She's Not There - Madison Marla (книги без сокращений .txt) 📗

Lisa picked up the shot glass and followed suit.

TJ sat down with her elbows on her knees. “Got a story to tell you. About me. And Janeen.”

This must be serious. “All right.”

“Everyone loved Janeen’s husband, Mario. I did, too; he was a great guy. And talented. He sang with a group of jazz musicians who made it pretty big in town. When they broke up, he couldn’t get another gig. He started drinking—turned ugly when he had too much. Started roughing Janeen up if she complained when he came home late, drunk. She didn’t tell anybody about it for a long time. She even tried to hide it from me, but I noticed a nasty bruise on her neck one night. She tried to blame it on playing with the kids. I knew better, seen too many women like her, too many bruises just like hers. After a while, you can spot them a block away.”

Lisa sighed. “I know. I’ve worked with many of those women.” As Lisa listened to the unfolding drama of TJ, Janeen, and Mario, Janeen’s abusive husband, she wanted to go to TJ and put her arm around her. But she knew the story had to flow without interruption, without any reaction, and most importantly, without judgment.

“He went to rehab after I took him aside and explained what I’d do to him if it happened again. But he was only there a week when they sent him home. Said he could work with them as an outpatient. What a joke. He started drinkin’ again when he was still going for his supposed counseling. I told Janeen to leave him, get a divorce. But she loved him, still believed he would change. You know how that goes.

“Next thing, I get a hysterical call from her one night when I’m on shift. She told me she called 911. He had her trapped in the bathroom, bangin’ on the door, yellin’ at her to let him in. We just happened to be in the neighborhood at the time. I got there before the emergency responders, ran in before my partner could get out of the car. When I found them, he’d just busted down the door and was goin’ for her with a knife. He lunged for me when I told him to drop it.” Her knuckles whitened as she clutched the shot glass she held. “I shot him.”

Lisa poured TJ another inch of tequila. “TJ, you did what you had to do. You saved your sister’s life.”

“I didn’t have to shoot to kill. Had time to disable him. My gut took over—I wanted the bastard dead.”

“That’s understandable. She’s your sister.”

TJ snorted. “Yeah. Understandable. Only good thing happened that night is she got the kids the hell out before he went wild.”

Lisa said softly, “That’s a terrible secret to carry around all these years.” The time had come—she had to tell TJ about her own past. She’d never told anyone the whole story, had carried it like a hidden birthmark all these years. “You aren’t the only one with a secret in her past.”

Looking a little less glum, TJ raised her eyebrows.

Lisa rose from the couch. “I have something to show you.”

She led TJ to a room in the basement. In a dark corner behind the furnace, stood a tall, locked cabinet. She pulled out a key ring and opened it. Lined up inside were a dozen rifles.

TJ gaped. “These are yours?”

“They were my grandfather’s. I inherited them with the house. I grew up with guns. All the men in my family hunted, and as soon as I was old enough to hold a rifle, my grandfather taught me to shoot.”

“You hunted?”

“No. I never could do it. But I was fascinated with guns and loved to go to target practice with him.” She picked up a rifle, holding it almost lovingly.

“That one’s quite the cannon.”

“It’s a 30.06. He used it for deer hunting, but it’s a bit of overkill for deer, although it’s a popular weapon for the sport.”

Lisa handed it to her. TJ held the rifle, admiring its heft. She passed it back, looking like she was wondering where Lisa was going with all this.

Lisa put the gun back, locked the cabinet, and gestured for TJ to follow her. They went upstairs, and Lisa handed her a coat. They walked across the driveway to a large shed where a motion-sensored light went on at their approach. Lisa unlocked the doors. In the middle of the shed sat a matched pair of shiny, dark blue snowmobiles.

TJ’s face brightened. “We’re going for a ride? Never been on one, might be fun.”

“Not with all the tequila we drank. Some other time.”

Lisa walked over to a large wooden box once used for firewood. She fumbled with a key, opened the padlocked box and lifted out a rifle identical to the one she’d shown TJ in the house. TJ took it from her and looked it over.

“Same rifle. No?”

“Same rifle, yes.” Lisa said. “But what’s different?”

“This baby has a special sight on it—like on a sniper’s rifle.” She looked up at Lisa. “Bet you were good. Must be a story behind this cannon.”

Lisa took the gun back and reversed the process she’d gone through getting it out.

“There is. But it’s going to take a lot more tequila to tell it.”

Another shot of tequila later, Lisa and TJ sat across the table from each other. TJ couldn’t imagine what Lisa would reveal about her past. How bad could it be? Lisa—all white bread and wasp—how bad could it be?

Lisa’s hands gripped the bottle of tequila, her nails peeling the label. “I told you the short version of this, but there’s a lot more to it. After we separated and my ex threatened to sue me for custody of Paige, I nearly lost my mind.”

TJ reached over, took the bottle from Lisa, and poured them another drink.

“I talked to an attorney. He said nothing could prevent Lawrence from trying to get custody, even though it was unlikely he’d win. I couldn’t live with ‘unlikely.’ Lawrence was a tyrant, a total control freak. He started disciplining her harshly before she was even two-years-old, I didn’t want him raising Paige, and I couldn’t imagine living without her.”

She looked at TJ. “You must have some idea of what I was going through. You probably had similar feelings when your brother-in-law was alive.”

TJ nodded.

Lisa said, “One night I dreamt I shot the bastard. The dream stayed with me for days. He threatened me again and warned me he’d contacted the best attorney in family law and said I wouldn’t have a chance of getting custody of my daughter.

“After that I started thinking about it, about actually killing him. Whenever Paige was with him, I spent my time refreshing my skills with the 30.06. I had an elaborate plan in place, but the gist of it was I’d follow him when he went hunting. I’d find just the right spot, take him down, and then pray it would look like a hunting accident. Now when I think about it, I realize how naive it was.” She downed the shot TJ poured. Her words, while not slurred, had lost their usual crispness. “But you know what? It was a pretty damn good plan.”

“What happened? The jerk is still alive and you got custody, right?”

“Yes, he’s still breathing and I got custody of Paige. But it wasn’t because I won a big legal battle or because Lawrence had a change of heart. Ironically, I was saved from my madness when he met someone else. He fell head-over-heels with a nineteen-year-old, and all of a sudden he couldn’t wait to finalize the divorce. She wanted a big wedding, and a life with no encumbrances from his previous marriage.”

TJ sifted through it, amazed at Lisa’s story.

“Aren’t you going to ask me if I would have gone through with it?”

“Figured you’d get around to it if you wanted to tell me.”

“I believe I would have. I would have shot him.”

“You sound pretty sure.”

“I have to tell you everything I planned in preparation.” Lisa put on a pot of coffee. When it was ready, Lisa cradled a mug of steaming coffee, and began, ““My plan to get rid of Lawrence began with the rifle. I started refreshing my shooting skills at a remote spot near Beaver Dam. I was good with it, even won a few matches when I was a kid. I bought its twin, the one I have locked in the shed, from a dealer at a gun show—a parking lot deal. Scary, really, how easy it was to get as long as I had enough money to grease his palm. I’d dressed like a man for the occasion, mustache and all.”