Page 83 of Trace of Doubt
Thanks. Aria is upset and needs me. She and Mom were close.
The idea of Dad requesting to take Aria on a vacation after Mom passed tormented me. I once believed my dad held more integrity in the palm of his hand than most people ever acquired in a lifetime, and I couldn’t shake it loose now.
49
Edie had become more than a good friend—she was my sister-friend. Thursday morning, her condolences about Mom’s entrance into heaven touched me like the love I shared with Marissa.
“I know the funeral’s tomorrow,” she said. “Sheriff Wendall stopped by my office with the news. I can only imagine how badly you want to be there. The sheriff said you learned about it yesterday. He’d have called me sooner, but he had to be in Houston for a trial.”
“Thanks.” The lump in my throat thickened.
“Wish I could see you. But we can still talk, and I’m a good listener.”
We shared mom memories from her life and mine. We exchanged a few tears and laughter in the process. Loved my sister-friend.
“You’ve been down,” she said. “Anything I can do to help? Life’s hit you with too many obstacles.”
More like bullets. “It will get better. Is Amy-Jo still staying with you?”
“Yes. She’s a character. Offered to teach me how to shoot. I think I’ll take her up on it.”
“Good idea.” I put away laundry while we talked. “What else is going on with you?”
“My kids thought a real-life nightmare was funny.”
“Nightmares are never funny. What happened?”
“Laugh, and I’ll be knocking on your door. Last night I walked into my bedroom, ready for my pajamas. A bat flew over my head and I screamed. It flew past me again. Trust me, I hit the hysterical level. Timothy came running. All I could do was point to the ceiling fan, where the bat perched on a blade.”
“Timothy took care of it?”
“No! He started listing the good things bats do—like eating mosquitoes. I told him bats were rats with wings, and rats carried the bubonic plague. Who knew what the winged demons could do? There is a reason why bats are in horror movies. They belong with the destination of all other fiends of the world.” Edie sucked in air. “I’m still upset. Anyway, I escaped under the bed like a two-year-old, not a mother who’s supposed to defend her children. Timothy chased it with a broom and hollered for Livy to open the front and back doors. Between them, they chased the varmint out of the house. Me? I was too scared to crawl out from under the bed for a long time.”
An image of Edie paralyzed over a bat hit me as incredibly funny, and laughter rolled over me. The best prescription for sadness.
“I figured you’d view my nightmare as comic relief. Goodness, I’ve probably scarred my kids for life, requiring perpetual counseling.”
“Bats are scary. My first experience with a bat happened—” A car door slammed, and I peeked through the window to check on the visitor. Randy Hughes stumbled out of his truck and wobbledup the stony path to my front door. “Edie, your brother’s here. He appears to be drunk.”
“I’ll call Sheriff Wendall. Stay inside. He can be dangerous when he’s this way. Hang on while I click over.”
I stayed on the line while Randy clomped up a porch step. A second step, then a third.
“Are you there?” Edie said.
“Yes,” I whispered.
Randy pounded on the door.
“I heard that. Is he armed?”
“I don’t know.”
“Shelby, open the door. This is Randy Hughes.” He slurred his words. “We need to talk.”
While I’d been at the wrong end of angry people before and faced the brunt of their hatred, I knew better than to face him. Irrational behavior shook me to the core. Where was the officer who watched my house? I texted him for help. My only recourse was to talk Randy down until officers arrived.
“Gotta go.” I pressed End before Edie could protest. “What do you want to discuss?”
