At the Quiet Edge(36)
For all the stability in Lily’s life until age ten, her later childhood had spun into chaos. The modest child support payments had helped financially, but nothing had been effective at pulling her mom back from her emotional tailspin. She’d been angry and ranting and weeping at first. Then she’d been single-mindedly determined to show up her ex-husband. There’d been an endless march of new boyfriends and all the trouble they brought along, interspersed by the occasional volatile marriage, and always, always spiced with way too much drinking.
It was no wonder Lily had fallen so completely for the ideal fantasy Jones had created. What a crock.
At least Lily had been determined not to spiral the way her mother had. She’d been absolutely committed to calm stability for Everett, and she’d managed it so well that his entire life was one endless boring stretch after another, apparently.
Well, boring was exactly what he needed.
She craned her neck out into the hallway to listen for a moment, then quietly closed her door. After checking that her curtains were shut tight, she opened her closet. It was stuffed too tightly with clothes and piled high with the miscellanea of their lives.
She reached up and, careful to lift each ancient shoebox with precision and set them down just as quietly, unloaded the highest shelf in her closet until one box sat alone.
She eased it free, then sat cross-legged on the floor, hunched over the cardboard. A harmless pile of old receipts lay in a jumble, but she pawed those aside, digging until her fingers touched thicker paper.
The envelopes emerged with a whisper, just a few accumulated over the years. One had been postmarked from California. Two from Mexico. Another from Costa Rica. All were addressed to EJA, the initials Everett had been born with. They weren’t his initials now.
Lily had saved the cards, unsure whether she’d give them to him someday or hide them forever. But now she knew she should have destroyed them from the start. Even a hint of his father had brought Everett’s nightmares roaring back.
Maybe her instincts had been right after all. A child needed stability, not a constant push and pull of affection given and then removed.
And if Jones really did bring the police back into her home, she couldn’t have anything that would throw her story into doubt.
With a glance at the door, and a quick prayer that whatever he learned in the future, her son would forgive her, Lily began to tear up each card, and then the envelope it had come in. When she was done, she tore each piece smaller, then scooped them all up into a plastic shopping bag.
When Everett left for school the next day, she would open the rusted charcoal grill she’d inherited with the patio, and she’d burn it all.
CHAPTER 12
Everett’s hand shook as he cleaned up the lunch his mom had set out and put his orange juice glass in the sink. He was excited. Really excited. And a little scared.
Josephine was done with the dentist—No cavities!!! she’d messaged—and was on her bike now and heading over. This was happening.
“I’m meeting Josephine at the trail!” he called out.
“Have fun and be careful,” she responded, her normal parting caution, and then Everett was out the door and racing toward their meeting place at the dead end of the road. Josephine didn’t look nearly as excited as he did, but she waved and led the way into the meadow, whooping a little when she barreled up a small hill and raced down the other side.
The narrow dirt trail they took ended near the tree they’d climbed during their last mission, so they rode straight toward it, then walked their bikes over and leaned them against the trunk.
Josephine pulled an ancient towel from her backpack and handed it to him. “You sure about this?” she asked.
“Absolutely. I need to know if there’s someone dangerous here. I’m at school all day, and my mom is just on her own. What if he really is a killer?”
“Yeah. You’re right. But let’s hurry. I have to be back before four to go to dance or I’ll be in deep doo-doo.”
“Got it.” Everett looped the towel around the top two strands of barbed wire, then twisted it tight to pull them up. Josephine tossed her backpack into the gap before easily sliding under. “Josephine Woodbridge, girl detective!” she yelled when she jumped upright, fists in the air.
“Hey, your boy detective is waiting,” he said, gesturing with the ends of the towel.
“No one cares about boy detectives, Ev, come on. A dime a dozen.”
He tossed his backpack right at her, rolling his eyes at her laughter as she let the pack fall and grabbed the towel.
Everett joined her in the field, and they set off, sticking close to the fence in case their presence agitated the cows or a farmer came tearing after them. But the cattle stayed quiet, and no farmers appeared.
“Did you read that link I sent about Marti Herrera?” Josephine asked. “She was the last one to go missing, you know.”
“Yeah, and her family didn’t let it drop. There were a lot more articles about her.”
“I think maybe they scared the guy. No more women disappeared after that.”
Everett frowned at his feet, watching to make sure he didn’t step in any fresh cow poop. “I keep telling myself that means he’s not dangerous anymore. Or that he’s not really the killer.” He dared a quick glance back toward the business park. “I mean, you can see my place, even from here. He’s so close.”