Roland P D Omnibus

by Ruth DuCharme

  Sarahbeth put an end to the conversation before it went somewhere she didn’t want it to go. “Ok Mikey, we are done for the day. I’ll clean up and you go home and play.”

  “Thanks auntie.”

  As Mikey ran for the door Sarahbeth yelled out, “Go straight home!!”

  “Yes ma’am,” Mikey yelled back as he raced out into the sunlight.

  I looked at the painting Mikey had done. “Well that was interesting. How’s he doing?”

  “Better. He’s still a little shit but most of it is because he IS scared. He’s holding on to a lot of anger and resentment over his dad’s death and he doesn’t even realize it.” Sarahbeth slowly began collecting brushes and putting them into tin cans of paint thinner. “He idolizes Kirk but I wish he wouldn’t.” She paused and looked at me. “Don’t get me wrong, Kirk is a great big brother and even if he is a little bit of a bully he makes a great cop for this town.”

  After last nights antics I could formulate a great argument for just why Kirk WASN’T a good cop for Harmony. “But?”

  “But Kirk is a little too rule driven. Mikey needs more than just strict boundaries. He needs to understand where the anger comes from so he can let it loose once and for all. He needs to be able to vent it not reign it in.”

  I had tons of experience with folks who let their anger loose and it was never pretty. Sarahbeth was clearly an idealist but I was interested in her frame of reference. “Where do you think it comes from; this anger?”

  “I believe he carries around guilt that he doesn’t understand. When we lose someone we love, especially at such a young age, it can be extremely traumatizing. You of all people should know that.”

  I felt as if Sarahbeth had just slapped me. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “You lost Marc and you yourself told me that was when you stopped being afraid. I think that’s when you started being angry and so you used that to fuel yourself into the job you have now. You drowned your fear with anger.”

  “I don’t need my head shrunk.”

  “Are you sure about that? I know about the shootings you’ve been in and…”

  I held up my hand to stop her. “You’re checking up on me too?”

  “Jason, all I’m saying is that your lack of serious romantic relationship, the fact that you put yourself in a high danger career and once there you keep putting yourself in the dangerous situations are all indicators of something deep inside you. Now your home for a visit and the first thing you do is start picking at an old wound. Drama junkie. Adrenaline junkie. Tell me the truth Jason. Do you have dreams as well? Nightmares?”

  I looked at her with disdain and growing anger. “What the hell would you know about it? I’m not one of your kids, Sarahbeth. You’re just a child yourself and have zero clue about what makes any man tick, let alone me.” I turned away from her and stormed back the way I had come.

  Sarahbeth was undeterred and yelled out after. “Come back! Jason, its understandable you wouldn’t want to talk about it but you need to!”

  I did what any grown, mature, self aware, man defending his honor would do; I held my hand up over my shoulder and flipped her off.

  I was almost out on the sidewalk when I heard her yell, “Grow up!”

  I stomped my way to the grocery store. Who did she think she was anyway? My girlfriend? Good lord that woman was frustrating. Prying one minute and throwing herself at me the next. I guess some would call that a modern woman but right now I’m so mad I just call it bullshit.

  Man I can’t wait to get the hell out of this place!

  Chapter Two Hundred Four

  I reached the grocery store and quickly filled my moms shopping list. While I was waiting in line to pay, I heard my cell phone alert that a new message had through. I wasn’t anxious to read whatever text Sarahbeth was sending my way but because I am a glutton for punishment I checked it anyway.

  No text from Sarahbeth. An email from Lizzie. She had sent me the flyer I was waiting for! That girl was fast! A note accompanied the attachment. “You owe me!”

  Oh girl, you have no idea how big I owe you!

  I quickly paid for my groceries and hurriedly schlepped the bags towards home. Once there I unloaded the bags and put the items away.

  I quickly changed into my running gear and jogged to the hardware store where I found Pop stocking shelves.

  I was out of breath. Not from the jog over but from excitement. “Pop, I need to borrow your car for a few hours. Is that ok?”

  “Where’s yours?”

  I cringed. “It had some mechanical issues so I returned it.”

  Pop fished his car keys from his jeans pocket. “Just make sure you’re back in time to pick me up. I’ll be closing up a little early so I can get home and help your mom get ready for the carnival tomorrow.”

  I quickly grabbed the keys from his hand. “You got it!” I ran out the door. I had to hurry if I was going to make it to Deertail and back in time.

  Chapter Two Hundred Five

  I made it to Deertail in record time and found my way to the post office. Deertail was only slightly larger that Harmony but it was just as picturesque. I found a parking spot right outside the building and quickly went inside.

  Luck was on my side. There was no line and I went straight to the front counter and dinged the bell for service. A twenty-something girl with purple hair and a nose ring met me at the counter.

  “Can I help you?”

  I took the envelope that had contained the note out of my pocket. “I received this in the mail yesterday and as you can see here it was postmarked from this office.”

  The wannabe punk rocker took the envelope and examined it. “Yup. Sure does.” She smacked her gum and blew a bubble as she handed it back to me.

  “I don’t suppose there is anyway to tell WHO sent it?

  The girl looked at me as if I was the one wearing black eyeliner and a purple mop on my head. “Nope.”

  I took out my phone and pulled up the flyer Lizzie had made me. “Can you take a look at this picture and tell me if you’ve seen this guy?” I shoved my phone as close to the girls face as she would let me.

  “The kid or the old dude?”

  “It’s the same person,” I explained. “Do you recognize the older version of the person in this picture?”

  The girl shrugged. “I mean…he looks kinda familiar and all.”

  My heart leapt into my throat. “Seriously? You’ve seen this guy? In here?”

  “Maybe. We get a lot of customers in here but I think I may have seen him once or twice.”

  “When was the last time you saw him?”

  “Couple of days ago.”

  I stood in shock on my side of the counter and stared at the girl in front of me. She stared back. “Are you ok mister?”

  My brain was spinning. “I’m fine.” I pocket my cell phone and reached for the pain chained to the counter. I grabbed a mailing label from the stack next to the register and jotted down my cell number. “Here, please do me a favor. Call me the next time this guy comes in ok?”

  The girl popped her gum once more. “Sure thing.” She took the envelope and shoved it in her pocket.

  I hurriedly left the post office and promptly realized I had left my keys on the counter. I re-entered the building and walked back to the counter. The girl was now on the phone, her back to the counter. “Yeah, you told me to call if that dude came in? Well he was here. Showed me some picture of a guy.”

  I stopped dead in my tracks. She was clearly talking about me. I prayed she wouldn’t turn around and end her conversation.

  “No…uh huh…sure. I told him I thought I recognized the guy in the picture just like you told me too. Yep…OK…” The counter girl still hadn’t seen me. She walked through the side door and disappeared into the back somewhere, still talking on the phone.

  I approached the counter but from my vantage point, I could no longer see the counter girl or hear her. I grabbed my keys and left without pur
suing it further.

  My anger was back.

  Chapter Two Hundred Six

  I drove back to Harmony in a fury. What the hell was going on here? I bet that girl had been talking to Ben. He and I were going to have to have it out at some point but there were a few things I needed to do first.

  I made it back to the hardware store just in time to see Pop locking up. I met him at the door and handed him the key’s. “Pop, thanks for the car. I’ll meet you back at the house. I have a quick errand to run.”

  “Let me drive you.”

  “That’s ok. Ma’s probably waiting on you. I promise Ill be quick and home to help in an hour.”

  I set out on foot towards the one place I thought might hold an answer. It was a long shot but maybe something in Marc’s old room would give me a clue to where he had gone, if he had in fact gone anywhere I could find him.

  Chapter Two Hundred Seven

  I was pretty certain Mr. Forrester wasn’t going to want to see my face but what other options did I have? I was willing to take the chance. I reached Marc’s house in five minutes flat and nervously knocked on the door.

  I waited to hear approaching footsteps but none came. I knocked again and waited. Nothing. I took a peak in the front window; the house is dark. I glance over at Marge Freelander’s house but she is nowhere in sight.

  I try the front door. Unlocked. I am definitely disregarding all common sense now. I open the door slowly and call out, “Mr. Forrester? Are you home?” I had no idea what I was looking for but I was going to look anyway.

  I went to Marc’s old room first but all these years later it appeared Mr. Forrester had been using it for storage. Old newspapers were piled everywhere amongst large trash bags of empty beer cans. Nothing of Marc’s remained.

  I closed the door and ventured further into the house. I found another door and opened it. Mr. Forrester’s bedroom, in contrast to Marc’s old room, was neat and tidy. I went to the dresser and immediately noticed a picture in a frame sitting on top. It was a picture of Marc as an infant, lying in the arms of a beautiful young woman. She must’ve been Marc’s mother.

  I opened the top dresser drawer and pushed aside socks and t-shirts. Underneath them I found a small photo album. I took it out and sat on the bed as I thumbed the pages. I flipped through pages filled with pictures of Mr. Forrester and his wife on their wedding day, happy portraits of a family I didn’t even recognize and stopped short on a single photo of a beautiful portrait of Marc’s mom. Marc was the spitting image of her, as much as a boy could be. I flipped to the next page and found a picture of Marc’s dad smiling. Mr. Forrester looked so different back then. Aside from being so young his eyes were bright and his smile beamed from inside out. It made me sad to think of all that happened to turn this family inside out.

  I continued to look through the pictures of depicting Marc as an infant, in the hospital with his mom. These must have been taken right after he was born. More pictures; a proud mom and dad bringing their infant home and a nursery decorated with baseballs and tractors.

  I turned the page. No more pictures, just pages of newspaper clippings. An obituary for Marc’s mom. Articles about Marc’s disappearance. So much sadness.

  I shut the photo album. I had seen more than enough. My heart softened towards Mr. Forrester. That man had been through too much pain.

  I left the house as I had found it and made my way to the garage. The door creaked as I opened it and cobwebs hung in every corner. I pushed my way through them and made my way past fishing gear, a tractor and a rusty gun safe. Towards the back of the garage I found a large trunk. I pried the old clasp and found it contained Mr. Forrester’s army memorabilia. I sifted through the moth eaten clothing and pushed aside the black and white snapshots that depicted a younger Mr. Forrester in his glory days.

  And that’s where I found it.

  The army jacket Marc used to wear. The one and only real sign of affection his dad gave him. He had been wearing it he night we went to the quarry. I took the jacket out and held it up in the dim light. It had blood on it.

  Chapter Two Hundred Eight

  I heard the door creak open behind me and I turned.

  Mr. Forrester yelled at me, “What the hell are you doing I here?”

  I was shaking. I held out the jacket. “Never mind what I’m doing here. What are you doing with this?” I yelled.

  “My jacket?”

  “Marc’s jacket!”

  Mr. Forrester raced towards toward me and grabbed at the jacket in my outstretched hand. “What are you talking about? That’s MY jacket.”

  Mr. Forrester wrestled the jacket from my hand and I shoved him. He stumbled backwards.

  I pointed an angry finger in his direction. My voice shook, “That is Marc’s jacket. He was wearing it the night we went swimming, the night he went missing!”

  Mr. Forrester’s voice took on a softer tone and looked down at the article of clothing he held in his hands. “He was? Are you sure?”

  “Yes, I’m sure! How the hell did you get it if he never came home that night?”

  Mr. Forrester appeared confused now instead of angry. “I don’t know. I mean, I found it on the front porch.”

  “It has blood on it.” My voice involuntarily rose an octave. I felt like I was fourteen again. “You’re a liar!” I demanded, “What did you do to him?”

  Mr. Forrester looked at me with a puzzled expression. “Do to him? I didn’t do anything to him. I loved my son more than anything.”

  “He was scared of you.”

  Mr. Forrester just stared at me with a vacant look in his eyes.

  I continued my tirade and my words came out in stops and starts. “Marc was scared of you. He told me so. All your drinking. You didn’t love him. You wished he was dead! You blamed him for his mother’s death!”

  “Is that what you really think?” His voice was so low I could barely hear him.

  “It’s what Marc believed.”

  Mr. Forrester burst into tears and I stood there stunned.

  “Nothing could be further from the truth. I loved him so much. Marc was all I had left of my wife. I wasn’t very good at showing it. What the hell did I know about raising a kid? But Jason, I would never hurt him.” He looked at me with pleading, tear filed eyes and then lifted the jacket to his face and wiped them.

  I found that I was suddenly starting to feel sorry for the man. “Ok, then where did the blood come from and how did it end up on your porch that night?”

  “I have no idea. I saw it there in the morning, I told you. I was passed out drunk that night and in the morning I found this on the porch.”

  I pressed on. “Marge said she heard an argument that night. Could Marc have come home and fought with someone else without you hearing it?”

  “I have no idea.” Mr. Forrester looked ashamed. “When I drink, sometimes I black out and nothing can wake me.”

  I actually believed him. Was I getting soft? I reached my hand out, “Let me take the jacket in. I’ll run it to the police and have the blood analyzed. It might be Marc’s but it might not be. If someone hurt him the blood could tell us who. Would that be ok?”

  Mr. Forrester reluctantly handed me the jacket without a word. I touched his shoulder. “I’m really sorry for everything you’ve lost and for all the years of misunderstanding you have had to deal with.”

  Mr. Forrester didn’t respond and I pushed softly passed him and walked out into the night.

  Chapter Two Hundred Nine

  I walked slowly home. I had a lot of thinking to do and I wanted to pull my thoughts and emotions together before facing my folks. When I reached the house I stood out on the sidewalk looking at the light in the window. I was dusk and I could see my mom and dad shuffling around the kitchen. The delicious smell of pie wafted through the open kitchen window and if I hadn’t been holding a bloody jacket belonging to my childhood friend I would have said I was in the midst of a Norman Rockwell painting.

  I opened
the garage door and tucked the jacket behind a box on my one of my Dad’s workbench shelves. Marc had been missing for fourteen years and while I was filled with an urgency to solve his disappearance, to find out how that blood had made its way to his jacket, to find out who was responsible for whatever had happened that night, I knew a few more hours wouldn’t hurt.

  I put a fake smile on my face, inside and well into the wee hours of the morning I worked alongside my folks as we got ready for the carnival the next day. Despite everything that had happened today, the time spent with them was soothing and when we finally cut the last light I was able to go to sleep immediately.

  Chapter Two Hundred Ten

  I awoke a few short hours later, the early morning sun streaming into my window and the smell of more pie wafting down the hallway. My Ma was a machine in the kitchen and by the time I was dressed and walking through the kitchen door, she was covered in flour and cherry juice.

  I kissed Ma and poured myself a ht cup of black coffee. I looked around at the pies that covered every spare inch of counter space. “Ma, did you even sleep last night?”

  “Of course I did. I got a few winks.” She waved off the concerned look on my face. “I don’t need much sleep these days, son. Besides, there were only a few pies left to make and I knew if I got an early start Id be able to rest easier this afternoon.”

  I shook my head. “What time do you need to be at the fairgrounds?”

  “Not until six this evening. The carnival opens at eleven but I didn’t feel like spending the whole day there. My pies will sell fast and I’ll be able to enjoy the fireworks at dusk.”

  “I have an errand to run this morning but I’ll be back in plenty of time to drive you and Pop to the carnival and help you get settled.”