Hush Page 7

  Worried that a vehicle will come up behind me and hit my truck, or worse yet, hit the stunned dog, I get out of the cab to shoo him off the road. “Hey, boy. You’re going to get squished, hurry up and go.” I point to the side. Instead of obeying my command, he trots up to me. It’s only when he gets close enough to the front of my truck that I recognize him.

  “Stinky. What the hell are you doing out here?”

  Either this dog is a brilliant escape artist or his master sucks at keeping him contained. He jumps up on me and I give him a quick pet. “All right, you might as well get in… again.”

  Stinky waits until he’s standing on the dry passenger seat before having a full body shake, projecting dirty water all over the cab. “Thanks, pal.”

  When we pull onto the long driveway leading to the house, I see a yellow flicker through the trees. “What the hell is that?” The closer we get, the more apparent it is the lights are. They’re coming from the inside of the cottage. I’m almost positive that I turned off every light in the house before I left for work this morning.

  Annie.

  Maybe she finally grew tired of running. Maybe she finally realised that the best place for her is here with me.

  As soon as I park, I hurry to grab my bag and let Stinky out. I’m so excited to see her that despite the strong wind and stinging rain, I almost float to the door.

  I open the front door and Stinky bounds in, leaving muddy paw prints on the floor. I hope he doesn’t scare the hell of out Annie, or leap on her with his muddy paws, but I remind myself that she’s Annie. She’ll be on the floor in seconds, rubbing his ears and cooing. Had I already forgotten that about her?

  I drop my bag and then call for her. There’s no answer. Maybe she’s sleeping or in the shower. I’m walking towards the bedroom when I hear a rustling sound coming from the kitchen. Stinky hears it too. His ears perk up and he stands at attention.

  I feel the first flicker of apprehension. Turning around, I change direction. With my arm extended as far as I can, I push the swinging door open, while Stinky, as thanks to me for saving his life, hides behind my legs .

  Denny is sitting at the kitchen table with a glass in front of him and a smoke in his hand.

  My voice loud. “What in the hell are you doing here?” Stinky whines softly.

  “Jade.” He turns his head to look at me. His eyes are bright red. “I’m glad you’re here.”

  “Get the fuck out.”

  “I can’t. Not without talking to you first.”

  “Want to bet?”

  “I’m in a really bad situation.” He sniffs. “I need your help.”

  “I don’t give a shit about your problems. I’m not helping anyone who walked away while my girlfriend was getting fucking raped.” I’m not helping a murderer. I hold back the words, though my stomach twists with fear at the thought.

  “Jade, you’ve got to listen to me, seriously. You’re my sister. Mom’s gone. I’ve got no one else.”

  I can’t even believe that he’s using that angle. I’m so shocked that, for a moment, I forget the events of the past couple of weeks. “Denny, what a crock of shit. You’ve treated me like garbage since I was in junior high. It’s a little late to bond.”

  “You have every right to hate me.” His voice actually breaks. “I’d hate me. I kind of do hate me, actually.”

  I stare at my brother. His eyes are red, and I wonder if it’s just due to some kind of substance, but then a tear leaks out. He quickly wipes it away. Something in me, some small, unknown part, wavers. “If I listen to you for a few minutes,” I say, “Do you promise to leave?”

  He nods and then points to the chair across from him. Reluctantly, I sit down and fold my hands in front of me.

  He tells me how he’s been in the police’s radar, and how they’ve been inundating him with questions about Robbie. “What the hell would I know?” He takes a long drink from his glass.

  “You’re saying that you had nothing to do with it?”

  “No fucking way.” His voice is gruff. “I’m many things, but I’m not a murderer.”

  The softer part of me wavers again. Then I remember Annie. “What happened that night, Denny? Why didn’t you help Annie?”

  He stares at me. “What the hell are you talking about?” For the first time since we were kids, I see a glimpse of sincerity in his eyes. “Why would I help her?”

  “Why?” I feel a flash of rage. “You are twice the fucking size of Robbie. Why wouldn’t you?”

  Something seems to click in his brain, though he still looks confused. “Jade, Annie didn’t need helping.”

  What the hell is he saying? Is he actually suggesting that she enjoyed it? Being drugged and fucked by some drunk asshole? Or did he just not realise what was happening? Assumed Annie wasn’t drugged, that she was clean and sober and willing to sleep with a disgusting sleazebag? “As usual, you’ve got a distorted view on reality, Denny.”

  I don’t know if it’s because of my anger or because I’m thinking of Annie, but tears spring from my eyes and down my cheeks. Denny gets up and grabs me a box of tissue from the cupboard.

  “I’m sorry,” he mumbles, sliding the box to me. “For everything. For being an unbearable prick.”

  I grab a tissue and stare at him. “Did you start taking your meds again or something?”

  He nods. “I got tired of my head feeling like it was in a tornado.”

  I relax, but not much. “Why are the cops up your ass if you’re so innocent?”

  “Apparently someone called in anonymously and said that he and I were here, by our dock arguing the night he went missing.”

  “Were you?”

  “Yeah, I mean…I think so. From what I can remember, I was trying to get him to come back to West Van with me, but he wanted to stay.”

  “Yeah, to rape my girlfriend.”

  “I don’t know, Jade.” He rubs his head. “I don’t remember a whole lot.”

  “Whatever, Denny. I know better than to believe you. It’s not like you’ve been the pillar of honesty over the years.”

  “Jade, I’m a suspect. I’m scared, all right? I was really high that night, but the things I do remember about that night are clear.”

  “So, you’ve heard it was a murder, and not an accident?”

  “Yeah, the cops mentioned that.”

  “Did they say how?”

  He shakes his head.

  I sigh. “What is it you think I can help you with?”

  “I think someone is trying to frame me.” His eyes are wide, and for a moment I doubt that he’s on any meds at all. “I need a place to stay for a few days, just to clear my head and figure out my next move.”

  I shake my head. “You’re being paranoid. No one is framing you. And if you really are innocent, you have no reason to worry.”

  “I’m serious, Jade. I’ve got a feeling that someone is trying to make me take the fall for this.”

  “You can’t stay here. If Annie comes back and sees you, she’ll be gone forever.” Denny doesn’t say anything.; He just stares at me with those watery eyes. He looks about ten years younger. I bite my lip, then I let out a sigh. “I’ll call Silva bay and see if there’s any vacant B&Bs you can stay at for a couple of nights. The cops have been asking questions around here too, so we shouldn’t use your real name.”

  I can’t believe my own words even as they leave my mouth. I’m actually helping him. I’m helping the person that ruined my life, intentionally or not.

  I contact the closest B&B. When an elderly lady answers, I tell her that I have too many family members here and not enough beds. I’m getting good at this half-lying thing. When I get off the phone, Denny tells me that he’s not into staying at a B&B with strangers and that he’ll figure something out himself.

  * * *

  Standing on the bank of the river, my mind drifts with the sound of the rushing water. She’s got to come home. She can’t just give up on us this easily. If I could only speak to h
er.

  “Jade, grab the damn net,” Tim yells.

  Shaking off the pain, I focus on the task at hand. I’m surprised I haven’t been fired yet. Most days I’m spaced out, thinking about things and not putting my regular effort into my job.

  At the lunch table, Tim sits down beside me, shakes his head and then takes a swig of his coffee. “What the hell is wrong with you lately, Jade? Your productivity is gone to shit.”

  “Yeah, sorry about that. Things have been crazy lately on the home front.” I reach into my bag and pull out my smokes. My fingers touch something unfamiliar, and I pull it out. Tim’s face brightens. “Oh, shit,” I say, handing him his insulin case. “I totally forgot to give this back, I’m so sorry.”

  “It’s fine. I had another at home.” He takes the case and smiles at me. “At least I didn’t forget it in Hank’s truck, eh?”

  God, I’d been so spaced lately. Despite his attitude, I still feel guilty—what if he’d gone into diabetic shock and I had his only medicine? I need to get my head on straight. I stuff my smokes in my pocket, then take a bite of my ham and cheese sandwich.

  “Hey, did you hear about that homicide on Gabriola?” Tim asks suddenly. “The guy found in the water?”

  My mood dips. “I heard something on the news. I didn’t really pay attention.”

  Tim raises his grey brows. “I thought you’d be more interested, considering it happened so close to your home turf.”

  “The guy is dead, Tim. I’m pretty sure my knowing isn’t gonna change that.” I get up, grab what’s left of my lunch and head to my truck for a smoke.

  The rest of the day, I spend on autopilot, just going through the motions.

  On my way home, Denny texts me. He tells me that he’s at the cottage, playing with Stinky and cleaning up the property. I fight back my automatic response, which is to tell him he shouldn’t be at the cottage when I’m not there. I don’t like the idea of him there, but I’m also not keen on rocking the boat. He’s been so normal lately, even more lucid than when Dad was alive. It makes me wonder how many issues stemmed from Dad involvement with him.

  Unfortunately, I’m not too optimistic that it will last. I can’t help but anticipate him quitting his meds and starting to do drugs and act erratic again—that’s the Denny I’m used to. I push the speed limit on my way home.

  When I pull in the driveway, I see Stinky and my brother in the yard, playing. Denny is covered in wet grass and dirt and so is the dog. I hop out of the truck, and they both run up to me, smiling and sweaty. “Denny, I don’t know if being here is a good idea.”

  His face falls a little. “I just wanted to clean up a bit.”

  “What if the cops came? Or Annie?”

  “We’ve been on the lookout, haven’t we, Stink?”

  Stinky looks up at him and wags his tail. I smile despite myself. “You do know that he’s not our dog, right? I still need to put up notices. He has another owner.”

  “You found him twice. I think he’s your dog.”

  I shake my head and walk to the house. As soon as I open the door, the smell of food hits me. Denny walks in behind me, and I turn to him. He looks at the floor, almost shyly. “I made dinner.”

  He went into my house when I wasn’t there. I want to tell him, to scold him, but I can’t. It’s surreal—like he’s not even the same person. The Denny I knew wouldn’t lift a finger for me. The Denny I knew couldn’t even cook.

  Ten minutes later, I find out that I’m not entirely wrong as Denny opens the oven and lets out a cloud of smoke, revealing a fully cremated lump of roast. He waves the smoke away with a tea towel so the smoke alarm doesn’t go off, and Stinky quickly vacates into the living room. After I open a window and Denny throws the burnt carcass into the sink, we look at each other, and I start to giggle. Denny cracks a smile, and we both laugh.

  We decide to go to the marina for dinner. Before we head out, I print off a handful of “FOUND” notices with a picture of Stinky and a brief description. When we get to the restaurant, I tack a notice onto the pegboard beside the entrance. I feel less guilty after doing it, but I find myself hoping that it doesn’t work.

  The place is packed, with not a single stool free at the long wooden bar. We settle in for a long wait, folding our arms and leaning against a wall by the waitress station. We don’t talk, we just watch the patrons eat and laugh. I realise that this is the first time in my memory that I’ve stood quietly with my brother without feeling on edge. Certainly, the first time since I’d come out. I glance at him. His face is blank, but relaxed. I wonder if he’s thinking the same thing. I want to mention it, but I don’t dare. I don’t want to snap the delicate thread that’s only just started forming.

  Over the din of too-loud folk music and talking there is a loud bang, and I turn to see a woman of about forty standing in the entrance, like a cowboy surveying a saloon. Her blonde hair is piled elegantly on her head—though a couple pieces have fallen out of place—and she’s put on makeup like warpaint. As she passes us on her way to the waitress station, she blasts us with the reek of booze. “I’m looking for my asshole husband,” she announces to the waitress, who immediately looks concerned.

  “Great, a pre-dinner show,” I mumble. “All I want is to eat and go home.”

  Denny gives me a look, and then he nudges me. I look at him, shocked. When was the last time he’d nudged me? “Don’t be such a killjoy, Jade.”

  The waitress tries to coax the woman to the exit, but the woman stands her ground and scans the tables, heavily-lined eyes narrowed. Then, she’s off, marching unsteadily towards a table with a clean-cut man and a pretty girl with black hair. I make it a point to avoid other people’s drama, but I can’t take my eyes away.

  “Ten bucks says hair is going to be pulled,” Denny says.

  “I don’t bet, and we shouldn’t even be watching,” I say, still fixated on the storming woman.

  The woman starts yelling, even before she reaches the table. The couple look at her in horror. When she reaches the table, the woman grabs their pitcher of water, holds it over the head of the woman sitting at the table, and dumps it.

  “No way,” Denny breathes.

  People at tables near them stand and back up, holding their napkins in their hands. The now soaked woman stands up, flicks her drenched hair over her shoulder, and lunges at the drunk blonde. The water pitcher cartwheels across the floor as they fall to the ground, the dark-haired girl on top; we get only a glimpse of her yanking loose the blonde’s elegant hairdo before the staff closes in. The husband makes weak attempts at helping, and his face flushes as he dances around the pair of fighting women and restaurant staff.

  “Gee, do you think he was cheating on his wife?” Denny says.

  “God, I’m not sure.” I look at him, rolling my eyes.”

  “Damn straight he was.”

  Finally, one of the brawny cooks emerges from the back, leading both women by the arm toward the exit. As they pass us by, the blonde glances at me. I’m still grinning—I try to wipe it away. Her lip twitches and she looks me up and down. “What you laughing at, hunny? What the hell even are you, a dude or a dyke?”

  I know there’s no point of responding—arguing with a drunk is a losing battle. Then, I see Denny straighten next to me. “What did you say, you drunk old hag?”

  “Denny. It’s not worth it.”

  Just before the cook gets them through the door, the blonde turns around and sneers at me. “You got a dick, don’t you?”

  “No, no dick,” Denny says. “But she has bigger balls than your husband.”

  Oh great, now everyone in the place is staring at us like we’re crazy, too.

  The waitress walks by and gives Denny a disapproving look. Denny points to the disheveled table in the middle of the dining room. “So, I guess there’s a free table now, huh?”

  A laugh explodes from me, but Denny’s face is still stormy. The cook, who had just returned from expelling the two women, stops in front of u
s. He tells us it’s probably best we leave. Denny goes to say something but I grab his arm.

  “Let’s just go, okay?” I tell him. “I come here a lot. I don’t want to leave them with a bad impression.”

  I’m scared Denny has reached that point he often has in the past—the point where he doesn’t listen to reason. But then he just nods at me, and we head out. I stare at him as we walk.

  We stop at the Pizza Shack before heading back to the cottage, then we eat in front of the T.V. with our feet on the coffee table. Stinky sits beside us and begs for scraps. At one point he blesses us with one of his trademark emissions. I throw the piece of pizza I’m eating in the box and cover my nose, and Denny turns to me, a look of horror on his face.

  Denny gets up to get us a couple of drinks from the kitchen. On his way back, he staggers and sticks out his chest, imitating the wasted blonde from earlier. If our parents could see us now, sitting here, getting along and having a good time together, they’d be blown away.

  And yet, no matter how much I’m somehow enjoying my brother’s company, I can’t help but be paranoid about Annie. Even though there’s not much chance she would be coming back tonight, I’m scared at the thought of her walking through the door and seeing him. She believes that he was somehow involved in her being raped, but despite everything, when I look at him now, I just can’t picture it.

  He said that he’d left that night, that Annie hadn’t needed saving. He looked genuinely confused.

  Absently, I flip to the news. The anchor is talking about Vancouver headlines. Then he mentions a murder investigation.

  Denny and I both sit up and lean toward the TV.

  The body of Robbie James was found in a bay on Gabriola Island…

  Believed to be a homicide…

  A person of interest…

  Denny stands up fast. “That’s me. The cops are interested in me. They think I did it.” He’s breathing quickly, arms rigid, and I realise that he’s hyperventilating.