Off the Deep End (29)
Shane had to be mortified, but she didn’t seem to care. You’d see her car everywhere. Slowly becoming part of the town’s tapestry. There were days when all she did was drive up and down Main Street. Other days she made circles around the mall. Sometimes she parked in the ramp and sat there for days. One of her favorite spots was in the Walmart parking lot on the east side of town. She stayed there for three weeks once until the police finally had to make her move.
I heard rumors that she drove around with photo albums and all Gabe’s things stacked in the car like a superhoarder, but I also heard contradictory stories that her car was empty. How she’d left with nothing and still had nothing. I didn’t know which was the true version of events. There were so many rumors about her. She kept the town buzzing. Lots of people assumed she’d gotten on drugs. Heroin. Crack. Pills. It all depended on who you talked to.
Those were just rumors, if you asked me. I’d seen her on more than one occasion, and she wasn’t high. She was gone, but it wasn’t on drugs. I think she punished herself by staying sober so that she had to feel all of it.
She gave in to her grief, and it devoured her. She’d seemed mind-numbingly depressed before but got scary after she moved out. There was a crazy in her eyes that I’d only ever seen on TV. And she got mean. Super cruel.
Sometimes she went into these manic rants, accosting people and following them into the store. Nobody had any clue what to do about it or how to stop her. Things like that happened when you lived in the city, but they didn’t happen in small rural towns on Sunday afternoons when families were rushing into the grocery store to grab something to eat so that they could be home in time for the football game after church.
She screamed at people about the unfairness of life and how she was being punished. But other times, it turned personal, and those attacks were brutal and ugly. Parents covered their children’s ears and hurried them inside so they wouldn’t hear the horrible insults she unleashed on people. One day she grabbed Beverly Wayne’s arm on the way out of Kroger and wouldn’t let go. She called her a disgusting pig, but she didn’t stop there. She kept going on, screaming she was a three-chinned gossip that nobody liked and that everyone made fun of her behind her back as soon as she was gone. Beverly had gotten so upset she’d left her cart full of groceries in the parking lot.
Jules’s erratic behavior hadn’t stopped there. She’d taken scissors to her gorgeous red hair that flowed past the middle of her back and hacked it to pieces. She’d gotten caught going to the bathroom in the middle of the park even though there were facilities she could’ve used. Father Tommy had to call the police on her more than once after she became violent in the sanctuary at Saint Michael’s Episcopal Church. It was one of her favorite spots. When she was quiet, they let her stay, but sometimes she got violent. She’d broken two windows with a brick. The other time she’d sliced into all the cloth Advent murals draped on the walls, and he was afraid she’d turn the knife on herself next. Shortly after that arrest, it’d seemed like she’d gotten better. She cleaned herself up. Stopped harassing people. She even showed up a few times at the coffee shop and sat outside at one of the round tables sipping her cup with an almost peaceful expression on her face. Everyone said she’d finally turned the corner.
And then she parked her car on the train tracks.
People who had lost all hope were dangerous, and she wasn’t the only one. She lived in a home with other people just like her, and she’d been there long enough to make friends. Those people might help her. Those people might hurt Isaac. What if one of them was the missing link?
I turned on my heels and marched downstairs to find Detective Hawkins. Katie’s package from Amazon sat untouched by the door, which meant she still wasn’t back from my mom’s. Mark sat aimlessly scrolling through his phone in the empty family room. I hurried into the kitchen, but Detective Hawkins wasn’t there either. Only the others posted up in front of their computers and laptops. Stan gave me a nod.
“Everything okay?” he asked, noticing my frantic expression.
“I just wanted to talk to Detective Hawkins. Is he here?”
He shook his head. “Should be back in about an hour or so.”
“Thanks,” I said, squeezing past the table and heading to the patio door. I slid the glass wide and stepped into the backyard without bothering to grab my coat. The cold bit me, stealing my breath almost immediately. For a second, everything spun. I hadn’t left the house in eight days. The prospect of any contact happening with Isaac while I was gone had kept me inside. I couldn’t risk not being here if he reached out.
I shivered as I grabbed my phone from my pocket and pulled up Detective Hawkins’s contact information. He’d given me his cell phone number that first night, and I hadn’t used it yet, but I couldn’t wait for him to get back. This was too important. He answered on the second ring.
“Detective Hawkins.” His voice was a much deeper baritone over the phone.
“Hi, Detective Hawkins. It’s Amber. Amber Greer,” I spoke quickly like I did every time I got nervous. “I’m sure you’re really busy, and I’m sorry to bother you, but I just had a few questions. I know I could’ve waited for you to get back, but you told me I should call whenever I wanted to, so . . .”
“No problem. Don’t ever hesitate to call me. I’m here for you,” he said quickly.