She braced herself against the kitchen island, afraid she was going to puke. It was alarming and embarrassing.
Is this what I can look forward to at any remotely gruesome crime scene? At any scenes that remotely resemble what happened to Mom?
She could hear Sally in the back of her head, one of the first things she’d ever said to Chloe: I don’t know how a woman would make an exceptional agent. Especially one with your traumatic background. I wonder if that sort of stress comes home with you…
“Sorry, excuse me,” she mumbled. She pushed herself off the island and ran back to the front door. She nearly fell down the porch stairs on her way to the lawn, sure she was going to throw up.
Thankfully, the fates spared her that particular embarrassment. She took a series of deep breaths, concentrating so intently on them that she almost didn’t notice when Greene came quietly down the porch steps.
“There are certain cases that get to me, too,” he told her. He kept a respectable distance, letting her have her space. “There are going to be scenes that are much worse. Sadly, after a while, you sort of become desensitized to it.”
She nodded, as she had heard all of that before. “I know. It’s just…this scene brought up something. A memory I don’t like dealing with.”
“The bureau has exceptional therapists to help agents process through things like this. So never think you’re alone or that something like this makes you less of an agent.”
“Thanks,” Chloe said, finally managing to stand upright again.
She realized that she suddenly missed her sister very badly. As morbid as it seemed, fond thoughts of Danielle would flood through her whenever memories of the day their mother died surfaced in her head. It was no different now; Chloe could not help but think of her sister. Danielle had been through a lot over the years—a victim of circumstance as well as her own poor decisions. And now that Chloe lived so close, it seemed unthinkable that they should remain so distant.
Sure, she’d invited Danielle to the block part this weekend, but Chloe found herself unable to wait that long. And Chloe suspected that she wouldn’t even come.
Suddenly, she knew: she had to see her now.
Chloe didn’t know why she was so nervous when she knocked on Danielle’s door. She knew Danielle was in; the same car she’d had as a teenager was parked in the apartment complex parking lot, still boasting the band stickers. Nine Inch Nails. KMFDM. Ministry. Seeing the car and those stickers brought a pang of nostalgia that was more sadness than anything else.
Has she really not grown up at all? Chloe wondered.
When Danielle answered the door, Chloe saw that she had not. Or, rather, it did not look like it in terms of appearance.
The sisters looked at one another for a period of two seconds before they finally moved in for a brief hug. Chloe saw that Danielle still dyed her hair black. She was also still sporting the lip ring, protruding from the left corner of her mouth. She was wearing a slight bit of black eyeliner and was decked out in a Bauhaus T-shirt and ripped jeans.
“Chloe,” Danielle said, breaking into the faintest of smiles. “How have you been?”
It was as if they had seen one another just the day before. That was fine, though. Chloe had not exactly been expecting any sentiment from her sister.
Chloe stepped into the apartment and, not caring much how Danielle would receive it, gave her sister another hug. It had been a little over a year since they had seen one another—and about three since they had actually embraced one another like this. Something about the fact that they now lived in the same city seemed to have bonded something between them—it was something Chloe could feel, something she knew would not need to be vocalized.
Danielle returned the hug, albeit lazily. “So…you’re…what?” Danielle teased.
“I’m good,” Chloe said. “I know I should have called but…I don’t know. I was afraid you’d find some excuse for me not to come by.”
“I might have,” Danielle admitted. “But now that you’re here, come on in. Excuse the mess. Well, actually don’t excuse it. You know I’ve always been messy.”
Chloe laughed and when she entered the apartment she was surprised to find the place relatively tidy. The living area was sparsely furnished, just a couch, a TV and TV stand, a coffee table, and a lamp. Chloe knew the rest of the place would be the same. Danielle was the sort of person who lived on only the minimal amount of belongings. The exception, if she hadn’t changed since her teen years (and it seemed she hadn’t) was music and books. It made Chloe nearly feel guilty for the spacious and elaborate home she had recently purchased with Steven.
“Want me to put on some coffee?” Danielle asked.
“Yeah, that would be great.”
They walked into the kitchen, again only boasting the necessities. The table was clearly something that had been scoured from a yard sale, given at least a bit of dignity with a ruffled tablecloth. Two lonely chairs sat at it, one on either side.
“Are you here to bully me about your block party?” Danielle asked.
“Not at all,” Chloe said. “I was interning today and came to this crime scene that…well, it brought everything racing back.”
“Ouch.”
Silence hung between them as Danielle set the coffeemaker up. Chloe watched as her sister moved about the kitchen, a bit creeped out at how much it seemed she had not changed. She could very well be looking at the seventeen-year-old girl who had left home with the hopes of starting a band, despite their grandparents’ wishes. Everything looked the same, right down to the sleepy expression.
“Have you heard anything about Dad lately?” Chloe asked.
Danielle only shook her head. “With your job, I thought you’d be the one to hear anything. If there was anything to hear.”
“I stopped checking a while ago.”
“Cheers to that,” Danielle said, covering a small yawn with the back of her hand.
“You look tired,” Chloe said.
“I am. Only, not like sleepy tired. The doctor had me on these mood stabilizers. It screwed with my sleep. And when you’re a bartender who usually doesn’t get home until after three in the morning, the last thing you need is a medicine that fucks with your sleep.”
“You said the doc had you on them. Are you not taking them anymore?”
“No. They were fucking with my sleep, my appetite, and my libido. Ever since I stopped, I feel much better…just tired all the time.”
“Why were they prescribed in the first place?” Chloe asked.
“To deal with my nosy sister,” Danielle said, only half-joking. She waited a beat before giving an honest answer. “I was starting to get easily depressed. And it would come out of nowhere. I dealt with it in some…pretty dumb ways. Drinking. Sex. Fixer Upper.”
“If it was for depression, you should probably get back on them,” Chloe said, realizing as she said it just how intrusive she was being. “What do you need a libido
