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“Because they’re trash,” Beam replied. “Put them in the trash where they belong. Whatever’s going on, Carter, you’re not the crazy one, and neither am I. Men like us know the truth. It’s the world that’s crazy. We’re the only ones who are sane.” He took a step toward the doors of the police station, then turned back. “Don’t let anyone tell you different,” he said to Eddie. “Not doctors, not Quentin, not anyone. The things we’ve seen mean the world is crazy. Not us.”
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
Back at Rose’s, I pulled my small suitcase from the corner of the bedroom and opened it. I picked up clothes and started folding and packing them.
Outside in the kitchen, I could hear Eddie and Rose. Eddie was trying to pay Rose for our stay; Rose was arguing that we could mail her a check when we got home, after we “got our feet under us” as she put it. As I folded one of my bras and tucked it into the suitcase, I had no illusions—if it had been me negotiating our bill instead of Eddie, she would have given me one of her looks and demanded her money. I could at least give Rose credit for having good taste in men.
Their conversation continued, never quite blowing over into an argument. Eddie reluctantly gave in to the check-mailing solution, but he insisted on hauling the last of the debris from Rose’s backyard before we left.
We had no choice but to leave. Detective Quentin had shut us out, and we couldn’t afford to stay in Coldlake Falls forever, looking for answers. We had Shannon Haller’s name and the photo of her with Eddie. We knew who his mother was now, who his grandfather was. We didn’t have justice, but we were just two people with no connections and almost no money. I might not have my job at the bowling alley anymore, and we couldn’t afford for Eddie to lose his job, too.
Stories don’t always end the way they’re supposed to. They don’t always end at all.
I snapped my suitcase shut and walked out of the bedroom to see Rose folding her grocery store apron into her bag. “I’m going to work. I guess I’ll see you,” she said, not making eye contact and pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose.
“Bye, Rose,” I said. “Thank you.”
She gave me a narrow-eyed look and made a disapproving sound in her throat. Then she left, and Eddie and I were alone.
I crossed my arms and leaned against the bedroom doorframe, looking at my husband. He was wearing the only pair of clean jeans he had left on this trip, and a gray tee with a brown plaid flannel shirt unbuttoned over it. He’d brought the shirt, I knew, in case the nights on our honeymoon got cool. His short hair was tousled and he had two days’ scruff on his jaw. He looked exhausted, and the whole effect should have looked disreputable, but somehow Eddie never truly looked disreputable. Even in the depths of chaos, while his life was falling apart, he looked like a man who would hold the door for you and ask if you were okay. It was just how he was.
He was looking at me, too, and I wondered what he saw. I wasn’t that girl in the blue bra anymore, drifting aimlessly through life. I wasn’t even the same April who had gotten married in a secondhand dress. I wasn’t sure what I was anymore. What I was going to be.
“I’m sorry my mother stole all of my money,” I said.
“I wouldn’t have wanted it anyway,” he replied.
Of course he wouldn’t. “It was a lot of money.”
“Too bad.”
I cleared my throat. I’d never told him I was sorry—I had never said the words. There was only one person that I was capable of apologizing to, and he was standing in front of me. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about my mother. It was the wrong thing to do. I should have told you.”
“Well.” He scratched his jaw, his gaze wandering up to the ceiling. “Considering I broke into my grandfather’s house and my grandfather murdered my mother, I guess I’ve dragged you into a few problems of my own.”
His tone was so casual I had to bite my lips to keep in a laugh.
“April, don’t laugh.”
“It’s uncomfortable laughter. Like at a funeral.”
“I know, but still.”
I put a hand over my mouth, trying to keep the amusement in. The urge was uncontrolled, and I felt my stomach squeeze. I lifted my hand long enough to wheeze, “Eddie, don’t ever take me to a funeral. I mean it.”
“April, this is very serious.”
Those words made me want to laugh even more, and my eyes watered. I kept my hand over my mouth. Eddie didn’t crack a smile, but I caught the ghost of a twinkle in his eyes as he turned away.
“I’m going to the backyard,” he said. “We’ll leave in twenty minutes.”
I nodded mutely, still trying not to giggle. I took a deep breath and turned back toward the bedroom. That was when I saw the man.
He was fiftyish, stocky. He wore a red plaid shirt tucked neatly into a pair of light-blue jeans. I could see him so clearly that I could make out the gray at his temples and the wrinkles in the dark skin at the corners of his eyes. He was standing by the bedroom window. A breeze blew outside, and I watched the leaves on the tree outside the window move behind him, as if the man was made from transparent film.
His mouth moved, mute. Then I heard it.
“Get down,” the man said.
