S is for Silence (Kinsey Millhone 19)

“You can’t even claim it was him. All you can say is there was a guy out there working on a bulldozer. “The detective’s name is Nichols. He needs to know.”

By the time I got back to the emergency room, Foley had been released. He emerged from the examining area, clutching a head trauma precaution sheet and the pain pills he’d been given to take home with him. His eyes were already looking bruised, and I imagined that by the next day, the purple would be intense. He had a splint taped over the bridge of his nose, and it made his eyes seem as close together as a collie’s. Both nostrils had been packed with half-inch-wide strips of white cloth, and I could see sutures across his chin. I had to guess there were others on the inside of his mouth. Luckily for him, the pain medication was wiping out the ill effects of his drinking binge. He looked subdued. His eyes were fixed on Daisy’s with the mute, pleading look a puppy lays on you when there are table scraps at stake.

Daisy drove him into Cromwell, me trailing along behind in his truck as I had before. When she pulled into the driveway of the parish house, the porch light came on. The pastor pushed a curtain aside and peered out, then opened the front door in his slippers, pajamas, and a soft flannel robe. I parked in front, locked the truck, and crossed to Daisy’s car, where I handed Foley his keys. He wouldn’t meet my eyes and I could feel the embarrassment rolling off him like sweat. The pastor held open the screen door and Foley disappeared inside. Daisy had a few words with the man and then returned to her car.

We got in. For a moment, she sat staring through the windshield, her hands on the steering wheel.

“You okay?”

“I’ll tell you what’s weird. You know when you see a movie they have those previews of coming attractions? This feels like a preview of past attractions. I don’t remember seeing my father drunk, but this has to be what he was like when he was married to my mom. Not nice.”

“Yeah, and I’ll bet he looks about like she did when he beat the hell out of her.”

She turned the key in the ignition. “At least now you know why I’m so screwed up.”

“You know something, Daisy? You’re not that screwed up. I’ve seen a lot worse.”

“Oh, thanks. I feel much better now that you’ve said that.”

We drove to Santa Maria in silence. The two-lane road was deserted at that hour, dark agricultural land stretching out on both sides as far as the eye could see. We passed a corrugated metal building sitting in a sea of asphalt and surrounded by chain-link fencing. The area was awash in a cold, silver light, but there was no sign of life. To the west, concealing the sight of the ocean beyond, a swell of low-lying hills formed a scalloped silhouette against the night sky. Daisy checked her rearview mirror as a set of headlights popped into view. I glanced over my shoulder, expecting the car to speed up and pass. Daisy was cruising at a sedate sixty miles an hour, but drivers on country roads get impatient.

The car behind us maintained the same distance for a mile and then began closing the gap. Daisy flicked another look in the mirror. “Shit. I recognize the Mercedes. That’s Jake.”

“How’d he know where we were? You think he was waiting in the ER parking lot?”

“I didn’t see him if he was.”

We reached Santa Maria and turned down Daisy’s street with Jake right behind us. He wasn’t doing anything threatening and he made no attempt to conceal himself, but in the wake of the violence, I wasn’t crazy about seeing him again. BW might have delivered the kick, but Jake had been the catalyst. Daisy pulled into her driveway and doused her headlights. I checked the house. An overhead fixture burned in the kitchen, but the living room and guest room at the front of the house were both dark. Jake eased in behind us and doused his headlights. He killed the engine, as Daisy had, and then he got out and approached us along the drive.

“You think we ought to get out?” she asked.

I put a hand on the door handle. “Let’s. I don’t like the idea of his towering over us.”

She got out on her side and I got out on mine, moving around the front of the car so we were side by side. It was dark and the night was chilly as anticipated, which made me happy I’d accepted the offer of a jacket. I crossed my arms, not feeling the cold so much as residual tension. The neighboring houses were locked and barred for the night. I wasn’t uneasy about Jake, but it did occur to me that if either of us screamed, no one would hear us and respond.

Daisy said, “Hey, Jake. What can I do for you?”

“Sorry to bother you. I stopped by to ask about your dad. Is he all right?”