Listen

14

“This is stupid! This is so stupid!” Stomp, stomp, stomp. “My father is a moron! You’re a moron, Father!”

Damien sat at the kitchen table, sipping orange juice as he listened to chaos erupt one story up.

Even Kay joined in. “Damien,” she hollered down the stairs, “what time is it? You didn’t give us enough time!”

Damien checked the kitchen clock. “You’re fine. You’ve got plenty of time.”

“I hate you for this!” Jenna continued. At age five, the word hate got her a time-out, and this kind of tantrum at eight would’ve gotten her grounded. But these days, it was a hopeful sign that her emotions were all still intact.

Hunter descended the stairs first, his feet dragging down each step as if someone had poured lead in his shoes.

“Looking nice, dude,” Damien said when he got to the bottom.

Hunter scowled, then went to the fridge to get the orange juice.

“Your sister and mother are taking it well,” Damien quipped, adding a smirk.

Hunter smirked back. “Yeah. I think Jenna’s going to light you on fire with her tongue. If she ever makes it down here.”

“Oh, she’s going to make it down here all right.” Damien waited patiently, his resolve building with each minute that ticked by. Yes, this was a good move. Taking your family to church helped build a foundation, and that was what they needed right now. Some help out of the quicksand they’d found themselves sinking in.

A loud thumping, like roofers were up top, caused Damien to look up. Jenna stomped down the stairs, glaring harder with each step.

Damien smiled. “You look beautiful. Thanks for getting up early for this.” She actually wore a dress that fluttered around her legs as if she were wrapped in a white butterfly.

“Save it,” she said, throwing open the door to the fridge.

“More of that talk and we might have to make this a weekly tradition,” Damien said, an eyebrow raised.

She peeked around the fridge door. “You wouldn’t.”

“I would.”

“Ugh.” She rolled her eyes.

“This is more for you than me,” Hunter said, casting an evil grin her direction.

“Shut up. Please shut up about it. I’ve got a headache. Probably because I had to wake up at the stroke of midnight.”

“You’re only eight hours off,” Hunter said.

Damien snapped his fingers at him. This could go on for hours if he didn’t run interference.

Jenna noticed the orange juice already on the table and grabbed a glass. She tossed herself into a chair. “You just don’t get it. I’m exhausted. I don’t need another day to wake up early.”

“You can take a nap later,” Damien said.

“Whatever.” She scanned the orange juice carton. “Can anybody say ‘pulp-free’? How hard is it?”

Kay hurried down the stairs, fingering her hair. “How do I look?”

“Really nice. Love the dress.”

“This old thing? Ugh. But I wear suits all week. Didn’t want to wear another.”

“Why do we have to dress up anyway?” Jenna moaned.

“Because that’s the proper way to dress,” Kay said. “Your bra strap is showing, by the way.”

“Just shoot me,” she said, laying her head on the table.

“Let’s save that for later,” Damien said, standing and grabbing his suit jacket. He smiled. “Now, off to the torture chamber.”

Otherwise known as church.

The two-mile drive was relatively quiet, except for an occasional grunt coming from the backseat. There was something different about Sunday mornings. The air sparkled with freshness. The noises all seemed subdued. People waved and walked their dogs. Maybe he should bring the Sunday morning drive back.

Better yet, write it as an op-ed piece! Perfect.

He remembered going to church with his parents. His father dressed in his best suit, an expensive fedora topping his head. It was the only time his dad wore a hat or showed his mother any affection. On Sundays they held hands and talked lightly.

The mood was quite different in his own car, but maybe it would change once they got there.

The church parking lot was crowded, and Damien hesitated, wondering if a two-year absence qualified him as a visitor.

“Right there,” Jenna said. “It’s wide open.”

Damien pulled in and parked. Everyone except him was slow to get out. Damien led his family to the front entrance.

A greeter opened the door and smiled. “Welcome.”

They stepped into the large sanctuary. A balcony loomed above them like an encroaching thunderstorm. Plenty of seats to choose from on the lower level. “Where do you want to sit?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Jenna muttered, her arms crossed.

“Fine. Let’s just go down this aisle a few pews.”

As Jenna led the way, Damien noticed she seemed particularly self-aware, messing with her hair and glancing around. Suddenly she stopped and turned. “Let’s not. How about the other side? There are more seats over there.”

“There are plenty of seats here. Look, just up ahead is an entire pew.”

“No, I like the other side.” She pushed between all of them. “Come on. I see the perfect spot.”

“Oh, wait!” Kay said. “It’s Shannon and Susan! Jenna, Zoey and Caydance are with them. Come on!” She hurried forward, waving and smiling.

Hunter shrugged and followed.

Damien glanced back at Jenna. “You okay?”

“Yeah.”

“You’re sure?” Damien caught the dread in the deepest part of her eyes. “You don’t look okay.”

Jenna’s gaze drifted down the aisle, then to him.

Suddenly a hand was on his shoulder. Damien glanced behind him.

A man with a gigantic smile was offering his hand. “Hi. Pastor Caldwell. I didn’t recognize you and your family. I just wanted to say hello and welcome.”

Damien looked down the aisle. Jenna was making her way to her seat.

“What was your name?”

“Damien Underwood. My family is down there.”

The pastor smiled, and Damien suddenly recognized him as the man whose cat was hung.

“I’m sorry to hear what happened in your neighborhood,” Damien said.

The man nodded, his welcoming eyes turning sad. “I am sorry to hear what is happening to our town.”

“Your friend Tim Shaw. Have you spoken to him?”

“Oh yes. Of course. He is ashamed of so much… what he was heard saying, what he did to his wife. I’m trying to help him deal with that guilt.”

“So you don’t think he did that to your cat?”

“No. I’ve known the man for a long time. My wife has had a hard time with what he said about me. It is a tough thing to hear a friend’s words. I pray for her. For all of us. There is going to be a lot to forgive when this is over.” His eyes turned cheerful again as he gently patted Damien on the arm. “I’m so glad you’re with us today. I must get up front. It’s almost time for the service.”

Damien nodded and joined his family, sliding into the end seat just in time to hear Kay address Jenna. “Honey, say hi to the girls.”

Jenna offered a half smile to the two girls sitting one row ahead. “Hi.”

“Hi, Jenna,” one of them said. Then the girls turned around and giggled.

Damien glanced at Jenna, who only stared forward, expressionless.

“I didn’t know you came here,” one of the women said to Kay.

“We haven’t come in a while. But glad to be back. This is my husband, Damien. Damien, this is Shannon Branson and Susan Sanders.”

Damien shook their hands. Shannon was overly made-up, as if she hoped that fresh-face youthful look would hold on, and when it didn’t, she’d freaked out. Damien was glad Kay didn’t overdo it. Susan’s sharp eyes studied Damien. She was smiling, but it looked scrutinizing, like how rich people greet everyone who is less rich. Damien gave a short smile, and the woman finally turned back around. He noticed Jenna again. Her eyes had glazed over, and she blinked slowly. Damien leaned into her. “You’re sure you’re all right?”

Jenna nodded. But it was the kind of nod that didn’t ring true.

Not surprisingly, the sermon was about gossip. Damien thought the pastor did a good job of not pointing fingers but rather showing the destruction of gossip and also the importance and power of truth in words.

Damien found himself uplifted. Even the family seemed in a better mood as the service ended. Jenna wrapped her arm around his waist as they left. Hunter saw a friend from school and hurried toward the foyer. Kay stayed and chatted with the cheerleading moms.

Damien held tight to his daughter as they walked. “Hey, what do you say we go eat at Chicken Annie’s?”

“Fried chicken, are you kidding me?”

“When you were five years old, you used to eat four pieces. Your face was a mess of grease. You wanted to have your birthday party there!”

Jenna laughed. Giggled, actually. He hadn’t heard her giggle in a long time. She sounded like a little girl again. “I guess one piece won’t kill me.”

“It might, but it’ll be worth it. Go find your brother, will you? I’m starving.”

Jenna nodded, and Damien watched the crowds for Kay. But soon his ears tuned into a conversation nearby. He couldn’t help but listen. Their small words drowned the hundreds of nearby voices.

“I’m just saying, I wouldn’t show my face the day after my divorce was settled.”

“You know why he’s here.”

“And why she’s wearing a short skirt.”

Damien turned, trying to get away from it. He noticed Kay and waved at her. She held up a finger as she finished her conversation. That was when Damien noticed Zoey and Caydance. They both crossed their arms, glaring at someone across the room. Damien couldn’t figure out who they were looking at.

“Let’s go,” Jenna said, coming up from behind with Hunter in tow.

“Jenna, who are those girls looking at?” Damien asked, pointing.

“Probably their own reflection. Let’s go, okay?”

Kay joined them and they left, but Damien couldn’t help but steal another glance. Whoever it was could be at the receiving end of a lot of unpleasantries.

After breaking up an impromptu scuffle in front of the Chinese restaurant, over a conversation off the Web site that may or may not have been about the tall guy’s wife, Frank took lunch and heaped a giant serving of lo mein onto his plate, then pushed his tray down the long self-serve buffet line. He skipped the hot and sour soup but decided on a couple of egg rolls. He joined his rookie back at the table, eyeing the kid’s steamed vegetables and rice. He watched him dash it all with a splash of soy sauce.

“Careful,” Frank said, taking the soy sauce from him. “That sodium can kill you.”

Gavin stared at Frank’s heaping plate, then looked at Frank. He cracked a small, hesitant smile, unsure, Frank guessed, of whether or not Frank was kidding. For a cop, the kid was lacking some serious gut instincts.

“Chinese food is less healthy than it looks,” Gavin said. He pointed his fork toward the egg roll. “Don’t let the cabbage in there fool you.”

“And don’t let the smile on my face fool you.”

Gavin stopped pointing and started eating. “You know,” he said after a moment, “I’ve been thinking about this Web site. I read somewhere that there’s a program that can be loaded onto cell phones, and then someone can listen to conversations wherever the cell phone goes. Even if the cell phone is turned off.”

“Interesting idea.”

“I went by one of the cell phone stores here, just asked some questions. Nobody seemed particularly nervous.”

“That’s what you’re going on, whether people seemed nervous or not?”

“I figured if they’d done something, they wouldn’t like me asking around.”

“Yes, because criminals have a long history of not being able to hide under a facade.” Frank tilted his head. “It’s going to take more than that.” Gavin looked wounded and Frank sighed. “But it’s a good thought. It might explain some of this.”

The wounds slid right off Gavin like Chinese noodles off a chopstick. His face was back to bright and cheery. “Also, there are some pretty powerful listening devices that use laser beams. But they’re really expensive. And of course come with explicit instructions on how illegal it is to listen to private conversations.”

“Yes, those types of warnings always discourage the bad guys.”

Gavin leaned in. “You think this is a bad guy?”

Frank twirled his noodles. “He’s breaking the law. It’s up to someone else to decide whether he’s bad or good.”

A shadow passed over their plates, and Frank was just about to order another Diet Coke when he looked up. “Angela?”

“Hi, Frank.” She had a hand on her hip and an attitude on her face. She glanced at Gavin, who sank back into his seat while staring at her as if she were a wild zoo exhibit. The idea that Gavin cowered to a harsh look from a female was not boding well with Frank. What was he going to do when a bullet stared him down? “Can we have a moment?”

Frank indicated Gavin should leave.

Gavin gathered his plate, water, and utensils and wandered off to find another table. Angela slid into his seat.

Frank kept eating. “I’m minding my own business here.”

Her face softened. “I know, Frank. I know.”

“How did you find me?”

“It’s Sunday. You eat at this buffet every Sunday unless you’re not working, in which case you order supreme pizza and stay at home.”

“I might’ve changed my routine since we were together.”

“You’re here, aren’t you?”

Frank finally set his fork down. He was rapidly losing his appetite. “Why are you here? To harass me some more?”

“Who is harassing whom?”

“I hate when you talk like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you ain’t never met a piece of grammar that didn’t turn you on.”

“And I hate when you use ain’t.”

“I know.” Frank smiled.

“And we wonder why we didn’t make it.” Angela stood. “Maybe this was a mistake.”

Frank waved her back into her seat. “No, please. I’m sorry. Yeah, I’m kind of reeling from you reporting me to my supervisor. But I’ll get over it.” He started eating again. “You look nice.”

“Frank, I don’t have… I don’t know who else to turn to.”

Frank shoved his plate to the side. “What’s wrong? I can tell something’s wrong.”

She nodded, tears brimming. “I’ve gotten…”

“Yes? What is it?” Frank reached across the table and took her hand. “Ang, you can tell me. You know that. What’s going on?”

“I’ve gotten myself into a terrible mess.”

“Talk to me.”

“First of all, that awful Web site…”

“I know of it.”

“One of my conversations is on there. I mean, I’m not named but I know it’s me. I remember saying it. We’d gotten into a fight and-”

“We? You and I?”

She bowed her head. “No.”

Frank sipped his drink, glancing away to try to hide the pain that was surely surfacing. He saw Gavin across the room staring at them.

“Things are getting very… complicated. I think I’m in way over my head.”

Frank studied her. One shoulder slouched, a sign of perhaps a bigger imbalance in her life. “You’re going to have to be more specific. You have to tell me what’s going on. Is your life in danger?”

“I think so.”

Frank’s chest tightened and his ears burned, probably turning bright red. “All right, I’ll handle this. What’s his name?”

“It’s not him. It’s her.”

Frank sat back. What was she trying to say here? That she was dating a-

“It’s his wife.” She clutched the napkin on the table. “Not my finest moment, I know. But they were in the middle of separating, and he swore it was over. But then she found out.”

“How?”

“I’m not sure. I think maybe the Web site… She probably figured out it was Mike in that conversation.” She looked at Frank now, her eyes begging for forgiveness, understanding. “She’s very angry, threatening a lot of stuff.”

“What kind of stuff?”

“You know… she’s going to kill me.”

“Does he think she’s serious?”

Angela tore the edges off the napkin. “I don’t know. I just don’t know. He’s acting weird too.”

Frank tried a calming breath. This was a lot to take in. “Weird how?”

“He’s very upset that the conversation is on that Web site. I don’t blame him. I would be upset too. And… you’re going to be upset also.” The napkin was in shreds. Usually when she said he was going to be upset, she was right.

“What?”

It took three false starts, but finally Angela said, “The conversation on the Web site is about you.” She opened her hands up, trying to explain. “I was angry with you. I didn’t mean what I said. I was upset and I said some things. I never intended for anyone else to hear them.”

“What exactly did you say?”

“Mike’s scared of you, okay? It’s no secret what you put Vincent MaLue through.”

“Get to the point.”

“We were having a fight, and he said he wasn’t going to put up with you harassing him. Things were already getting weird. I was aggravated, and I said some things about you, all right?”

Frank felt his nostrils flare. That wasn’t a good sign. “All right.”

She reached for his hand. “I knew you’d understand.”

“I don’t understand why you’re here.”

Tears again, shiny and plump, balanced on her eyelashes. “I’m scared. I’ve made a huge mess here. His wife is furious, and I’ve heard a few things about her. I think she’s unstable. And Mike… he’s got a temper. He’s never hit me or hurt me or anything like that, but he keeps getting more agitated, and when he’s agitated, he doesn’t seem to think clearly.”

“What do you want?”

“I didn’t mean all that stuff I said to Damien.” Angela stared at the ceiling for a moment.

Frank’s heart thumped heavily with dread.

“I would never sue you. And even though I saw you there, over the fence, I know deep down inside you’re a good-”

“What are you talking about?”

They exchanged a tense stare, even as the waitress came and refilled Frank’s Diet Coke.

“Don’t act like you don’t know,” Angela said.

“Know what?”

“I’m trying to have an adult conversation with you. I came here, told you what’s going on, even though really, you already knew, didn’t you? Because you were spying on me.” She took a deep breath. “I thought you were the one that put the conversation on the Internet. But when I went to look at the Web site, there are so many conversations. I don’t know… I don’t think you did it anymore.”

“You thought I was the one doing this?”

“I saw you that day. You were behind the fence of Mike’s house. You were walking away when I came out the back door.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You’re telling me you weren’t spying on me and Mike?”

“I don’t know who Mike is. I didn’t know you were seeing someone. If I did, I wouldn’t have filed a missing person report. Because I would’ve known you’d probably moved in with him after the fourth date.”

Angela’s eyes widened with offense. “That was cruel.”

“What do you want from me? Why are you here?”

She wadded up what little bit was left of the napkin and threw it on the table. “I don’t know. You act like I’m the only person in your life, and then when I need your help, suddenly you’re not interested?”

“You need my help to get yourself out of this tangled web you’ve created; is that it?”

Her voice reduced to a whisper. “I’m scared. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t think that woman might do something crazy. I’m going to break it off with Mike, but I don’t really know what he’s going to do either. I just thought…” She bit her lip, smiled sweetly at him. It was that very smile on a Sunday in May that had made Frank realize he would marry this woman. “I need your help. That’s what I’m saying. I need your help to get out of this.”

Frank’s elbow went into his plate and came out with sweet and sour sauce dripping off it.

Angela grabbed his napkin, stood, leaned across the table, and dabbed. She was close to him, her hair swinging in front of his face, her perfume filling his nostrils.

He closed his eyes, trying to find clarity, but all he saw was their wedding day. Her dress, with a lovely, blissful train of white, flowing with life as she gracefully strolled down the aisle. The wispy veil, with tiny pink flowers dotted across it, fluttered against her face, giving him only glimpses into her eyes. The moment he lifted the veil and smoothed it over her beautiful hair, his heart had skipped a beat and caused a deep devotion that he couldn’t explain to this day.

She stared at him as if there were nothing else in the room. “Frank?”

Frank fled the memory, snapping back into reality.

Angela sat across from him. A smile belied her unblinking eyes.

“Angela, you know that I’ve always loved you. And I always will.”

Her smile spread into a grin. “I know.”

“But I can’t help you with this. I can’t step into this situation. I can’t. I won’t.”

Few things ever seemed to surprise Angela Owens Merret. Or at least she’d always had the ability to play it cool.

Not today. She stood, her chair falling backward and rattling against the floor. She dropped a few expletives on the table before she stomped out, leaving Frank with a plate full of cold food and a room full of people staring at him. Including Gavin.

Frank rose, throwing some money on the table.

Gavin hurried over, carrying his plate. “I’m not quite done here. We just-”

“Don’t wet yourself, kid. I’ll be back to get you.”

“You’re leaving me here? Again?”

“Eat your lunch. I’ll be back.”

There was someone he desperately needed to see. And nobody else would do but her.