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I dressed in the work clothes that I’d packed when I left St. Louis. Heavy pants, a grey shirt. Work boots. I grabbed a coffee at the bakery next door but none of the food. It had been months since food looked good. These days I ate when I was hungry, which wasn’t often.
I drove toward the O’Neill house, but as I turned left onto the country road to the Manor, I could see a police cruiser. With its lights on.
Was Vanessa back?
The statute of limitations for the theft of the jewels was past, so no one was getting arrested for that except my father who’d been rotting in his jail cell for years. But were Savannah and Margot guilty of newer crimes?
My foot pressed on the accelerator, dust flying up behind me in the rearview mirror.
The duality of it was perfect, though I had to admit there was something in me that balked at the idea of Savannah’s cool beauty in a hot desperate cell like my father’s.
But if it was what she deserved, then so be it.
Do the crime, do the time, as my father always said when the guard led him away from the visiting room table.
I braked to a hard stop just behind the cruiser and threw myself out the door. No press. No throngs of cops. Just one cruiser with its lights going and the old house, looking sadder in the bright morning sunlight.
I found everyone in the living room where it was still cool and dark, the windows shadowed by the veranda out front. The cops I expected to see leading the women away sat in spindly Queen Anne chairs, dropping sugar from their beignets onto the faded upholstery.
Margot stood beside a frayed velveteen couch, her hand gripping Savannah’s shoulder.
Savannah sat holding a little girl as if her whole life depended on it, the child’s red head buried in Savannah’s neck.
I rocked to a stop in the doorway.
A little girl?
How had I missed that in my research? Why hadn’t Savannah told me when I asked who else lived in the house?
It shouldn’t change anything, but it did.
Seeing Savannah with a little girl clinging to her neck as if any moment she might be torn away opened up a giant hole in my chest.
I remembered holding on to my father’s neck the same way. And suddenly I didn’t want to witness Savannah being led away in chains, not if it meant the girl had to witness it, too.
“I don’t think it was high-schoolers,” Savannah said, staring daggers at the two cops with poor eating habits. “They’ve never tried to break into the house before.”
“Well,” one of the cops said, readjusting his girth in the small chair. “It was only a matter of time before some kid got bold enough to try it.”
“I’m sure it’s another prank,” the thin cop said.
“A prank!” Savannah nearly yelled. “You guys have looked the other way for years, and we’ve accepted that as part of the price of living here and being an O’Neill. But someone tried to break into my daughter’s room. It’s the hardest room to get to from the outside and it’s not even accessible from the back courtyard.”
The rage and fear in Savannah’s eyes were hot enough to bend steel.
“We’ve dusted for prints and we’ll see what it turns up,” Thin Cop said.
“And then?” Savannah asked, practically spitting fire. And I got it, these men were not taking her seriously; their disdain was practically written on the walls. Suddenly, Margot’s comment about the O’Neills being a target around here took on painful ramifications.
“And then, if possible, we’ll make some arrests,” Thin Cop said.
“And what will you be doing in the meantime? To help protect us as citizens of Bonne Terre? Which, I can’t believe I need to remind you, is your job.”
“Look, if you want a man out front, you’re going to have to take that up with Chief Tremblant—”
“Which I will,” Savannah said, standing with the little girl clinging to her like a monkey. “Now, I’d—”
“We’d like to thank you gentlemen for your hard work.” Margot stepped in, like a gracious host or a bomb expert.
“You know,” Fat Cop said, his beady eyes glued to Savannah as if she were the one guilty of breaking into her daughter’s room, “word in town is you’ve hired some stranger to do work around here.”
I opened my mouth, but Savannah was there before me. “What are you getting at, Officer Jones?”
“If you don’t want trouble, don’t ask for it.” His tone oozed a sexual patronization that made me want to put my fist in the big man’s face. “Seems to me you O’Neills have had a hard time learning that lesson. Maybe that’s why we’re not bending over to make sure y’all are safe and sound. You could take better care your damn selves.”
