Page 25 of Copper

“Bad how?”

“Jalen and I were, well, we were trying to have a baby and couldn’t. It wasn’t anyone’s fault. It just wasn’t happening for us. Sex was just…” She trails off and clears her throat again, waving her hand in front of her face. “I’m sorry. It’s odd to talk about my sex life with a strange man.”

“I understand. Believe me, it’s nothing I haven’t heard. We’re all adults.”

“Sex with my husband would only happen when we were trying to have a baby.”

“I see.” And I do. Cynthia and I went through our phases when the bed was cold. Trying for Ruby was hard, and it definitely lost its luster after the eighth month of sex and Cynthia keeping her pelvis propped on a pillow after I came.

“Suddenly, Beck was this shiny toy with good hair. He was handsome and said all the things my husband wasn’t saying to me. I’d lost weight from depression, which probably wasn’t helping anything, but Beck was there with a text or a funny meme to cheer me up. He made me feel…special.”

“Did you know he was married?” I ask.

She nods. “I’m a horrible person for that, but I knew Lucy from the work picnics and everything. Beck treated her like shit, but I couldn’t stay away. Some perverse part of me liked that he was giving me attention and not giving any to her. It’s probably the way a lot of side-piece women feel. I was down on myself and not getting what I needed for my self-esteem. In some sick way, it felt good to take it from another woman.” She pinches her nose, and a tear falls down her cheeks. “I realize how awful that sounds.”

“It actually makes a lot of sense, Ellen. Can I call you Ellen?” She wipes her nose and nods. “When was the last time you saw him?”

Her eyes darken and she goes still, not even a tremble from her hands. “I told Beck I was pregnant.”

Holy fucking shit.

I cough to hide my shock and the gurgle that comes from my throat. “Forgive me, but I have to ask. Who was the father?”

“I don’t know.” She looks at me with a dark, pleading look. “I didn’t know then and I still don’t. I told Beck, and he left. That’s the last time I saw him. Part of me thinks he may have disappeared because he was scared I’d take him for child support.”

“Would you?”

“Why should I answer that?”

“I apologize. It’s just that I need to know how scared he was. If he wasn’t happy about being a father, it may have spooked him bad enough to make him disappear.”

“I would have zero intention of ever letting the world think that child belonged to anyone but my husband, Sheriff.”

I look at her thin frame. If she’s pregnant and Beck left months ago, she either lost the baby, aborted it, or was mistaken. A quick glance around the room shows no baby toys or blankets. “I assume you’re no longer pregnant?”

Another tear dribbles down the other cheek. She reaches for a tissue from a box on an end table this time. “I aborted. I couldn’t live with what I’d done. Jalen never knew I was pregnant. I couldn’t do that to him. Fuck, can you imagine if it came out looking like his work colleague? How would I explain it? I also couldn’t risk it if he got suspicious and asked for a DNA test.”

I tap a few things on my phone. I have more questions, but she’s getting upset. I’m not sure how much more time I have with her before she’s a blubbering mess. “Did he seem upset when he left? Like he was upset about the baby?”

Her lips twitches like she wants to spill something important, but she takes a deep breath. “He wasn’t happy.”

“I don’t suppose he mentioned where he was going?”

“No, sir.” It’s stiff. Her voice straightens where it trembled before. A lie? Just reiterating that she can’t help? It’s hard to tell with her.

“Mrs. Quarry, I know I’ve upset you today, but I need to talk about something with you. Beck Lenin’s wife has accused Beck of abuse. Do you know anything about that?”

She bites her bottom lip to keep it from trembling, and a line of clear fluid drips from her nose. “He was a cruel man,” she says before bending into a crouch position and pulling the collar of her t-shirt over her face.

I’m out of my seat and sitting on the couch with her in a few short seconds, and she allows me to get close, obviously convinced I won’t hurt her now. I rub her back in small circles like I’ve seen some of the female officers do for women down at the station. I’m unsure if I should be touching her, but she obviously needs comfort. I can’t just sit there as she sobs.

“Did he hurt you, Ellen?”

She doesn’t answer, but her head nods from the spot between her knees. She doesn’t volunteer information or push my hand away, so I pat her, waiting to see if she’ll talk more. For now, I let her cry.

We sit there for minutes as sounds of life go on outside. The block is tightly packed together, and sound carries from the intersection a few houses down. Loud trucks and motorcycles go by, gunning their engines. Somewhere a few houses down, what sounds like a UPS truck stops. A group of kids play on a porch at a neighbor’s house, and the silence is interspersed with shrieks. City living is loud, and it’s impossible not to know your neighbor’s business here. Hell, Beck and Ellen must have met in a hotel to avoid everyone knowing.

Eventually, she raises her head and accepts another tissue from me. “It’s OK if you don’t want to tell me about it, but I’m listening if you do. He’s no friend of mine.”

---