When She Was Bad Page 7

  It took us a few hours, but by the time we were done, the tiny house was sparkling and we’d opened all the windows to let the breeze in and clear out the old odors. There were five huge bags of trash waiting for garbage day. The dishwasher hummed along as we sat at the table, a pickle jar full of wildflowers between us, and enjoyed two pieces of cake each. When I left, Maddy followed me out to the car.

  “Thanks again for showing me how to do the dishes. I hated all those dirty dishes but I didn’t know what to do.”

  “I don’t like dirty dishes in the sink either. Make sure you keep some of those groceries on the shelf in your closet like we talked about. That way if your mom has…friends over, they won’t eat everything before she has time to go shopping again.” But we both knew what I really meant.

  “Thank you, Hope. I wish you were my mom.”

  I got into the car and drove off without answering the kid.

  On Monday I stopped by Maddy’s school before I went to work. What was it about schools? They all smelled the same, no matter how many years it had been. In the office, a middle-aged woman with glasses smiled at me.

  “Can I help you, miss?”

  “Hope. Hope Rache. Could I see the principal?”

  The woman consulted her computer screen and I grinned seeing The Walking Dead figurines lined up in a row.

  “Mrs. Rogers has a half-hour before her next meeting, if you’ll follow me.” She led me into the woman’s office, and for a moment I was the new kid in school all over again, though this office smelled like fresh laundry, and it took me a moment to locate the source. A candle on the windowsill.

  “How can I help you, Miss Rache?”

  “Hope, please. I wanted to ask if you all have any kind of program like a backpack program or a food pantry?”

  From the files and papers piled on every surface and that tired look that screamed, “Please give me four more hours in the day,” I could tell the woman was overworked.

  “We tried to get something going a couple of times but we just couldn’t pull together the funding to make anything happen. It’s sad—there are so many kids who could benefit from both of the programs.”

  “How many kids are we talking about?”

  “About a hundred of our kids receive free or reduced-price meals through the state and federal food programs. And that’s just here at Louis Elementary. All the schools around have similar needs.”

  I blinked at her. “Those provide…”

  “Sorry, it’s the National School Lunch and Breakfast Program. It provides our kids two meals of the day when school is in session. But holidays, weekends, and during the summer, well…”

  She held out her hands.

  I was stunned. While I knew Avid was a lower-income rural county, I figured most kids had enough to eat. This was America, after all. But I guessed you never knew. Why the hell was the government spending so much money on other countries without taking care of the problems in its own backyard first? Children shouldn’t go hungry. Not in any country in this day and age.

  “How much would we be talking about to fund a food pantry and a backpack program for your school for a year?”

  The principal blinked at me, and I could almost see her doing the calculations in her head.

  “As a general assumption we estimate there are three to four family members for each student. And the cost… Hold on, let me look to be sure.”

  She shuffled a mound of papers on the worn desk. I could see the dust she’d stirred up in the beam of sunlight that cut across the floor in front of me.

  “Got it.” She came up with a slim folder, put on a pair of purple reading glasses, and nibbled her lip. “We don’t have any backpacks, so there’d be the cost of the backpacks for one hundred children. In addition it would cost $250 a school year to supply each child with food. Ideally we’d provide four or five meals for Saturday and Sunday.”

  I crossed my legs, admiring my robin’s-egg-blue pedicure. Working an odd schedule had allowed me to get a nice tan, and today I’d worn a cute dress I found at the tiny clothing store in town. It was a tank style and sleeveless in a blue and white gingham, with a watermelon slice embroidered near the hem.

  “What kind of foods do you put in the backpack?”

  “Oh, it changes. There are six or seven menus we could rotate through. Things like: peanut butter and jelly, boxes of cereal, mac and cheese, fruit juice, canned fruits and vegetables, and we would provide them with a voucher to the Grab-and-Go for bread, a gallon of milk, eggs, and a bag of fresh fruit.”

  While she talked, I ran numbers in my head and thought about local produce.

  “Correct me if I’m wrong, but sounds like we’re talking about twenty-five grand for the food, maybe another two grand for the backpacks, and I’m estimating it would take, what, fifty grand to cover the summertime along with a food pantry for an entire year? And that wouldn’t take into account setting something up with a couple of local farmers to supply a box of fresh produce every week, whatever is in season?”

  Mrs. Rogers flipped through a few more papers before she shoved the whole pile off to the side, a look of defeat on her face.

  “That’s pretty damn close, excuse my language. I’m afraid the funding isn’t there, and isn’t likely to be anytime in the near future. Our budget is so tight that teachers have to purchase many of their own supplies. In this day and age, we’d love to provide every child with a laptop or a tablet, but, well, I guess times are tight for everybody. We make do with what we have.”

  “How many kids do you have here at the school?”

  “There are 613 currently enrolled.”

  The thirteen made me smile, and I took it as a sign I was doing the right thing. The floral tote made a thud when I hefted it on her desk. The stacks of cash I lined up made her eyes look like one of those anime characters.

  “I came into some money through an inheritance. But I want to make sure we’re crystal clear…this meeting is between you and I. If you can’t ensure my anonymity then I’ll leave now.”

  The principal clasped her hands together, and I was worried she was going to shout, but she got herself together.

  “This is a hundred thousand dollars. I’ll take care of purchasing tablets through Amazon for all the kids. Get me a list of anything else you need for the classrooms. Art supplies, musical instruments, whatever, and I’ll cover it. If this isn’t enough money to fund the backpack and food pantry programs, call me.”

  I scribbled down the number for my burner phone and handed it over. The tears streamed down her face. Mrs. Rogers pushed her reading glasses up and blew her nose.

  “I don’t know what to say. You don’t know what this means.” She wiped her eyes again. “I don’t have the words to convey my gratitude. Truly you are an angel sent from heaven.”

  Not even close.

  I stood to go. “Do I have your word?”

  “Yes, you have my word. I’ll say the donation came from an anonymous big computer guy.” She gathered up the cash and put it in her file cabinet. As I watched, she locked it and put the key in her pocket.

  “At our next school meeting, I’ll put the plan in motion. It’s like Christmas came early.”

  She held out her hand, and when I went to shake, she pulled me into a hug, squeezing me tight. The darkness inside me was silent and sulking.

  “I’m so glad I could help. No one should go hungry, especially a child.” My hand was on the doorknob when she stopped me.

  “Wait. I know you’re anonymous, but at least pick the name for our programs.”

  I turned around, the name clear in my mind—another sign. “Let’s call it Max’s Buddies. With a picture of a generic black mutt on everything.”

  She smiled at me through her sniffles. “I like it. I’ll ask the art teacher to create the logo.” Before I could escape, she hugged me again. “I can never thank you enough.”

  My throat was tight as I stepped back. “You’ve got my number if you need anything
.”

  At least now Maddy would have a backpack of food to bring home on the weekends. I’d remind her to keep it hidden in her room with the other groceries. Before I forgot, I added a weekly reminder on my phone to drop off a bag of groceries to the kid every week. The mother could rot for all I cared, but the kid wouldn’t go hungry—not on my watch.

  CHAPTER 15

  IT WAS STRANGE NOT TO see fireworks for sale. They were everywhere in the South. Here in Avid, they’d had a parade before lunch, and there would be fireworks at the high school on the football field tonight. I knew it would be busy, so I ran my errands and clocked in fifteen minutes early. I’d come to like working the night shift, found I slept better during the day. Something about the sun helped keep the darkness at bay. Before I stowed my purse in the locker, I put eye drops in. My eyes burned after a scant three hours of sleep.

  What had started as a quick read led me to article after article on factory farming, USDA regulations, salmonella, E. coli, gassing meat, and, of course, the Grab-and-Go, which I’d found out was owned by the second largest food conglomerate in the world, Gier Foods, Inc. The same company who owned the Blesser Cattle Feeding Company and meatpacking plant here in Avid.

  The outbreak of food poisoning had spread, thirteen states hit hard, and the significance of the number wasn’t lost on me. I wished I knew what was coming. It felt like a menacing shadow following me everywhere.

  The store was still limping along with a few employees back and others out sick. From what I’d seen, it would be a good week until they were back, unless they ended up in the hospital from dehydration, like several people in town.

  I’d stopped in the corridor to retie my smock when I heard Evan talking to someone on speakerphone. It wasn’t the night manager, Caleb—he was out front. Not to mention he was a bit clueless.

  “That idiot Caleb threw everything out. I want you to go through the dumpster, take the good product out, and handle it.”

  It was the day manager, Julie.

  “I thought you told him to put it in the storage room so we could donate it?”

  The whack of the meat cleaver sounded loud through the doors, and I moved closer, pressing my ear to the crack. Evan had the phone on the counter next to him while he worked and talked at the same time.

  “I did. Caleb said he forgot. You know he couldn’t find his way out of a paper bag by himself. Look, I told him we had a new mandate from corporate, that we would be donating all expired food to the food pantry. Make sure the day guy knows—meat is expensive, and we do well on it.”

  Evan made a noise in the back of his throat. “He knows. All expired meat, poultry, and seafood goes into the smaller secondary freezer. I told them it either goes to the food pantry or to a local animal sanctuary. I think they bought it.”

  The sound of heels on the linoleum made me jump back.

  “Hey, are you working tonight?” It was one of the daytime cashiers.

  “Yep. I’m staying on the night shift. You don’t look like you’re dressed to work.” I looked her up and down. “You look dressed for a night out.”

  She smoothed her hands over her skirt. “Thanks. I’ve got a date for the fireworks.” With a glance at her watch, she frowned. “I better run. Think I left my lipstick in my locker.”

  She left, and the door to the meat counter swung open.

  “Hey, Hope.”

  “You’re not going to the fireworks tonight?” Evan looked guilty, and the monster within me gouged the door in my head, begging me to unleash it and end this guy where he stood.

  “Gotta make money. You know how it is.”

  “Sure do.” Quiet. We need more information before we do anything.

  Reeling from what I’d heard, I flicked the light on for my lane. Business was brisk, with people buying last-minute items for picnics and parties. In an hour it would be dead; everyone who wasn’t working or sick would be at the fireworks. Two names to add to my list. When I got home I’d see what I could find out about Evan and Julie. I only hoped Chris wasn’t in on whatever was going on…because if they were making people sick, I’d have to act. The only question was: would I kill them or call the authorities?

  The voice whispered, Kill them. Screw the authorities. You have no hard proof. It will be like before—they’ll get away with what they’ve done. Let me out. I will end them tonight.

  Mr. Edwards, from one of the older couples I saw at least once a week, placed his purchases on the conveyor belt.

  “Where’s Mrs. Edwards? Thought she usually did the shopping while you got to sit in the car?”

  He reached in the pocket of the knobby brown cardigan and brought out a handkerchief, blowing his nose. “The missus came down with that sickness, we think from the meat. She’s in bad shape.”

  “I’m sorry to hear it. Hope she feels better soon.”

  “Our neighbors and their kids are in the hospital. The doc said they admitted three others over the past two days. Did you hear? Three more states with sick people.”

  “It’s awful. Maybe you better get another bag of oranges, boost your vitamin C.”

  He grinned at me for the first time since he came in the store. “Now, if I didn’t know better, I’d think you were trying to get me to spend more, but I know you care.”

  I bagged up his purchases and watched him shuffle out of the store, slightly hunched over. Seeing him that way made me straighten up and vow to start doing yoga again. Maybe after I went running every day. Slumping was a terrible habit I vowed to break.

  Two women were talking as they came through my line. One worked at the florist and the other at the local animal shelter. With so many people sick, I was surprised there were any flowers left.

  “…like I told you, when I got in first thing this morning, there was a bag at the front door.”

  “Tell me there wasn’t a critter inside?” the one who smelled like roses said.

  The woman with short brown hair grinned. “I dreaded looking inside, but when I unzipped the bag, do you know what I found?”

  The other woman rolled her eyes. “Now you’re just being dramatic.” She yawned. “I hope Wilma and the others get better soon. Working two shifts is about to kill me.” She stretched and raised her eyebrows at her friend. “Well, are you going to tell me?”

  The animal shelter woman leaned close, drawing out the moment, and I found myself straining to hear.

  “The bag…it was full of cash.”

  The other woman gasped. “You’re kidding. Was there a note?”

  “Nope. No identifying marks on the bag, just a generic tote bag. When we counted it, there was twenty-five thousand in cash.”

  The florist put a hand to her chest. “I can’t believe it. Talk about an amazing donation.”

  “I know, right? We were really struggling. This will make a huge difference. Just wish I knew who to thank.”

  “Happy Fourth of July.” I handed them their change and the bags. Disgusting. You need to get back to work. “Shut up,” I whispered to the voice as I smiled at the women. Why have money if I didn’t put it to good use?

  CHAPTER 16

  I WAS EATING A BAGEL with cream cheese when the knock came.

  “Chris. What are you doing here?” He was wearing a t-shirt and paint-splattered jeans, and I frowned at the toolbox by his feet.

  “Sam sent me. They’re all sick.”

  “Is it bad? I swear, it seems like we hear about more people getting sick every day. This outbreak seems bigger than the news is letting on.”

  “They’re on the tail end of it, but once they’re done throwing up, it takes another week to quit feeling tired, so I told him I’d come. He said one of the kitchen cabinets is pulling away from the wall?”

  He followed me to the kitchen. “See here? I’m afraid to put the plates on the shelves.”

  “Leave it to me.”

  I finished my bagel and put my plate in the dishwasher. “Hey, you want anything to drink?”

  He h
ad the cabinet off the wall, and I hoped he knew what he was doing. Chris eyed my Pepsi.

  “I’ll take one of those.”

  “You got it.” After I gave him the drink, I went for a quick run. When I got back I stopped, blinking at the mess.

  Chris held up his hands. “Don’t worry; it’s not as bad as it looks. Another cabinet was loose and one of the shelves in the lower cabinets was warped. Thought I’d take care of those too.”

  “Great. I’m going to get a shower.” I left him to it, and hoped I’d still have a working kitchen by the time I had to go to work.

  With two hours to go before I had to leave, I got us both another Pepsi and sat in one of the kitchen chairs to chat. My gram had raised me to be polite, and he was a tenuous thread to my past, so I grasped it.

  There was something bothering him, and after listening to him dance around it for an hour, I’d had enough.

  “What’s really on your mind?”

  “What do you mean?” He’d finished the bottom cabinets and taken a break, sitting in the chair across from me, eating my spaghetti pie, which sounds kinda disgusting but is actually really tasty. It’s basically spaghetti cooked in a pie plate, sliced like pie with chunky vegetables in the sauce.

  “I don’t know. Seems like there’s something you need to get off your chest.”

  He got up and looked out the front and back windows. “Can I trust you?”

  The tingling feeling was back. The darkness tasted the air, knowing something good was coming.

  “You can.” I purposely stretched out, looking relaxed to put him at ease, but inside, I was so excited that I could hardly stand it.

  “Remember that guy? Herman Licht, the one who died in the car accident?”

  “Vaguely.”

  Chris looked around again and licked his lips, then he went to his bag and laid an SD card on the kitchen table.

  “I found him filming in the plant the night he died.” He pushed the card over to me. “I don’t know what to do with this. I found it on the floor. Guess he dropped it.”