The White Angel Murder

35

Melissa answered the door in jeans and a t-shirt torn a few places in the back. Stanton could tell it was done on purpose at the store and it took him back a little. She was plain and adorable when he had been with her. Now, it was something different. Her nails were long and her skin fake tanned. She had new piercings in her ears and her hair had blond highlights.

She led him to the living room and then went to get two drinks. He sat down on the leather sofa. One of the boys’ toys was out on the living room floor and he stared at it a long time. It was always an odd feeling for him to be in someone else’s home. Like seeing a side of them they didn’t allow others to see. But the familiarity of the toys and the photos of his two sons up on the mantle gave it a sense of home that confused him and made it uncomfortable. He wondered if coming here was a mistake.

Melissa returned with two orange juices and placed one on a coaster in front of him. The coffee table was an old, worn out wicker stand and looked hand-woven. He took a sip of his orange juice and they sat quietly awhile, the wind blowing through some trees in the backyard. The sliding glass door was open but the screen was closed. He could see several tall trees and a doghouse.

“I didn’t know you got a dog.”

“Lance bought it for the boys. All it seems to do is poop and bark but the boys love it.”

“What kind of dog is it?”

“I don’t know, some purebred he paid three thousand dollars for.”

“I was planning on buying a dog for them sometime soon. I’m glad they have it.” He placed his juice down. It was bitter and had a taste of mint. He figured it must be some sort of import, like the coffee table. “Do you go to church anymore?”

“No.”

“Do you at least take the boys?”

“No.”

Stanton was about to say something, but didn’t. There would be no point. Everything that needed to be said between them had already been said.

“Lance’ll be home in a couple of hours and I can’t have you here. It wouldn’t look right. So what is it you want, Jon?”

Stanton opened his mouth, and it seemed as if the words were pulled from the air. He told her about Harlow and the blackmail, about Jessica, about Hernandez, about Young. He had always found it easy to speak to her and was glad that that hadn’t changed. But there was something different. Very subtle, but it was there. Just a little lower inflection in her voice. A few more glances away as he was speaking. She was caring about him less and less.

When he was done she crossed her legs and played with her hair. It was something he had seen her do when she was thinking. He had always found it adorable but now thought it insignificant, like watching the idiosyncrasies of a stranger.

“I’ll talk to Michael,” she finally said. “He listens to me. Or he’ll at least listen to Lance.”

“Not on this. He’s played his hand. I have too much information on him and he’ll do everything he can to discredit me and keep me away.”

“Then why did you come to me?”

“Honestly, I just wanted someone to know. It may not seem like much to you but it means a lot that you believe me.”

“I can tell when you’re lying and you’re not lying right now.”

He rose to leave. “If anything happens to me … well, I don’t actually know how to finish that sentence.”

“You don’t have to.”

As he walked out the front door he turned to her. “I’m sorry. For everything. I really wish things could’ve turned out different between us. Even now I still love you.”

“I wish they would have turned out differently too. But that’s life I guess. You think you’re doing okay and something falls on your head out of the sky.”

Stanton climbed into his car and felt the warmth of tears streaming down his cheeks.