The Source of Smoke Read online

  THE SOURCE OF SMOKE

  THE SOURCE

  OF SMOKE

  V. L. ADAMS

  NEW DEGREE PRESS

  COPYRIGHT © 2022 V. L. ADAMS

  All rights reserved.

  THE SOURCE OF SMOKE

  ISBN 979-8-88504-147-8 Paperback

  979-8-88504-779-1 Kindle Ebook

  979-8-88504-258-1 Ebook

  For Nate,

  You know why.

  CONTENTS

  * * *

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAPTER 12

  CHAPTER 13

  CHAPTER 14

  CHAPTER 15

  CHAPTER 16

  CHAPTER 17

  CHAPTER 18

  CHAPTER 19

  CHAPTER 20

  CHAPTER 21

  CHAPTER 22

  CHAPTER 23

  CHAPTER 24

  CHAPTER 25

  CHAPTER 26

  CHAPTER 27

  CHAPTER 28

  CHAPTER 29

  CHAPTER 30

  CHAPTER 31

  CHAPTER 32

  EPILOGUE

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  CHAPTER 1

  * * *

  Charlie Allen slammed her palm against the metal door of the mailbox with enough force to leave her hand smarting and the sound echoing in the air.

  It wasn’t the mailbox’s fault, but she needed an outlet for her anger. The mailbox happened to be an easy target. It wasn’t the mailman’s fault either, but she was a little bitter at him right now as well.

  Charlie stomped up the stairs and flung open the heavy oak front door to the blue-and-white craftsman home her nana had left her. Before the door had a chance to slam behind her, she was immediately greeted by her black lab, Buck. He licked her hand and nuzzled her leg through her ripped jeans as if he could sense that she needed comfort. She stopped to scratch his ears while she tried to calm herself.

  Breathe, Charlie. Deep breath in… deep breath out… in… out.

  The smell of the kale mac and cheese she made earlier that day mixed with the aromas of the house to form a slightly stale smell with hints of potpourri and beechnut left over from her grandparents. She felt her throat constrict and she wished for the days when Nana could kiss her forehead and make the bad stuff disappear.

  Focusing on her breath had calmed her slightly. But a glance at the letter in her hand had her heart racing again. Getting the mail hadn’t started it. Charlie had been uptight and fidgety all day. All week, actually.

  A week ago, she’d started having a hard time sleeping. She thought if she exercised enough during the day, she would pass out at night. But each night she fell in bed, only to watch the blades of the fan until the early morning hours. She woke up tangled in sheets and more exhausted than when she’d lain down.

  She hadn’t been able to concentrate or sit still either, so instead of working, she spent most of her time pacing. She forgot to eat lunch yesterday, she couldn’t taste dinner last night, and her stomach was in knots this morning. She even burned her hand on the kettle while making ginger tea.

  It was September 30. The anniversary of her sister Dani’s death—the worst day of the year.

  The day marked the loss of Charlie’s favorite person. It was also the day when Charlie left the life of independence she’d chosen for herself in Dallas. She gave it up for a life living in her grandmother’s house in the eastern Oklahoma town she thought she had left for good to raise someone else’s child. While Charlie would freely admit that raising Rainna was the best part of her life, it didn’t change the fact she wasn’t the one who was supposed to have that job.

  But as horrible as it was for Charlie to remember everything that happened on that day three years ago, it wasn’t the reason she couldn’t sleep, forgot to eat, and hit mailboxes.

  It had all started with a letter—one that arrived in the recently abused mailbox precisely two years ago. On the first anniversary of Dani’s death, Charlie had heard the metal door of the mailbox squeak shut, letting her know that the postman had made his delivery. With a handful of letters, she started walking back up the sidewalk to her front steps. That’s when she saw it underneath a solicitation for car insurance. The unassuming white envelope bore a stamp from the state penitentiary.

  Charlie only knew of one person who might send her mail from prison—the man convicted of killing her sister. And he was the last person she wanted a letter from.

  She didn’t open it. She didn’t want to. And no one could make her.

  On her way through the kitchen to the trash can, she stopped and looked at the letter. As much as she wanted to, she didn’t think she could throw it away. She jerked open the messy drawer filled with unused appliance manuals and shoved the letter haphazardly into the mess. She tried to slam the drawer, only to have it go in sideways and get stuck. After emptying the drawer, realigning it, and then refilling it, she was finally able to walk away.

  Looking back, she was surprised at how easily she’d forgotten that first letter. “Out of sight, out of mind” could be true, especially when Charlie spent most of her time adjusting to parenthood and chasing a toddler.

  On the second anniversary, she felt a tiny prickle of apprehension when she went to get the mail. Still, she managed to convince herself she was being paranoid. He would probably only send a letter one time, on the first anniversary, and she would never see anything from him again. She had stepped off the broken cement curb and into the street, chanting under her breath. “Please be empty. Please be empty.” When she stuck her hand in the mailbox, she knew that she was wrong. Only one envelope sat in the box; a standard white letter-size envelope with the stamp marking its origination as the state penitentiary.

  She’d gone inside, found the first letter and stood over the trash. In one motion, both letters could be gone, but she couldn’t do it. So she stuck them in the drawer, slamming it shut. Once again, the old drawer got out of line, and she had to spend time fixing it instead of ditching the letter and escaping the memories they brought up.

  After the second anniversary, she couldn’t put the letters out of her mind, even when they were out of her sight. Over the last year, she’d gone to the drawer about fifty times trying to draw up enough courage to see what he had to say. Somehow she always found a way of talking herself out of it. She would let go of the cold metal drawer pull and tiptoe away, pretending she had never been there.

  Today, however, Charlie could no longer fool herself into thinking she wouldn’t receive another letter. She wasn’t sure how he could time his mail so well—she couldn’t even get a letter across town in a timely manner, and she wasn’t in prison—but she knew what she would find. As she opened the mailbox, she saw it in the middle of a stack of junk mail and bills, a perfectly ordinary envelope with a prison stamp. Once again, the man who killed her sister had written her. Three letters for three years.

  Maybe he wanted to apologize. Perhaps he was evil and wanted to taunt Charlie. Maybe it was something else entirely. It didn’t matter what he wanted. What mattered to Charlie was that she wanted to get rid of the dread and stop feeling like a coward. She still remembered the look in his dark eyes when he took the witness stand and told the courtroom, “I’m innocent.”

  She walked through the front door with purpose. Charlie went straight to the drawer with the other two letters. She dug them out of the mess of manuals and laid all three on the dining room table. Looking up, she stared at her reflection in the mirror hanging ove
r the table.

  I’m doing this. No more stalling, no more letting him make me a coward.

  She met her hazel eyes in the mirror, pushed her long dark hair behind her ears, and straightened her thin frame to pull herself to her full height.

  Charlie picked up the three letters and examined the postage stamps. She placed the two more recent letters on the 1920s dark wood dining table and examined the first. She hesitantly ran her finger over her neatly printed name and address. Sticking her index finger in the opening of the letter, she attempted to pull the adhesive apart but ended up ripping it open and making a mess of the envelope. Inside was a single piece of paper, folded into thirds to fit neatly.

  The script was precise and not the scratchy, slanted, almost illegible handwriting that she had been used to seeing from her former law school classmates.

  Charlie,

  I know I’m the last person you want to hear from, and I hate the idea of causing you more pain than what you’ve already gone through. You have no reason to believe me, but I did—

  A high-pitched repetitive sound bounced around the room, grating on Charlie’s nerves and leaving her ears ringing. The page fell from her fingers as she scrambled to shut off the alarm on her phone. Crap! Her alarm meant that she was late to pick up her niece, Rainna, from preschool.

  Charlie learned the hard way to always have a backup plan. Shortly after Dani died, Charlie had lost track of time while setting up the layout for a sponsored post on her food blog. The daycare called when Charlie hadn’t shown up and they were trying to close. It shouldn’t have been a big deal, parents run late all the time, but one of the teachers at the school had gossiped about it. The incident took place right before Rainna’s custody hearing, and Charlie’s dad and cousin—who both wanted custody—tried to say that because Charlie had forgotten to pick Rainna up a single day, she wasn’t fit to be guardian. Luckily, the judge honored Dani’s wishes from her last will and testament and Charlie got custody.

  Since then, she’d kept an alarm on her phone to warn her when it was time to pick up Rainna. She didn’t need to give the town any more reason to gossip about her.

  Charlie grabbed her keys off the hook and pulled the front door shut. She swore under her breath as she pushed and pulled on the handle to get the deadbolt to line up with the strike plate on the frame so she could lock it. After a few tries, she got the door secured and headed to her Jeep.

  Several cars were still in the parking lot and kids in the building when Charlie arrived. She had made it in time to avoid any aunt-shaming from the moms and teachers.

  “Auntie!” Rainna screamed when she saw Charlie.

  It never ceased to amaze Charlie the joy she felt every time Rainna greeted her. Rainna was the type of kid whose happiness seeped out of her pores. When she was in a good mood, her body wiggled, and she did a little dance like she had to find an outlet for her emotions.

  Rainna wore hot pink leggings and a polka dot shirt that reflected her boisterous personality and contrasted sharply against Charlie’s usual outfit of a neutral cotton top and jeans. Charlie bent down in time to catch Rainna in a massive hug as Rainna ran straight for her. The smell of sweaty child, outside, and watermelon hit her like a brick.

  “Did you get another sucker from Ms. Neelan?” she asked Rainna, looking down with a mock stern expression.

  “I’m not telling!” Rainna responded while crossing her arms and trying to mimic her aunt. The curls in her long black hair were in knots and she was squinting her brown eyes.

  “I bet I can get you to tell,” Charlie teased as she reached toward Rainna’s ribcage and started tickling.

  Rainna dissolved into a fit of giggles. “Stop! Okay, okay, I give! Stop, Auntie!” she begged, breathing hard and still laughing. “Yes! I had a bubble pop!” she admitted.

  Charlie always melted a little when Rainna used her particular phrase for a sucker. “Well, I hope you did more than just eat candy today.” Charlie winked at Rainna. “Alright, sweets! Let’s head out. I have a special dinner prepped.”

  “Mac and cheese?” Rainna asked, always hoping for one of her favorites.

  Charlie bent down so that her face was on Rainna’s level and tried to make her voice sound tough. “You want mac and cheese? I made you fancy salmon yesterday, and you ask for boring old mac and cheese?” Rainna giggled. “Fine. I guess you can have mac and cheese, but you know my rule.” The two of them continued together, “If you don’t add a little spice, you’re not doing it right.”

  Charlie buckled Rainna into her car seat, trying to ignore the drink stains and stray Cheerios. She didn’t mind a little mess, but she was always blown away by how disgusting kids could get things in practically no time at all.

  After a quick drive listening to nursery rhyme songs, she and Rainna raced up the stairs and into the house.

  Charlie pulled out her grandmother’s cornflower CorningWare casserole dish from the refrigerator. It was filled with the prepped mac and cheese that she had put together earlier in the day. She had worked on the recipe for a while and thought it was finally ready for her blog. Charlie had taken the prep photos as she put together the ingredients. She would take a few shots of the dish in the oven and after she finished baking it. Rainna loved to help with the pictures of the finished product by taking a utensil and scooping out a huge bite. But Rainna’s chubby hand holding a spoon or a fork was all that ever appeared in a post photo. Charlie was protective of their privacy.

  Her food blog started out more as a journal and evolved into a full-time job. One of her law school classmates in Austin loved her cooking so much, he’d created a place for her to share the recipes. And then another classmate had submitted her blog as a feature to a legal website that posted stories about lawyers or law students and their side hustles or passions. The legal website posted about Charlie a week after she put up a story about lighting her apartment on fire when using too much liquor in chocolate fondue. It struck a chord with people, and her followers blew up overnight. She enjoyed the creativity and writing so much that when she and her ex split up after her second year of law school, she decided to pursue it full time, rather than finish her degree. Now, several years later it still paid the bills.

  She had only gone to law school because a guy in undergrad had bet a bunch of his friends that none of them could make a higher score on the LSAT than he could. If any of them did, he said he’d give them a thousand dollars. Charlie always liked a challenge, so she took the test and scored four points higher. She got the money, and he talked her into a date, then into applying for law school, and finally into marrying him. But Charlie quickly discovered that he wanted her to be something she wasn’t—polished, professional, and a lawyer’s perfect wife. Charlie preferred to be messy, creative, and independent.

  “It smells so cheesy in here, Auntie!” Rainna said, practically bouncing on the balls of her feet in excitement. Buck was right beside Rainna, hoping for a bite of whatever they dropped. “Wait! Why is it green? Did you put salad in it?” she asked, her eyebrows scrunched and her lips pursed, all excitement from moments before quickly dissolving as she saw the casserole dish full of pasta coated in a green cheese sauce.

  Charlie wanted to laugh at how adorable Rainna was when something didn’t meet her expectations.

  “Okay, okay. Calm down. It’s not salad, silly girl. Let’s take these pics, and then you can make your mind up if you like it. If not, you can have chicken nuggets.” Charlie had blended kale into the sauce, making the dish green, but the white cheddar was strong enough to cover the kale flavor. Rainna was going to love it.

  Rainna held her nose to avoid the “salad” smell and put a small bite into her mouth for the first taste. Charlie sat back, trying to keep the smile off her face. Rainna’s expression started out looking like she was pained. Then it shifted to thoughtful, and finally, it changed to approving. “It’s not that bad,” she said as she ate another bite. Charlie was laughing by the time Rainna shoveled the last
spoonful in her mouth. “We can have this again, Auntie.”

  After dinner, Rainna played with her dolls while Charlie cleaned up the kitchen. “Five more minutes,” Charlie called out, letting Rainna know she would be going to bed soon.

  “What’s this paper, Auntie? It’s got my name on it!” Rainna walked into the room holding the letter that had caused so much anxiety in Charlie hours before.

  CHAPTER 2

  * * *

  Seeing the paper in Rainna’s little hand brought the events of earlier in the day back to Charlie like a shock of static. She had left the letters in the formal dining room, which also served as a storage area for Rainna’s toys. At four and a half, Rainna was learning to read and could pick out her name and a few other words.

  The past two hours had been a fun and silly blur filled with laughter and cheesy goodness, but suddenly the cheese and pasta felt too heavy in her stomach.

  “Well,” she started, feeling her voice shake. “It’s a letter to me from someone who knew your mommy.”

  Charlie had a strict “no lying” rule when raising Rainna, but that didn’t mean she told her everything. Death was a complicated concept for a child that young, and as much as she tried to be open, she still some hadn’t figured out how to share some things.

  “A letter from mommy’s friend? Will you read it to me?”

  Rainna wiggled around like she couldn’t stay still at the prospect of a letter from someone who knew her mommy. She was obsessed with anything to do with her mom, and Charlie should have known that she would latch on and want to learn more. She bent down to Rainna’s level and looked at the wide, brown eyes that looked so much like Dani’s. Charlie took a deep breath to steady her nerves and muster her courage, “I haven’t read it yet, sweets. Let me read it first. It might be a letter just for grown-ups. But if I think it’s okay, one day I’ll read it to you or let you read it yourself.”