A Good Killing (10 page)

“You look like her except for the scar, Frankenstein. You should have enjoyed me when you had the chance. No man will touch you sober.”

I tried to shake him off, but he held tight to my wrist. I started yelling at him while trying to flail out of his grasp, but he laughed and pulled me closer, and for a second we were a loud, thrashing mess.

Then Cooper was there. He pulled me away from Rob. “Chill out, Gargaron,” he said. Rob opened his mouth, then reconsidered whatever he was going to say, nodded, and closed his eyes again. He probably fell asleep right there against the wall.

Cooper ushered me into the kitchen, where the drinking game had changed to Quarter Bounce and had gotten much sloppier. No one was able to bounce their quarter into the red plastic cup. This fact was hilarious to everyone at the table.

“Are you okay?” Cooper asked. My arm was pink where Rob had held it. But it was Rob’s words that stung.

“I’m fine. Guy’s an asshole.”

“Agreed. You want some water, or pop, or something?”

“No, I’m just gonna go outside and get some fresh air.” I turned to the back door.

“I’ll come with you.” Cooper fell into step next to me.

“No.” I stopped walking, making him stop too. “Go,” I said, shooing him back toward the crowd. “I’m fine. I just want a second alone. Seriously.”

He paused. “Okay.”

I stepped out into the backyard, muffling the sound of the party
as I closed the door behind me. It was freezing outside, but I didn’t care. I stood on the hard dirt and gazed out at the bare brown field and the forest behind it. Now that I was alone, I let the tears come. Even if Rob was a jerk, at least he was a jerk who wanted you. I was just a scarred, second-best substitute. I wondered if anyone would ever want me.

A blast went off, and I ducked. It was unmistakably the sound of a shotgun. A second shot followed, then male laughter. I squinted to the side yard and saw a group of three guys standing together. I recognized a loud male hiccup.

“Ben Ohebshalom, is that you?”

“Guilty as charged.”

“What the hell are you doing?”

“Target practice.”

I wiped my tears on my shirtsleeve and walked over. The guys were standing twenty yards away from a tall stack of hay bales that had a big picture of Osama bin Laden tacked to it. The terrorist was unscathed.

“You’re drunk,” I said. “Gimme that.”

Ben handed me the shotgun. I cracked the barrel, let the empty casings fall to the ground, and held out my hand. Devin fished two more rounds out of a box of ammo, but I just took one.

“I don’t need two,” I said as I loaded the single shell into the chamber. This was one of Kathy’s brother’s favorite pastimes, and I’d gotten pretty good while hanging out at her mom’s house.

I lifted the shotgun to my shoulder and peered through the sights until it covered bin Laden’s nose—but not for long. The barrel swayed back and forth, pointing to the left of his turban, then the right, then to the black field behind the hay wall. I tried to blink my way to sobriety. It did occur to me that I shouldn’t be firing a gun in that state. But the confidence of the drunken brain is so much more powerful than its sense of caution. I stepped one foot back to steady myself, cradled my cheek into the handle, and fired.

Only then did I realize I hadn’t put in any earplugs. The sound was insane. I couldn’t hear out of my right ear for days. The recoil
was also surprisingly strong. I stumbled back several steps. When the smoke cleared, I saw that Osama no longer had a face. Ben clapped me on the back and hiccuped. “Nice shot.”

I grinned at the guys and felt better. Then I heard the sound of engines gunning from the field behind the hay. In the near distance, two ATVs rumbled by. A wailing female scream came from one of them.

My heart stopped.
Dear God
, I thought.
I shot someone. Kids were riding ATVs in the field behind the target, the shot went through the bales of hay, and I killed one of the riders.
I dropped the gun and put my hands to my mouth.

“Oh my God,” I whispered. “Oh my God. Oh my God.”

I pictured the corpse bleeding on the field; Mom collapsing when the police told her I’d been arrested; me ordering my last supper in prison the night before my execution. Who had I killed? How could I ever face their parents again?

“Chill,” Devin said.

I looked, trembling, at him. He waved for me to follow him to the edge of the hay wall. I could see the field better from there, and I saw that the ATVs were still going, roaring over the dirt, with two perfectly healthy riders on each one.

“It’s Susan Mindell,” he said. “She’s been hooting it up all night. I can’t tell if she likes the speed or just the chance to hold on to Michael Blum.”

I took a deep breath. The scare had terrified me a couple inches closer to sobriety, which was still not terribly sober, but close enough to see the lunacy of this party game.

“Christ,” I said. “I could have killed someone.”

The guys laughed and walked back to their starting line. They reloaded the gun and aimed it at the remains of the terrorist. “Hey!” I said. “You gotta stop. There are people out there.” Ben probably would’ve come in, if it was just him, but the other two guys were crazy stubborn.

“I’m not gonna shoot anyone,” Devin said. He turned his back on me and fired at the target. An upper corner of the hay wall exploded into a shower of straws.

I tried to flag down Susan, but the ATV riders didn’t notice me. I called her cell, hoping she had her phone on her. She didn’t answer. I’m not sure if she ever did get my message. The ATVs kept rumbling around in the field as the blasts kept coming from the shotgun.

Coach Fowler had said I could call him if things ever got out of hand at a party and I needed help. I thought this qualified. Even if it didn’t, I admit I was excited to have a reason to call him. I scrolled to his number.

Coach answered on the first ring. His voice was steady and calming, even as the shotgun fired in the background. He said he’d come right over. When we hung up, I slid my phone into my pocket and smiled up at the night sky.

16

T
he morning of the coach’s memorial service, Jody was still sleeping when Anna got up. She threw on jeans and a sweatshirt and tiptoed downstairs. The kitchen was empty, but the French press sat on the counter, full of coffee. As Anna poured a steaming cup, she heard loud rhythmic thunking coming from outside. She looked out the back window. Cooper was placing a section of log onto the large tree stump. He lifted an ax above his head and swung it down in a wide arc. The log split neatly in two. He tossed the pieces onto the firewood pile and reached for another log. His muscles moved smoothly under his skin, which glistened with sweat. Anna stood watching him chop wood for longer than she would’ve liked to admit.

She opened the back door and stepped outside. The dawn scattered ribbons of pink across the gray sky. The yard smelled of grass and sweet fruit. Sparky sniffed around the orchard, intent on something only he could detect.

Cooper turned to her with a smile. “Morning.”

“Morning,” she said. “Looks like hard work.”

He wiped his forehead on his sleeve. “Abraham Lincoln said, ‘Chop your own wood and it’ll warm you twice.’”

Anna smiled and set her coffee mug on the table. “Can I try?”

He handed her the ax, which was heavier than she expected. She held it over her head and brought it down. She missed the stump entirely, and the blade sunk into the grass next to it.

“Don’t cut off your foot,” Cooper said. “We need all of those we can get.”

“That’s so much harder than it looks. I’ll stick with collecting eggs.”

She handed back the ax, grabbed a metal bucket, and went to the chicken coop, where the chickens curled into their nests at night. She reached under one and took the egg, feeling like a thief. The chicken shared this view and pecked her hand. “Ouch.” She looked at the triangular red mark on her knuckle. She moved a lot quicker with the next chicken.

As the sky brightened, De’Andre, Lamar, and a few other teenagers came over. They worked for a couple hours in the morning before going to school. The kids goofed around a lot and teased Cooper about his pretty blond houseguests, but they also got a surprising amount of chores done.

On the empty lot across the street, Cooper ran a community garden, where anyone could plant rows of vegetables or flowers. A posh riding club in Grosse Pointe donated manure for fertilizer. Anna delivered a wheelbarrow of the stinky stuff and met some of the neighbors who were tending their beds: a retired autoworker, a minister running a storefront church, a local teacher—all of whom professed their ardent love for Cooper. She was glad he had some neighbors who cared for him here.

When Anna finished the morning chores and returned to the bedroom, Jody sat up in bed and rubbed her eyes. She wore no makeup, and the morning sun lit up her hair in an angelic glow. She looked like the cheerful little girl Anna had always known, not someone who could kill a man. Certainly, she could not have killed a man. Right?

“Morning, sleeping beauty,” Anna said. Jody waved a sleepy hello. Anna took a shower, then put on a navy sundress and tan espadrilles. She started down the stairs, then changed her mind and returned to the bathroom. Jody was standing at the sink, squeezing toothpaste on a toothbrush. “Sorry, I’ll just be a sec,” Anna said. They shared the mirror as Anna put on mascara and then lipgloss. She put her hair up in a ponytail but decided that looked too harsh.
She tried it halfway up. Jody brushed her teeth and watched Anna with amusement.

“What?” Anna said.

“You don’t wear makeup that often,” Jody spoke around the toothbrush. “Or fiddle with your hair.”

“So?”

“So”—Jody spit the minty foam—“Cooper would make an excellent rebound for you.”

“Stop. We’ve been friends forever.”

“Exactly.” Jody pointed her toothbrush toward the ceiling like an exclamation point.

“I don’t want to use him. He’s been through enough.”

“I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t mind being ‘used’ that way.”

“My wedding would’ve been in four weeks.”

“But it’s not. You’re a free woman.” Jody rinsed her toothbrush. “Wear your hair down. You look really pretty like that.”

Anna took out the hair band, and let her hair fall to her shoulders.

“That’s what I’m talking about,” Jody said. “Rrowr.”

Laughing, Anna decided she was done with her primping.

At the top of the steps, she looked down and saw Cooper standing on the white tarp in the foyer. He wore a dark suit and narrow black tie. His dark hair was damp and neatly combed, and his cheeks were shaved. He stood before a mirror, struggling with his tie.

“You want help with that?” she asked, coming down the staircase.

“Sure.” He turned with a sheepish smile. “It’s generally black-tie-only at the farmers’ market, but I use a clip-on.”

She undid the tangle and started over. With both of them dressed up and meeting in the foyer, it almost felt like they were going on a date. She was very aware of how close he was. He smelled of soap and pine trees. Under her hands, she could feel Cooper’s chest rising and falling with his breath. She had to remind herself that they
were only going out for more investigating. She finished knotting the tie and smoothed it down on his shirt.

“You clean up real nice, Bolden.” She tilted her face up to smile at him.

“Thanks. You too.”

He met her eyes, and she felt a frisson of electricity that hadn’t existed in high school. There was a knock at the door. “You expecting anyone?” he asked. She shook her head. Cooper glanced out the window, then opened the door.

The woman standing on the porch looked familiar in a frightening way, like the corpse of someone Anna used to know. It was the face of Kathy Mack, on the body of an emaciated famine victim. The bones of her shoulders and chest strained against her pale white skin. Kathy had constellations of stars scattered across her arms and neck, hinting at more tattoos below her gray tank dress and army boots. Her black hair was tied back in a fraying ponytail.

“Kathy?” Anna said.

“Anna. Thanks for coming to Michigan.”

“Thanks for calling. I’m glad I’m here.”

Anna stepped forward and gave Kathy a careful hug. The woman’s shoulders were painfully thin; she felt fragile. Poor Kathy had lived a whole lifetime during the time Anna had mostly been a student. Kathy had a baby at fifteen and dropped out of school to care for her. Her mother had helped at first but was now in a nursing home. Last Anna had heard, Kathy had split up with her husband, and he’d moved out of state. She was a single mom, raising Hayley entirely by herself. The girl must be twelve or thirteen now.

“How are you?” Anna asked. “How’s Hayley?”

“She died,” Kathy said. “Two months ago.”

“Oh my God.” Anna hadn’t heard. She’d been so wrapped up in her own drama and tragedy over the last few months, she hadn’t asked Jody what was happening to old friends. Anna reeled from the terrible news and the guilt of only hearing it now. “I’m so sorry, Kathy.”

“Thank you. It’s been hard.” Tears rose in her eyes.

Anna stepped forward and put her arms around Kathy again. Kathy held tight to her. The woman adored her little girl; Hayley had been her life. How could she go on without her?

When they pulled back, tears streaked Kathy’s face. Anna pulled a Kleenex from her purse and handed it to her. She needed one for herself, too.

“Thank you.” Kathy dried her eyes. “Please, let’s talk about something else. How’s life in D.C.?”

Anna cleared her throat and tried to make small talk. But the whole time she was thinking about Kathy’s beautiful, raven-haired daughter. Kathy probably was too.

“Are you still working at the casino?” Anna asked.

“Yeah. The commute is a pain, but the tips are good.”

Jody came downstairs. “Kathy!”

The two women gave each other a tight hug. Anna was glad her sister would have company while she and Cooper were out. They all said good-bye and Anna headed out to the driveway with Cooper. She took a deep cleansing breath of the summer air. After Cooper shut the door behind them, she asked, “What happened to Hayley?”