Dead Woman Crossing by J.R. Adler (books on motivation .txt) 📗

Jessica, all the frustration drained from her. Jessica was seated in her highchair, while Nicole was trying to help her hold a spoon to scoop from the bowl of applesauce in front of her. It appeared to not be going all that well, since both of them had smears of applesauce on them. Kimberley walked to Jessica and kissed the top of her forehead.

“How was work?” Nicole asked, while keeping her eyes on her granddaughter.

“Awful.”

Kimberley disappeared into the kitchen, returning a moment later with a bottle of Bud Light. She took a seat at the dining-room table, across from Jessica and Nicole.

“I heard about Hannah Brown.” Nicole raised an eyebrow.

“News travels fast around here.” Kimberley took a swig of her beer.

“It’s just awful. I’m confident you and Sam will find the person responsible though, but I do worry about you.”

“There’s no need to worry, Mom.”

“You’re putting yourself in danger.”

Kimberley refused to argue with her mother about the dangers of police work. If she only knew what kind of danger she had put herself in as a detective working high-profile cases.

“Did you know Hannah?”

“Yes, but not well. I just knew her from around town and at the pharmacy. Always said hi to me. She seemed like a sweet girl.”

Kimberley took a swig of her beer. “Yeah, that’s been the general consensus so far. Sweet girl, but no one really knew her. I can’t stop thinking about her daughter Isobel, growing up without a mother.” She shook her head as she rotated the bottle of beer in her hand, keeping her eyes focused on the label.

“It’s just awful. That poor little girl.” Nicole frowned.

“One of the locals at the bar said there’s a rumor going around that Hannah slept with men for money. Have you heard that?” Kimberley asked, looking at her mom. She couldn’t help but always investigate a case, whether she was on duty or not.

“That’s ridiculous.” Nicole pursed her lips. “I swear these people around here have nothing better to do than gossip. Hannah was a nice girl. She kept to herself mostly, but she was friendly when I saw her at the pharmacy on occasion.”

Jessica dropped the spoon and dove her hand into the bowl of applesauce, giggling.

“You’re such a stinker,” Nicole said, pinching her cheek.

She repositioned the spoon in Jessica’s hand and mimed putting it in her own mouth. “Just like that, Jessica. You got this,” she cheered her on.

Jessica rammed the spoon into the bowl and lifted it, zooming it into her mouth.

“Yay. Such a smart girl,” Nicole said.

Kimberley watched them closely, struck by the bond that had sprung so quickly between grandmother and granddaughter. A small pang hit her out of nowhere as she remembered her own childhood, one free from the love and closeness taking place right before her eyes. Her mother showed her love, but not like this. She was too busy fighting with her alcoholic husband, so Kimberley had spent most of her childhood in her room with the door closed and music playing, trying to drown out the arguing and screaming.

All of a sudden, Kimberley is twelve years old again, sitting on her twin-sized bed holding a stuffed teddy bear tightly against her chest. On top of her dresser sat a small CD player with Now That’s What I Call Music! 5 playing. The song “Absolutely (Story of a Girl)” by Nine Days played loudly on repeat while Kimberley sat stiffly on her bed, quietly singing along to the lyrics in order to drown out what was happening on the other side of her closed bedroom door.

“I’ll fucking kill you, Nicole. You talk to me like that one more time, it’ll be the last thing you ever say,” her father screamed. His words were slurred, tainted with the cheap whiskey he started drinking on his way home from work and didn’t stop drinking until he passed out.

His footsteps were as loud as thunder, like there was a storm brewing in the small home. She heard them pound closer and closer to her room. Her bedroom door was unlocked. She made the mistake of locking it once and it’s why the door was now cracked and splintered.

“You don’t lock doors in my house,” is what her father had yelled as he kicked and banged on it until she unlocked it. She had missed a week of school after that incident as he wouldn’t let her go until the bruises had faded.

“Leave her alone,” her mom yelled. The footsteps pounded down the hallway. Kimberley’s heart raced as she squeezed her teddy bear.

“She’s my daughter. I’ll talk to the little bitch whenever I want,” her father screamed back.

Three… two… one… the door swung open, banging against the drywall. There was already a hole where the handle hit. This wasn’t the first time her dad had thrown open the door in a fit of rage. His hair was blond and stringy, tied back in a stubby ponytail. His face red and blotchy, thanks to his alcoholism. His eyes were a striking blue like the Hope Diamond, but there was no hope for him.

“Why is your music so damn loud?” he said, stomping over to the CD player.

Her mother stood in the doorway, tears streaming down her face. “Stop it, Bruce,” she said, trying to protect her daughter. She looked over at Kimberley with forlorn eyes.

“This is the story of a girl who cried a river and drowned the whole world,” played through the speakers just as her father got to it. He slammed his fist against the top of it, opening the disc drive up. The song abruptly stopped while the CD skidded round and round. He pressed his fingers against the disc, stopping it and picked it up.

“Now That’s What I Call Music?” he said with a laugh. “More like now that’s what I call garbage.” He snapped the CD in half and tossed it on her dresser. “Next time, she’ll learn to keep it down.” He narrowed his eyes at Kimberley and walked out of the