Sean glanced his way. “You alright man?”
“Yeah, I’ll live,” Clay growled, his tensed face failing to conceal his resentment of Sally’s ongoing insults. “Best get to it.”
𓂓
Across the street from Sally sat a low ranch-style home painted crisp white with a tan roof, perched back on a rise of the heavily wooded winding road. Dense shrubs and wildflower beds framed a lush front lawn. The daily morning hum of a treadmill could be heard seeping out of a partly opened window. As the running belt moved with increasing intensity, Jacquelyn easily kept stride, conjuring up as motivation days from a recent past spent dominating the soccer pitch.
A predawn hour of this each day before waking her little girl not only kept her fit, but the deep exercise also proved to be a tolerable salve for the grief from which she had been struggling to heal. If not for her daughter, Elena, she might have slipped deeper into the throes of her despair. Fighting off a familiar tinge of sadness at the thought of him, she tucked her chin and doubled her efforts.
As the HIIT program eventually slowed the pace, a sharp noise broke her concentration. Without stopping the treadmill, she hopped off and grabbed her firearm. Ever since the incident downtown, she kept it within arm’s reach between dusk and dawn. As a further precaution, she had positioned the treadmill in the room across the hall from her daughter’s bedroom door.
With that notion in mind, Jacquelyn moved down the short hall and paused at a corner, leveling the Sig P365 with her gaze just like Evan had taught her. Scanning for anything unfamiliar, she moved into the living room. A large picture window reflected her poised athletic form. She checked the front door before turning to search the back of the house. She found nothing unusual. Back in the living room, she lowered the weapon and stopped to settle her breath, wondering what she had missed.
A shimmer in the glass caught her eye. Looking out the picture window, she could see movement across the street. Sally in her front yard, arms waving animatedly, talking to her landscaper. The garage door. She remembered the loud cracking sound it would sometimes make when opened, easily heard through the window of the exercise room. Scoffing at her overreaction, she locked the weapon in a gun safe next to the couch and returned to her workout.
𓂓
Showered, relaxed, and clad in her white terrycloth robe, hair up in a matching towel, Jacquelyn opened the bedroom door and padded into her daughter’s room. She set a small glass of water on the nightstand, then paused a moment to read the placard above the bed as she did every morning. Little baby, you are my world.
“Elena, honey, it’s time to get up.”
A small form shifted under the covers and blinked open sleepy blue eyes through strands of blonde hair. She started each day with the same question. “Momma, can we get the soccer ball and go play today?”
Jacquelyn sat on the bed and smiled ruefully, adjusting the towel on her head. “Well, honey, it’s a school day so we can’t go to the park.” She had been taking her daughter on the weekends, prepping Elena for her first season in peewee league.
“But, Momma, can’t we play in the front yard just a little bit before school?” Elena emphasized ‘before’ as if Jacquelyn’s decision hung on that very word.
“Pleeeease,” Elena added for good measure.
With a look of mock exasperation, Jacquelyn rolled her eyes then replied with a broad smile. She understood her daughter’s obsession with the sport. “Okay, honey. But only for a few minutes. We don’t want to get your school clothes dirty, do we?”
Elena shook her head.
After a coy pause, Jacquelyn’s eyes widened, and a mischievous smile grew on her face. She leaned forward, arms wide, slowly dragging her hands across the covers.
Sensing the start of their morning ritual, Elena wailed. “No, Momma!”
Jacquelyn suddenly brought her arms from the folds of the covers, grabbed Elena up, and swung her in slow circles. Spasmodic giggles filled the room as she set her down smoothly on small feet and motioned toward the water. As she did each morning, Elena drained the glass.
𓂓
Standing in front of the mirror adjusting her outfit, Jacquelyn took pleasure in the familiar feel of her favorite khaki capri pants, white button-down, and brown leather huarache shoes. She pulled her choppy layered hair back into a long ponytail and secured it with a black elastic band, pushing behind her ears annoyingly long bangs her stylist had promised were fashionable.
“Five years outta grad school and already a partner.” She nodded approvingly, winking to the mirror. “Damn straight, girl.”
Elena scampered by the bathroom in her favorite pink flower sundress and white sneakers. Ready for the day, she grabbed her soccer ball and headed toward the door. “Momma, let’s go play!”
“Wait for me, honey!” Jacquelyn shouted as she put the last few touches on her makeup.
“But I wanna show you my big kick.”
“Not in the front yard,” Jacquelyn replied with a hint of annoyance. “Just wait one more minute while I finish up.”
𓂓
Standing at the door looking through the glass into the front yard, Elena once again heard the whispers beckoning her.
“Come out and play.”
She started shifting back and forth on her feet—a habit adopted to quell nervous energy. Distracted by the familiar clinks and taps of momma’s morning routine in the bathroom, she looked back over her shoulder. But her attention snapped back to the front yard as overlapping pleas echoed louder in her head, agitating her. Practically bouncing on her feet, the familiar whispers once again became more distinct, beckoning her.
“Please! Come play with us!”
She could hear childish giggles out in the front yard. Elena caught a glimpse of a figure running across the lawn. But it quickly vanished into the bushes.
“Scaredy cat. Scaredy cat.”
Waiting impatiently for momma, an impish grin stole across Elena’s face. She quietly clasped the handle and opened the front door. Peering outside, she whispered to herself, “I’ll show Momma how good I can kick.” Then she slipped out unnoticed, enveloped in welcoming laughter.
𓂓
John pulled up to a stop sign just down the street from Clay and Sean that same morning. He glanced over his shoulder to check the duffel bag was still safely nestled in the trash-strewn floorboard of his dual rear-wheel diesel truck. Satisfied, he turned his attention back to his phone just as a car pulled in behind him, beeping the horn impatiently. John rolled down the window and flipped the bird as the car sped past and turned. With a, “humph,” he resumed scanning missed calls and texts until another horn tore his attention away from the phone.
Before he could react, John’s eyes went unfocused, his tongue lolled out a bit, and he appeared to drift for a moment. Time to go now. He heard the command in his head and jerked back to life. He shrugged, and to the relief of the driver behind him, John cranked up the tunes, made his turn onto Haynesville Woods Avenue and started up the gently curving road. Distorted douche metal music enhanced his morning pot buzz. Bobbing his head as he mouthed the words, John turned the volume up, raised his phone again, and kept scrolling through the notifications.
He found a text from Dewey sent last night, “Just checking, is everything kosher?”
John snorted. “Fuckin' whiny-ass Dewey, always wantin' updates.”
