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Cold Hearts(26)

By:Sharon Sala


Now it was her age and her dental problems that had driven her to make this move, and she was not happy about having to come here. The fact that the dog was still around made her even more unhappy.

She was sitting on a bench near the door, watching for her ride while keeping an eye on her things, when she saw a pickup pull up out front. She scooted closer to the edge of her seat, but when she saw the driver get out and close the door, she gasped, and when he walked inside the terminal the first words out of her mouth were “What the fuck happened to you?”

Louis winced. “Had an accident at work today. Are those your things?”

Pinky sighed. “Louis? That is you, isn’t it?”

Louis frowned and then winced from the pain.

“After all these years you still can’t tell me and Reece apart.”

She sputtered a bit, but seeing the condition he was in, she grabbed her own bags and started out the door. “Well, you can’t blame me for not knowing. I mean, your face looks like shit.”

“Yeah, well, his does, too,” Louis said, not bothering to help her.

Pinky slung her bags into the truck bed and then glanced at her son again as she got in, feeling bad she’d been so rude. “I’m sorry you got hurt. What happened?”

He started the engine. “Ceiling fell in on me at school.”

Pinky frowned. “Well, my goodness, son. That’s just awful. Want me to drive?”

“Do you have a license?” he asked.

“No, but—”

“Then, never mind,” he said, and drove away.

Pinky sighed and tried to start over. “So, where’s Reece?”

“Asleep.”

She frowned again.

Louis felt the need to explain. “These days he’s only awake at night. That’s when he does his stock market stuff.”

She rode in silence for a few moments, digesting how that might affect her situation.

“I can’t believe that damn dog is still around. Shit. I do not like that little mutt.”

“It doesn’t matter what you like, Mama. It’s his home, not yours, and if anything happens to Bobo, something might happen to you. Reece is a little crazy now.”

Pinky gasped and then laughed, certain that was meant as a joke, but when Louis didn’t join in, she suddenly shivered. It might have been a mistake to come here. She had to think of something to change the atmosphere or she would never be able to go in the house.

“So you said something happened to Reece’s face, too?”

“Yes, and you’re not gonna like it.”

“What do you mean?”

“He’s at it again, Mama.”

The knot in Pinky’s stomach suddenly got tighter. “What do you mean?”

“He’s been stalking another woman. He broke into her house and fought with some man. His face is all messed up, and he said he stabbed the man and thinks he might have killed him.”

Pinky screamed and then clasped her hands over her mouth, staring at Louis in disbelief.

“Oh, my God! What did I do to deserve this? How did I give birth to such a monster?”

Louis was somewhat mollified by the fact that for once Mama was more pissed at Reece than she was at him.

“Well, we’re home,” he said, as he pulled up to the little house and parked.

He got out, unlocked the door and went in without offering to help her. The way he looked at it, she’d invited herself here. The sooner she figured out it wasn’t the best idea she’d ever had, the sooner she would leave.

Pinky’s hands were shaking as she struggled to get her bags out of the truck bed. Right now, she had nowhere else to go but here, but she wasn’t going to waste time before beginning to look for another way out of the predicament she was in.

She dragged her bags into the house, and then shut the door and looked around. It wasn’t as messy as she’d expected. She saw the little terrier eyeing her from the throw rug and then looked away. Even the dog didn’t want her here.

“Louis!”

He walked out of the kitchen. “What?”

“Where do I sleep?”

He pointed to the sofa.

“You mean you—”

“Unless you want to sleep with Reece.”

“A woman needs her privacy,” she muttered.

“Reece has money. Tell him to rent you an apartment in town,” he said as he walked back into the kitchen.

Pinky’s eyes lit up as she followed him. “Reece has money? More money than you?”

Louis looked down as he began measuring coffee into the coffeemaker.

“Yes. He makes a lot of money with his stocks. He’s very good at short sales and futurities.”

She thought of the dumps she’d been living in for the past five years and started to get mad, then thought better of it.

“So you think you might talk to Reece and tell him I need a place of my own?”

Louis shook his head. “Reece doesn’t listen to me. He never did. You know that.”

Pinky sighed. “Come on, Louis, you know you—”

“No, Mama! Don’t say it!”

She sighed. “Fine. I’ll ask Reece myself. When did you say I might expect to see him?”

“He wakes up at night, after I go to bed.”

“Fine. I’ll talk to him tonight.” Then she saw the pain in Louis’s face and felt bad again. “Is there anything I can do? I’ll make supper if you want to go rest or something.”

Louis shrugged. He did want to lie down. He felt like shit.

“I guess you can,” he said. “I don’t feel so good.”

“I’ll bet you don’t,” Pinky said. She headed for the refrigerator. “What do you want me to make?”

“Whatever you can find. There’s not much here. I was going to go get groceries and then I got hurt. I’ll go tomorrow.”

“We’ll make do,” she said. “It’ll be like old times. Mama will find a way to make a yummy meal out of bits and pieces. Remember bits and pieces?” she asked.

Louis was still looking at the floor. “Was that before Daddy hanged himself, or afterward?”

The smile on Pinky’s face froze as Louis walked out of the room.

* * *



Trey pulled up to his mother’s house, then sat for a few moments gathering his thoughts. With the revelation about Paul’s murder and the letter from the safety deposit box, it was no longer possible to let his mother off the hook about answering questions. It was his opinion that her life was in danger. Whatever she remembered, no matter how vague, he needed to know, and he was counting on her being more receptive to answering his questions than having someone else interview her for him.

He picked up the video recorder as he got out of the cruiser, noticing as he headed toward the house that Trina was home. He frowned. She didn’t usually get off until 4:00 p.m. He hoped nothing had happened to their mom to prompt her early return.

He was on the porch and about to walk in when he remembered the security system and knocked instead.

A few moments later his mother opened the door, which triggered a bell-like sound. It wasn’t the alarm indicating a break-in but a warning to let her know the front door had been opened.

“So are you getting used to the security system?”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m making pie,” she said as she headed back to the kitchen.

“Why is Trina home? Is she sick?”

Betsy picked up the rolling pin and continued to roll out the pie dough as she talked.

“As I understand it, she and Lee had a horrible fight and broke up. I don’t know what prompted it. I don’t know what to say to her other than I’m so sorry. She has to cry herself out. It’s sad. That’s all.”

Trey sighed. He knew all too well how it felt to be without the person you loved. Thank God he and Dallas were back together.

“I’m sorry to hear that. I like Lee. I wonder what happened.”

“It doesn’t really matter what happened when you’re grieving the loss,” she said. Then she deftly transferred the piecrust to the fruit-filled pie plate beside her and began crimping the edges of the crusts to keep the juices from bubbling over into the oven.

“I guess you’re right about that,” Trey said, gauging the expression on her face against why he’d come. “Are you nearly finished?” he asked.

She nodded. “After your last phone call, I suppose you’re here on official business.”

“Yes.”

She slid the pie into the oven, washed her hands and then sat down at the table. “Okay, I’m ready for questioning.”

Trey sighed. “Mom, it’s—”

She slapped the flat of her hand on the table.

“I know what it is. Just get it over with,” she snapped, shoving the gray curls away from her face.

He tried not to take her anger personally and turned on the recorder as he sat, identifying himself for the recording, stating the date and time and the name of the person being interviewed. Then he pulled out a notebook with questions he’d prepared earlier.

“What link do you have to Dick Phillips and Paul Jackson?”

Her right eye twitched, but her voice was calm when she answered, “We went to high school together. I dated Paul Jackson, and we were all in a wreck together the night of our graduation.”

“Did anything happen prior to the wreck that would make you think your lives would be in danger?”