I’d spent the entire funeral avoiding her and now her incestual hands were around my mother.
Standing with a plate of baked-from-scratch cinnamon rolls, Kara rubbed my mom’s back as she cried. The picture of poise, her blonde hair hung in a loose waves from her shoulders. A boat necked black dress hugged her curves, the skirt stopped just above her knees. Her make up was a sheen of perfection.
Mom was a mess. Couldn’t even dress herself this morning. The flowy black and pink floral dress was the easiest thing to get on her. My attempt at makeup streaked down her face in messy tears. Her fingers clung to the silver cross around her neck as her face buried in Kara’s shoulder.
Cici had been like a mother to her. I’d tried to help her through her grief, through my own, and hadn’t realized she’d needed to lose herself in it until this moment. When Kara was the one she turned to.
“You okay, babe?” Corey touched my elbow, but I couldn't look at him.
“No.”
Memories of my aunt screamed across my mind. How she took me to Disneyworld when I was six. When she made matching T-shirts for my whole family with my name on it to wear to my middle school basketball competition. The countless times I’d crawled into her lap and hugged her until I fell asleep, as a child and as an addict in withdrawal.
“It was because of her I got clean.”
“You stayed clean by yourself. Hey.” His fingers urged my chin toward him, forcing me to meet his eyes. “Tell me what I can do.”
I felt my mouth open and grasp the air for words. A moment passed as I looked at him, wondering at everything just out of touch for me. Every beautiful thing he offered that I couldn’t feel. Emotions that were just out of touch, emotions I would give anything for.
He’s a good man.
“Nothing. I’ll be fine. Just have to get through this part. I really appreciate you coming. You didn’t have to do this. You didn’t sign up for all the drama.”
“I signed up to be with you, and that’s exactly what I’m doing.” He grimaced, dropped his hands to my waist. “Or what I was doing. I hate leaving you right now. It’s like I’m leaving you in the middle of a storm.”
“Go. I’ll be fine. There’ll be plenty enough storm later on. I promise.”
“Say the word and I’ll stay.”
Smiling, I stroked his face. “You gotta work, babe. How else are you going to buy me the mint Lambo of my dreams?”
“Lambo?” Corey bit his lip, but his eyes were laughing. Looking around, he pulled me closer. Nestled his face next to my ear.
“Lambo and I are on a first name, nickname basis,” I promised.
“Don’t… don’t make me laugh right now. Not here.”
Guilt heated my cheeks. “I just… trying to lighten the mood. I mean, make you not feel bad about leaving.”
“No worries, babe.” He pulled back, kissed my forehead long enough to make me relax into his lips. Then he cupped my face, tilting it toward him. His eyes searched mine. “You call me if you need me. I’ll be there. Okay?”
“Okay.”
He narrowed his eyes.
“I promise.”
Corey waited a beat, then nodded slowly. Pressed his lips gently against mine, then leveled his gaze with my eyes again. Quirked a brow. "I'm serious," the expression said.
Shrugging, I nodded in answer. "I'll call you."
He squeezed my shoulder. With a quick look around, he headed out the door.
It felt like warmth left with him.
I turned around. Folded my arms and stared at the family who’d rather talk to each other than to me the last few days. The food, in scattered dishes across the long table. The sympathy cards, which my mom left scattered every surface of the living room. Flowers everywhere.
“Cinnamon roll?” The syrupy sweet voice made me cringe.
Kara. Fucking Kara. How did I not see her coming?
Turning toward her, I stared at the moist rolls, the drizzled frosting. “No, thank you.”
“You saw her the same day, right?”
“What?” I looked up and that pale blue, icy stare whittled me to the bone.
“Just after you left, she… well.” Her eyes narrowed, then she shrugged. Arched an eyebrow and licked her lips. “I’ll miss her. Every part of her.”
Rage burned in my gut. “I’m sure you will.”
A moment passed, neither of us breaking the gaze. Then she took a breath, her eyebrows furrowing as if she felt pity for me.
“Mmm. Just stay in your lane, Adrienne. Wouldn’t want you to get hurt too.” Kara leaned in. Wrapped her free arm around me before I could think, gave me a gentle squeeze, then walked back to her parents without a second glance.
My mouth dropped open, brain mush. I stared after her for a moment. Then glanced around.
No one looked back.
Clearing my throat, I zeroed in on the front door. The side panels’ drapes glowed with afternoon sun, beckoning me toward the light. Away from everyone who didn't care about me. Away from my cousin and her strangulating prescence.
Fuck it. It's not like anyone will miss me.
I walked across the living room and let myself out. Exhaling on the front stoop, I stared up at the blue sky. The puffy cumulus clouds. Took another deep breath and let the fresh air relax my body. I reached inside my purse for my car keys when my hand closed around something cylindrical. Familiar, but not. Freezing, I held it for a moment before bringing it out.
No.
An amber prescription bottle.
A pill rattled inside.
Oxy. I shoved it back in my purse. Looked around, but no one was outside this morning. No one mowing their lawn or parking their car. Just the droning growl of the highway a half mile away.
How did… I turned slowly, staring at my house. There was only one person who hated me enough to set me up for failure and had access to my person since I'd been in the house. One. Bitch.
I heard a car drive up behind me. The engine died. Two doors slammed shut.
“Miss Cusack?”
I turned around, not recognizing the voice. Two men in long sleeved button up shirts with ties walked toward me. One looked like he might pass the physical fitness test. The other, maybe 20 years ago.
The fit one flashed his badge, then motioned it at his partner, lagging up the sidewalk. “Detectives Hall and Wilson. We’d like to ask you a few questions about your aunt, Cecilia Mobley. Would you mind coming down to the precinct?”
Every millimeter of my flesh felt frostbitten.
“What… what’s going on?” I adjusted my purse strap. The tiny prescription bottle suddenly weighed more than my car.
“Routine follow up, ma’am.”
Staring at their grim faces, I remembered every time I was harassed by cops. Every time people I knew were taken in under ‘routine follow ups’ and I didn’t see them again.
“No problem, Officers.” My heart slammed in my chest. Hands clammy. Heat flushed my neck and I willed myself to stay calm. “But I have some errands to run. Mind if I follow you in my own vehicle?”
A car passed by. One of the officers glanced behind him, then turned back around. Looked at my mom’s house behind me and back to my face. He chewed on gum like a cow on cud. His expression was dead.
“Follow us, Miss Cusack. Don’t get lost.”
*****
I was jammed in a metal chair in the corner of a tiny box of a room, everything cold and hard. Cinder blocked white walls, the cliche tinted mirror wall, a yellowing drop down ceiling. The table was a small rectangle, something to lean an elbow on but not hide behind.
“Miss Cusack, I noticed you didn’t bring your purse. Any particular reason?” the older cop, Officer Wilson, prompted as he sat down opposite me. He crossed his leg, ankle to knee, and let his hands rest in his lap.
Breath caught in my throat. The single Oxy in my possession pounded in my mind.
You’re sober. A reaction is what they want. Don’t give it to them. You’ve worked too hard to get where you are to allow yourself to fall for a set up. Anger surged through my veins, burned away the fear. Quelled my boiling blood. I made myself look the detective in the eyes. You’re better than that. You’re better than them. Show them.
“Some women don’t mind purses, but all I think about is how heavy it is on my shoulder and if I carry it too long it might throw off my gait. Pain would make me want Oxys more than ever.”
His eyebrows raised a centimeter, the only change in his expression.
Yeah, they know about my past.
“I won’t go back to that life.” I pulled my soft, knit sweater on. Tossed my hair over my shoulders and clasped my hands in my lap to mirror Officer Wilson. “Now, may I ask what this is really all about?”
Cici’s secret business nagged my memory.
Wilson nearly smiled. The other just stood there, eyes on me.
“Normally at this point, I’d tell you all about yourself and watch you squirm, but you cut to the chase. Put it out there before we did and owned it all first. I respect that. So I’ll be frank with you. As we told you earlier, this is about your aunt, Ms. Cecilia Mobley. We understand you were the last to see her before she died, yes?” He took a notepad from his inner jacket pocket, showing me a glimpse of the gun in his shoulder holster, then checked his notes. His black and grey eyebrows raised.
I shrugged. “There’s no way of knowing. Most of us stopped by at some time or another. She had cancer. Terminal.”
“What time did you leave her home?”
My mind went blank.
No fucking idea… wait. Corey texted me after I left! As soon as the thought occurred to me, I remembered my phone was in the car. With the Oxy. They’ll want the time, the cell, the message, and they’ll see the bottle. Fuck.
“Miss Cusack?”
“I… I left my phone at my house accidentally, but my boyfriend texted me around that time. I can tell you the actual time when I get to it, but other than that I’ll have to guesstimate.”
The man across from me nodded. “Fair enough. Do you have a ballpark we can work off of?”
“Officers, I don’t know that I understand. The ballpark estimate is before…” A lump scraped and filled my throat. I swallowed, felt like I was walking a tight rope in heels. “Before it happened. What are you investigating?”
“Murder. We're detectives, not officers,” the cop standing murmured.
“What?” Goosebumps raised on my skin. Both cops stared me down. “I… I was told she killed herself.”
“It’s our job to investigate.”
Licking my lips, I willed myself to be still. To think before I spoke. Murder.
I propped my elbow on the little table. Hid my face behind my hand and rubbed my forehead. Exhaled.
Kara. It was the only thing that made sense. Money. Power. Sex was just another power struggle she probably continually won over my aunt, and Cici was weakening by the day. Bitch probably was salivating for her turn at the morally corrupt business.
“Jesus Christ,” I whispered.
“What are you thinking, Miss Cusack?”
Snapping my hand from my face, I focused on the detective standing. On his white shirt, olive colored tie. Encouraged anger to fire inside me, burn in my veins. I stood, thankfully balanced on my heels, and tucked my hair behind my ears. “You mean to tell me you suspected someone killed her and you released her body without a word about an investigation?”
He straightened his posture, beady brown eyes narrowing at the corners.
“Aunt Cici understood me more than anyone in this world. She found me and got me clean. Believed in me when I’d fucked over everyone else so badly they didn’t care if I lived or died, and neither did I.” I stepped closer, inches from him. Saw all the little hairs in his nose. “Either she killed herself or someone did it for her, but you are barking up the wrong fucking tree right now.”
“Ahem.” Something rustled to my left. The older detective. “Miss Cusack, we’re going to need you to explain this.”
