Snow Creek(13)

“What happened then?”

“I wanted to be like other kids. I didn’t want to wait until I was twenty-one to get married and start a life.”

“What did your father and mother think of that?”

He pauses for a very long time. “Mom was okay with it. Dad, not so much. They argued. Gave me extra chores. Dad said more work would keep my mind from thinking about anything else.”

“Did he punish you, outside of extra chores?”

Sarah squeezes her brother’s hand. “Yes. He was punished. But he deserved it; right, Joshua.”

“Right,” he says, finally looking up from the table. “He whipped my ass pretty good. Sarah’s right, though, I deserved it. I don’t have any issues with my dad or mom. She didn’t like it, but it wasn’t her role to stop it. So, yeah, he beat me. It just made me a better man. I don’t even think about it anymore.”

These two don’t even know they’ve been abused. Just like I didn’t know the way my folks lived their lives was narcissistic and utterly out of line. Kids accept so much. They want to please. They want approval.

Joshua, Sarah and I are alike in that way.

I switch subjects. “It troubled your aunt that the portrait of your parents was missing from its place in the front room. She couldn’t understand why that was.”

They exchange looks.

“That’s my fault, Detective Carpenter,” Sarah says. “It fell when I was dusting the frame. The glass shattered, and I haven’t found another piece big enough to replace it.” She turns to Joshua. “Now that we’re here in town, maybe we could buy some glass.”

“Good idea,” he says.

Then I give them potentially more bad news.

“Joshua,” I say, “you’re a legal adult so this doesn’t apply to you.” I direct my gaze to Sarah. “You’re only seventeen,” I start, “that means you’re a minor and, though you are seventeen, the state might require a temporary guardian until your folks get home.”

She pushes back from the table.

“I’m staying with Joshua. I’m not a kid.”

“I agree you’re mature for your age. The court will take that into account.”

Sarah reaches to her brother’s arm and pulls him up. Her face is red. “You can’t do this. We didn’t do anything wrong.”

I can’t back down. I try to calm her. “It’s not about that, Sarah. It’s the law.”

“Our parents are gone. We are alone. And you want to do this?”

“As I said, it’s the law.”

“It’s a cruel law. I thought you were going to help us. Not hurt us even more!”

It’s like I’d invited a firing squad. I wish I’d never brought it up. I wish that I’d let Juvenile handle it.

Joshua speaks up. “We’re going through enough shit right now.”

“I know, I’m sorry.”

Sarah glares at me. I don’t deflect.

“When will all of this happen?”

“It may not happen,” I remind them. “As I said, the judge will decide what’s best.”

“Right,” Joshua says looking at his now inconsolable sister. “Someone else will decide what’s best. That’s just perfect.”

On my way to my car, I feel the size of a gnat. I’d spoken the truth, of course. At the same time, I’ve frightened them. I did that once before with my brother when I ran and left him in foster care. I’d miscalculated the impact of what I thought was best.

And every day since, I’ve paid the price.





Seven





It had been two days since the pickup truck crashed downward from the logging road into the woods. While Regina Torrance had done all she could to obscure it from discovery, she knew that in time someone would come. She also did her best to keep Amy from worrying.

“I’m going to get the body and get rid of it.”

“Just leave it.”

“No. If they find it then we’ll be ground zero for a murder investigation. Can you imagine how that would play out? The police would harp on us; the media would come calling for a quote. The world would find us.”

Amy finally agreed. Begrudgingly, but consented, nevertheless.

Regina completed her morning routine, and left Amy with eggs and bacon served on her mother’s dishes, Franciscan Ivy pattern. She remembered how one of their moving helpers had dropped the box with the dishes, breaking a big platter and sending Amy to bed in tears. Regina fixed the platter, making the spiderweb cracks barely noticeable.

She could fix the problem of the dead body too. Indeed, it might even be an easier endeavor than the platter. It still showed some cracks through the green of the ivy pattern.

The woods were not nearly as muggy that morning. The forest floor had dried like a kitchen sponge left on a counter for a couple of days. It smelled of living things. Regina was grateful about that. Mud would be an unnecessary complication, literally mucking up what she’d set out to do. As she snaked her way down the trail, Regina shifted her armload of supplies: a hacksaw, a bolt cutter, plastic garbage bags, an old tarp and painter’s respirator.

Approaching the vicinity of the truck, she reminded herself to breathe through her mouth when she went about her business.