The Southern Book Club's Guide to Slaying Vampires(66)

“It doesn’t have to be Ed,” Patricia said. “What were the names of those other two police detectives? Cannon and Bussell?”

“Don’t!” Maryellen said, too loud. Patricia heard panting over the phone and realized Maryellen was crying. “Hold on,” she said, and sniffed hard. Patricia heard her put the phone down.

After a moment, Maryellen picked it back up.

“I had to shut the bedroom door,” she said. “Patricia, listen to me. When we lived in New Jersey, we came home from Alexa’s fourth birthday party and our front door was standing wide open. Someone broke in and urinated on the living room carpet, turned over all our bookcases, stuffed our wedding pictures in the upstairs bathtub and left it running so it backed up and flooded the ceiling. Our clothes were hacked to shreds. Our mattresses and upholstery slashed. And in the baby’s room they’d written Die Pigs on the wall. In feces.”

Patricia listened to the line hum while Maryellen caught her breath.

“Ed was a police officer and he couldn’t protect his own family,” Maryellen continued. “It ate him alive. When he was supposed to be at work he parked across the street and watched our house. He missed shifts. They wanted to give him a few weeks off, but he needed the hours, so he kept going in. It wasn’t his fault, Patty, but they sent him to pick up a shoplifter at the mall and the boy lipped off and Ed hit him. He didn’t mean to, it wasn’t even that hard, but the boy lost some of the hearing in his left ear. It was one of those freak things. We didn’t come down here because Ed wanted someplace quieter. We came down here because this was all he could find. Ed used up all his favors getting transferred.”

She blew her nose. Patricia waited.

“If anyone talks to the police,” Maryellen said, “they’re going to follow it back to Ed. That boy he hit was eleven years old. He will never find another job. Promise me, Patricia. No more.”

“I can’t,” Patricia said.

“Patricia, please—” Maryellen began.

Patricia hung up.

She tried Grace again. The machine was still picking up so she called Slick.

“I saw it in the paper this morning,” Slick said. “That poor girl’s mother.”

Patricia’s heart unclenched.

“Kitty is too frightened to do anything,” Patricia said. “She’s buried her head in the sand. And Maryellen is in a bad position because of Ed.”

“That man is evil,” Slick said. “Look how he twisted us up like pretzels and made us seem like fools. He knew exactly how to get Leland’s trust.”

“He says he got that money he put into Gracious Cay from Ann Savage,” Patricia said. “But that’s dirty money if I’ve ever seen it.”

“I know, but he’s Leland’s business partner now,” Slick continued. “And I can’t accuse him of this kind of thing without cutting my own family’s throat. We’ve been there before, Patricia. I’m not going back there again. I will not do that to my children.”

“This is about children’s lives,” Patricia said. “That matters more than money.”

“You’ve never lost your house,” Slick said. “You’ve never had to explain to your children why they have to move in with their grandmother, or why you have to take the dog to the pound because food stamps don’t cover dog food.”

“If you’d met Destiny Taylor you wouldn’t be able to harden your heart,” Patricia said.

“My family is my rock,” Slick said. “You’ve never lost everything. I have. Let Destiny’s mother worry about Destiny. I know you think this makes me a bad person, but I need to turn inward and be a good steward to my family right now. I’m sorry.”

Grace’s machine picked up again when she called back, so Patricia got her purse and went over to her house, stepping out into the blast furnace of the day. By the time she rang Grace’s bell, sweat was already seeping through her blouse. She let the echoes of the chimes die inside the house, then rang again. The doorbell got louder as Mrs. Greene opened the door.

“I didn’t know you were helping Grace today,” Patricia said.

“Yes, ma’am,” Mrs. Greene said, looking down at Patricia. “She’s feeling poorly.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Patricia said, trying to step inside.

Mrs. Greene didn’t move. Patricia stopped, one foot on the threshold.

“I’m just going to say hello for a quick minute,” Patricia said.

Mrs. Greene inhaled through her nostrils. “I don’t think she wants to see anyone,” she said.

“I’ll only be a minute,” Patricia said. “Did she tell you what happened yesterday?”

Something confused and conflicted flickered through Mrs. Greene’s eyes, and then she said, “Yes.”

“I have to tell her we can’t stop.”

“Destiny Taylor died,” Mrs. Greene said.

“I know,” Patricia said. “I’m so sorry.”

“You promised you’d get her back to her mother and now she’s dead,” Mrs. Greene said, then turned and disappeared into the house.

Patricia stepped into the cool, dark house. Her skin contracted and broke out in goose pimples. She’d never felt the air conditioning turned this low before.