CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Friday afternoon Thad sat in front of his computers, chewing on his lower lip. Last night’s death at Staffordshire Estates had caught his eye on the local news feed. He didn’t know the man who’d died, but he had a new interest in the River Glen Police Department since he’d learned the woman from the Waystation was an ex-cop. As he read the article he memorized the names of the officers and detectives who’d been at the scene of the accident. The reporter had tried to catch an interview with any member of law enforcement and had failed, though he did have a quote from Andrew Best, owner of Best Homes, the development company the victim worked for.
Best said, “It’s a tragedy that Granger Nye fell to his death. We at Best Homes are saddened to lose such a fine man and loyal employee.”
Thad smirked. They always said something like that. Total company bullshit. Nobody probably gave a flying fuck about the guy. And what about this Nye? How did a company foreman accidentally fall off a building?
His thoughts moved away from the story, and his gaze fell on Rayne’s Hobo purse. He had to close his eyes and force himself free of the desire to relieve himself inside its folds. This hold Rayne seemed to have on him irked and somewhat alarmed him. He couldn’t wait much longer for his next fix.
He glanced at his whiteboard, but his gaze turned inward.
Laughlin . . . ex-cop . . .
Dangerous. Very dangerous. But what was life without danger?
His mind then tripped to Gillis. Had the man sobered up this morning and thought about the Good Samaritan who’d given him a ride home? Had he started overthinking it, wondering why “Chas” had asked him about the ex-cop?
Had the police found any evidence that would tie him to Bibi Engstrom’s death?
Cold fear pooled in his lower back and his body went into overdrive, his senses heightened. He jumped from his chair, yanked down his pants, grabbed the purse and folded it around his dick.
Bang, bang, bang!
“Thad! THAD!” Lorena’s tinny voice filtered down to him.
“Fuck.”
He threw down the purse, yanked up his pants and stalked up the stairs, his boner slowly dissipating as he had to deal with his goddamn mother.
“What?” he shouted through the sliding metal door.
“It’s Mom. I’ve got to go get her. They’re freaking out over at that place. She’s gotta come home.”
“Keep putting them off.”
“I can’t. You’ve got to come with me, Thad!”
Oh, Jesus.
“You can handle it,” he snapped.
“I need your help so get THE FUCK OUT HERE!”
He covered his ears with his fists and jumped back down the stairs two at a time to the lair. “Leave me the hell alone,” he snarled to himself.
BANG!
She’d kicked the door. Hard. He almost ran right back up. He’d like to snap her neck.
But then everything went quiet. He hesitated, listening, but Lorena was gone. Good. He tasted blood and realized he’d chewed into his lip. He made a sound of annoyance. Damn. He couldn’t have Gram back. Couldn’t. If that place was so desperate to move her, she must be loonier than he remembered.
He stared longingly at the purse. No . . . no . . . he didn’t have time for that. Damn Lorena. DAMN HER AND GRAM. He couldn’t kill Lorena. He still needed her. But she was a problem.
Was it even true about Gram? Maybe Ridge Pointe was just fine with where she was and this whole thing was one of Lorena’s lies just to get Gram under her control!
Thad pressed his palms to his temples. He howled out a primal scream that reverberated through the lair. He waited half a minute, then did it again.
The relief he’d hoped for didn’t come.
He went back to his computers and realized blood was dripping down his chin.
He’d bitten that deeply into his lip.
Shit!
He headed to the sink and cleaned his face off, staring at his reflection in the tiny mirror above it. His lip was swollen and still oozing blood. He had to keep licking it off. He turned sideways and saw the scab that ran down by his ear to his temple, courtesy of that bitch, Bibi Engstrom.
He needed a way to bring himself back under control. When had he lost control? When had that happened? He’d been so cool, so careful for so long, but he felt shaky now.
Rayne. It had happened with Rayne.
His fury knew no bounds. He wished he could kill her again. Those other mean girls. He needed to get those other mean, mean girls!
Stop being distracted, he warned his reflection.
With that thought in mind he grabbed his father’s hat, jammed it on his head, and ran up the stairs. He would check on Brenda again. The dirty whore had to come home sometime. If she wasn’t there, he’d go to the Waystation, see if the cop was there.
But if Gillis was perched on a stool he might have to do something about him. Or that shithead he’d played pool with. The guy had accused him of cheating and Thad had been immediately incensed. He was many things, but he was not a cheat.
He glanced over at Rayne’s name, scrawled on the whiteboard, and the colorful list of names. Rayne’s and Bibi’s and Brenda’s and the cop’s . . .
He ran lightly up the stairs, wondering if he should bring a rope, something to tie Brenda up with if she tried anything. The idea excited him. Something new. He pictured them making love on her dirty bed with him slipping the rope around her neck....
Lorena was right outside the door. “You’re going with me,” she ordered. “We need to bring her back and you’re good with her. She’ll listen to you. I don’t know what you do down there all the time, and I don’t care, but you need to help me. Then I’ll leave you alone. After we get Mom.”
Thad felt a growing rage. She had no right to order him around. He could picture the rope around his mother’s neck. He could picture himself tightening it, hanging her body from the chandelier . . .
She was staring at him.
He nodded.
Not yet. He would go with her to pick up Gram.
But sooner or later he would have to find a way to get rid of Lorena.
* * *
Emma straightened the stack of washcloths she had on her bathroom shelf, aligning the corners. She’d just gotten back from a walk with Duchess around the building. Duchess had done her business and then sniffed at the ground, tugging at her leash. Emma had allowed her to lead them toward the hiker’s trail. They had gone partway up that trail together a couple of times. Duchess wanted to run like crazy, but Emma had to hold her back. She couldn’t let the dog off leash unless they were at a dog park.
“That would be bad,” she said aloud. Duchess could scare someone.
She came out of the bathroom and Duchess was sitting on the kitchen floor, her eyebrows moving up and down as she looked at her bowl. The dog started whining.
“Too many treats make you fat,” Emma said to her. Again.
Duchess gave a sharp bark.
Emma sighed. Duchess wasn’t a good listener.
Knock, knock.
“Emma? Are you in there?” Jewell called anxiously through the panels.
Duchess barked and barked. “Shhh,” Emma told the dog, giving her a stern look, as she went to the door.
Jewell burst into the room and Emma took a few steps backward. “Have you heard? Have you heard?” Her voice was shaking.
“Uh—”
“Twinkletoes slept in Sara’s bed! The cat was in her room! Sara’s really frightened. They need to get rid of that cat! It’s not right!”
“The cat slept in Mrs. Throckmorton’s bed?”
“It shot out of her room this morning!” She shuddered and looked over her shoulder at the door, as if the cat was coming for her.
Emma wasn’t sure what she felt about the cat. She really didn’t like the name they all called it. But the cat belonged at Ridge Pointe, so she said, “The cat lives here, and you can’t take away someone’s home.”
“Emma . . .” Jewell pressed her hand to her chest. “The cat is a stray and there’s something wrong with it.”
“Is Mrs. Throckmorton dead?”
“Emma!”
Emma blinked at her.
“No! Goodness, no. She’s alive. Her daughter and grandson are here now, talking with Bob and Faye.” Jewell sniffed. Jewell did not like Faye who also worked in the office. She liked supercilious Bob Atkinson, the facility director, who made more rules.
“So, the cat was wrong,” said Emma.
“They don’t die the day Twinkletoes shows up. You know that, Emma. It’s afterwards. Sara’s daughter is taking her home. Maybe she’ll be safe there, but I don’t know. It’s like a . . . hex, that cat!”
“Mrs. Throckmorton is going home?”
“That’s what I heard.”
“You were eavesdropping?”
Jewell glared at Emma, her brows in a dark line. “They’re in a meeting room and they’re loud. Sara is rightly upset. Old Darla’s making things worse. She can’t keep anything straight and she’s in the way. They’ve trapped the cat.”
“What?” Emma’s heart flipped over painfully.
Jewell held up her hands. “I just wanted to keep you informed.”
“You wanted to gossip.”
“Honestly, Emma, I know you have problems, but I really don’t need to be chastised all the time.” With that Jewell twisted the doorknob, yanked the door open, and slammed it behind her.
Emma grabbed up the keys to her room and headed out, turning to Duchess who, as ever, wanted to follow her. “We’ll go later. I need to save the cat.”
Duchess barked twice and her gaze switched from Emma to her bowl again, her tail sweeping the floor. Emma pretended the dog agreed with her, but Duchess just wanted a treat. That’s how dogs were.
When she reached the Ridge Pointe lobby she walked around the center fireplace and looked through the glass wall to the meeting room, the special room with the circular table. Mrs. Throckmorton was seated there, her head down. Bob and Faye were there, too, along with Mrs. Throckmorton’s daughter . . . Emma couldn’t remember her name . . . and Thad.
Bad feelings settled over Emma. She didn’t like the way Thad looked at her, and she was suspicious of the way he treated Mrs. Throckmorton. Emma had overheard him whispering to his grandmother about how much he cared about her, how he was the one she could depend on. Emma was pretty sure he was lying. He seemed like a liar.
She could see Mrs. Throckmorton was crying, and Emma walked to the door and pushed it open.
“Emma, this is a private meeting,” said Bob in a harsh voice, rising from his chair.
“Mrs. Throckmorton is crying.”
Faye had jumped up, too, and now she came to the door. “You can talk to her later,” she said in a soothing voice.
Emma felt Thad’s eyes on her. They seemed to burn right into her. She couldn’t make herself look at him directly, but said, “Thad was kissing Rayne.”
Faye gently touched Emma’s arm. “This is a family meeting, Emma.”
Emma pulled away. “You’ve trapped the cat?”
“Who told you that?” Bob sounded angry, but like he was trying to hold it back.
Faye said, “No, the cat was put outside.”
“Twinkletoes!” Mrs. Throckmorton said, tears in her voice.
Faye held the door open, waiting for Emma to exit. Emma backed out of the room and Faye closed the door.
Emma stood there a moment as Faye walked back to her chair. She shot a look at Thad. He was staring at her. She hunched her shoulders and headed for the outside door to the front portico. She needed to find the cat and save it before they got rid of it.
* * *
Jesus . . . Christ . . . Thad felt his heart thundering in his chest. That . . . woman . . . that retard . . . God! They’d all turned to look at him when she’d said he was kissing Rayne. When had she seen him? Never! They couldn’t associate him with Rayne. They couldn’t!
He could feel the blood drain from his face. There was a buzzing in his ears. They were still talking about Gram and Gram was crying, moaning that she didn’t want to leave, just like she’d moaned that she didn’t want to leave her home when they’d first brought her here. She didn’t know what she wanted. She was as loony as they were saying, as loony as that retard!
He wanted to kill her. She’d caused him irreparable harm. He had to say something, do something.
“I don’t know what she’s talking about,” said Thad, glad his voice sounded normal.
“Whatever, Thad,” said Lorena, turning back to Bob Atkinson, who was being a pure asshole about the money and Gram’s care.
They were taking Gram out today. Of course he didn’t want her to come home, but now with the retard’s words hanging over him like an arrow, pointing down on his head, a marker that he’d killed Rayne, Thad’s mind was changed. He needed to get away from this place and never see these people again. Never come back here.
“We’ll take my mother tonight and Thad’ll figure out how to move out her things and furniture. That should make you happy.”
“It’s not about that, Mrs. Jenkins. It’s the level of care,” Bob tried to say, but Lorena was in pure bitch mode and just waved her arm at him and glared at the other woman, Faye, who clearly felt he and Lorena were not up for the job.
Too bad.
Twenty minutes later they were helping Gram out to Lorena’s car. Lorena had wanted to take the Caddy, but Thad had told her it wasn’t running right—he couldn’t afford it to be on the road—so they were in her Honda compact with Gram in the passenger seat and Thad folded into the back. Gram was still sniffling and it was driving both Thad and Lorena crazy.
“We didn’t want this, either, Mom,” Lorena snapped.
Thad asked, “How are we going to get her upstairs?”
“The stair lift, Thad.”
“I don’t think she can do it, Lorena.”
Lorena glanced at Gram, then in the rearview to Thad. “We’ll do it. You’ll do it.”
Unable to help himself, he stated firmly, “I don’t know what that weird woman was talking about. I wasn’t kissing anyone.”
“Oh, give it up. I saw the way you looked at her, too.”
“Who?” Thad asked, unable to help himself.
“That Rayne girl. When she was there. The one that killed herself.”
Lorena threw it out like it was no big deal. Like she knew it and everyone knew it and there was nothing anyone could do about it.
Thad found himself chewing his lip, breaking open his cut again. He licked the blood and forced himself to stop gnawing.
“And what happened to your face?” Lorena asked, looking at him in the mirror again.
“What do you mean?” Thad went cold all over.
“That scrape by your ear. Somebody claw you?”
“Rayne did it,” sobbed Gram.
Lorena glanced at her and Thad stared in horror at the back of her graying head.
“Rayne’s dead, Mom,” Lorena said tiredly to Gram. “She killed herself.”
Gram didn’t respond, just sniffled.
Thad forced himself not to cover the scab on his hand protectively, the remains of the wound from Bibi’s fingernails. His blood was pounding in his ears. His mother and grandmother were dangerous to him. He felt like he was going to explode.
As soon as they were home and Thad had managed to belt his grandmother into the stair lift and then walk up the stairs beside her and get her into the room closest to the master bedroom—Lorena’s bedroom, not the one at the end of the hall he sometimes used when he wasn’t in the lair, which was unfair and he was going to take over the master as soon as they were both dead—Thad headed to his F-150. He needed air. He needed away from them.
He looked around the garage. He’d thrown a drop cloth over the Caddy, hiding it. Lorena hadn’t mentioned it. Didn’t care. Thad’s Ford truck was in the carport alongside the garage. When Lorena was gone, he would sell her car and move his truck inside.
He moved forward to the workbench and the cabinets his grandfather had ordered when the house was built. His grandfather had died less than a year after he and Gram had moved in, but he’d stocked the garage with tools and miscellaneous landscaping gear. Determinedly, Thad started sorting through Grandpa’s cobwebby lawn and outdoor items. Part of them were dear old Dad’s, too. After Grandpa died, his parents and Thad had moved in with Gram, but his father had taken his life soon after. Thad snorted as he sorted through the spades and clippers and rusting cans of Raid, getting ready to load up his truck. Lorena could make a man want to kill himself, for sure.
He gathered up a first load to put in the truck bed. He already had the knockout drops in his glove box.