LITMIR.BIZ

Скачать книгу

They would not stop shaking. She was going to start crying again. Why did she keep crying?

      “Here.” Alabama offered her a handkerchief.

      Andy stared at the folded white cloth. She thought Gordon was the only man who still carried a handkerchief.

      “Just trying to help a lady in need,” he grinned, still holding out the cloth.

      Andy did not take it. For the first time, she really looked at the man. He was tall and fit, probably close to forty. Jeans and sneakers. His white button-down shirt was open at the collar, long sleeves neatly rolled up. He looked like he had forgotten to shave this morning, or maybe that was part of his look.

      A thought occurred to her that was so startling she blurted it out. “Are you a reporter?”

      He laughed and shook his head. “I make my living the honest way.”

      “You’re a cop?” she tried. “Detective?” When he did not immediately answer, she told him, “Please leave me alone.”

      “Whoa, porcupine.” He held up both his hands in surrender. “I was just making small talk.”

      Andy did not want to talk. She scanned the drive for Gordon’s white BMW.

       Where was her father?

      Andy took out her cell phone. The home screen was filled with text alerts and missed calls. Mindy Logan. Sarah Ives. Alice Blaedel. Danny Kwon. In the last few hours, the smattering of band, chorus and drama geeks Andy had been friends with in high school had all suddenly remembered her phone number.

      She dismissed the notices, then pulled up DAD and texted: hurry.

      Alabama finally seemed to realize that she wasn’t open to small talk. He tucked his handkerchief back into his jeans pocket. He walked over to one of the benches and sat down. He pulled out his phone. His thumbs worked across the screen.

      Andy glanced behind her, wondering what was taking Laura so long. Then she scanned the front parking area for Gordon. Her father was probably in the parking deck, which meant he would be at least twenty minutes because the woman working the booth had to talk to every single person who handed her a ticket to get out.

      All she could do was sit down on a bench three down from Alabama. Every muscle in Andy’s body felt like an overstretched rubber band. Her head throbbed. Her stomach was sour. She checked her phone to see if Gordon had texted back, but he would never look at his phone while he was driving because it was dangerous.

      The sliding doors opened. Andy felt relief, then trepidation, upon seeing her mother. The orderly pushed the wheelchair to a stop beside the curb. Laura was wearing a cotton candy pink Belle Isle Medical Center T-shirt that was too big for her slender frame. She was clearly in pain. Her face was the color of notebook paper. Her good hand was wrapped around the arm of the chair in a death grip.

      Andy asked, “Didn’t they give you anything?”

      Laura said nothing, so the orderly volunteered, “The surgery meds are wearing off. The doc offered her a script but she wouldn’t take it.”

      “Mom—” Andy didn’t know what to say. Laura wouldn’t even look at her. “Mother.”

      “I’m fine,” Laura insisted, though her teeth were gritted. She asked the orderly, “Do you have a cigarette?”

      “You don’t smoke,” Andy said, just as her mother reached for a Marlboro from the pack that the orderly pulled from his shirt pocket.

      The man cupped his hand as he flicked the lighter.

      Andy stepped away from the smell.

      Laura didn’t seem to notice. She took a deep drag, then coughed out white puffs of smoke. She held the cigarette awkwardly, pinched between her thumb and forefinger the way a junkie would.

      “I’m all right,” Laura said, her voice a raspy whisper. “I just need some space.”

      Andy took her at her word. She stepped farther away, putting distance between herself and her mother. She looked at the parking deck, willing Gordon to hurry. She started to cry again, but quietly. She didn’t know what to do. None of this made any sense.

      Laura said, “There are some boxes at your father’s house.”

      Andy’s lips trembled. Silence eluded her. She had to have answers. “What did I do wrong?”

      “You didn’t do anything wrong.” Laura smoked the cigarette. “I just need to stop coddling you. You need to learn to stand on your own two feet.”

      “By moving in with Dad?” She needed this to make sense. Laura always made sense. “Mom, please—”

      Laura took a last hit from the cigarette, then handed it to the orderly to finish. She told Andy, “Pack what you need for the night. Your dad won’t let you stay with him forever. You’ll work out a budget. You’ll see what you can afford. You could move to Atlanta, or even back to New York.” She looked up at Andy from her chair. “You have to go, Andrea. I want to be alone now. I’ve earned the right to be alone.”

      “I didn’t …” the words got tangled in Andy’s mouth. “I never—”

      “Stop,” Laura said. She had never talked to Andy this way. It was as if she hated her. “Just stop.”

       Why?

      “Thank God,” Laura muttered as Gordon’s BMW glided to a stop in front of the wheelchair ramp.

      “Help me up.” Laura held out her hand for the orderly, but the guy in the Alabama hat was suddenly at her side.

      He said, “Happy to be of service, ma’am.”

      If Andy hadn’t been watching closely, she would’ve missed the look that flashed across her mother’s face. Panic? Fear? Disgust?

      He said, “Up you go.”

      “Thank you.” Laura let him lift her to standing.

      Gordon came around the car and opened the door. He told Alabama, “I’ve got it from here.”

      “No problem, big guy.” Alabama didn’t relinquish his hold. He guided Laura down to the front seat, then gently lifted her legs as she turned to face the front. “Take care, now.”

      Gordon said, “Thank you.”

      “My pleasure.” Alabama offered Gordon his hand. “I’m sorry for the situation your wife and daughter are in.”

      “Uh—yes.” Gordon was too polite to correct him about his marital status, let alone refuse to shake his hand. “Thank you.”

      Alabama tipped his hat at Andy as she got into the back of the car. He shut the door before she could slam it in his face.

      Gordon got behind the wheel. He sniffed the air with visible distaste. “Have you been smoking?”

      “Gordon, just drive.”

      He waited for her to look at him. She did not. He put the car in gear. He drove away from the portico, past the entrance to the parking garage, then pulled over and parked the car. He turned to Laura. His mouth opened. Nothing came out.

      “No,” she said. “Not here. Not now.”

      He shook his head slowly back and forth.

      “Andy doesn’t need to hear this.”

      Gordon didn’t seem to care. “The kid’s father was Bobby Helsinger. Did you know that?”

      Laura’s lips pursed. Andy could tell she knew.

      Gordon said, “He was the sheriff of Bibb County before a bank robber blew off his head with a shotgun. This was six months ago, around the same time the detective says Jonah Helsinger started weaponizing.”

       The vest and gunbelt.

Скачать книгу