Hardwired Read online

  “I didn’t even know you could boil water.”

  Jesse held up her hand. “Say another word and we’ll devour this entire pie in front of you. You’ll get nothing.”

  “Consider me quiet, but give me pie.”

  “The day you’re quiet for more than one minute will mean the earth has stopped spinning, and we’ll all fall off.” Jesse handed her a plate with a big slice of pie and a scoop of ice cream to the side.

  Much to Clary’s delight, the pie was warm. Her constant sidekick, anxiety, backed off and gave way to a feeling she barely remembered. It might be contentment, but she was almost afraid to acknowledge it. None of them said a thing for a few minutes; they simply ate. The sweet, fresh apples mixed with a little splash of sour knocked Clary’s taste buds around.

  “Thank you, big tough cop. How did you know about my award?”

  “Front page of the paper, and I saved it for you. Local woman is ‘Teacher of the Year’ in Iowa—” Jesse stood, moving a few steps away. “Listen.”

  The thin wail of a siren sliced through the night, growing close. Red strobe lights lit up the trees that lined the street, and an ambulance stopped north of Aunt Maureen’s house. Jesse took off ahead of them.

  Neighbors were already out of their homes, standing on lawns and the sidewalk, and Clary followed Piper through the crowd. Jesse spoke to the EMTs and then went to her knees over a body on the road. Headlights from two squad cars illuminated the scene.

  Jesse looked up at Piper. “It’s Leefe.”

  Chapter Two

  “What did she say? Leaf, like the trees?” Clary stepped closer to Piper. “I can’t see.”

  “Leefe Ellis,” Piper said.

  “That’s an odd name,” Clary said, moving to get a better look. The dark-haired girl laid half-off the curb with her arm above her head. Her hand was open as if she were reaching for something. Clary blinked. Was she naked? No, her breasts had mostly eased out of the torn tank top. No bra certainly, and it wasn’t a girl. It was a woman.

  Jesse adjusted the clothing, covering the breasts almost tenderly, and Clary heard Piper pull in a breath. Jesse bent closer, saying something to the woman, and then stood as they adjusted the backboard. Clary thought she saw blood on the bare shoulder.

  “Do you know her?” Clary said, but Piper had walked away, shoulders and back straight. Clary saw Jesse scan the crowd, then lean forward, finding Piper. Jesse turned to a policeman, said a few words, and walked to Clary.

  “If I ride in with Leefe, will you pick me up at the hospital and bring me home?”

  “Should I call Piper and let her know where we are?”

  “No,” Jesse said and got into the ambulance. “St. Cat’s, Clary. I’ll be in the ER.”

  The crowd began to disperse, and Clary walked back to Piper and Jesse’s for her keys. The house was dark except for a single light upstairs in her parents’ old bedroom. She hadn’t even gotten inside to see what they’d done to the house. She looked around the yard one last time and then walked toward Aunt Maureen’s. Someone called her name, and she looked through the crowd. Mr. Turner raised his hand. With a big grin, she hugged him, adding a kiss on his bristly cheek.

  “Where’s Velma?” She looked for his wife in the people still talking on their lawns.

  “In the nursing home. You didn’t know?”

  “I just got home a few hours ago. Aunt Mo must have forgotten.”

  “Last month,” he said, clearing his throat. His hair stood up on one side, and his eyes were sleepy. “The sirens woke me.”

  When Clary was seven, she’d fallen off her bike, about where they stood right now. He’d driven her to the hospital and stayed with her until her mother and father could get there. The arm had been broken, but their bond had stayed strong. She became the faithful tagalong child when Mr. Turner fished in the early mornings.

  “What happened out there?”

  “I’m not sure,” Clary said. “There was a woman on the street, and Jesse rode to the hospital with her.”

  “When it’s hot, we have a lot of these police and ambulance calls, but it’s usually young people. Velma always hated the sirens.” He started to leave but turned back. “How’ve you been? Get any fishing in?” He smiled for the first time and ran his hands through his mussed hair.

  “There’s a little lake a few miles away, and I go when possible. Nice smallies but mostly just pan fish. Want to do some rock fishing?”

  “It’d have to be early in the morning or later in the afternoon. I see Velma for lunch, not that she always knows I’m there.” They were both quiet for a moment. “That’s a good idea. Let me know.” He stood straighter. “As a matter of fact, that’s a darned good idea. I’ll get the poles and tackle box ready.”

  It sounded good to Clary too. “I’ll be around, Mr. Turner.”

  “It’s Andy, Clary. I think we’re both old enough for you to call me by my name, don’t you?”

  “Give me a couple days to settle in, and I’ll be by. I have to go,” she said. “Jesse went with the ambulance to St. Cat’s, and I’m picking her up.”

  “Seems odd having Jesse in your house, but I’m thankful she’s in the neighborhood.” He turned back to his house but stopped. “Clary? You bring the bait.”

  “Deal,” Clary said and waved good-bye.

  *

  The smallest hospital in the city, St. Catherine’s had somehow survived the years when the bigger hospitals gobbled up the small ones. The emergency room was busy, and Clary stood for a moment, trying to remember how to get around. She decided on the first right and almost collided with Jesse.

  “I was going to call you at the desk,” Jesse said. “Left my phone at home.”

  Clary followed Jesse out a side door into the parking lot and pushed her phone into Jesse’s hand. “Call Piper.”

  The air was chilly, and Clary found a light hoodie in her backseat. Jesse talked, pacing in circles. Finally, Jesse slid into the car, snapped her seat belt, and muttered, “Christ,” leaning back into the seat with a sigh.

  Navigating onto South Port’s only one-way street, Clary glanced over. “Did that woman make it? I mean, she’s alive, right?”

  “Leefe’s a survivor.”

  “That’s a different name. Piper said she knew her. How do you spell it?” Clary said.

  Jesse spelled the name and then ran her hands over the leather seat. “I like the new car.”

  “The old Chevy had over a hundred thousand miles. It was time.” Clary glanced across at Jesse. “You can tell me it’s none of my business, but was Piper upset with you tonight, at the ambulance?” She grinned.

  “She and I argue over Leefe every now and then.”

  “Why? What did you do?”

  “Nothing, and why is it always me?”

  “We knew each other before we were in school.” Clary laughed. “Where should I start?”

  Jesse grinned too but shook her head. “Leefe has quite a story. Years ago, the police picked up her adoptive father for home invasion, had him in lockup, pretty much dead to rights, and his wife posted bail. Then wham, everyone disappeared except Leefe. The damned people left her. She was only seven and, from that point on, she was homeless. I think she’s a year or two younger than you.”

  “She must have gone to different schools than we did. I’d remember a name like that.”

  “The county raised her. Remember that group home in the country by the grove of trees where we used to party? Oliverville? You know Oliver Twist, the orphan. They tore it down years ago. Anyway, she graduated from that little high school on the west side of town. That’s gone too.”

  “I remember the group home but not the word Oliverville,” Clary said. “That’s mean. Did we really say that?”

  “No, not everyone. You might not have.”

  Clary waited. Jesse hadn’t answered her question. She stopped on the road in front of the three long cement and wood jetties that stretched out into the lake. “Walk with me. I sometim
es dream of this,” Clary said.

  “All right, but not too long. I have to work in the morning.”

  “I thought you were off tomorrow.”

  “Like that’ll ever happen. I worked nine days straight just to get today off. Things have changed. South Port is now the proud owner of the highest unemployment rate in the state.”

  “That can’t be,” Clary said. “I’ve talked to Aunt Mo about the mess in Madison over unions and education, but I don’t think she’s talked about South Port.” Clary took a few more steps, trying to remember. “Maybe she has and I’ve just forgotton.”

  “I’ll tell you how bad unemployment is. When I got my promotion, I was assigned to the homeless population.”

  “There’s that many—”

  “Over half of Piper’s classes are severe low income or homeless. Iowa has them too. You’re a teacher. Haven’t you looked at the figures?”

  “Not much going on in here recently.” Clary tapped her forehead. The last year and some had been a fog in most ways. “Of course I see national and state statistics. How are you defining homeless?”

  “I mean, living in their cars, or on the streets, that kind of thing.”

  “We have homeless people in our bigger towns, but not where I live and teach. Every state has low income problems.” Clary continued walking toward the end of the jetty.

  Her first memories were here, with her grandmother, the woman she was named for. The last time she’d been on this jetty, her parents were moving and she’d held four-year-old Hannah’s hand. They’d watched ducks together.

  The waves splashed the stones, one of the sweetest sights and sounds of her life, and she did dream about it. Even the air smelled familiar. The lake took up the entire horizon. To the south, the crystal lights of the big restaurant beside the pier lit up the water for miles. To the north, there was beach all the way to the lighthouse, its steady light sweeping the lake. On foggy nights it was eerie.

  Fatigue drained through her as they reached the end. Jesse pointed at the little blue and white gingerbread-style house on the beach. “Leefe lives in that house you always loved. Don’t come down here this late at night, the way we used to, and always lock the doors at Maureen’s.”

  Clary only nodded. “You still haven’t answered my question. Why do you and Piper argue about Leefe?”

  “I’m sure Leefe knows something about why Sharon took off and ended up out West.”

  “Why would you argue over that? Why she left is the only thing we don’t know. We know everything else. We know where she went, where she was staying, and how she got shot and killed, working in a bar in San Francisco.” The words resonated in Clary’s mind. It still hurt to say them out loud.

  Jesse stopped and kicked some pebbles into the water. “Did it ever occur to you how important it might be to me? Why she left me, left all of us, and South Port?”

  “It was sixteen years ago, Jesse.”

  “In a way, it’s like you and Robin. You said you’d tried to talk to her. Why? Because you want to know.”

  “True, but even if I find out, it won’t change anything. She’ll still be in Oklahoma, and so will Hannah.”

  “You’re right, but I still think about Sharon, just like you still think about Hannah and Robin.” Jesse turned back toward the beach. “Hannah’s a little doll, and Robin was beautiful, even hot.”

  “Was she? I don’t remember.” Clary’s stomach clenched, and she turned away.

  Jesse looped her arm over Clary’s shoulders and hugged her a little. “I’m sorry, but I’m right. It hurts, doesn’t it? Remember when Sharon was my girl, and you were my wingman? Those were good days.” They walked toward Clary’s car. “I never thought I’d settle down after Sharon. Yet, here I am, with Piper, and I really love her.”

  “Just because I suck at relationships doesn’t mean I don’t want you to be happy.”

  “You don’t suck, Clary. You just haven’t met the right person.”

  “That’s been talked to death between me and my therapist.” They walked a few steps in silence, and Clary remembered Andy. “When I went back for my keys tonight, I talked with Mr. Turner…Andy. What do you know about Velma?”

  “That just happened, and I help him every chance I get. Did he tell you that someone broke into their house?”

  Clary stopped Jesse with her hand. “Were they hurt?”

  “He was. Three men were looking for drug money, and roughed him up. They took his computer, the TV, a bunch of odds and ends, but what really broke him was Velma’s purse. They laughed at him when he fought for the purse, broke his ribs, and left him with some serious bruises.” Jesse’s strides were getting longer. “We caught them, much to my satisfaction.”

  “Slow down. Was he in the hospital afterward, and who took care of Velma?”

  “Your aunt Mo took care of her. Your mother even offered to come home. Don’t ever wonder why I love your family so much.”

  “I adore my family, but there’s nothing wrong with yours.” They stopped at her car.

  “My folks are fine, but you guys have that extra inch of…something. I never have known what it is.”

  Clary stared at the beach, remembering neighborhood picnics. “I don’t know either, but let’s enjoy it while we’ve got it. Sharon taught us how fast things can change.”

  Again, she looked back at the water. She’d forgotten how the moon did that, the flash of chrome on the lake.

  Chapter Three

  The knife flashed in the moonlight, and Leefe ran through the sand and lake grass. She choked back a sob, looked at her bloody hands, and then looked again. Her hands weren’t bloody, and she wasn’t on the beach. She was in a bed, gripping white sheets, not lake grass. The only thing she knew was that every inch of her body hurt. She was sure he would have killed her. He’d already smashed her face and kicked her. Had he cut her with that knife?

  With a deep, sore breath, she recognized the hospital smell and then heard voices. Two women talked softly by the window. The blinds were closed, but soft summer light filtered into the room. The woman in blue scrubs was a nurse Leefe had known when she worked here. The other woman, her back to Leefe, held up a cloth bag.

  “I’m Clary Stone, a friend of Jesse Lowden’s. She’s in court today and asked me to bring these clothes and shoes.”

  “I was only checking to see who was in here.” The nurse started to turn away but stopped. “I remember. Your parents were teachers.”

  “My mother taught English in the public schools. My father taught history at Bradly, the private school.”

  They said a few more words to each other about teaching, but Leefe could barely hear, and her unreliable sight caused the figures to shift in front of her. Thin, hazy light slanted across the younger woman, causing her trim shoulders and hips to soften at the edges, but she shone. Leefe blinked rapidly to clear her vision. The olive green shorts were a great view, and the legs that followed had a bit of muscle. She closed her eyes, heard footsteps, and the swish of the door. Leefe opened her eyes and then gave a frightened jerk. The clearest green eyes she’d ever seen were directly above her.

  “W…Who?” she choked out, heart ratcheting around her ribs.

  “I’m Clary Stone, a friend of Jesse’s.”

  “I thought you’d left.”

  “And I was pretty sure you were awake.” Clary’s eyes darkened when she smiled.

  “You scared me.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.” Clary’s face softened.

  Leefe held her gaze. She saw her eyes widen and heard her take a breath.

  “Water,” Leefe slurred.

  Clary messed with the bed’s controls. “Let’s raise the bed so you don’t pour water all over your face. The nurse said you could have a sip.”

  The bed raised Leefe’s upper body slowly, but she felt a whiff of head rush as blood changed course in her arms and legs. She took the plastic cup and negotiated the straw.

  “Could I have more?”


  “I’ll ask the nurse.” Clary reached for the call button.

  “No.” Leefe licked her dry lips. “How about ice chips?”

  “I think they’d allow that.” Clary spooned ice out of the carafe.

  At least her voice wasn’t echoing now. Leefe let the ice lay on her tongue and kept her eyes on Clary. She was vaguely familiar. The brilliant white of the collarless shirt emphasized tan skin. Two top buttons were undone, revealing a smooth neck and skin. A small gold pendant nestled in the hollow at her throat.

  “Are you a cop, with Jesse?”

  Clary laughed, shaking her head. “They couldn’t pay me enough to do that job. Jesse’s in court and asked me to bring you some clothes.”

  “I was wearing clothes.”

  “They didn’t make it. Looks like all you kept was the concussion and bruises on your arms and face.”

  Clary’s hand was light and gentle on her face, then gone. Leefe raised both arms and inspected the damage. She felt her face carefully, the tender skin and bone. Her side hurt, and she probed it with her fingers, feeling stitches. “How did I get here?”

  “Jesse rode in with you in the ambulance.”

  “That’s hard to believe.” Leefe knew she was staring but couldn’t stop. “If you’re not a cop…?”

  “I’m an eighth grade schoolteacher. I work in Iowa and am home for the summer. Jesse and I grew up together.”

  Leefe searched the name but came up blank, still puzzled over the faint recognition. “How long have I been here?”

  “This is your third day.”

  There was that smile again, and Leefe couldn’t stop her own smile. The door opened, and a nurse came into the room. “Time for blood. I’m the resident vampire.” The nurse set the tray on the table and glanced at Clary. “You have to go.”

  Clary wiggled her fingers at Leefe in a wave. “Nice to meet you. Let’s see each other again under better circumstances.”

  Leefe watched the door close, catching the soap scent that Clary left behind. Everything about her gleamed, or was it her wacky mind? The nurse turned with the needle, and she closed her eyes.