“Believe it, sweetie.” Beth crossed her arms and leaned against the door frame.
“I’M NEVER COMING BACK HERE!” Lisa turned toward the back door. She jammed her feet into red open toed shoes with seven centimeter heals. “WHERE’S MY LUGGAGE?”
“In the taxi,” Beth said.
“IT BETTER BE!” Lisa yanked at the door, stopped, turned the dead bolt and heaved. The door knob punched a hole in the drywall. Beth was left with a cloud of peach perfume. The front door bell rang.
Scout barked.
Beth opened the back door screen just long enough to watch Lisa slam the gate, scuff her heels down the driveway and step up to the side of the taxi. She climbed inside.
A Chevy Blazer pulled out from behind the V-Channel van.
The taxi pulled away.
The Blazer followed.
A black haired man peered around the side of the garage.
Beth stepped inside and locked both doors.
The front doorbell rang again.
Scout barked.
“Shit!” Beth moved down the hall to the front door and looked through the peephole. The fish eye face of Ralph Devine peered back at her.
The phone rang. Beth ran for the kitchen.
Ernie sat, staring at the TV and holding onto Scout’s collar. “Can’t you get the phone?” Beth said.
Ernie’s surprise faded into a blank stare. He turned back to the TV.
Ernie won’t even fight, Beth thought. I wish he would fight back. She picked up the phone, “Hello!?”
“We’re outside.”
“Lane?”
“Yes. We’re ready whenever you are.”
“Thanks.” The tears started as Beth hung up. She sat at the kitchen table with her hands between her knees and felt her shoulders shake. Something cool and wet touched her hand. She looked down. Scout looked back at her. “Thanks girl.” Beth smiled.
A hand touched her shoulder. “You okay, Mom?”
She looked at Ernie then leaned till her head touched him.
Ernie said, “Don’t worry.”
The doorbell rang.
Scout barked and scampered for the front door.
Beth felt like she might start to laugh and never stop. “We have to go.”
“Want me to answer the door?” Ernie said.
“No. Just turn off the TV.”
A shadow appeared behind the curtains covering the sliding glass door. Knuckles rapped on the glass.
“Don’t answer it.” Beth looked around the kitchen. She saw her Mother leaning over the sink. Her Mother took a pull on a cigarette. Beth shook away the memories, pushed the chair in and stood to watch the silhouette behind the curtain. “Get Scout and we’ll get in the car.”
“Come on, girl,” Ernie said.
Scout bounded into the kitchen and barked at the silhouette. Beth turned to see if the stove was off. She opened the fridge. Empty.
“Let’s go,” Ernie said.
Beth walked through the family room to the door of the attached garage. Inside, the light in the belly of the garage door opener cast long shadows. Ernie held Scout’s leash in his left hand. He opened the car’s back door and shut it after Scout jumped inside.
Beth reached into her pocket for keys.
The passenger door’s hinge squeaked.
Beth said, “I forgot my shoes.”
Someone pounded on the garage door.
Beth got in and wrapped ten toes over top of the brake pedal. The 25 year old engine coughed and caught.
Beth said, “Ernie, the garage door opener.”
He reached, pressed the button. Light flooded inside.
Beth shifted into reverse. Left hand on the wheel, right hand on the back of the seat, she looked out the rear window. The garage door rose above the height of the trunk.
Beth eased her foot off the brake.
Ralph Devine peered under the door. On the other side, the dark-haired man lifted a TV camera to his shoulder.
“Just a few questions!” Devine said.
Beth concentrated on driving. The men on either side were shadows in her peripheral vision. A line of shade passed over the car.
“Shut the garage door,” Beth said.
The rear bumper scraped pavement as they bounced onto the street. She stepped on the brake, shifted into drive and looked ahead.
The camera man stepped off the curb and aimed his camera at Beth.
She turned the wheel to the left. “God I wish this car had power steering.” She eased forward.
The cameraman stepped back and fell backwards over the curb.
“I’ll get blamed for that,” Beth said. The engine shuddered, nearly stalling. She curved her toes over the top of the accelerator and pushed gently. The engine smoothed out. They passed the cameraman aiming his lens at Ernie. Scout bared her teeth, barking fog and saliva onto the window.
The car laboured its way up to 50 kph. In the rear view mirror, Beth saw Ralph Devine following the cameraman as they headed for the van.
Lane and Harper watched from behind a parked pickup truck. “Looks like we only have to worry about one vehicle,” Lane said.
Harper grabbed his notebook and flipped to a fresh page.
Lane pulled out to follow the van. “You still don’t like this.”
“No.” Harper plucked a pen from his shirt pocket. “Giving a reporter, especially this guy, a ticket doesn’t bother me. It’s the rest of it I don’t like.”
“Ever been close to a story Devine covered?” Lane matched his speed with the van’s to keep a block between them. Remember, he thought, you know where Beth’s headed, they don’t.
“Couple of times,” Harper said.
“Did he ever get at the truth?”
“Not even close.”
Lane nodded, “Lots of people in town think he’s great. Think he should run for mayor.” Lane watched the van run a stop sign. “Get that?”
Harper looked at his watch and wrote down the time. Then he read the street sign as they stopped at the corner. He wrote it down as well. “It’s not about V Channel’s reporting,” Harper said. “So far, we’ve got four deaths. If you’re right, then we’re dealing with five. Our job is to gather evidence and lay charges, not play judge and jury.”
Lane watched the van pull up behind Beth’s antique Dodge. Overhead, the trees lining Northmount Drive reached to touch one another. “Ever meet a 15 year old who goes into jail and comes out ten years later?”
“No.”
Lane tapped his temple with a finger, “Gets out and is still 15 up here.”
“This kid’s not going to jail. Besides, that’s not our problem.” “Who’s problem is it, then?” Lane said.
“The court’s.”
“And if we don’t gather all of the facts, then a decision is made on limited information. At least this way, two more people are going to know what happened. At least, that is, if Randy will tell them what he knows. His relationship with Ernesto obliges him to do that,” Lane said.
“Or it obliges him to lie and cover up what happened.
Isn’t the van following a little too close?”
“Got to be less than a car length.”
Harper glanced at his watch, noted the street running across Northmount and scribbled in his book. “I still think we should take Randy in for questioning and see what happens.” “He’s expecting that.” Ahead, yellow lights flashed over a pedestrian crossing. A woman with a baby carriage waited on the curb. Beth braked. The V Channel van locked its rear wheels. Blue smoke boiled around the tires. The van slid sideways. Lane smelled burnt rubber. The mother pushed her child across the street. She glared at the driver of the van.
“Close,” Harper said. He noted time and location. Beth pulled ahead and the van followed. “Questioning Randy can’t hurt.”
“Randy’s going to turn any interrogator inside out. After that, we’ll get nothing,” Lane said.
“Then you do the questioning.”
“He’s already told me as much as he’s going to tell.”
Harper said, “We got enough on the van?”
“I think so. Besides we’re getting close to the cemetery. Beth will be getting nervous.”