Chapter Forty-Four

CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

JOE PRIOR HAS had a shit day.

He hadn't enjoyed being grilled by the detectives, but they'd let him go, and he'd returned to work.

Now, as work finishes at four o'clock, he waits for Roddy at Roddy's truck. When the bastard sees him, he stops in his tracks and looks like he's about to shit his pants.

‘So,' Joe says, his tone both pleasant and menacing. He's furious at the betrayal. Furious, too, that he can't even beat the crap out of Roddy because if he does the police will find out. Roddy will tell them and then it will look like this alibi is really important to him. And he doesn't want to be charged with assault. So he can't touch the fucking bastard. But Roddy's too stupid to figure that out, so at least he can scare him a bit.

‘I'm sorry, man,' Roddy says. ‘I didn't want to rat you out. I didn't have a choice.' He sounds terrified.

‘There's always a choice, Roddy,' Joe says, ‘and you made the wrong one.' It takes all of his self-control, but Joe knows he has to let this go. He has to minimize it. He's already admitted to the detectives that he got Roddy to lie for him just to get the police off his back after his photo went out on the news. He gives Roddy one last contemptuous look and walks away, to his own truck, and doesn't look back.

As he drives home, he thinks things over. He's worried about this fucked-up alibi business. He never should have said anything to Roddy. He thought if he provided an alibi, they'd move on and forget about him. He thinks maybe he should get an attorney. He doesn't care how it looks. He needs to stay out of jail. He can't survive in jail. Just the thought of it brings on the sweats.

He tries not to think about all the shitty places he lived in when he was a kid. The cheap apartments where his dad would lock him in a closet and pretend to forget about him for days. He finds it hard to catch his breath for a minute, as his breathing becomes shallower and shallower. Those times when he was curled up on the closet floor in the dark, nothing to eat. Nothing to drink. Crying and soiling himself. Unable to get out. But the trailer was the worst.

When he gets home, he finds the police waiting for him, with a search warrant.

After school, Paula does something she's been thinking about for a couple of days. It's Tuesday, and it's time she paid a visit to Diana's mother and offered her condolences. She's heard that the funeral will be held on Wednesday, at the United Church. She imagines nearly everyone in town will go, and probably people from further away too. The school will close early so that staff and students can attend. She's dreading it. She realizes that her own worries about Taylor pale in comparison to what Mrs Brewer has to deal with.

She knocks on the front door, noting how forlorn the house seems. She knows that Mrs Brewer is a single mother, and that she has no other children. How can she be bearing it?

The door finally opens, and she's appalled at the visible change in the bereaved woman. The last time Paula saw her, in the spring, was at a parent–teacher conference. Brenda Brewer always attended the meetings, while many other parents didn't bother. She was so supportive of her daughter, so proud of her. She is a mere shadow of that woman now. Her face is colourless and slack, her hair limp and untidy. She looks older. Paula remembers her as being much more robust, cheerful and energetic. Paula finds that she wants to cry at the sight of her.

‘Mrs Brewer,' she says, ‘I'm Diana's English teacher, Paula Acosta. May I come in for a minute?'

The other woman nods and says, ‘I remember you.'

‘I just wanted to tell you how truly sorry I am about Diana,' Paula says.

She nods again and invites Paula into the living room, where they sit down. There's an awkward pause, as Mrs Brewer doesn't seem inclined to speak. ‘We all miss her so much,' Paula says. And then she feels incredibly stupid, because of course her mother misses her more than anyone.

She reaches into the bag at her feet. ‘You know I thought Diana very bright and talented. It's still early in the school year, but I thought you might like to have some of the work she did – some essays and creative pieces.' She hands her a folder of the assignments Diana had submitted since the beginning of the semester. Mrs Brewer takes it, slowly opens it.

‘She did a very good essay for our unit on the ghost story.' Brenda looks up at her then. Paula flushes, realizing it was a tactless thing to say. She says, ‘I understand she wanted to be a vet, but she was also an exceptional English student.'

Brenda nods absently and says, ‘She loved to read.' Her eyes travel around the living room and then come back to rest on her. ‘She's here, you know.'

‘Pardon?' Paula says.

‘Diana. She's here, with me in the house. Her spirit. I can feel it. I know it.'

Paula stares at Brenda Brewer, startled.

‘She's here right now, watching us,' she says. ‘Say hi to Mrs Acosta, Diana. Isn't it nice that she's dropped by?'

Paula is worried for the other woman's sanity. She's delusional. She needs help.

‘It's such a comfort to have her with me,' Mrs Brewer confides. ‘But I do worry.'

Paula stares back at her, confused, alarmed.

‘I'm afraid it's selfish. I like to have her here with me, but I worry that she can't find rest. Because she was murdered, you see? I think if someone dies young, so tragically, so unfairly, they can't move on. And that's a horrible weight for a mother to bear. On top of everything.'

All Paula can do is nod.

‘She's going to be buried tomorrow,' Brenda says. ‘Do you think, after the funeral, and the minister's blessing, she will find peace? Or maybe when they find her killer? If they ever do. But then I'll be all alone again.'

Paula doesn't know what to do. She reaches out and touches the other woman's arm. ‘I'm sure she will find peace. We must all pray for her.'

She stays a little longer, and then she takes her leave, wondering who she can call to help Mrs Brewer, who seems to have lost her mind.