“Oh. Okay.” I bit my lip. “Well. Sorry to wake you.”
“I wasn’t asleep.”
I pictured him, home alone (or maybe not alone), sitting on the edge of his bed.
He had a good face, Sullivan Fletcher did. A calm, reassuring face. Just thinking of it made me feel safer.
“Good night,” he said.
“Good night,” I echoed.
And I went to bed. Me, my dog and my pistol, just in case.
13
Dear Lily,
I know you said not to write to you, but who cares what you think?
So guess what? I’m working at the clinic on Scupper for the summer. Yesterday, a lady came in with a brand-new baby, and the smell of his head made me think of Poe when she was tiny. She was the most beautiful baby I’ve ever seen. Still is. She misses you. I do, too.
Love,
Nora
There was the bowl of six lemons on the counter. The red gerbera daisies on the coffee table. My pretty little apartment, just as tidy and lovely as I’d left it. My perfect home.
But this time, the glass slider was open, and I already knew he was here. I pretended not to know, thinking that if I could pretend hard enough, he’d disappear. I could hear him in the bathroom, getting into the shower, the hiss of the rings as he slid back the curtain. But I was sure, I was so sure that if he thought I didn’t believe he was here, he’d somehow disappear.
Then the shower curtain opened, and this time he already had the knife.
I jolted awake from the nightmare, drenched in sweat, panting like Boomer after a run.
Speaking of, where was my dog? What about the guy in the woods last night? Was it really Luke, or had Voldemort found me?
Holy shit, where were the girls?
I burst out of my room, and there they were, at the kitchen table, Poe sprawled out, Audrey sitting across from her. They both looked up at me.
“Are you all right?” I blurted.
“Shockingly, yes,” Poe said.
“Want some coffee?” Audrey asked.
My heart clattered and banged in my chest. “Um...sure. Thank you.”
Audrey brought me a mug. She’d set the table with the sugar bowl and creamer already.
“Bad dream?” Poe suggested, eyes flicking up and down my form.
I nodded.
“You talked in your sleep all the time at Gran’s.”
“Sorry,” I muttered. I wondered if I’d said anything that would make her worry. Then again, worry for her aunt didn’t seem to be one of Poe’s problems, and that was good. I wanted to help her, not add to her burdens.
“Want me to make waffles?” I asked. Collier Rhodes’s houseboat was equipped with every appliance known to Williams-Sonoma.
“I have to work,” Audrey said. “I’m gonna walk down to the boatyard. But thank you so much for having me over,” she said to me. “And, Poe, it was nice hanging out.”
“Yeah. Same here.” She gave an awkward smile, and my heart tugged. I was almost positive that under her tough-girl act was a lonely kid.
I hugged Audrey. “Thanks for coming, honey. Drop by anytime.”
“I will! Thanks. This was really fun. Bye, Boomer.” She ruffled my dog’s fur, then grabbed her backpack and left.
“She’s so nice,” I said, sitting down.
“Bet you wish she was your niece instead of me.”
I took a sip of coffee. “Nah. She doesn’t have blue hair, and I love blue hair.”
Poe rolled her eyes, practically dislocating them, reached for the coffee and winced. There was a damp mark on the shoulder of her T-shirt.
“How’s that tattoo?” I asked.
“Fine.”
“Mind if I look at it?”
“Yes, I do mind. Too pervy.”
“I’m thinking it might be infected. I’m a doctor, remember?”
She hesitated, then pulled her shirt up.
Yep. Those angel wings were oozing. “I’ll get some bacitracin. Hang on.”
Once, when I visited and Poe was about four, she had loved pretending to be sick so I could fuss over her. She’d hold up her little hand and I’d put a Band-Aid on her finger and give her a Hershey’s Kiss to make it better, then take her temperature and prop her up with pillows. “You just rest,” I’d say, “and Auntie will rub your feet.”
That had been the best visit. I’d really thought Lily and I would be close after that one. She even hugged me when I left.
When I’d called a week later, she didn’t answer or return my call or answer the subsequent email.
I went to the bathroom and got the first-aid kit and a clean facecloth, then ran it under hot water and wrung it out. Poe sat at the table, her back to me. Her shoulder blades were those of a little girl’s, it seemed, thin and fragile.
“Is it gross?” Poe asked, and for once, there wasn’t any snark in her tone.
“Not to me,” I said, gently pressing the cloth against her tattoo. “I’ve seen gross, and this doesn’t even come close.”
“What are some gross things you’ve seen?” she asked. Gasp! Interest in her aunt’s profession!
“Well, there was this woman who came into the office because she had bad breath. And I’m not talking onions-at-lunch bad breath.” I eased the hot compress off and put on some bacitracin, covered it with gauze and taped it in place, then held an ice pack against it to help with the swelling. “Her breath smelled like feces. Actual sewage.”
“Gross.”
“Yes. It was hard not to gag.”
“So what was wrong with her.”
“Fetor hepaticus. Breath of the dead, they call it. Late-stage liver failure that basically meant her liver enzymes were oozing into her lungs.”
“Oh, God!” Poe made a gacking sound. “Did she make it?”
“No. She died a few hours later.” Beatrice LaPonte of Dorchester. My second fatality.
“Is it hard, seeing someone...you know?”
I took off the ice pack and pulled Poe’s shirt back down. “Yes.”
She was quiet for a minute. Her neck was slender, the blue hair oddly complementary to her fair skin. I couldn’t resist and reached out to touch the back of her head.
She jumped up. “What are you doing? Don’t get weird, okay? Jesus.”
I closed my eyes briefly. “You want to come to Boston with me today?” I said.
“Why?”
“I’m bringing Boomer to see Bobby. My ex-boyfriend. We could go shopping, maybe? Or see a movie?”
“I’ll pass.” The sullen teenager was back.
“Okay, but before I take you back to Gran’s, I want to show you something, okay?”
“Do I have a choice?”
“You do not. I was just being polite.”
* * *
Fifteen minutes later, we were in the car, Boomer in the back seat, crooning his joy, his enormous head out the window. Poe had turned down the chance to drive, so I did the honors. Down the bumpy, sandy road till we hit pavement, then into town. Already, traffic was starting to pick up a bit with weekend visitors. The line was out the door at Lala’s, I was glad to see.
We went west of Penniman State Forest and up Eastman Hill, where Dad had brought Lily and me so many times. The Hill of Thrills, Dad had called it.
It was steeper than I remembered.
My little car automatically downshifted to a lower gear, lumbering up the hill, which was a good half mile long. At the top, there was the huge granite rock, surrounded by pine and oak trees. The oaks were just starting to bud out, and though the air was cool, the sun was warm.