Part 20 (1/2)
I dreamed about fire all night.
I awoke to a thumping on my door. It was Cynthia, and she looked terrified.
”I'm sorry to bother you. I'm sorry,” she said, glancing back toward the street nervously. Everything cast long shadows; it was very early, probably no more than an hour past dawn. ”But I don't have anyone else to turn to.”
”Er, come in.” I stepped away from the door to let her in. I had fallen asleep wearing my pants, but I didn't have a s.h.i.+rt on. I could feel Cynthia watching me as I dug out a clean one.
I retreated to the bathroom to wash my face. I used cold water. I was sure she hadn't dropped by for a quick roll in the sheets.
When I returned, I gestured for her to sit at the table. I sat at the foot of the bed. After a moment's hesitation, she lowered herself into the chair. She was wearing a long-sleeved, chocolate-brown dress that just reached her knees, white stockings, and little, flat-soled brown shoes. Simple, but she looked very good.
I made a point of looking at her eyes. ”What's the problem?”
”It's Cabot,” she said. ”Emmett let him out of prison this morning.”
”Ah, s.h.i.+t. Who told you this?”
”Does it matter?”
”I asked, didn't I?”
She looked at the floor. ”I'm sorry, I-”
”Hold on,” I said. ”I didn't mean to snap at you.” I noticed the tiny coffeemaker on the table beside her. ”Hey, do you want a cup of probably terrible coffee?” I stood.
She jumped out of her chair. ”I'll get it. I need something to keep me busy.”
She went into the bathroom to fill the pot, and I went to the window and peered around the edge of the curtain. Cynthia's silver SUV was parked beside the manager's office, but everything else looked the same.
She came out of the bathroom with a pot full of water, poured grounds into the filter, and filled the brewer halfway.
”Why don't you fill it up,” I said. ”I'm going to need it.”
”You don't have enough coffee. Too much water and you get bitter coffee.”
I shrugged and sat on the foot of the bed again. I thought all coffee was bitter. What did I know?
”Where did you get those tattoos?” she asked. ”Behind bars?”
There was something in the artificially casual tone of her voice that I didn't trust. ”No. After.”
”So you have been to jail.”
”Yep. Prison, too.”
She looked at me, trying to decide if that was a joke. She was still undecided when she started the coffeemaker.
”Why... what did you...”
I decided to help her out. ”What did I do to get sent to prison?”
”Um, yeah.”
”You have an awful lot of questions for me all of a sudden. Or are these the questions you meant to ask me yesterday?”
”Well, I came here to see you, so-”
”You can go if you want. The door's right there. But don't think I'm going to answer a lot of questions if you won't answer mine. Who told you that Emmett released Cabot this morning?”
”Okay. That's fair.” She set the two cups on the table. The coffeemaker had stopped brewing, but I could see liquid still dripping into the pot. ”It was Sugar Dubois.”
”Why did he do that?”
”He didn't say, but we were in high school together. We knew each other a little, and he was always nice. Deferential, even, like some boys get when they have a crush.”
”He warned you because he had a crush on you in high school? Is there more to it than that?”
”Not to the crush. We never dated or anything. He was too far below me then. Don't make that face. It was high school. You know what that was like.”
Actually, I didn't. I never stayed in school for more than a couple of weeks at a time, although I'd gotten my GED in prison. Not that I was going to tell Cynthia that. ”High school is over. Is he making a move on you right now?” It made sense, if the Dubois brothers wanted to consolidate power in the town.
”Ugh. I think he knows better.”
Okay. I'll bet he did. ”Do you think Emmett put him up to it?”
”Why do you ask that?”
”Questions with questions.” Before she could apologize, I said: ”It seems strange to me that he'd go against his own brother because of a schoolyard crush.”
”I don't think it's that simple. Sugar loves his brothers, but he's always wanted to be a cop. Actually, I think he always wanted to be a cop on TV, and I don't think the setup his brother has here in Hammer Bay is what he had in mind. He has to accept some of what they do-they're his brothers-but letting Cabot go when he might take another shot at me... I think they went just a little too far this time.”
I didn't say anything to that. Emmett turned into a wolf and tore people's throats out, and I suspected his brothers were the same. Setting Cabot free was small potatoes for them.
I wasn't sure what play Emmett was making by setting Cabot loose. Was he hoping Cabot would take another shot at Cynthia, or was he trying to keep things as chaotic as possible, just as I was?
Cynthia pa.s.sed me a coffee cup. She'd filled it while I wasn't paying attention. I took a sip. It wasn't bitter. How about that? There's a right way to do things after all.
”That's what I think, anyway,” Cynthia said. She sipped her coffee and winced. It was obviously below her standards. To me, it was wonderful. ”Now, how about you?”
I shrugged. ”I went to prison because I was in a fight.”
”That must have been some fight.”
”Actually, it wasn't much of a fight at all. And it's not something I'm proud of.”
”I'll drop it.”