Page 3 of Run for Her Life
Dawn ground her teeth, her grip on the shears unwavering as she trimmed the hedges in the garden. Leaves fluttered at her feet in an uneven pile before dancing in the air. It was another gloomy day in Pineview Falls. A gray sky with spinning clouds and whooshing wind. “Getting a seat on the board isn’t like floating in on a breeze, David.”
“I’ve worked hard, Mother. You know it.”
Dawn continued shaping the hedge. “The problem with your generation is your sense of entitlement.” She dropped the shears on the ground and removed her gloves with a huff. “Working hard doesn’t mean you are deserving. You have to be good at what you do.” She turned around to find his face flushing red and his thick eyebrows knitted in a frown. “When I was your age, I was busy busting my ass trying to make ends meet because your father had dragged us into debt. And you know what I got in return? His infidelity.”
“Yes, yes, I know, Mother. I don’t know why we go over this every?—”
“Because you are yet to learn that life is unfair,” Dawn snapped. “Accept your failures. You aren’t ready.”
He blanched at her words. “How can I become ready? I care about this company.”
Her eyes narrowed as she scrutinized her forty-four-year-old son with a receding hairline, thick round glasses, and unkind eyes, wild with desperation. A longing to prove himself. “There’s a board meeting at the end of the week. I need to focus on that first.” She had barely slept these past few weeks. It wasn’t that long ago when she had woken to the news that had shattered her peace like a smashed mirror. And the last thing Dawn needed right now was her son demanding a share of the pie, only to make the situation worse by his inadequacy. She breezed past him to head back to the office when his voice came again.
“Will you ever forgive me?” His voice cracked.
Dawn’s eyes flitted to the secluded alcove on her left with a wrought-iron bench under the dappled shade of a centuries-old oak. A lone wooden swing swayed from a willow branch. The unfurling cobblestone path was bordered by rosebushes. The only sounds were bees humming and water trickling down a tiered fountain. The little corner that Dawn had designed and constructed all by herself. An oasis in the otherwise dreary town of Pineview Falls. The part of the garden that breathed a story.
The story of the child she had lost. Her eyes landed on the grave.
Dawn didn’t have the heart to say no. It seemed cruel. So she replied with silence and walked away, feeling lost like an untethered shadow.
Sheriff Lisa Gray stared at the pamphlet on her desk.
Enter if you’re brave. Survive if you can.
Pineview Falls Carnival.
The glossy paper was a splash of colors displaying roller coasters, bumper cars, food stalls of cotton candy and funnel cakes, game stands from ring toss to dunk tanks, and the main attraction dominating the pamphlet: Fun House, a haunted house experience.
Lisa felt shards of glass clog her throat as she swallowed hard. “What has the world come to?” She stared at Fun House, a rusty structure with cracked windows, peeling paint, rotting wooden siding, and cobwebs in corners. The front porch consisted of a caved-in railing, and broken steps that led to a torn screen door.
“I swear, Lisa, she makes me feel like a weekend subscription.” The deputy sheriff, Toby, sat across from her, his shoulders tense, his fat fingers interlaced over his beer belly. “Enjoy your limited time as a father. Expires on Sunday at 6 p.m.”
She smirked, putting the pamphlet away. “You should check if there’s an auto-renew option.”
“Very funny,” he said flatly.
“You want more time with your kid, go talk to a lawyer.”
“Lawyers are snakes in fancy suits,” he grumbled, chewing a toothpick. “The last two I spoke with burned a hole in my wallet and used fancy words that went over my head.”
“I’ll give you a dictionary bonus at Christmas.”
“You’re in a mood today.”
Lisa flipped through the reports piling up on her desk. Delinquent teenagers getting into trouble around town. This wasn’t how she had imagined her life would be the day she decided to get into law enforcement. The sparkling glamour surrounding the job had dried up after her first week busting crackheads around town.
Because Pineview Falls was only known for two things: the fire of 1995, and drugs.
“I don’t even know if my kid knows that I want to spend more time with him,” Toby continued. “The worry you carry constantly when you have a kid… You’re lucky you don’t have any.”
Lisa froze, her breath imprisoned in her chest. Her eyes drifted to Toby who blankly stared out the window that looked onto the back alley of a Chinese restaurant. Little did he know how “lucky” she felt when this morning she got her period—again.
They were interrupted when a deputy waltzed in with a report. “Remember that 911 call yesterday from the man saying his wife hadn’t come home after work?”
“Yeah.” Lisa uncapped a bottle of painkillers. “What about it?”
“He called again asking if we’re looking into it.”
