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On Sunday, Don and I loaded our laundry into the back of my car and drove to the laundromat. I separated my laundry into three washers (like I said, it was a near emergency) and settled down in a chair to watch the traffic go by. Don got waylaid by a couple of little old ladies who wanted to see what was in the cat sling, so I was sitting on my own when Harry came in.
He did a quick scan of the room, nodding at me before heading to a washer. I moved my backpack when he came over so he could sit.
“Hey,” he said.
“Hey. How’s it going?”
“Not so good, actually.”
I hadn’t expected an honest answer. “Oh, sorry.”
He shrugged. “It’s... weird.”
“Yeah. Weird pretty much describes my life lately.”
“You remember the other day – when I told you about that girl I knew in college?”
“Yeah.”
“I saw her the other day. She walked into my shop. How’s that for weird? I mean, right after the police came, and we talked about her. She just shows up.”
I had suspected as much, but I didn’t say anything. As far as I was concerned, psychic dreams were weird. Seeing an old flame after talking about her was just coincidence.
“It seems like bad things always happen when she’s around.”
That got my attention. “What do you mean?”
“She was a firebrand. Ruthless. It was like... like she had no moral compass and no filter. She would do whatever it took. Say whatever she had to say. She used people – especially men.” He stopped, staring off into the middle distance.
“What do you mean?”
“Like I said, we were toxic together. After I broke up with her, it wasn’t two weeks before she had a new guy, and he was caught breaking into the same lab she’d wanted me to get into. She wanted good things, good changes, but she didn’t always go about things the right way.”
“I was there. When she came in? I saw her. She came over and talked to me. She had recognized me from the crime scene.”
“Somehow that doesn’t surprise me.”
“That she talked to me?”
“That she was there. The controversy and the demonstrations around Wilton and his developments – that would be like catnip for Dawn.”
“She didn’t strike me as lacking a filter, though. The things she said to me – and Don – were quite pointed.”
“She probably had to develop one to stay out of trouble. Whatever you do, don’t rise to her bait, and don’t let her get in your head. In fact, I’d recommend avoiding her as much as you can. That’s what I’m planning to do.”
I was getting tired of being told to avoid people, but in this case I had no problem going along with it. This sounded more like friendly advice than an order.
❧
Later, when I told Don about my conversation with Harry, he called Petreski and made me repeat the conversation for him. “He’s going to get tired of us calling him,” I sighed as we ended that call.
“He’s going to get tired of you running around talking to people, more likely.”
“I was at the laundromat minding my own business! I can’t help it if people talk to me. I can’t just run and hide whenever someone talks to me, can I?”
“Petreski would probably say you could.”
“He’s going to decide I’m too much trouble.”
“Then try staying out of trouble.”
“Dude. You are the one who got me into this! It was your idea to go check the bayou!”
Don was silent, and I realized I’d gone too far.
“Don, I –”
“Seriously? My fault?”
“I’m sorry, I –”
“Jesus, Jake. I’ve been nothing but supportive of you this entire time. All this crazy shit going on around you, and I never once batted an eye.”
I hung my head. What could I say? He was right. “Don, I really –”
“Not right now, Jake. Just... not now, okay?”
Don left to go back to his apartment, and I started putting away my clean laundry. My towels and shirts and underwear were all folded the same in orderly stacks and I realized I probably was OCD. One more thing for Don to be right about.
I hated arguing with Don – he was my best friend and had been since we were fifteen, when he was the new nerdy kid and I was the noisy drama geek everyone was tired of telling to shut up. I’d never known when to keep quiet, had I? I wanted more than anything to go across the hall and apologize, but I let Don have his space. He knew I was sorry, and he’d be over soon to let me grovel properly.
