Page 59 of Hart of Darkness
19
Maggie
Several of Nadine’s family members were sniffling as the priest read a passage from the Bible. I couldn’t see Nadine’s mom and dad since I was behind them, but I knew who they were since the priest had addressed them before he’d gotten started.
Tears clouded my vision, and I hated that I hadn’t been able to help Nadine more. I should’ve insisted that she speak to Ted. More than anything, I regretted that I hadn’t brought Ted in right from the beginning. If I had, she might still be alive. But I understood her apprehension about running to the cops. After Cory had raped me, I’d been scared out of my wits of going to the cops.
The gray-haired priest had a soft voice as he continued to speak.
I dove into my own thoughts as I tuned him out, recalling Lou’s funeral, which was the only funeral I’d been to aside from Nadine’s. I remembered thinking that I didn’t want to end up dead. It had taken me about a year after his death and a few stints in jail for petty crimes to wake up.
As I stood there, next to the man who had given me the best orgasms to date, I realized that I only got one chance to live my life, and I didn’t want to miss out on the finer things like a steady boyfriend or, dare I say, marriage. Before Dillon, I had begun to think I couldn’t feel that intimate connection with someone. But after the last week, I was slowly changing my tune. Maybe love wasn’t overrated. Maybe Dillon was cracking through my cement wall, bit by bit.
I was surely getting ahead of myself, though. I’d all but forced us to be nothing more than friends. If I hadn’t gotten all weird about how he was making me feel, then our relationship would’ve taken a natural course. Maybe we would’ve kissed, or maybe Dillon wouldn’t be closed off. He’d changed from the way he’d acted before that day in his kitchen. Even during sex, I could tell he was holding back from showing me more of his emotions.
On the drive up to Charlestown, we’d talked about everything and anything but us and the night before.
The rustling and louder voices drew me out of my funk.
Dillon cupped my elbow. “Do you want to pay your respects?”
Nadine’s parents, Mr. and Mrs. Glover, were standing over the coffin. Mrs. Glover, who wore a simple black dress and her dark-auburn hair pulled back into a tight chignon, had her hand on the casket. Mr. Glover stayed close to his wife, tucking his hands into his pants pockets. I could see where Nadine had gotten her red hair. Both her parents had red hair, although Mr. Glover’s was a brighter shade than his wife’s.
“I’ll wait until she’s done,” I said in a low voice. I hated to disturb her while she was saying her final goodbyes.
Most of the other guests had departed. Some were talking to each other in the parking lot, which wasn’t far from the gravesite.
“Thanks for coming,” I said to Dillon.
His whiskey-colored eyes sparkled in the morning sun. “Anytime.”
I was learning that my belly was always giddy when I was around him. He looked like a man on the pages of GQ, with the sleeves of his crisp white shirt folded neatly up his forearms and his tattoos peeking out. His nose ring was glimmering. His beard was trimmed and hugged his angular jaw. His cologne was drifting on the light wind, and his wild hair was tamed with a small amount of gel.
Mrs. Glover broke my concentration as she sniffled, walking by me.
My nerves started to sing as I cleared my throat. On the way here, I’d wrestled over whether or not to put on my reporter hat or just pay my respects. Today wasn’t the day to probe her parents for information for my story. However, if I only paid my respects, then her parents might ask me how I knew Nadine, and I couldn’t tell them without spilling information that Ted didn’t want the public to know.
“Mrs. Glover? Mr. Glover?” I interlaced my hands in front of me. “I’m Maggie Marx, a reporter for theBoston Eagle,and this is my friend, Dillon Hart. We’re very sorry for your loss.” I figured if I told them I was a reporter, then they wouldn’t ask me how I knew Nadine. In turn, I wouldn’t have to lie.
Mr. Glover appraised Dillon and me. “We’re in mourning, Ms. Marx. Your questions can wait.”
I wasn’t surprised. “Honestly, Mr. Glover, I would like to learn more about Nadine. Is there a good time when I can meet with you and Mrs. Glover?” Tears surfaced as I thought about Nadine.
Mrs. Glover handed me a tissue. “I get the feeling you knew Nadine.”
Dillon placed his hand on my lower back. “Nadine’s body was found not far from where we live. We feel awful about what happened to her.”
I’d filled Dillon in on the way there that Ted hadn’t divulged anything about Nadine running from that house since he was still working on the case.
Mrs. Glover shuddered, while Mr. Glover relaxed a little bit.
I wanted to kiss Dillon for breaking the ice, especially since I was on the verge of crying along with Mrs. Glover.
Then Mrs. Glover started in. “We never thought our little girl would be swallowed up by the big city. She had such high hopes when she packed her bags and moved to Boston. She wanted to be on her own, and we felt we needed to let her explore her life.”
“We gave her enough money to get on her feet,” Mr. Glover said. “She called us frequently, and the last time we spoke to her, about six weeks ago, she informed us she’d found a job working in retail sales. That was the last we heard from her.”
Maybe that was how she’d met Miguel. But Ted had said Miguel found runaway girls, homeless girls, and girls prostituting themselves, not girls who worked in retail. It sounded as though Nadine had lied to her parents.
