Dear Daughter (12 page)

I frowned. They’d all seemed perfectly happy at dinner. “But you all cleared your plates—”

“Yeah, into our napkins. Kelley and I paid Rue five bucks each to sneak our leftover food into the Dumpster.”

The bartender came our way, and even if I hadn’t seen Renee’s shoulders tense I would’ve known I was looking at Tanner. He was just shy of handsome, but not so far off that I couldn’t imagine a potential appeal under certain circumstances, in the same way that even a gross old bag of Cheetos can manage to look good three bowls into a dime bag. His arms were lean and muscled and covered in a thicket of tattoos he’d probably copied from a mixed-martial-arts magazine.

He smirked as he approached, and I noticed that his eyes weren’t just undressing Renee. They were recording her with night-vision video and posting it on the Internet.

He boxed Renee in between his elbows and leaned forward until his face was almost touching hers. “I don’t get off until two,” he said. “But I always say life’s not worth living if you just get off once a night.”

She shoved him back. “Dream on, Tanner.”

“Every night, Renee.” He ran his tongue over his teeth when he smiled, and he smelled of something that probably had “breeze” in its name.

“What’re you drinking?” he asked me without taking his eyes off Renee.

I studied the collection of bottles behind the bar. Bottom-shelf all the way—not that I should be thinking about drinking anything from any kind of shelf. “Club soda with lime,” I said.

“Right. One Bride of Christ, coming up.”

I pushed my glasses up on my face so I could get a better look at him when I delivered the set-down he deserved—like “Yep, that’s me, just another girl who’d rather fuck a dead guy than you”—but
goddammit
, the only thing Rebecca could do was show a watery smile. He shoved the drink at me and didn’t apologize when it spilled all over my hand.

“Ignore him,” Kelley said. “Renee wouldn’t go out with him in high school and he’s been taking it out on all of us ever since.”

I raised my eyebrows.

“Surprised I turned him down?” Renee asked.

“Surprised he went to high school.”

“Well, only in the loosest possible sense.” She threw back her head and drained her beer. “So you’re probably wondering why we asked you here.”

“It’s not for the food?”

Kelley and Renee exchanged a look.

“Not quite,” Kelley said.

“We thought we should warn you,” Renee said.

I busied myself with my glass, taking a moment to identify the tightness in my chest as expectation. “Warn me? About what?”

“About Ardelle,” she said.

I looked up. “I’m sorry?”

“It’s not that people haven’t tried to write about it, you know. It’s just that once they get here they never end up finding anything worth writing about. Yeah, sure, it’s a little weird how we keep moving back and forth and everything, but that’s not really interesting—it’s stubborn. I just don’t want you to waste your time.”

I slid a finger down the side of my glass and wiped off the condensation on a cocktail napkin. Why would two businesswomen in a struggling town be warning off a potential customer? “But the festival—”

“The festival sucks,” Kelley said.

“Hard,” Renee said.

“Even
we
really only put up with it for Cora’s sake.”

“And because we like the free food,” Renee said. “But there will probably be like twelve or so people who aren’t from Ardelle, and everyone else will be drunk. It’ll be like attending a high school reunion as a significant other, except the reunion is five days long. And on the last night we have to wear costumes.”

Expectation sharpened into suspicion. What game were they playing? Did they do this with everyone who came to town—or had I said something that triggered a warning bell? I decided to play along.

“I don’t know,” I said, not even having to fake my bewilderment. “I’m kind of into costumes.”

Renee patted me on the shoulder. “That’s just because you haven’t smelled them.”

I tried my drink and frowned. Tanner hadn’t given me soda water; he’d given me tonic water. It was turning into that kind of night.

“Are you trying to get rid of me?” I asked, trying for a light tone.

Kelley laughed. “Of course not. We just don’t want you to expect, like—”

“Something good,” Renee said.

“But—”

“Shit,” Renee said. “Speaking of sucking hard . . .”

I followed her gaze; Leo was approaching. “Ladies,” he said. “Renee.” He reached over the bar and grabbed a bottle of beer, which he opened with the heel of his hand. Once he’d settled on the stool next to Renee, he pulled out a pack of cigarettes, tapped one out, and held it to his mouth.

Tanner appeared just in time to swat it out of his hand. “Take it outside, Leo.”

Leo shook his head. “It’s colder than a polar bear’s tit out there.”

“Come on, man. It’s the law.”

“What’s my line again?” Leo tapped a finger against his temple. “Oh yeah, I know: ‘I am the law.’”

“Some of us’d rather not get cancer, Leo,” Renee said.

“You live here cancer’d be a blessing.”

“Only if you’re the one to get it.”

Leo ruffled Renee’s hair before wedging a new cigarette in the corner of his mouth and lighting it. Tanner threw up his hands and walked away. Renee snatched the second cigarette and tossed it over the bar.

“I’m happy to wait while you pick that up,” he said.

“And I’m happy to watch you wait.”

I tugged on Kelley’s sleeve. “What’s their deal?” I asked, keeping my voice low.

“Oh, nothing much,” she said. “They just used to be married.” She looked at them and frowned. “Well, technically they still are.”

“Why haven’t they made it official?”

Kelley shrugged. “They say there’s no reason to rush. They’re already separated. Although even when they were living together they were always kind of separated—if that makes any sense.”

“You’d be surprised,” I said.

I sipped my tonic. It really needed gin.

Renee and Leo’s discussion had escalated: She was hissing and poking his shoulder with increasing force. When she pulled back a fist, Kelley intervened, grabbing Renee’s arm and putting a hand on Leo’s chest.

“Change of subject!” she said, and from the look that passed between Leo and Renee I could tell that this was a favorite tactic of Kelley’s. “Leo, let’s start with you: I heard you were out looking for Walt Freeman today.”

Walt?
Where had I heard that name before? And why was Leo watching me so closely?

“It was no big deal,” Leo said. “The guys over at Pine Ridge just told me he’d been spotted down there.”

“Who’s Walt Freeman?” I asked.

Renee snorted. “Oh, just the closest thing Ardelle has to a master criminal. We’re
super
grateful to have Leo here to protect us from the big bad pot dealer.”

“We actually should be,” Kelley said. “His weed is crap.”

Leo let his head fall back. “Seriously, Kelley, I’m right here.”

I set down my drink. Oh.
That
Walt—the pot-smoking Neanderthal. This was even better than I’d hoped.

I widened my eyes and let my mouth open slightly. “Is Walt very dangerous?” I asked.

“He’s less a Moriarty than a Joker,” Kelley said. “But, like, Cesar Romero, not Heath Ledger.”

Renee put her hand on mine. “Just pretend you know what that means,” she said. “That’s what I always do.”

I nodded absentmindedly. So Leo had been hanging out on the side of the road with a known criminal—or, a criminal known for more than just smoking weed, anyway. And now he was lying about it. This wasn’t just leverage: This was proper blackmail material. Finally, something I knew how to work with.

When I looked at Leo, he tossed a piece of popcorn in the air and caught it neatly in his mouth. Ah—the practiced nonchalance of a player caught in a bluff. If he changed the subject now, I’d know for sure I was onto something.

“So what were you guys talking about when I got here?” he asked. “Looked serious.”

(I hid my smile.)

“Nothing much,” Renee said. “We were just trying to put Rebecca here out of her misery.”

“Seriously,” Kelley said. “I mean, Deadwood’s really nice, and I can recommend a great hotel up there.”

“I’ve heard of worse ideas,” Leo muttered.

I shook my head. “It’s so thoughtful of you to think of me, but Deadwood really doesn’t interest me. It’s the town twinning I’m curious about. And anyway, I like it here.”

“Why would you like it here?” all three asked simultaneously.

“But—you all seem to. Or is this another food-in-the-napkin thing?”

“What food-in-the-napkin thing?” asked Leo. “Wait, were you guys—”

Renee clamped her hand over his mouth. “Look,” she said, “if it’ll help make my case I’ll tell you everything interesting that has ever happened in Ardelle.” She waved at Tanner—“Another Coors!”—and turned back to me. “I bet I can tell you all there is to know before he comes back with my beer.”

I held out my hands in surrender. “Okay, fine,” I said, “tell me.”

She took a breath. “So. In 1885 some old white dudes came and found some gold. It ran out. Then they found some tin. It ran out. Then they started cutting down trees. Those ran out, too. The end.”

I smothered a noise of impatience. “There has to be more to it than that,” I said. “You just described the history of . . . Earth.”

“Other major events include: the winter of ’34, when my granny Moore lost two chairs and a cat to a kitchen fire; the spring of ’72, when Kelley’s aunt crashed her brand-new Firebird into a telephone pole over on Route 61; the summer of ’85, when Eli’s little sister ran off with a bank robber; and the spring of ’97, when Walt was kicked out of MIT and came back home to build a better bong. Does that cover it, Kel?”

Kelley shrugged apologetically. “Yup, just about.”

“Don’t forget the time you were caught drunk-skinny-dipping in the Obermeyers’ kiddie pool,” Leo said.

“Oh right,” Renee said. “And that. Thanks, Leo.”

I picked through the ice at the bottom of my glass with my straw. I didn’t believe for a second that Kelley and Renee were just acting out of the goodness of their hearts—or that nothing else had ever happened here. But I sensed that it was time for a strategic retreat. The guards in prison had always known that I was at my most biddable when I was about to be at my most dangerous, but no one would think such a thing of Rebecca Parker.

Well—Kelley and Renee wouldn’t, anyway. Leo would require more finesse. I was going to have to risk getting him alone. Which I was pretty sure I knew how to do.

I stood up and fished around in my bag for some cash. “Thanks so much for keeping me company, everyone, but I should get going—Cora told me they lock up at ten.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that,” Kelley said. “Cora keeps a key under the stone angel in the front yard.”

“If I don’t get to bed soon, I’ll never wake up in time for breakfast.” I pulled out a few dollar bills and paused. “Cora doesn’t cook the breakfast, does she?”

“Would that change your mind about leaving?” Leo asked.

I turned my back to Kelley and Renee so I could give him the smile I always used in the past on women who thought they were prettier than me. “Be careful what you say, or I might start to think you don’t like me.”

And on that note, I walked out, sure that Leo wouldn’t be far behind. Men like him always have to get the last word.

•   •   •

As soon as I stepped outside, my phone buzzed. Another post from Trace.

Forget Hawaii, forget Thailand, forget whatever glamorous foreign locale you think Janie Jenkins might have fled to. She NEVER even left Sacramento . . . until recently, at least. The bitch is up to something. Whatever it is, readers: DON’T let her get away with it. Find her, and that money could be YOURS.

I read the post three times over. I’d figured I’d have at least three or four weeks before the press managed to track me down, but I’d forgotten to factor in the accelerant that was Trace’s insatiable loathing. Yet another reason not to dawdle.

Well, good
. It’s not like I wanted to stay, anyway. The faster I got out of this shit hole, the better. I’d find Tessa, find out where she’d met my mom, and then get myself wherever that was ASAP.

The strike of a match; the scent of smoke; a voice: “Whatchya reading?”

I didn’t need to look up to know who it was. “My horoscope. It says, ‘You will meet a tall dark asshole.’”

Leo took a drag. “Psychics just aren’t what they used to be. I’m not all that tall.”

I straightened and made a show of jamming my phone angrily into my pocket. “Well, this was fun. Now if you’ll excuse me—” He blocked my path, as I’d hoped. My performance was practically perfect—except I couldn’t keep my eyes from darting to his cigarette.

He noticed and shook out another from his pack. “Want one?”

I quit smoking the day before my last hearing, just in case the gods needed a last sacrifice before finally condescending to throw me a bone, which meant—and I’d been trying really hard not to do this math—that it had been forty-eight days since my last cigarette.

That’s 1,152 hours.

69,120 minutes.

4,147,200 seconds.

At least five eternities.

I leaned ever so slightly toward Leo’s cigarette, a flower yearning for its carcinogenic sun. “I don’t smoke,” I croaked out.

“Sure you don’t.” He exhaled in my direction and watched the smoke dissipate, a predatory look on his face that made me take a step back. “I ran your plates, you know.”

Oh
shit
.

I forced myself to smile sweetly. “So you
can
do actual police work.”

“Did you know it’s registered under another name? A name that is
not
Rebecca Parker?”

“I just bought it; the transfer hasn’t gone through.”

“You bought that thing by choice?”

“Haven’t we established I don’t know anything about cars?”

He rolled his cigarette back and forth between his thumb and forefinger. “I don’t think we’ve established much of anything at all.”