I helped Mom clean up the table and load the dishwasher. She never said thank you or anything, but she appreciated it when I helped out. That was at least one thing I knew about her.
“Thanks for having supper with me.” I picked up my book bag and was on my way to my room when she stopped me.
“Hattie.” She wrung the dishrag out in the sink and draped it over the faucet to dry.
“Yeah?”
“Maybe you should go out with Tommy. It would be good for you to socialize, make friends in the real world, instead of surfing away on your phone like you do all the time lately.”
I should have just agreed, but ever since I bought my Motorola this summer she acted like I was carrying Satan in my purse. Like I wasn’t going to school, and work, and rehearsals. Why couldn’t I text my friends and check my forums? “The internet’s not full of made-up people, Mom. They’re real, too.”
“Yes, but it’s important to talk to people face-to-face. You don’t know who some of these people are.”
“Of course I do. They’re people just like me.”
“Oh, honey . . .” She shook her head and looked at me, looked right through me until I really did feel like I was nothing more than a ten-year-old girl playing New York dress-up by way of Rochester, Minnesota.
“There’s still a lot for you to learn about the world.”
“Like what?” I bristled, ready to argue with her, but she just smiled like I’d proven her point.
“Don’t stay up too late.” She came and kissed me on the cheek, her library book in one hand, cholesterol pills in the other. I watched her walk down the hallway into their bedroom and turn on her nightstand lamp. Her hair was almost half gray now. And for about the millionth time in my life, I wondered who my mother wanted me to be.
DEL / Sunday, April 13, 2008
JAKE AND I headed over to the Kinakis place right after the play.
“You think Tommy had something to do with it?” he asked.
Jake was still acting a little sore because I’d made him leave his cruiser at the station and ride with me. He didn’t think two seconds ahead sometimes. I wasn’t going to spook Tommy with two cop cars pulling up in front of his house. Out here, intimidation is never the right way to go, no matter what the city boys say. Country people know themselves. They don’t do anything they think they shouldn’t just because you wave a badge at them. And the more badges you wave, the more stubborn some of them get. It was all the Norwegian and Irish blood.
“I don’t think anything about Tommy, except from what we know so far, Hattie might have left the school with him.”
“And she was definitely dating him,” he added.
“Yep.”
“Big kid.”
“Hmm.”
I could tell Jake was thinking along the same lines as me. Last year, sixty-five percent of all the women killed in Minnesota were done in by domestic violence. The number rang true around the station when the stats came out. We were a quiet county and we didn’t have the murders, but we still saw a fair amount of domestics. Too many.
“So he takes Hattie out to get a little action at the Erickson barn after the play. Friday night, springtime, kids are going to be kids. They get into a fight about something and things get out of hand.”
I snorted. “You’re no more than a damn kid yourself. Sound like some TV cop.”
“I’m just putting together the story.”
“That’s Tommy’s job.”
We pulled into the Kinakis place and right away the wife came to the screen door. Martha, I think her name was. Jake and I took our time getting out of the car. If you weren’t there to arrest somebody, it was always a good idea to give them a minute or so to puzzle out why you were there. They drew their own conclusions, and sometimes when you got to talking, they’d fill in blanks you didn’t even know were there.
“Mrs. Kinakis.” I pulled my hat off as we approached. “Is Tommy home?”
“He is.” She looked between each of us, not willing to step aside and let us in quite yet. “He’s in pretty bad shape, though. We just got the news.”
“That’s why we’re here.”
“Can’t it wait till tomorrow? I was going to let him stay home from school.”
“Afraid not. This is a murder investigation and we need to talk to everyone who saw Hattie on Friday night. Now, we can do it here or down at the station. You decide.”
She looked torn for a minute, kind of scared and mad wrapped up together, before opening the screen door and waving us in.
We waited in the living room while she got him. Jake paced around, tapping his hat on his leg, while I looked over the pictures sitting on top of an upright piano. Lots of football shots, lots of Tommy riding tractors and posing with dead deer and pheasants.
Tommy came into the room with a parent on either side. He looked about five years old—round face blotchy with emotion, flannel shirt untucked, arms hanging like he didn’t know he had them. At first he seemed like he wanted to say something, then just dropped his head and waited.