Snow Blind - Lori G. Armstrong [77]
could possibly love you? You sit up here, wallowing in worthless shit, dealing with dark aspects of human nature that don’t allow you to believe in basic human happiness.”
Wow. Those were some megadoses of self-righteousness in her prenatal vitamins. I waited; I knew she wasn’t done. She’d probably saved the best for last.
“Are you ever gonna allow yourself to be happy?”
Kim asked in her lilting Southern accent.
Count to ten, Julie. Think before you speak. Fuck that.
“Yes. I’ll be extremely fucking happy when I don’t have to hear Zen happiness lectures from you, Kim. Jesus.”
She flinched.
“And since you don’t want me, the little black cloud of doom, sullying your perfect wedding day, maybe you oughta see if Kathie Lee Gifford will beam sunshine by your side as you float down the aisle. She’s performing in Vegas. Bet she’d even sing some sappy tune.”
“Julie, I didn’t mean—”
“Yes, you did. Accept me for who I am, Kim. Accept that I’m not the one who’s changed; you are.”
I lit up. That’d get rid of her fast.
Kevin’s computer beeped, signaling my records search ended. “If you’ll excuse me, I have some worthless shit to 273
wallow in.”
I spun in the office chair, hoping this insipid conversation was at an end, too. I didn’t hear her leave but I knew she was gone. I suspected I’d have lousy concentration but the information on the screen was disturbing enough to make me forget yet another argument in my life.
Pertinent info on the dead guy. Melvin Canter, forty-four, born in Sturgis. Graduated from Sturgis Brown High School. Joined the U.S. Army at age twenty. Honorably discharged four years later. No marriage certificates. Spotty employment records, mostly janitorial work. The long stretches between employments usually meant incarceration.
I kept reading. Yikes. Melvin Canter wasn’t just a registered sex offender; he was a convicted sex offender. Three counts of sexual assault over a twenty-year period, filed in three states. None in South Dakota. Melvin did five years in Nevada for the last conviction. He’d moved back here in November. As far as I could tell, he’d registered in Meade County, not Bear Butte County. That was a no-no. But why hadn’t Sheriff
Richards said anything to me or Dad about Melvin’s sex offender status?
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It appeared Melvin used his brother’s address to register, when in fact, Don and Dale told me Melvin lived with his mother in our small county.
Could it be that Dad hadn’t known about the
convictions when he’d hired Melvin? And later he’d found out? Was that why they’d fought in Chaska’s Feed Store?
How was I supposed to get answers to what’d gone down, if I couldn’t ask Dad about it? I picked up the phone anyway and dialed the ranch.
Brittney answered. “Hello?”
I hadn’t spoken to her since her accident. “Hey, girl.”
Pause. “You’re really mad at me, aren’t you?”
Yes. “That was a stupid stunt you pulled.”
“I knew you’d say that. I knew you’d chew me out first thing instead of being nice and understanding.”
Another count-to-ten moment in my life. The fact she wasn’t the least bit sorry for all the trouble and worry she’d caused not just me, but everyone else, bothered me. “Is Dad around?”
“No, he and DJ went someplace. Did you wanna talk to my mom?”
“No, actually, I’d like to talk to you.”
“I should’ve known the only reason you called was to lecture me.”
Talk about surly. “This isn’t about lecturing you. This is about the hired hand, Melvin Canter.”
Her immediate silence was disturbing. Now that I 275
thought about it, she’d been unnaturally quiet the last time I’d brought up his name.
“Britt?”
“I know you found him after I wrecked the tractor
. . . and I . . .”
“What?”
“I’m glad he’s dead.”
A shiver ran up my spine. “What? Why?”
After a ten-second hesitation, she blurted, “I might go to hell for saying that, but I was so happy when he didn’t show up for work. I didn’t like him. At all. He was creepy and icky and had these weird googly eyes that would follow you around all the time. Me and DJ
hated doin’ chores with him. Hated