Part 11 (2/2)
Beth's voice nearly made her weep. G.o.d, I've missed her, Avery thought.
”Hey,” she said. ”It's Avery.”
”Oh.” It was a genuine sound of surprise and the silence that followed was completely different than the silence she'd experienced with Ramirez forty minutes ago. This silence carried a sorrowful weight between the two phones.
”Am I bothering you?” Avery asked.
”No, not really. I'm just shocked to hear from you.”
The southern tw.a.n.g in Beth's voice made Avery smile. Beth had been born and raised in West Virginia before Avery's parents had adopted her at the age of seven. And although they had moved to Maine and then Ma.s.sachusetts through their childhood, that southern accent had never faded away.
”Well, my mind has been to some strange places today,” Avery admitted. ”I had this memory...this thought, I guess. It made me think about you. I sort of just wanted to check in. I know it seems like I've forgotten about you a lot of the time and...”
She didn't finish the statement. She purposefully stopped, hoping Beth would pick up the thread.
”Avery, that's okay,” she said. ”I could have called, too. But I chose not to. I figured you thought the same way. Mom and Dad died, you went off to college, I did my own thing. We separated. We moved on. It happens sometimes.”
”But sisters,” Avery said. ”Sisters should be different.”
”Do you still feel like my sister?” Beth asked.
”Of course I do. If I didn't, I sure as h.e.l.l wouldn't have called you.” She almost followed Beth's question up with the same question. She decided not to, though. She was actually afraid of what the answer might be. Beth had said time and time again how as an adopted kid, she never felt connected to Avery. She'd said these things when she was p.i.s.sed or moody all through their teen years, though. As such, Avery had never thought much of it.
But now with years and physical distance between them, those old comments carried a sting with them.
”So what are you up to?” Beth asked. ”Still with the Boston police?”
”Yes,” Avery said, surprised by the attempt at conversation. ”How about you? Are you still working for that...what was it? An ad firm?”
”It was, yeah. But I'm doing freelance design now.”
”How's that going?” Avery asked.
”Pretty good.” She paused, let out a sigh, and then added: ”Look, Avery. Are we for real going to try to do this? Are we really going to pretend that it hasn't been a year and a half since we last spoke? Are we going to pretend that there isn't this...this ghost sitting between us every time we speak?”
”Beth, it's not a-”
”Let's be honest,” Beth interrupted. ”When we split apart, we went our separate ways. And we're not doing too bad for ourselves. Can't we just leave it at that? Maybe we're better when we're far apart-when we're just memories for each other.”
”Is that what you'd prefer?” Avery asked.
”Yeah, it sort of is. Thinking about you and Mom and Dad and everything that happened...all it does is hurt. And I chose a while ago to not do that to myself.”
”If that's what you want,” Avery said.
”Thanks for calling, sis. But I'm going to go now.”
Avery said nothing. Her apartment was so quiet that she heard the click when Beth ended the call.
She set her phone down softly on the kitchen table and slowly walked into the living room. She sat down on the couch and looked at the scattered files on the current case. She gave them only a cursory glance at first; her mind was elsewhere.
Let's do the math, she thought. That's a daughter, a maybe-boyfriend, and an estranged sister that I have managed to drive further away in less than four hours. That's got to be some kind of a record. What the actual f.u.c.k is wrong with me?
She was tempted to go to the fridge and start on the beer. But she knew that would only make things worse. It would make her more p.r.o.ne to overthinking her troubles and it would hinder her with a hangover in the morning.
Instead, she buried herself elsewhere...in the only other avenue she had ever really known to effectively absorb grief.
She turned back to her work, now more obsessed than ever with the case and finding a way to capture what was turning out to be a truly s.a.d.i.s.tic killer.
Quickly, her mind took a sharp and dark turn. There was somewhere else she had always turned when things had gotten hard. Had she not been three very tall gla.s.ses of wine into the night, she might have realized that this was something of a crutch for her. But she was pleasantly buzzed and her thoughts, while frantic, were also very easy to twist into shapes that made sense to her in that moment.
She found herself thinking of Howard Randall.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN.
With the same nervous sort of queasiness overcoming her that she always experienced when visiting Howard, Avery found herself being led through South Bay House of Corrections, nearing B-Level. The guards that led her were making it quite clear that they did not enjoy this detail, doing so without saying a single word.
With only their footfalls to break the silence, the guards led Avery to the same small conference room she'd visited a few times before. And just like on those previous visits, Howard Randall was seated at a rectangular table, sitting in a prim and proper manner. He smiled at her as she stepped into the room. The guards shut the doors behind her, leaving Avery alone with Howard.
”Avery, I can't even begin to explain how lovely it is to see you again.”
Avery only nodded as she took her seat. Howard looked to be in pretty bad shape. He looked thinner than the last time she had seen him. Something about his face looked hollow and almost empty. Still, it pained her to admit that something about him made her feel almost at ease. He might be psychotic and selfish, but he was familiar.
And given the way she had handled her life as of late, she could use a little familiarity.
”Thanks for agreeing to meet with me,” Avery said.
”Of course. I a.s.sume it's about this deplorable man that is burning his victims?”
”How did you-?”
She had nearly asked how did you know? but they had been through this same song and dance before. He had avenues to information within the prison walls. Avery wasn't sure where he got his information from but he had proven time and time again that he had very little problem keeping in the loop. This was especially true when it came to cases she was handling.
”It is,” Avery admitted.
”You know, it almost hurts my feelings that you never visit just to see me or to chat,” Howard teased, giving her a thin little smile.
”I'm sure you understand that I don't have much free time to just swing by and chat.” What she thought but didn't say was: If I can't make quality time for my own daughter, I'm certainly not going to make it for you.
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