Dear Daughter (24 page)

Well, this was pretty fucking promising.

“If you don’t mind my asking,” I said, “why are you interested in any of it? The history stuff, that is.”

Kelley leaned her head back and looked at the ceiling. “This may sound strange, but I like it here. I feel a connection to the place—and more of a connection than, like, ‘This is where I grew up,’ or whatever. Or maybe it’s just that I don’t know how to live anywhere else.”

September 8, 1982

1:12 am Caller on First Street reported that neighbor kept slamming door. Officer advised her to leave a note.

“How long have you and Renee been together?”

“Hard to say. We’ve sort of always been together. But if you’re asking how long we’ve been sleeping together, then I’d say it’s been about three years.”

“Does Leo know?”

“He’s not an idiot. Plus, Renee couldn’t wait to tell him.”

“So why are they still married? Why were they
ever
married?”

When Kelley didn’t respond, I looked up at her over the papers. She was staring off to the side, rubbing her palm against her cheek. “I can’t really blame him,” she said eventually. She pulled her hand away, looked at it, then set it firmly on the arm of the couch. “I mean—who
could
blame him? Renee’s super hot.”

Something went soft and sad inside me. “You’re not so bad yourself,” I said.

Kelley laughed. “I knew it. You’re just using Leo to get closer to me.”

“Sounds like I wouldn’t be the first.”

I ducked my head back toward the papers.

April 3, 1983

12:13 pm Walk-in reported driver who used his turn signal but did not turn.

“So why aren’t you out?” I asked.

“It’s not like we’re
in
,” she said. “I just don’t like making a big thing of it.”

“In my experience that tends to make the thing even bigger.”

March 12, 1984

6:08 pm Caller reported that there was a large bag on Commercial Street. Officer ultimately determined that the bag contained trash.

I tossed the papers in the box and sat back on my heels. I took off my glasses and shoved my bangs off my forehead. This was useless.

When I got my glasses back on I saw that Kelley was giving me a weird look.

“What?” I asked.

“Why don’t you try 1985?” she said.

“Did you remember something?”

“No, but I have a feeling.” She came over, knelt next to me, and tugged over another box. She turned it around to show me its side, which Peter had thicketed with Post-its marked with dates.

“Oh.”

“He has his uses.”

Together we picked through the papers until we had the relevent issues spread out in front of us. Apart from a single article about the Reagan inauguration, the lead stories were all local news: record high temperatures at Mount Rushmore; the grand opening of the Adeline campground; the First Lutheran Christmas pageant; at least three potholes (one major, two minor).

“What do you think we’re going to find?” Kelley asked.

“I’m hoping Tessa Kanty’s checkered past.”

I opened up the first paper and began reading. “Do you have a pen?” I asked.

Kelley went back to the couch and dug under the cushions. “Red or black?”

I took the red. Twenty minutes later I’d circled seven items:

January 20, 1985

11:39 pm A 17-year-old Adeline resident was brought in for suspected petty larceny. She was later released.

May 17, 1985

2:33 pm An 18-year-old Adeline resident was arrested for petty larceny. The charge was dropped.

May 18, 1985

12:34 am Investigated domestic disturbance on Main Street. The caller, a 21-year-old Adeline resident, reported being pushed and struck by an 18-year-old woman. Officers gave the woman a warning.

June 7, 1985

7:28 pm An 18-year-old Adeline resident was arrested for petty larceny. The charge was dropped.

June 8, 1985

1:23 am Noise disturbance reported on Main Street in Adeline. An 18-year-old woman and a 21-year-old man were cited.

July 21, 1985

12:47 am An 18-year-old resident of Adeline and her passenger, an 18-year-old resident of Ardelle, were stopped on suspicion of underage drinking and driving under the influence of alcohol. The passenger was released; the driver was charged.

July 22, 1985

11:08 pm Caller reported concern about man and woman on Main Street in Adeline whom he could hear yelling. Officer investigated and filed report. An 18-year-old resident of Adeline and a 21-year-old resident of Adeline were each issued a warning.

I sat back. “Just so I’m sure, how many eighteen-year-old girls were living in Adeline in 1985?” I asked.

Kelley looked at me. “Just one.”

“And how old would Eli have been back then?”

“About twenty-one.”

I pointed to the second-to-last item. “And, here, the DUI—the eighteen-year-old companion—is there any chance that was the man who was arrested for the robbery?”

“Jared Vincent,” Kelley supplied. “And yeah, that sounds right. He was from Ardelle, so I didn’t know him, but I think he graduated the same year Tessa would have.”

“Would have?”

She hesitated.

“I’m not Peter—you don’t have to shut me down. I’m not here to write some exposé.”

“Just because I like you doesn’t mean I know you any better.”

I studied Kelley. Today her hair was twisted into a forest of messy buns, and she had three earrings in her left ear and four in her right. Her lips were waxy with ChapStick. Her eyes were brown and warm. I’d never had to ask anything from someone like her—from someone who wasn’t somehow icky on the inside.

I decided to try something new.

“Well, what if you did?” I said. “Know me better.”

“Are you saying there’s something I should know?”

“Yes.”

“And will you tell me what it is if I ask?”

“Yes.”

She sat in silence, thinking it over. Then she nodded to herself and lifted her head. “Deal.”

I let out a breath. She hadn’t needed to ask, I realized, but I’d needed to offer. It was like mutually assured destruction. Just . . . nicer.

Her smile turned wicked. “But if your secret something is that you like ladies, too, I have to tell you: Leo’s going to be super pissed.”

I laughed despite myself.

She settled back against the couch. “Okay, so here’s what I can tell you—it’s not much, I’m afraid. All us Adeline kids actually knew Tessa pretty well. Like I said, she was the only teenage girl there, which meant she had a monopoly on the baby-sitting business. We probably saw her—oh, two or three times a week.”

I tried to picture my mother as a baby-sitter. “Was she any good at it?”

“I don’t know if my mother would have said so, but I thought she was. Tessa wasn’t much into rules, you know? Like, whenever she watched us we’d get to stay up past our bedtimes and paint our toenails purple. Even little Billy Freeman. That’s kind of what I remember best about her. That she was fun.” She paused. “And that she was pretty, of course, but everyone remembers that.”

“You liked her.”

“Well—yes.”

My brain was busy shorting out, so it took me some time to figure out what to say next.

“What was her relationship with Eli like? From those police reports it sounds like they didn’t get along too well.”

Kelley’s gaze flickered then firmed. “You should probably take that with a grain of salt. The police were always giving Eli and Tessa trouble. ‘The Kanty Curse,’ Renee calls it. Until Cora came around, the family . . . well, they didn’t have the best reputation. Tessa and Eli could’ve been fighting over the Atari and the cops would’ve cited them for it.”

“Kelley,” I said. “Again: I’m not Peter.”

She sighed. “Okay, yeah, so they weren’t blameless, either. Eli and Tessa had their problems. Who
wouldn’t
have had problems? I mean, first their mother died, then their father died, and then they were saddled with that mortgage and Tessa had to drop out of school so she could work. And before Eli enlisted he was—different. Still really focused and driven, but he didn’t know how to control his temper. Neither did Tessa, for that matter.”

“Why do you think she left?”

“I don’t think there was necessarily any, like, one inciting event.” Kelley said. “I think she just left to . . . get out. We all know so much about each other here—and we all
think
we know so much about each other—that sometimes I think this place acts like a . . . like a funhouse mirror, you know? None of the glass here is flat anymore. And some people can’t take it.”

“But not you?”

“I like the distortion.”

I stacked the papers and set them aside. “Do you think she robbed that bank with Jared?”

Kelley pinched her lip between her fingers. “Look,” she said, “if you tell Renee I said this, I’ll scratch your face off, but yes: I absolutely think she robbed that bank. Like I said—she wasn’t much into rules.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

I watched as a stream of bulky-jacketed people made its way down Tesmond toward the VFW post, a chunky gray building with aluminum siding and a roof pitched at the steep angles of a Swiss chalet.
STRIP STEAK 1ST SAT
, the sign outside read.
BREAKFAST SUNDAY. REDEMPTION NEVER.

Okay, it might not have said that last part. But it was starting to feel that way.

I took a hard right and slipped into the alley between an abandoned hardware store and an abandoned bakery. I pressed my forehead against the cool, crumbling brick. Almost five days out in the world, and what had I learned?

A) My uncle was definitely an asshole.

B) My mother was maybe a criminal.

C) My father was probably American.

Three for shitty three.

From my lips issued forth, long and low, that most holy of words:

Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuck.

I closed my eyes. Dammit. It wouldn’t be long before the press—or worse, Trace—tracked me down. And I still had so many questions.

Like about Jared: Had my mother really betrayed him? Was he still in jail? Or had he gone to L.A. ten years ago to pay her back?

Then there was Eli. Had my mother left town because of him? Had she wanted to leave L.A. because of him, too?

And who the hell was my father?

I looked back around the corner of the bakery toward the VFW. I had to go—I had to keep pushing for information. I couldn’t let Leo or anyone else scare me away. I was Janie Fucking Jenkins, for shit’s sake. People were supposed to be scared of
me
.

I straightened and told my legs to get moving.

Their response was a resounding, “Bitch, please.”

My resolve dissipated in an instant. Janie Fucking Jenkins, indeed.

Maybe I could find my courage somewhere else. I leaned back against the wall and pulled out my phone. I typed a message.

Hi Noah

It took five minutes for him to write back.

What’s wrong?

Nothing just wanted to say hi
Hi

I have to go into a meeting.

I blinked. Okay, then. I tried something else:

I also wanted to say thank you

Now I know something’s wrong.

Wow. Harsh.

But then the phone rang, and I smiled.

“I thought you were going into a meeting,” I said.

“Is this Janie Jenkins? This is Kurt Johnson, and I’m calling from
NBC Nightly
—”

I threw the phone against the wall as hard as I could. I told myself to breathe, but my lungs were apparently in league with my legs.

It rang again.

I picked the phone up and smashed the screen against the siding—twice.

It was still ringing.

I checked the screen. It wasn’t even cracked.

“What the
fuck
.”

“You need to remove the SIM card.”

I looked up. Leo flicked the cigarette he’d been smoking out into the street and reached for my phone. He silenced the ringer. “Do you have a paper clip?”

My mouth closed, opened, then closed again. I reached into my bag and dug into its depths. Pen, no. Tampon, no. Scissors, no. I pulled out a pair of pink steel-point tweezers. “Will these do?”

Leo took the tweezers and did something with them to the side of the phone. He popped out a chip, which he tossed on the ground and crushed with the heel of his boot.

He gave the tweezers back to me. “Handy.”

“They’re also good for fine and ingrown hairs,” I said.

“So what was that all about? Problems with an ex-boyfriend?”

“Yeah, something like that. Thanks for your help.”

“I’m not
all
bad.” He dropped my phone into my bag, then reached over and tugged up my coat collar. “Why don’t I walk you over to the VFW—make sure you don’t get lost.”

“What, you’re a gentleman now?”

“If it suits my purposes.”

“It’s only across the street.”

“Just walk with me, would you?”

His hand settled against the small of my back and sparked something across my skin, something I no longer had a name for. I was a blind man who’d forgotten which color’s which.

“I heard you were looking for me,” he said.

“I thought you didn’t answer Billy’s calls.”