Gun Shy(40)

“Listen, you piece of fuckin’ shit,” I say, taking him by the scruff of the shirt and pinning his fat ass to the car. His nose is bleeding and I have to be careful that it doesn’t get on me. “I know you’re Hannah’s daddy. Ain’t nobody ever said a word about it, but I know. She’s got daddy issues so bad, she’s going around fucking anything in this town older than her. Getting pregnant? What the fuck is that?”

He doesn’t say anything. His face pales a little, but he doesn’t say a thing.

“I forgot to tell you, Hal. I got a real nice lawyer from LegalAid. Some hotshot from a big law firm in Reno who grew up in these parts. She’s the only bit of luck I’ve had in this fucking life. So you go and buy a fucking crib for my sister and her baby, and you have it delivered anonymously, and I’ll pretend we didn’t have this talk.”

His face blanches. “You’ll be back in prison soon anyway, you loser,” Carter says, holding his broken face.

I lick my lips, grinning as I run my fingers along the sharp tip of the hammer’s claw.

“You got a dog, Hal?” I ask.

He raises his eyebrows. “What?”

“One of those yappy poodles,” I say, staring him down with every ounce of intimidation that I can call up from inside me. “I bet this hammer would take the head clean off a dog that size.”

I’m bluffing, of course. I’d never touch a dog. Never hurt an animal. People are an entirely different story.

“Are those dogs good security, though, Hal?” I ask. “Seems they wouldn’t provide a wealth of protection. I mean, the teeth on this hammer are bigger than the teeth on a lap dog.” To prove my point, I press the tip of the hammer into the center of my palm until I break the skin. Blood wells up and I hold my wound up for the mayor to see. He balks. He probably thinks I’m completely fucking crazy, but that’s not a bad thing. You don’t mess with crazy people. You leave them well enough alone. You definitely, absolutely do not threaten their mothers or abandon their sisters.

“Seems this wound wouldn’t take down an intruder, would it, Hal?”

He swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his liver-spotted throat. He sickens me. Everything about him sickens me, and I have to remind myself that at least I know for certain he’s not my father. That Hannah is simple enough to be kept away from the reality of the man she came from.

“You ain’t ever getting out of this town, boy, unless it’s a one-way ticket back to Lovelock,” he says, wiping blood on his shirt sleeve. “You remember that.”

I stare at the back of his balding head as he walks back to his wife’s car and imagine how much better it would look if I shattered it with my wrench into a mess of pulpy blood.





CHAPTER SIXTEEN





CASSIE





“I need your help,” Damon says, cutting through my daydream.

I’m drawing up Mom’s evening tube feed into a large plastic syringe, making sure everything is sterile, making sure everything is lined up right. On the other side of the kitchen counter, Damon drops a stack of paper in front of me.

The posters. Jennifer stares out from her yearbook photo. I never noticed before how similar she looks to her brother. They have the same eyes, the same slight upturned noses. Their front teeth are the same shape.

“Cassie.”

“Yeah,” I reply, setting the syringe down and wiping my hands on my jeans. “You need my help?”

“Can you put these up for me?” he taps his finger on the stack of posters. “And ask your friends to help, too.”

I don’t have any friends, I want to say to him.

“Sure,” I reply. “I don’t start until midday tomorrow. I’ll spend the morning doing it.”

I don’t want to stand in the cold and put up posters of a girl who is more than likely already dead. But Damon buried the dog for me while I was at work. So I should do something to help him, I guess.



The next morning, I find my old school backpack in the back of my closet, still adorned with stickers and full of holes. I swallow down a lump in my throat, wipe away the memory, and stuff the pile of Jennifer posters inside. A staple gun from the garage, a roll of duct tape, and I’m set. Damon drives me to the diner where the rest of the volunteers are meeting to go over the plan.

When we enter, the place is full again. I hold the door open while Damon knocks his boots against the wall, shaking out the snow and dirt. Amanda is running around like she’s possessed, yelling breakfast orders into the kitchen, balancing plates up and down her arms.

I guess pretty girls disappearing is good for business.

Shelly and Chase are here; no kids this time. Shelly looks like she’s going to squat and pop out their baby on the diner floor. Everyone in the diner is looking at Chase while pretending not to. I scan the place, looking for any sign of Leo, feeling equal parts disappointed and relieved when I see he’s not here.

Damon ushers everyone to a corner of the diner and hands out more stacks of posters. Shelly and Chase have been crying; their eyes are red, their faces lined with stress. I imagine what it would be like if my sister went missing. If I had a sister.

After everyone has their posters and their little maps, Damon takes me aside. I’ve been assigned the diner and surrounds, most likely so Damon can keep tabs on me.