Help for the Haunted(47)

“What plans?”

I shouldn’t have told her how my savings had been wiped out after that summer Abigail came to live with us. I shouldn’t have told her about the cookbook for Boshoff. But I did, and it ignited a rant about the people she had to waste money on too. “One is named Mr. Maryland Light and Power. Another is named Mrs. Baltimore Oil and Heat. They’re bills, Sylvie. Bills we need to pay. So if you think buying a book for some crap counselor takes priority over keeping the lights and heat on, or putting food on the tab—”

“What food?” I could not keep from saying. “You mean Popsicles?”

“Surprise! They cost money too, and I don’t see you complaining when you’re shoving them in your face!”

“Calm down,” Dereck tried, but nobody was listening to him anymore.

His leg felt too heavy against mine all of a sudden, and I shoved it away. “I worked hard getting those surveys, and I deserve the money!”

“Sorry, Sylvie. But the answer is no.”

If my sister were smarter, she would have snatched the envelope off the dashboard by then. But maybe she didn’t suspect me of being capable of what came next. As we rounded another corner, I watched that envelope with its bills and chattering coins slide in her direction. Before it could slide away for good, I sucked in a breath and did something I hadn’t since that night with Dot years before: The Scream.

The sound caused Dereck to flinch as I lunged across his lap and grabbed at the envelope. Rose let go of the wheel and grabbed at it too. Before either of us could get it, the money slipped from the dashboard, coins spraying on the way down. I tried to catch what I could, my hand brushing Dereck’s crotch in the process, which led him to grab my arm. The truck swerved. Rose put her hands on the wheel again, jerking us back to the right side of the road.

“Jesus Christ!” she screamed. “You almost killed us.”

I wriggled free from Dereck’s grip then dropped to the floor. Down on the gritty mats, I spotted the envelope by Rose’s sneakers. I reached out but she kicked it away. Again, the truck swerved, this time more suddenly and forcefully. Someone in another vehicle laid on the horn as Rose slammed one foot down on the envelope, the other on the brake, then cut the wheel. I looked up to see Dereck’s square face as the sky swirled above and things got bumpy.

And then, all at once, everything went still.

As the sound of the horn faded, I stayed on the floor, staring at Dereck’s giant, unlaced work boots next to my sister’s small black sneakers. I watched as Rose reached down and grabbed the envelope, quickly shoving it in her jeans. Three quarters. Two dimes. Three pennies. Since I didn’t know what else to do, I gathered up those coins, a pathetic ninety-eight cents that I slipped into my pocket. When I sat up, I saw that we had made our way into an empty lot with patches of tar and muddy grass between two industrial buildings. I glanced at the clock, trying not to think about how much time I wasted doing those surveys—how much time I was still wasting not getting the answers I really needed.

“You’re not getting the money,” Rose told me. “And I don’t want to hear any more about it.”

Good, I thought as my hand found the door handle, because I have nothing left to say on the topic. Before Dereck could stop me, I shoved open the door and jumped out, tumbling onto the damp earth. I’d left my tote bag inside but managed to snatch my journal on the way and keep it with me.

“Sylvie!” Dereck got out and lumbered in my direction. “Are you all right?”

I stood and began hunting for one of my flip-flops, which had come free.

He pointed toward a patch of tall, dead grass. “There.”

I limped over, picked it up, slipped it on.

“Just let her be.” Rose hadn’t bothered to get out of the truck, but she hung her head out the window and called to Dereck. “The girl’s brain has finally shit the bed. She’ll come to her senses and find her way home soon enough.”

“Better go,” I told him. “Your girlfriend’s waiting.”

“You don’t have to be so upset, Sylvie. I know it’s seventy-seven dollars, and you worked hard for it. But in the grand scheme of things, it’s not much. You’re going to make that and more in your sleep someday.”

My sister revved the engine. Watching her made me think of the detail I found in Rummel’s folder. Not the scribble about Howie, but that other thing I’d always wondered but never knew. “How about fifty dollars?” I asked him. “Is that a lot?”

“Fifty? I thought you said you made—”

“I’m not talking about what I made. I’m talking about how much Albert Lynch paid—or offered to pay Rose to call my parents and get them to the church that night.”

Dereck’s gaze shifted to my feet. He began cracking the knuckles on his bad hand—thumb, index finger then stopped abruptly, as though remembering the rest were no longer there. “But what does that matter if it’s not true? The man is lying. Rose was home with you. You both said so all along.”

I stared at him, thinking how easy it would be to let that final secret free.

“Train leaves the station in ten seconds,” my sister called out her window. “All aboard or you’re shit out of luck.”

Dereck lifted his head and looked at me. “Get back in the truck, Sylvie.”