Touching Smoke (10 page)

“Why did you break the light?” I asked, closing and locking the door.

“Didn’t want anyone seeing me bring a body into the room,” he said simply. “It might have given people the wrong impression.”

I hadn’t thought of that. “Thank you,” I whispered, moving quietly to stand beside him next to the bed.

 He nodded, turning away. “You shouldn’t wait too long,” he murmured.

Then, without another word, he went over to the chair next to the window and all but became a part of the furnishings. He didn’t speak or move, but sat quietly in the shadows. I didn’t care. He could have left for all that mattered. But it was nice that he hadn’t, that I wouldn’t be alone. I really didn’t want to be alone.

Ignoring the figure in the corner, I grabbed the blanket from the foot of the bed and covered my mom, concealing the singed state of her front. I brushed away her hair off her face and sat beside her, taking her cold hand in both of mine.

I don’t hate you,
I wanted to tell her, but the words were paste in my throat, clinging and refusing to dislodge. Guilt ate a hole in my chest as I was reminded again-and-again, of how she had died with me blaming her, telling her she hadn’t been enough. I wished I could tell her it wasn’t true. That I didn’t blame her. I wished I could tell her how sorry I was for everything. I should have let her explain. If I had listened… she wouldn’t have had to follow me and… it would have been me, not her. This was my fault. She was gone because of me and I had no idea what I was supposed to do now. I was alone.

“I’m sorry,” I croaked. “I’m sorry.” The words repeated again-and-again, a mantra of grief.

My arms slipped around her stiff neck and I buried my face into her shoulder, soaking the material there with tears as I sobbed for forgiveness. I didn’t know how long I sat there, cradling the only person I had in the world, but the sun was coming up when Isaiah touched my shoulder lightly. He didn’t have to say it. I knew.

It was time to let go.

“Call your friend,” I murmured, head full of cotton, full of that icky feeling one always got when they had a cold.

He slipped out of the motel room, not returning for an hour. Then appearing, accompanied by a small, mousy man with too much nose and not enough hair. He wore a white lab coat and stood with a hunch on his left shoulder.

He eyed me through his silver framed glasses. Then his watery eyes moved to my mom. “I’ll need to take her,” he said simply, without a hint of remorse or sympathy. “I’ll call you in an hour.”

“Take her where?” I demanded, tightening my hold on her hand.

“To get cremated,” he answered uncertainly. “That’s what you want, isn’t it? To keep the ashes? I can do burials too, but it’ll cost you.”

“Edgar!” Isaiah growled.

The man blinked his big, round eyes, genuinely baffled. “What?”

I shook my head. “No, that’s fine.”

“Great, then you need to let me do my job. Get out.”

I ignored the curt command as I reached over and touched Mom’s face lightly. “I love you,” I whispered, brushing a kiss to her cheek. “Goodbye.”

Letting go was the hardest thing I’d ever had to do. Stepping back and letting Edger take my place had me in tears before I even reached the door. Every step cut through me like blows from a machete, hacking off pieces of my soul. The torture of walking away from the only person who had ever meant anything to me could never be explained. There were no words. That pain would burn inside me until the day I died, and longer.

There was no escaping it.

“I want answers.” We reached the Impala. I turned to Isaiah. “And you’re going to give them to me, along with the names of the people responsible for killing my mother.”

“Coffee.” The soft clink of ceramic on wood settled on my shaky nerves, making me grit my teeth.

I might have thanked the waitress. I wasn’t sure. I didn’t remember her walking away either, but she was gone and I was left with a drink I didn’t even want. Not that it stopped me from wrapping my chilled fingers around it, leeching at the heat seeping through; I needed the smooth, aromatic scent that morning, even if it hurt like swallowing broken glass.

My pale face danced across the rippling surface, and I would have winced at my disheveled and drawn reflection, if I could have mustered the desire to care.

I resembled something that had just crawled out of the sewer. My hair had come loose from its braid and hung in knotted tendrils around my face and down my back. My face was sooty from being pummeled by fireballs, streaked with sweat and tears and I had a gash on my lip that I don’t recall getting. It was honestly a wonder that they even allowed me in the diner; it also explained why everyone kept tossing me odd glances.

“Tell me,” I said to the silent figure across from me, never taking my eyes off the drink between my hands.

“You should get something to eat.”

It took more effort than it should to lift my gaze to his face. “I don’t want food. I want answers. You promised.”

He regarded me intently, long, agile fingers swirling the straw jetting out of the milkshake in front of him. A burger, fully loaded, and fries, drowning in chili, sat untouched beside it.

“And I will, but first, you eat.” He nudged the plate towards me.

I ignored it. “I want answers! That’s all I want.”

He sighed, sitting back in the booth, making the leather squeak beneath him. “A compromise then?” I waited for him to continue, but only because I had no strength to argue. “You want answers and I want you to eat,” he poked his plate again, pushing it closer to me. “You eat, and I’ll answer any questions you have.”

It didn’t look appealing at all, but I couldn’t afford to go into one of my hunger binges just then, not in front of him. He had already seen me scrape bottom, any lower and I’d probably just die of humiliation. The last thing I needed was for him to bear witness to the demon inside me on top of everything else. Besides, a handful of chili fries for answers didn’t seem like such a bad trade.

There was no smug satisfaction on his face when I reached for a fry, only a deep contemplation that had me shifting in my seat.

“You said you knew…
know
my father,” I stabbed a cluster of ground beef with the fry. “Did you mean it?”

He nodded. “For quite a few years actually.”

I eyed him curiously, silently trying to judge his exact age. It was hard to do when he looked very young and very old at the same time. There were certain times when I could have sworn he was no older than I was, but then, when he watched me the way he was at that moment, with a deep seeded interest, I wasn’t so sure. But I wasn’t going to waste one of my questions on that.

“Does he know where I am?” I poked the lump of meat a little harder, avoiding all eye contact.

There was a certain amount of hesitation before he answered, “Yes. I touch base with him regularly.”

I nodded slowly, anger coloring my thoughts red. “I guess he knows about Mom.”

He hesitated. “Yes. I called him just after I called Edger.”

I don’t know what I was expecting to happen. I was practically a stranger to him. He had no reason to want to step in now when he hadn’t in twelve years. I guessed it made sense.

“How long have you been following us?”

“A while.”

I looked up at him. “How long?”

“Since your mother left with you.”

I didn’t have to be good at numbers to do the math. “That was twelve years ago.”

He shook his head. “Fourteen.”

The uneaten fry fell forgotten from my fingers back into the plate. I shook my head. “I was four when I last saw him.”

“You were two,” he answered simply.

That explained why I didn’t remember anything. I always thought it was strange that I couldn’t even picture what my father might have looked like. Most kids had some memory of their childhood at age four, didn’t they?

“How old are you?”

It may have seemed like a useless question before, but if this guy was following us around since I was two… he had to be older than he looked.

He leaned back against the worn leather and folded his arms. “I reserve the right not to answer personal questions.”

I started at the remark, not expecting it. “You can’t be older than me, at least not by much.”

He remained tightlipped.

I sighed. “Okay, fine, no personal questions. Why are you following us?”

“I work for your father,” he replied, nudging the plate in silent indication. “He entrusted me with your safety.”

I ignored his subtle hint for me to eat. “So, you’re like my bodyguard?”

He contemplated that for a moment before giving a shrug. “Something like that.”

“Why do I need a bodyguard? And where were you in third grade when Tommy Milroy pushed me in the playground?”

His lips twitch. The sharp watchfulness of his eyes softened and some of the hard lines on his face relaxed. It could have been a smile, I supposed.

“I remember that,” he said, lips curving into a full grin that made my insides jittery. “I also remember you slugging him in the nose two seconds later.”

Heat crept into my cheeks and I quickly focused on the plate between us. “Yeah well…” I cleared my throat. “So, you didn’t answer my question — why do I need a bodyguard?”

“Your father wanted to make sure you were protected.”

“That’s a lot of trouble to go through for a daughter he doesn’t want,” I muttered, wincing at the resentment crackling in the words.

“Things aren’t as black and white as you may think.”

I scowled at his fortune cookie stance on the topic. “It couldn’t have been a very hard decision. Either you want to be in your child’s life or you don’t. He didn’t. Whatever. It’s not like I needed him holding my hand or anything. But it would have been nice if he at least acknowledged my existence.”

“Oh, he knew you existed, Fallon or I wouldn’t be here.”

“Oh well, now I feel loads better,” I dropped back in my seat and glowered at him. “How could I have ever doubted his affections when he goes out of his way to send some random stranger to stalk me my whole life?”

“There are things you don’t understand right now, but when you do, you will see that he has been much closer to you then you think.”

I crossed my arms. “Right. Next you’ll tell me you’re my father.” I faltered, actually feeling my face twist up in disgust. “You’re not, are you?”

He snorted what could have passed for a snicker. “I can say with all honesty that I’m not.”

“Thank God!” I exclaimed in relief. “Not that I have anything against you, but that would seriously have been messed up.”

He grinned a little. “Agreed.”

My life was screwed up enough without adding that to my list of things I’d erase if I had a time-turner. At least my miniature-sized attraction to him wasn’t anymore twisted then it already was.

“Okay, so if you’re not my dad then where is he?”

He pushed the plate straight in front of me and sat back, crossing his arms over his chest. His left brow arched almost challengingly, and I knew what he was getting at; eat or no more answers.

To appease him, I took up a fry and stuffed it into my mouth, making a big show of chewing and swallowing. “Happy?”

“Not until the plate is clean,” he answered. “He’s waiting for you,” he continued after I’d consumed a few more chili fries. “He wants to meet you.”

“Meet him?” I garbled around a mouthful of chili. I quickly swallowed. “Why does he want to meet me?”

“Aside from the fact that you’re his daughter?”

I scowled at his simple explanation. “Hey, that didn’t seem to matter before. I don’t see why it should matter now.”

“Well, maybe because now you can make your own decisions about seeing him.”

I frowned, disliking the implication that Mom was somehow the reason that my dad was keeping his distance. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Isaiah sighed, leaning forward and resting his arms on the table. “Look, I can’t tell you very much about the arrangements made between your mom and dad, but I will say that he has been looking forward to meeting you, so, when you’re ready, I’ll take you to him.”

I shook my head. “No.”

His eyes widened in surprise before narrowing in confusion. “No?” Yeah, hadn’t he heard that word before?

“My mom died protecting me from him. I’m not going to hand myself over on a silver platter.”

“She died protecting you from the same people your father sent me to keep you safe from — Garrison.”

“How do I know they don’t work for him the way you do?”

“Because I wouldn’t be here if that were the case and neither would you. They would have captured you already.”

“Okay, let’s pretend like I believe you.  Why would these people want me in the first place? I’ve already gathered that my father is clearly someone of importance, but these people would have done their homework and known that I don’t mean anything to him.”