The Mill River Redemption (28 page)

“Okay,” Alex said. “I’m going to go start looking right now! It’s like we’re on a real treasure hunt!”

Emily chuckled. “I guess so.” At least her poor nephew would get some enjoyment out of looking. “Let me know if you find something.”

A
WEEK AFTER SHE HAD SPOKEN WITH
A
LEX
, E
MILY RUSHED HOME
from work and removed a large metal detector from her car. She had her arm in the rigid support cuff and was about ready to activate the detector when Ivy called to her from across the street.

“I’m a little afraid to ask what you’re doing with that contraption.”

“Come on over, and I’ll show you,” Emily replied. She waited as Ivy grabbed her cane and slowly made her way across the street. “This is a metal detector,” she said once her aunt was standing beside her. “It can sense things the size of coins and keys that are buried up to eight inches deep, and bigger metal objects up to three feet deep.”

“And you’re using it to look for—”

“—Mom’s safe-deposit-box key,” Emily said. “Rose and I can’t make any sense out of what’s in our houses and what the clues are supposed to be. Frankly, I don’t think I could stand to be in the same room with her at this point. We’re just going to search for the key itself.”

“Hmmm.” Emily took advantage of her great-aunt’s silence and turned on the metal detector. Slowly, she walked forward, methodically
moving the disc at the end of the detector back and forth in front of her.

“You’re sure this is the best way to go?” Ivy asked as Emily completed her first run and moved past in the opposite direction. “Not looking for the clues, I mean?”

“I’m not sure of anything, but it seemed as good an idea as any. Finding the key is the only thing that matters. We’ve already searched inside—” She stopped speaking as the metal detector emitted a loud beep.

“What’s that? Did you find something?” Ivy asked as she hurried over to stare at the ground under the machine.

“Maybe,” Emily said. Standing in one place, she moved the disc in a small area to confirm that there was actually something metal in the ground. “Hang on,” she told her aunt. Then, she carefully removed her arm from the cuff on the handle, laid the detector on the ground, and sprinted into her house.

Emily returned quickly carrying a small garden trowel. There was nothing metal visible on the surface of the lawn, so she dropped to her knees and used the trowel to loosen and turn over several clumps of grass and soil. In the third trowel full of material, something metal glinted up at them. Emily plucked the object from the dirt.

It was a small gold key.

“Holy smokes!” Ivy said.

Emily’s breath caught in her throat. Her heart was hammering, driven by a shot of adrenaline that left her limbs tingling. “I don’t believe it,” she said.

“Quick, let me see it,” Ivy said. With a trembling hand, Emily gave her the key. Ivy held it up, looked closely at it, and groaned. “I’m sorry, kid, but this isn’t it. Your mother’s key is smaller than this, and it’s silver. There’s a number engraved on it, too. I think it was 338, to match the box number.”

“Well, shoot. I knew it couldn’t be that easy,” Emily said. She
was in the strange, quivery state of coming back to earth after her hopes had shot sky high. “But hey, at least we know the metal detector works, right?” She stood up, grabbed the machine, and repositioned her arm in the cuff.

“I feel for you,” Ivy said as she wiped her brow and looked up at the thick gray clouds. “You’re gonna be out here for a while, and it’s getting muggier by the minute.”

“I know,” Emily said with a resigned sigh. “The whole yard is a lot to cover. I didn’t expect to finish this evening, though.”

“Well, if you find any other keys or interesting stuff, bring it over. These houses have been here forever, so there’s no telling what’s found its way into the ground.”

“Yeah, thanks, Aunt Ivy.” Emily smiled at her great-aunt and then refocused her attention on the lawn. Every so often, the alarm would sound, and she would stop and dig. She found a beer-bottle cap, several coins, and an old men’s watch with a flexible metal band. Several times, Emily told herself that the pass she was completing would be her last for the evening, but then the alarm would sound again, and she would be on her knees, scooping up dirt with the trowel. It was amazingly addictive.

Emily was in the middle of the lawn, digging in response to yet another blast from the metal detector, when she found a second key. This one was smaller than the first and silver in color, and her heart leaped as she frantically pulled it from the soil. She turned it over and held it up, searching for any sign of an engraved number. There was none. Dejected, Emily slipped the key into her pocket with the other things she’d found. She was grateful that Ivy had already described the key she was looking for, since it saved her hopes from rising and crashing as hard as they had with the first key.

She crossed the walkway and continued in a straight line. Not thirty seconds after she’d resumed her path, the detector sounded again. She bent over and looked at the grass. This time, she didn’t
even need to dig, as she could see the shiny silver top of something protruding slightly from the ground. Emily grabbed it and yanked.

It was another key.

Was it a joke? Emily wondered how she could have found three keys so quickly in such a small portion of the yard.

Emily was beginning to realize that something just wasn’t right. She resumed scanning, but now she was moving much faster, covering ground as rapidly as she could. The alarm sounded again, and she moved like clockwork. Set down the detector. Kneel down. Dig.

Within seconds, she was holding a fourth key in her hand. Again, it was silver, but it wasn’t her mother’s.

In the next fifteen minutes, she found three more keys. One was gold, one was silver, and the third looked like a child’s house key. The shank of the third key was silver, but the bow, the part that would be grasped to insert the key in a lock, had “Looney Tunes” printed on one side. On the other side was a color image of Tweety Bird.

Emily’s chin snapped up.

She whirled around to face Rose’s house and then looked down at the small jumble of keys in her hand. Propped up against her fingers, Tweety’s big blue eyes stared back.

Her gaze drifted to Rose’s black BMW as she reached into her pocket and withdrew the other keys she had found. The finish on each of them was shiny and new-looking, not weathered and dull as would be expected for a key that had been buried for any significant length of time. In fact, they looked like they had been cut from the same modern kinds of blanks she routinely used to copy keys down at the hardware store. One by one, she held up the keys, comparing the teeth cut into the shanks against each other.

As far as Emily could tell, they were identical. All seven of the keys were made to open the same lock.

It took her only seconds to reach Rose’s front door. The house
was dark and quiet. She raised a hand to knock on the door and then stopped. On a whim, she took one of the keys and inserted it into the keyhole. When she turned it, the dead bolt slid back with a quiet
click
. She really didn’t need proof of what her sister had done, but here it was—absolute and incontrovertible.

Emily took a deep breath and walked into Rose’s house. The living room was just off the foyer, and she didn’t have to go far to find Rose sprawled out on the sofa. Not wanting to involve or alarm Alex, Emily tiptoed onto the carpet and leaned over her sleeping sister. The all-too-familiar smell of rum wafted up into her face.

“Rose,” Emily said. She waited a moment as her sister stirred and mumbled something. “ROSE!”

Rose’s eyes, then her mouth, flew open.

“Get your ass outside, right now,” Emily said, then turned on her heel and went back out the front door and down the sidewalk a ways, away from the house. Rose emerged a few seconds later, unsteady and disheveled and fighting mad.

“How
dare
you? How dare you break into
my house
?” she screeched as she walked down the stairs from her front stoop.

“I didn’t break in, you idiot,” Emily said. She pulled a fistful of keys from each of her pockets and let them rain down on the sidewalk between them. “I
let
myself in, with one of the many keys you so kindly planted in my yard. What in the hell were you thinking? If Mom’s key is buried over there, it’ll take a lot longer to find now. Or maybe, you’re having such a good time boozing it up that you really don’t care about that anymore?”

“What I do in my own house is none of your business,” Rose said. “And I care
plenty
about finding Mom’s key. Alex and I have already searched inside our house for it. It’s not there, so I guess now we’ll start looking, I don’t know, outside here.” She waved her hand haphazardly in the air. “Alex is all excited about the metal
detector. You’re probably pretty good at using it by now.” Rose swayed and teetered off balance as she laughed.

“Look at you,” Emily said. “You’re so drunk you can hardly stand up. And where’s Alex? Up in his room? Or do you even know? I swear, Rose, I’m tempted to call Sheldon and tell him what a wreck you are. Or maybe I should just call the police and let them bring in child protective services. It’s obvious you’re barely capable of taking care of yourself, much less Alex. You need to get it together. This is your last warning.” She turned on her heel and walked up onto her lawn, but her sister stormed after her.

“My last warning? Oooh, I’m afraid,” Rose said. “My son is fine, anyone can see that. I just had a drink to relax after Alex and I turned the house upside down looking for Mom’s key. Sheldon would totally understand that, too. Anybody would, except maybe someone who’s so unhappy with her own life that she has to stir up trouble in other people’s.”

Emily tried to ignore Rose, to keep her back to her sister and dismiss her comments as the ravings of a drunkard. She almost succeeded.

“In fact,” Rose continued, her words slurring slightly, “you have no business telling me or anyone else to ‘get it together.’ It’s been, what, fourteen years since you left Mill River? What have you got to show for it? No house, no husband, and no children. No material possessions to speak of, other than a few boxes of junk that fit in your crappy car. You still don’t get that bad things, even terrible things, happen to people all the time. Normal people get over them. But you, you just go from place to place, with your shit car and your filthy dog, wallowing in self-pity.
You’re
the one who needs to get it together.”

Emily whirled around and slapped Rose hard across the face. “I would have all of the things that I don’t if it weren’t for you!” she screamed. Before Rose could recover, Emily lunged at her, throwing
all her weight forward and knocking her sister to the ground. Despite being intoxicated, Rose put up a pretty good defense, but Emily was wild, fuming with years of pent-up anger, and completely determined to give her a good thrashing.

She didn’t know how long they had been rolling around with their fists flailing, but a loud, authoritative voice finally caught their attention.

“What in the hell is going on?” Ivy thundered. “You girls had better quit this nonsense before I take this cane and wallop you both. For shame! Fighting like two schoolyard brats, and in public! You’re lucky nobody called the police. What would your poor mother say if she were here?”

Emily was sitting astride Rose, and she looked up to see Ivy glowering down at them. With one last shove at her sister, she jumped up. Rose got to her feet, too, but she didn’t say anything before she turned and ran for her house.

“What was all that about?” Ivy demanded.

“She doesn’t know when to keep her mouth shut,” Emily said. “And I’ll tell you something else, Aunt Ivy. I’m done with her. I’ve tried, I’ve really tried. I know what Mom wanted, but Rose is impossible. I don’t care what happens to Mom’s estate. If I can’t find the key by myself, then screw it. Rose can have it all.

“And I swear, I’m going to make damn sure that people in town can see for themselves what kind of person she is.”

1997

A
S SHE WORKED ON DISCONNECTING THE PIPES BENEATH
the bathroom sink, Emily could hear her mother crying in the living room. If it had been a new situation, or even an infrequent one, she would have gotten up and gone to console her as best she could. But Rose storming out of the house and leaving their mother sobbing was anything but new.

After a few minutes, Emily heard the front door opening and the low, soothing tones of her aunt Ivy’s voice. It took a while until her mother stopped crying enough to speak coherently and she began to make out snippets of their conversation.

“… don’t know what I’m going to do with her,” Josie said. “She’s running with older kids … don’t like that boy she’s been seeing …”

“… out of control, just like your mother was at her age,” Ivy said. Emily could just imagine how her great-aunt was shaking her head as she spoke.

“… threatening to leave after high school. I blame myself for not being there. I should have seen what was happening …”

“… can’t blame yourself, now. You’ve tried everything …”

Today’s argument was pretty bad
, Emily thought as the U-bend under the sink came loose. She stuffed the end of a rag into the open pipe jutting out of the wall and tried to pour the contents of
the trap into the bucket she’d placed beneath it. Unclogging sink drains was a skill she’d learned out of necessity. How many times had Rose borrowed some piece of jewelry from their mother without her permission and managed to drop it down the drain? Or thrown up in the sink when she hadn’t quite been able to get to the toilet in time after a night of partying? Whatever the reason, Emily had been subject to her sister’s pleas to help fix the problem more times than she could count. The first time she’d disconnected the plumbing had been a disaster—she hadn’t thought to place a bucket under the pipes to catch the backed-up mess before disconnecting the plumbing—but now, the job was almost routine.