Faithless

Even though there wasn’t a visible sign of it, Lena felt like she still had some of Terri’s blood on her- in her hair, under her fingernails. No matter what she did, she could still smell it, taste it, feel it. It was heavy, like guilt, and tasted of bitter defeat. She had not helped the woman. She had done nothing to protect her. Terri had been right- they were both drowning in the same ocean.

Her cell phone rang as she turned into her neighborhood, and Lena checked the caller ID, praying like hell Jeffrey didn’t need her back at the station. She squinted at the number, not recognizing it. Lena let the phone ring a few more times before it suddenly came to her. Lu Mitchell’s number. She had almost forgotten it after all these years.

She nearly dropped the phone trying to open it, then cursed as she put it up to her injured ear. Lena switched it around, saying, “Hello?” There was no response, and her heart dropped, thinking the call had gone to her voice mail.

She was about to end the co

“Yeah,” she said, trying not to sound breathless. “Hey. How’s it going?”

“I heard on the news about the woman,” he said. “Were you there?”

“Yeah,” she told him, wondering how long it had been since someone asked her about work. Ethan was too self-centered and Nan was too squeamish.

“Are you okay?”

“I watched her die,” Lena told him. “I just held her hand and watched her die.”

She heard his breathing over the line and thought about Terri, the way her last breaths had sounded.

He told her, “It’s good that she had you there.”

“I don’t know about that.”

“No,” he disagreed. “It’s good that she had someone with her.”

Before she could stop herself, she said, “I’m not a very good person, Greg.”

Again, all she could hear was his breathing.

“I’ve made some really bad mistakes.”

“Everybody has.”

“Not like me,” she said. “Not the ones I have.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

She wanted more than anything else to talk about it, to tell him everything that had happened, to shock him with the ugly details. She couldn’t, though. She needed him too badly, needed to know he was just down the street, holding his mama’s yarn while Lu knitted him another ugly scarf.

“So,” Greg said, and Lena strained to fill the silence.

“I’m enjoying the CD.”

His tone went up. “You got it?”

“Yeah,” she told him, forcing some cheer into her voice. “I really like that second song.”

“It’s called ‘Oldest Story in the World.’ ”

“I’d know that if you’d written down the titles.”

“That’s why you go out and buy the CD for yourself, you goof.” She had forgotten what it was like to be teased, and Lena felt some of the weight that had been on her chest start to lighten.

He continued, “The liner notes are great. Lots of pictures of the girls. A

“Yeah.” She felt herself smiling, too, and wished that they could talk like this forever, that she wouldn’t have to think about Terri dying in front of her, or of Terri’s children being abandoned by the one person in the world who could protect them. Now all they would have was Dale- Dale and the fear of being killed like their mama.

She forced this out of her brain, saying, “The twelfth song is good, too.”

“That’s ‘Down the Nile,’ ” he told her. “Since when do you like ballads?”

“Since…” She didn’t know since when. “I don’t know. I just like it.” She had pulled into the driveway behind Nan’s Toyota.

“‘Move On’ is cool,” Greg was saying, but she didn’t really follow. The porch light had turned on. Ethan’s bike was leaning against the front stairs.

“Lee?”

Her smile was gone. “Yeah?”

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” she breathed, her mind reeling. What was Ethan doing in the house? What was he doing with Nan?

“Lee?”

She swallowed hard, making herself speak. “I need to go, Greg. Okay?”

“Is something wrong?”

“No,” she lied, feeling like her heart might explode in her chest. “Everything’s fine. I just can’t talk now.” She hung up before he could respond, dropping the phone in the seat beside her, opening the door with a hand that refused to be steady.

Lena wasn’t sure how she made it up the steps, but she found herself with her hand on the doorknob, her palms slick and sweaty. She took a breath, opening the door.

“Hi!” Nan popped up from the chair where she had been sitting, moving behind it as if she needed a shield. Her eyes were wide, her voice u

“It’s better than it looks.”

Ethan was on the couch, his arm across the back, his legs open in a hostile stance that managed to take up the entire room. He didn’t speak, but he didn’t have to. The threat of him seeped out of every pore.

“Are you okay?” Nan insisted. “ Lena? What happened?”

Lena said, “There was a situation,” keeping her eyes on Ethan.

“They didn’t say much of anything on the news,” Nan said. She was edging toward the kitchen, almost giddy from stress. Ethan stayed where he was, his jaw in a tight line, his muscles flexed. Lena saw his book bag beside his feet and wondered what he had in there. Something heavy, probably. Something to beat her with.

Nan offered, “Would you like some tea?”

“That’s okay,” Lena told her, then said to Ethan, “Let’s go to my room.”

“We could play some cards, Lee.” Nan ’s voice wavered. She was obviously alarmed, and she stood her ground. “Why don’t we all play some cards?”

“That’s okay,” Lena answered, knowing she had to do everything in her power to keep Nan out of harm’s way. Lena had brought this on herself, but Nan would not be hurt because of it. She owed that to Sibyl. She owed that to herself.

Nan tried, “Lee?”

“It’s okay, Nan.” Again, she told Ethan, “Let’s go to my room.”

He didn’t move at first, letting her know he was in charge of the situation. When he got up, he took his time, stretching his arms in front of him, faking a yawn.

Lena turned her back to him, ignoring the show. She went into her room and sat on the bed, waiting, praying that he would leave Nan alone.

Ethan sauntered into her bedroom, eyeing her suspiciously. “Where you been?” he asked, shutting the door with a soft click. He gripped his book bag in one hand, keeping his arms at his side.

She shrugged. “Work.”

He dropped the bag with a solid clunk onto the floor. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

“You shouldn’t come here,” she told him.

“That so?”

“I would’ve called you.” She lied, “I was going to come by later.”

“You bent the rim on my front tire,” he said. “It cost me eighty bucks to get a new one.”

She stood, going to the bureau. “I’ll pay you back,” she said, opening the top drawer. She kept her money in an old cigar box. Beside it was a black plastic case that held a Mini-Glock. Nan ’s father was a cop and after Sibyl had been murdered, he had insisted his daughter take the gun. Nan had given it to Lena, and Lena had put it in the drawer as a backup. At night, her service weapon was always on the bedside table, but knowing the other Glock was in the drawer, sitting in the unlocked plastic case, was the only reason she was able to go to sleep.

She could take the gun now. She could take it and use it and finally get Ethan out of her life.

“What are you doing?” he demanded.

Lena took out the cigar box and slid the drawer closed. She put the box on top of the dresser and opened the lid. Ethan’s large hand reached in front of her, closing back the lid.

He was standing behind her, his body barely touching hers. She felt the whisper of his breath on the back of her neck when he said, “I don’t want your money.”