The Forgotten Holocaust by Scott Mariani

Author:Scott Mariani [Mariani, Scott]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780007486243
Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers
Published: 2015-01-28T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirty-Three

Erin had been home for a couple of days, with nothing to do but anxiously wait for something to happen. She didn’t even know what that something was.

Officially, she was off work for a week, laid up with some kind of summertime virus. As the story went, she must have caught it before the weekend, forcing her to return early from the lake cabin. Angela had been sympathetic, wishing her a speedy recovery. ‘I don’t know how long I can manage without you, though. Things are crazier than ever around here.’

Erin couldn’t stop fretting over the dilemma. She didn’t want to lose her job any more than she wanted to let Angela down – but how could she go back to work there, after what had happened? She didn’t know if she could look Angela in the eye. Worse, what if the mayor put in an appearance at the Desert Rose Trust offices, as he sometimes did? What would Erin’s own reaction be if she found herself face-to-face with him in the same room? Would she give herself away? Would he twig? And if he did, then what?

And on it went. The torment of waiting and wondering. Long hours dragging by. Day merging with painful slowness into night and back into day. Still no news – and Erin’s fear and frustration were preying on her more and more as she wondered what the hell the cops were doing.

She couldn’t sleep. The thoughts that kept her staring at the ceiling into the small hours were still with her in the morning. She kept replaying the interview with Chief O’Rourke and Detective Morrell in her mind. Surely this thing couldn’t just blow over as if it had never happened? Surely something had to be done about it? The situation couldn’t go on the way it was.

It felt like being under house arrest. She couldn’t focus enough to catch up on any work at home, couldn’t go out for her daily run along the Newblock Park Trail that flanked the Arkansas River. The only time she’d ventured any distance from her house was when she’d taken a cab to go and collect her Honda from the repair shop. On her way home, she’d stopped at a Kmart for some groceries and a cheap cellphone to replace the one she’d given O’Rourke.

Now, with nothing else to distract her agitated mind, she’d finally been reduced to watching this crass afternoon talk show. Some peroxide four-hundred-pounder was crammed into a studio chair dithering on about her lawsuit against the food manufacturer who’d victimised her by maliciously tempting her to stuff her face with too many of their products: ‘Look what they did to me!’

Erin sat staring at the talking heads until she couldn’t bear the inane babble any longer and launched herself off the couch. Camomile tea, she thought. Better that than Valium for soothing raw nerves.

Her kitchen was tiny, but neatly organised with everything within reach exactly how she needed it to be. All her utensils and cutlery were stored in the column of drawers under the small worktop.

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