“Of course I remembered. You’re hard to forget.”
“I tried helping Mikey but I’m family so it doesn’t have the same impact. Besides, Karen and Kirk wouldn’t stop bugging me about what happened in our sessions and it’s supposed to remain confidential. Mikey might be a little beyond my help at this point and I recommended a more traditional style of therapy.”
Sarahbeth got a little teary eyed. “Sean’s death was really hard on all of us. Mom and dad have never been the same.”
I wanted to hug her and comfort her but in a flash she shook off her melancholy and with a mischievous grin she asked, “You wanna get out of here?”
I almost exhaled in relief. “Yes please!”
“Let’s go out the back,” she giggled. “I don’t feel like dealing with my family any further today!”
Neither did I.
Chapter One Hundred Ninety-One
I followed Sarahbeth out of the police station back door and into the blinding sunlight. It was nearing noon and the sun had gotten warmer. Harmony didn’t usually have hot days in the town but today was shaping up to be a warm one.
Sarahbeth fanned herself, “Wow it’s getting hot. Want to go swimming?”
“I thought you had mural painting to do today?”
“I do what I want. That’s the luxury of being your own boss. So what do you say? Want to go for a dip?”
“Sure.”
Sarahbeth motioned toward her car. “I’ll drive. We can swing by your place on the way and grab you something to wear and some towels.”
When we reached my house, Sarahbeth stayed in the car while I ran up the front steps. Mom was in the kitchen making lunch. “Hi son. What are you up to? Are you hungry? I’m making your dad some lunch. Would you like a sandwich?”
I kissed ma on the cheek. “Can’t stay. I’m going swimming with a friend.”
She raised an eyebrow but didn’t pry. “Then how about I make a couple sandwiches that you can take with you?”
“Mom, have I ever told you that you’re my favorite parent? How was church?”
“It was good. Pastor Simon preached on forgiveness.” A snuck a peak at me from the corner of her eye and I raised an eyebrow her way. She continued, “Mr. Forrester was there. He said he ran into you last night. He seemed very sad and was extremely apologetic. He said to tell you he was sorry for getting out of line.”
“Why didn’t he stop by to apologize himself?”
“Now Jason, that man has had some terrible grief. Be a little more gracious.”
“Mom, when we were kids he accused me of having something to do with Marc’s disappearance. He was always a cruel man to him. He never apologized. Fourteen years later he still acts like a jerk and still can’t say he’s sorry?”
“Some people have a hard time admitting when they are wrong.”
“I’m glad you can forgive him, Ma, but I don’t think I can. Not yet.”
“Can you forgive yourself?”
My breath caught. “What do you mean?”
Mom turned away from the counter and the sandwiches to give me her full attention. “I mean, you seem to have a heavy burden on your shoulders, son.”
“Dad told you?”
“You think he keeps anything from me? Besides I keep up with you just fine on my own.”
“Geez, for a small town, people here sure are good at keeping tabs on someone three thousand miles away.”
Mom swatted me with her dishtowel. “You’re my son. You never come home to visit. So I did what any mother would do, I set a Google alert.”
I laughed. “What do you know about Google alerts?”
“Sharon down at the library showed me how to do it. When your name hits the news, I know about it; since you don’t tell me stuff.”
“Mom, you don’t need to hear about my working environment. It’s ugly and nothing happy happens.”
“I can handle more than you think I can, son. So, what I want to know is, can you forgive yourself for shooting that man?”
“There’s nothing to forgive. He was burglarizing the place, hit the owner over the head with a pipe and when I tried to arrest him he grabbed for a gun. It was him or me.”
“I understand you were doing your job. That doesn’t mean it doesn’t get to you. Taking the life of another human is a heavy thing.” Mom reached over and laid her hand on my face. “I know you. You don’t just brush things off and if its weighing on you, you need to forgive yourself.”
I grabbed her hand and held it in both of mine. “I know, Ma. I’m fine, I promise. I can forgive myself just fine.”
“Then why can’t you forgive Mr. Forrester? He didn’t hurt you. He didn’t hurt Marc. The only thing that man is guilty of is letting his grief get the best of him. You think he drinks because he’s happy?”
“No, I guess not.”
“Then show the man the grace you would afford yourself; that your GOING to afford yourself and be kind.”
“Yes ma’am.”
Mom hugged me and handed me a brown paper bag with sandwiches. “I threw in a couple of fresh baked cookies. Now go have fun with that young lady and be respectful.”
“How’d you know I was going with a young lady?”
“I told you – Google!”
I tried to hide my smile. “You’re a sage, Ma.” I wet to my room, changed into my swimming trunks, grabbed two towels and ran out the door. “I’ll be home for dinner!” I yelled as I jumped down the porch steps, just like I was fourteen again.
Chapter One Hundred Ninety-Two
Sarahbeth pointed her little red car down the familiar dirt road and we sped toward the quarry. We drove past the gated off section where we used to jump and she glanced at me with interest as I watched it go by.
“No jumping,” she said with a small smile. We turned into a turnout about half a mile away from the jumping spot and parked. We grabbed our things and went down to the beach area. I say beach but really it was like gravel.
In California we had real beaches. Soft sand with waves that made your toes curl. Here it was rocky lake inlets and “sand” was more like pebbles.
We found a spot clear of brush and laid out our towels. Before I could even sit down, Sarahbeth had stripped to her bathing suit. The lyrics “Itsy-bitsy-teeny-weeny-yellow-polka-dot-bikini” instantly ran through what was left of my mind and I admired her as she picked her way towards the water. No wading in; she just dove head first under the cold water.
I quickly stripped to my shorts and followed suit. The water was so cold. The icy runoff from the Rocky Mountains never warmed up. It was bracing but I felt myself come alive in a way I hadn’t in years. Between the nostalgia of being home and the tumultuousness of the last few days, I knew I needed this.
Sarahbeth swam over to me and dunked me under the water. When I came up for air she was already yards away and swimming towards the floating dock out on the water. I shook the water from my ears and took off after her. My strong smooth strokes warmed up my muscles. By the time I reached the float, Sarahbeth had already hoisted herself up and was stretched out soaking up the afternoon rays. I plopped down next to her and we lay there in comfortable silence soaking up the vitamin D and quiet.
“So what the big city like?”
“Roland isn’t really that big but its definitely a city. It certainly isn’t as quiet as Harmony.”
“I’d love to visit some day.”
“No you wouldn’t. It’s a ghetto.”
“We could always go sight seeing. You live near San Francisco, right?”
“Yes, I am. There’s a lot to to see. California is a big state.” I ventured into her daydream. “We could go see the Golden Gate Bridge and there’s so still a multitude of museums I have yet to visit. There’s much more to California than beaches and San Francisco though.”
“So maybe you should educate me.” She rolled over and squinted at me. “Seriously, I should go home with you.”
I glanced over at her. “You tryin
g to get out of here?”
“I’d run away with you, Jason.”
“I’m not looking to run away and it wouldn’t be ‘away’ it would just be home for me.”
Sarahbeth smiled, “So take me home with you.”
“Sweetie, I’d like nothing more than to have you along for the ride but….are you sure you want to leave all this?” I gestured towards the open water and wide sky.
She flopped onto her back in a mock huff. “All of what; this small town that smells like cow manure, the family trauma? I want to SEE things. I want to BE places. I want to experience MORE. I won’t get that if I stay here.”
“You have a college education. You could go anywhere.”
“That’s what I mean. I’d just rather go with you. Take me with you?”
“Let’s just enjoy today, shall we?”
“Why? Is there someone back home?”
“No. It’s not that.”
“I bet there is. What is she, your partner or something?”
My mind flashed to Lizzie. I had never really thought of her as more than my friend. If I was honest enough I would say I missed her and I was having a harder time away from her than I thought I would. “I do have a partner and she is a female but she’s just a friend.”
“What’s her name?”
“Lizzie.”
Sarahbeth spit her name out. “Lizzie. Sounds like a priss.”
I found myself a little on the defense. “She’s not a priss. In fact she’s been through a lot. She’s tougher than most men I know.”
“I thought all female cops were lesbians.”
“You have a little mean streak in you don’t you?”
“I was just stating a fact. Don’t go getting your panties in a twist over it.”
“See if you came home with me you’d be on the other side of police work. It’s not good for married folks.”
“Who said anything about being married? I’m good with living in sin.”
“If you can’t handle your jealousy now, all these miles away, you certainly couldn’t handle it there.”
Sarahbeth’s voice became stony. “You’re probably right.”
I looked at her and hoped I hadn’t just ruined a nice afternoon. “Don’t you have a boyfriend here? I can’t imagine you being single. Guys must be lining up to spend time with you.”
“Oh they are. I just happen to prefer the sullen silent types who only come around for a week at a time.”
I reached out and grabbed her hand and held it softly. Two seconds later Sarahbeth pulled her hand away, got up and without a word dove back into the water. I watched her swim towards the shore with just a tingle of regret.
Halfway to shore, Sarahbeth stopped and tread water. She yelled, “Are you coming or not? Those cookies aren’t going to eat themselves.”
I closed my eyes and soaked in a few more rays. I sighed out loud as I thought about the cold lake water in my immediate future, got up and dove in after her.
By the time I reached the shore, Sarahbeth had made a nice little picnic for us. We spent the next few hours napping in the sun, eating and swimming. The tension between us seemed to have been forgotten, for the moment.
Chapter One Hundred Ninety-Three
As Sarahbeth drove us back into town, I asked her to do me a favor. “Can we stop by Marge Freelander’s house?”
“That old crank? Why?”
I wasn’t sure I wanted Sarahbeth to know I was following a hunch so I avoided her question. “She still lives in the same place, doesn’t she?”
“Yes. That old biddy will die in that house. Tell me what you’re up to.”
“Only if you promise not to make a huge deal out of it…and you don’t tell Kirk.”
Sarahbeth’s face clouded with suspicion. “I promise.”
“The night Marc disappeared, Marge heard a loud argument coming from their house. She swore it was Marc and his dad.”
“So what?”
“The police looked into it but the timeline doesn’t fit and she was dismissed. I just thought I’d stop and see if she has anything else she might remember.”
“You’re really digging into this aren’t you?”
“No, not really. I just figured a conversation couldn’t hurt.”
Five minutes later and Sarahbeth pulled up to Marge’s ancient house. I could see Marge, busy in her front garden, tending to her flowers and spying on everyone who walked by. She stood up, held a hand to shade her eyes and squinted at the sight of our car.
I got out and stepped onto the sidewalk. Sarahbeth started to open her car door but I instructed her, “Stay here.”
I walked to the white picket fence separating the sidewalk from Marge’s domain. “Marge Freelander?”
The elderly Marge didn’t budge from her lower beds. “Who’s asking?”
“My name is Jason Camden.”
Marge dropped her spade and ambled over to meet me at the fence. “You’re that Camden boy. Your dad owns the hardware shop over on Main Street.”
“Yes ma’am.”
“What can I do for you son?”
I shifted back and forth, suddenly nervous about pestering her. “I don’t know if you remember my friend Marc Forrester? He used to live next door to you?”
Marge’s voice became soft and her face took on a sadness that encouraged me to pry. “I remember Marc very well. They never did find him, you know.”
“I know.”
“What is it you want to know?”
“You told the cops that you heard arguing that night?”
“Yep. Lots of yelling coming from that place over there.”
I cleared my throat. “You told the officer that you heard the arguing at eleven that night. How certain are you about the time?”
“I’m definite about the time. The yelling was so loud it woke me and I looked at the clock.”
“What exactly did you hear?”
“Well, I couldn’t hear what they were saying exactly. I just heard two men yelling and glass breaking.”
“At eleven p.m.?”
“Yes.”
I looked over at Mark’s house and tried to imagine an argument so loud that it woke this little old lady. “I don’t know if the police told you or not but that night, Marc and I had gone swimming at the quarry. He left my house at eleven. Are you sure it was Mark and his dad that you heard?”
“I don’t know who was arguing. All I know is that there was a ruckus loud enough to wake the dead. That man was a horrid drunk and he was always yelling at that poor kid.”
“Mr. Forrester?”
Marge leaned heavily on the fence between us. “I’ve known that man since he was a boy. He used to be so happy. I watched him grow up! When he met his pretty little wife he was over the moon. They were so excited about having a baby. She was really the sweetest thing I’d ever met, that wife of his.” Marge shook her head. “Terrible tragedy when she died.” Marge sighed, “I suppose a sadness like that is bound to change a man.”
“How did he change?”
“He started drinking. Neglected that boy something awful. I used to babysit him you know?”
I turned at the sound of a car door opening. Sarahbeth must’ve gotten antsy in the car. She stepped up to the curb next to me.
Marge squinted at Sarahbeth. “And who’s this?”
Sarahbeth held out her hand, “Hi, I’m Sarahbeth Johnson.”
Marge examined Sarahbeth over the rim of her glasses. She looked skeptical but small town manners demanded she shake her hand. “I know who you are. Your Kirk’s littlest sister, aren’t you?”
“Yes ma’am.”
“The girl who likes to paint pictures all over our historical buildings.”
Sarahbeth stuck out her chin. “It’s just one mural and it was approved by the mayor!”
“It’s an eyesore, young lady!”
I interrupted before this conversation could get out of hand. “Marge, can I ask, did you ever see Marc with any bruis
es or anything?”
She seemed offended by the question. “You mean like child abuse? No way. His dad may have been a very troubled man but I don’t think he would ever lay a hand on that boy.”
“What do you think happened to Mark?”
“I told the officers everything I know.”
Sarahbeth asked, “What about rumors?”
“Oh sure. There were rumors that he ran off on his own. There were rumors he got kidnapped.” Marge looked at down at her hands and pretended to wipe dirt off them. “If I remember correctly there were rumors that your little boyfriend here had a little something to do with his disappearance. Rumors that Marc drowned out there in the quarry and you came home without him.”
Sarahbeth pushed the fence angrily, “That’s not true!”
I quieted Sarahbeth with a hand on her shoulder. “Yes ma’am, I remember those rumors all too vividly.”
Marge looked me in the eye. “Well then you know rumors are just that and can’t be trusted. Although, usually there’s a bit of truth to them.”
I straightened my back. “Not in that one.” Marge and I eyed each other for a brief second. I decided it was time to go. Marge hadn’t provided any useful information and I was starting to get uncomfortable. I thanked Marge for her time. I could feel Marge’s eyes on our backs as Sarahbeth and I walked to her car.
I opened the driver door for Sarahbeth and before she got in she laid a hand on my chest. “That old lady is just a nosy gossip. I don’t think she heard anything that night. I think she just wanted the attention.”
I kissed Sarahbeth on the nose. “Come on, let’s go.”
I closed the door and walked around to the passenger door. I was about to get in when Marge called out to me. “You try that cop?”
I paused. “What cop?”
“That lady cop that reopened the case. Joy something or other. She came around to talk to me just like you’re doing, only she seemed to think she had a lead. It seemed she knew a little something.”
“You wouldn’t happen to have her number, would you?”
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