Tara Quinn - The Friendship Pact

I was glancing around, trying to take in a three-sixty while appearing perfectly calm and comfortable, all the while telling myself that nine-year-old Mary walked these streets every day. And if she could do it, I certainly could.

It wasn’t defaced with graffiti. There weren’t obvious criminals or gang members hanging out, leaning against trees. Scoring drugs.

A young mother walked a baby in a stroller across the street. Further down, a couple of preschoolers played on a porch that was blocked off with makeshift baby gates.

I could hear someone screaming.

The air smelled like stale onions.

With my mace key fob clutched firmly in one hand, I started up the walk. I probably should have texted Danny, told him what I was doing. But I already knew what he would’ve said.

Don’t. If you’re concerned, call the authorities.

I didn’t want to call the authorities. Not yet, anyway. I’d met Mary’s mother, who clearly loved her children and had been willing to do whatever it took to keep Mary in my class, despite the child’s problem behavior. It was also clear that she was doing whatever she could to hold her family together. I saw potential in the little girl, too, who got straight As when she applied herself. Mary’s older brother had been a conscientious child—old before his years, watchful of the other kids in class, too quiet maybe, but nice.

All the indications were that the family didn’t have it easy.

Having social services poking around might just tear the family apart. I raised my hand to knock and stepped back as the door opened before I made contact.

“Can I help you?” A man stood there, in (or wearing)black shorts and a short-sleeved denim shirt that hung over his waistband. He was clean shaven, with a mustache, and his hair flopped over his forehead above eyes that were peering at me suspiciously.

“I’m looking for Mrs. Ephrain,” I said, glad I’d worn my oldest jeans, a T-shirt and tennis shoes. At the moment, the last thing I wanted was to be taken for someone there in an official capacity.

Maybe I should have listened to Danny, telling me not to come. Well, if I’d actually told him I was coming. Or told anyone where I’d be...

“She’s busy. What do you want with her?”

The man didn’t raise his voice. There was nothing overtly menacing about his face. Still, I was...uncomfortable.

I tried to peer past him anyway. Like maybe I’d see Mary peeking around the corner, or her mother or brother in the background. “I actually just came by to say hi,” I improvised. “Are you Mr. Ephrain?”

“I’m Bud Lenowski,” he said.

I wanted to ask if he lived there. But I couldn’t figure out a way to do it without sounding like I was checking up on him. Why that mattered I wasn’t sure yet, but I knew it did.

“My name’s Koralynn,” I said, totally flying by the seat of my pants. “Would you tell Liza I stopped by?” Mrs. Ephrain and I had never addressed each other by our first names. Thank God I remembered hers from Mary’s records.

“I’ll tell her,” the man said and shut the door in my face.

* * *

Bailey was in one of the smaller conference rooms when Diane, the middle-aged receptionist at Mayer and Mayer, buzzed to let her know that Koralynn was in the lobby.

The difficult session she was in—a pretrial conference with opposing counsel, during which she’d hoped to work out an agreement allowing her client, the young mother of two, to move across state lines to be close to her parents, who wanted to watch the children for her while she finished her college degree—wasn’t going well. The soon-to-be-ex-husband had not kept a single one of his visitation appointments since leaving his wife for another woman three months before. But was blocking her at every turn as she tried to get on with her life.

Bailey’s mood lifted the second she knew her friend was there. Seeing that she was getting nowhere fast, she ended the meeting, waited just long enough for the attorney to make his exit, and then hurried out to Kora.

“What’s up?” It was summer so not unheard of for Kora to drop by if she was in the area. But the tight expression on her friend’s face sent Bailey into immediate fix-it mode.

“Can you take an early lunch?”

She had one more appointment that morning.

“Maybe. What’s up?” she asked again.

“I want you to go for a drive with me.” She told Bailey about her trip to Mary Ephrain’s home and the presence of the man who’d introduced himself as Bud. “It’s not like I can tell you he did anything wrong. Maybe Liza wasn’t well. Or doing the laundry or something. But he creeped me out, Bail. The way he stood in that doorway, like I’d have to kill him to get by...When Mary got into so much trouble this year, we ran a check from school and there were no police records or doctor’s reports or any other evidence of abuse, but I’m also afraid that I created a problem for at least two innocent people—Mary and her mom—just by showing up at the door. He had no idea who I was, but he was clearly suspicious of me—a stranger asking for Liza. I don’t want him thinking she asked me for help or something behind his back, and taking it out on her. I feel I can’t leave them there without trying to check out the situation a little more. The way that man shut the door on me...My instincts tell me there’s something off.”

“So you want to go back?” Bailey’s nerves tightened.

“I want you to come with me. We can concoct some story—you know, like I’m a long-lost someone trying to surprise Liza, but blew it. You can be my official person, the one who verifies what I’m saying. My lawyer, or whatever. Or maybe we tell her she’s won some award...”

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