The Good Neighbor (18 page)

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

“Where’s Uncle Johnny?” Mia said as she skipped into the cottage, holding Princess Barbie. She wore a new pair of sparkling princess shoes. The afternoon hung gray and humid, the sky brooding, warning of a coming storm.

“He’s away,” I said. “He’s in Seattle.”

“See-at-ul,” Mia said, jumping up and down in the foyer. “When is he coming back?”

“Late.” But he was coming. He was to move back in that evening. I’d been a mess of anticipation, unable to concentrate.

On the drive back from the hospital, where I’d left Harriet, I’d stolen glances at Mia, trying to detect any resemblance to Johnny. What about Mia’s double-jointed thumbs, the way she stuck out her tongue? Could any of these traits come from him?

No, I’d concluded, as I’d hauled Mia’s heavy overnight bag into the cottage. Her chin had a slight cleft, exactly like Chad’s.

“I want Uncle Johnny to read to me,” Mia insisted, stamping her foot on the floor. “
Goodnight Moon
.”

“You
are
a little princess, aren’t you?”

“Uncle Johnny.” Mia pouted halfheartedly, pulling a new set of Dr. Seuss books from the bag. No wonder the darned thing was so heavy.

“He’s teaching a class at the university. He might be late.” He’d been invited to give a guest lecture on general pediatric dermatology. I’d barely had a chance to talk to him in the past week, except to tell him I was ready to sit down with him, to discuss the future. His voice had become buoyant and hopeful.
As soon as I get back,
he’d said.

Tonight, tonight, tonight . . .
Wasn’t that a song?

I missed the sound of his voice, the way he left newspapers strewn on the table, crumbs under his chair. His special interest in cooking Indian food. The way he often read aloud to me before bed. The way he took his time touching me, as if he had nowhere else to go and nothing else to do for the rest of his life. The cottage felt strangely large and empty without him.

The Minkowskis were gone, their house locked up, the blinds drawn. They had flown to Florida, as Kadin’s father had suddenly passed away. The painting of Miracle Mouse remained in Theresa’s studio, waiting for her to finish the restoration. Eris was home but often out at meetings or making lucrative real estate deals.

Mia’s nonstop chatter offered a pleasant distraction. She never tired of finding new ways to play. She helped me bake an elaborate cake, creating a mess of flour all over the kitchen.

Finally, she collapsed on the cot for her afternoon nap. Her chest rose and fell in an easy rhythm, her face peaceful. In the soft lamplight, she resembled a young Monique. Apparently, she’d begun to act out, to remember her fear during the fire. She woke crying in the night. But I had not seen any evidence of her sadness since she had arrived at the cottage.

I sat on the couch to write on my laptop, grateful for Mia’s company. Her grandmother probably appreciated having her around, too. Harriet had appeared frailer than usual that morning. She’d mentioned her sister in Vermont.
She’ll fly in if I need her.
Didn’t Harriet need her now?

She was alone at the hospital. Mia and I had stayed there awhile, but Mia had grown restless, so I’d brought her home. We would go back to see Harriet later. I’d left my number with the nurse.

Mia had been napping for barely fifteen minutes when my cell phone lit up. My heart leaped.
Johnny.
Maybe he’d finished his lecture early. But it wasn’t him. It was Jessie.

“Can you come and get me?” Her voice was high-pitched and tearful.

I replied in a low voice. “Mia’s asleep. What’s wrong? Are you with Adrian?”

“No. I’m walking to your house. Can you pick me up?”

“Walking to my house from where?”

“I’m on Cedar Drive but I have, like, two more miles to go, and it’s raining.”

“I can’t leave Mia alone. Can you call your parents? What’s going on?”

“Sarah, please. I can’t call them.” Jessie broke into hiccupping sobs.

“Are you okay? Do you need to hang up and call 911?”

“No, I—I need you.”

“Can you take a cab home?”

“I took a cab here, but I ran out of money.”

“Keep walking on Cedar. I’ll find you.”

I called Eris to come and watch Mia, and a few minutes later, Eris showed up at the door in jeans and a rain jacket, shaking her umbrella. She took off muddy boots. “Where’s the kid?” she whispered. She looked pale, dark circles under her eyes.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

“Fine.” But she didn’t look fine. Perhaps she’d fought with her boyfriend. He hadn’t come around in a few days.

“She’s in the bedroom.” I showed her Mia asleep on the cot. “I’ll be right back.”

“I’ll take good care of her,” Eris said.

“Thank you for watching her.” I grabbed my keys and purse. “I don’t know what happened to Jessie, but it sounds bad.”

“Did you call her parents?” Eris whispered back.

“I left a message for her mother.”

“Go on then, hurry.” Eris waved me away.

I drove slowly along Cedar Drive, scanning the sidewalks through sheets of rain. Finally, I spotted a hunched figure. I pulled over and opened the passenger side door. Jessie got in, a waterlogged waif in a hoodie, soaked to the skin. Her hands trembled as she dropped her wet backpack on the seat. I reached over her and shut the door. She smelled of clove cigarettes and wet wool.

“Put on your seat belt,” I said.

Jessie clipped on her seat belt with shaking fingers.

I pulled back into the road, made a U-turn.

Jessie looked at me from beneath her hoodie, her face shadowed. “Where are we going?”

“I’m taking you home.”

“I thought we were going to your house.”

“We can’t go to my house. You need to talk to your parents.”

“But I can’t.” She covered her face with her hands, her shoulders shaking.

“Why not?”

“This is why not.” She pulled off her hoodie, revealing her face, the black bruise on her cheek, her swollen eye, her split and bloody lip.

I gasped and nearly swerved into the ditch. “I’ll kill that asshole.”

Jessie said nothing, her lips trembling.

“I’m taking you to the hospital,” I said.

“No, Sarah, please.”

“Don’t argue with me.”

“My parents will find out.”

“We’ll make it through this, okay?” I headed straight for Cove Hospital, my fingers gripping the steering wheel. I resisted cursing aloud. “You need to press charges.”

Jessie wiped her nose with the palm of her hand. “I hate myself.”

“Don’t say that. Don’t you ever say that.”

“I’m so stupid.”

“You are not stupid. Where is he? You need to call the police.”

“I don’t want to. I don’t know how he knew.”

“About what?”

“Chad. Someone told him.”

“Oh, Jessie. How could anyone else know? Maybe he guessed.”

“I don’t want to go to the hospital.”

“You need stitches.” I pulled into the parking lot at Cove Hospital. “Come on. Let’s go in.”

I got out, dialing Pedra as rain pelted my skin. I led Jessie inside the hospital, into the emergency room. “
Díos mio
,” Pedra said into the phone. “I’ll be right there.”

Next, I called Eris. She gasped, cursed under her breath. “You’re kidding. Keep me posted.”

Ten minutes later, Pedra rushed into the waiting room, Don in tow. They were both white-faced. “Jessie, what happened?” Pedra took Jessie’s face in her hands.

Tears spilled down Jessie’s cheeks.

I pulled Don aside. “I have to go. I’m babysitting Mia. I left her with a neighbor.”

He nodded, his eyes bewildered and angry. I worried about what he might say to Jessie, whether he would blame her. But I had to get back. I hugged Jessie, squeezed her hand, then called Eris again on my way back to the car.

“Is Mia awake yet?”

“She got up. We’re playing.” Her voice sounded crackly and distant, as if she had turned on the speakerphone. “You’re on your way back?”

“I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

When I got back, the cottage was dark and quiet, save for the soft hum of the refrigerator and the fan of my laptop computer, which I’d left turned on in my hurry. No sign of Mia or Eris. Mia must’ve woken up. Eris must’ve taken her next door. I dialed Eris’s cell, but the call went straight to voice mail.

In the master bedroom, my journal sat on the bed. The journal in which I had meticulously documented everything that had happened after the fire, every thought and emotion. I didn’t remember leaving the journal on the bed, but I must have.

Still in my raincoat and boots, I rushed outside and took the wooded trail to Eris’s house. I knocked on the front door, but nobody answered.

I tried calling Eris’s cell phone again. Voice mail. Eris’s car still sat in the driveway—but the house was dark. I followed a worn path around to the back, peered in the windows. No sign of anyone. Nobody answered the side door to the kitchen. The door was unlocked, so I went inside. “Eris! Mia!” I called out. A plate sat on the counter, sprinkled with toast crumbs, next to a coffee cup and a teaspoon. In the dining room, the air smelled of orange polish.

“Eris! Mia!” No answer. Soft classical music drifted down from the second floor. “Eris! Mia!” Still no answer.

I followed the source of the music upstairs to Eris’s quiet room. A soft Brandenburg concerto played inside. I knocked, but nobody answered. I turned the knob, and to my surprise, the door opened easily. “You guys in here?” I called into the dimness. A single window cast diffuse light on a crumpled bedspread and outlined the shapes of a dresser, chair, and bookshelf. Maybe Eris had brought Mia in here to calm her down. But again, nobody answered.

The air hung heavy with incense and perfume. I flipped a switch on the wall next to the door, and a line of track lights flickered on overhead. I gasped and nearly stumbled backward. The concerto played on, an incongruous accompaniment to the unbelievable scene now in front of me. Nobody was in here, but Eris had turned the room into a shrine, a temple, but not in tribute to any god—in this room, Eris worshipped Johnny.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

I raced out of the room, the music receding behind me as I stumbled down the stairs, punched 911 into my cell phone, yelled that a deranged neighbor had kidnapped Mia Kimball and to come right away. I left a message for Johnny. “Hurry, come back. Eris is crazy. She has Mia. She’s taken her somewhere.” Next I left a message for Ryan Greene, and I ran outside into the wind, down the driveway to the street, screaming for Mia. Where could Eris have possibly taken her?