Hollow bones, p.14
Hollow Bones, page 14
Barnes crouched in front of her as she pulled herself into a seated position and tried to catch her breath, removing the Bible and its hidden contents. Painful coughs racked her body, and her eyes burned from the smoke. She wiped at them, but her hands were as dirty as her face and only made the situation worse.
‘Wait here,’ Barnes said as if Essa had the energy to go anywhere.
She watched a firetruck arrive, men tumbling out and hooking up a hose. A few minutes later, water tried to fight the flames. They looked like spirits in a battle. She leaned on the ground, trying to spit out whatever she’d swallowed. After a while, she felt empty. What did she have left? A paramedic approached with Barnes, slipping an oxygen mask over her face. She barely registered the change.
‘Your hair’s kinda burned but not too bad,’ Barnes said.
Essa saw his worried expression and knew she should feel grateful. Grateful that he’d saved her and that he didn’t seem angry with her. She’d been reckless enough. Instead, she felt wistful. He had a respectable job, probably friends and family. Maybe even a dog. A normal life.
‘I know it’s important to you.’
Everybody thought she was devout instead of confused about how to live in the world. The Bible by her side didn’t help. She touched her braid to find about six inches singed and warm to the touch. Barnes squeezed her shoulder and told her something about needing to talk later. Essa nodded but wasn’t paying attention. She watched the roof of her house collapse. She’d never paid much attention to her roof beyond cleaning the gutters in November, a task she’d watched her father then her brother tackle. When it rained, she put out a pot under the living-room leak then didn’t worry about the problem again until the next storm. Her roof existed, and now it didn’t.
When Barnes approached his partner, they both turned to stare at her, and Essa thought she might giggle. She held in the hysteria, though, and watched the pair talk about her. But surely this would mean her brother was off the hook. He’d been at Juliet’s with Wash, Harry, and possibly even some customers to vouch for him. She barely had time to be relieved when she remembered their argument. How he’d stormed out into the night. Could Clyde have set fire to New Hope and then their home? The old Clyde would never leave her homeless, but had the prospect of becoming a father made him snap? If they lived somewhere else or had been a different kind of people, they’d both be in therapy. Instead, they pretended everything was fine. That they could solve all their own problems with pots and pans. And knives.
Essa wasn’t sure how long she’d been watching her house burn when she felt a hand on her shoulder. She looked to see Charlene Jones shaking her head.
‘You all right, honey? Wait, don’t answer that stupid question. They give you any water?’
Essa shook her head, and Charlene handed her a bottle. Essa removed the oxygen mask and took a sip.
‘I was drivin’ by and noticed you here. Not the only one, I’m afraid.’
Essa looked behind her to see a handful of spectators. Not as many as there had been for New Hope. Maybe a home wasn’t as much of a story as a church. But there were people there all the same.
‘Great,’ Essa said.
‘Ignore ’em,’ Charlene said. ‘And forgive me if I don’t get down there with you. I might not get up again.’
Essa dusted off her skirt as best she could and stood beside Charlene.
‘You got that young lieutenant all worked up.’
Barnes didn’t look particularly worked up. He and Sergeant Sallis were talking to one of the firemen, and Essa noticed neither of the cops wore uniforms. They must have been off duty, though she imagined the Hope murders took all their time, on the clock or off. That’s what the papers had been calling them. ‘Hope Murders Have Vintera on Edge’ and ‘Police Follow Lead in Hope Murders’. Tacky headlines. Like two people being burned to death was some sort of euthanasia. But she understood that sensational tragedy sold papers. Subscribers were tired of reading about overdoses.
‘You got someplace to go?’ Charlene asked, and Essa nodded. She could always sleep in the parking lot at work, she figured.
‘Maybe best you get on there. No sense waitin’ around to watch your things go up in smoke.’
Charlene had the kind of voice that made drunks stay in line. Low and forceful. Her bar had been open for longer than Essa had been alive, and the sound of Charlene telling her what to do made her relax. It was laced with pity, but not enough to make Essa uncomfortable.
‘I’m not sure if I’m allowed.’
‘You go ask that pretty young thing and see what he says.’
On a different night, Essa might have enjoyed hearing the lieutenant described in such a dismissive way, but she only heard the instructions.
When she approached the police officers and fireman, Barnes broke away from the group. He had on jeans and a Philadelphia Phillies sweatshirt. When he tugged his sleeves down, he looked younger than her brother. His hair was flat on one side of his head, and his face dotted with black specks.
‘I’m hoping I don’t have to stay for all this.’ Essa gestured around, noticing the angry red scratches on her bare arms. She’d feel the full force of everything tomorrow.
‘You should probably go to the hospital.’
Essa was already shaking her head before he finished the sentence. ‘I’m fine, thanks to you. I don’t know what I was doing.’
‘I need to talk to you, but it can wait.’
Essa thought about that. ‘I’ll be at work tomorrow.’
‘All right. I guess I wouldn’t take a day off either.’
The comment confused Essa. She’d never missed a day and didn’t plan to start now.
She turned back toward her car, aware of the neighbors who’d gathered to watch. She didn’t look at them, though, and said a silent prayer of thanks when her key turned in the ignition without any problems. Charlene waved at her then got into her own truck and drove away.
When Essa pulled into the lab parking lot, she was grateful for the lamppost. She noticed the familiar details. Stucco exterior in need of power washing. Dead weeds growing out of the sidewalk cracks.
She unlocked the front door, walking quickly to disable the alarm. When she began to wash her hair out in the bathroom sink, her eyes stung from the acrid smell, and she was alarmed by how much fell in clumps on to the porcelain. She used the hand soap as shampoo, and soon the tile under her feet turned wet. When she wrung out her locks over the floor drain, a few more clumps fell out, and her throat tightened. She pushed through the feeling though, cleaning up the mess she’d made.
First, she put all the hair into a hazard bag, then she began to wipe the water. She was on her hands and knees when something popped in another room. Essa paused, rationalizing the noise as the heat kicking on. She’d turned down the temperature before she’d left earlier, but it might be cold enough for the emergency system to activate.
She went back to wiping, but her hands shook. She carried the towels to the laundry room and grabbed the trash bag, typing in the security code and locking the door behind her. She’d parked in the front and didn’t have to walk through the dark lot. She slid inside, knowing she could never sleep there, wondering how she’d ever sleep again.
TWENTY-SIX
Pulling up to a two-story brick home with white columns made Merritt check the address again. She hadn’t been expecting a catalogue-ready neighborhood. The ‘For Sale’ sign out front looked new, the agent’s photoshopped face as genuine as an ambulance chaser. The mailbox was shaped like a dachshund and had the correct house number: 567.
She stepped from the car, pulling her sweatshirt away from her body. It had become sticky during the ride with her heater cranked up, and she was glad to have worn jeans and sneakers. They made her look more approachable, and she needed Kimberly Granieri to trust her. She guessed the woman would be an ally. Maybe together they could take the bastard down. And after the cheerleading practice, she wanted the preacher’s head on a platter. What was he doing sniffing around those teenagers?
When Merritt rang the doorbell, barking greeted her, and she peered through the glass to see three little dogs stampeding. They were followed by a woman in her early thirties who opened the door without checking to see who was on the other side. Too trusting.
‘Can I help you?’ the woman asked, smiling uncertainly then shushing her pets, who sat beside her, wagging their tails.
Merritt wasn’t an animal person, but she had to admit these were an improvement over a coral snake any day.
‘Adorable critters! And I hope so.’ Merritt noted that they had the same blonde, shoulder-length hair and could have been sisters. Or at least clients at the same salon. ‘I’m a reporter with WTGX-Roanoke, and I’m trying to gather some background information about your ex-husband Micah Granieri.’
The woman’s smile faltered, and tears filled her eyes. Merritt had been expecting emotions but would have put her money on anger not heartache. She recalibrated, adjusting her features into ones of sympathy. Her colleagues sometimes called her a robot, but she didn’t mind. Robots kept going long after their humans needed sleep or food. A little maintenance from time to time, and robots were poised to outlast even the most determined person. She’d learned her lesson from the tall tale of John Henry.
‘I hate to bring up something so painful,’ Merritt said in a quieter tone as the woman coughed and tried not to cry.
‘Not ex. Plain old husband. Come on inside then. Watch your step. They do stay underfoot.’
Merritt processed that new information – no formal divorce – trying not to register her delight, and followed Kimberly down a well-lit hallway. She wasn’t exaggerating about the dogs. They pranced around Merritt’s ankles, excited by the prospect of company. Their tags jingled, and their nails clicked on the hardwood floors.
‘Your home is lovely,’ Merritt said and meant it. Once in the living room, she could see windows overlooking a park. ‘I’ve never been to Charlotte before.’
‘We moved to this neighborhood for the school district. Zach started kindergarten this fall.’
Kimberly’s voice broke, and Merritt decided to fume on her behalf. Not only an abandoned wife, but an abandoned child? Mr Granieri deserved to crawl on his belly for the rest of his days. Maybe she could help speed the process.
‘Again I hate to bring up something so painful, but when did he leave?’
‘Four years ago. He came home one day and said he was unfulfilled and unappreciated. His church here was popular but not growing how he wanted it to grow. Nobody watched his sermons online. He wanted to be like one of those preachers down in Texas. A household name. Invited on talk shows. He packed a bag and disappeared. I thought he would come back, you know? At least call to check on Zach, but nothing.’
‘You didn’t track him down?’
‘Oh, I tracked him down. He runs some new church up in West Virginia now. I’ve even seen him on the news— Oh. That must be why you’re here. Another story about the savior of whatever it’s called county.’
‘Not exactly.’ Merritt saw a flicker of pique in Kimberly’s eyes. She could work with that.
‘I’m months behind on mortgage payments for this house Micah picked out. Savings emptied.’
Merritt nodded sympathetically. A divorce would mean alimony and child support. The preacher knew what he was doing.
Kimberly swallowed back her next remark. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t offer you anything. And after that drive? You want some sweet tea or water?’
‘Water sounds great, thanks.’
The woman disappeared into their kitchen, dogs trailing, and Merritt stood, walking over to the fireplace mantel with a row of photographs. She picked up one of the Granieris, Micah’s hair cut short but face hard to miss. They’d made a beautiful family. She glanced around to see ‘late notice’ bills poking out from underneath a stack of magazines. She wanted a closer peek but didn’t dare disturb anything.
Kimberly reappeared with two glasses and cookies on a tray like something out of a sitcom. She set the presentation down on the coffee table, coloring a little when she saw the bills in sight. Merritt pretended to be absorbed by a sailboat painting on the wall, and when she turned back, the bills had disappeared.
‘This is going to sound ridiculous to a career woman like you, but all I ever wanted was Micah and a family. We met right out of college, and he mesmerized me. Not because of how he looked but how he acted, you know? Nobody ever made me feel more, I don’t know, appreciated.’
Any brief glimpse of anger she’d shown had been replaced with nostalgia, and Merritt resisted the urge to gag. God help her if she ever let anyone treat her so badly and she thought of him as anything other than a son of a bitch.
‘I understand,’ Merritt said. She squinted her eyes a little to make the lines around them more prominent.
‘We had trouble conceiving. Well, not conceiving, but I lost a few pregnancies along the way. Then Zach made it. Tough from the beginning.’
‘Kindergarten? Must be fun.’ Merritt did a quick calculation – Micah had left when his son was one.
‘He’s started to act out a little. No father around.’
‘Why sell now? Why not when he left?’
Kimberly looked directly at Merritt, even straightening her posture a bit. ‘I thought he would come back. I thought we were good together.’
‘Mrs Granieri. Kimberly.’ Merritt leaned forward to close the space between them. ‘Would you consider letting me interview you?’
‘I don’t want to get him into any kind of trouble,’ Kimberly said, and Merritt nodded even though she didn’t understand.
‘People deserve to hear your side of the story. That’s all I’m interested in. Stories.’
It would be a scandal, the hidden wife of a beloved preacher. It would make for great television. If she stayed long enough, maybe Zach would get dropped off from school. Merritt petted the dog that had jumped on to the couch beside her. Its fur was soft and its expression adoring. Merritt scrunched her nose at the thing as if completely smitten, as if her career didn’t depend on a languishing wife.
‘Who’s the cutest boy? Are you the cutest? Yes you are.’ Merritt spoke pet owner.
‘OK,’ Kimberly said at last. ‘Maybe if he sees how much I love him.’
Merritt didn’t respond right away, continuing to pet the dog, glad she’d packed a handheld camera. The footage wouldn’t be as good without P.J., but she couldn’t handle a road trip with the kid. Three hours there and three hours back? No, this would be better anyway. More authentic. Kimberly Granieri would open up without a young man around, especially one who would be checking her out. Merritt’s thoughts bounced in anticipation as she shuffled through questions she could ask for the most emotional response. This was a real get.
‘Maybe,’ she said, smiling. ‘You might be right.’
TWENTY-SEVEN
Juliet laid out pants and tops on her red comforter, talking to herself about textures and coordination, lost in the task. Essa tried to object, saying she only needed to borrow a couple of things, but Juliet waved off her concerns.
‘It’s almost time for spring cleaning anyhow,’ she said.
Without her wig and heavy makeup, Juliet could be a high-school English teacher fresh from college, eager to start her career and a family. It was as if Juliet had two different personalities, one for day and one for night. Her hair stuck up in places, and Essa guessed she normally didn’t get up this early with her late-night clientele. Essa hated that she had nowhere else to go. Thankfully Clyde had gone to the auto shop after his boss decided to let him work off the books. The kitchen looked like the site of an all-night rager, but Juliet’s bedroom was quiet and clean. Almost a retreat. She had plastic star stickers on her ceiling and an outdated poster of the solar system. Her bookshelves were filled with titles like The Psychic Way Forward and Beginner’s Reiki. Essa admitted she might have been wrong about Juliet. It had been easy to dismiss her business as a racket. Her interest, at least, seemed sincere enough.
‘Try these on. They’ll look good on you.’
Essa obeyed, taking the jeans and soft, long-sleeved T-shirt into the bathroom. It smelled like roses, and warm air pushed through the floor vent. The trailer was light years ahead of the rectory in terms of creature comforts. Juliet had made the place a home. On any other day, Essa would have felt better, but it was all too much for her.
She took off her skirt and blouse, knowing they both were ruined. The hem was singed, and the smoke would never come out. She should have thrown away her underwear and bra as well, but she didn’t have any others. She’d drive over to the river-side Walmart when she got a chance.
She pulled on the dark blue denim, rolling the cuffs. Juliet had a few inches on her, but the pants zipped. After slipping the T-shirt over her head, she looked in the mirror. It wasn’t a total transformation, but the clothes fit better than her mother’s ever had. She seemed to be wearing them rather than the other way around.
Juliet knocked on the door then opened it, brandishing a pair of scissors. Essa wasn’t excited about the possibility of an amateur haircut, but she didn’t want to spend money on a real one either.
‘I can’t do this standing up.’ Juliet pushed down the toilet-seat lid and dropped on top of it. She rubbed her belly. ‘The starfish’s eager to get out, get things going.’
‘Can’t blame the little one,’ Essa said, sitting on the linoleum in front of Juliet and unknotting her hair. A few more pieces fell off the ends, and Essa picked them up.
