Page 56 of A River of Crows

Sloan sighed. How was this woman and the brilliant scientist her father always talked about the same person? She hung up and walked to the fridge. “How many eggs do you want?”

“None.” Caroline poured water into the coffee pot.

“You need to eat something. You keep losing weight.”

“Okay, fine. Get me a bowl of cereal.” Caroline rubbed her hands through her disheveled hair. “If you keep making me eat like this, I’ll look like Anna Hadfield.”

“You mean healthy?” Sloan opened the pantry door. “That’s how Anna looks because she takes care of herself.”

“And how do you know what Anna Hadfield looks like?” Caroline sneered. “You sneaking off with her again?”

“Stop. The last time I saw her was the same time you did.” Sloan realized immediately it was a mistake to bring up that day. Nothing made Sloan’s mother happier than recounting that incident.

“That’s right,” Caroline said. “That bitch had the audacity to show up on my property.” She chuckled. “You should’ve seen her eyes when I stepped out on the porch holding your grandpa’s old pistol.”

Sloan had seen Anna’s eyes, though she doubted they were as wide as hers. Because when Sloan saw her mother with the gun, she was sure she would fire it right into Anna’s chest. Sloan didn’t know why Anna was at their house that day. Nor why Anna still tried to call a few times each year. She didn’t want to see or talk to her father’s wife, but she didn’t want her dead.

“How about those Frosted Flakes?” Caroline asked over the gurgling of the coffee pot.

Sloan moved around a few boxes in the pantry. “Looks like we’re out of cereal.”

“Well, why did you ask me if I wanted some?”

Sloan rested her head against the pantry. “How about some eggs instead?”

“I’ll just go to the store,” Caroline said.

“I don’t get paid till Friday,” Sloan reminded her.

“What happened to my money? All the money my daddy left me?” Caroline asked.

“I wish I knew.” Sloan grabbed her own coffee mug and poured a cup. “You told me how much you inherited, but by the time you gave me access to the account, there was less than five thousand dollars.”

“Well, what the hell did you spend five grand on?”

Sloan clenched her teeth. “Mortgage, utilities, Frosted Flakes.”

“And that haircut?”

Sloan ran a hand through her shaggy bob. “Doreen doesn’t charge me.”

“Well, good. I wouldn’t pay a dollar for a cut that makes it look like I just rolled out of bed.” Caroline set her mug down too hard, and a trail of black liquid dripped down the white porcelain. “I’ll finish my research soon and write my book. That money will set us up for a while.”

Us. A while. Sloan didn’t like the sound of those words together. She thought about the call from the recruiter. Her expenses would be paid, so whatever she made working could go to her mom. That, together with the welfare, ought to be enough for Caroline to get by. “Speaking of the future, I’ve been planning for college.”

“Did I ever tell you crows have regional dialects?” Caroline asked.

Sloan threw up her hands. “Are you even listening? I want to go to LeTourneau. Longview is close enough that I can still come home and help when needed.”

“What’s wrong with the community college here?” Caroline asked.

“Nothing,” Sloan said. “But I was offered a full scholarship to LeTourneau.” It wasn’t a lie, she figured. Not exactly.

Caroline’s laugh was joyless. “Who gave you a scholarship? Daughters of Convicted Killers?”

“Not funny.” Sloan kept her eyes on her mother’s coffee cup. World’s Best Mom, it boasted. Sloan had bought it as a Mother’s Day gift when she was five. Back when she still thought it was true.

Caroline cleared her throat. “As I was saying, the sounds crows use to communicate with other birds are different depending on where they live. If a crow moves to a new area, he’ll learn to mimic the tone of the dominant crows in the region.”

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