Part 11 (1/2)
”Sure.” The woman turned and bellowed. ”Joy!”
The wailing grew louder, and a young girl appeared with a one-year-old boy on her hip. Wisps of hair escaped her long blond braids. Cereal stained the front of her white top, and she looked tired. Haley inhaled, unable to tear her eyes from the familiar face. If Chloe had lived to be twelve or thirteen, she would have looked like this girl.
Joy's blue eyes went from Haley to Tank, and she brightened. ”Hey, Tank. How're Brooke and Libby?”
”They're just fine, Joy. I brought someone to meet you.”
Joy's curious gaze went to Haley. Haley's throat constricted, and her lips parted. This young girl had enjoyed the love Haley had always craved, but Haley couldn't hate her like she wanted to. A curious mixture of pity, curiosity, and affection surprised her. Maybe it was because of her uncanny resemblance to Chloe.
Haley wet her lips. ”I'm Haley. Haley Walsh.”
Joy stared, and her gaze traveled from the top of Haley's auburn curls to her crutches and missing leg. ”You're Haley? I thought-” She broke off.
”What?”
”Nothing.” Her lips trembled.
”Would you like to go for some ice cream?” Tank put in. ”The two of you can get to know one another.”
”She has work to do,” the woman objected.
Joy turned pleading eyes to the hard-faced woman. ”Please, Alice,” she begged.
Alice gnawed on her lip, then glanced at her watch. ”Half an hour. You be back before Craig gets home from work.”
”Okay.” Joy handed her the child and stepped outside.
Conscious of the girl's rapt expression, Haley wished she could dig out what her parents had led Joy to believe. But did she really want to know?
The small ice cream shop, decorated in red and white, reminded Haley of a Steak 'n Shake in the Lower Forty-eight. The spotless black-and-white tile made an attractive contrast to the rest of the place. Rescue workers and their dogs crowded the cafe. Haley perched on a red stool at a black Formica table and tried to think of how to open the conversation with Joy. Tank seemed to have no trouble. The young girl chattered to him about school, her friends, and her pet cat. A pet. That might be common ground.
”I have a dachshund named Oscar,” Haley said. She pulled her camera to her face and snapped some pictures of the room, then took several pictures of Joy.
”Oh, you have to enter him in the wiener-dog race today!” Joy's dark eyes sparked with enthusiasm. ”It's so fun to watch.”
”I don't know,” Haley began. ”I don't know anything about training for a race.”
”I'll help you,” Joy said. ”Can we go meet Oscar after we eat our ice cream?”
Haley glanced at Tank. He was watching them with an expression that said, How are you going to get out of this? She lifted her chin to meet the challenge in his eyes. ”Sure, we'll do that if we have time.”
The light in Joy's eyes faded. ”Oh, that's right, I have to get home.”
”How is it at the Worleys'?” Tank's voice was gentle.
”It's okay. It's not like it was with Maggie and Dad, but it's okay.” Joy's eyes were moist. She looked at Haley.
”Are you here to figure out who killed them?”
Haley sat back in her chair and exhaled. ”I heard you don't think it was an accident.”
Joy shook her head. ”Do we have to talk about it now? I wanted to get to know you first. Otherwise you might think I'm crazy.” She tipped her head to one side. ”You look like Maggie. She had hair your color.”
”Someone else told me that,” Haley blurted, then wished she'd kept silent. Her admission would prove to Joy that she didn't know her own mother. ”And you look like . . .” She looked down at her hands.
”Like Chloe?” Joy nodded. ”Everyone says that. We both look like Dad.”
”How did you come to live with my, er, our parents?” Haley asked. She'd work up to asking about the fire later.
Joy examined Haley's face. ”Mama was an archeologist who worked with your parents. Your mom was sick, and I guess Dad noticed Mama. I didn't know who my dad was until Mama died in a diabetic coma when I was at school one day. I freaked at first, sure I was going to get stuck living with my aunt and uncle Worley. Our lawyer gave me a letter from Mama that told me everything and said I was to go to my father if anything happened to her. It was pretty wild going to the door that first time. I was scared, but Dad took me right in. And Maggie was great to me right off.” Her smile didn't reach her eyes. ”I know now it was because I looked so much like Chloe. I didn't know for a long time that they had another daughter. It was kind of weird the way they never talked about you.”
Haley's eyes burned, and she couldn't have vocalized a sound past the lump in her throat if her life had depended on it. This wasn't news to her, so why was she upset? She took several shallow breaths and willed herself not to feel the ache in her heart.
”What did you do?” Joy asked. ”They always acted like it was too shameful to talk about. There's nothing that bad.”
Haley looked into Joy's curious eyes. ”Chloe was the perfect child. I don't remember ever hearing her cry. I was into one sc.r.a.pe after another. It was natural they would prefer her.”
”Parents aren't supposed to play favorites,” Tank said.
”Maybe not, but it was hard not to with Chloe. She brightened all our lives.”
”So what did you do?” Joy asked again. ”Something you did when you were a kid is nothing to get a wedgie over.” She took a bite of her ice cream.
It would have been so easy to accept Joy's way out, to not take the blame for what happened, but Haley had to be honest. She shook her head. ”I could be vindictive sometimes.”
”All kids can be.”
”Not to the extent I was.” Haley was suddenly tired of hiding the truth. Once they knew, they'd let her alone to take her pictures. She rubbed her forehead. ”I killed my sister when I was eight.”
Joy put her spoon down. ”I'm sure it was accidental.”
Haley shook her head. ”Chloe had broken my favorite doll, and I hit her. I got in trouble when she cried, and I decided she needed to get in trouble herself.
She was never in trouble, and though I loved her, I got tired of it sometimes.”
”I can understand that,” Tank said.
His soft voice urged her on. She'd show him there was nothing about her to be admired. ”At an archeological dig in the Wrangell Mountains, there was an old mine we were never supposed to go into. It wasn't safe.
We were camped there, and I talked Chloe into going with me to explore. I was going to tell my mother that it was Chloe's idea.” She smiled. ”Stupid, really. My parents knew both our temperaments well enough to know whose idea it was. But I was only eight, and it seemed perfectly logical then.”
She took a deep breath. ”We went to the mine. I had a flashlight, and we went down a narrow tunnel that looked interesting. We were just about to go back when it fell in.” Even now, she could smell the choking dust, hear Chloe's screams. And her own. ”We were trapped by the cave-in, and we just had to hope our parents would find us in time. Rocks fell on both of us. That's how I lost my leg.”
She patted her pant leg where it ended below the knee. ”But Chloe died. Not right away. My flashlight was lost in the cave-in, and I talked to her through the hours. Her voice kept getting weaker and weaker. Finally, she didn't answer no matter how much I begged.” She fell silent. A fresh wave of grief overwhelmed her. ”I loved her so much,” she choked. ”I never wanted to hurt her.”
”You were just a child.” Tank's big hand covered hers. ”You can't blame yourself.”