Why had Dad hogged this picture of Mom all to himself? Why had he told me there were no photos of her, and why had he never told me how much I resembled her?
I was restless, and I realized I hadn’t worked out at all since Dad had passed, other than the quick mile on the treadmill. Although he’d been a slave driver when it came to training, I was glad because being in good shape made me feel easier. Since I was little, he’d tell me he wanted me to be like Sarah Connor in Terminator II, “except without the crazy,” he’d say. Because you’ve got that part covered for both of us. I’d always thought it but never said it.
I ran on the treadmill for an hour and then lifted weights while the dogs lay on the floor watching me. I did my best thinking during workouts, and I needed a plan. No one could help me. I had to do it myself, even if it meant what I did wasn’t exactly legal.
I didn’t want to break the law, but the law sure wasn’t doing me any favors. I needed to see what was in that box and on that laptop and in the envelope, and the only way to do that was to go to Mr. Dooley’s office when he wasn’t in and take them. But how was I going to get there when I couldn’t drive? It was thirteen miles to Saw Pole. I had to find someone other than Randy to take me there.
Sarx cocked an ear and jumped to his feet, followed quickly by Tesla. They both growled and then galloped up the stairs. I toweled off and followed them, on alert. They stood at the front door barking.
I looked through the bars on our bulletproof windows, and there was Randy’s pickup truck sitting in the road, idling, with only the parking lights on.
Randy stayed in front of the house for a little over an hour. I knew that most regular -people would call the police, but those -people didn’t have a father who told them endlessly that cops were never to be trusted. While Deirdre Walsh was my hero, she was just a character in a TV show. Real cops weren’t straight arrows like she was, according to my dad.
Should I send the dogs out? Should I go out there to talk to Randy myself? Talk about what? I didn’t have anything to say to him.
What could he be thinking? Sitting out in the truck with the engine running did not say “protection” to me. It whispered something entirely different.
In the end, I turned on the TV, but the dogs whined and barked, paced and jumped at the door, until Randy finally moved on, long past midnight.
Chapter 9
Sunday
I WAS ALMOST ready to execute my plan. The preparations included a lot of walking, which took me two miles down the road I had never walked, and I was assaulted by the smells of the greening hay and thistles. The sky felt so huge overhead, so limitless, with its high, wispy spiderweb clouds. The dogs came with me, following along vigilantly, barking occasionally. While we were out, the iPhone buzzed in my pocket and I pulled it out. King, Randy, it said. I let it ring and go to voice mail. A few minutes later it buzzed again, and again I let it go. This happened twice more, and I thought about turning it off, but instead I answered after the fifth buzz.
“Hello,” I said.
“Petty, I’d like to take you out on a real date. Maybe go into Salina for dinner, spend some money on you.”
“No.”
There was a pause. “No?”
“No.”
“Do you think you’ll start talking to me after we get married?”
I didn’t say anything.
“Hey,” he shouted. “I’m talking to you.”
“I’m not going to marry you,” I said, and clicked end. Then I turned off the phone.
Detective Deirdre Walsh had a suitor who wanted to control her. She thought it was the right thing for a while, but then she realized she didn’t want some man telling her what to do and how to dress, so she pulled the engagement ring off her finger, dropped it into his Chinese food, and walked out of the restaurant.
Back at the house, everything was ready for tomorrow, and I was excited as I went downstairs for my workout. I ran on the treadmill longer than I normally did to burn off some of the nervous energy, even though I’d already walked four miles earlier in the day. I got in the shower and took my time about it since I didn’t know when my next shower would be. After drying off, I put on some sweat pants and a T--shirt, and sat down in front of the television. The long run had paid off, because I was sleepy as well as tired. I was about to turn on the TV when I heard one of the dogs give a sharp cry of pain out in front of the house. Then I heard another yelp and I jumped up and ran to the door. As soon as I unlocked the last dead bolt, I was knocked backward by it swinging open.
“Hi, Petty,” said Randy. “Did you miss me?” His face was shiny and red, and I smelled whiskey.
I reached for my blade just as I realized I hadn’t put on my bra.
He pulled a hand cannon out of the back of his jeans and pointed it at the screen door, which poor Tesla was hurling himself at frantically. The dog’s eyes were red, puffy and running.
“You pull anything, I shoot the dog,” Randy said, his words slurred.