Brown. She put away her files.
Tomorrow was another day. Right now, she had to go pick up Katie.
The drive over took less than ten minutes.
“Did you have a good day?” Bree asked when they were in the
car, heading home.
Katie worked at a facility that employed handicapped people.
They shipped small machine parts all over the country and were responsible for
wrapping and packaging. The people running the place were fantastic with the
employees. Katie loved going to work since all her friends were there. They had
fun together.
“Mrs. Mimms said I did good work,” Katie said. “I think she was
happy. She made the happy face.”
They’d been working on emotions with cue cards and internet
pictures in the evenings. Katie was high functioning, but she did have autism.
She had trouble with emotions, both displaying them appropriately and telling
the mood of others.
“I’m sure she was very happy. Did you have a good lunch?”
Food was a touchy subject. Katie only liked a handful of
things, and she wouldn’t eat at all if the food on her plate was touching.
“Chicken fingers. Good.”
Bree relaxed a little. It worried her when Katie skipped meals.
She was such a skinny little thing already.
“We got someone new,” her sister informed her. “He’s just like
me. Except he doesn’t talk to anyone. His name is Scott.”
“Do you like him?”
“He’s quiet.”
Which meant she liked him. She gave a full report on the way
home, then went through her coming-home routine, putting her things away,
washing her hands, setting the table, while Bree made some hamburgers for
dinner.
“Can we do a puzzle later?”
“Sure.” Bree pulled the French fries from the oven—baked to
save some calories—and thought how much she liked their evenings together. Katie
was sweet and gentle, and part of her life irrevocably.
She didn’t care if the few boyfriends she’d had over the years
couldn’t deal with that. They’d wanted her, but they hadn’t wanted her
“baggage,” as the last one had put it. Thing was, she would rather have her
sister than a jerk in her life, anyway. She had said
that. With a Southern-belle smile on her face.
Still, the good things in her life far outweighed the bad.
She thought of the pictures in the manila envelope, the first
time she’d allowed herself to think of them since she’d gotten them away from
Jamie Cassidy.
Trouble was coming again.
Just thinking about that made her tired.
Why now?
She would end it for good this time, she promised herself. She
wasn’t going to let this touch Katie, put her in danger.
As she turned to put the food on the table, movement outside
caught her eye.
Did someone just step behind her garage?
She set the fries on the table. “I’m going to put the garbage
out, then we can eat.”
“Okay,” Katie called back, cheerful and oblivious to danger,
which was the way Bree meant to keep things.
She bagged up the garbage. Then she slipped her service
revolver into her waistband before she walked outside through the back to
confront her past that was rising up once again to claim her.
Chapter Five
Her mother’s oversize garden sculptures populated the backyard, same as the front, their shapes too familiar to look eerie, even in the twilight. Bree opened the door without a sound and ducked to the right, into the warm evening air and the cover of the bushes. And then recognized the man standing by the shed—Jamie Cassidy.
You have got to be kidding me. She ground her teeth together.
She nearly sprung up to yell at him. But maybe teaching him a lesson would be a more productive way to prevent him from spying on her again. So she kept down, skulked around the rock garden and snuck up behind him, using the statues as cover.
She didn’t have much in the backyard as far as tall plants went, just a few butterfly bushes, with more color added by generous clumps of black-eyed Susans and asters that were putting on quite a show of yellow and purple
Tomorrow was another day. Right now, she had to go pick up Katie.
The drive over took less than ten minutes.
“Did you have a good day?” Bree asked when they were in the
car, heading home.
Katie worked at a facility that employed handicapped people.
They shipped small machine parts all over the country and were responsible for
wrapping and packaging. The people running the place were fantastic with the
employees. Katie loved going to work since all her friends were there. They had
fun together.
“Mrs. Mimms said I did good work,” Katie said. “I think she was
happy. She made the happy face.”
They’d been working on emotions with cue cards and internet
pictures in the evenings. Katie was high functioning, but she did have autism.
She had trouble with emotions, both displaying them appropriately and telling
the mood of others.
“I’m sure she was very happy. Did you have a good lunch?”
Food was a touchy subject. Katie only liked a handful of
things, and she wouldn’t eat at all if the food on her plate was touching.
“Chicken fingers. Good.”
Bree relaxed a little. It worried her when Katie skipped meals.
She was such a skinny little thing already.
“We got someone new,” her sister informed her. “He’s just like
me. Except he doesn’t talk to anyone. His name is Scott.”
“Do you like him?”
“He’s quiet.”
Which meant she liked him. She gave a full report on the way
home, then went through her coming-home routine, putting her things away,
washing her hands, setting the table, while Bree made some hamburgers for
dinner.
“Can we do a puzzle later?”
“Sure.” Bree pulled the French fries from the oven—baked to
save some calories—and thought how much she liked their evenings together. Katie
was sweet and gentle, and part of her life irrevocably.
She didn’t care if the few boyfriends she’d had over the years
couldn’t deal with that. They’d wanted her, but they hadn’t wanted her
“baggage,” as the last one had put it. Thing was, she would rather have her
sister than a jerk in her life, anyway. She had said
that. With a Southern-belle smile on her face.
Still, the good things in her life far outweighed the bad.
She thought of the pictures in the manila envelope, the first
time she’d allowed herself to think of them since she’d gotten them away from
Jamie Cassidy.
Trouble was coming again.
Just thinking about that made her tired.
Why now?
She would end it for good this time, she promised herself. She
wasn’t going to let this touch Katie, put her in danger.
As she turned to put the food on the table, movement outside
caught her eye.
Did someone just step behind her garage?
She set the fries on the table. “I’m going to put the garbage
out, then we can eat.”
“Okay,” Katie called back, cheerful and oblivious to danger,
which was the way Bree meant to keep things.
She bagged up the garbage. Then she slipped her service
revolver into her waistband before she walked outside through the back to
confront her past that was rising up once again to claim her.
Chapter Five
Her mother’s oversize garden sculptures populated the backyard, same as the front, their shapes too familiar to look eerie, even in the twilight. Bree opened the door without a sound and ducked to the right, into the warm evening air and the cover of the bushes. And then recognized the man standing by the shed—Jamie Cassidy.
You have got to be kidding me. She ground her teeth together.
She nearly sprung up to yell at him. But maybe teaching him a lesson would be a more productive way to prevent him from spying on her again. So she kept down, skulked around the rock garden and snuck up behind him, using the statues as cover.
She didn’t have much in the backyard as far as tall plants went, just a few butterfly bushes, with more color added by generous clumps of black-eyed Susans and asters that were putting on quite a show of yellow and purple
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