In Her Eyes by Sarah Alderson (ebook reader for pc and android TXT) 📕

scapegoat, that’s all – someone to hurl all my anger and grief at in the absence of a culprit. It was a mistake. He didn’t mean to do it. How many times have I left the alarm off or gone to bed and remembered as I climbed under the covers that I hadn’t set it but then rolled over and gone to sleep anyway because I was too lazy to go back downstairs?

With a monumental effort I slide my hand over his. He looks up, his eyes filled with tears and relief that I’m not blaming him. We stay like that for a while until he pulls his hand out from under mine, ostensibly to wipe at his nose.

‘You and the Sheriff, then?’ he asks. He says it lightly but the words feel weighted. ‘You went to school together?’

‘Mmm,’ I say, my heart rate accelerating, wondering how much I should admit to, and why Robert’s chosen now to bring it up. Does he know something? I need to stay calm, monitor my reaction and choose my words carefully.

‘Didn’t you used to date him in high school?’ Robert asks.

How does he know? My surprise must show in my face.

‘He told me,’ Robert says.

I stare at him astonished. Nate told him? Why?

‘He did?’ I say. ‘It was only for a short time.’

‘You haven’t seen him since school then?’

‘God no,’ I say quickly, probably too quickly. I feign sleepiness, wanting to put a stop to the conversation. ‘Can you go and check on June?’ I add hastily. ‘I don’t like her being alone. What if something happens and neither of us is there?’

They told me last night that she’s through the most critical stage but she still isn’t breathing on her own. The bullet collapsed her lung and nicked an artery. She lost so much blood before the ambulance arrived that she suffered two cardiac arrests before she made it to the hospital. The paramedic who brought her in came to see me earlier and told me it’s a miracle she’s even alive.

Robert gets up slowly and makes his way over to the door and for the first time ever I see him as old; someone’s stooped-over grandfather, not the young, dashing man I fell in love with, not even the greying but distinguished man I kissed goodnight the other day. He’s aged a decade or more overnight and it makes something in my heart ache anew.

‘Robert,’ I call just as he’s leaving.

He turns.

‘I love you,’ I say.

Robert gives me a grim smile that fades as fast as it appears, and then shuffles out of the room. With an effort, I stretch and turn off the light and lie there in the semi-darkness, staring up at the ceiling, my mind racing. Every time I close my eyes the man in the skull mask appears in front of me, leering at me, his tongue lolling out between his tombstone teeth.

Chapter 13

18 MONTHS AGO

Hannah kicks her feet up onto the dash and I glance over at her long, flawless legs, feeling a pang of loss for the child she once was and for the days I used to carry her everywhere on one hip. There’s a hint of envy too, of the smooth perfection of her skin, along with annoyance at how wasted youth is on the young. She has no idea how gorgeous she is, nor how quickly that bloom will fade, hopefully not as fast as mine did . . . but then, hopefully she won’t get pregnant as young as I did.

As we crest the mountain and spot the ocean glittering with promise in the distance, my phone rings through the car’s audio system, interrupting the thumping godawful music Hannah insisted we listen to. She huffs as some rapper singing about hos being messy gets cut off. The number on the screen says unidentified.

‘It’s just spam,’ Hannah says. ‘Don’t answer.’

I answer, if only to give my ears some respite from the caterwauling misogyny.

‘Hello,’ I say.

‘Ava?’ Gene’s voice comes booming through the speakers so loudly I have to spin the volume dial way down.

‘Gene, where are you?’ I ask. ‘Where are you calling from?’

Hannah pulls her legs off the dash and sighs melodramatically, as is her wont when it comes to Gene.

‘Um . . . I’m kind of in jail.’

‘Jail? What for?’ I ask, realizing my foot has come off the gas and I’m veering across the lane, onto the hard shoulder. I right the car.

‘What did you do?’ Hannah asks, her tone a little too gleeful.

‘Could you come and pick me up?’ Gene pleads. ‘It’s the county jail in Ventura.’

‘Yes,’ I say, already signaling to take the southbound entrance onto the freeway. What the hell has he done? Is it another DUI?

‘No,’ interrupts Hannah. ‘We can’t come and get you. We’re on our way to Santa Barbara to go shopping.’

‘No,’ I say over the top of her, ‘of course we’ll come and get you.’

Hannah gives another loud sigh and crosses her arms over her chest.

‘Do I need to call a lawyer?’ I ask in a panic as I merge onto the freeway.

‘What did you do?’ Hannah asks again.

‘Were you driving under the influence?’ I ask, thinking that’s the most likely situation, but the call drops before I get an answer.

‘Damn,’ I hiss. If he’s been caught driving under the influence I am going to kill him.

‘I bet you it’s drugs,’ says Hannah smugly. ‘He was probably driving stoned. I mean he’s always stoned.’

‘He’s quit.’

‘Yeah, right. It could be sex with a minor.’

‘What?’ I shriek, glancing at her.

She shrugs. ‘Some of those hos he brings back are like, sixteen.’

‘What are you talking about?’ I say, turning to face her. ‘And don’t call women hos. You’re listening to too much of that music. It’s rotting your brain. And what are you saying anyway? Gene doesn’t date sixteen-year-olds.’

‘You think he bothers to check their IDs before he bones them?’

I open my mouth, then shut it. The truth is, though I try to sneak glimpses at the women who trail in and