The sound ignited something inside of Kat. She grabbed two frozen brats and hurled them at Delilah. One missed, landing in the grass beyond the pavilion but the other hit her square in the chest. Delilah stumbled backwards, clutching her shirt where it had hit her.
“Ladies, please,” I said, taking a step toward them. “Please don't do this.”
But Delilah had regained her balance. She leaned down and picked up the frozen brat. She wound up her arm like a pitcher and whipped it in Kat's direction. It smacked her squarely in the forehead, leaving a long, red mark above her eyebrows. The other woman caught herself on the table, squeezed her eyes closed for a moment, and then opened them.
And then she charged at Delilah.
I did what any self-respecting woman would have done. I took a step back and got out of the way. She tackled Delilah and they tumbled to the ground in a pile of unintelligible screams. They rolled around on the concrete patio, back and forth, their arms locked together like two Sumo wrestlers.
“Ladies,” I began but I knew it was to no avail. They were focused solely on each other.
“You killed him!” Kat screamed, her hands groping at Delilah's ponytail.
“I did not!” Delilah screamed back.
“You killed my son!” Kat screamed.
Delilah clawed at her hands. “I did not!”
“You killed my son!”
“I did not!”
Kat let out a howl that sent chills down my spine. “My son is dead!”
They both stilled, like a magic spell had frozen them in place.
“I know,” Delilah's voice was softer. Broken. “I'm sorry.”
“He's dead!” Kat wailed.
“I'm sorry,” Delilah repeated.
Both of them were crying. Sobbing, really, unable to speak or catch their breath. The wrestling had morphed into an embrace, each holding tightly to the other as they cried, their bodies shaking with grief.
“I'm sorry he's gone,” Delilah said, her voice ragged. “I'd do anything to have him back.”
“Me, too,” Kat said.
They released one another and sat up, wiping at their faces.
“I miss him,” Delilah said. Her eyes were puffy and red, her cheeks stained with tears.
Kat hesitated, then nodded. “Me, too.”
I stood there, wishing I was somewhere else. If they noticed I was still in the pavilion, they gave no indication.
“Did he really hate me?” Kat asked, her voice barely a whisper.
It was Delilah's turn to hesitate. But then she shook her head. “No. He didn't hate you. He missed you, but he was afraid he'd just make it worse if he tried to talk to you. I kept telling him he needed to make it right with you and he said he would. Some day.”
Kat nodded slowly. That had to be awful to hear, that her son had been planning to try and patch things up with her and now wouldn't have the chance. I thought of my own kids and how many times I'd gotten angry over simple things. Suddenly, I missed all four of them very badly.
“I'm sorry, Kat,” Delilah said, again wiping at her makeup streaked face. “I'm sorry he's gone and I'm sorry we aren't friends anymore. I'm really sorry.”
Kat stared at the ground for a long moment. “Just tell me one thing. Tell me you had nothing to do with Harvey's death. Promise me.”
Delilah paled and I saw her sharp intake of breath. Kat looked up, her eyes on her former friend's face.
“I had nothing to do with his death, Kat,” she said in a small voice. She hesitated, then added, “I...I promise.”
TWENTY SIX
I walked back up to the cabin, wondering about the final exchange between Kat and Delilah. Maybe Delilah had just been rattled by the fight and the conversation but she seemed flustered by Kat's request. I wondered why but it wasn't my place to insert myself in their conversation. I'd excused myself soon after and they'd both stared at me, almost as if they were surprised I was still there.
I took a shortcut back up the hill, finding a narrow dirt trail that snaked between two of the campsites. I got to the cabin and I heard footsteps on the deck. Jake must have just gotten back from his run. I thought about calling out to him but a chipmunk scampering across the grass caught my attention and I stood for a few seconds, watching it dart in between the hostas. I started walking again, rounding the corner so the deck was in site. I opened my mouth to say something to Jake, but then shut it and froze.
Chuck and Jaw were at the camper, just stepping through the glass door and back onto the deck.
Which meant they'd just been inside.
“Hey,” I blurted out before I could stop myself.
They both turned in my direction. They were wearing the same exact outfits as from before, thought Chuck had on a different greasy hat. Jaw was behind him, closing the door, with something in his hands.
“Uh,” Chuck said, his eyes widening.
“Shut up,” Jaw hissed.
“What are you doing?” I said, my heart rate escalating. I was pretty sure my voice was shaking, too. “Why were you inside?”
Jaw shifted his hands so whatever he was holding was on the other side of his body and I couldn't see it.
“Nothin',” Chuck said. “Just...”
“Shut up,” Jaw hissed again. “And keep goin'.”
Chuck looked unsure of himself, but then got himself moving toward the other end of the deck.
“What did you take?” I demanded.
“Nothin',” Chuck said.
“Not you,” I said, then pointed at Jaw. My fingers were trembling. “You. What do you have in your hands?”
Jaw reached up a hand and messed with his sunglasses, like he was adjusting them. “I don't have anything in my hands.”
“Yes, you do. Did you steal something from us?”
“Run!” Chuck yelled and took off.
Jaw hesitated for a moment, then took off after him.
They both jumped down the stairs, their feet smashing into the gravel, their shoes kicking rocks everywhere as they started to run.
I stood there for a moment, frozen. They'd been inside our cabin. They'd taken something. I wasn't sure what it was, but they'd stolen something. And it was the second time they'd messed with us.
I was a little scared, but I was mad, too. A lot mad.
I scrambled around the corner of the cabin and jumped into the golf cart. I unhooked the charger from the port, turned the key in the small slot and hit the button to reverse. The cart jerked backward and when the tires hit the pavement, I pushed the button again and flattened the accelerator to floor. The cart lurched forward, the electric engine whining as it powered the cart as fast as possible. I turned the wheel left and took off in the direction they'd run.
The posted signs listed 5 MPH as the speed limit, but I was exceeding that, pushing the cart to it's full speed of...maybe 7 MPH. I saw my two burglars up ahead and, while I wasn't losing them, I wasn't exactly catching up to them, either. I ran a couple of the small stop signs where the narrow streets intersected and was the recipient of several dirty looks from people walking on the paths. I ignored them and stepped harder on the pedal, leaning forward as if that would somehow help the cart go faster.
I rounded the corner at the end of the street and Chuck and Jaw were still up ahead of me, still running and looking back over their shoulders. I seemed to be losing ground. They were heading down the road toward the clubhouse and what I assumed was the exit to the campground. If they got off the grounds, I'd never get them.
I pressed harder on the pedal.
Which might've pushed me to 8 MPH.
They scrambled over the corner of the last lot and headed down the hill toward the entrance. I stayed on the pavement and turned the corner behind them. They were picking up speed as they went downhill but my cart was locked in at the same speed, as if some invisible force was preventing me from going any faster even though we were going downhill.