police again, to report her mother missing.

E
velyn
accepted a steaming mug of coffee from Noel.

“I
cooled it for you in the refrigerator,” he said.

“You’re
so good to me.”

She
saw him smiling as he sat down on the chair beside her. They’d stared at the
same beach for two days, and now he repeated the question he’d asked a hundred
times before.

“Isn’t
this a lovely view?”

“It’s
beautiful,” she said as she smoothed the golden caftan over her knees.

“You’re
the one who’s beautiful.”

“Oh,
Noel, you’re flattering me.”

When
he didn’t make the reply she expected, she got nervous.

“Eve,
where do you want to go tomorrow?”

“I
leave all that to you, darling. I know the driving tires you. If you want to
stay here another day ... I love it here.”

She
wanted to go home, but Kate would have seen Han by now.

“Eve?”

Had
Noel been watching her? She didn’t want him to guess at her thoughts. What if
they went home and Kate stormed in and Noel was there and Kate accused her
mother ...

She
twisted restlessly and her mug flew off the handle and crashed onto the ground.
“Oh, no! Oh, dear!  I’ll get it. Just sit there, Noel. I’ll get it.”

“Eve,
leave it. I’ll get it in the morning when we can see.”

She
bent down, humiliated at how stupid she must have looked, throwing her coffee
mug onto the ground like that. He called her graceful, and she’d just done such
a stupid thing...

“Darling
... Eve, don’t.”

She
let him help her erect, then he said, “Eve,” again and her heart went haywire.
Why did he say her name over and over again? She smoothed her hands down the
satiny fabric of her caftan. “Is it time we went in?”

He
took her arm and steadied her as she went up the two steps, but her heart still
wouldn’t stop pounding. Inside, in the tiny hallway he didn’t let her hand go.
One of them better talk soon. So much easier the night Han said marry me and
she turned to say yes and found herself in his arms, then seconds later in the
back seat of his crew cab, she lost her virginity in breathless discomfort.

But
then Han flew away to that job in Chile within two weeks of the wedding, and
left her behind. She was all alone, left behind until one day she met a man on
the beach, and she was so miserable because she thought Han regretted the
marriage, and she’d never see him again ... and she walked and laughed with the
man.

Laughed
while her heart seared with pain because Han hadn’t written, all those weeks
and not one letter. Then the man—his name was Eddie though they never exchanged
last names—he held out a hand and led her into the sand dunes.

She
went with him and they rutted behind the big sand dune like two animals and for
a few minutes she felt loved and wanted. And, although she didn’t know it then,
Eddie’s seed was inside her, making Kate. So simple to take an offered hand and
walk behind a sand dune without thought of the consequences.

“Eve?”

She
turned her head.

Noel
placed his hand against her face.

Evelyn
covered his hand with hers.

He
cleared his throat.

She
fought to suppress a giggle.

“Eve,
it’s been a long time. Almost ten years.”

She
felt his hand tremble.

“Longer
than ten years for me.” With Han gone from their lives, for one lonely winter
after Kate went to university, Evelyn went out every night. So many men, and
each one hurt more than the last.

Noel’s
lips felt awkward against her cheek. She didn’t know what to do. Then she
turned her head. The kiss felt awkward ... lovely. She couldn’t bear it if she
lost him.

“Eve...”

Panicked,
she pulled back.

“Eve,
please...”

“My
breasts are wrinkled, and I’m not ... I’m not beau—not beautiful.”

“Sweetheart.”
He cupped her face with both his hands and she felt his breath against her
wrinkled cheeks. He said, “Eve, everything about me is wrinkled,” and suddenly
it didn’t matter.

“We
could fool around a bit,” she said. Her voice sounded husky and seductive; it
made her want to laugh. “If it doesn’t work, we can just cuddle.”

She
took his hand and led him into the tiny bedroom.

It
worked.

M
ac arrived
at the house on Maple Road shortly before dark. He’d spent the last hour back
at the construction yard with Sheriff Trawley, answering questions.

Did
Mac own this land? Was the building insured? Trawley had to check every
possibility, and Mac let the Sheriff set the pace. The fact was, once Trawley
left, all Mac had to look forward to was another motel room. Mac showed the
sheriff the same things he’d shown the fire inspector. Yes, he knew the arson
investigator speculated oily paint rags and a one-gallon red plastic Jerry can
near the heart of the fire. No, he couldn’t tell if any paint rags were
missing. No, Madrona Bay Contracting didn’t use one-gallon gasoline containers,
just five-gallon.

The
sheriff didn’t like the fact that Mac’s current address was a hotel room.

“Marital
problems?”

“My
wife and I are separated.”

“I’ll
want to talk to her.”

When
Trawley left, Mac climbed into his pick-up and stared at the damaged building.
He didn’t like his thoughts. Finally, he locked the gate with a new padlock and
drove away. He turned right when he got to the highway, not left into Madrona
Bay.

He
needed to talk to Rachel.

At
the house, he pulled up outside the closed garage door. Rachel’s car wasn’t
parked in its usual place under the tree. He stared at the house for a moment
before he reached for his garage door opener.

No
car in the garage. Rachel wasn’t home.

He
thought of Kate’s garage, piles of boxes, years of memories. He spotted Jake’s
climbing spurs on a shelf in the corner, remembered the day Jake taught him to
climb. Jake had worked six days a week on the Amazonian dam, but one Sunday he
took thirteen year old Mac into the rainforest. Using two pairs of spurs,
they’d climbed a giant tree until the forest became a carpet below them.

Below
Jake’s climbing spurs, a small chain saw lay on its side, the bar hanging out
where the oily chain might catch on anyone who walked past. The last time Mac
saw that saw was in the enclosure near the garage door, where the outside vents
would carry away any gasoline fumes.

He
hesitated before he opened the enclosure. He didn’t want to know ...

The
enclosure should have held the chain saw, a one-gallon red plastic Jerry can,
and a closed tin of paint rags. But the chain saw was out here on the shelf,
and inside the enclosure—no Jerry can. No rags.

A
knot of nausea grabbed his gut and he slammed the enclosure’s door shut.

He
entered the house through the door to the kitchen. Rachel had served him a few
hundred meals at this varnished oak table. She always sat in the chair nearest
the stove, and watched him until he complimented her cooking.

Paint
rags and a red one-gallon Jerry can.

He’d
held her in his arms, her tears hot against his shoulder. He’d once promised he
would look after her forever, and they’d taken vows together. Now he walked
into the bedroom where they’d made love together and stared at the tumbled
comforter on the floor. There’s where she’d screamed at him and he’d grabbed
her arms and shook her with hatred in his heart. Whatever they’d tried to build
was gone, but he couldn’t believe ...

He
left the tousled quilt on the floor and walked into the living room warily, as
if the furniture might conceal snakes. Rachel hadn’t the muscles to handle bolt
cutters. She couldn’t have got in without a key.

The
office door was locked. Someone locked it with a key.

His
desk was an antique roll top he’d found in a junk store in Bellingham. He’d
sanded the flexible roll top and dismantled the fifteen tiny upper drawers,
sanded them and fit them back together with fresh glue. He kept a spare set of
keys in the upper left drawer.

He
sucked in a breath as he opened the drawer. Empty.

Could
he have put the keys back in the wrong place the last time he used them? He
knew he hadn’t, but he searched anyway—fourteen tiny drawers, each one empty.
He opened every cubicle and drawer in the desk, but she’d cleaned them all out.
He couldn’t make sense of it.

It
didn’t matter. What mattered was that the keys were gone.

When
he pushed away from the desk, the oak chair fell over with a crash. He stared
at it, couldn’t seem to make sense of it either. He bent over, closed his
fingers around the seat back in slow motion. His feet moved in slow-motion,
too, past the picture on the wall, to the front door. Deadbolt ... deadbolt
locked, can’t get out the door, fire burns his lungs, Socrates urges him to
hurry.

The
truck started on the second try. He shoved it into gear and crawled out the
drive. He wished Jake were alive; he could sure use someone to talk to.

What
am I supposed to do now, Jake? The cops are looking for an arsonist, and I’m
married to her. Meanwhile, the cops will question the kid and he might be too
lazy to earn a paycheck, but he doesn’t deserve police harassment.

He’d
have to tell the cops.

Mac
passed the motel sign for the place he’d stayed last night. He’d go nuts shut
inside a motel room right now. Kate was the only living person he could imagine
talking to, but she’d backed off—and with Rachel swinging hammers and setting
fires, who knew what she’d do if she learned Kate’s identity?

He
couldn’t even imagine Rachel doing what she must have done, but ...

Her
face in counseling the other day, rage and hatred burning ...

It
wasn’t so difficult, after all, to picture Rachel opening the gate with the
tools of fire in her arms. If she hated him enough to cause his death, what
else might she do? Kate could be in danger. Or the house he’d just finished
building.

Surely
Rachel wouldn’t harm the house? The owners were sleeping in the Taylor Road
house tonight.
Camping,
they’d told him with a laugh, to get the feel of
their new home.

Mac
shoved the throttle to the floor. He had no choice. The cops needed to know.

R
achel
had trouble finding the right street in the Crocker Subdivision. She’d never
been here at night before. She drove out the beach highway north of Madrona
Bay, then took the first turn and found herself in a cul-de-sac.

What
asshole designed these streets? She finally saw the sign for Dorby Way,
recognized the name, and took the corner so fast she went into a skid. She
slowed down then, because she didn’t want people to remember her car. She
recognized the next turn although she couldn’t see the street sign. She crawled
around the turn.