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NOLA KNOX
Thursday, June 18, 2020
Nola parked her truck on Juniper, waiting for just the right time to make her move. It was still dark, that shadowy space between night and morning. Except for the bakery, the stores along the street were not due to open for a few hours. Nola wasn’t worried about being seen. In fact, it was important that she was. She needed a reason to be on this street at this time of morning.
She stopped in the bakery and examined the case filled with frosted and filled donuts and pastries. She wanted the chocolate one with sprinkles but that could be too messy for the job she needed to do so she settled on the plain cake donut. She pulled it from the paper bag and took a bite.
Nola was a bit surprised by Maggie’s reaction to her bombshell about what she’d witnessed at the caves. Nola thought it would take more convincing to get Maggie on board with the plan to bring Nick Brady down. Sure, Nola could go to the police and tell them what she had seen and heard that afternoon at the caves, but Maggie was right, it would be a hard sell.
Maggie was a well-respected cop and the daughter of the beloved former police chief. She was married to a hometown boy who sold Christmas trees for God’s sake. And there was the meager little detail that Nola hadn’t said anything about what she saw and heard at the caves for twenty-five years.
But Maggie, it seemed, after a brief hesitation, was all in with framing Nick for Eve’s death. Maybe the two of them were more alike than she thought. Maggie could see what a scumbag Nick was then and probably still was. People don’t change. That’s one thing Nola had learned over the years. Once a predator, always a predator. Why should Nick have gotten away with treating girls the way he did? Though Eve never admitted it to her, Nola knew that Nick hurt her. She saw the bruises.
Then there was the day in the girls’ locker room. She would never forget the feel of Nick’s hands on her head as he forced her downward, never forget the hyena-like laughter of his friend. They had touched her in places and tried to make her do things that still made her face hot with shame. But why should she be embarrassed? She hadn’t done anything but try to gather her dead sister’s things.
Nola remembered the power she felt when she shoved Nick into the trophy case, the crack of the glass as it shattered into a million pieces. She didn’t even care that Nick had dragged her down with him. She welcomed the bite of pain as the jagged shards penetrated her chest. But even as she was being stitched up in the hospital she knew that no one would believe her side of the story, so she took the punishment. She endured the psychological evaluations and the expulsion and the counseling sessions. She told them what they wanted to hear eventually, murmured an apology and waited. Waited for the right time to strike back. And now was the time.
Half-hidden in the early morning shadows, Nick Brady approached the door to Grotto Gifts & Things and pulled out a set of keys. He fumbled and dropped them to the sidewalk, bending over to retrieve them. With effort, Nick picked up the keys unaware that someone was watching. Nola pulled the long, narrow plastic case from the glove box then reached for her phone and punched in three numbers. She could use a little chaos in order to get what she needed. What better way than to get the Grotto PD on the scene?
“Yes,” she cried, her voice shrill and panicked. “Someone is breaking into Grotto Gifts on Juniper. I think he’s armed. Please hurry.” Nola disconnected and watched while Nick finished unlocking the door and went inside. She waited for the cavalry to arrive.
She took the gold-plated lancing pen out of its plastic case, inserted the disposable needle into the pen cartridge, twisted the protective cap and rotated the pen until the lancer was screwed in. There, Nola thought. Who knew that blood collection tools came in pen form—for discreet blood testing, the description said. It was just what she needed. It was amazing what you could purchase at the local pharmacy. She held the pen tightly in her fist. Nola had two goals: to collect a sample of Nick’s blood without being detected and to not get arrested while doing so.
It didn’t take long. Two minutes at the most when a Grotto PD police car appeared and came to a slanted stop in front of the shop. Two officers hurried from the car. Nola was a little disappointed to see that their weapons remained holstered.
Curious, Nick returned to the entrance to see what was going on. After a short conversation with the officers, Nola stepped from her truck and started walking their way. Nick looked toward the street and his eyes narrowed in understanding. He gestured toward Nola and the two officers turned.
“I’m the one who made the call,” Nola said apologetically. “I thought I saw a man trying to force the door open.”
“He’s the owner of the shop, ma’am,” the officer explained. “There’s no break-in.”
“You knew damn well it was me,” Nick said. Circles of sweat darkened the armpits of his shirt and he mopped his forehead with the back of one hand. Beneath the streetlight the raised, puckered scars on his arm glared white against his ruddy skin.
“I didn’t,” Nola said, contrite. She turned to the officers. “My apologies. I didn’t mean to waste your time. I had no idea it was Nick.”
“Bullshit,” Nick said. “She’s crazy. She thinks...” Nick finally noticed the small crowd of curious onlookers that had gathered outside the bakery across the street and paused to watch.
“I think what?” Nola asked. “That you killed my sister,” she finished for him. “That you beat her up and strangled her because she broke up with you?”
“Jesus, Nola. Can’t you get it through your head? I’m sorry about what happened to Eve. But. I. Didn’t. Kill. Her,” Nick said with disgust. “I loved her.”
This was it. This was the time. Nola leaned into the arc of his waving finger and it grazed her cheek. “Hey,” she exclaimed. “Don’t you fucking touch me.” She swatted away his hand with one hand and with the other, keeping the pen concealed beneath her sleeve, shoved the tip of the pen into his forearm.
“Ouch, dammit, you scratched me, you bitch,” Nick said, instinctively grabbing onto Nola’s arm. The momentum caused them both to lose their balance and Nola fell forward, striking Nick’s face with the crown of her head.
Blood exploded from his nose. “Jesus Christ,” he cried, pressing his fingers to his face.
“He touched me first,” Nola insisted, dropping the pen into the deep pocket of her cardigan before anyone noticed it. “You saw it,” she said to the police officers who were trying to step between the two. Blood coursed down Nick’s face and dripped to the sidewalk. “He grabbed my arm and I fell into him.”
“Whoa now, everyone settle down,” the younger of the two officers said.
“Mr. Brady, let’s get you inside and cleaned up and we can talk about it.”
“I don’t want her anywhere near my shop,” Nick snapped. He turned to Nola, blood still streaming down his face. He pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to stanch the bleeding. “Go ahead and press charges and I’ll go after you for calling in a fake emergency.”
Nola turned on Nick. “She didn’t love you back, Nick. She finally figured out what an ass you were.” Nola kept her voice low, measured. “And you couldn’t stand it.”
“She’s crazy. Make her stay away from me,” Nick said and retreated into the store, letting the door shut with a glass-quivering slam.
