All the Ugly and Wonderful Things(70)

I left Brenda and Sandy on the porch and went into the trailer. I called the shop and let it ring a dozen times. Nobody answered at Kellen’s house, either, and when I tried the shop again, I got a busy signal.

Brenda came in and said, “Did you give them the address?” She thought I’d called the cops.

“Yeah, they’re on their way. Look, we’re gonna take care of this, okay. Your girls are pretty upset, I bet.”

She nodded and the first tear snuck out.

“I know, Brenda. I’m sorry. This has got to be so hard for you. Here’s what we’re gonna do. Sandy, get in here.”

Looking like a raccoon with her makeup running all over the place, Sandy hiccupped and said, “Butch—he—he didn’t even—”

“Sandy, you have to pull yourself together. We’ve got things to do. I’m gonna take Val’s sister and her girls into town. You go down to the barn, and tell Scott to wrap things up down there. Do you understand? And tell Lance to go up to the farmhouse. To meet the cops.”

“What about Donal?” Brenda said.

“Don’t worry. I haven’t forgotten about him. Sandy, you and Dee go up in the meadow. When you find him, bring him into town to Kellen’s.”

“I should go with them,” Brenda said.

“No. I don’t want you getting lost up there and you’ve got your girls to take care of. So you come into town with me.” Last thing I needed was her wandering around out there, while I tried to get the lab cleaned up. Wherever Donal was, he knew how to get home.

“Why don’t I drive you over in your car, Brenda? Is that okay?” I said.

That way, I was in charge, and it left the guys any vehicles they needed to haul stuff away. My plan was to go by the garage and get a key to Kellen’s house. They’d be out of the way there, because I knew Kellen didn’t keep any product at his house.

After we got Brenda and the girls settled, Kellen could come up to the ranch and help me figure out what to do. We’d have to call the cops, but not until we cleaned up and had a story in place.





3

AMY

Kellen’s garage was the same as any other run-down mechanic shop you see in little towns. Two garage bays, both doors standing open. Lawnmowers and motorcycles in various states of disassembly. On the back wall were a window and a door. Parked there was what I knew had to be Kellen’s motorcycle. The fenders were chromed and all of it was covered in stars.

“I bet he’s in the office,” Butch said, but when he pushed the door open, he said, “What the f*ck?”

Through the open door I saw what everyone else saw, I suppose. Wavy on the desk, leaning back on her hands, completely naked, resting her bare feet on Kellen’s legs. He was in the desk chair, his shirt off, his pants open. I didn’t notice any blood, although later that was all anyone talked about—the blood on his desk blotter. Small amounts of blood are almost invisible when you have a puddle of blood burned on your retinas like a sunspot.

I saw what everyone else saw, except that at the moment the door swung open, I saw Wavy smiling before her eyes went wide.

Kellen stood up, and as he fastened his fly, Butch lunged at him and swung. Butch punched him in the face and all Kellen did was say, “Goddamn, Butch, let her get dressed before you come in here and try to kick my ass.”

He didn’t look like he’d been punched until he saw Mom, Leslie, and me.

“You son of a bitch,” Mom said. “How long have you been doing this? How long?”

“Okay, ma’am, I know—I know how it looks.” Kellen put his hands up, like he was surrendering, or preparing for Mom to fall on him like a hungry lioness. “But I love her. We’re gonna get married.”

Kellen picked up a piece of paper from his desk and held it out to her. She took it and glared down at it, her face getting redder.

“Val and Liam know, okay? I bought her a ring and Liam signed the paperwork. He signed it today and the judge says—”

“Liam can’t give you permission to marry her anymore!” Mom twisted and tore at the paper until it was just a pile of scraps at her feet.

Then I understood the dead man in the hallway of the farmhouse was Uncle Liam.

While all this was going on, Wavy got dressed, pulling up her panties and tugging on her T-shirt and skirt. As she stomped into her boots, Mom stepped around Butch and reached for the phone that was lying off the hook on the filing cabinet. As she did, she looked down at the desk blotter and said, “You’re going to burn for this, you f*cking bastard.” I’d never heard her use the F-word before.

Mom put the receiver to her ear and, for the second time that day, dialed 911. When the operator answered, she said, “I want to report a rape.”

“Wait, Mrs. Newling. Just wait.” Butch, not Kellen, said that.

“What’s the address here?” Mom said.

Sitting back in the desk chair, with a hand to his head, Kellen gave my mother the address and she repeated it to the operator.

“My name is Brenda Newling. It’s my niece. Yes, yes, I did make that earlier call. I had to leave there. I—no, this is not a prank. I was there and they were—” Mom’s voice got louder and louder until she was silent for a moment. “They’re there? You have someone at the house?”