I heave a sigh to let her know that I’m annoyed. “What do you need in here, anyway? Doesn’t look like there’s much to save.”
She enters the first bedroom, which is in only marginally better shape than the kitchen and living room. Scraps of paper are strewn all over the floor and burnt cardboard shoe boxes have been cast aside. The thieves have been rooting around in here, too.
Gracie steps over the heaps of trash, heading for the nightstand to collect a square book from the floor. She attempts to flip the cover open, but it falls apart within her grasp. I hear her hiss “dammit” under her breath. “Their wedding album.” She tosses the book to the bed, a look of dismay twisting her features. “And those were all her pictures. They’re all gone. Every last one.”
It takes me a moment to realize that the scraps of paper littering the carpet are photographs. Were photographs.
She moves for the closet. And pauses. “You shouldn’t leave the money alone out there.”
“I can bring it in and—”
“I left a list of rehab centers on your dash. The nurse marked off the best ones. Call them to see which ones are taking people right away.”
I sigh with relief. She’s going to use the money. Good. “So your mom has agreed?”
“Let me worry about that. You call. From outside.”
A dismissal if I’ve ever heard one. “Holler if you need me.”
* * *
“I thought dry heat was supposed to be easier to manage.”
The old woman, Vilma, raises an eyebrow.
“Hot.” I fan myself with the rehab list, beads of sweat beginning to form at the back of my neck. I told Gracie I’d be within earshot, but I’m regretting that now. She’s been in there for a good twenty minutes, banging away at something metal-sounding, and I’m baking under a hot desert sun on these concrete steps.
I get nothing but a hard stare in return as Vilma rocks herself back and forth in her chair, her left foot doing all the work. So, I go back to reading up on Desert Oaks. It’s the only rehab center marked that has an immediate opening. They can take Dina as early as tomorrow.
I told them we’d take the spot.
With a sigh of accomplishment, I slide my phone into my pocket and look up.
The old woman is still staring at me.
So is the dog.
“Fuck,” I mutter, averting my gaze. Any minute now, tumbleweeds are going to roll by and the twang of a harmonica will carry through the corridor of trailers, like an old western face-off. This place is desolate. Black squiggles of graffiti, boarded-up windows, dented trash bins, rusted chain-link fences that half hang from their frames, keeping nothing and no one out. Occasionally, someone will pass by on their bike or on foot, their somber expressions and suspicious eyes reminding me that I don’t belong here.
At least that Sims guy is nowhere to be seen.
My phone rings and Silas’s name shows up on the screen. I answer it without thinking, happy for the distraction. “Hey.”
“Judy’s got your room ready.”
Shit. I’m supposed to be moving there today. “Would y’all mind terribly if I bring my things over during the week?”
“I suppose not. When?”
“I’m not exactly sure.”
“What’s going on, Noah? Have you changed your mind? Because she spent hours—”
“No, I haven’t, I swear. I’m just out of town right now.”
There’s a pause, and I can picture Silas’s frown. “You never said anything about going away this weekend. Where are you?”
“Arizona. It was last-minute.”
“Oh? Friends out there?”
“Yeah, I guess. Sort of.” I was hoping to be back home before anyone noticed I was gone. “I’ll fill you in when I see you.”
I hear the heavy creak of his office chair. “Oh, this sounds like something I’d rather hear now.”
There’s that tone of his, the one that says he knows I’m hiding something. He always knows.
I sigh. “I came to meet Abe’s daughter.”
Silence hangs. “Why would you do that?”
This is Silas, I remind myself. I can trust him.
Except Mom obviously didn’t want Silas knowing about this money either. She didn’t want her law-abiding, straight-laced big brother knowing what she was involved in.
“Noah!”
Fuck me. “Mom left money, with a note and Gracie’s address, asking me to bring it to her.”
“Money.”
“Yes, sir. Money.”
There’s another long pause. “How much are we talking about here?”
I hesitate. “Enough to raise eyebrows.”
“You should have talked to me about this first.”
“Why? So you could talk me out of coming here? She asked me to do it, Silas.” I peel myself off the steps and wander away from the trailer, glancing over my shoulder to make sure Gracie isn’t standing there. “And they need it. You should see how they’re living.” I quietly tell him about the fire and Dina overdosing.
“Good lord,” he mutters. “How is the girl handling this?”
“Better than you’d expect. She’s tough.”
“And what did you tell her?”
“Nothing. Just that Mom left it for her.”
“But you didn’t say anything about what Jackie said that night, did you?”
“No.” At least, not all of it.
“That’s for the best, Noah.”
Silas is still in denial. I wish I could be, too. “But why leave the money for Gracie and Dina then, if she didn’t have something to feel guilty about?”
“I imagine she felt sorry for how their lives turned out.”
“Then why not include it as part of the will?” It’s like she didn’t want a record of it anywhere.
“Hmm . . .” I can almost see his brow furrowing as he considers that. “It would have taken months to get to her. It sounds like Dina didn’t have that much time. Had your mother taken any trips to Arizona lately?”
“I don’t know.” We could go days without actually seeing each other, communicating only through texts. She could easily have hopped in her BMW and driven the twelve hours.
“I tried to make it right. But I couldn’t face her. After all this time, I couldn’t face what I’d done to her.”
What if she was talking about coming here and seeing Dina?
“From what I remember, Abe’s wife didn’t take too kindly to Jackie or anyone from the APD after his death. Maybe Jackie thought she would have refused it. I don’t know, Noah. But leaving money for her old partner’s family isn’t evidence of anything except your mother’s generous heart.”
And maybe a guilty conscience.
Silas’s excuse doesn’t explain the gun holster I also found. But that news is for another time, not over the phone, two states away.
Cyclops’s head suddenly jolts up. A low growl rumbles from his chest, and then he’s charging toward me. I freeze, ready to punt him at the first sign of teeth. But he scampers past me, hiding beneath an overturned wheelbarrow, as a white van rounds the corner, the words Animal Control painted across the side.
“Smart little bastard.”
“Excuse me?” The shock in Silas’s voice has me chuckling.
“Not you. This stray dog.”
“Stray dog?”
“With one eye. Damn ugly thing.”
“Remember that one that bit you?”
I roll my eyes. “Vaguely.” The shift in conversation seems to have defused the tension.
Silas sighs. “So, no idea when you’ll be back?”
“We’re likely putting Dina in rehab tomorrow. I don’t want to leave Gracie alone to do it.” And I got the feeling earlier, when I told her I’d stay, that she was relieved. Though, she’s impossible to read.
“And Gracie? Where will she stay?”
“I got her a room in a motel.”
“I hope it’s nicer than that trailer park.”
“Yeah, it’s decent enough.” Anything’s better than this place. “It’s called Cactus Inn or something like that. Everything around here is named after a cactus or a desert. Anyway, she has enough money to get herself an apartment.”
“Good. How’d she turn out? I remember thinking she’d grow up to be a real looker.”
“You weren’t wrong.” Even scowling, Gracie turns heads.
“Hmm . . .” The sound is laced with insinuation.
“It’s not like that.” Frankly, I’m not sure if she even likes me as a human being.