The Silent Boy (Emma McPherson Book 1) by A.J. Flynn (early reader books .txt) 📗

just called out to whoever it was to go away. I didn’t even know who it was. I just called out.” The story sounded foolish even to her own ears.

“You didn’t even know it was him?” Ella snorted. “I’ve been here plenty of times when Ben came over to mow the lawn. He always knocks, then yells his name so you won’t have to bother coming to the door. I suppose he changed that year-long habit today, though, huh?”

“Well, if he called then I didn’t hear him,” Marla bit back defensively.

“What about the part where you threatened him with the police? I guess you want me to think that when he came home looking hurt he was lying.”

Marla had no answer, but Karl asked, in a low voice. “Was that when you called for me to come home? Was Ben the strange man who tried to break into the house?”

“Karl, please,” Marla said with a sob, “I can’t be sure—“

“Sure!” Ella scoffed. “I’ll tell you what’s sure. You wanted something to tell Karl that would make him allow you to go home to your mother’s, and I bet you had a hectic time trying to think of something. Karl, you say you came home to help pack. Well, I don’t think you were really needed. I saw Marla dragging in the suitcases about noon.”

Karl’s expression was hurt as he started to speak, but Ella wasn’t to be stopped. Her face was pinched with rage, as she continued to spit words at Marla.

“You make me sick. You live in a perpetual state of needing your mother, even though you’re almost thirty and twice a mother yourself. You want her so much that it means nothing to you to hurt my boy then turn around and lie to your own husband. If ever there was a case of arrested development, it would be you, and I think Karl and the children would be better off if you ran away to your precious mother and stayed there.”

Making that her final blow, Ella turned on her heel and left the house.

She’d had her say, just as she’d intended, but now she felt a little sick to her stomach. Deep inside she knew she hadn’t needed to say so much. The look on Karl’s face stuck with her. It betrayed his deference of her words over Marla’s, and caused her to wonder if the quote, “Vengeance is mine, saith the Lord,” was more of an act of love than a rule. Yes, she had taken vengeance into her own hands, and now she felt like hell.

XIV

There wasn’t much going on at the police station. The officers either hadn’t come back yet or had returned and left again before McPherson arrived.

The murder was the most important thing on the agenda, but that didn’t mean other crimes had ceased.

She glanced over the various complaints that had been sent, as she waited for the desk officer to check if she had had any calls.

There had been three holdups, one of which involved the violent pistol whipping of a grocery clerk, three wife beatings, and five noise complaints, vicious dogs and other equally routine things.

“Just one call, Lieutenant,” the man said, passing her a slip of paper.

“Thanks,” she said absently. The call was from Liam asking him to call her once she got back.

She picked up an outside line and dialed his number. The warm familiar glow of anticipation she always felt whenever she was about to talk to Liam washed over her. It felt good, but it always made her feel somewhat uncomfortable, because she thought herself too old for such foolishness.

“Mr. Brighton,” she said, when he finally answered, “this is Lieutenant McPherson. You left a call for me?”

“Yes, Lieutenant,” he answered seriously, “I would like to know if you’ll be coming home for dinner, and if so, to ask you to bring home some cigarettes and whipped cream.”

“I’m on my way. Put on a pot of coffee.”

“See you soon,” he answered.

Liam’s apartment was located near the heart of town, so she walked over. The building was ugly and drab from the outside. Grime and smoke from the years covered the blood red brick, and the architecture was unimaginative.

The largest portion of the first floor was occupied by a dry cleaner and bakery, with the door leading to the upstairs apartments squeezed in between them.

There was a dim foyer that held two antique chairs and provided access to a creaky self-service elevator. McPherson stepped into it quickly. The automatic door had a frightening way of snapping at you once you were halfway through. She tapped the button for three and waited while the cables squealed and snarled the cage upward.

The third floor hallway was even more gloomy than the foyer. The walls were a washed-out brown and deeply cracked, and the soiled carpet had been worn threadbare down the center. There was a musty smell that let the occupant know that the place hadn’t endured fresh air for a long time.

Emma knocked on Liam’s door, just as she had done countless times before in the five years they’d known each other. As always, it felt like coming home.

Emma lived, or rather slept, in a single room of a rooming house. Whenever her work permitted, she ate with Liam at the apartment or took him out to eat. Other times she had her meals at whatever restaurant was closest. Her dream was that one day she and Liam might live together in a home of their own. Unlike some, though, their dream was close to coming true.

Together, they nearly had enough in the bank for a down payment on a house and to add whatever was needed to their already large collection of furniture. Both of them felt that marrying so late in life was bound to create problems, and so they took close care of their finances so that money wasn’t one of them.

Liam opened the door and smiled. “Well if it isn’t