Lifelines: Kate's Story (48 page)

The
two of them probably laughed themselves silly, had fucking hysterics because
Richard went to counseling, knowing all along he would walk out on Rachel.
Richard never meant to stay, never. He betrayed her from the beginning.

Rachel
started to cry, and the tears got so noisy she couldn’t hear the wheels turn.
Couldn’t see the road either, and rubbed her eyes with the sleeve of her
sweater. She needed to spot the houses, then decide which looked the most
likely. Woman with a dog, down the road from Mac’s new house.

She
spotted a long drive that led uphill to the right. She couldn’t see the house,
just an outside light and a shadow. She drove farther, but the next place she
found was the house Richard built, at the end of the road.

A
red car stood outside the new house.

No,
Richard’s bimbo didn’t own the new house. She lived down the street, and there
was only one other house on this street. When Rachel got back to the driveway,
she was pretty sure no one was home. No car outside and only one light burning
on the porch. She drove up the driveway to a two-story cedar house with the
sort of sprawling veranda Richard liked to build. Had he built this one without
telling her? How long had he been unfaithful?

He’d
laughed at her from the beginning. Her own husband ... all her life, people had
screwed her out of what she had coming. First her father, planning to marry
that fucking Melissa. Then, when he died, nothing but debts, loans he’d taken
out for bad stock market investments, and the life insurance payable to his
estate,
not his daughter. He was a lawyer, for Christ’s sake. If he bought
insurance that gave his debts priority over his daughter, he meant it that way.

Daddy
will always look after you.

Flaming
bullshit.

Redecorating
the house for Melissa the bitch.
Sorry, honey. I know I promised I’d take
you to Aspen for your birthday, but I forgo—I promised Melissa ... promised
Melissa ... promised Melissa.

Forgot.

Long
days in the office, late nights with Melissa, promised Melissa can’t honey
promised Melissa. The bastard went out drinking cocktails with Melissa the
bitch, came home too tired to talk to his own daughter, forgot her birthday,
fell asleep with the television on.

Fell
asleep ... television whining. The sound drove her insane. Television whining.
Father snoring, his cigarette ... just lying there ... smoldering.

In
the kitchen, she hesitated a long time in the dark. Hate the bastard, flaming
bullshit promise. Open the cupboard door above the sink. Lighter fluid for that
old fashioned lighter her mother had given him.

“Daddy?”

He
didn’t wake.

The
lighter fluid made wet sounds as she squirted it all around his body and he
still slept. She started with his feet, and at the very end she squirted close
to the cigarette. It whooshed up and she jumped back, frightened.

He
woke the instant the sofa exploded into flames. He saw her with the lighter
fluid and she backed away ... pressed her palms to her ears to shut out his
screams. He had to die, or he would tell them about the lighter fluid. She
backed away right to the window.

She
needed to hide the lighter fluid, right now.

The
fire got big so fast. He’d stopped screaming, but she heard another sound from
him. She dashed past him quickly, the flames hot on her body. Oh, God, the
lighter fluid can wasn’t empty. She held it away from herself, far away, and
hurried and her arm burned and she got to the kitchen pounding out the flames
on her shirt, turning on the water as heat sizzled and her arm burned and the
pain cleared her mind.

Put
the lighter fluid back in the cupboard.

Call
for help.

She
stood with her hand on the telephone, listening. She mustn’t phone if he was
alive. She waited ... waited ... waited until smoke filled the kitchen. Fire, oh,
please, please help! My father! My father’s in the fire and I tried to get him
out but the flames! I couldn’t—oh, please, please help my dad!

It
took the firemen five minutes to get there. She stood in the driveway and
stared at her watch the whole time. By the time they came, the house had grown
so hot she’d had to walk backwards almost to the end of the drive.

The
firemen found her sobbing hysterically. They sent her to the hospital, and a
man came the next day to tell her it wasn’t her fault. Nothing could have saved
her father.

Her
father’s two-hundred thousand dollar insurance policy should have put her
through university, but he gypped her out, used it and the damned house to
secure a mountain of debt, and she had to work for minimum wage until Richard
came along and promised he’d look after her.

Asshole
men and their promises. Well, Richard would soon learn she wouldn’t sit still
for any man to screw her over, never again. Or any woman. She might not have a
damned tin of gasoline or even any lighter fluid, but she had the lighter she’d
bought to set Richard’s fire in her purse. When the bitch got home—

Yes,
she’d prepare a surprise party for Richard’s bimbo. Nobody laughed at Rachel
Hardesty, never again. When the woman came—of course, Richard would be with
her. It was perfect, far better than the construction yard. Richard and his
bitch. They’d go inside the house together, go to bed together.

Rachel
parked her car as far from the house as she could, behind a big tree. No one
driving by would be able to see her. No one would know she’d been here. Whatever
she did, there would be no witnesses.

She’d
break in and find a way to set a fire ready. Then she’d take her car and hide
it nearby, sneak back on foot and wait until asshole Richard and his bitch came
home and went to bed.

W
hen Kate
realized the speedometer had crept up to seventy-five, she braked and switched
on cruise control.

Where
was Evelyn? With Noel Wilson missing, too, it looked like Evelyn must be away
with him, but that made no sense at all. For years, Evelyn had lived bounded by
the perimeter of her own yard. Five years ago, Kate enlisted the aid of her
mother’s doctor and the public health nurse to force Evelyn to accept
Wednesdays spent at adult daycare; there she was bathed and groomed. That was
the extent of Evelyn’s excursions into the outside world. If Noel Wilson didn’t
live next door, he’d never have had the chance to con her mother out of that
money.

There
wasn’t much Kate could do about it tonight. With luck, Evelyn would turn up
tomorrow. Failing that ... well, time enough to deal with tomorrow’s problems
when they came.

Tomorrow
would also bring Kate’s second conversation with Sheriff Trawley about Rachel,
but first she needed to talk to someone at the Washington Mental Health
Counselors Association. She needed guidance about the exact boundaries between
her duty to the law in this situation, and her duty to client confidentiality.
She would probably end up having to explain about herself and Mac. She might
have to tell the police, too.

On
Dorby Way, when the trees closed in on either side, Socrates whimpered as if
the shadows slipped into his dreams.

“We’re
going to move,” she told him. The house didn’t hold ghosts any more, but she
needed neighbors. She needed a social life, and she wanted to get rid of the fifteen-minute
drive between herself and the rest of the world. She wasn’t going to let
herself turn into her mother, locked inside the past.

Socrates
growled as Kate turned the last corner onto Taylor Road.

“Just
shadows, Socrates. Trees.”

At
the top of her driveway, he snarled.

“Stop
it.”

She
saw the car then, a shadowy sedan Kate didn’t recognize under the big cedar
tree. Had Socrates sensed the presence of a stranger? Like people, dogs were
probably more nervous in the dark. Kate parked outside the garage door, leaving
room for the strange car to turn around. Who could it be? The police, waiting
for her? News about Evelyn?

It
was a good thing she snapped Socrates’ leash on when he snarled again, because
he started pulling as soon as she opened the car door. Kate held tight to the
leash and walked towards the visiting car.

Behind
her, a woman’s voice called out.

“Hey!
You and I have something to talk about!”

Kate
turned slowly towards the voice. The woman stood in shadows, just out of reach
of her front porch light. Kate felt exposed in the open with the trees behind
her, and the strange woman’s silhouette guarding the house.

Socrates
snarled and she pulled on the leash to silence him.

“I
don’t see clients at my home. I could see you tomorrow in my office. Let’s say,
nine-thirty.”

“Clients?”
The shadow swarmed towards her.

Socrates
pulled directly in front of Kate and began barking.

Kate
clutched the leash more tightly. “Socrates, be quiet.”

The
woman stopped just out of Socrates reach. Her hands hung at her sides, held out
slightly from her body, fists clenching rhythmically. Rachel Hardesty.

“Are
you Kate?”

Kate
backed up two steps before she realized what she was doing. What in God’s name
was Rachel doing here?

“You’re
Kate, aren’t you?” This more aggressively, and Kate realized she was shrouded
in shadows.

She
used the soft tone that so often calmed clients. “Yes, it’s me. Kate Taylor.
Your counselor.”

“My
counselor?” Rachel’s voice sounded dazed, like someone in shock. Had she lost
touch with reality? She snarled, “Jesus, what a fucking joke.” She gave an ugly
laugh that broke on a ragged peak, and growled, “What’s your dog’s name?”

Kate
had sat quietly in small rooms with violent men, but this was different. Rachel
vibrated visibly with rage, and she’d come here, to Kate’s home.

Talk
to her. Talk, use a monotonous voice; pour calm words over the turmoil. Get her
out of here.

“My
dog is Socrates. He’s wiser than he looks. Have you waited long, Rachel? I
didn’t know you were here, or I would have—”

“Your
dog? Your God damned dog?”

Socrates
seemed to know this was no time to snarl. He stood rigidly, straining the
leash.

“Yes,
my dog.”

“You’ve
been fucking my husband.”

Oh,
shit.

The
leash pulled tight and Kate twisted it around her fist to hold Socrates, who mercifully
maintained his silence.

“We
need to talk, Rachel. Let’s go inside and have a cup of tea.”

“I
hate fucking tea!” Rachel stepped towards Kate.

Kate’s
new cell phone rested uselessly in her purse, hanging from her shoulder by its
strap. Socrates snarled and pulled against the leash, jolting Kate’s body as
she tried to think what to do to calm Rachel.

Rachel
swung a fist at the dog and screamed, “You betrayed me, you bitch! You lied to
me! You—fuck! Your fucking dog bit me!”

Kate
gave the leash another twist to bring it up short. Socrates ears snapped back
and his body tracked Rachel’s as she paced the ground just outside Socrates
perimeter.

“Your
fucking dog!”

Kate’s
heart pounded with the sound of Rachel’s voice. Without light to see the other
woman’s eyes, she knew they burned with hate. “Rachel, step back. The dog
didn’t bite you. Step back and he’ll calm down. Your shouting upsets him.”

“Your
fucking dog! You both deserve to burn. All the time you were helping me, you
were screwing my husband. Lying bitch!”

Socrates
pulled against the leash and Kate’s purse slipped off her shoulder and tangled
in the leash. She used her free hand to slip the strap back up on her shoulder.
As she did, she found the cell phone with her fingers.

“Bitch!
Fucking my husband and screwing me around every time—”

“Rachel,
I didn’t know.” She explored carefully with her index finger until she found
the single button at the corner of the number pad. She pressed it to activate
the 911 call feature. “I didn’t know Mac was your husband. Once I realized, I
stopped—”

“Don’t
give me that bullshit!” Rachel’s fists made attacking motions, but Socrates
stumbled into her way. Her body quivered visibly with frustration. “I’ll report
you, you bitch! I’ll tell the medical board or the fucking police or
whoever—I’m seeing my lawyer tomorrow and I’ll sue you for every fucking cent
you ever earned. Then I’ll—”

Kate
thought she heard someone talking on the cell phone and she raised her voice to
cover the sound. “Rachel, I’m reporting the situation to WMHCA myself. I know
how upsetting this is. If I’d known who Mac—”

“You
asshole bitch! He’s Richard, and I’ll see you burn for this. Your fucking dog
too!”

Kate
hardened her voice to cut across Socrates snarls and Rachel’s panting breath.
Hopefully it would carry through the cell phone in her bag. “The time for
violence is over, Rachel. You need to look after yourself. You need a lawyer.
Right now, you need to get in your car and leave Taylor Road.”

Rachel
kicked at Socrates and he snapped at her ankle.

“Tell
that fucking mutt to stay away from me!”

“The
police are investigating you. I talked to them tonight. They’ll be coming here
to 1645 Taylor Road.”

“Get
the dog away! Now, bitch!”

Kate
untwisted one wrap of the dog’s leash from her fist, and gave Socrates a few
inches more freedom. “Remember our first session, Rachel, when we talked about
confidentiality? Everything you tell me is confidential, but there are
exceptions. I told you that, didn’t I?”

Rachel
moved from side to side, hunting relentlessly for a way through the dog to
Kate.

“If
I believe a client is planning a criminal act that threatens someone with grave
bodily harm, I have a legal obligation to report it.”