Read Online Monkey Wrench by Terri Thayer - Free Book Online Page B

eyes. Her voice was hoarse. “I’m fine. I didn’t know what to do, Dewey. He’s not answering me. Is he …?”
    Her shoulders heaved. She twisted away from me, and picked at the wet grass on her shoes.
    I looked back at the car. Wyatt was not moving. My stomach flopped. This was not good. But I was as worried about Vangie as I was about Wyatt. She seemed out of it.
    “Vangie, talk to me.” I remembered the smell of marijuana at the rally earlier. “Have you taken anything?”
    She snapped her head up. “No. You know better. I don’t do drugs.”
    Vangie stood, shaking off her lethargy. She started toward the car. I followed her.
    We were in a quiet residential neighborhood. The night was clear and our voices seemed to carry. I looked around to see if anyone had woken up. No lights were on anywhere except for a porch light on a small house across the street. Wind chimes dangled from the cross post and tinkled in the light breeze.
    I couldn’t have been more than ten when my grandmother Pellicano had told me to hang wind chimes on the porch to keep my man from roaming. My mother had laughed when I’d asked for a set. She assured me my father wasn’t going anywhere. She’d been right. She was the one who left too soon.
    Vangie paced.
    I heard nothing from Wyatt. “Did he take something? Has he been sick? Does he have allergies?”
    He’d looked like a healthy kid a few hours ago, but that didn’t mean much.
    Vangie moaned, “No. I don’t know. I was driving him home. He was having trouble breathing. He threw up on himself, and …”
    Her trunk twisted as if reenacting what Wyatt had been through.
    “I tried to save him, but I didn’t know what was going on, and then he was gone. Like that.”
    I realized I’d not been hearing what I expected—sirens. “Vangie, did you call 911?”
    She shook her head sheepishly. “My phone is out of juice now.”
    “Take mine.”
    I watched to make sure she called, then went to Wyatt. I reached in to feel for a pulse but couldn’t find one. His body was warm but he was so very still. His chest wasn’t moving, and I couldn’t feel any breath.
    I felt completely inadequate. I didn’t know CPR. If Wyatt was alive, there wasn’t anything I could do to save him.
    He didn’t seem alive to me, though.
    I couldn’t see any blood, although I knew that blood could have soaked into the black upholstery and I wouldn’t be able to see it. At least from the front, he didn’t have any knife or gunshot wounds.
    He might have died of natural causes, but there was nothing natural about dying in the front seat of Vangie’s car.
    Wyatt had been in the midst of a huge crowd the last time I’d seen him. Now he was alone and dead. What had happened between now and then?
    I grabbed a picnic quilt from the trunk of my car and wrapped it around Vangie, pushing her until she was seated again. She clutched at the quilt and I realized she recognized it was one my mother had made. The pink flowers had long ago faded to soft white. It was limp from repeated washings.
    Vangie’s other hand picked at a zit on her cheek.
    What had she and Wyatt been doing since I saw them? I peeled away her fingers to stop the mutilation of her face. “Is there something you want to tell me?” I asked.
    Vangie shook her head but I couldn’t tell if it was voluntary or not.
    The siren noise grew closer and Vangie closed her eyes and rocked on the curb. I put my arm around her. Once the police were here, I’d lose her. She’d be taken downtown and questioned. For hours.
    Vangie’s long brown lashes were wet with tears. I needed her to wake up and clue me in.
    “Vangie,” I said, keeping my voice low but finding a serious tone. I sat down next to her. “The cops will be here any minute. Is there something you want to tell me? I promise I won’t tell Buster or anyone else if you don’t want me to.”
    Vangie’s head slumped farther. I squeezed her upper arm. She brought her eyes to mine but still no