At the Quiet Edge: A Novel

The police officer stared at her from behind mirrored sunglasses, his blond brows raised high enough to crease his forehead into deep wrinkles. Lily couldn’t make out his eyes behind the lenses, but she tried her best to hold his gaze and look innocent.

The smile lines around his mouth seemed like a good sign, but the dimples she glimpsed when he spoke remained inert now despite her attempts at friendliness. He showed no interest in returning her smile, and she’d convinced herself he must be able to see the frantic thud of her pulse in her throat.

“No,” she said again, repeating her answer as if saying it twice would make it more true.

“You’re sure about that?” he pressed. “You didn’t see anything?”

“I’m sure. Nothing strange around here last night, not that I noticed.” Her smile trembled at the edges when his straight mouth stayed firm. “And obviously we’re pretty focused on security. Have to be.” Her wide gesture toward the storage lockers behind her felt far too dramatic, a hostess showing off prizes on a game show.

“Obviously,” he said, finally removing the shield of the reflective glasses. His eyes angled purposefully toward the camera mounted above the gate. Hazel. He had kind hazel eyes and more smile lines to frame them, and the sight eased her fear down by the tiniest fraction.

“Yeah,” she offered lamely, following his gaze to the unblinking black of the camera’s lens. It perched high above the sad lilac bush she and her son had planted five years earlier. The damn thing had only grown scraggly leaves and hadn’t flowered yet, and when her eyes drifted to the branches, she couldn’t help but see it as a sign of her failures.

“How many cameras are there? Do they all function?”

“Yes, they work.” She pulled her gaze from the shrub to force herself to meet his eyes. “But the gate never opened after hours last night, Officer. I would have received an alert if it had. It was quiet out here, and the gate is completely disabled after six on Sundays, so the only way in is over the razor wire.”

“It’s ‘Detective.’”

“Pardon?”

“It’s Detective Mendelson. I don’t think we’ve met, but I’ve seen you around, I think. Perils of a small town. I’ve probably stood in line behind you at the hardware store.”

“Of course!” she said brightly, though she didn’t remember him, and he was handsome enough that she probably would have. Was it possible he recognized her from the police station? But there had been only two detectives on the force the last time she’d been called in, and he hadn’t been one of them.

She cleared her throat. “Are things that serious? You only said someone reported a car lurking around. Was there a break-in?” Angling her neck, she looked past the gate toward the business park on the other side of the street.

Movement drew her gaze, and she spotted Sharon in front of the upholstery shop, crossing her arms, head craned to the side as she tried to spy. Of course.

Sharon waved cheerfully when she caught Lily staring. The woman had never once expressed any chagrin over what she called her “attention to detail” and Lily called “general nosiness.”

“Detective, if Sharon was the one to call, you should know she has a tendency to overreact. She’s very nice, don’t get me wrong, but . . .”

“You haven’t noticed any parked cars on the road? Maybe people meeting out here at night? Perhaps a woman you’ve never seen before?”

Alarmed at this sudden shift in questioning, she quickly shook her head.

“The lack of lights on this street can encourage unsavory activities,” he added.

Lily was very aware of how dark it could be here after the sun went down. Her place was lit every hour of the day to protect the storage units, but the constant light made her home stand out like a beacon.

It felt eerie driving down the deserted road at night, the facility that housed her apartment spotlighted in the blackness for all to see. Every other business in the isolated development closed at five, six at the latest. On slow Sunday mornings Lily could walk the road for an hour without seeing another soul.

“The street is kind of a catchall,” she said with a shrug. “The UPS guy sometimes sits on the road to have his lunch. People pull over to text or make phone calls. At night . . . I’m not sure. Maybe it’s the latest version of Lover’s Lane for local teenagers? I wouldn’t be surprised. It’s probably a good spot for a meeting place.”

“There’s a back gate?” he asked, ignoring her theories.

“Yes, but it’s only for emergency use and also has an alarm. That’s the reason for the on-site apartment. I’m on call twenty-four hours a day to address any security problems.”

“You live here alone?” He looked past her again, toward the office this time, and the hair rose on the back of Lily’s neck. She got this question surprisingly often, and she hated it every time, but a law enforcement officer like Detective Mendelson was probably the only person who had a good reason to be curious.

And Lily really needed to keep him focused on her and not the maze of hiding places lurking at her back. She needed him to look at her and believe her, so that he would go away and never come back.

“My son and I live here.” She flashed a purposeful grin, determined to make herself believable. “Yes, I know it’s an odd place to live, but it’s a nice, quiet location to raise a family. It’s just us and the pigeons.”

He didn’t laugh as he took a business card from his pocket and handed it over. He didn’t even offer the smile she’d worked so hard for. “The world can be a dangerous place on your own, ma’am.”

“Oh boy, I know.”

He finally met her eyes again, studying her until she had to force herself not to squirm. His sharp jaw ticked once, then twice before he finally nodded. “I’ll be sure to drive out more often now that I know you and your boy are here. Call me if you see anything.”

Oh, damn it. She’d only been trying to seem harmless, not helpless. But she’d taken her acting too far.

“Thank you, but we’re really fine. Like I said, it’s quiet!”

He started to turn away, then changed his mind, his shoulders softening a little. “I know Herriman seems safe and quaint, but there are dangerous people in every community.”

A moment of new worry for Everett broke through the red buzz of Lily’s fear. “Was this more than a tip about a car?”

At long last, Detective Mendelson offered a smile, and his dimples were just as charming as she’d imagined. “Just keep your eyes open, since you’re alone out here at night. Do you have cameras pointing outward? We could review the footage together.”

“The cameras are focused on the gates and the buildings, but I’ll be sure to take a look. The company is pretty strict about customer privacy. We’re part of a big chain, and you know how that goes.” She rolled her eyes as if she considered their rules a burden, but in this case it was a blessing.

“Got it.” He glanced around one last time, then pointed at her hand. “You’ve got my card. Get in touch anytime. I mean it.”

For a brief second she got the impression he might be flirting, but maybe that was why he kept the dimples under wraps. He was pretty cute, and certainly not out of her age range for dating. He looked maybe forty-five? Forty-six?

As if she could risk a cop hanging around.

As if it mattered when she hadn’t dated since college.

She knew thirty-two wasn’t old, but good God, she felt old. Tired of all these years dangling from a cliff’s edge. She couldn’t add new risks to her world. She had to fight her own impulsiveness for the sake of her son. If she drew police attention back into her life . . . If she lost her job . . .

Lily raised her hand in a small wave as the detective took a backward step toward the sedan he’d parked outside the gate. He hadn’t pulled in to one of the visitor spots. Cop instincts, maybe, wanting to leave himself a quick exit in case of an emergency. She admired the watchfulness. She could understand it.

Staring hard until he slipped back into his car, Lily managed another friendly wave of appreciation as he shut the door behind him. He was done. He was leaving. She was safe.

Detective Mendelson had barely made the turn out of the entrance when Sharon Hassan’s foot hit the street. She stepped off the curb to hurry across the road toward Lily.

“Is anything wrong?” she called with far too much excitement in her voice.

“No, nothing.”

“Is Everett okay?”

Lily’s irritation faded a little at the concern for her son.

“Everything is fine! The cops were just checking on that car you saw hanging around last night.”

“Me?” Panting from her near jog to get a little gossip, Sharon pressed a hand to her chest. “No, I didn’t call. Was there a robbery? A break-in?”

Lily frowned at that surprise. “Nothing like that. Just a suspicious car, maybe.”

“Wasn’t that Detective Mendelson? There must be something going on if they sent an actual detective.”

Lily watched as his car disappeared up the road, wondering if she’d been too quick to focus on her own worries. She’d assumed Sharon had been in her shop for a late appointment and had seen the delivery dropped off for Lily after dark. And that definitely would have looked suspicious. But if it wasn’t that?

A little icy fear trickled along her nerves. Were her old ghosts back to haunt her? Had Mendelson only been testing the waters?

She dragged a sleeve over her forehead to wipe off the nervous sweat. “He didn’t offer any specifics. Just asked if I’d seen anything out of the ordinary. A car, people, he wasn’t really clear.”

“Well, I’ll keep my eye out, and I’ll remind Nour to keep the alarm set when I’m not around. She always forgets, and she wears those dang sound mufflers when she’s using power tools. Someone could walk right in and steal the whole place right from under us, and she’d look up an hour later to an empty shop.”

Lily suspected Sharon was actually right about that. Nour was nothing like her wife. She kept her head down and her eyes focused on upholstery and woodworking, and she cared nothing for gossip. Then again, Sharon’s penchant for loose talk fit in perfectly with her front room job of going over fabrics with interior designers and their clients. She always had local stories to pass along, even if Lily had no idea who most of the people were.

Lily had been a part of the community when she’d first moved here, but trying to keep up with cleaning a house, cooking meals, and entertaining a toddler had consumed her free time. The only people she’d known had been other moms with young children.

And her husband’s clients, of course, but they made a point of not knowing her now.

“I hope this wasn’t about that big break-in at the pharmacy last week,” Sharon said with something suspiciously like glee. “Pill fiends! Maybe they’re looking to unload some goodies.” She glanced past Lily with narrowed eyes. “Anybody suspicious rent a locker recently? They could be hiding their stash while they wait for the heat to die down.”

“I hate to disappoint, but I haven’t rented out a new space in the past week. Things will probably be slow until summer moving season.”

“Well, keep your eyes peeled.”

“I will.”

Sharon started to turn, and Lily was sighing with relief when she abruptly swung back. “I almost forgot! Guess who my latest customer is? You’ll never believe it!” Without waiting for a response, she plunged into a breathless answer. “Kimmy Ross, Dr. Ross’s new wife! Oh my God, that has to be a big change after Francesca. No one was more shocked than I was that he got married so quickly after her death, but I suppose he is still a young man at fifty-one. And a thirty-year-old wife makes him even younger, I guess. Good Lord, she is not a fan of Francesca’s design aesthetic, let me tell you.”

Lily pressed her lips together, unwilling to reveal that she’d already suspected part of that story. Dr. Ross had moved some of his first wife’s old furniture into a storage unit just the month before. I can’t keep staring at it forever, he’d explained with a sad smile. Lily had suspected he’d happily keep the furniture if not for his new bride, and Sharon had just confirmed that.

“She’s tearing everything out,” Sharon added. “New kitchen, new bathroom, new paint, and some very expensive drapes and bedding. Gorgeous stuff. Teal and gray with brushed-nickel accents. Amazing they can afford that with his daughter in rehab, but that’s how it goes. Nour is making these stunning box valances for the bedroom. You should come over when they’re done.”

“Absolutely,” said Lily, taking a sidestep toward her office door. She’d try to avoid the visit, though. She didn’t enjoy oohing and aahing over furnishings she’d never be able to afford. Hell, she currently daydreamed of buying one of those basic Ikea beds with the attached bookshelves, so she definitely wasn’t springing for custom work anytime in the next twenty years.

Though maybe she could watch a few videos and learn how to make cute throw pillows. Sharon had offered scraps of her best fabrics in the past. Everett was twelve now. A better mom would’ve already upgraded him from his Adventure Time posters and SpongeBob pillowcases. His funny joke T-shirts rarely found their way to the laundry anymore. Her baby was growing up.

She could paint his bedroom and fix it up with more-mature décor, but . . . She sighed. Not until she’d finished her latest online coursework. Another bullet point of guilt to add to her endless list.

After waving a definitive goodbye, Lily escaped through the glass door of the storage center office, but it was only an excuse to get Sharon to leave. What Lily truly needed to do was head right back outside to check on the grounds and the fencing . . . and on the status of last night’s delivery.

Adrenaline flooded her blood again, and her heart sped right back up to its previous frantic beat. Why had she agreed to this? The first time had been an accident. The second time, her ego had gotten caught up in saying yes. This time she’d barely given it a thought, and now she felt sick with the risk she’d taken.

Managing this storage facility wasn’t just Lily’s job; it was her and Everett’s world. Their home, their security, their future. Their bubble.

She’d started feeling too safe. That was the problem. She’d landed this gig six years before, and she’d lost her gratitude for it somewhere along the way, distracted by her guilt over making Everett live like this, and resentful of how small and dingy her place in the world had become.

But small and dingy was better than out on the raw streets, exposed to every sight, sound, and threat that came along.

She may have fallen far, but she’d clawed her way back up to this ledge, and she’d be damned if she’d let her tired hands rest now. One more year and she’d be past the worst of it. She’d have her degree. She’d be ready to take on the world.

But not yet.

After standing quietly for a few minutes, she grabbed her keys and stepped outside, pausing to look for anyone watching or approaching. Things were usually quiet on weekdays before lunch. Though Saturdays could be busy enough to make her scream, nobody moved on a Monday.

She set off along the first row of large units, walking briskly, pretending to check the doors, but she was only eating up ground until she could get her eyes on her goal. She walked another row before cutting over to the high exterior fence. The top spiked up in razor wire, but none of that would make a difference if someone simply cut through the thick chain link to break in.

Everything looked secure, just as she’d suspected, the only anomaly the scraggly black cat that strolled past her without even a glance. When it wasn’t chasing field mice, it often lounged on the tops of stored trucks and cars, tolerating Lily’s presence as if Lily were the interloper.

She felt like one today, skulking around the property, eyes shifting at every shadow and whisper of wind. But this was part of her job. Checking on things.

Ears straining for the sound of approaching cars, Lily finally turned toward the open storage area of the facility. The maze of RVs and cars and covered boats never inspired a feeling of safety. It was a warren of hiding places and deep shadows, like a scene from an abandoned city in a zombie movie. A rabbit had once bounded out from a hiding spot and torn a genuine scream of terror from Lily. But today she already felt clammy with fear as she took a left turn into the deepest aisle and then another left into the next row of vehicles.

Nothing stood out about the RV she approached. The curtains were drawn tightly and the steps retracted just like all the others in storage. But her skin still prickled at the sight of it.

Lily looked to her right and her left and strained her ears for visitors again before she held her breath and tapped quietly on the door.

Nothing happened. Skin tingling with alarm, she tapped harder, quicker. “It’s me,” she whispered. The latch finally clicked and then turned before the door opened out two inches and revealed a pale oval of face in the dim interior. Thank God.

“Are we leaving?” the girl whispered.

“Not yet. I just wanted to check and make sure you’re okay. Did you hear anything strange last night?”

“No. Why?” The girl’s throat clicked loudly when she swallowed. But she wasn’t a girl, of course, despite her slight bones and wide eyes. She was a grown woman in her twenties, at least. “Did something happen?” she asked, voice pitching up as the door swung farther out.

“No, everything’s fine,” Lily reassured her. “I’m just making the rounds. The phone’s not here yet, so . . . if anything happens with you or . . .” Lily inclined her head toward the woman’s taut belly.

Amber. Her name was Amber, and she seemed to be at least seven months pregnant, if not more, looking for all the world as if she’d stuffed a basketball under her pink T-shirt.

Lily wasn’t supposed to know anything about her. The less any of them knew, the better. But the woman had introduced herself the night she’d arrived.

“We’re fine,” she said, her eyes arcing past Lily to scan the area behind her as her hand curved over her abdomen.

“I could bring fresh food if you need it.”

“What you left is good. Thank you. Will the papers be here soon?”

“Hopefully tonight.” Lily stepped back. “Just sit tight.”

The woman glanced around one more time before closing the door. The lock snicked quietly into place.

Lily backed all the way to the next RV before sucking in a deep breath. She counted in for five, then blew out for ten. Everything was fine. One more night at the most. After another breath of dusty, diesel-scented air, she felt steady enough to move.

As soon as she got back inside the office, she’d review all her footage; then she’d finish up her Monday paperwork and see if her restocking order had been approved by corporate. By the time she finished sweeping out the two newly vacated lockers, Everett would be home from school. Homework for him. Then dinner. Then homework for her.

If—

“Hey there!” a graveled voice barked from her right.

Lily jumped, spinning around, one hand out, the other sliding up to protect her neck from fatal blows.

“Whoa!” the guy croaked, raising a beer in salute. “It’s just me!”

At the sight of the white-haired man rising up from the captain’s seat of his stored boat, Lily’s limbs weakened and her eyes burned with a hint of relieved tears. “Jesus, Mac!”

“Sorry. Didn’t know you were lost in thought.”

The adrenaline hurt now, too much to absorb into muscles she no longer needed for fighting or fleeing. “You scared the hell out of me!”

“Well, I see that! Sorry, Ms. Brown.”

She waved a shaky hand. “It’s fine. I should’ve expected you when you didn’t show up yesterday.”

Mac snorted. “My wife had a big bingo potluck. Said she couldn’t spare me.”

“Well.” She looked pointedly at his beer. “Enjoy your fishing.”

“I will. No baseball game on the radio today, though.”

“You’ll have to settle for the sounds of nature, then.” She tipped her head toward the nearest metal doors and the pigeons cooing from the roof above them.

Mac laughed uproariously at that, and Lily would’ve wondered how many beers he’d already had, but she knew he only brought two for each visit. Anything more and he wouldn’t be able to bike home.

At first she’d assumed Mac had lost his license to a DUI, but after a few weeks of him visiting his beloved fishing boat, he’d spilled the truth. He’d had two unexplained seizures and couldn’t drive until he was cleared by his doctor. He’d lost work and had to sell his shiny black half-ton pickup, but he’d refused to give up his boat.

Still shaking, Lily waved goodbye and walked away. As soon as she turned a corner, she fell against the side of the storage building and waited for her world to steady.

When had Mac arrived? Had he seen anything? Though she’d been listening for a car engine, surely she would have heard his bike wheels crunching over stray gravel if he’d come anywhere near where she’d been.

Once the ache had left her muscles, she pushed off the cement block wall and cut through a narrow alley between two buildings to head straight back to the office. She needed water and a moment of peace to regroup.

She got neither. When she returned to the office, a young man was waiting, but he was the first person today who didn’t ratchet up her tension. His pimpled hangdog face was too forlorn to cause any alarm as he watched her approach.

“Hey, man,” he said dully when she reached the bench where he waited. “I need a place to store my gear. My woman kicked me to the curb.”

Lily pasted on a sympathetic expression, though she wanted to laugh at his choice of phrase and the old-fashioned hippie ponytail that hung limply to the middle of his back. “Short-term locker?” she asked, looking back toward the small mound piled at his feet.

“I guess. I’ve got a gig lined up in June, but I’m a free spirit until then. You ever heard of the Farm? It’s down in Tennessee, man. I might go check it out.”

He followed her inside, telling her all about a permanent commune still full of hippies, though she had to interrupt him to explain that without a billing address, two months of fees were due in advance. She handed him a list of prices.

By the time he’d signed all the paperwork and she’d given him a quick tour of the facilities, she was nearly over the morning’s panic. Maybe it was the calming effect of the pot fumes that wafted off the new client when he moved.

Once he left, Lily sank gratefully into her squeaky office chair to sip her room-temperature coffee and fire up the security footage.

This video review felt like overkill now that the cop was gone and her nerves were quiet. The road that led to the business park and storage facility was nearly a mile long and connected to a state highway. Whatever his worries were, these loiterers had nothing to do with her.

First things first, she pulled up the front gate footage from 8:00 p.m. and watched her own ghostly figure approach the closed gate. Headlights swept across the background of the shot, though a car never pulled into view. Instead, a small, hunched figure scurried toward Lily before Lily led her off camera. She highlighted the footage and immediately deleted it.

Done. That moment no longer existed for anyone except her and Amber.

It took nearly an hour to carefully scan the other camera feeds, but absolutely nothing popped up aside from a possum that waddled past with a few babies on its back. Lily allowed herself a faint smile as she made a note of the timestamp to show to Everett.

Her son had morphed from a cuddly little boy to an awkward, slightly standoffish tween, but she could still suck him in with cute animal content, and she’d mercilessly use any tactic to keep him close.

They were close, weren’t they? Despite everything?

Lily slumped back in her chair and rubbed a hand over her eyes. On good days she thought she was doing okay, raising a fatherless son the best she could. On bad days when one or both of them were in a foul mood, and she felt like she was failing him . . . Well, on bad days she turned on music and cried quietly in her bedroom while he played video games online.

There was no reason for this to be a bad day. She’d throw some frozen cookie dough in the oven as a warm welcome after his nearly mile-long walk from the bus stop, and she wouldn’t even be resentful if he forgot to compliment her baking.

And once she handed off her special delivery, she’d lie low, stop taking risks, and everything would get back to normal.