Sarahbeth pulled to the side of the road and waited for the officer.
I heard a tap on my window and rolled it down only to get pelted in the face with rain. A large beam of light shone right into my eyes.
“Well, who do we have here?”
“Hey Kirk.”
Sarahbeth shouted at her brother, “Kirk! For god’s sake its pouring. What the hell are you doing?”
“I was curious to see who was speeding along like a demon in this weather and now I’m glad I stopped you! You could have killed my sister!”
“What? Wait? I’m not the one driving!”
“Get out.”
Sarahbeth yelled at Kirk again. “What? Kirk no!” To me she whispered, “You don’t have to put up with his crap. What’s he going to do, shoot us?”
Kirk’s voice became louder and he yanked open the passenger door. “I said, get out of the car, Camden!”
I peeled Sarahbeth’s fingers from my sleeve. “It’s fine. Just stay here.” I stepped out of the car and for the second time tonight I was immediately soaked to the bone. I followed Kirk back to his car.
Kirk whirled around and stuck his finger in my face. “What the hell are you doing with my little sister?”
“Nothing. She picked me up because I had been out jogging when the storm hit.”
“Stay away from her, Camden.”
“Kirk, she’s a grown adult and she can spend time with whomever she wishes.”
Kirk grabbed me by the front of the shirt. I don’t care if you’re cop or the president of the united-fucking-states. You stay the hell away from my sister! I’ve been patient with you up until now because you’re going back to that hellhole California in a few days. Frankly, Camden, that’s the only reason. You want to keep poking your nose in where it don’t belong? You go right ahead, but you leave my sister out of it.”
I tried to pull away from Kirk but he pulled my face in closer. “I know everyone thinks your this great all American hometown boy turned city cop come home to visit and grace us with his presence but you want to know something? I think YOU had something to do with Marc’s disappearance. I’ve always believed it and I always will.”
“If I was the one responsible then why would I be investigating?”
“That’s just it. I don’t think you ARE investigating. I think you’re finally trying to find someone to pin it on. Now that those papers in California have gotten ahold of the story you thought you better come home and clean up your mess. You thought you could salvage your reputation. Well guess what, I’m not going tot let that happen!”
Kirk let go of the front of my shirt and I stood there shocked at what he had said. I watched as Kirk stormed over to Sarahbeth’s window. I could see them arguing for a few seconds before she slowly drove off down the street. Without. Me.
Kirk came back and as he was getting into his driver seat he pointed his finger at me over the windshield. “Stay away from my sister! And I want my sweatshirt back!” Kirk slammed his car door and drove off into the night with his overheads swirling in the dark. Without. Me.
I stood there in the middle of the street for half a second before turning and heading towards home. What a trip this was turning out to be.
I was soaked, my girlfriend’s brother was out to kick my ass, I was being stalked and apparently the only sweatshirt Sarahbeth had been able to find belonged to Kirk.
I really missed California.
Chapter Two Hundred
I got home and stripped out of my wet clothes. I threw Kirks sweatshirt in the garbage. Screw him! I took a hot shower and went straight to bed. I was exhausted and even though my mind was a whirl of suspicion and anger, I easily fell into a dreamless sleep.
When I awoke in the morning there was no sign of last night storm. Everything was shiny and bright like nothing had happened. I lay there in my childhood bed for a moment going over the last night events.
Something Kirk had said struck me as odd. He said that California knew about Marc missing? I sat up quickly and reached for my phone. I pulled up the latest news and keyed in my name to see what would come up.
The first item to pop up was an article in Roland Confidential.
Local Cop; Third Shooting in Three Months
The article went on to give a lay by play of the three shootings I had been involved in during the course of my career. Tucked in among the “facts” and the insinuation that I was trigger-happy was one little, inflammatory sentence.
In 1991 Officer Camden was a person of interest in the missing person case of fourteen-year old Marc Forrester of Harmony Montana. The disappearance of Mark Forrester was never solved.
The byline was none other than my old pal Julie. I called her and she answered on the first ring.
“Julie, what the hell is the deal with this article?”
“Camden! I know, I’m sorry. I didn’t write it. The new crime reporter did.”
“Jules, the article has your byline. And do you mind telling me where your ace reporter got this information on my childhood friend?”
“You know we don’t reveal sources, Jason.”
“Blah, blah, blah. Save it, Jules! This is my life! This is my reputation!”
“He said he got a tip.”
“What? A tip from who?”
“He said someone from your home town called him. That’s all he would tell me.”
“Julie, listen. This is not true and I’m going to prove it. You better jack that new reporter for not checking facts before printing that garbage or I’m going to sue his ass!”
“To be fair, weren’t you a person of interest in that case?”
“I was fourteen and I had nothing to do with it!”
“Technically my reporter’s facts are correct.”
“Whose side are you on anyway? And what does it have to do with my shooting?”
“I’m on the side of the truth but I don’t think you could possibly be involved. And yes, the article was skewed to be a little sensationalistic. I’ll talk to him. And Jason, when you DO set the record straight you know who to call right?”
I slammed the phone shut. I liked Julie just fine. She had certainly been through her own share of drama where Roland P.D. cops were concerned but I was mad and I was holding this shit against her.
Chapter Two Hundred One
I had to think. That article was going to add more fuel to the fire in my most recent shooting investigation and I had to put a stop to it somehow.
I went to the kitchen to grab a cup of coffee and found both my parents had already left for work. I took my cup of coffee to the front porch and sat down on the porch swing. I stared out at the street where only a day before my car had been burned to the ground. This visit home had done the opposite of relaxing me. I was in pickle for sure.
I watched as the mailman made his way up the block, stopping at each mailbox and delivering bills, letters and packages to the occupants. Now that looked like a good job. No one to shoot, no one to confront, just stuffing envelopes into boxes and getting in some exercise to boot. I wondered if I could get a job like that when I was inevitably FIRED!
The mailman made his way up our walk and spotting me on the porch he cordially handed me the days mail.
I flipped through the stack of notices and junk mail and my heart stopped. There was an envelope addressed to Officer Camden. I turned it over in my hand. The envelope was your standard letter sized envelope with no distinctive markings. My name and address were hand written and I quickly realized there was no return address.
I slowly opened the envelope, a little nervous about what I may find.
I pulled out a single typed letter. My hands started to shake as I read it.
Stop looking for me. I don’t want to be found.
No way. This had to be a joke! This could not be from Marc, could it? What if he really had just run away and followed through with his fantasies of starting over? If he HAD done that, how did he know I was home and how did he know I was pok
ing around? The newspaper article. If this not was really from Marc then why didn’t he contact me in person or say more than these two cryptic sentences?
I checked the postmark and saw it had been stamped three days ago; before the article was released. The location said Deertail. Ben. He had gone to Deertail yesterday! Could he have sent this somehow?
I felt anger boil inside me. That same old anger that always seemed to seep through when my life got hectic. My adrenaline started pumping and I stood almost involuntarily, splashing my unfinished coffee onto Mom’s front porch. No more playing around. I needed to stop this nonsense once and for all.
I was going to find out what happened to Marc once and for all and I knew just how I was going to do it.
Chapter Two Hundred Two
I showered and dressed quickly. I grabbed my phone and walked the distance to the police department. I had a copy of Marc’s missing person flyer and I was going to make a new one, with a few tweaks.
If I could get an age progression shot I could do a side by side and put it out. If, and this would be a big if, Marc was still alive someone somewhere would see it. IF Marc was still alive I needed to know and no note was going to dissuade me. If Marc were dead, this new flyer would be a notice to whoever was responsible that I was NOT giving up and I was more determined that ever to uncover the circumstances in question. I knew I could be taunting my stalker into performing an act more dangerous to my health than just vandalism but that was a good thing. I could deal more effectively with the stranger I could bring out into the open. Hopefully this flyer would do just that; bring someone out into the open.
I entered the police department and stepped up to the now manned receptionist window. A woman in her sixties sat behind the desk and a nameplate told me her name was Darlene.
Darlene looked up and smiled. I didn’t recognize her but she seemed to know me. “Jason Camden! How can I help you? You need to make another police report? You get your car blown up this time?”
I didn’t think her comments were all that funny. “No Darlene, I quit with the rental cars. I didn’t want to be responsible for their inevitable bankruptcy due to loss of property.”
Darlene laughed. “Well aren’t you just a thoughtful young man. What can I do for you?”
“Is Kirk in?”
“No he’s out on a call.”
“What about the Chief?”
“The Chief in Billings for a conference for the next two days.”
I was relieved but I made my face into an expression of disappointment. “Shoot. I really needed to talk to one of them.” I leaned on the counter and gave Darlene my most innocent look. “Maybe you can help me? If I wanted to do an age progression on a photo of a kid could you do that?”
“You mean like you see on billboards?”
“Yeah, just like that.”
“Sorry, we don’t have that kind of computer program but you could call the FBI if it’s regarding an open case. They have a Missing and Exploited Children Unit that does all that stuff.” She opened her desk drawer and took out a business car. She wrote a number on the back. “Here, this is the number for the division you need.”
I took the card even though I had no intention of using it. “Thank you, Darlene.” I looked around the office behind her desk. “Is that a fax machine over there?”
“Sure is.”
“I handed Darlene back the card she had given me. “Can you write down the number for me? I might need to have something faxed over from this FBI Unit you so graciously pointed me towards.” Darlene took the card and as she wrote she asked, “You sticking around for the fair? There’s gonna be a great dance and I might be convinced to save a dance for you?”
“I wasn’t going to but I might have to now. What kind of man would I be if I turned down an invitation to dance with a pretty gal like you?”
Darlene winked at me as she handed me back the card with the fax number now written on it. “Say hi to your mom for me.”
“I sure will!” I could feel Darlene’s eyes watching me as I exited the building.
I know that involving the FBI would be tantamount to wrapping myself in red tape but I had another idea.
I took out my cell and dialed Lizzie.
“Jason! How’s my favorite cowboy?”
“Awesome,” I lied. “How’s work?
“Same old thing different day but hey, I’m almost to a call. Can I call you back?”
“That’s ok, I’ll let you go but first, I have one quick favor to ask…”
“Shoot.”
“I’m going to email you a picture. When you get a second can you run up to the Missing Person Unit and talk to someone about doing an age enhancement/age progression on it?”
“We can do that here?”
“We sure can.” I added, “I’d call up there myself but I’ve currently got a love/hate relationship with the department and I’m afraid if I ask they wont give me what I need. I’m not supposed to be working as you well know.”
“I get it. One question; just what am I supposed to tell them? No doubt the detective is going to ask me why I need this.”
“I don’t know. Flash those pretty eyes of yours, flip your blonde tresses and ask for a demonstration or something.”
Lizzie snorted in mock derision. “Flirt my way to getting what YOU want, huh?”
“It’s a mans world, lady. You’re just playing it.”
“Remind me to kick your ass for that when you get home.”
“I’ll see what I can do. Ok I’ve gotta go.”
The last thing I heard before Lizzie disconnected was her sweet voice yelling, “Hey, you there! Stop!”
Never a dull moment.
I quickly emailed Lizzie the photo of Marc I had taken from the missing person poster and crossed my fingers she would be able to get me what I needed.
Chapter Two Hundred Three
It was still early and I knew it would take awhile for Lizzie to get me what I needed. I decided I would run a few errands in the mean time. I stopped by the library and found Mom back amongst her treasured books.
“Hey Ma.”
“Jason, What are you up to today?”
“I know you have a lot of baking to do before the carnival tomorrow. I just stopped by to see if you needed anything from the store? See if I could help out in any way?”
Ma’s face lit up. “I sure do!” I watched as Ma went to a desk, grabbed a piece of paper and started furiously scribbling. “I have all the ingredients I need except for these few things.” She handed me the paper. “Are you sure you don’t mind? I will be off work in the next hour or so and then Ill be home to start baking.”
“I would do anything for you, Ma. In fact, once you’re finished here I will meet you at the house and we can work on those famous pies of your together.”
Ma kissed my cheek. “What did I do to deserve such a good son?”
I shrugged, “You were just fortunate, I suppose.”
Ma swatted me as I walked away. I exited the library and started towards the grocers. Two blocks later I paused at the open door of the Rec center. I could hear voices inside and one of them was Sarahbeth’s. Last night had ended on a really weird note and I thought I had better check in on her.
I walked through the door and into the small office. For a minute I studied the paintings on the walls. Most of them appeared to have been painted by kids but I could see that some were adults and some were the work of Sarahbeth as well. Se really was talented.
I followed the smells of paint and turpentine down a short hallway and found the voice I was looking for. Sarahbeth was wearing a white smock that looked like Joseph’s coat of many colors for all the paint that was on it. She had her head tilted to the side and she was looking at a canvas on an easel.
Next her sat a young boy, perched on a tall stool, paint brush in hand. Clearly she was in the middle of a session and I didn’t want to interrupt. I found a chair against the wall and out of the line of sight and watch
ed her work.
“Ok sweetheart can you tell me what you have here?”
The boy said, “It’s a picture of my family.”
“I see. And who are all these people?”
The boy pointed out each of the figures he had painted, “This is my mom and dad and me.”
“Tell me about the colors you chose. Why did you painted yourself green?”
“Because I feel green.”
“What does green feel like to you?”
I sneezed and they both looked up and spotted me.
“Sorry,” I mouthed at her.
Sarahbeth smiled. She waved me over. “Come over here.” I stood and walked to the easel. She tapped the boy in the head lightly. “I think you’ve met my nephew Mikey?”
Sure enough it was the thieving felon. “Hey man, how’s it going?” I put out my fist and Mikey bumped it with his own.
He looked at me cautiously and then in true irritatingly honest kid fashion he said, “Aren’t you that Jason guy who’s a cop somewhere else?”
I grimaced, “Yep. That would be me.”
“My Uncle Kirk says you were the biggest scaredy-cat in town growing up.”
Sarahbeth scolded him. “Mikey! Manners!”
I laughed. “Your Uncle Kirk was right. I was a scaredy-cat. What about you? Haven’t you ever been scared of anything?”
Mikey squared his shoulders. “Nope. I’m not scared of anything!”
“Lucky you. I wish I had been that way at your age.”
Mikey squinted at me with suspicion. “They let you be a cop if your scared?”
I shrugged. “I got over some of my fears but even as a cop I still get scared sometimes. And I bet your Uncle Kirk does too.”
“Scared of what? I can’t believe my Uncle Kirk is scared of anything. He’s the bravest man I know.”
I wanted to tell the kid that his “brave Uncle Kirk” was probably the biggest chicken in the world and that was why he was such a bully but I couldn’t bear the thought of bursting his bubble. “Your probably right, kid.”
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