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SEVENTEEN

I woke up the next morning to the sound of Misty puking her guts out in my bathroom.

I cracked my eyes open just wide enough to see the time. Ten fifteen. I closed them again and rubbed my head. It didn’t help. At seventeen I wasn’t a very experienced drinker, and this was my first full-blown, I-swear-to-God-I’ll-never-do-this-again hangover.

I let out a long, low moan, and the wreckage of the past forty-eight hours flooded back. Dumped over the phone by my boyfriend in Korea, meaningless retaliatory sex with my drug dealer, sneaking off to the midnight rave, the drunken drive home, and the unimaginable, unforgettable scene on Crystal Avenue. And then finally, holding Misty in my arms, while she railed at her dead father, “Why Charlie, Daddy? Why Charlie?”

My father had offered her the guest room, but she was too petrified to sleep alone, so we spent the night huddled together in my bed.

“Maggie...”

I opened my eyes again. She was standing in the doorway wearing my green bathrobe.

“How you doing?” I asked lamely.

She shook her head.

I desperately needed a hot shower and clean clothes, but she shucked the robe, grabbed her jeans and shirt off the floor and put them on, so I decided to do the same.

The smell of fresh-brewed dark roast hit us as soon as we got to the top of the stairs. “Coffee will help,” I said.

“Good morning,” my father said. If it were any other day, we’d have gotten a textbook parental lecture on the perils of drinking and driving. But not today. He looked at Misty. “I spoke to your grandfather.”

She stared at him, confused. “How...?”

“The local cops called the Colorado state police, who tracked down your grandparents, broke the news to them, and gave them my number. Your grandfather called here a few hours ago. I told him you were okay, so we decided to let you sleep.”

“Thanks. Did he say when they’re coming?”

“They’re not. Your grandmother is not healthy enough to make the trip, and your grandfather won’t leave her alone.”

Disbelief spread across her face. “They’re not... but... how am I supposed to do this on my own? I don’t know how to plan a funeral.”

My father put his hand on Misty’s shoulder. “It’s okay. That’s not your responsibility. Your grandparents will take care of everything. They’re flying your mother and brother to Colorado.”

“What about my father?”

I could see the strain on my father’s face. He was the messenger, and I had the feeling he didn’t agree with the message. “They decided to let the county take care of him.”

“The county?”

“Misty, they just lost their daughter and their grandson. That’s who they want. And you, of course. They’re sending you a ticket. Once you’ve settled in with them, they’ll find a broker here to sell the house and ship whatever you?—”

“ Settled in ? Are they crazy? Do they think I’m moving to the middle-of-nowhere, Colorado? I hardly even know them. No way. I’m staying here.”

My father looked at me, then back at Misty. “Fine. We have an extra room, and if it’s okay with your grandparents you can stay with us for as long as you?—”

“No, no, no, Mr. McCormick. I love you guys for taking me in, but I didn’t mean stay here . I couldn’t possibly walk out that front door every day without looking across the street and seeing my house, and the cop cars, and the ambulances, and the detectives telling me that my entire family was dead. I meant I’m staying in Heartstone. This is where I go to school. This is where my life is... what’s left of it. I’m not leaving.”

“I’m afraid that’s not going to be your decision to make. You’re a minor. The courts are going to want to make sure you’re placed somewhere safe in a home with responsible adults.”

“That’s okay,” Misty said. “I have a responsible adult who will take me.”

“Who?” I said.

“Her name is Savannah Jeffries. She’s twenty-eight years old. She works for an insurance company. She’s married to an electrician, they have two kids, and they live in East Willow, which is still in our school district.”

“That’s fantastic. It would be so good if you could stay in Heartstone,” I said. “Who is she anyway?”

“She’s my... she’s my sister.”

I looked at her cautiously, wondering if she’d gone off the deep end. “Misty,” I said, “I didn’t know you had a sister.”

“Neither did I,” she said. “I only met her three weeks ago.”

“Why don’t you sit down at the table,” my father said. “Do you want some breakfast?”

“No thanks,” Misty said. “But some more coffee would be good.”

He refilled her cup, and the three of us sat down. “So how did you find out you had a sister?” he asked.

“One night my parents were fighting,” Misty said. “He yelled at her a lot after he lost the store—always about money. Charlie’s new sneakers were too expensive, or she was running the air conditioner too much, but that night he was screaming because she got her hair done, and didn’t she know they couldn’t afford shit like that anymore?

“Most of the time she just let him blow off steam, but I think she was sick of being blamed for everything, and she started yelling back. ‘Maybe if you’d kept your dick in your pants, you could have saved a quarter of a million dollars on child support, and I could afford to get a decent haircut.’ He came right back at her and said, ‘You leave Savannah out of it.’

“I was in my bedroom, so they didn’t think I could hear, but they were so loud. I just froze hoping to hear more, but they dropped their voices. It didn’t matter. Any idiot could put two and two together. The next day they were out of the house, so I went to his office. He had three file cabinets, and he was obsessive about keeping records. I had to go back seven years, but I found it—canceled checks made out to Alicia Barbieri—child support for her daughter Savannah. They went back every year for as far as he kept records.”

“But you said her name was Savannah Jeffries,” my father said.

“That’s her married name. I found Alicia Barbieri in the phone book; called and told her I was a friend of Savannah’s from high school. She gave me Savannah’s new name and phone number. I didn’t call right away, but once my mother decided to move to Colorado, I didn’t know where to turn, so I went to her house. As soon as she opened the door, she knew who I was. She told me that my dad got her mom pregnant when they were seniors in high school, and she never had a relationship with my father, but he sent a check every month till she was twenty-one, so she knew all about me and Charlie and my mom. She’s so nice, and you wouldn’t believe how much she looks like me.”

“And she agreed to take you in?” my father said.

“She didn’t even hesitate. I told her I was still hoping to convince my mother to stay in Heartstone, but Savannah said that even if we did, she still wanted me in her life. We’re sisters.”

Two days later Savannah arrived, and the police escorted the two of us to the Sinclair house, which was still sealed off in yellow crime scene tape. Misty, who could barely look at the outside, didn’t have the stomach to go with us.

An hour later, with all her worldly possessions loaded into the back of Savannah’s minivan, Misty and I walked to her car.

“Maggie,” she said solemnly.

I braced myself for a teary goodbye, but that wasn’t Misty’s style.

“I spoke to a lawyer,” she said.

“Who?” I said. “About what?”

“Toby Cullen’s mother. I told her how Minna Schultz put my father out of business. It’s because of her that my family is dead. I want her to go to jail.”

I was still five years away from starting law school, but I had no doubt what Mrs. Cullen would say.

“Was she helpful?” I ventured.

Misty responded with a sneer. “No. First, she gave me some bullshit about freedom of speech, and then she said if my father sued Minna for defamation of character, he might have had a case, but he was the one who pulled the trigger. He’s the murderer. Not her.”

“Minna Schultz is a terrible person,” I said. “But sometimes bad people get away with doing horrible things.”

“Not this time,” Misty said. “I could deal with her killing my father. Maybe even my mother. But my brother... that kid—he was...”

She stopped, her face etched with rage and grief. I put my hand on her shoulder, but she shrugged it off. Vitriol thrives without compassion.

“Charlie was ten times smarter than me. He had a real life ahead of him. Better than mine. Much better than my father’s. Minna Schultz stole that life, Maggie.” She dropped her voice to a menacing whisper. “And if the justice system won’t settle the score, then I will.”

“Misty... please,” I said. “Anytime you want to vent, call me. But do me a favor. Don’t repeat what you just said to me to anyone else.”

“Or... what ... Maggie?” she said, spitting out the words.

“I’m not sure, but if you start threatening Minna, she can sue you for?—”

“Bullshit!” she shot back. “Minna Fucking Schultz can’t do anything to me that’s worse than what she’s already done. You were there, Maggie. You were there that night my life was destroyed forever. Don’t tell me not to talk about it. Don’t tell me to sweep it under the rug. I will tell anybody and everybody who will listen—one day, I’m going to make that bitch pay.”

Twenty-six years later, those words would come back to haunt her.