The Devil's Wire Read Online Free Page A

happened to you, Jen," then paused, "No more fighting, okay? And I'm going to try harder about the food thing with McKenzie" and handed her a cup of coffee just how she liked it, hot enough to burn your nose, and she'd forgotten how good he could be and she wanted to hug him and hold on but that would be strange given their recent difficulties so she kept her hands to herself and watched him get dressed then depart to chase up another possible lead on a job.
    After he left, she put on her clothes and went down to the kitchen where McKenzie was about to dump a full box of Chocolate Crunch Cereal into her bowl.
    "Dad said I could."
    Jennifer swiped it out of her hands.
    "You may have your father wrapped around your little finger, madam, but not me. And would you take off that silly cap."
    Jennifer flinched. She hadn't meant to sound so critical.
    "This is just as good," she said, placing the Light and Low Bran in front of McKenzie.
    And there was that sullen face again, but Jennifer ignored it, and pulled up the blinds and looked out the kitchen window at the house across the road and saw no sign of the strange, woolly-haired woman, but her heart began to beat fast just the same.
    "Did you know we have new neighbors?"
    "They moved in last week."
    "I didn't notice."
    "You never notice anything," said McKenzie, getting up.
    "They might have kids."
    "You don't need to find friends for me, Mom."
    Jennifer looked at that plump moon face and limp strawberry-blonde hair so different from her own. She used to think she'd taken the wrong baby home from the hospital until Hank assured her that he had an elderly Aunt that looked exactly like McKenzie.
    "That's not what I meant," said Jennifer.
    "Can I have some lunch money?"
    "Over there," Jennifer pointing to a salad wrap and apple on the bench.
    "Apples hurt my teeth."
    Jennifer had heard this countless times before and it sparked the memory of the mandarins she'd stopped to buy last night from the all-nighter grocery store on the way home from the club because she'd wanted to avoid hearing the apples hurt my teeth excuse the next day.
    "Wait there," said Jennifer.
    She went into the garage to retrieve the mandarins and was nearly sick when she saw the blood on the fender. She got a rag and wiped off the mess and told herself she wasn't trying to hide anything, but who wants to drive around with blood on their car? She returned to the kitchen and gave McKenzie three mandarins and told her she better get off to school and then rang the garage and asked if they could fit her in.
    And as she drove to the repair shop all she could think about was how the incident was one of those "brick moments" Oprah talked about. A wake-up call. Get-your-act-together type of thing because next time the wall comes down on top of your head and knocks you clean out. It could've been a kid, although a dog was bad enough. It was a sure sign Jennifer needed to shape up and change her ways.
    Jennifer peers into the scope. She's close enough to see the pores in Mrs. Mendonza's cheek and smell peppermint and garlic and something Jennifer doesn't recognize, tomatoes maybe. She never gets used to the closeness. It seems like an invasion, like she has somehow taken the place of a lover. Mrs. M's iris is a beach shell worn down by the surf – gluey and swollen. The fibers of the optic nerve splay out brilliantly like dozens of tiny red-inked tributaries on a gas station map. Not good.
    "You can sit back now," says Jennifer.
    The older lady peels a mint from the silver foil and places it in her mouth while Jennifer makes notes.
    "That your daughter?" asks Mrs. M, nodding at the photograph on Jennifer's desk.
    It was taken on a day hike at Oak Valley, Jennifer's attempt to encourage McKenzie to be more active. McKenzie is crimson-cheeked and sweaty, her chubby twelve-year-old face half-hidden by that ridiculous Cleveland Indians baseball cap. McKenzie had never played baseball in her life. She'd never even watched a