A Hole In The Universe Part 40

"Look, I don't think you understand. I don't have much time here, and I gotta see her, so get the f.u.c.k outta here before something happens."

Delores took another step, hands raised as if to ready herself for whatever came next. "Are you threatening me?"

"No. I'm f.u.c.king telling you," he said, coming toward her.

She put her cell phone to her ear. "Nine, one, one," she yelled, still dialing as he grabbed it and smashed it onto the porch floor. He ran down the steps.

"Delores!" Jada opened the door as Polie got into the Navigator and drove off. She hurried out, picked up the cracked phone, and listened, afraid a voice in her ear would demand to know what the problem was and where. When she came back, Delores stood just inside the doorway, trying to catch her breath. "It doesn't work." Jada held it out. She kept glancing past Delores, as if at any moment the bedroom door would swing open.

"The battery's dead," Delores gasped, hand at her heaving chest. "What was that all about? What did he want? What was so important?"

"I don't know. He's just an a.s.shole, that's all."

"Was it about your mother? Is she home?"

She saw the sweaty woman's shrewd eyes move between the closed doors. Like her, Delores had that extra sense, she just knew things, things beyond the telling. "He had a buy he wanted me to do. But I said no and he got mad."

"A buy. You mean drugs?"

"Yeah."

"Are you hungry, Jada?" Delores asked, hugging herself.

"I think so. I don't know, I forget." She slipped the statues into her pockets.

Jada had eaten half her French fries before they pulled out of the McDonald's lot. Delores hadn't ordered anything. She felt sick to her stomach. The girl's head kept nodding back and forth, her rabbity cunning distorted by this gla.s.sy-eyed euphoria. She was high, but there was something else, something that had filled Delores with dread the minute she had stepped over the threshold. It clung to her still, like grease on her skin. She shouldn't have gone back. Now that she had, she barely knew what to say, much less what to do with the girl. "Do you need anything while we're out?"

Instead of answering, Jada chuckled softly, like a hunched cat purring as it ate.

"Anything from the drugstore?" She pointed ahead. "I have to get shampoo."

"Sure."

Delores was done, but she continued to move slowly up and down the aisles, so that Jada wouldn't think she was being rushed back home. Yet she had the feeling that they were both killing time, going through the motions, each waiting for the other to strike. Jada was still at the front of the store. Delores watched her pick magazines from the rack, stare at the covers, then put them back.

"Want one?" Delores asked, coming down the aisle, her basket filled with shampoo, a yellow plastic duck for the tub, coloring books and crayons for May Loo.

"Sure," Jada said, then just stood there.

"How about this one?" She handed her a Seventeen Seventeen magazine. Jada opened it and, squinting, brought it close to her face, then held it out at arm's length. magazine. Jada opened it and, squinting, brought it close to her face, then held it out at arm's length.

"Here." Delores grabbed a pair of reading gla.s.ses from the display next to them. "Put these on. Now look at the page."

"Whoa!" Jada drew her head back. "It's, like, a magnifying gla.s.s. I can even see eyebrows. All kindsa s.h.i.+t." She laughed and turned the pages.

"Try reading words now." Delores had her try three more pair with increasingly stronger lenses.

Jada read like a child, emphasizing each syllable. " 'Ever since she was a little girl, Marka Stanley has been wearing . . . ' " She pointed.

" 'Haute couture,' " Delores read. "It's French for high fas.h.i.+on."

"Jesus, you can even read French with these." Jada looked around to see what else might be possible.

Delores had the clerk snip off the price tags. Jada put them back on when they got outside. "Jesus, how come everything's so friggin' blurry?" She grabbed Delores's arm as she tripped on the sidewalk. Delores told her to take them off; they were just for reading. "Well, what about everything else?" she asked with a sweep of her arm. As they got into the car, Delores explained that distance required other lenses, which would have to come from an eye doctor. If Jada wanted, Delores could make an appointment for her. "If it's all right with your mother, that is."

Jada held the gla.s.ses in her lap and stared out the side window. Delores asked if there was anything else she needed before she brought her home. Annoyed with her silence, she asked again.

"I don't want to go home."

"Where do you want to go? It's got to be quick, though. I've got tons of stuff to do at home," she said, but Jada only grunted. "Well? You gonna tell me?" She slowed down. "We're almost there." Delores kept glancing over at her. Sweat ran down the girl's face, and she grunted again. "What? What're you saying?" She turned onto Clover Street.

"No. Don't. Don't bring me home. I can't. I can't go in there. No, don't stop!"

Delores drove past the house. "Why? What's wrong? Why can't you go home?"

Jada wouldn't answer. At first Delores thought she was trying not to cry, but now Jada seemed to be gagging. Was her mother mad at her? Was her mother okay? Was she there? Or had she taken off again?

"She's dead."

Delores listened as Jada described the terror of these last few days, not knowing what to do, afraid to tell anyone. She had considered running away but couldn't bear the thought of leaving her mother alone like that, because even if Polie or Feaster found her, they wouldn't do anything. They'd just leave her, too.

"Oh, Jada, honey." She reached out for her arm, but the girl cringed back. "You've had such an awful time. I'm so sorry for you. I am. I really am. And I'm going to help you. I promise. I swear I will. I'll talk to people. We'll find you a good home, a place where you-"

"I want to live with you."

"Oh, no. I can't. It wouldn't work."

"Why? I could, like, clean and help with the cooking and stuff. And I'd go to school, I would. Like, I've even got these, the gla.s.ses, now." She put them on, and they were as crooked as her smile. She hugged herself, s.h.i.+vering.

"Honey, look, I can't. But I'll make sure you're with really good people."

"Yeah, in some home again for a few months until they say, 'Pack up. It's not working out,' or I don't fit in, or the foster mother's gonna have a baby and they need my room, or the foster father goes and tells his wife I'm, like, tryna come on to him or something, when all the h.e.l.l I'm tryna do is make him like me. That's all, that's all I ever try to do," she said, teeth chattering. "And you, you like me. You already do, right?"

"Yes, I know, hon, but you see, I've got a little girl coming and-"

"Well, when she leaves, then."

"No, she's going to live with me. She's coming from China. She's going to be my child, my daughter."

"But you don't even know her. You already know me, and what if you don't like her, then what?"

"I'll like her."

"What if she doesn't like you? You can't, like, just send her back, like you could me."

"Jada."

"It'd be a lot easier with me. The whole thing. You just call the caseworker. Sometimes they come right out, a couple hours, even, if it was real bad, if you wanted me out fast."

"Look, Jada, this isn't even the time for that. We've got to take care of other things first, your mother."

"No! I gotta know about me first. You don't f.u.c.king get it, do you? I'm all alone now. You know what that f.u.c.king feels like?"

"Yes, I do."

"No, you don't. No. I know you don't." Jada's mouth twitched as if to suppress a smile. "I know who killed that old lady."

"Who?"

"Let me with live with you, please."

"Tell me who, Jada. Please." Barely able to breathe, she eked out the words. "If it would help Gordon . . . oh, my G.o.d, that poor man, if you know something, please. I'll do anything, please, I promise, just tell me."

"I got proof."

"What kind of proof?"

"These." She held out two small statues.

"Hummels?" Her hands were slick on the wheel. Gordon had told her about Mrs. Jukas's collection.

"They're from her house."

"Who gave them to you?" she asked, then suddenly understood, saw it as clearly as if she were there watching it happen. "It was him, wasn't it? That guy Polie, the one on the porch. That's what he wanted. That's why he was so upset. No wonder you wouldn't go out, you must've been so scared. And your mother, he gave her those drugs, didn't he, the ones that-Oh, my G.o.d, no wonder he grabbed my phone. But it's over, Jada. All of it, from now on. You don't have to live like that anymore, with people letting you down and taking advantage of you."

Delores kept talking as she drove slowly, erratically, braking, accelerating, coming in right angles, as always, spiraling into the center, gradually, directly, but as un.o.btrusively 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 f.u.c.ked-up world by now."

"It's not a f.u.c.ked-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, f.u.c.king 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 going?"

"Pretty good," Jada answered. "Long as you got a couple hours." She laughed.

"It's not that bad, is it?" Gordon checked his watch.

"Actually, he's doing great." Delores patted Gordon's shoulder, a gesture Dennis found oddly repulsive. Those two big bodies, he thought, all that flesh, one against the other.

"Every time, he just gets better and better," she was saying.

"She says I'm too cautious." Gordon smiled at her.

Dennis dug his boot into the snowy rim of the sidewalk.

"Yeah, he's always riding the brake," the girl interjected, hands up, swaying from side to side. "Like, whoa, watch out! Any minute now we're gonna cras.h.!.+"

"Jada." Delores touched her arm.

"Hey, I'm the backseat driver, right?" the girl said, but to Dennis, still trying to make him laugh.

"I don't think so," Delores said quietly.

Ignoring the girl, Dennis asked Delores how the dress shop was going. He knew she was either going to buy it or already had. Gordon was always so vague, it was hard to remember what he said, the little he did. Business was good, she said. She was bringing in a few new lines. Aiming for a younger, more hip clientele. Jesus, Jesus, he thought with a glance at her red-velvet-and-fur bomber jacket. Her black-checked pants ended inches above her ankles. Lisa had come in the other day, she was saying. She'd bought a silk sweater for her mother, a birthday present. he thought with a glance at her red-velvet-and-fur bomber jacket. Her black-checked pants ended inches above her ankles. Lisa had come in the other day, she was saying. She'd bought a silk sweater for her mother, a birthday present.

"Hey, Thurm!" the girl shouted, then darted across the street toward a tall slouch of a boy shuffling by. Except for his orange knit cap, he was dressed in baggy black, hands deep in low-riding pockets. They stood on the corner. The girl's arms flew as she talked.