Blurring the Line (9 page)

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Authors: Kierney Scott

BOOK: Blurring the Line
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“There was no need. It was clear at that point. She has Alzheimer’s. You know it, I know it, her doctors know it. Everyone knows it except Mom.”

Beth’s breath caught. Her throat burned. Alzheimer’s. They had never said the word before. They alluded to it, but hid it carefully, always talking in terms of Mom’s memory and Mom’s coordination. But they never said Alzheimer’s because words have power and there was no going back once the problem was named. “Are they sure? I have been reading about diseases that are sometimes mistaken for…that.” She didn’t mean to whisper but her voice failed her.

“Yes. She has an official diagnosis.”

“Are you sure? It’s all so sudden. She was fine last time I saw her.”

“No she wasn’t, Beth. She got lost on the way to the airport—”

“She had just worked a double shift.”

“She’s not fine and she hasn’t been fine in a long time. You’re just not here to see it.”

Beth winced. The words were like a kick in the gut. She opened her mouth to speak but nothing came out. She took in long slow breaths. The tears were coming faster now, but she would not let Paige know she was crying. She couldn’t speak because her voice would crack and betray her. Every choice Beth had made since she graduated from college had been for her family, but apparently they weren’t the right choices. They needed her and she was a thousand miles away.

Instantly Paige realised what she’d said. “That’s not what I mean, Beth, I’m sorry. Don’t be like that. I am so grateful for everything you do. We both are. I love you, Beth. You’re our strong one.”

Beth fought the urge to laugh. She wasn’t strong; she wasn’t even that great at faking strength any more. She rubbed her eyes frantically, telling herself to get it together.

“Beth, are you still there?”

Beth cleared her throat. “Yeah I’m here. It’s just my allergies are acting up. I seem to be allergic to the Lone Star State.” She tried to joke but her voice lacked any merriment. Beth shook off the sadness that clung to her. She could deal with this; she could deal with anything. She just needed to face it the same way she faced things at work. She would focus on facts and not let herself think about the people involved, her people. “OK, what’s next?”

“Maybe try to get her on Disability. I don’t know, whatever gets her insurance.”

“What? Did Max cut her benefits?” Beth could barely control the anger in her voice. Her mom’s insurance plan was crappy at the best of times but at least she had a policy.

“Beth, Mom lost her job.”

“What?! When did that happen? Max can’t fire her for a medical condition. There are laws.” The anger was rising in her. If Max wanted a fight on his hands, he would get one. Ruth Thomson had worked for Max’s chain of diners for almost thirty years. Was there no loyalty in this world?

“He had to fire her, Beth. She can’t work any more. She doesn’t know the menu. She gets confused and then she gets mean.”

“No!” She didn’t mean to shout but her indignation got the best of her. Her mother was never mean. Ruth Thomson was the kindest woman on the planet, and that was not just a daughter’s bias talking, her mom was loving and gentle and considerate of everyone. Even if she did have Alzheimer’s and did get confused from time to time, nothing would change the person she was. At her core Ruth Thomson was kind: no disease would change that.

“You haven’t seen her in a while. Things have gone downhill.”

Beth couldn’t tell if Paige was having a go at her about not visiting often enough. She had not been to California since Christmas but that was only because she did not have a single day of vacation time to spare. She always saved her days to come out for two weeks at Christmas. It wasn’t ideal but it was the best she could do. “I speak to Mom every day. I call her before work. It’s not like I am entirely out of the loop here. I’m in Texas, not Mars.”

“That’s right. You call her every morning. She is good in the morning. Call her now, Beth, and see the person that answers the phone.”

Beth shook her head. The truth settled painfully in the pit of her stomach. She didn’t want to call her mom now. “What are we going to do?”

“I’m not sure. She can’t live on her own any more. I’m going to move in with her. She needs someone there to make sure she eats and bills get paid.”

“She agreed to go to San Diego with you?” Surprise was the mildest of Beth’s emotions. She never thought she would see the day her mom would leave Northern California. She always needed to be near Folsom for her weekly visits to see her dad. Bile rose in the back of her throat when she thought of her dad, or the “sperm donor” as she preferred to think of him.

“No, I decided to move back in with her.”

“No!” Beth shouted. “What about the specialist programme in San Diego?”

“I’ve been offered a job at Foster’s.”

“The crop and doc guy?! You said his practice was a joke. You’re totally against that. Paige, no! You’re better than that.”

“And you’re better than the DEA but we’re a family so you do what you got to do, right?” Her sister’s voice had lost its usual sparkle.

“No, Paige. We’ve worked too hard. I’m not going to let you throw it all away.”

“Don’t start getting dramatic. I’m not throwing it away. I will still be a vet. I just will be working with smaller animals than I expected. And chopping bits of them off… But you get that. Your dream wasn’t the DEA.”

“Paige Lynne Thomson. We’re not talking about me, we’re talking about you.” Beth switched from one foot to the other like a boxer preparing for a fight. “No, scratch that. We’re talking about me too. I took a job with the DEA because it paid our bills because my dream, yes mine, is to see you become a vet. So don’t you dare go throwing that away, or God as my witness… I don’t know what. All I know is I’ve had a shitty last couple of days and you better not pile anything else on me.”

“I love you, Beth.” Her sister’s voice cracked.

“I love you too, Paige. Why are you crying? Don’t you dare cry on me! I’m barely holding it together here. You know…with my allergies and everything.”

“I’m crying because your dream is to see me achieve my dream. You’re a good sister. No, you’re just a good person.”

Beth’s throat burned. She didn’t feel like a good person. She had left too much to her baby sister, allowed Paige to shoulder most of the burden alone. But that was going to change. Financial support wasn’t enough. “Promise me you’ll go to San Diego when you graduate.”

“But someone has to take care of Mom. I need—”

Beth cut her off. “You need to listen to your older, and wiser, and bossier sister. I will take care of Mom. Your job it just to finish school and start your dream job on the beach with the surfers and sailors and whatever else they have in San Diego.”

“Mexican food. They have great Mexican food.”

“Paige, if you want great Mexican food move into my spare room. Texas has the best Mexican food outside of Mexico. And we have animals that need vets, lots of them.” She was only partially teasing. She would love for her little sister and her mom to move to Texas so she could look after them and be a family again. No matter how old her sister got, she would always be her baby sister. “Promise me you’ll take the internship.”

“I can’t.”

“Don’t be stupid. Of course you can. We’ll figure it out. I just heard today there is a promotion in the Sacramento office. I’m a shoo-in. I can come home and take care of Mom. Everything is going to be fine.” It was a bald-face lie but Beth felt no shame in telling it. She would tell her sister anything to keep her from giving up her dream. The truth was that the only way she would get a job at her pay grade in the Sacramento office was if someone died or retired. And they were a surprisingly sprightly and long-serving bunch. “Just promise me you’ll take the internship.”

“You’re coming home?” The joy in Paige’s voice made her heart hurt.

Beth closed her eyes. She was digging her own grave, Paige would be pissed when she realised Beth was lying to her. But she would be pissed in Southern California, practising neurology on four-legged creatures, what she had dreamed of for more years than Beth could remember. Beth silently counted to five before she answered. “It is just a formality at this point, you know the bureaucracy. So much paperwork.”

The rest of the conversation was a blur, with Beth only registering a few words from every sentence. She was too busy planning her return to California. There was no job at her level, she wasn’t even sure if she could take a pay cut to get back in the Sacramento office. She might be able to manage something in the San Francisco office but that would mean a 200-mile round-trip drive every day. Or she could look at the Fresno office. She shook her head at the thought; there was a reason Fresno was known as the armpit of California. But then again, beggars couldn’t be choosers and all that crap.

Beth finished the conversation and put down the phone. What was she going to do? She pulled out her laptop and starting looking up decent places to live between Fresno and Sacramento. Maybe her mom wouldn’t object to moving away from Folsom, if they split the difference. A twinge of resentment niggled at her, but it was immediately replaced with a tidal wave of guilt. She had no right to be annoyed. Her mom didn’t choose to be sick. God she was a shitty daughter. Her mom had a debilitating disease and Beth had the audacity to feel inconvenienced.

Beth looked at the website set up by the city of Fresno to encourage tourism. What a colossal waste of money that was! No one in their right mind would go to Fresno by choice. Unless of course you had no choice because your ill mother refused to move too far away from your incarcerated father. Suddenly Beth realised the one silver lining of her mother’s Alzheimer’s was that she may eventually forget about the deadbeat she claimed to love.

“God I’m a shitty person,” Beth said aloud. She was actually looking forward to her mother’s illness progressing so she would have a clean break from her father once and for all. Beth hung her head. She did not bother wiping away her tears because as soon as she wiped one away, another fell in its place.

***

Torres stopped when he saw her. From the darkness of the sidewalk he could see her sitting at her kitchen counter, working on her laptop. It was too far to see if her face was contorted in concentration, but he was certain it was. In his mind he saw her with two deep lines between her eyes.

She was alive.

Unexpected relief washed over him. He tried to shrug it off, but he could not shake the feeling of gratitude. It couldn’t be because he cared about her as an individual, he just didn’t want to be responsible for another death. He already needed a lifetime to make amends for his transgressions. At least she wasn’t going to be one of them.

He paused before he knocked on her door. He still had time to leave; cross the border into Nuevo Laredo and never look back…but her death would always be there in his mind, chasing him. He had a shit chance of finding peace as it was. He could not let her die too, even if it meant leaving Martinez to the DEA. He closed his eyes and apologised to Moses. He had been his best friend, would he understand?

There wasn’t time to think any more. It was time for action. Torres pounded on the black gloss panel of the front door.

A few seconds later, Beth opened the front door. The widening of her eyes told him she did not know who she was opening the door to. He clenched his jaw at the thought.

“Hi,” Beth said, clearly confused by his presence on her doorstep. But no one was more surprised than him.

Her dark blonde hair was pulled back in a ponytail. Her eyes were bloodshot and rimmed with scarlet circles, which served to intensify the pale blue colour of her eyes.

“Do you always open your door to strangers?”

Beth shook her head. “I thought you were my neighbour, Anna.” She looked past him to the darkened street. “What’s wrong? Why are you here?”

Torres pushed past her, turned on his heel and closed and bolted the door behind him before moving to the kitchen where he turned off the lights and let down the blinds of the large picture window that faced the street.

“Is your back door locked?” he demanded.

“Yes of course. But what are you doing.”

Torres did not stop to answer. He moved to the living room, again closing the curtains and turning off the lights, before checking the locks on the remaining windows.

Beth followed closely behind him. “Torres, what in the hell is going on?” she demanded, her voice rising.

Finally when the house was secure and darkened, he turned to her. “You need to get out of here; it’s not safe.”

“What are you talking about? Is it Flores? Did he make you? Is your cover blown?”

Torres shook his head, forgetting the room was black. “No, worse, Los Treintas”

Beth didn’t say anything. He wasn’t sure if she had heard him. He needed to see her face again to know what she was thinking. “Do you have any candles?”

“In my dining room.”

Torres followed the sound of her footsteps.

Beth struck a match and lit the two taper candles at the centre of the large oak table.

“Tell me what’s going on. How did the Treintas make you?”

Torres shook his head. There was no easy way to tell someone a hit had been taken out on them. No doubt she would cry, maybe scream. Christ, he didn’t do emotion, his or other people’s. He reached into his back pocket, and paused before he handed her the photo Flores had received. “Maybe I should have brought M&M’s. You might need them.”

Beth reached for the photo. The furrow between her eyes deepened as she examined the picture. She dropped the photo to the table. “This needs to be dusted for prints. Who else has touched it?”

“Just Flores.”

“Flores?” Beth scrutinised the photo. “Could he have taken it?”

Torres ran a hand over his shaved head as he considered the possibility for the first time. “No…I don’t think so. I doubt it.” Suddenly he wasn’t sure. He wasn’t sure of much any more. Surely Flores would have killed him at his apartment if he had made him…unless he wanted Torres to lead him to Beth: two birds with one stone. Shit. Had he led Flores right to her? His gut clenched at the thought.

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