This Secret Thing, стр. 64
She wished Jason would show up. She’d feed him the meal she’d made, sit across the table and watch him eat, will herself not to give away how much she’d thought about that brief, chaste middle-of-the-night kiss. She’d all but convinced herself it had never happened. That she’d dreamed it just the same as she’d dreamed her daughters were in that body bag. She shuddered at the recollection, reached for the phone to text them both, just to make sure they were OK. As she grabbed her phone, it rang and she jumped. It was just Polly calling her back.
“Hi, Polly,” she said. “Guess you got my message.”
“Yes,” the older woman said. “Sorry I didn’t answer. I didn’t recognize the number, and I was afraid you were—”
“Afraid I was who?” Bess asked, curious.
“Oh, just afraid you were that damn detective. He keeps nosing around,” Polly said.
Bess heard the lie in her voice, but she said nothing. If she could talk to Norah, she would tell her that her mother was not with a man this time, nor had she mentioned one. Maybe, she’d say to Norah, your mom has changed.
“So you think you could use the meal?” she asked Polly.
“That would actually be a lifesaver. I’m about to head out to take Violet to visit her mother.” She paused, then added, “In the jail,” in case Bess was not clear on where Norah was.
“Wow, I’m surprised they’re allowing it. I thought she was on complete lockdown.”
“Yeah,” Polly said. “Technically she is. They’re acting like they’re doing this for Violet. Some good deed.” Polly sighed into the phone. “But to be honest, I think they’re allowing it because they want to listen in, see if Violet gets Norah to open up.”
Bess tried to imagine shy, reticent Violet entering a jail, facing her mother who’d lied to and betrayed her. Once, on one of their moms’ nights out, Bess had been complaining about her daughters. Nicole was morphing into a mouthy teen; Casey was demanding. The usual stuff. It had surprised her when Norah, who rarely said a negative word about Violet, joined in, admitting that her daughter was not what she’d expected. “I wanted a hell-raiser,” she’d said. “A ballbuster. Instead I got a shrinking Violet.” She’d laughed at her own joke, and Bess had felt sorry for Violet, a sweet child she’d always liked. Bess had a feeling Violet wouldn’t always be shrinking, and that Norah might not know what to do with her daughter when that day came.
“I called her attorney,” Polly continued, “just so I could tell Violet I’d asked, and he said he’d have to get some special permission but not to count on it. I told him I wasn’t counting on it at all, but the kid was asking and just to try his best. The next thing I knew he was calling back and telling me where to be and when.”
“Well, that’s good for Violet. Right? I mean I’m sure it’ll be good for her to be able to see Norah after all this time.”
Polly sighed. “I guess. I just feel like that damn detective’s got something up his sleeve. They got back to me way too fast.”
Bess thought about this. She’d met the detective twice, but she doubted he recalled the first time, when she’d dropped a meal at his missing brother’s home. The other time was when he’d come around to ask her questions. He’d done his homework and knew that she and Norah had once been best friends, but not anymore. He’d fished around, trying to find out if there might be more to the story of their breakup, but Bess had assured him that wasn’t the case. She’d told him that, looking back, she saw that their breakup had probably been Norah’s way of keeping Bess from finding out what she was up to. He’d said that that made sense.
She’d smiled warmly and sent him on his way, relieved he was gone. Cops made her nervous. Whether she drove past one and panicked that she was accidentally committing some traffic violation or stood on her porch and watched one leave her home, her heart pounded just the same. She’d stayed on her porch, watching until she was sure he’d driven away. She could see why Polly didn’t like him. He seemed to presume everyone was guilty. Which she guessed was true. Everyone was guilty of something. It didn’t take a detective to figure that out.
“I’m sure it will be fine,” she said.
Polly chuckled. “Well, I’m glad you’re sure.” There was a long pause, and Bess heard Polly sigh.
“Everything OK?” she asked.
“I don’t know,” Polly said, and in her voice Bess heard the long exhalation of the exhausted and confused. Bess was familiar with the feeling. “Violet’s outside talking to that boy who lives across the street? The good-looking one? Micah? I can’t remember his last name.”
Bess knew all too well who she was talking about. “Micah Berg,” she supplied.
“Should I be worried?” Polly asked. “She’s been spending a good bit of time with him.”
“Eh. Not gonna lie to you. There’s a little controversy around him. He was involved with a tragedy last spring,” Bess said. “His girlfriend died under mysterious circumstances, and he’s been accused of having something to do with it. The rumors still swirl. But there’ve been no charges made,” she was quick to add. She knew Micah’s parents, Bob and Jane Berg, as gentle, kind people.