Read Online Fear the Darkness: A Thriller by Becky Masterman - Free Book Online
Authors: Becky Masterman
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Just not right this minute.
Mallory fled on the pretext of getting us wine, and Carlo and I were left to take seats pinning us between the quiet Manwarings and the wary Neilsens.
Carlo and I tried the usual prepackaged topics, which were met with a few murmurs before silence resumed. I was making plans to later bitch-slap Mallory for abandoning us to this group when Carlo opened with the usual How Long Have You Lived in Tucson gambit.
This worked a little better by enabling Carlo to speak to the Neilsens apart from the Manwarings without appearing rude. Tim talked about how Jacquie had grown up here but that he had moved to Tucson to join a medical practice, where he met his future bride. Here he picked up her hand and kissed it. I noticed her hand did not respond to the kiss, but she did murmur little agreeing sounds, ah and mm, that played behind his words like backup in a singing group.
Carlo mentioned we had our niece staying with us and that she might be interested in medical school. That was a lie of sorts, and I admired it. Tim said he knew some people and gave Carlo his card. I glanced and saw the “Internal Medicine” under his name. Then I remembered Mallory had said something about him being her husband’s physician.
“What do you do?” Tim asked, the only other standard question that hadn’t been asked.
“I’m retired from the U of A, philosophy,” Carlo said. “Brigid here, she’s the one with the interesting profession.”
I hate when he does that. “It’s only interesting to Carlo. I used to be in federal law enforcement. Copyright infringement investigations.”
They would have nodded blandly and moved on, but Carlo wouldn’t drop it. “Brigid is being modest. She was a special agent for the FBI. She foiled evildoers.” That widened eyes around the table. “Now she does private investigations.”
“Private…” was the first word Jacquie had uttered since we sat down. She fixed me with one of those stares, eyes all out on you while mind all inward. As if she wasn’t aware of our attention to her, Jacquie picked up her evening bag from her lap, took out a pen, and wrote something on the back of Tim’s business card that lay on the table between us. Tim scowled as he watched her but apparently could not object.
Then she stood up and leaned over the table, bracing herself on her hands. Her hands were flat on the table. Tim put one of his over hers but she didn’t relax them, didn’t invite his fingers to curl around hers. She smiled a too-wide smile. “How are your children, Lulu?” Jacquie asked, the lack of a conversational segue apparent to us all, which, if her voice hadn’t been so strident and her grin so wide, would still have made her sound a little crazy.
Lulu murmured that her children were doing well, thank you. The “well” came out as whispered regret.
“Amanda still in school?” Jacquie said it with a glare, as if she was accusing Amanda of torturing small animals.
Yes.
“And Ken. Peter was something of a bully, Joey said. But I liked Ken.” The words were darting pretty steadily from her mouth now that she had begun. “Is the youth group still active, Lulu? Are you still in charge?”
Yes, they were planning a kickball … but Lulu’s words trailed off as she realized there were no right ones to speak, that anything she would say would have the sound of a slap. So she stopped trying to talk altogether and stopped trying to look anything but miserable.
I thought Lulu was going to apologize, for something, for Jacquie’s grief, for her own children still being alive. Jacquie turned to me with a look that said Do you see? but I didn’t see at all.
“I’m so … sorry,” she said, all her anger collapsing into itself, though her apology was seemingly directed at only Carlo and me. “I … just … can’t … do this. I … thought I … could do it.”
Lulu turned her head as if she couldn’t face Jacquie’s ache. This was the moment
Mallory fled on the pretext of getting us wine, and Carlo and I were left to take seats pinning us between the quiet Manwarings and the wary Neilsens.
Carlo and I tried the usual prepackaged topics, which were met with a few murmurs before silence resumed. I was making plans to later bitch-slap Mallory for abandoning us to this group when Carlo opened with the usual How Long Have You Lived in Tucson gambit.
This worked a little better by enabling Carlo to speak to the Neilsens apart from the Manwarings without appearing rude. Tim talked about how Jacquie had grown up here but that he had moved to Tucson to join a medical practice, where he met his future bride. Here he picked up her hand and kissed it. I noticed her hand did not respond to the kiss, but she did murmur little agreeing sounds, ah and mm, that played behind his words like backup in a singing group.
Carlo mentioned we had our niece staying with us and that she might be interested in medical school. That was a lie of sorts, and I admired it. Tim said he knew some people and gave Carlo his card. I glanced and saw the “Internal Medicine” under his name. Then I remembered Mallory had said something about him being her husband’s physician.
“What do you do?” Tim asked, the only other standard question that hadn’t been asked.
“I’m retired from the U of A, philosophy,” Carlo said. “Brigid here, she’s the one with the interesting profession.”
I hate when he does that. “It’s only interesting to Carlo. I used to be in federal law enforcement. Copyright infringement investigations.”
They would have nodded blandly and moved on, but Carlo wouldn’t drop it. “Brigid is being modest. She was a special agent for the FBI. She foiled evildoers.” That widened eyes around the table. “Now she does private investigations.”
“Private…” was the first word Jacquie had uttered since we sat down. She fixed me with one of those stares, eyes all out on you while mind all inward. As if she wasn’t aware of our attention to her, Jacquie picked up her evening bag from her lap, took out a pen, and wrote something on the back of Tim’s business card that lay on the table between us. Tim scowled as he watched her but apparently could not object.
Then she stood up and leaned over the table, bracing herself on her hands. Her hands were flat on the table. Tim put one of his over hers but she didn’t relax them, didn’t invite his fingers to curl around hers. She smiled a too-wide smile. “How are your children, Lulu?” Jacquie asked, the lack of a conversational segue apparent to us all, which, if her voice hadn’t been so strident and her grin so wide, would still have made her sound a little crazy.
Lulu murmured that her children were doing well, thank you. The “well” came out as whispered regret.
“Amanda still in school?” Jacquie said it with a glare, as if she was accusing Amanda of torturing small animals.
Yes.
“And Ken. Peter was something of a bully, Joey said. But I liked Ken.” The words were darting pretty steadily from her mouth now that she had begun. “Is the youth group still active, Lulu? Are you still in charge?”
Yes, they were planning a kickball … but Lulu’s words trailed off as she realized there were no right ones to speak, that anything she would say would have the sound of a slap. So she stopped trying to talk altogether and stopped trying to look anything but miserable.
I thought Lulu was going to apologize, for something, for Jacquie’s grief, for her own children still being alive. Jacquie turned to me with a look that said Do you see? but I didn’t see at all.
“I’m so … sorry,” she said, all her anger collapsing into itself, though her apology was seemingly directed at only Carlo and me. “I … just … can’t … do this. I … thought I … could do it.”
Lulu turned her head as if she couldn’t face Jacquie’s ache. This was the moment
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