Olivia Gets Grilled

“Olivia, I’m Sheriff Bearis, and this is Officer Webb.” The man who had captured her said, gesturing toward the young, skinny cop who looked around the room with his mouth open, plainly wishing for a camera to capture the moment.

“Webb. WEBB.” Bearis rapped his knuckles on Webb’s back; not taking his eyes from Olivia.

“Yeah, boss.”

“Why don’t you head outside and radio the station. See how much longer till Mrs. Caine gets here. I want to tell Olivia about her new home.”

“It’s Sunday, Sheriff. No one will be at…”

“WEBB!” Bearis warned. “Go. Take you time. And give me that folder.” Bearis snatched a manila folder from Webb’s grasp. All joviality fell from Webb’s face, and for a moment, Olivia thought Webb would hit him. Instead, Webb looked right into Olivia’s eyes, nodded with a condolatory smile, and left through the battered front door.

Bearis crossed the room and sat, without asking, in Olivia’s green chair, the only comfortable piece of furniture in the room. Olivia had dragged the chair down from her bedroom after realizing that the living room was the warmest place in the house. Many times over the last six months she had come home late from work and fallen asleep in the chair, waking an hour later in a confused panic of time and place.

“You ready to talk about it?” Bearis asked, in a voice that meant Olivia should confide. I’m not talking to you, she thought, concentrating on Bearis’ strange beard. It puffed out on the sides and went flat at the end. In the movies, cops are always clean shaven. Suddenly, a desperate question formed inside her.

“Is she okay? My grandmother, I mean.”

Bearis waited a moment before he opened the folder in his lap.

Olivia leaned away from the sofa and peaked at the contents as he flipped through it. On top, a tidy batch of Denver Post news clippings about her father’s accident, below that, a few pages of lined paper filled with writing she couldn’t quite make out.
Bearis came to what he was looking for and removed it.

Just as he snapped the folder shut Olivia glimpsed a photograph she never wanted to see again. A Caine family portrait. Her father, his wife and young sons. Next to them, in the place that Olivia should have stood, was a Christmas tree. Olivia’s gaze dropped to the floor. Her discarded peanut butter and jelly sandwich lay an inch from Bearis’ booted foot.

“Camille Caine suffered a stroke on December fifth of last year. She has been in a coma since that time. Her status has not changed.” Bearis offered Olivia the fax from St. Andrews Manor in Portland.

Olivia waved it away and exhaled slowly. “She’s okay then.”

“As okay as she can be.” Bearis leaned back into the chair, confident that Olivia’s injury would prevent an escape.

“Now Olivia, I want to make it clear that while what you have done isn’t punishable under the law, you do owe us a few answers.”

“You’re sending me to live with her, aren’t you? That’s punishment enough.”

“Actually, Miss Caine, your placement with your stepmother is only temporary at the moment. Meredith Caine hasn’t yet decided… I mean she’s still in shock over you’re father’s death.” Bearis took out a pen, a bright, hateful smile on his face. “Now, first tell me why you chose to lie to everyone and live alone.”

A white-hot anger filled Olivia’s heart and invaded her brain. She jerked herself off the couch and stood over Bearis. The sharp pain that shot up her leg only added to her fury. “You have that file in your lap about me. You know everything. Yet you ask me why, after everything, I would want to live alone; to stay in this house. I’ll tell you your answer now, sheriff. I lied because I wanted to. Because I was happy here, and because one day my grandmother will come home and I’ll have a family again.”

Bearis continued to smile, though darkness had taken hold in his eyes. “Sit down, Olivia.”

The front door creaked open. A summer breeze flooded the room and the wind chimes played a loud and haunting tune. In the door stood the dark and hulking Evan Giatti, a year ahead of Olivia at school, but easily twice the size.