The Sinners' Garden Page 15

Judi laughed. “Heather, you’re only thirty-five.”

  “And I’m a cop,” she said. “I’ve never been married. Can’t have kids. I live alone and there are no prospects of any of those things changing.”

  “You could always quit your job and move in with Rip.”

  “Shut up.”

  “Oh, please,” Judi said. “You two should just get over yourselves and start dating again. What have you got to lose?”

  “My job, for starters. What would the department say? And what would people think of a cop who dates an ex-con?”

  “Not sure,” Judi said. “Why don’t you ask a few people at the department?”

  “After letting the Summer Santa run? After screwing up my new squad car? They’re already about to fire me. Are you crazy?”

  “Maybe a little,” Judi said. “But the more I think about it, I’m starting to think that we are all a little crazy.”

  Heather straightened up in her chair. She wasn’t exactly sure what Judi meant, but something about what she said made her feel better.

  “What do you mean?” Heather asked.

  Judi laughed again. “I’ve been thinking about some of the things we’ve been talking about. Like what’s been happening and what Andy’s been saying. Mostly how we don’t listen and how we ignore the truth. We ignore it and try to move forward to lead that perfect life, that TV-life that we think is normal. And you know what I think?”

  “What?”

  “There is no such thing as normal,” Judi said, shrugging. “Maybe I’m wrong, but if there is, it sure wasn’t me and Todd.”

  “Ain’t me either,” Heather said. “You ever figure out what was going through your head when we were over at McLouth, looking at those flowers?”

  “No,” Judi said, laughing again. “But I just know God is trying to tell me something, through Andy and through that garden. But when I was out there, it was kinda like God was right there in the flowers and I didn’t need the middle man. The more I looked at the garden, the more I felt I needed to know what He was trying to tell me. Right then and there.”

  “You’ll figure it out.”

  “Why don’t you date anybody?”

  “That was kind of random,” Heather said. “Why don’t you?”

  “I asked first,” Judi said. “I know why you don’t. You still love Rip after all these years.”

  “Nah. I’m still hung up on Kevin.”

  The two shared a good laugh, then Heather sobered. “You know something, Judi? I don’t know if Rip and I ever had what it took. We went out for two years and he never told me he loved me.”

  “So you’re curious about round two?”

  Heather thought about it.

  Rip is a former drug dealer.

  He lives in a beat-up single-wide.

  He can barely support himself.

  He drives a Pacer, for Pete’s sake.

  Heather thought about what Judi said about normal. Rip was everything but normal, but she couldn’t deny it. Loving him just felt right.

  “Yeah,” she said, tapping Judi on the arm. “I’d give it another round.”

  Judi turned to her and smiled. “I knew it.”

  Heather smiled back. “But if you dare tell him that . . .”

  “You’ll what?” Judi laughed.

  “Seriously,” Heather said.

  “Okay, okay.” Judi laughed again. “Your secret is safe with me.”

  SIXTEEN

  She was sitting at the kitchen table in Walter Hart’s house, watching her father and Mr. Hart. They each had their Bibles in front of them and Mr. Hart was smiling and nodding his head patiently, tapping on Dad’s Bible at a verse as if he was trying to explain it. Dad nodded back like he understood and then spoke words she couldn’t hear. She asked him to repeat himself, but he didn’t. He didn’t even look at her and the two men just went about their business as if she weren’t even there. Heather’s heart began to race. She wasn’t sure how long she had been in the kitchen and it occurred to her that there was no sound. There also weren’t any colors. And then she noticed something else.

  Mr. Hart smiled again . . . and nodded his head patiently again . . . and tapped on Dad’s Bible again . . .

  How many times had she watched them do the exact same thing over and over?

  Heather stood and put her hand on her father’s shoulder. He turned and seemed to look right through her, as if she were invisible. He smiled and she felt herself smile back. But then Dad’s smile slowly disappeared and he leaned to his left and looked behind her.

  Heather slowly turned around and the man in the black mask was there. This time he wasn’t holding a brown paper bag. He had a gun and was pointing it right at the back of Walter Hart’s head.

  Heather drew her pistol and quickly squeezed off two rounds at the man’s chest. He didn’t flinch. He just lowered his gun. Heather wondered why she hadn’t heard the shots and realized she was only pointing her finger at the man. He just stared at her for a few seconds and then put the gun back up next to Mr. Hart’s head and pulled the trigger. The shot echoed in her ears, reverberated in her chest—

  Heather sat up straight on her couch, her heart still hammering. She closed her eyes, rubbed her face, and gradually caught her breath.

  After a second, Heather knew she wasn’t alone.

  Slowly she opened her eyes and saw him, standing across the living room.

  Worse, he was between her and her gun, stashed in her bedroom nightstand.

  For a long moment, they stared at each other, Heather’s heart pounding. Why was he here? What did he want?

  He blinked slowly behind the black mask, then held his hands up, showing that he wasn’t armed.

  “You here to turn yourself in?” Heather asked, the vehemence of her voice surprising herself. “What’s your name?”

  He didn’t answer. He only pointed at the coffee table in front of her. It was another brown paper bag.

  Then he held his right hand up in the air and she knew what he was going to do before he did it.

  He made the sign of the cross.

  And then backed away and walked out the door.

  SEVENTEEN

  Shall I tell him it’s official police business?” the secretary asked.

  “Do that,” Heather answered with a smile.

  She couldn’t think of the woman’s name, even though she knew her face. She’d only been in the factory one time since she and Kevin had broken up over ten years ago, but she knew it was the same woman who worked for Kevin’s dad.

  Heather guessed that official police business wasn’t announced over the phone. She watched as the woman knocked on Kevin’s door before sticking her head in his office. She then opened the door a little wider and stepped aside for Heather.

  “What’d I do now?” Kevin said, smiling and showing those perfectly white teeth of his. Not only was he the richest guy in town, he was still one of the best looking.

  “It’s been a slow week,” Heather said. “And I’m working a double shift today, so it leaves me lots of extra time for a little police harassment.” A little time to figure out how in the world you got into my apartment last night to leave $7,500. Oddly enough, it was the same amount she figured she needed to go back and finish school. The exact amount she had put on a prayer card at church. Prayer cards Kevin Hart read every single week.

  “C’mon in,” he said, leaning back on his heels and holding his arm out in invitation.

  Kevin’s office was state-of-the-art everything. Hardwood flooring that was impeccably clean. Flat-screen televisions on separate walls, set to different channels, that each had stock market quotes silently flowing across their bottoms. A glass case that was full of sports memorabilia. And a fully stocked mahogany bar to match his desk.

  “Pretty spiffy office,” Heather said, sitting at one of the two chairs that were centered in front of Kevin’s desk. “Looks a little different from the way your dad had it.”

  “Thanks,” he said, pointing
a remote at the two televisions to turn them off. He then aimed it over his shoulder and did a no-look click that had the blinds automatically open, slowly exposing a view of Lake Erie that was second only to Judi’s back porch.

  She noticed that his desk was a little messy. This was unusual for a neat freak like Kevin. “Looks like you’ve been busy.”

  “Swamped,” he said. “We are still working on an acquisition, along with a bazillion other things.”

  “Like little Marjo’s fund-raiser?” Heather said. “It’s nice of you and Carrie to put that together. Seems like she isn’t doing too well.”

  “I guess not,” he said. “Looks like surgery is gonna be the last resort. She needs our prayers.”

  Heather could see the latest copy of the Benning Weekly on his desk. It had been neatly folded to the article about the “Summer Santa.” Well now, that’s interesting . . .

  “What do you think about that?” she asked, pointing to the newspaper. “Pretty weird, huh?”

  “I guess so,” he said dismissively. He picked the paper up and she heard it hit the trash can below his desk.

  She gave him a suspicious smile. “Don’t want to talk about that?”

  “I’ll talk about it,” he said quickly, giving her a confused look. “Why?”

  “Oh, it’s all right,” she said. “I was just curious what you thought.” Actually, she was thinking about the sign of the cross he gave her in her living room.

  “Can’t dislike a guy for trying to help people out,” he said, leaning back in his chair and looking her straight in the eye. Was he trying to intimidate her?

  “I agree,” she said, leaning forward. “But he is still breaking the law.”

  “Well, I’m sure one of Benning’s finest will catch him,” he said. He paused. “What brings you by, Heather?”

  His question startled her. They’d actually been getting somewhere . . . “I need to talk to Rip about something.” It was a lie. “You mind me chatting with him while he’s working?”

  Kevin paused. “It can’t wait till quitting time?” He gave her a rueful look. “Company policy and all.”

  She knew he wasn’t buying her story, and latched onto the first thing that came to her mind. “It’s about Andy. Maybe he can take a break?”

  “Andy, huh?” He rose and came around the desk and casually leaned on it. “If it leads to you figuring out how Andy thinks he has ‘searched me and knows me,’ come back and enlighten me, will you?”

  “Will do,” Heather said, standing. She studied Kevin, imagining him in all black. “Andy said something strange about a photo of our dads.”

  “Our dads?” He cocked his head, then lifted his hands. “Not that Andy’s short of odd sayings of late, right?”

  “But everything else has been directed to a person. You, Judi, and Rip. This was about a specific picture.”

  “What’d he say?”

  “ ‘They are able.’ ”

  “Huh?” Kevin said. “I don’t mean to be indelicate, Heather. But do you think Doc Strater has what it takes to examine the kid? Any chance he needs to head to a psych ward?”

  Heather bristled. “Andy’s not crazy. This is . . . something different.”

  “I’ll say.” Hart rolled his eyes and sighed. “Look, I’m sorry. I’m just not really in a mood to think about our dads, okay? It’s too . . . painful.”

  “Okay,” she said, regretting bringing it up. His pain seemed to elicit her own. “Sorry. Let me know if you see the Summer Santa, will ya? Chief Reynolds will have our hides if we don’t collar him soon.”

  He stood and put his hands in his pockets. A funny little smile etched the corners of his mouth.

  “Will do,” he said. “And don’t go shooting a guy that’s just trying to help somebody out.”

  No secretarial clearance was necessary for Heather to visit Rip. When she walked by his “office,” the door to the custodial closet was wide open, and he was sitting at a desk with a piece of cold, leftover pizza hanging out of his mouth and his Bible between his hands.

  “A little early dinner?” Heather asked.

  “Heather!” he mumbled, the pizza still in his mouth. He marked his place in the Bible with a pencil. “Cop a seat. No pun intended.”

  “Thanks,” she said. “You heard from Judi today?”

  “You mean the daily despair report?”

  “Be nice, Rip.”

  “I actually haven’t heard from her, even though I’ve rung her cell all day.” He held up his phone and then put it on top of the Bible. “Maybe she’s just out and about. Went shopping in the city or something.”

  “Judi doesn’t go out and about by herself.”

  “Long shot, I know,” he said with a small smile. “Hey, I’ve just been scouring the Internet on my phone, trying to see what Andy meant with the whole ‘they are able’ thing. I’m pulling up a big donut. I can’t find any reference that makes sense. I wanted to see if Judi had thought of anything.”

  “I was just talking to Kevin about that . . . Well, sort of.”

  “I’m sure that went well,” Rip said with a little laugh. “I’ve never heard Kevin talk about his dad’s death, and he’s certainly not a big fan of Andy’s newfound ability. What’d he say?”

  “Nothing much,” Heather said. She fiddled with the corner of his pizza box. “I don’t talk much about my dad either. Maybe Kevin’s like me . . . it just hurts too bad.”

  “You been prayin’ about it, like we talked about?”

  Rip’s question saddened her. She hadn’t prayed about it, and she felt like she was somehow cheating her father.

  “I just wish I knew where he was right now,” she said. “I know it sounds weird, but I can’t get him off my mind.”

  Rip nodded as if he understood.

  Heather imagined her father in the best place. Just the thought of it took a little of the weight off her shoulders she’d been carrying around since the night he died.

  “Take care, you guys.”

  They both turned toward the door. It was Kevin. He came off the stairs from the third floor and was on his way out.

  “See ya, boss,” Rip said.

  “Bye, Kevin,” Heather added.

  Kevin was out of sight when Rip said, “When you gonna arrest him for busting into people’s houses?”

  “Shut up,” she hissed, looking over her shoulder to make sure Kevin was gone. Five thousand in grocery cards. Three-plus thousand in cash for Becky. More than seven thousand for her. Regardless, one thing was for sure . . . Kevin could certainly afford it.

  Heather wasn’t going to tell Rip about last night. He’d freak out that the guy had broken into her house, insist on sleeping over or something. And that wouldn’t be good, for a number of reasons.

  Rip raised his brows, as if considering her words, and Heather glanced back at the stairwell, thinking again about what she’d seen. The newspaper that Kevin had trashed had been tucked under his arm when he walked by.

  EIGHTEEN

  Judi wasn’t sure how long she’d been sitting on the bank of The Frank and Poet Canal. Her elbows were resting on her knees and she was cradling her head in the palms of her hands, staring at the first of the four sections that made up the flower garden. She had felt it the first time she’d seen the garden when she was over on the McLouth side. Then she felt it again when she and Heather returned here to the bank. Now it was something she recognized, welcomed. That little tickling feeling at the center of her gut had convinced her. There was no doubt in her mind that the first section of the garden was there specifically for her. And why did that dark little cloud that always seemed to follow her disappear when she looked at the flowers?

  She heard someone walking up from behind her and instinctively knew it was Rip. He’d called her several times that day, but she didn’t answer because she just didn’t feel like talking. Not to him. Not to anyone. That’s when she knew she needed to come here, to the canal. To the garden.

  She didn’t both
er turning around, and she could hear him getting closer.

  “I was worried when I couldn’t find you today,” he said. “Have you been out here all day?”

  She didn’t answer. She was thinking about how Todd used to wade out in the canal, encouraging little Andy to jump in and join him.

  “I’ve got some Mexican food back at the house,” Rip said, sitting down next to her. “We gotta make sure Andy doesn’t give any to Milo. Last time he threw up on his yellow blanket and farted for two months.”

  She didn’t say anything and Rip waved his hand back and forth in front of her face.

  “Hellooo,” he said. “Anybody home?”

  “Sorry,” she said. “We don’t have to worry about Milo and the Mexican food. He took off last night and still hasn’t come back.”

  “Ahh,” Rip said. “Is that what has you upset? He’s probably courting some poodle on the other side of town.”

  “You’re probably right.”

  “Then why so sad?” Rip said. “Tough day at the theater, Mrs. Lincoln?”

  She sighed and lifted her head from her hands. “I’ve been sitting out here practically half the day, trying to make sense of my life. I’ve been thinking about a lot of things. But mostly about something Heather said.”

  “’Bout what?”

  “The thing about me not being happy unless I’m unhappy.”

  “She didn’t mean anything by that,” Rip said, running to Heather’s defense.

  “No. It’s true, Rip.”

  Rip had always been a world-class smart aleck, but lately he’d been pretty good at knowing when to keep quiet.

  Judi continued, “I’ve also been thinking about what Andy told you and Heather. That we haven’t been listening. I was supposed to hear that. When you told me what he said, it was like a tiny light went on somewhere in the back of my mind. And it’s been getting a little brighter all day.”

  Rip’s smile made her smile too.

  “It’s so true,” she said. She paused and stared at the ground, shaking her head. “I haven’t been listening.”

  “I promise you, I am listening,” Rip said. “I love hearing you say stuff like this.”