Raveled (24 page)

“One more thing
,” she said. “And this I definitely should’ve told the police in case Bobby used it.”

“
Used what?”

“He shoved a dispo
sable camera in that cooler. One of those cheap ones that you only use for a night. He didn’t think I saw him, but I did.”

I
limited my reaction to a jaw clench and a mild tremble but my teeth chomped down hard on the lining of my mouth. “Camera? Bobby had a camera with him the night he died?”

“
Well, he had it with him when he left the store that night.”

Stupid, emaciated
wench. If the police had known that, they could have searched high and low for that camera. It might have offered real clues to Bobby’s whereabouts. Maybe he took a picture of his drinking buddies or of Artie’s Autos before his arrival. Maybe he got a photo of his killer.

I gasped.

Unbidden, a potential photograph flashed through my mind. An image I’d seen a few times myself. I saw it as a Polaroid picture unrolling itself like an accusatory scroll. First would come the heavy work boots, splattered with oil and red clay soil, then the grey jumper on the lean, slightly bowed legs. At chest level would be those magnificent, capable hands, still dirty from a hard day’s work, the nails stained with the grease that never quite came off. In the hands would be a gun, old and well-used. Then the narrow shoulders and veiny neck, and finally, my father’s face, his black saucer eyes filled with a visceral hatred as they stared at the helpless, squirming figure of Bobby Kettrick, wielding nothing but a disposable camera.

I
needed that camera, but it might kill me to see it.

Chapter
33

Bobby… sixteen years ago

Bobby pulled Shelby in on the rope just enough so he could focus on her chest and make sure that her face was in the frame, too. Before Shelby realized what he was doing, he snapped the shutter twice on the camera he’d stolen from Westerling’s. He sure hoped that Amber chick worked every Friday from now on. He and Smitty and Jasper could make out like bandits.

“Bobby Kettrick! You stop that!”
Shelby shouted.

“Why?”

“I don’t want nobody seeing those pictures!”

“Not even me?”

Shelby smiled and blinked her eyes slowly at Bobby the same way movie stars did to leading men. He knew she was hoping that these photos might win her the most coveted spot in the school—as his girlfriend. He watched her face flush just thinking about it. Who knew? Maybe he’d make it happen for her.

Bobby
adjusted his boxers. He’d need to take off his jeans soon. It was getting crowded down there. He set the camera on the loft and held Shelby in midair, still close enough that she could see his expression, which darkened considerably from the shy, playful boy he’d been five minutes ago.

Bobby’s voice
carried a new edge, sharp enough to draw blood. “I’ll tell you exactly what I’m gonna do with those pictures, Shelby.”

Shelby frowned, uncomfortable with Bobby’s sudden change in demeanor.
She clutched the itchy rope closer to her body, her shirt still dangling from her wrist, which was still attached to the primary rope.

Bobby grinned, but not the way he had earlier. “I’m gonna go down to Westerling’s General Store and I’m gonna develop those pictures. At least three copies. And the first
set, I’m gonna keep under my pillow.”

Shelby couldn’t decide between being flattered
or scared. She half smiled but then withdrew it.

“
I’ll let you figure out what I’m gonna do while I’m staring at it. The second set, I’m gonna hang in the boys’ bathroom at the high school. You’re familiar with boys’ room, aren’t you, Shelby?”

Shelby’s face
clouded over as she realized that a lot of the horrible stuff she’d heard about Bobby Kettrick might be true.

“And the third
set, well that’s going right through the United States Postal Service. Gonna mail those pictures to your father. Maybe blow ‘em up into poster size first.”

Shelby forced a nervous giggle. “Bobby, would you get serious, please? I know you’re only kidding around. Come on, pull me in and we can finish those beers and talk a while.”

“Talk, Shelby? Talk? Gimme a break.”

“
This ain’t funny no more,” she said. “Now you bring me in.” Shelby reached down and awkwardly grabbed the anchor rope with one hand, trying to pull herself in while muttering something about her father being right. Bobby let out the slack on the rope and Shelby found herself farther from the loft than when she’d started.

“That’s not funny,” she said again, though it was evident to both of them that the humor of the situation had left the
building several minutes ago.

She
tried to reel herself in again, but Bobby released it some more.

“You keep doing that
,” Bobby said, “and I’ll have to let go altogether.” He dangled the very end of the rope loosely between his fingers. With his other hand, he reached over to an open beer and sucked down a big gulp.

Shelby began to cry. “You’re a bastard, you know that, Bobby?”

“Oh come on,” Bobby said, softening his expression. “I’m just playing. You know I’m gonna let you in.”

“You are?” Shelby said, wiping
her nose with her shirt.

“’Course.
Did you think I was serious just now?”

Shelby breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe he wasn’t so bad after all.
“I don’t know.”

“So you wanna come in now?”

“Yeah, I’m getting tired.”

“
Okay. You just gotta show me what’s under that bra first.”

“
What?” she said, shaking her head and trying to figure out which Bobby she was dealing with on a moment-by-moment basis.

“Show me what’s under there,” he said,
dipping his head toward her chest before finishing the beer and tossing the can back over his shoulder.

“No way. I’ll sit up here all night ‘fore I do that.”

“Oh come on,” Bobby said. “I can already see everything anyway. With the sweat pouring down your chest, that bra is like glass.”

Shelby glanced down. Her mouth fell open in surprise and she almost laughed. “Ohmigod,” she said. “I am so embarrassed. I get dressed in the closet half the time ‘cuz my brothers are always buzzing a
bout. I didn’t realize it’d gotten so sheer.”

“Come on, Shelby,” Bobby said, putting on
his reliable self-pity face. “You’re the hottest girl coming into high school next year and you know it. I mean, look at you. You’re all grown up.”

Shelby’s need to be liked
—maybe even popular—trumped any threats of sexual blackmail. As Bobby suspected it would.

He played his final card. “I mean, we could be a couple next year.
That would be so cool.”

Shelby could barely contain herself.

Bobby could see her reviewing all the hushed conversations she and her friends had held over the years about when it was okay to go to first base, second, third, and all the way home. Right now, he’d settle for second. Apparently, so would Shelby.

“All right
,” she said. “But you gotta throw down that camera. I ain’t having—”

Before she
could finish her ultimatum, Bobby tossed the camera. It flew high in the air like a football in search of a wide receiver, then it peaked and fell towards the hay below, traveling fast for its light weight, as if carrying the darkness of its owner’s threats. It landed softly, making only a scuff of sound.

“There,” Bo
bby said. “See? I was just messing with you. Now come on, show your new boyfriend what’ll be under his prom date’s dress next year.”

That did it for Shelby. A freshman going with Bobby Kettrick to the prom? She’d be the envy of
even the senior girls. “All right,” she said, “but then you really gotta let me in. This seat’s getting sweaty and my arms are about tuckered out.”

“I swear on my mother’s heart.” Bobby wasn’t even sure his mother had a heart. She was such a drip.
Treated him like he was five, stood up for him when she should’ve whooped his ass, and worshipped the ground he walked on when she should have knocked his feet out from under him. Probably should’ve had more kids so she could’ve spread her attention around a little, but even with her laser-like focus on him and his dad, she never seemed to have a clue what either of them was really up to. Christ, how could she not know about his dad’s girlfriends over the years? Bobby knew of at least three, and he’d figured it out when he was twelve.

Shelby’s
giggle and nervous intakes of breath brought him back to the present. Besides, he didn’t want to think about his mother right now. He gnashed his teeth and let his nostrils flare as he prepared to take in the fullness of the moment.

The bra had one of those front clasps
, nothing but a tiny, throwaway piece of plastic. Amazing that it held at all. Shelby reached up and unhooked it. It was so hot, she had to shimmy to get the material from her skin. When it finally fell away, her breasts poured out, more beautiful than he’d imagined, far whiter than the rest of her. Like pure, virginal snow. They bobbed up and down as Bobby toyed with the anchor rope a bit. Hell, maybe he really would make her his girlfriend. For a little while, at least. It would take a good month before he could get his fill of those. He had to touch them.

“Okay?” Shelby said, her voice reminding Bobby how young she was.

Didn’t seem fair to put such grown-up boobs on a young girl. They were like something out of Playboy. How was a guy supposed to control himself? He began to question if he could.

Chapter
34

Allison… present

Amber wanted to be best buds after unloading her conscience on me, but I managed to dump her back on her husband, much to his dismay. My drink long drained, I hit the bar again to fuel me through the search for my real target. The bartender grinned upon seeing me alone for the second time that night. He ran his fingers through his hair—unsuccessfully due to all the gel—and tried out his best line. “I think this alcohol is catalyzing our reaction.”

He wouldn’t last a minute at Puccio’s. I winked, told him I’d be back later
, and tipped him another buck. He winked back, but went too big and put his rotting back molar on display. Needing that drink more than ever, I turned and found myself staring into the plain, round face of John Smith, aka Smitty. Bullseye.

“What are you doing here, Allison? This is getting a little creepy.”

“Not that it’s your business, Smitty, but I’m here as Charlie’s date.”

“Charlie
Loughney? He wasn’t even in our class. And neither were you.”

“He had the tickets
,” I said with a shrug. “Don’t ask me.”

“
Exactly how long are you staying in town?”

“Again, Smitty. Business. Not yours.”

He stepped closer, into the space where girls in self-defense classes were taught to act, not think. I’d always preferred the latter; it had kept me alive this long.

“You seem to be making it my business,” he said.

To throw him off, I took a step in his direction, into the space where boys are taught to kiss, not talk. Smitty preferred the latter. He took a quick step back and said, “Go away.”

I gave his casual outfit a quick up-and-down. Multi-pocketed khaki
s and a collared Polo with short sleeves as if to emphasize his moral standing against biceps curls.

“Surprised Elise let you out of the house like that, Smitty,” I said,
invoking his mom’s first name.

“It’s none of your goddamn business how I dress for
my
reunion,” he said with a voice that told me he’d had three drinks so far, a bit stronger than he’d bargained for, and was sloshed enough that his guard would be down but not completely off. “Besides,” he said, “you wouldn’t know what it’s like to wear a suit and tie fifty weeks out of the year,
Barmaid
. Some of us go to great lengths to avoid them on vacation.”

Perfect. The opening I’d been hoping for. “Funny. Because I saw you Wednesday afternoon in
quite a nifty suit.”

His only reaction was a slight
retreat of his lips, as if a baker had punched his dough ball of a head from behind while trying to inject some air into it.

“You must be mistaken
,” he finally said.

Bad move, Smitty. I worried
again about the safety of our country in the hands of chumps like him. Why go the outright denial route? Why not make up something feasible or tell me to go fuck myself, as if what I saw or when I saw it was so inconsequential, it didn’t merit a response.

“No,” I said, enjoying
the mental image of him up against the ropes, “it was definitely you. Blue shirt, grey jacket, leather bag over your shoulder. Roomy enough for a short trip.”

“
What short trip?” he said, as if forgetting that he had the option to toss a drink in my face. Then, with a look of sudden realization “Wait. Oh yeah. You’re absolutely right. But news flash, Allison, I’m not telling you where I was going or what I was doing.”

I could see
he thought he had the upper hand now and was thinking about making a smooth departure. This would be my last chance to confront him before he left town. Time to jar the situation, abruptly and irreparably. “’Cuz I thought you might be going to visit Jasper Shifflett at Ravine Psychiatric. Surprise, surprise, he wasn’t in Oregon. Scared he might tell me something?”

I’d played my strongest hand
so I waited. Smitty might send the entire cousin brigade after me now, and they might not be as manipulable as Ervin.

“
Yeah, I knew he wasn’t in Oregon,” Smitty said, “but who gives a shit, because goddamn if he isn’t anywhere anymore, right Allison? He’s dead. It’s just me now, thank you very much. I’m the only one left.”

His anger grew, as if I had personally dispatched the other two members of his threesome.
“You have any idea what it’s like to be in your early thirties and already lose your two best friends from high school?”

“No, I don’t
,” I said. “Let’s see if I can think of a comparably horrid situation.”

He didn’t even hear me.
“Guess what?” he said. “It sucks. I mean, accidents happen, but—”

“What accidents?” I said.

He glanced at his drink but it offered no answer so he punished it by sucking it down. “Like this thing with Jasper. Food poisoning or something.”

“Oh, right,
” I said, “you never know.” I hoped the empty conversational filler would encourage him to continue down this path until he tripped himself up again.

“I thought coming back here tonight might remind me that there were other people from my childhood, other conne
ctions I could look back on without feeling like my entire childhood was wasted shit.” The volume of Smitty’s lament escalated. “But you know who I end up seeing here instead? You. Like a reminder of everything that went wrong that night. I look at you and I see your dad, always lookin’ like some demented, evil owl. I swear, Bobby wasn’t even—”

“Hey, honey, getting a little loud over here.” It was Kendra, his wife. She gave me a reluctant nod of acknowledgment as she rubbed h
er husband’s back to calm him down.

“
Bobby wasn’t even what, Smitty?” I said, ignoring Kendra.

Smitty sucked in a big gulp of air to answer, but physically stopped himself with a wobble of his head. He
glared at me, the steam from his nostrils melting the ice in my drink. “Don’t come in here trying to trip me up.”

“Tri
p you up about what, Smitty? The truth? Why don’t you just come out with it?”

“What are you
two talking about?” Kendra said, one hand on her hip and the other now resting on her pregnant belly. She’d turned to face me directly so I guess Smitty had two generations of Mama Bears to protect his sorry ass.

“
We were talking about Jasper and Bobby,” I said to dismiss her. “Smitty got a little upset.”

“
It didn’t sound like—” Kendra started.

“Weird how Jasper’s place burned down, too,” I said,
directing my evil owl eyes at Smitty to catch his reaction.

Smitty frowned, but Kendra picked up where
an innocent person was supposed to. “What do you mean—
too
? What else burned down?”

“
A barn,” I said. “When we were teenagers. Smitty remembers it.”

“What
does that have to do with the fire at Jasper’s trailer?” Kendra said.

Smitty put his arm around h
is wife’s missing waist. “Ignore her, Kendra. She’s trying to start trouble.” He dragged her away in caveman fashion.

The lights shut off suddenly and a slide show sprang to life, accompanied by a poorly projected, better-forgotten sound track of nineties songs. A drunken woman I didn’t
know narrated the slides with her mouth too close to the microphone. She eventually gave up as she realized she didn’t recognize half the people in the photos and couldn’t keep saying, “How ‘bout that guy, huh?”

Photos flashed by.
Boys making goofy faces in the hallway, girls playing basketball in gym class, clusters of kids celebrating after football games or sitting bored in classrooms. Pictures of couples with their arms linked in the hallways, geeks working on computers, jocks high-fiving, and girls striking slutty poses. The bursts of laughter and shouts of, “I remember that!” came as if written into a script. Then the music took on a more somber tone and close-up pictures of four deceased classmates haunted the screen for ten seconds each. Seemed abbreviated for a lifetime tribute, but an eternity to the daughter of the girl whose father had killed the one yet to come up.

And there he was. Bobby Kettrick. Looming larger than life, in full color. It was a
n excellent likeness and I didn’t realize until that moment how immeasurably handsome and photogenic Bobby was. Separated from his personality and presented as nothing but two-dimensional eye candy, he offered a delectable blank slate. It wouldn’t be much of a stretch to pile on myth and romance, layer it with hyperbole and lore, and then watch as the image rose upon a grander pedestal each year.

To my side
, I saw Smitty turn and burn a hole through my soul with his eyes.

From the corner of the room, a
wasted, former football player raised his glass and shouted, “To Bobby!” His mostly inebriated classmates followed suit and echoed the deep sentiment, but I noticed the men did it with far more enthusiasm than the women, Bobby’s reputation reverberating differently with each gender. Surely, more than a few of the women in the room had experienced three-dimensional Bobby and hadn’t appreciated his real-life charms.

A few minutes later, it was my turn to watch Smitty. The slide show had morphed into a retrospective on Lavitte, showing it over the years from
1940 to today. I would have given credit to the intoxicated woman for her research efforts, but having recently seen Jasper’s yearbooks, I knew she’d simply scanned the photos from the annual section called
Our Town
.

When a photo of the
Hesters’ three-story barn popped up on the screen, several students shouted, “Whoo-hoo!”—no doubt remembering the parties, bonfires and sex they’d had there for the short duration of the barn’s existence. I wasn’t expecting this opportunity, but since Charlie had mentioned the rumors about the barn, and since the barn had met its demise in the same fashion as Jasper’s place, I glanced at Smitty while the picture was still up.

A
picture truly was worth a thousand words. In fact, Smitty’s reaction to that barn offered up far more than a paltry thousand. He lowered his eyes and pulled away from Kendra who was trying to laugh along with pictures she knew nothing about. He swigged the remainder of his newest drink, then turned and lurked close to the bar, his back to the screen. He didn’t turn around again, not even to see the picture of Jasper they’d tossed in at the last minute as a tribute to his recent passing. The picture couldn’t have been more perfect, and I’d swear Jasper was talking to me from the grave. It showed him putting his hands in the air and smirking, as if to say,
what are you gonna do
, while Smitty and Bobby sprayed each other with fire extinguishers in the background.

Soon after the slide show, Smitty tried to leave but got assaulted with a shoulder slap from Stuart, the bald guy who’d gotten a hard-on over Charlie’s arrival.

“How ‘bout this guy, huh?” Stuart said to Kendra and another woman. “Bigwig at the Pentagon, whipping up secret formulas to take out the Russkies and the Chinamen.”

Smitty made a feeble attempt to brush him off but the guy was plastered and clearly in need of an updated history book. “I bet you deal with a lot of scumbags, am I right?” Stuart slurred. “Lots of crazy informants and drug dealers who go undercover for you and whatnot?”

“Sometimes,” Smitty said, his ego no doubt inflating. “You’d be surprised at the range of people I deal with. But it’s mostly chemists and scientist types.”

Chemists and scientist types? Who better to poison an old friend?

Smitty caught sight of me sitting on a muted speaker, within earshot of their conversation. I glared at him like Little Red Riding Hood cornering the wolf when she’s figured out how to turn the tables on him. He jerked away from Stuart, shook his hand, and told him to look him up if he was ever in D.C. Within moments, he got the hell out of there, a wide-eyed Kendra in tow.

I spent most of the rest of the evening being ignored and fending off dirty looks as people’s inhibitions and common courtesies gave way to the alcohol. For the final fifteen minutes, I hung around with my own kind—the help—until Charlie appeared and deemed the reunion lame.

“Let’s get out of here, Sunshine. I got contact numbers from the only two people who amounted to more than a hill of beans from this class. I mean, seriously, do they think the heads I hunt have red necks? Because they most decidedly do not. Sorry I ignored you.”

“No problem, Charlie,” I said, and meant it. “I got everything I needed. And then some.”