Finding Susan (7 page)

But Blake wasn’t feeling quite so bad anymore.
 
Maybe it was the lack of sleep, maybe it was his innate dislike of poor Joe Bob, but Blake was quite ready to call it a night.
 

With a bit of assistance from Kate, he was able to prop Joe Bob on his shoulder and walk him to the front door.
 
The big galoot pressed all of his weight down on Blake’s shoulder, making him stoop as he walked.
 
Blake wondered if Joe Bob was really feeling all that bad, or if he was just milking it.
 

Kate walked ahead of both of them, carrying the string of dead animals at arms length like it was a...
 
well, string of dead and stinky animals.
 
At least that was worth a chuckle, Blake thought, but he didn’t laugh.
 
All of this was the exact sort of thing he didn’t need.

Complications led to thinking and decision-making, and even in as innocuous a situation as this a wrong decision would have consequences, and those consequences would lead to others.
 
That was exactly what he was trying to stay away from.
 

Kate leaped down the porch and draped the string of dead things along the hood of the squad car.
 
She then hugged herself against the cold, making the curves that her t-shirt suggested all the more explicit.
 
That was another distraction that Blake didn’t need.
 

Oh well, eyes forward, he should be fine.

“Watch out!” Kate shouted, her hand shooting out in front of her as if she could catch the pair of men as they suddenly found themselves hurtling towards the ground.
 
The front boards of the porch were particularly rotten, and with the full weight of the two men being brought right down on one of the worst of them, that section of the porch decided to go.
 

Joe Bob was lucky, since he had Blake to break his fall.
 
After an instant of pain as Blake both hit the ground then was doubly struck by over two hundred pounds of man on top of him, Kate supplied the appropriate denouement with her snorts of laughter.
 
Blake didn’t even think she heard him say goodbye, but just before he left she gave him an appropriate farewell:

“So, when are you going to come back and fix my porch?”

Chapter Four

“Come back and fix my porch, can you believe that woman?” Blake said, starting the car and pulling out of the driveway.
 

“Gosh, Mr. Officer Spanner, I like Miss Becker.
 
She’s sure nice to me.”

Blake grunted.
 
“Only man I ever met who thinks the person who hits them with a taser gun is nice.”

“She didn’t mean nothing by it,” Joe Bob said.
 

Blake glanced at him, wincing at the string of dead things in his hands, hoping he wouldn’t leave any behind. His car wasn’t much, but it could do without that.
 
But Joe Bob looked like his old self again.
 

Still, he couldn’t wipe away the memory of what those eyes had looked like for a moment when he’d first come to.
 
It made him curious.
 
He’d never thought much about the man.
 
Did anyone?

“Well, Joe Bob, I guess you’re just more understanding than I am,” Blake said.

Joe Bob grinned stupidly.
 
“What d’ya mean, understanding?” he said.
 

“Just that I wouldn’t be so quick to forgive some woman that shocked the life out of me.
 
Say, do you do most of your hunting at night?”

Joe Bob just laughed and nodded.

“And you use Kate’s place to clean your kill?”

“Ms. Gladys, she always told me…”

“I know.
 
But she’s been gone and now Kate’s there.”

“I guess I forgot.”

“Forgot? How could you forget? Her car was right there in front of the house.”

“I go in through the back.”

Blake grunted. “Well, remember next time.
 
Okay? Find someplace else to clean your kill.”

“Sure.
 
I didn’t mean no harm.”

Blake grunted again and headed down the highway.
 
“Come back and fix my porch,” he muttered again.
 
“For Pete’s sake.”
 

***
***
***

Kate watched the red tail lights disappear down the driveway and suddenly felt very much alone. She pulled in her arms tightly, hugging herself, then went around to check all the doors and windows. Finally she turned on one of the lanterns that Blake had brought in for her and sat on the couch and stared at the shadows. What the crap was she doing here?

“Susan,” she murmured aloud. “Where the hell are you?”

It was times like this, late at night, that were the worst for worrying about her sister. Every bad outcome, every scary thought, came swooping in and took over her brain.
 

But then, she’d always worried about Susan, and Susan always seemed to land on her feet. It was just that this time, something in her letters and occasional emails had been increasingly desperate sounding. And though the last one she got was cheerful—even hopeful—there still was that underlying sense of doom on the horizon.
 

She knew for sure Susan had planned to come here. Why hadn’t she ever arrived? If she could figure out where she’d started out from, maybe she could go back over her journey and find her that way. But she didn’t even know where she’d been living lately. Something about a hippie commune in Laurel Canyon or something. Or maybe that was last time? The vague way stations of Susan’s deterioration began to blur together.
 

Maybe the truth was that she was tired of worrying about her. That she was over the old panics. That she just didn’t have any more capacity for fear and loathing of the “save Susan” variety. All they had was each other. Their parents were gone, and now Aunt Gladys. All alone. She shivered again.
 

There was no way she was going to find her sister tonight. Time for bed. Again. Maybe she’d get some good sleep this time.

“Yeah. Lots of luck.”

***
***
***

When the first pair of hammering sounds came from downstairs, Kate thought it was a joke.
 
Maybe the duck, who quacked at discrete intervals all through the night just to keep her awake, had organized a cadre of animal noise makers to start banging on her porch.
 
Stood to reason.
 
Why not?
 
But when it started up with regularity, she knew someone had to be down there.
 

“Well, no rest for the weary,” she mumbled to herself, and sat up.
 
With sunlight driving through the windows where yesterday afternoon it just came in limply, the house did not look nearly as foreboding.
 
It did, however, look much dirtier.
 

Kate had slept in her old room, but in a sleeping bag on top of the bed, and she was glad she did.
 
The bed had a nice assortment of leaves, dirt, and dust all now in a vague, sleeping bag shape.
 

For just a moment she forgot about the pounding sounds downstairs - all she could think was she wanted to take a shower.
 
Her trip to the bathroom was depressing, though.
 
The tub seemed to be in working order, but the window was blacked over by a sheet of tarpaulin and very little light came into the place at all.
 
From what little she had, she could see and distinct filthy black ring surrounding the tub.
 
She turned on the water, and for a moment she thought the pounding noise was coming from the plumbing.
 
Then she remembered downstairs, and hammering.
 

She quickly pulled on jeans and a shirt, and covered her unwashed hair in a baseball cap.
 
Sheesh
, she thought, back in Whispering Pines for just one day and already I’m a tomboy again.
 

“Damn it!” came a shout from beyond the front door, and then some more hammering.
 
Kate raced down the stairs, glancing for just a moment at the living room, newly lit by the sun.
 
It was indeed just as depressing as it seemed yesterday in the dark.
 
There was a lot of work to be done in this house, and she didn’t really know if she was up to it.
 

“Ow!” came the shouter again.
 
Kate opened the door, and stopped just before walking out on the porch, which was being repeatedly struck by a hammer and shaking with every blow.
 
It was Blake who was doing the striking, trying to knock a board of wood into place.
 
As he hammered, the wood to which he was trying to secure the new board was breaking away or sinking in.
 
It was all rotted.

“I have a lot more stuff inside that’s not up to snuff.
 
If you come inside and break it, I’ll let you fix that too,” Kate said.
 

Blake looked at her for a moment, shook his head and brought the hammer down again.
 
There was a loud crack, and then the porch started to sag away from the rest of the house.

“I don’t think your porch is in very good shape,” Blake said.

“That is the very reason you’re such a good detective, Blake Spanner, because you have such fine deductive reasoning skills.”

“Are you just going to stand there making fun of me?”

“Yes,” Kate said.
 
She smiled down at Blake, thinking he looked exceptionally good in snug jeans and a body-hugging t-shirt, and for a moment-as though he could read her mind- he looked flustered.

“Well...
 
uh...
 
good work, then,” he said, and hit the porch again with a hammer.
 
It must have been a good, solid blow, because the entire thing came unmoored from the house and started to tip to the side, breaking down.
 
Now Kate couldn’t even leave the house through the front way.
 

“You know, Blake, I did ask you to come and fix the porch.
 
Maybe I’ve been gone from Whispering Pines too long and there are some quirks of dialect I’ve forgotten, but...”

“Yeah, yeah.
 
Look, Kate, this is my day off, and I’m here trying to help, okay? I think it’d be really nice if you didn’t spend the whole time snarking at me.
 
Soon as I’m done, I’ll be out of your hair and you won’t have to think about old Blake Spanner ever again.”

“I’ll do you one better.
 
I’ll make you some coffee.”

“Uh...
 
or you could do that,” he said.

Kate closed the door, which must have been integral in some manner to the structural integrity to what remained of the porch, because the moment the door closed she heard the rest of it come crashing down.
 
Blake cursed again, and then, just a moment later, the hammering started up again.
 
She grinned and wondered why a little thing like a visit from an old friend could do so much to lift her spirits.
 

***
***
***

“You cleaned the mugs out before you made the coffee, right?” Blake said.
 
He seemed very concerned that Kate might be trying to poison him with a simple cup of coffee.
 

“I ran them through a de-tox program.
 
It’s as if nothing but the coffee has ever touched its porcelain form.”

“Long as you cleaned it,” he said, and he took a tentative sip before he went back out to work, carrying the silly mug in his hand.
 

It made Kate want to laugh, partly because it seemed so different from the Blake she remembered.
 
Sure, the sardonic distrust was always a feature of the man (and a welcome one, at that -kept him interesting) but the caution was something new.
 
When they were kids, Blake would be the one to rush headlong into situations.
 
He always had a concern for other folks’ safety, but Kate just figured it was because he was the older and he knew he’d get in trouble if anything happened while they were out in the woods.

Except Kate didn’t have anyone to answer to.
 
Certainly Gladys wouldn’t have cared two figs about what happened to the kids in the woods.
 
If ever one of the girls got hurt out there, they’d have to take care of it themselves.
 
They were mother to each other.
 

Blake had gone back to work on the porch and she was sunk in thoughts of childhood. She walked out the front door without thinking and the next thing she knew, she was falling through the air.
 

Blake was fast. He saw what was happening out of the corner of his eye and he was there to catch her before she hit the two by four she was aiming at.
 

He grabbed her out of the air and swung her around, his hands losing track of where they were and landing in some inappropriate places on her well-toned body. He quickly pulled back and set her on her feet.
 

She looked up at him, embarrassed about doing something so stupid but not about to let him know that.
 

“What are you trying to do, Blakey, cop a feel?” she said with a smirk.
 

“Damn it, Kate.” He stared down into her brown eyes and the room seemed to tilt. “If I want to cop a feel, you’ll know it. I won’t sneak around to do it.”

Slowly, deliberately, his hand slid up under her shirt and cupped her breast.
 

He’d never done that before!

Kate was okay. She was good. She was ready to laugh it off and pull away and go on with her day. Except for one little thing. She forgot how to breathe.
 

If she could have only taken a deep, nourishing gulp of air, she knew she would have had something smart-ass and caustic to say. But without it, she was lost. She stared up into Blake’s starry gaze and when he kissed her, she kissed him back.