Mom?
Rain's eyes snapped open at the sound of Alison's voice. A cruel trick. That's all it had been.
Something burned. Rain caught a whiff of it before she felt the sting on her leg. Her lap seemed so far away, as if her neck had stretched and her head touched the ceiling. She had to squint to focus on what chewed into her thigh. Damn lit cigarette burning a hole into her jeans. She couldn't remember lighting the cigarette.
She let it burn a second. It hurt, but hurting wasn't so bad, was it? She'd hurt plenty in her life and survived.
Just surviving is enough, Mom?
“What else is there to do, hon? I don’t want to die.”
You don't, huh?
Rain spat air and rolled her eyes. Damn kids thought they knew everything. “Wait till you grow up, kiddo. You'll see.”
I'm not going to grow up, Mom.
Rain blinked. The heat burrowing into her thigh grew. Her fingertips felt numb, which made it hard to pick up the cigarette, but once she had it between her thumb and forefinger, she plugged it into her mouth and drew deep.
Someone knocked on her door.
Rain laughed through her nose, making a snorting sound like a pig. She never laughed like that. God, she was wasted.
Better stop that shit and clear up the coffee table, Mom.
“Stop talking to me. You're dead.”
Another knock.
She surveyed the items on the coffee table—the syringe, the rubber tubing, the charred spoon, and the little baggie with the last bits of her stash.
“I'll be right there,” Rain shouted. She bent forward, tamped out her cigarette and gathered her stuff, careful not to stab herself with the needle. She turned left and right, searching for a quick place to hide everything. The cabinet under the TV still hung open from when Joshua threw her books around the room.
She hurried over to the cabinet, threw her stuff inside, and slammed the doors shut.
The knock came harder this time. Whoever it was sounded damn impatient.
“Coming.” She brushed her hair back behind her ears, took a deep breath, and answered the door.
The man standing in the doorway looked like a kindly father, the lines in his face suggesting a lifetime of smiles. But the way he studied Rain made her feel uncomfortable, like he saw a booger dangling from one of her nostrils. She wiped at her nose, got nothing.
The fatherly man showed Rain a badge which made him look a little less fatherly. “My name is Detective Randy Anderson. If you feel okay about it, you can call me Randy.”
Rain's stomach cramped at the effort to keep in the laugh wanting to bust out. She couldn't keep from cracking a smile, though.
Randy smiled back. “I guess that does sound kinda funny, don't it?”
Rain forced on a straight face. “No, sir.”
“Is it all right if I come in and ask some questions?”
“This about Alison?”
Father Randy the Cop nodded. “Afraid so.”
“Ethan send you over here?”
“I would have come anyway, ma'am. I know the two of you don't get along—”
The laugh escaped. She simply couldn't hold it in any longer. “That's an understatement.”
“For the sake of Alison, I'd expect you to set those differences aside.”
Rain pointed at the cop's face. “You have cute dimples.”
“Have you been drinking, ma'am?”
“I had a red pop about an hour ago.”
“May I please come in?”
Mom, he's not going to have to ask again if you keep acting like a high-on.
But I am a high-on, she thought and snickered.
“Something else besides my dimples funny?”
Rain glanced toward the TV cabinet. The doors were shut tight. No reason not to let him come in. There were still books all over the floor and ash and cigarette butts from when Joshua knocked the ashtray off the coffee table. But what was he going to do, arrest her for messiness?
Better to let him in rather than keep him standing out there getting suspicious.
She stepped aside and invited him in.
Randy nodded and entered, stopping almost as soon as he crossed the threshold. He eyed the mess on the floor.
Rain closed the door and let out a controlled segment of laughter. “I had a bit of a tantrum looking for my keys.”
He turned and studied her. “My wife's always misplacing her keys. I got her one of those key chains where you clap and it beeps at you so you can find it. Only it was always beeping at any old noise. By the time my wife lost the keys the batteries in the beeper had died.”
Rain laughed a little too hard at his story.
He smiled, a knowingness in his eyes.
He knows you're stoned, Mom.
“Did you find yours?” he asked.
“What's that?”
“Your keys.”
“Oh, yeah. Dummy me, they were at the bottom of my purse the whole time.”
He looked around once more. “So none of this happened during the argument with your boyfriend?”
Rain clenched up inside. Ethan, you cocksucker. “Ethan told you about that, huh?”
“Mr. Trent's awfully concerned your boyfriend might be dangerous.”
“He is dangerous.” Her stomach sloshed and the urge to puke hit her out of the blue. “But he didn't have nothing to do with Alison.”
“How can you be sure?”
“Same way you know your wife will lose her keys again. I know him.”
“But if he's dangerous—”
“Alison never had anything to do with Josh.”
“They never even met?”
Rain hesitated. Admitting Alison came around to Ethan was one thing. Admitting she'd broken the terms of the restraining order to a cop was a whole other story. Better to say as little as possible.
“You know I'm not allowed to see my kids anymore, right?”
“Mr. Trent told me Alison had been coming to visit you. That she was even here last night.”
“He'll say anything to get me in trouble.”
“Alison wasn't coming to visit you?”
Rain looked for her cigarettes, didn't spot them right off, so went to digging through the couch cushions. “I don't control what Alison does.”
“Ms. Trent, I'm not—”
Rain abandoned her search for her cigarettes and spun on the detective. “Butler. I changed it back.”
“Of course. Ms. Butler.”
Another dose of nausea rippled through Rain's stomach. The cop had soured her high and now she was getting sick. Great.
“You all right?” he asked.
She waved him off and sat down on the couch. “Fine.”
“I know this must be an upsetting time for you. I also know you care about your daughter. You might be afraid of getting in trouble if you answer my questions honestly.”
“I've got nothing to hide,” she said as her gaze flicked to the cabinet doors under the TV.
“You misunderstand me. I'm not accusing you of anything.”
“Sure sounded like it.” The smooth edge of her high had turned jagged and made it hard for her to keep her anger in check. “Sounds like Ethan's already made up your mind about me.”
“No one makes up my mind for me.”
Rain snorted.
Mom, you're going to piss him off.
So what if she did? He'd pissed her off already.
He stooped down and picked up a book at his feet. The book's pages were bent from sitting open and face down on the floor. He closed the book, careful to keep the pages smoothed. “I suppose a lot of folks have a certain view of you.”
Rain furled her brow. Where was he going with this? She kept quiet, her high draining out of her by the second.
“You're kind of like this book. Cover's a little rough around the edges, a little water damage to the pages. But none of that changes the story inside, does it?”
“That's very Mr. Rogers of you.”
“Sometimes I'm corny, I know it. But am I wrong?”
Rain scowled. She didn't trust this cop more than any other, no matter what kind of father-knows-best bullshit he flung at her. Still, a part of her needed to answer him despite her instincts.
“You're not wrong.”
“There's more to you, right?”
She nodded.
“Then prove it to me, Rain. Help me find out who's responsible for Alison's death. I promise to be fair.”
“I would never let anything happen to her.”
“I know it. I believe that one-hundred percent. But saying it isn't going to change Ethan's mind about you.”
She drew her head back and gave him a cockeyed look. “Why do you think I care what he thinks about me?”
“Don't you?”
Rain stood too fast and her head twirled. “You're some fucked up kind of cop.”
“Where can I find this Joshua?”
“I don't know.”
He sighed like a disappointed parent. “You don't want to go down this road, Rain.”
“Time for you to leave.”
Randy set the book down on the coffee table. “What would I find if I looked in that cabinet there?”
Rain's whole face turned hot. “You better not. You got no right to search my home. Now get out.”
He shook his head.
“My only goal is to find who killed your daughter and bring him to justice. So unless you're responsible, I don't give a damn what you're hiding.” Randy reached into his coat and drew out a business card. He dropped it on the coffee table. “If your attitude changes when the high wears off, give me a call.”