Page 7 of Snake
How many had she taken? And washed down with Bud Light?
He cupped his hands around her face and shook her, gently at first. “Momma. Momma, wake up.” When she didn’t rouse, he checked her pulse—slow, but rhythmic. A slightly harder shake. “Momma! It’s Danny. C’mon, wake up.”
She moaned and slapped at him. “Tired, leave me alone,” she slurred. “Go ‘way.”
When she rolled to her side in the chair and drew the threadbare throw over her shoulders, he checked her pulse again, decided she was under but not in danger, and backed off.
He starred at that fucking pill bottle. He could guess where she’d gotten it. His hand shaking, he grabbed that fucker, stormed out the front door, and marched across the street.
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~oOo~
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He was halfway up the neighbor’s patchy lawn when he heard, “Hiya, Mr. Danny!” in a friendly young voice.
It had come from in front of him, and Cox drew up short and found the little kid sitting under the bushes beside the porch steps, having made himself a hideout.
Cox hated most adults and could tolerate only a handful. By the time human beings reached maturity, they’d all learned to be selfish shitheads, and most of them could die in a fire, as far as he cared. But children were innocents, and he didn’t take his shit out on innocents.
He slammed his mental clutch and shifted gears, finding a smile for the boy. “Hiya, Colton. What’re you doin’ under there? Camping?”
“I’m a pirate! ARRR!” He brandished a paper-towel-tube sword. “I got ship-wecked.”
“Oh no! Do you need a rescue?”
“NO! I’m dis-cubbering! Like Columbus!”
Speaking of shitheads. “Okay, good luck! Is your mom inside?”
Colton nodded. “She’s makin’ dinner.”
Good. She’d be in the kitchen. He could go in that door, where Colton wouldn’t see.
He went to the side door and slammed his way in.
Standing at her pantry, Tally Baker jumped as her kitchen door slammed open. Still dressed in her nurse’s scrubs, she spun with a little squeaking scream, and then Cox had her by the shoulders and shoved her against the wall.
“I told you to fuckin’ stop giving my mother your goddamn drugs, you fuckin’ pusher. I guess you need a stronger lesson.”
Her eyes were round as pie plates. “I didn’t—”
Cox slammed her against the wall again. “Lie to me again.”
“You’re hurting me.”
“Yeah. I’m trying to.” Actually, he was trying to control himself, to scare her, not hurt her, but he wasn’t doing a great job. “Stop. Doping. Up. My. Mother.”
“I didn’t! You told me to stop and I stopped!” Suddenly, Tally deflated, and Cox knew her deceitful protest was over. “She’s hurting, Danny. I’m tryin’ to help her. You know how I feel about her.”
Yeah, he did. Tally had practically been his adopted sister when they were kids. She’d escaped across the street whenever her brutal father was in one of his ‘moods.’ His mother had kept her safe and given her the love she couldn’t get elsewhere.
Still furious, but in control of himself now, he eased off. “You’re killin’ her with your ‘help,’ Tal. You’ve got to stop.” He shook the bottle at her.
She frowned. “I didn’t give her a bottle. I gave her a couple packets. Just for a couple nights. Not enough to do anything but sleep.”
Those words rang true. Cox frowned at the unmarked bottle. There were almost ten pills rattling around in it. He couldn’t imagine his mother finding an actual dealer—if nothing else, she almost never stepped foot out of the house, and dealers didn’t generally make house calls.
