CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Ellie balanced the cookie on top of the coffee cup in her left hand and opened the heavy front door to the City Hall with her right. Susan sat at the front counter, her phone headset nestled across the top of her blonde hair like the headbands she had worn in high school. She was talking low and Ellie hung back to give her privacy. Susan glanced up and Ellie lifted the cookie and coffee. A finger raise, a murmured goodbye, and Susan clicked off. Ellie hoped for a smile when her friend looked up again, but was disappointed.

“Thought you might want a snack,” Ellie said. “Earline brought these cookies. Cherry chocolate chunk. They’re divine.”

“Thanks.” She reached down. “How much do I owe you?”

“Susan.”

Ellie heard her drop her purse onto the floor. Susan winced. “You don’t have to check up on me.”

“I’m not.”

“Liar.”

“Fine. How’s your hand?”

“It hurts.”

“Are you taking something?”

“Advil.”

“Didn’t Poole give you anything stronger?”

“Yes, but I can’t sound like a drunkard when I answer the City Hall phone, now can I?”

“You shouldn’t have come in.”

“You know I have no choice.”

“If you need money, you know …”

“No.”

“Don’t you have sick days? I’m sure Jack would …”

“Jack?”

“Chief McBride.”

Susan stared at Ellie. She could read Ellie as well as Ellie could read her. They’d had lots of practice.

“Has he interviewed you?”

“Miner came by.”

“Was Kelly there?” Susan, usually so guarded, wore her suspicion like a bridal veil.

“Yes. Getting coffee.”

“Kelly doesn’t drink coffee. I can see y’all now, sitting ’round talking about poor Susan. ‘I wonder if Brian slammed her hand in the car door again?’”

Ellie chose to remain silent rather than lie.

“What’d you tell Miner?”

“Told him Brian and Matt got into it. There were too many people at the lake. I couldn’t lie.”

“Why would you?”

“Well.” Ellie stopped herself. Ellie hated lying, was famous for her honesty. It’s what came from being lied to and manipulated for years by people she loved.

With her good hand, Susan fiddled with the items on her desk; straightening the blotter, adjusting the location of her message pad, clicking closed her pen and placing it diagonally across the pad.

“They took Brian’s gun.”

“Susan …”

“Save it.” She continued rearranging things on her desk, now with more force than necessary. She slammed her stapler down on the desk with her good hand. “You don’t have any idea what it’s like. People thinking bad of him because of his family. His dad. Kyle.” She glared at her best friend. “Of friends thinking he abuses his family.”

“Susan …”

“I mean, you of all people.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Why is it no one wonders if you’re a gambler, a slut, or a drunk? God knows that’s what the town thinks of your parents. You’ve got some crooked politicians in your family tree, too, but everyone thinks the world of you. Ellie Yourke Martin can do no wrong. You sure as hell aren’t haunted by the sins of your parents.”

“I don’t know, Susan. Maybe it’s because I don’t sleep around, gamble, or drink too much.”

“You sure part of that statement isn’t a lie?”

Ellie straightened, the jab hitting the intended mark. Ellie had forgotten how cruel Susan could be when she wanted. She thought of watching Brian bully Susan into taking a hit of the joint on Saturday night, of seeing the same type of interaction between them for twenty-five years, of Susan’s phantom car accident in high school, of Ellie’s conversation with Paige, the misery on the girl’s face, the confusion. She decided she was tired of looking the other way.

“How did you slam your hand in the car if you were in the truck?”

Susan narrowed her eyes.

“It’s your car with the loose door, right? But you were in the truck.”

“You need to mind your own business.”

“I’m done with standing by while—”

“While, what? Brian beats me? He doesn’t beat me. How many times do I have to tell you? You and Kelly are wrong about Brian. You’ve always been wrong. I mean, really. Do you think I would have married him? I would have stayed with him? I mean, what’s worse? You thinking so little of Brian or so little of me?”

“Maybe because you’re lying to me.”

“You’re the last person who needs to lecture me about lying.”

Ellie held her hands up in surrender. “Fine. We won’t worry about you anymore.”

“Me?” Her laugh was bitter, condescending. “Have you looked at your life lately? You’re sleeping with two brothers, one of them married.”

“Enjoy your coffee.”

“Take it. I don’t want it.”

Ellie reached for the coffee and cookie, trying to stay as far away from Susan as possible. She left, her stomach churning with nausea, and ran straight into the broad chest of Lincoln Bishop.

“Oh, sorry, Ellie. I didn’t spill on you, did I?” He held Ellie’s elbows gently.

“No. Thank you.” She held out the coffee and cookie. “This is for you. Welcome to Stillwater.”

Lincoln took the cup and paper bag with a perplexed expression on his face. “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.”

Ellie made it out the door, down the steps, and halfway across the square before she threw up.