A Hole in the Universe - Mary McGarry Morris [171]
Delores kept talking as she drove slowly, erratically, braking, accelerating, coming in right angles, as always, spiraling into the center, gradually, directly, but as unobtrusively as possible without alarming the wild-eyed girl, all the while telling her how good life was going to be from this moment on. She could have pets and friends and a nice place to live, and all she had to do was want it badly enough.
Jada seemed almost amused. “Yeah? Well, if it’s that easy, then I should have the best life of anyone in this whole fucked-up world by now.”
“It’s not a fucked-up world.” Delores eased around the corner. “Believe me, it’s not.” The car was still moving when Jada opened her door and jumped out. Delores slammed on the brakes. The police station was three buildings ahead.
“Liar!” she screamed, heaving one Hummel and then the other off the side of the car. “You fat, fucking liar, you!”
She got out, talking all the while she advanced on the frantic girl. “All right, so maybe I’m fat, but I’m not a liar. I’m not like everyone else in your life. And you know I’m not, right? Because I don’t quit, I don’t give up ever, on anyone.”
Jada stood waiting, watching her come.
CHAPTER 27
Last night’s snow wouldn’t last long. The noonday streets were gray with slush. Dennis was parked in front of the house, doors locked, motor running. Gordon had called earlier to say this was the only time Delores could take him driving. He might be late, so if Dennis wanted to cancel, that was fine, they’d meet again next week. Dennis said he’d wait. He looked out the window. He was committed to this, didn’t want to break the streak. As long as he kept up his end, carried his share of the load, then maybe everything would be all right.
There was a new FOR SALE sign on Mrs. Jukas’s lawn. They kept getting knocked down or taken. Kids, Gordon said. Covered with snow, the little house didn’t look half-bad. Maybe someone would come along desperate enough to overlook what had happened there—and who lived next door. The tenement across the street was being fixed up, new windows and siding. The purple Navigator was gone. It had been five months since the driver was charged with Mrs. Jukas’s murder and the dealer with being an accessory. He shook his head. Gordon had been lucky. This time, anyway. Next time there might not be a witness. And Kaminski had even admitted it, privately, of course: There’d always be some cop somewhere thinking he never should have been let out in the first place.
Delores’s car pulled into the driveway, slowly, as if in two sections, the hood and then long tail end rising and sinking. He didn’t know which irritated him more, the ridiculous berm or seeing Gordon behind the wheel of that junk. Delores hurried over to say she hoped he hadn’t been waiting too long; some of the roads hadn’t been very well plowed. Gordon was apologizing. The back door of Delores’s car opened and a tall, skinny girl climbed out.
“We made it!” she cried as she pretended to stagger toward them. “All in one piece!”
“Dennis, this is Jada Fossum,” Delores said. “And Jada, this is Dr. Loomis, Gordon’s brother.”
“Yeah, I seen you before.” Her smile was alarming.
“But it’s nice to meet him, isn’t it?” Delores said.
Wincing, she held out her hand. Her fingernails were yellow and black, tiger-striped like Delores’s. “Yeah, that’s right. It is. Very nice to meet you. I’m sure,” she added with that almost threatening grin.
Even the touch of her hand was unsettling. A child who’d never been a child, she knew too much and wanted it known, especially by men. “Very nice to meet you, too, Jada. I’ve heard a lot about you,” he added to make something clear, though he couldn’t have said what.
“Only good stuff, right?” The edge in her voice was as sharp as her stare.
“Of course.” He smiled, then looked at Delores. “So how’re the lessons