Dirty Secrets

Part 23

After a quiet ride home from the mall during which Darcy apologized a thousand times, she steered her car to the curb near Lyla's house. A dark sedan was parked five yards away.

The sight of two familiar figures standing at her front door momentarily stopped Lyla's heart. She recognized Detective Morales' tight, nubby ponytail and the slouched posture of her humorless partner, Detective Steiger beside her on the porch.

"Go! Go!" Lyla exhorted but it was too late. 

"Miss Perry." Morales waved and jogged down the porch steps.

"I don't wanna talk to you," Lyla snapped.

The sunlight caught the edge of the scar that zigzagged from Morales' hairline across her forehead to her temple. Steiger lumbered into the street in front of the car to Lyla's window.

"No, no, it's nothing like that," said Steiger. His smile seemed misplaced on his lined face. "We're just finishing up some paperwork."

With a cop at each window, Darcy gave Lyla the what-do-you-want-me-to-do look. Lyla crossed her arms, refusing to make eye contact with either detective.

"It's about the deer," Steiger said. His breath stunk of coffee and cigarettes.

Lyla stared straight ahead.

"The night of the party," Morales slipped into her good cop persona. "Your friend, Jack said that his car was damaged when he hit a deer."

Steiger shook his head. "Those damn things come shooting out of nowhere right out onto the road." 

It was Morales' turn. "Did Jack hit the deer on his way to rescuing you, or were you in the car when that happened?"

Think, Lyla, think. It's a trap. 

Steiger said, "Seems like something you'd remember. A hundred and fifty-pound animal running thirty miles an hour, crashing into your car like that. Must have made one helluva racket," he said with an unctuous tone.

Lyla wound the handle of the plastic bag around her fingers while Darcy sat in painful silence.

"I've seen people killed by deer," he continued. "Coming right through the windshield in a split-second." He snapped his fingers. "Boom. Poor driver never had a chance to react. Dead on the spot."

"So you don't remember that?" Morales asked.

"I didn't say I don't remember."

Ryan stormed out onto the porch and rumbled down the steps, fury boiling his voice. "What's going on here?"  

When he approached, Detective Morales straightened, shoulders back, hands on her hips. Through her blazer, it was evident that she was solidly-built. "We just had a question--"

His face reddened. "I told you. You have any more questions, you talk to our lawyer. End of story."  

Lyla noticed the nosy neighbor peering out her front window.

"I oughta file a complaint. Now get out of here."

Morales returned a weak smile. Steiger didn't bother. They slowly made their way to the unmarked car and drove away.

"You girls okay?" Ryan asked.

Darcy turned to Lyla for a reply.

"Why are they being such assholes?" Lyla huffed. Then to her dad, she muttered, "Sorry."

"I guess we really do need a lawyer," he sighed.

Lyla pushed open the car door and got out.

"Wait," said Darcy. "I got your books." She popped the trunk. "Your assignments for this week." She lifted her overloaded backpack out of the trunk. "You want me to show you? I mean, you could go to the website and check assignments but that might take until Tuesday. Don't think the site has been updated since 1983."

"Come on in." Ryan smiled. 

                                                                     ........

Lyla and Darcy sat on her bed, a stack of books between them.

"Okay," Darcy began. "In Calc, we're working on graphing secants. "Remember? Graph cosigns first?"

Lyla nodded.

"In AP Chem, it's chapter eight, equilibrium problems."

"Why did I ever sign up for AP Chemistry?"

"You said you were thinking of Pharmacy school."

"Yeah, like that's ever gonna happen."

"Then in English, it's poetry."

Lyla facepalmed.

"We're comparing and contrasting old school and modern. This Robert Louis Stevenson poem." She opened a thin blue book. "A "Fairwell, Fair Day" or something like that. Here it is. We're comparing it to modern poetry. "Siblings" by Patricia Smith. I think it's about Hurricane Katrina. The link to her poem is on the study sheet."

Lyla couldn't look less enthusiastic. 

"You got your phone now. So, if you get stuck or need some help. Whatever."

Lyla heaved a troubled sigh. "This stuff that they're giving me. Makes it so hard to concentrate." She rubbed her forehead.

Darcy slid off the bed, found the floor with her feet. "Yeah, you don't seem like yourself," she replied sympathetically.

"I'm not." Lyla picked up the Calculus textbook. "I guess I better..."

"Yeah. Okay. See ya." Darcy headed for the door.

"Hey. Thanks for taking me to the mall. For my phone. I'm back to almost being a real person."

Darcy smiled. Lyla got up and pulled her best friend into a hug. "I don't know what would happen if I didn't have you."

"You, too," Darcy whispered.

"Hey. Don't say anything to anybody about those cops, okay?"

"Right. Right. Totally."

Lyla broke the hug, went to her bed and grabbed the thin blue poetry book. Darcy gave a little wave and rumbled downstairs. Lyla heard her say, "Bye, Mr. Perry," followed by the sound of the front door closing. 

She found the page and began reading the poem. 

"Fairwell, fair day and fading light. The clay-born here, with westward sight."

A long yawn pushed its way out of her mouth. She needed to cut through the medication glaze to focus. She placed the open book face-down on her bed.

Caffeine. I'd kill for a Red Bull.

She returned from the kitchen a short time later with a can of Diet Coke. She took a gulp, set it on her nightstand, and plopped back onto her bed. She picked up the poetry book and read aloud. 

"Full of drink and they were when they cut short his life, 

And never a tear did they shed. 

They cast him aside with their shame running rife, 

Left to whither, no pray'r for the dead."

Her eyes went to the title. 

"Requiem."

What the?

She flung the book from the bed, drew her knees together and buried her face. 

"Make it stop. Please make it stop," she whispered, her body trembling.