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Tean did another of those annoyed little wiggles, and Jem winced mentally, thinking about all the Corgi fur he was going to have to clean off the doc. Then Heather’s breath caught in her throat, and Jem refocused as she began to speak.
“I didn’t—I never told anybody about that.”
Jem shrugged. He went for half-embarrassed, a slumping, sloping smile. “It’s not me. It’s the energy.”
Tean coughed again.
“It was a decision,” Heather said. “It was…it was trouble, like you said. A snarl. So much of my life was tied up in it. And I was—I was so mad.”
“Money,” Jem said. “I’m sensing money very clearly now.”
Heather nodded, wiping her eyes. She was sick, Jem thought. And old. And tired. And in that moment, Jem felt sick and old and tired too. When he ran a game, he went for people who wouldn’t get hurt—not really, anyway, not unless they deserved it. This was different. And Tean was here. Seeing all of it. Worrying. Worrying about Jem, probably, which was worse than if he’d only been mad or judgmental or indignant.
“She came with cash in hand.” Heather stopped and cleared her throat. “Yesenia. She knew I needed the money. She came out here a few months ago to see the venue, and we met. I’d just been diagnosed. I was telling anybody who’d listen because I…” She gave a wet laugh, and it sounded more like paper being torn. “Because I didn’t know what else to do, I guess. And then, last week, she showed up again. The pain was so bad.” She stopped and shivered. “I barely had enough money to feed the dogs. There wasn’t anything left over. I haven’t worked in six months, unless you count twenty bucks here or there, a few of my friends who know I have the gift. I go to the emergency room if it’s bad enough, and they’ll give me something. But they send you a bill for that too. And then she was here, and she was offering cash. And the pain was so bad.”
“What did she want?” Tean asked.
“The land.” She raised the collar of her shirt and snuffled into it. “She said I could get a trailer somewhere. With the dogs. She said wouldn’t that be better than dying in here by inches?”
“You own more than the house?”
“A few hundred acres.” She waved a hand, repeating her gesture from the kitchen. “It used to be worth something. I sat on it, thinking it’d be worth more. Now nobody wants it; the boom is over.”
“But Yesenia wanted it,” Jem said.
“She’s building that new park. You know what happened? I asked her if I could work there. When I got better, of course. And she said sure, that’d be all right, they always need someone to clean out the enclosures. That was after I’d signed, when she knew she could be a bitch.”
“When she took your pills at the club,” Tean asked, “was that before or after you signed?”
“After, of course. By then, I had the earnest money. I won’t get the rest of it until the sale closes in thirty days, and that’s the problem, isn’t it? Because now I have to leave, and all that money’s tied up in the internet, I guess.” Heather was silent, shoulders drawing in. Her voice sounded tangled when she finally said, “She didn’t need me anymore. She laughed. Said she was doing me a favor, taking the pills, like I was some sort of addict. I wanted to do her a favor. I wanted to smash her head in.”
After the words, the only sound was the click of the Corgis’ nails as they moved out on the porch. There was hardly any light in the room, and Jem thought maybe he shouldn’t have turned them down so low. Tean’s knee bumped his, and Jem’s heart kicked into second gear.
“I didn’t do anything to her,” Heather said, her voice rough as she wiped her eyes again. “If that’s what you’re wondering. I busted up her car a little. Maybe more than a little.” She laughed. “I set the damn thing on fire. I went there the first time thinking maybe she left my medicine there. She didn’t, of course. Then I heard she disappeared, and Missy got arrested, and I kept thinking—I kept thinking she’s dead, and I was in her car. Fingerprints. And all that dog hair.” Her laugh sounded a little stronger this time. “I watch enoughForensic Files, you think I’d have the sense not to make things worse, but I kept thinking about that dog hair. They’d think it was me. And if they took me, there wouldn’t be anybody left to take care of the boys. I figured if I burned it...” She stopped there, the rest of the sentence unspoken, and shrugged.
Jem nodded slowly. Heather seemed smaller now, her hourglass body shrunken inside its old clothes. She was staring at the floor, her hands restless in her lap.
“I guess that’s why you came—”
“I have one more thing to say,” Jem said. He left the couch and moved to sit on the coffee table in front of her. He held out his hands. In that moment, he was grateful for the gloom, grateful that his back was to Tean, that he couldn’t see his face. After a moment, Heather took his hands. Her skin was crepey and soft, and Jem thought he smelled Jergens. He squeezed once, and Heather brought her gaze up to his. “I don’t know if you’re going to get better or not. Nobody knows, and nobody can tell you, so don’t throw away your money. But I can tell you one thing. You’ve got good energy. You’ve got people who love you.” From the kitchen came the sound of a Corgi scratching at the door. “You’ve got your boys. And you’re a fighter. As soon as the sale closes, find yourself somewhere nice, and get every treatment money can buy. You’ve got Saint fucking Michael as your spirit guide. Who the fuck is going to fuck around with you?”
She laughed and turned her head, and for a moment, Jem could see the girl she’d been. When she looked at him again, her eyes glistened, but they were brighter than they’d been, her shoulders a little straighter, her hands clutching his a little tighter.
A knock came at the door: thudding, loud, longer than it needed to be. Asshole, Jem’s brain said. And then, Cop.
Heather startled in her seat, and a breath escaped her—a wheezy, punched-out sound. “They’re here.”
“Who?” Tean straightened and shot Jem a look.
Jem shook his head, but he got to his feet and got his hands in his pockets. Antenna. Paracord. The first one through the door would be surprised.
Then a voice shouted, “Police! Open up!”
“No,” Heather moaned. “Oh God, no.”
“Is that Chief Cassidy?” Tean asked.
“Open this door right now!” Now that Tean had named him, Jem could hear Cassidy under the thick padding of cop aggression. “Heather Weis, open the door!”
