A Good Killing (25 page)

“That’s kind of what Jody’s house smelled like.”

He closed the grill and ordered two large pizzas from the one Little Caesars brave enough to operate nearby. Anna took her turn showering while he went to pick it up. Standing in the claw-foot tub with the water washing over her back, Anna smelled the smoke leaching from her skin and hair. She had to shampoo three times before it was gone.

They ate pepperoni pizza, slick and delicious with grease. Anna and Jody ate a large pie between the two of them. They hadn’t eaten anything else the whole day and were ravenous. When the pizza was gone, Cooper took out Häagen-Dazs vanilla ice cream and served it with pitted black cherries on top. Anna felt her shoulders unclenching for the first time that day. Now that no one’s life or home was in immediate danger, she became aware of the more mundane challenges facing them.

“Jody, we have to find you a place to rent,” Anna said.

“You guys should stay here,” Cooper said. “Through the trial. I love having you here. Sparky does too.” The dog grinned at the mention of his name.

Anna was touched. She liked being here. She felt safe with Cooper in the same room. But an extended stay was too much to ask of him.

“Coop, that’s so nice of you. But we can’t impose on you like that.”

“You’re great houseguests. Totally brighten up the place.”

“We leave long blond hairs in your shower drains,” Jody said.

“Makes me look far cooler than I actually am.”

“Seriously,” Anna said. “It’s too dangerous. Half of Michigan wants to lynch us.”

“Which is exactly why you should stay here.” His voice grew fierce. He patted his waist, where his gun was holstered. “I know my way around a battlefield, which seems to be what you’ve gotten yourself into. I know Michigan. I can protect you. Unlikely as this sounds, my house is one of the safest places for you to be right now.”

Jody said, “You know things are really bad when Detroit is your safe haven.”

Anna met his eyes. His offer was sincere. She was humbled by his generosity—and still uncertain she could accept it.

“Will insurance pay for you to live somewhere else while the house is rebuilt?” Anna asked.

“I have no idea. The thought of dealing with that is exhausting,” Jody said. “But if they’ll pay rent, let’s just ‘rent’ from Cooper. Give the poor man some compensation for all his trouble. I want to stay here, Annie. It’s far away from everyone who’s trying to hurt me. And no one’s getting past these two.”

Jody gestured to Cooper and his dog. Anna took a deep breath. She felt so jittery. She realized she wanted to stay with Cooper but was scared to, at the same time. For a number of reasons.

She looked at her sister, who was scooping the last bit of ice
cream from her bowl and looking calmer than she had all day. Anna would do what made Jody comfortable. She was already worried about the effect that stress might be having on the baby growing inside her sister’s belly.

“Okay,” she said. “Thank you, Coop.”

“Attagirl.”

After dinner, Anna asked Jody if she wanted to go over her insurance policy, but Jody shook her head. “Tomorrow. I need to think about anything but my own life right now.” They moved to the living room and turned on the TV. Jody curled up in an easy chair, scrolled to HBO GO, and clicked on
True Detective
.

“Do you mind?” Cooper asked Anna, gesturing to his leg.

Anna shook her head, though she had no idea what he meant. He rolled up his jeans, unstrapped his metal prosthetic, and took it off his leg. He set the whole contraption to the side of the couch, then peeled a silicone cup from his limb and set it down too. For the first time, she saw where his own leg ended: just below his knee. The skin simply folded into a round nub with a seamlike scar at the end. He pulled the jeans down again quickly.

“It aches sometimes when I’ve been standing on it a long time,” he said. “Sorry if that grossed you out.”

“It didn’t,” Anna said. In fact, it made her want to put her arms around him.

They watched
True Detective
until a particularly gory murder scene made Jody blanch, and then Cooper picked up the remote and steered them through the cable channels. When they got to the news, Jody cried, “Stop! Go back.”

He flipped back to CNN. The station was playing a video of Jody’s house on fire. It cut to neighbors looking horrified, and then to Anna holding Jody while she sobbed on the ground. “It’s everything I have,” Jody sobbed on-screen. “Everything I’ve worked for.” Seeing it from this angle, they looked very small and alone, huddled together on the lawn, just two young women with nothing else in the world. Anna bristled at first, thinking:
We are strong!
Then she accepted it. It was fine publicity, certainly sympathetic.
Jody was going to need all the sympathy she could use in the coming months.

“You’ve gone national,” Cooper said.

Jody on the TV cried and keened. Jody on the couch said, “Oh, man. Have I really gotten that fat? I thought the camera was only supposed to add ten pounds.”

Anna said, “You are three months pregnant. And you look as pretty as a woman can look while her house is burning behind her.”

The picture went to Jake Tapper sitting at his glossy silver CNN desk. He spoke with an earnest gravitas that made the whole situation seem very dire. “What started as a murder trial in Holly Grove, Michigan, has turned into something much more complicated. The accused murderer is twenty-five-year-old Jody Curtis.” They flashed a picture of Jody from the high school yearbook, looking younger, blonder, and far more innocent than she did today. “She is accused of killing her married lover, Owen Fowler, a high school football coach who led his team to several state championships. The coach was a local hero in his native Michigan. At least until yesterday.

“Yesterday, the victim’s sister, who is also her lawyer, made a shocking accusation.”

The video flashed to a clip of Anna on the Holly Grove courthouse steps, saying the coach was a serial pedophile and asking other victims to come forward. Just watching it sent a shot of adrenaline through her gut.

Tapper continued. “Sources within the Holly Grove Police Department, who wish to remain anonymous because they aren’t authorized to speak about the matter, have confirmed that, between 1999 and 2014, six teenage girls reported that Coach Fowler sexually assaulted them. And, as the defense attorney alleged, the sex kits in those cases were never tested.

“The DA’s office released a statement this afternoon saying the old rape kits will not be tested, as these cases became moot when Owen Fowler died.

“So far, no one has come forward as a victim. Instead, the town has rallied to the defense of its murdered hero.”

The camera cut to an elderly woman standing in front of a 7-Eleven. “What that girl did was despicable. First, she kills her married lover, then she smears his name. I feel so bad for the family. A little girl lost her father and now she has to hear this garbage.”

Tapper said, “For others, the reaction was even stronger.” They showed Jody’s house covered in graffiti, with Anna and Jody trying to scrub the words from the siding. A neighbor must have taken the photo this morning. Some of the words were too nasty for prime time and had been blurred out. “This morning, Curtis’s house was covered in graffiti. And this afternoon, it burned down.” The dancing orange flames made for dramatic TV footage. “The Holly Grove fire marshal says it was likely an electrical fire, but the string of incidents has raised eyebrows. And the vigilante group Anonymous has now gotten involved.”

“They have?” Anna murmured.

Tapper continued, “Anonymous is the hacking collective known for, among other things, breaking into computer systems and publicizing their contents. They broke some key evidence in the Steubenville rape case and have protested during several of the most notorious rape cases over the past few years. The trial of Jody Curtis is scheduled for next February.”

The screen showed a YouTube video dated this afternoon. Someone in a white plastic Guy Fawkes mask looked at the camera. The mask had arched black eyebrows, a soul patch on a pointy chin, and a sardonic grin. The wall behind him was black. When he spoke, his voice was deep and electronically twisted. He sounded like an evil robot.

“We are Anonymous. We are legion. We do not forgive. We do not forget. We expose hypocrisy and abuse. Holly Grove, Michigan: expect us.”

41

T
hat night, Anna couldn’t sleep. Every random noise she heard could be someone coming to burn down Cooper’s house. It could be an Anonymous protester coming to hack her computer and leave a white mask next to her pillow. It could be— She sat up in bed, forcing her imagination to stop before it really got on a roll. Jody lay next to her, snoring softly. Anna pulled the covers up to her sister’s shoulder and kissed her forehead. She tiptoed down the steps, picturing a hot cup of tea and a good book to distract her. She kept a hand on the wall to make sure she didn’t fall off the banister-less staircase in the dark. At the bottom, she fumbled around trying to find the light switch.

“Hey,” a low voice whispered.

She jumped and let out a small shriek. Then she saw it was Cooper. He was sitting in the den, on a couch beneath a bay window that looked out onto his front yard. She put her hand to her chest, took a deep breath, and sat next to him. Sparky lay on the ground by his feet. The dog licked her ankle in greeting.

“Wow, I’m on edge,” she said. “I don’t usually shriek at scary stuff. And you’re the least scary thing in Detroit.”

“I’ll have you know I’m extremely scary. Kids dress up like me for Halloween.”

A breeze ruffled Cooper’s dark hair. She saw that the window was open. There was no screen, but metal bars covered it. Something long and thin stood on the floor, propped against the sill. The window faced the empty street, where the single working streetlight provided the only illumination.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“Sometimes Sparky and I just like to sit here and watch what’s happening outside.”

“You’re keeping guard, aren’t you?”

“Old habits die hard.”

Anna heard a train passing, far away.

He said, “You had a tough day. You should get some sleep.”

“I know. I can’t.”

“Yeah, I get that sometimes. The silver lining is you can get a lot done at one
A.M.
There’s not much to interrupt you.”

“Your glass is always half full. How are you so cheerful?” Anna said. She looked at his leg. “After—everything?”

He shrugged. “Happiness comes from inside you, not what happens to you. I read about this study: They looked at people who won the lottery and people who became paraplegic. For a while, the lottery winners were very happy, and the paraplegics were very depressed. But after a few months, they all returned to around whatever level of happiness they were at before. It’s an internal thing. Being satisfied with how you’re living your life. The connections you have to the people you care about.”

“Still, I’d rather win the lottery.”

He laughed. “I live in a mansion with two beautiful women sleeping in my bed. That’s better than the lottery.”

“You’re a good sport, Coop.”

From outside the window came the sound of whispering voices. Cooper turned and looked out. Sparky sat up and looked worriedly at him. Anna moved closer to Cooper and peered out the window with him.

Four figures in black ski masks and dark clothes came down the street. Their feet crunched on the gravel. They all held something small and metal in their hands. They turned up the driveway and silently advanced on the house.

Cooper lifted the long weapon from the sill and pointed it out the window, between the metal bars. As they came close to the porch, he closed one eye and aimed at the figures. He looked like an army sniper.

“You can’t just shoot them,” Anna whispered.

“This is Detroit,” he said. “The rules are different.”

His hands shifted and the weapon exploded. The first dark figure fell down with a shriek. The other three froze. Cooper aimed at them. Anna put a hand on his shoulder to pull him back but then saw that the instrument in his hands wasn’t a rifle, but some sort of high-powered hose. A blast of water shot from it. He pointed it from one figure to the next, knocking them down with the force of the spray. All four fell to the ground. When the first one tried to get up, Cooper turned the hose and blasted him down again.

Then he strode to the front door and out to the lawn. Sparky ran next to him. Anna followed as far as the front porch. Cooper went up to the first intruder, grabbed the black ski mask, and pulled it off. Beneath was a mop of highlighted hair and pouty pink lips. He pulled off all four of the masks. Each person beneath was a pretty, soaking-wet teenage girl. They sat up and coughed up the water they’d inhaled. They held cans of spray paint. He took the cans.

Anna came down the steps. “Are you the ones who messed up Jody’s house?”

The pink-lipped girl looked up at her with hate. “No. But you guys deserved it.”

“This woman”—Cooper pointed at Anna—“is standing up for girls like you.”

“She and her trashy sister are ruining our town.”

“You need to spend more time finding the truth than trying to slut-shame the people who are brave enough to put it out there. But let me put it in simpler terms. You don’t want to fuck with me.”

De’Andre and Lamar stepped out from the backyard. De’Andre held a hoe, and Lamar held a shovel. De’Andre grinned, showing off his grille. “Yeah, the farmer’s one crazy dude. War messed up his head. He could explode, any minute.”

“Get out of here,” Cooper said, “and tell your friends that the next person who steps foot on my property isn’t going to step back off again.”

The girls looked between Cooper, his giant dog, and his armed farmhands. They ran, tripping over themselves and the gravel, disappearing into the black.

Cooper turned to De’Andre and Lamar. “Thanks.”

“This is, like, the best class I’ve ever taken. Do we get extra credit for this?”