Standing on the small landing outside the front of the Cousins’ house, Deputy Braun rapped on the scuffed white paint of the front door. Taking a step back, he waited while glancing at the empty driveway where a burgundy Ford Taurus normally parked.
Someone’s here. There was movement at the living room curtain when I pulled up.
The deputy recalled his last visit to the house to talk with Cecil Cousins’ about his son. Kolt’s hulking size normally wasn’t a problem unless it got riled by family trouble—that boy’s got a lot of mass to throw around when he’s angry. The result was occasional scuffles at school, or a few knuckles-to-face at self-important brats with the latest Nikes or newest gadgets; the deputy secretly sympathized with Kolt. However, the last time had been something new. Kolt had teamed up with someone to trounce a kid, whose parents then filed charges. Barely keeping things contained, the deputy eventually convinced the parents to drop the complaint.
Hopefully today I’ll have the same luck for Lina. At least her boy deserves better’n what’s likely to come roost in this house if I don’t.
The faded yellow curtains with a flowery trim over the door’s half-moon window jerked aside and Faye Cousins’ suspicious face peered out. Seeing the deputy in uniform, she dropped the curtain and eased the door open a few inches.
“What do you want?” she asked in a cool tone, glancing over the tarnished security chain between the door’s edge and its mildewed frame.
“It’s Deputy Braun, Mrs. Cousins.”
“I know who ya are, John,” she replied.
“Of course, Ma’am. I’m here to speak with Cecil. Is he around?”
“He went to town.”
The deputy heaved a sigh. Can I put this off and come back later? But what would the sheriff say? That little pandering prima donna would probably write me up, seeing as he spends more time with them politicians down-below in Mount Vernon than he does up river with us local boys. Wish he’d stay down there ‘stead of riding my ass every chance he gets.
John took a deep breath as if he were preparing to dive into an ice-cold creek. “Well then, may I come in for a minute and speak with you? I have some questions I need to ask.”
Looking away, Faye scanned the living room behind her without answering.
“It’s about your daughter,” he added.
Faye’s face snapped around and she sneered, “She ain’t no kin a mine.”
The door slammed shut followed by a muffled curse, and then the chain jingled. When the door swung open it revealed a woman in her late forties wearing a wide collared, loosely buttoned orange blouse, neatly pressed and tucked primly into tight blue jeans that flared alarmingly at the hems. Deputy Braun assumed it was Faye’s attempt at fashion—but it failed to flatter her gaunt figure. A cigarette drooped between her pursed lips, part of a weathered face that had seen more than its share of hard times.
“Come in,” she said, squinting in the morning light.
“Thank you, Ma’am.”
Stepping into the cluttered living room, the cloying aroma of strong cinnamon candles warred with the heavy odor of stale menthol cigarettes. The only hint of life in the room was the faint smell of mold.
Faye closed the door and strolled over to a small frayed sofa crammed in the corner on the not-so-far side of the room. Taking a seat, she leaned against an armrest that bore dark rings from drink stains. The area looked like the furniture display in a thrift store. Without receiving an invitation to sit, Deputy Braun stood beside an exhausted looking lazy chair that faced a little television sprouting a vintage rabbit-ear antenna on top.
“Now, what’s this about, John?” she asked.
“I was actually hoping to catch Cecil—”
“Well ya got me.” She plumped one of the sagging throw pillows beside her.
“Right. This is actually a courtesy call. Two nights ago we found a white Honda Accord abandoned out near Texas Pond. On the morning of November first, it was seen near a string of robberies along the Sauk valley between Rockport and Darrington.” He paused to watch her reaction and the moment lengthened into an awkward silence. Faye readjusted the worn pillow.
Maybe I’m right and Lina didn’t have anything to do with this.
“Not my worry,” Faye said, sounding bored.
“We found two objects in the back seat of the car. A business in Rockport remembered seeing one of them that night.” He reached into his pocket.
Remaining silent, Faye turned to look at the deputy for the first time. Lifting her hand in an exaggeratedly sophisticated motion, with her pinky extended, she rearranged a strand of home-bleached yellow-blond hair. He handed her the sealed clear plastic bag marked ‘Evidence’ that contained a single ornate silver earring glittering inside.
“Lina was wearing an identical pair that night, apparently part of a Halloween costume.”
The color drained from Faye’s cheeks before they turned deep red with a flush of anger.
“Is this Lina’s?” he asked. Please, say no.
“No,” Faye replied, struggling to contain her emotions.
The deputy let out an audible grunt of relief. Thank goodness.
“Not ‘less she stole ‘em,” Faye added.
“What?” the deputy asked. “You recognize the earring or not?”
Taking a drag off her cigarette, Faye cut her eyes toward him as if weighing the question. “Sure. I got a pair like ‘em,” she said guardedly.
“May I see them?”
Slapping the pillow beside her, Faye rose with a huff before storming into the bedroom that lay directly off the living room. Out of sight, a drawer scraped open, followed by the sound of rummaging. Shortly, the drawer slammed shut, rattling the large framed wedding certificate that hung on the wall between the living room and the bedroom. Following a muted curse, Faye returned to the doorway with her fists propped angrily on her thin waist and the cigarette clenched in lips. Like a tote bag with the drawstrings pulled too tight, she inhaled and the end of her cigarette burned with a fiery orange glow.
“I want that bitch arrested!” Faye demanded, fuming.