by R E Swirsky
***
Michelle and Tawnie were quick to listen to Michael’s tale of forced confinement, hanging on to every detail as if they were on a giant roller coaster. When the ride was over, Michelle was once again settled into her role of reporter—challenging, questioning, and sorting supposition from facts. In the end, it was at most theoretical as the facts pointed to accidental deaths for all three victims. Fabricating a theory was always much easier than trying to prove one.
“So, what do we do about it?” Tawnie asked.
Richard shrugged and shook his head. “I really don’t think there is anything more we can do. Michael is home safe, and this is finally over.”
“Huh?” Michael said. “What do you mean over? They killed Lucy, Dad. How can this be over?”
He shrugged again. “We can’t prove any of this. C’mon, Michael. You’re safe and I think it’s time we let this go.”
“That’s not fair!” Michael said and slammed both fists onto the kitchen table in front of him, causing Tawnie’s water to splash up and over the sides of her glass. “She was murdered, Dad! Murdered!”
Richard instinctively raised his hands in a calming manner. “But we don’t know that, Michael. Not for sure.”
“Aargh!” Michael groaned. “Yes we do, Dad! You heard Metcalf! Why else would he kidnap me?” He tried not to cry, but he wasn’t that strong. A few tears crawled down his face. “We know everything!”
“Michael. Listen to your father,” Michelle added.
“We have photos, photos of Johnny’s dad stalking Lucy.” He thrust his finger out to challenge Michelle. “And you! Even you have photos!”
“Michael, please.…”
“No way!” He shouted. He pushed himself away from the table and stood, wiping at his eyes before pounding his fists at the sides of his head. “Shuuut uup!” He screamed. His eyes opened wide and he swung a fist through the air at nothing. “I said it was…” he mumbled and turned away, with his back towards the table. He rubbed at his temples again.
Richard stood and moved up behind Michael. There was no question Michael was fighting for control over the voices again.
“Shhh…please,” Michael whispered softly. “Let me think…think!” he said to himself.
“It’s okay, Michael. We won’t give up just yet.” He wrapped one arm around his son. “Come sit down.” Richard cast a glance over at Tawnie and Michelle. “Please, Michael. Come and sit. We won’t give up yet. We’ll find a way to make this right.”
It wasn’t so much that he didn’t want to do anything further to uncover the truth, but if this truly was a conspiracy, then pushing back would be very dangerous. Richard had no intention of putting his family in harm’s way again.