Low Pressure

Her eyes flashed with anger. “Go to hell.”

“I’ve been,” he fired back.

She stood up so abruptly that her chair went over backward, making a slamming sound against the floor that reverberated and shocked them both into silence.

She turned to pick up the chair, but Dent stepped around the table and set it upright before she could. He’d made her temper flare. He was intentionally goading her, and he didn’t know why, but he knew he didn’t like himself for it. He’d begun to notice how weary she looked. Given her father’s condition, and the state of her house upon her return from Houston, he doubted she’d slept much last night. The violet half-moons beneath her eyes indicated that she hadn’t slept well for quite some time.

On impulse, he said, “Want to get some air?”

She looked at him quizzically.

“Outside. Fresh air. Let’s go for a walk.”

She went to the window, moved aside the curtain, and looked up at the sky. “It’s overcast.”

“It’s hazy.”

“It’s muggy.”

“The climate is worse in here.”

He took her arm and propelled her out the back door, giving her little choice. Once on the sidewalk, they fell into step companionably. She even took a deep breath of contentment.

“See?” he said. “We needed to get out of there for a while. It was getting intense.”

“We rub each other the wrong way.”

Looking at her askance, he said, “We could rub each other till we get it right.” He watched for her blush and wasn’t disappointed. She’d needed that extra color in her cheeks. It flattered her. “I’ll let you go first,” he offered teasingly. “Unless you want me to. Which I’m happy to do.”

She rolled her eyes. “There’s a park a few blocks up.”

Five minutes later, they were seated in side-by-side swings with old-fashioned wood plank seats and heavy suspension chains. They were the only people near the swings. Some distance away, a middle-aged couple played catch with their young grandson. “Throw the ball to Paw-Paw,” he heard the woman say.

Farther away still, a quartet of teenaged girls in skimpy shorts and tank tops practiced cheerleading. Nearest him and Bellamy a pair of lovers lay on a blanket beneath a shade tree, lost in each other.

Dent moved his swing sideways to bump lightly into hers. “I’ve talked you through my experiences of that day and what came after. But you stopped at the point where Susan returned to the pavilion from the boathouse and started dirty dancing with Allen Strickland.”

She gave her swing a push. “What do you want to know?”

“Did you actuall

y see Susan leave the pavilion with him?”

“Yes.”

“Did you follow them?”

“No.”

“Okay…” He drew out the word in the form of a lead-in.

She continued swinging, going a little higher on each arc. “Okay, what?”

“What did you do?”

She started to speak several times before words actually formed. “I headed for the boathouse.”

“Why the boathouse?”