We turned onto our street and were headed for the drive back into the alley when I spotted the patrol car.
"Oh great!" Sheila said. "Now he's having us staked out! If he's so worried why doesn't he let Daddy out?"
We swung around to the back, pulled up in the backyard, and climbed the stairs to the door.
Wombat, new to the situation, stepped over the threshold and sniffed. He trotted past us and walked right up to the spot where my intruder had died at Tony Carlucci's hands. Wombat sniffed, then yipped, and then without warning, urinated all over the floor.
"Oh gross!" Sheila cried.
I walked past her into the kitchen, picked up a roll of paper towels and a bottle of disinfectant, then handed them to my wrinkle-nosed daughter.
"Welcome to parenthood, baby," I said. "It's tough, but ultimately rewarding."
Sheila sighed. "Whatever."
Chapter Twenty-four
While Sheila cleaned up after Wombat, I listened to my messages. There were the usual assortment of hang-ups and solicitations, then Terry Griswald from the Mobile Home Kingdom came on.
"Ms. Reid," he said, his voice thin with anxiety. "The fellas heard about Vernell being arrested. I'm sorry, but done all of 'em walked out. I'm still here, though. Are you gonna be coming down anytime soon? I reckon we oughta talk. That VanScoy fella stopped by again. Said to tell you and Vernell it's seventy-five now. Well, all right, I guess. Call me."
He sounded desperate. I figured he was, too. Christmas would be coming up in six weeks. I knew he had a wife and new baby to think about. What was I going to do?
The next message was from Vernell himself. "Hey, baby," he said. "Listen, you've gotta take care of a couple of things for me." Yeah, right, like returning three million dollars to the Redneck Mafia. "Call Brenda McCoy at Cornerstone Realty and tell her to just hold on. I'll be ready to sign the contract in a couple of days. The same with the house, too. Tell her I want a full-price offer."
Then Vernell cleared his throat and hesitated. "Baby, listen, I don't want you to think nothing about this, but if she says anything about the Satellite Kingdom being up for sale, don't worry. I'm just selling off the land and the office. It's no big thing. I talked to the lawyer and all after you left. It don't look like I'll be leaving here for a little while, so I'm gonna need you to kinda step in and help me out." There was a pause and then Vernell spoke again, so softly I could almost not make out the two familiar words. "I'm sorry."
Sheila was standing in the doorway, listening, her eyes wide and red-rimmed.
"Why is Daddy in so much trouble?" she asked.
I shook my head. "I don't know, baby."
Wombat skittered into the room, sliding across the slick wooden floor, unable to stop himself before he crashed into the bed and fell backward. Sheila smiled and picked him up, snuggling him in her arms and burying her face in his soft fur.
The roar of a motorcycle running up into the backyard distracted the three of us. Tony Carlucci was back. How he'd managed to get back out to Bess King's farm, retrieve his bike, and return to Greensboro in such a short amount of time was beyond me, but I didn't care.
Sheila was past me, over to the door, outside, and down the steps. Tony smiled when he saw her, removed his helmet and pointed to little Wombat. As I watched from the doorway, she held the dog up to him and he slowly shook his head. He reached over and shut off the bike.
"What in the hell is that?" he said.
"Like, a dog," Sheila answered. "I think he looks like you." They laughed like old friends, until he looked up and saw me in the doorway.
"I suppose you're planning on working tonight," he said.
"Yep."
He looked at Sheila, watching her run after Wombat, her back to the two of us.
"How about I take her with me?"
"Not on that thing."
Sheila turned around, listening. "We can take the truck," she said. "That way Wombat won't be here alone. You know I can't leave him, don't you?" She turned to Tony, her face open and vulnerable. But he had gone dark on her. He stared past her, looking first at Wombat and then off down the alley. He was seeing Popeye. He was remembering and he was hurting.
It frightened Sheila. She didn't know and couldn't understand the rapid change that had come over Tony.
"He won't make a mess," she said, mistaking his hesitation.
Tony didn't answer her. Instead he rubbed his hands across his face and shook his head.
"Yeah, all right. We'll take the truck and drop your mama off at the club." The smile came back and the look he gave her reassured her. "But I'm gonna drag your ass out at two a.m. to go get her. This isn't some slumber party where you hang around painting your toenails and looking pretty. We've got some things to do. I can't be babysitting no kid, you got me?"
Sheila puffed up and gave him her best womanly look. "I'm not a kid. I can take care of myself, like, totally."
"Yeah, right," he said. "Whatever."
He'd done it. He'd worked her and she'd fallen for it.
"I've gotta take a shower and get changed," I said. "Why don't you two go pick up a pizza or something?"
Tony shook his head. "I'm not leaving you alone."
"You didn't see the patrol car in front of the house? I'll be fine. Go pick up a pizza and bring it back. You can drive the truck."
I reached into my pocket to fish out money, but Tony wouldn't take it.
"Wombat likes meat pizza," Sheila announced.
"Dogs don't get pizza. Dogs eat dog food."
Sheila was right back at him. "Wombat eats whatever I say he eats."
They argued all the way to the truck and were still fighting as they drove off. I watched them until they were out of sight, standing on my porch as the late afternoon sun dipped below the horizon. In the early evening dusk, the world seemed more sinister than it had a mere thirty minutes before. For a moment I felt as if someone were watching me, standing just outside my line of vision, following my every movement.
I shook it off, turned, and went inside, switching on every light I came to. The shades were still pulled down, the blinds and curtains closed. No one could see inside. No one could watch me here, but still I felt ill at ease. I walked through the house, into the living room and opened the front door. The cop car was gone.
"Okay," I muttered. "You were just here a minute ago. Where are you?"
It couldn't matter. I couldn't let this matter. Wherever he was, he'd be back. "It's probably just shift change," I said. "There'll be a new guy here any second. Go on, take your shower. Tony's picking up a pizza, but his bike's here. People will think he's here and I'm not."
But I couldn't shake the feeling of being watched. I closed the front door, locked it, and leaned against it. It was five fifteen by my watch. Outside people would be returning home from work or their classes at the college. Lights would start to pop on all over the neighborhood. No one would bother me now. It would be stupid to make a move now.
I walked into the bathroom, turned on the shower, and left to take my clothes off and grab my robe. I opened the closet door and felt the panic hit. I remembered him coming up behind me, throwing me against the far wall, his knife biting into my neck.
I raised my fingers up to touch the thin scab and felt myself begin to lose it. I froze, trembling, and crossed my arms to grab at my stomach.
"No, no, no," I moaned, rocking back and forth. "No. Stop this. It's okay. He's gone. It's okay." But nothing I said helped. I sank down onto the floor, aware of the sound of the shower, knowing that it ran on and on and I was powerless to stand up and go turn it off. The fear swept over me in wave after wave of icy nausea. I couldn't breathe.