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Marcia O’Doole had been pussyfooting around Tyler when it really should have been the other way round. But here she was cooking his favourite, macaroni and cheese, for breakfast. Kevin, justifiably, hated it. He loved eggs like any normal kid. Tyler detested them. Said they gave him mucus. She deferred to Tyler more than his younger brother though. God willing, Kevin would live to enjoy plenty of eggs.
Her boys were sitting at the breakfast bar engrossed in their iPhones. They both used to share the same yellow curls. Tyler’s remaining hair was covered by his blue camouflage bandana but Kevin’s was way out of control. He didn’t let her cut his hair anymore though, so that was another new expense.
Kevin showed Tyler a clip and laughed in a way that told her it wasn’t fit for their consumption and that it was even funnier because she was in the room and couldn’t see it. She regretted letting Kevin have Tyler’s old iPhone. But all his classmates had one and, as she’d got the latest model for Tyler, she had to be fair.
She knew she was overcompensating, trying to make it up to Tyler because his father wasn’t around. And because her job as bureau events organiser at the Kalispell Chamber of Commerce meant she frequently wasn’t either. But now, of course, Kevin wanted the latest iPhone, and she was sick of telling him anything but the truth. Your older brother gets the new one because he has chondrosarcoma.
She knew they were in cahoots. Deciding between them which expensive gizmo they desired next and getting Tyler to ask for it. She found it difficult to refuse, and then Kevin would want the same. And why couldn’t he have one, too? They all knew the truth, but it was never uttered. Marcia saw she was being played and went along with it. But all the handheld devices her overtime could provide were never going to assuage her guilt about moving the boys from their father and city friends in Auburn, Alabama, to be near her family in Big Sky Country.
She wondered if Kevin and Tyler would run rings around her if circumstances were different, if Tyler were healthy and their father hadn’t fled because he couldn’t face the notion of losing his son. Ted couldn’t come back into her life. That was one thing she should never allow. He’d deserted her and the boys at the time they needed him the most. But what if he did want to relocate here? Would she really refuse him and deprive Tyler of being part of a complete family, for however long he had to enjoy it?
That’s why she was determined to take the boys to West Glacier. Their forthcoming vacation could be the last time they all went away together.
“That’s so lame, buttmonkey,” Tyler said
“What are you two looking at?”
Kevin regarded her with mortification, as if she’d just broken an unuttered rule. “Nothing.”
“Let me see it.” She could see him consider refusal. The iPhone had a frozen image on its screen, blurred beige. She prised it from his grip. “How do I do this?”
Kevin sighed and touched the screen as if it were suddenly infectious. The clip counter rotated. What was she about to view? Was she going to give Kevin his first lecture about porn as well? She found herself swallowing as she waited for it to begin.
It appeared to be an excerpt from a wildlife show. A leopard picked off a young springbok from a herd and dragged it to the dust by its neck. The camera zoomed in for a close-up of its teeth slashing flesh and dark jets of blood staining the ground and the predator’s snout. The camera lingered as the springbok’s body went limp and the leopard shifted its bite so it could start gnawing with the side of its jaw. The clip ended.
The relief Marcia felt about it not being something that would corrupt Kevin, as if that were really possible anymore, stalled. It wasn’t anything worse than you’d find on Nat Geo Channel, but the isolation of the kill moment and the fact that Kevin had obviously downloaded it to enjoy and share troubled her.
Marcia always tried to compensate for the fact she didn’t understand the male psyche. Ted would probably say it was to be expected from boys their age. He’d always serviced their testosterone by teaching them survival skills and how to shoot. But a lot of the time, she suspected Ted’s dismissals were just an excuse for the bad behaviour he’d been guilty of in the past. Did that mean she had to entertain it?
“Put it away, Kevin.” She started to dish up. Marcia gave Kevin his first, but it didn’t matter which order she served them in. Now it would start.
“Macaroni and cheese...” Kevin blanched.
“I’ll make eggs tomorrow,” she appeased.
“Eggs.” Tyler mock-vomited.
They both liked anything deep-fried. It was the only food they ate without complaint. Maybe if she was giving them cheese every other morning, she may as well bite the bullet and overload them with trans fats seven days a week. But Marcia wouldn’t fall into the trap so many parents did. She instead fought valiantly for a balanced, wholesome family life that maybe didn’t exist.
“You’ll get eggs tomorrow,” she placated Kevin when she realised he hadn’t picked up his fork.
“Why can’t you make them for me today?” he whined.
“I’m already late for work. Just eat. I have a headache.” She didn’t but she knew she soon would have.
“The car’s outside again,” Kevin casually said, as if it were his way of punishing her for the breakfast.
Marcia crossed to the blind and looked out from the kitchen window to the other side of the street. He hadn’t been teasing. The car was there. Black Toyota Corolla with a smoked windshield. It had been parked outside with someone inside the evening before. She’d gone out to the sidewalk to ask the driver if they’d needed directions, but they’d immediately driven off. Marcia thought she could see a figure at the wheel. What model was Ted driving now? She heard its engine start, as if it had been waiting for her appearance. If it were still there when she and the boys came home, she’d call the cops.
*
Mimic watched the window and wiped the corners of his mouth with his handkerchief. The kids had been spying on him from their bedroom the night before and had probably told Mom he was there again.
He’d parked up in the same spot in front of the freshly planted cherry trees just up from the O’Doole house yesterday and gradually got to know the lay of the lower-middle-class neighbourhood. Much more populated than Kelcie’s. Family homes one side, ball park the other. The area was currently unused though, and signs warned people not to walk there, because new grass seed had been planted. The street was also the thoroughfare to the local school and so got busy around three thirty but was otherwise quiet.
He’d get what he came for, even if it meant leaving three bodies behind for the local police department. The O’Doole mother was compact, feisty, the sort of woman who would fight him to her last breath. He’d have to stay alert with that one.
He could already visualise her incapacitated and him working on her. He would tell her it was necessary before he finished. He liked to give his targets a heads-up about their demise if he felt it was owed. To at least inform them they weren’t just victims of an opportunist.
Now he’d play a few rounds of golf, go back to the hotel to grab a shower, maybe have a steak dinner, a nap and a few gin martinis to loosen him up. Then it would be time to drive back here. They would probably have all gone to bed by then and he could deal with them separately in the early hours of the morning. Wakey, wakey, eggs and bakey. One room to the next. There was no father on the scene, so he’d have a healthy amount of undisturbed hours to work.
He was about to turn into the road, but a convoy of SUVs were heading towards the school. It was the early run. While he waited for them to pass, he picked up his iPad and skated his finger over the screen. Again he found the online article about old Virginia Greenspan being mutilated with a broken bottle in Bigfork and the attempted arson afterwards.
*
Beth couldn’t focus on the road or the signs, only knew she was driving in roughly the right direction. It was early evening; she didn’t want to go back but had no reason to stay any longer. She had to concentrate and find her way to Calais, but her mind was locked on the encounter she’d had in the house in the woods. Had they been hiding something from her, or was she reading nuances into the conversation that simply weren’t there?
The rain came down heavier and soon the wipers were powerless against the torrent streaming down the windscreen. The noise of the droplets on the roof was deafening. She glanced at her mobile on the dash and noticed she had a message. It was probably Jody checking up on her. She listened to it.
“Mrs Jordan, I was given this number by Maryse Plourde. My name is Rae Salomon.”
