Page 84 of The Tomorrows After You
Idrankin his scent and his masculine shape andrelishedthe hot heat that rose between us. Ipressedmy lips, thick andwanting,against his to give him my answer.
Iexpectedto find Riot’s bedroom messy, like a typical boy’s room. But Iwassaddenedto walk in and find it almost bare. Ithadlight-gray walls with almost no personal effects. The only thing Ispottedwasa series of photoswedgedall around the border of the mirror thatsaton top of his dresser.
They were all of his parents. Family photos, couple photos, individual photos. It was the first time I realized there had been none around the house.
“I didn’t know how Brennan would react if Ihungher photos up around the house. So, Ikeptthem to myself in here,”Riotsaid, readingmy mind. My heartachedfor him. His fingersranover the photographs.
“She’s beautiful,” I said.
It was wild how different she looked in the younger photos with her husband and the boys. Beyond looking young, she lookedhappy.Carefree. Her brown hair was loose, blowing in the wind. She smiled carelessly, holding Riot’s hands.
There was a noticeable shift in her appearance when the boys were older. There was little color to her cheeks. Her hair was flat and her clothes were buttoned tightly to her neck. Her smile never touched her eyes.
“Shewasn’ta bad person. Shewasn’ta bad mother. Not to me at least.”Riot’s chestheavedslowly.“From thebeginning, she just didn’t know how to be a parent to someone like Brennan. When Daddied, itwaslike all of a sudden shewokeup in someone else’s life.”
Ithoughtabout what it musthavebeen like, to kiss your husband goodbye for work in the morning and never see him again. To come home to two young boys andhaveto manage the entire family by yourself. My heartachedfor the young couple in a Polaroid,takenon their wedding day.
When I looked over at him, Riot’s eyes were filled with sadness.
“It’s okay to miss her, you know.”Itooka step closer. Heexhaleda breath through a doubtful smile.
“I know. It just feels likeI’mbetrayingmy brother somehow bywishingshewerestill here.”My handroamedthe massive expanse of his back.“I’vebeen angry for so long andhavehadnowhere toputit. Angry at him for taking her away. Angry at her forsendinghim to that camp. Angry at myself for not being around to take better care of them.”Heputdown the photoandturnedto face me.“Whenyou’rearound, I forget about that anger. You make it feel like it’s not such a hurdle after all. Like I can finallyputdown the anger and move on.”
His words fell over me, making the bridge of my nose sting.
“Whatever happens, Nicolette. Thank you for giving me that.”
It was the middle of the night when I woke up. My body was still thoroughly spent and my limbs were limp from the peaceful blanket of bliss Riot and I had created. But I’d had another dream about Grace. She was in the backyard this time, standing still, unmoving until I approached closer. Once again she started spinning as if she were a ballerina standing on one of those music box platforms. She sped up until the surrounding air created a vortex and I was sucked in.
My eyes popped open, and I needed water. I gazed over to ensure Riot was still asleep. I padded out of his room into the kitchen where I downed two glasses, trying to wash away the minor wine headache.
On my way back, I slipped into my room and opened my computer, pulling the crime scene report back up that I had been looking at before Riot invited me to the drive-in movie.
Victimwasfoundlying on her back between the dining area and kitchen. Victim’s bodywasface up with three distinct puncture wounds in the abdomen.
There was an outline of a body with three Xs, which indicated where the stab wounds were found.
Mobile device was found shattered in the corner of the dining room.
I paused, recalling Riot’s words.
She was face down in the kitchen…
Her phone…was on the kitchen counter.
Could it be possible that Riotmisremembered? It didn’t seem right.I’dinterviewedenough trauma victims to know that they oftenrecalledthe tiniest details correctly.
The police reportwasshort,writtenby Godot’s best and brightest, whichwasn’tsaying much. But itcontradictedwhat Riotsaid. Even for acut-rate, backwoods West Virginia police force, itwasunlikely that anyone with two eyes and a semi-functional brain could get simple details like that wrong.
I found the name of the reporting officer.
Officer Emery Plainbottom.
Plainbottom.
Fuck, this town was small.
I did a quick White Pages search and found he was Arthur’s brother, which made him Katie’s uncle. I also uncovered his last known address, which, of course, was still in Godot. He was in the Valley, though, which I found interesting. I had assumed that the Plainbottoms were a well-off family given how involved with the church they were. I needed to talk to Emery, and I needed to get my hands on the crime scene photos.
