Page 58 of Escaping Our Reality

She narrows her eyes. “And just why not?”

I lean close. Anticipating a secret, she does the exact same thing. “Because I’m daydreaming of throwing you across this table and ripping the panties from your body. With my teeth.”

She doesn’t shy away. That’s not My Lulu. But she does blush. “Well, I definitely don’t see how that would complete your psychology homework.”

“No, but it sure as hell would be a lot more fun.”

Tossing her straw wrapper at me, she turns back to her own chemistry homework.

Another cold front has come through. This one harsh, making the homestead too cold for us to hang out at, even with blankets and a roaring fire. That’s why this Saturday finds us at the coffee shop. At the same table we sat at last time. The same cashier was working as last time too. Lulu quickly reminded me her name was Peyton. She was also quick to roll her eyes when Peyton offered to fix me the same house coffee as last time because I obviously made an impression on her.

It tastes good this time too. Maybe Icouldbe one of those douchebags who buys fancy coffee every day. When I have money, and when I’m somebody, that is.

We spend hours huddled around the small table, working, talking, laughing. Refilling our drinks when they get low. Lulu always jumps up before me, feeling bad that I paid for the first round. We’re in the middle of a very serious conversation about our favorite colors—Lulu is very passionate about green—when we’re interrupted.

“I usually only see you talking this much when you’re trying to give me a headache.”

She jumps up from the table and wraps her arms around the man. She’s not stiff. She’s not standing like a statue. She’s acting like Lulu and not like Ella.

She’s completely and totally comfortable around… a police detective. Detective Marcum. I know him from Carrie’s case, obviously. He came over to the body shop when he was questioning everyone at the gas station. He asked if I knewanything. Of course, I told him no. Because I don’t. I don’t know what happened to Carrie.

But I also knew him from before then.

Years ago, he was the detective working on a case of fraudulent checks and property theft. Yep. Dear old Dad broke into a house and stole some checks and electronics. Not just anyone’s house. It was his boss at the time. He fired Dad for missing too much work and Dad thought he would get even. I remember Marcum coming to my grandparents’ house to ask us questions.

He knows my immediate family tree. A tree that sucks the life nutrients out of the soil around it. You don’t need weed killer, you just need my father, mother, and brother in the vicinity.

Their familiar whispers sprout a tinge of jealousy. But not for long. Lulu swings to me. “Marcum, this is Ryland Crutchfield.” She looks back at him, smiling, whispering. “My boyfriend.”

He’s caught completely off guard. His eyes grow round and his mouth opens in surprise. “And when were you planning on telling me this, Ella?”

She raises her eyebrows. “Now, Marcum. I’m telling you now.”

I rise from the table, offering my hand. Marcum shakes and furrows his brow, trying to recall how he knows me. “Crutchfield. Oh. Are you related—”

I interrupt him. “Yes, sir. Unfortunately, that’s me. Whoever you’re thinking of—my father, my mother, my brother. They’ve all been in jail.”

He nods, slowly, analyzing my face. Trying to see how much of their shit has rubbed off on me. Normally, I don’t get nervous. But he makes me nervous. Without looking I hold my fingers out to my side, begging for a connection with Lulu. I don’t have to wait long. Her fingers quickly wrap around mine, and we discreetly hold hands behind our legs as we stand.

Not discreetly enough. Marcum sees. Well, I guess I should expect that. They don’t give detective badges to just anyone.

“You know, son, if we were all judged by the actions of our families, there wouldn’t be any good people in this world.”

He called me son. Just like Harlan. Just like my grandpa.

“Ella, can I talk with you in private for a minute?”

She holds her head high and squares her shoulders. “Anything you have to say to me, you can say in front of him.”

Marcum’s eyes flicker back and forth between the two us. He snorts on a chuckle. “Tuck your tail feathers back in place. I was just gonna tell you something about the case.”

Her shoulders slag back into a comfortable place. “You should’ve led with that.”

He ignores her comment, used to it. Grabbing a chair from the table behind us, he motions for us all to sit down. “We received two anonymous tips over the past two weeks. One sighting in a small town near Phoenix. The other in Nashville. Locals already checked on the Phoenix one. It was nothing. We haven’t been able to discredit the Nashville one yet. Someone said they saw Carrie working at a flower shop downtown. Flower shop has been closed for the past few days, some kind of renovation, and the owner has been out of town. It’s supposed to open back up this coming week. I’ll let you know what they find out.”

Lulu shakes her head. “Not her. Carrie wouldn’t work with flowers. Pollen makes her eyes water. She hates it when her eyeliner runs.”

Marcum nods. “Plus…”

---