She turned to run out of the bathroom and to go show her dad. This was exactly the kind of thing he’d told her to look out for since the therapy started. But she stopped herself. He’d overreact like always and they’d be off to the hospital for more tests. She had better things to do. Cathy stepped closer to the mirror to examine the spots. The blotches looked like bruises but when she pressed on them they weren’t sore at all. She inspected the rest of her body put found no other sign of the marks anywhere else. That made her feel better. The blotches were probably just a reaction to something she wore.
Still, it was weird. And being so tired all the time made it worse. She worried that maybe the medicine wasn’t working and the sickness was back. She didn’t have a check up until next week but her last visit hadn’t shown anything. Her dad told her the therapy was a sure thing, that she was lucky to get it because not many people did. That was why she wasn’t supposed to tell anyone about it. Her dad said if she told anyone then the medicine would be taken away. And people died from what she had.
Now, looking in the mirror at the purple splotches, she couldn’t decide what to do. It was times like this when she missed her mom the most. She was past feeling angry that she was gone and just felt miserable and lonely instead. But Cathy couldn’t ask her mom, the cancer had taken care of that, so she decided to keep it to herself. There was no way she’d ever ask her dad’s new wife. Barbie was the last person Cathy would trust with a secret.
She pushed the whole thing out of her mind. If she wore a high collar, no one would know. She’d just take it easy for the next couple of days and the marks would go away. She cursed under her breath when she remembered it was Wednesday. She had to work after school. Working had been a battle with her dad and she knew he was waiting for her to give up on it just to say he told her so. She could call in sick but if word got back to her dad that she hadn’t shown up for work then the party at Gertie’s this weekend would be off for sure. She couldn’t let that happen.
Cathy Moran threw on her clothes, double checked the mirror to make sure none of the purple blotches showed, grabbed her book bag, and headed downstairs. She had a long day ahead of her and all she could think about as she walked down the stairs was how soon she could get back to sleep.
TWENTY-THREE
Max Dahl brought a six pack of Heineken with him. He and Jack sat out on the back porch enjoying the rare warm afternoon. Usually this time of year the temperature was down in the forties during the day, so sixty degrees in the early evening was something to celebrate.
Jack knew why Max was there. Prescott City was a small town and he was sure rumors were flying. At least Max was up front about it. “Man, you screwed up big time,” was his greeting when he first pulled in the driveway. Now that Jack had given him the whole story, Max leaned back in the teak patio chair and shook his head.
“Jack,” he finally said, reaching for another beer, “that is one hell of a story.” He popped the top and drained half the bottle. “You are either into some strange stuff or…”
“Or what?”
“Or you are completely full of shit.”
“C’mon! I can understand that pompous ass Janney giving me grief, but you?”
“Hey, I didn’t say I don’t believe you. It’s just that it’s, I don’t know, so weird.”
Jack rolled his eyes. “Oh, much better. Jesus, why would I make something like this up?”
“See, that’s the thing. I don’t think you would. I know you weren’t drunk since I was with you. I figure you have insurance. Even if you didn’t, you have more money than God, so you wouldn’t fake it to get out of paying the guy’s medical bill.”
“O.K., so what’s left?”
“I’m your friend so I can tell you this.” Max leaned over and lowered his voice to a whisper. “Know what I think? Under this good guy exterior lurks a psychopath hell bent on ridding the world of cheap domestic cars.”
Jack stood up. “Come on, this is serious.”
The glass slider opened and Sarah walked out carrying construction paper and a box of crayons. She walked over to her dad and tugged on the bottom of his sweater. “Will you color with me?”
Jack reached down and rubbed the top of her head. “In a little bit, Bud. Why don’t you sit at the table and start?” he said, nodding toward the patio table. Sarah stuck out her bottom lip and stared up at him. Jack laughed, “Go on, I’ll be over in a little bit. We’ll work on your numbers.”
Sarah smiled. She looked over at Max and piped, “Hi Uncle Max,” and then headed off to the patio table.
“Smart like her mom, huh?” Max said. “Jesse’s the same age as Sarah and we’re nowhere close to worrying about numbers yet.”
“Don’t let her enthusiasm fool you. You’d be hard pressed to understand anything she writes down. A bunch of well meaning squiggly lines. She’ll get it eventually though. She just needs time.” No sooner were the words out then he regretted them. Max winced, but didn’t say anything. A black shadow drifted over the two men even though the sun still shone in the cloudless sky.
“Max… I’m sorry… I…”
Max held up his hand, “Don’t worry about it. I find myself saying stuff like that all the time.”
She just needs time. Jesse Dahl didn’t have time. Sarah would go to school, grow older, have a life. Jesse was going to die. Realizing that Max’s little girl would never learn to write made it all the more real.
Max spoke first. “Enough of that. Let’s talk about how you’re a big screw-up.”
Jack accepted the unspoken ground rule. No talk of disease today. “So, do you think I have anything worry about from Janney?”
Max thought it over. “Folks around here trust Janney. Shit, he’s been sheriff around here for almost twenty years. They think he’s an egotistical prick, but they trust him. But you have me as your alibi that you were drinking like a little girl before you left Piper’s. The only risk is that someone at Piper’s wasn’t paying attention and decides they saw you drinking the whole time you were there.”
“But I wasn’t.”
“Yeah, but someone could have been confused. They see a bunch of empty bottles at our table, they see us having a good time, shooting pool and shooting the shit. Pretty soon they see you drinking beer after beer. After that nightmare with Albert James and we had that shot of whiskey? Maybe people think you needed more than one. They assume it, they think it makes sense, hell, they know they had more than one shot of whiskey after that mess. Soon enough, they see you taking shots.”
“What are you talking about? I had one beer the whole time I was there. Then that one shot with you.”
Max shrugged. “Sometimes people see things that aren’t real. I see it in court all the time. Two witnesses at the same event swear up and down that they saw different things. It’s not that they’re lying either. They believe what they saw. It’s just sometimes the mind makes jumps all on its own, plays connect the dots.”
“That’s not what happened.”
Max reached out and grabbed Jack’s forearm. “Your mind can play tricks on you, Jack. Make you think you saw something that really wasn’t there. And, sometimes, if you’re not careful, people get hurt because of it.”
Jack looked down at Max’s hand then back up at his friend. “Are we still talking about people in the bar or something else?”
Max’s stare lasted a few beats too long. Finally he broke his grip on Jack’s arm and gave him a wide smile. “I’m just saying you never know about those hillbillies at Piper’s. Hell, they might say you beat me at pool and we all know that’s a damn lie.”