Page 200 of Bad Attitude
“Sorry,” her mother murmurs, not looking away from me. “Shush for me please, darling.”
Don’t hurt her,she mouths at me, eyes begging.
I’m not going to hurt her. I wouldn’t. Icouldn’t.
Why haven’t I left?
I get off my stool, staggering as the room spins. It takes a moment to steady myself, a hand on the kitchen island. The woman is watching me like I’m a threat; the child like I’m something she’s trying to figure out. Her innocence, my guilt.
I swallow down bile, my stomach churning. I need to get out of here before I throw up on her pristinefloor.
“Sorry that I’ve…”Intruded where I have no right to be. Scared the hell out of you.
I can’t finish that sentence.
The woman glances at the kettle again.
My emotions are in such turmoil it takes me too long to put it together: it’s not the goddamn kettle she keeps looking at, it’s her phone.
Ice runs across my skin.
That twitch of her hand on her phone that I barely caught, so distracted by her emotions at the time. What else did she do?
Has she called someone? Who? The police? My bike’s halfway down the street. What’s their response time in a town this small? How long ago did she dial?
She sees the moment I realize. The consternation in her eyes. She’s farther away than I am, but the kitchen island is between me and the counter.
I get there first.
She’s only taken a step and doesn’t even try to stop me, her arms full of daughter. Holding her like she’s something precious. Holding her like I can never remember my mother holding me.
I pick the phone up. Turn it over.
The call’s connected. One name on the screen: Declan.
“Momma!” the girl cries. “You’rehurtingme!”
“Sorry, baby. Please… just be quiet for me. I won’t hurt you.”
Four minutes and thirty-six seconds on the call duration. About when she dropped it face down.Right after I’d said his name.
No, not his name. When I called him her husband.Thensaid his name.
What else have I said? What did he hear?
“Declan!” she cries out.
“Raven.” His voice comes out of the phone. Calm and steady. “I know you’re there.” How can he be so calm? “My sister and my niece are innocent.”
Shit. Fuck.
I stare at the phone I’m holding.
“I know you can hear me,” he says. “Answer me, please.”
I can’t. My words… I’m still reeling.
His voice comes again. “I’m on my way. Just passed Camarillo down the 101. Fifteen minutes. I only want to talk.”
