Anybody's Child by Michelle Kidd (polar express read aloud .TXT) 📕

in the past twenty-four hours. She watched the tiny soap bubbles twirl at a dizzying rate and helplessly slip down the drain. Like my life. Everything was spinning out of control, and her sense of what was right and wrong seemed to slip away too.

 

 

Chapter 6 - Beth

Beth stood under the water trying to make sense of it all. She needed normalcy. Suddenly she had to talk to Jeni. She must be worried sick. She hadn’t spoken to her all day. It occurred to her by now that everyone at school would know what happened. News travels quickly in a small town.

She turned off the water, grabbed a towel, and headed for her room. The notification light on her cell flashed like crazy on the bedside table. In her haste this morning to grab clothes and head out the door, her phone had been the last thing on her mind. Usually her lifeline, suddenly she couldn’t care less. Beth picked it up and ran her thumb down the screen. She scrolled through her messages realizing there were over a hundred texts—most from Jeni. Without bothering to read them, she punched in Jeni’s number. She needed to hear the sound of her best friend’s voice. While she waited for her to pick up, she sat on the bed and raked her free hand through her damp hair.

The high-pitched alarm spilled over the line without as much as a hello. “OMG! Where have you been! I tried calling and texting you all day!”

Beth breathed a sigh of relief; she might have chuckled any other day. Always one for theatrics, the sound of her friend’s concern bolstered her spirits. “Jeni, calm down. I’ve been at the police station. Why aren’t you at school?” It dawned on her Jeni should be in government about now.

“Mom let me stay home. No way was I going anywhere when I learned what happened. I’m so sorry, Beth! We heard you found her. I can’t even imagine how horrible it must have been!”

Beth bit her lip. “Yeah.”

“Did you get my message?” The hard edge to Jeni’s voice suggested she was nervous about something.

“I got lots of messages—which one?”

“The police were here today.”

“Police!” Beth tensed. “What did they want?”

“They were asking all sorts of questions. They talked to Mom too.”

“What sort of questions?”

“Things like how well we knew Leigh; could we tell them about anyone who would want to hurt her, and how well you two got along.”

Beth’s stomach flopped. “You told them we did, right?”

“Sure . . . only . . . they started getting really picky, asking if you ever mentioned fights.”

Beth closed her eyes, sensing what was coming.

“They asked if you’d ever said anything about hurting her. I told them, no, but they kept badgering me. It was confusing, like they were angry or something. They kept twisting my words. I let slip what you said the other day . . . when you were mad. Remember? You said you could . . . you know . . . kill her. I didn’t mean to—honest. Who would think they’d take me seriously? I told them you’d never do anything like that—that you were upset.”

“Jeni! How does that slip? It’s an expression—no one means it. You’ve said it too.”

“That’s what I told them.”

“Did they believe you?”

“I-I guess so.”

“They found the knife they think killed Mom in my closet! Do you realize how bad this looks?”

 “. . . well . . . you didn’t do it, did you?”

“What? Of course not! How could you ask such a thing?”

“No, you’re right. I didn’t mean it like that. It’s . . . so . . . messed up. Things like this don’t happen here. Beth, are you mad at me? Please don’t be mad—I couldn’t stand it if you were.”

Beth expelled a lung full of air. “No. I’m not mad. I didn’t do it, so they’ll figure it out. Just be more careful what you tell people. And don’t say anything about the knife. The last thing I need is for this to get around school.”

“What about the stinkbug’s birthday?”

Stinkbug—Jeni’s pet name for Mindy. The whole family had adopted it. “She’s downstairs eating a snack.”

“Poor thing. I’ve been praying for you guys all day. Does she have any idea what’s going on?”

“Not yet. Dad doesn’t want to tell her on her birthday.”

“Aww . . . I feel so bad. My mom wants to talk to your dad. She’s going to ask if you guys can stay here tonight. It’s got to be so weird at your house.”

“He’s planning on calling her later to see if we can both stay.”

“Oh, Beth, you guys have to come!”

“If it’s okay with your mom, we’ll bring the cake and pizza to your house. He’s hoping—” Beth caught the sound of the doorbell. “Hold on a sec.” She pulled the cell from her ear and listened. When it rang again, she frowned. Where was Dad?

“Jeni, I gotta run. Someone’s at the door.” No doubt the casserole squad from their church. Whenever anything happened in their congregation, a helping-hands committee was dispatched to bombard the families with a week’s worth of reheatable food. There was still an aluminum-shaped football in their freezer from when Mom had surgery two years ago. “I’ll have Dad call in a little bit.”

“Okay, hugs!”

“Hugs back.” Beth clicked the end call button, fished her leggings out of the drawer, and threw on an oversized sweatshirt, one that hung past her knees. The bell rang again followed by a sharp knock.

She rushed down the steps still wondering where her dad had gone. The last thing she wanted to do was deal with the well-meaning ladies of the church—nice as they were. It would be rude to leave them standing outside holding their Pyrex containers. She did her best to put on a brave face. If they started mothering her, she’d fall to pieces. Opening the door, her resolve crumpled when instead of kind, friendly faces she was met with the scowl of Detective Arnold.

 

Chapter 7 – Beth

The shock of seeing Arnold caused Beth to take an involuntary step backward. He was the last person she wanted to find on her doorstep. What in the world did he want now? Hadn’t he harassed her enough at the station? She swallowed the ugly words that danced on the tip of her tongue.

“Hello, Beth. Mind if we come in?”

We? For the first time Beth looked past him to see two uniformed deputies and a lady standing behind Arnold.

Too stunned to speak, she opened the door wider and allowed them to enter.

“Where’s your father?” Arnold ran a hand down his expensive looking tie as the corners of his mouth slowly curled to a self-satisfying smirk.

“I-I’m not sure.” Beth’s mouth went dry, making it hard to swallow. Her pulse drummed against her brain. Where was Dad—or Mindy for that matter? “I’ll see if I can find him.”

In her haste to escape Arnold’s presence, she was in the kitchen before she realized she’d left them standing in the foyer. Let them wait!

She continued to wander down the hallway, checking each room. “Dad?” Nothing.

A rhythmic screech from outside caught her attention. It sounded like the chain of Mindy’s swing. She stepped into Mom’s office and peered out the window. Sure enough, Mindy’s pink tennis shoes were pointed skyward, sailing through the air. Blonde hair streamed behind her as she pumped her legs back and forth. It took a minute to spot her father pacing several feet away with his cell to his ear. His exaggerated gestures indicated he was upset with someone.

Who could he be talking to?

She glanced around the office and picked up a picture frame made from seashells. She and Mom had collected them on their trip to the beach two years ago. It held a close up of them with their heads stuck together like Siamese twins. They wore sunglasses and big cheesy grins. It was hard to tell them apart except Mom insisted on wearing that pink floppy hat.

Beth pressed her fingers to the glass feeling fresh tears spring to her eyes. “Oh, Mom!” Arnold waited in the other room, but at the moment, she didn’t care. She hated him and everything he represented.

Her eyes closed, allowing the memory to wash over her like the foaming surf against bare toes. They’d had so much fun walking the beach and laughing at those funny seagulls running from the surf. They’d taken this goofy picture, and later, she’d made the frame from the prettiest shells for Mom’s birthday. That was before everything had gone all weird, and Mom’s paranoia threatened whenever Beth wanted to go anywhere or do anything.

A sudden recollection pulled Beth back to the present—something Mom said that day on the beach . . . if anything should ever happen to her. She remembered it because her mother had gotten all serious. Beth hadn’t thought much about it since . . . something about a journal and it being important.

It looked like Dad had finished his conversation. She’d better tell him Arnold and company were here so he could send them packing. Retracing her steps to the kitchen, Beth walked into the backyard and waved to get her father’s attention. The determined set of his eyes and flushed face alarmed her.

She met him halfway in the yard. “Dad, Detective Arnold’s here to talk to you.”

Her father swore and ran a hand up the back of his neck. “Great!”

“Dad?”

“Beth, keep an eye on your sister. Stay out here until I get back. Understand?”

“Yes, but—”

“Just do it . . . please?” His reaction frightened her. She’d never seen her father so . . . scared? Hadn’t he tried to convince her Arnold would help them?

Dad seldom lost his temper. His police façade usually kicked in and kept him levelheaded in any situation. Something definitely had him rattled—something more than Mom’s death.

She swallowed. “Okay.”

“Good. Beth, remember, whatever happens, I love you.”

“Dad, y-you’re scaring me.”

“I know—I can’t . . . I’ve got to talk to Arnold.”

Beth followed her father’s retreating back as he entered the house, her mind filled with crazy fears. Who had Dad been arguing with on the phone? For the hundredth time since she woke up this morning, she resisted the urge to pinch herself. She had to be dreaming. None of this could be real. Why, God? Why!

“Beth, what’s wrong?”

Beth looked down and remembered Mindy. She attempted a smile. “Nothing. Why don’t you go play?”

“Will you swing me?”

“You don’t need me to push you—you’re a big