All the Little Pieces. Jilliane Hoffman

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СКАЧАТЬ out for her as they slapped cuffs on and placed her in the back of a police car, its red-and-blue lights spinning across her little girl’s tear-stained face, like a scene from a movie. And then Jarrod – looking shocked and disappointed as he stared at her through the jail’s bullet-proof glass asking her how she could drink and drive with Maggie in the car. How could she do such an awful thing?

       Why did she drink tonight? Why did Charity make her leave when she knew she’d been drinking? Why didn’t she get a hotel? Why didn’t she listen to Jarrod and stay home? Why? Why? Why?

      A series of bad decisions – one after the other after the other. The one smart choice she thought she’d made turned out to be the worst one of all – stopping in that godforsaken, Twilight Zone town. She looked around desperately. The windows were fogging again, blurring the motel doors. She felt trapped – cornered in this car, in this deserted parking lot, boxed in by her terrible decisions. It was so claustrophobic, she could feel her chest closing. Her eyes caught on a figure moving across the empty lobby of the motel.

       You are a person who cannot be trusted.

       I don’t have a good feeling about tonight …

      She squeezed her eyes closed. It wouldn’t matter why she’d called the police; she’d be the one going to jail tonight.

      Forty-five minutes had passed since she’d woken up in a nightmare. Since she’d seen whatever it was she’d seen. They were all long gone by now – that girl, with her tattoos and piercings and dirty hands and bare feet, and those two creepy men. It wasn’t right to judge, but, well … who … who knows why they were all out there? No one had a weapon. The girl looked tough. She wasn’t bleeding. She wasn’t bleeding! That was important.

      Faith took a deep breath, wiped her face with her sleeve and put the car in drive while her brain kept throwing around rationalizations.

       All three might’ve been on drugs; they might have robbed you.

      She pulled out of the parking lot and onto Southern Blvd.

       They could’ve hurt Maggie. Or worse. God knows what might have happened if you had opened that door. As Jarrod once said, ‘It’s hard to appreciate the tragedy that would have been when the plot is foiled before the bomb is built.’

      She spotted the sign for Florida’s Turnpike.

       All three of them were long gone from there. And you don’t even know exactly where ‘there’ is, Faith. You’d have to retrace your steps with the police, and they wouldn’t do that with you once they’d placed you under arrest. You’d be in custody. You’d be headed to booking. Getting ready to have your mug shot taken and be fingerprinted and then strip-searched in some local Podunk jail.

      She set off, heading south. There were a few other cars on the road now. That was comforting.

       It was a deer, Faith. Deer can cause nasty damage. You weren’t going fast, so it wasn’t hurt too badly and it scampered into the cane. That’s why there was nothing there.

      It was past three when she pulled into her driveway. She looked in the back seat. Maggie was like Jarrod – she could sleep through anything. Faith leaned her head back on the headrest, feeling both intense relief at having made it home safe and overwhelming shame for the same reason. Like a character in a Grimms’ fairytale, she had left the haunted forest with all its perils and dangerous, strange inhabitants far, far behind her, and had arrived back at the castle. She took a deep breath and checked her rearview one final time. The rationalizations had worked like shoddy patchwork on a leaky roof: they’d done the job for now. It would hold, but there was no telling for how long.

      Then she hit the garage-door button and with a chilling sense of impending dread, watched it close on the night with a heavy thud.

       10

      ‘Hey there, honey,’ Jarrod whispered, his breath warm on her cheek. ‘What time did you get in?’

      ‘’Bout three,’ Faith answered softly, her face buried in a pillow, most of her head and body burrowed under the comforter, her eyes still closed. The house was freezing; Jarrod liked to keep it like an igloo when they slept.

      ‘Why aren’t you at your sister’s?’ He sounded distracted.

      She could smell the fresh scent of soap and his Bulgari cologne; she heard the crisp rustle his jacket made when he checked his cell phone and put it into his suit pocket. Without opening her eyes, she could tell he was dressed for court and probably running late.

      ‘Long story,’ she mumbled. ‘I … I wasn’t feeling well; I didn’t want to stay.’

      ‘What?’ His hand found her forehead. ‘What’s the matter?’

      ‘My stomach … I’m OK now.’

      ‘Did you get sick?’

      ‘I didn’t feel well. It’s all right, I’m OK.’

      She could tell he was checking his cell again. ‘You must have some great stories to tell about last night.’

      Faith buried herself deeper into the pillow.

      He kissed her on the cheek. ‘Sleep in; it’s early. I got a motion in Palm Beach, so I gotta run. I’ll take Maggie to school.’

      ‘Maggie’s up?’

      ‘Up and downstairs and ready to go and, boy, is she in rare form. She actually wants to go to school today. Mrs Wackett is in for a treat. Did she sleep at all?’ he asked, his voice fading as he moved toward the bedroom door.

      ‘In the car.’

      ‘That must have been some ride home …’ he said, his voice rising on the word ‘some’ as he opened the door and headed out into the hall.

      She opened her eyes. ‘Huh?’ The room was dark but for a slice of weak light that leaked onto the carpet where the drapes didn’t meet.

      ‘Love you!’ he yelled from downstairs. She heard him hurry Maggie into the car, then his garage door opened and shut and he was gone.

      When she woke up again the bedroom was still dark. For a few blissful seconds while she lay there tuning in to the day, she forgot about the night before – the party, the fight, the storm, the girl, the strange men. But with just a few blinks, the static was gone and it all came rushing back. And along with the assorted upsetting memories came guilt, accompanied by a heavy, awful, queasy feeling in the pit of her stomach, like she had drunk a shot of glue. She looked over at the clock and sat up with a start. It was already eight thirty. She hadn’t slept that late in ages.

      Her head throbbed and her body ached. Physically, she felt like she’d been hit by a truck. Emotionally she felt just as drained, like the mornings after she and Jarrod had had an argument and she’d spent most of the night crying. After she’d put Maggie to bed last night she’d finally had that cigarette, along with a generous shot of Stoli, out on the back patio. That was probably a bad idea in hindsight, but she could not sleep when she first got СКАЧАТЬ