“Did you and Steven go to church together?”
Her response surprised Nick.
“Oh, yes. We were there every time the doors opened. That’s the way I was raised, and it was more or less an unspoken commitment in our marriage. We never missed, Sunday morning, Sunday night, Wednesday night, Bible studies, you name it. That’s where I met Steven.”
“Did Steven continue going to church after you two split up?”
“I’m pretty sure he did. He changed churches because it was awkward for us. I always considered that kind on his part. But I’m pretty sure he was active at the Cornerstone Baptist Church. You could ask their pastor.” She paused for a moment, then continued. “You know, now that I think of it, I’m sure he must have been active. Are you familiar with that organization called Coalition of Values?”
“Actually, I am,” Nick responded. “The guy who started it lives in Denver.”
“Hmmm, I didn’t know that. I guess Steven had gotten pretty involved in that. The last time I saw him, he went on and on about how important this whole movement was in his life. I don’t know much about it, but I think they’re doing good things.”
Nick’s non-committal grunt led to his next question.
“Coming back around to the pornography. I don’t mean to embarrass you, Ms. Blair, but there was an incident about ten years ago where Steven was arrested for child pornography.”
Her body language should have been everything Nick needed to know, but he was stubbornly headed down this path, and he would not be dissuaded.
“That was awful. I know you’re from Denver, but I guess that got a lot of national coverage. That was a complete mistake. I have to apologize for going back and forth between religion and pornography, but I guess that’s where we are here, I suppose. Sin Haven was where Steven always rented his movies. He told me all about that early in our relationship. I knew he was there that day, and the whole thing was a huge misunderstanding. It was so unfair. And while Steven and I did enjoy a bit of naughty fun, I never saw any indication he might like younger girls. That just wasn’t his thing. He was convicted in the press, along with a bunch of other people. I don’t know if they were guilty or not, but he wasn’t. That whole thing crushed him, and it was very wrong. If you think Steven was into child pornography, he wasn’t. You’re wrong.” She seemed dismissive and mad at the same time.
But Nick would not be dissuaded. In his years as a detective, the cliché “where there’s smoke, there’s fire” pretty much always held. He doubted this case would be different.
Nick clarified some of the contact information and other notes with Cynthia Blair. She was clearly upset over the pedophilia aspect, but Nick couldn’t do anything about that. The door slammed as he left, a clear indication he would not be welcomed again.
As Nick headed to the next interview, his cell phone chirped.
“Lynch,” he answered.
“Goddammit, I told you I never wanted to hear your name again.”
It took a minute to process, then Nick realized it was the Seattle giant. He had to start paying attention to caller ID.
“Jinx, what’s up?” Nick replied cheerfully.
“Listen, asshole, I just got an earful from Cynthia Blair. I told you before, and I’m going to tell you again, this guy was not into all that child porn shit. Let that angle go.”
“This guy went and got himself killed. For all I know, it was somebody from Seattle that did this. You should be as interested in this as I am.”
“Dickwad, you’re not hearing me. I’m about to make your life uncomfortable. Leave this alone. I don’t need to go down this path again. Stop it, you hear me? Goddammit!” Jinx ended the call.
Nick looked at his cell phone as if it would answer in the absence of Jinx. He pondered his choices and continued down the same path.
Saturday ⌁ day 6
Nick arrived home shortly after 2:00 a.m. on a snowy, dark night. It was a heavy, spring snow. Nick loved this. It was quiet and clean. His tracks were the only ones in the snow. While DIA had been slowed by this winter wonder, making his flight over three hours late, the accompanying peacefulness made it worthwhile.
Inside Nick found a similar peace. All the lights were out, the televisions were off, the kitchen was clean. Life was orderly in the Lynch home. That was all Phyllis. Before going to bed, she insisted everything be straightened and buffed, readied for the new day to come. At times, he was irritated by what he considered to be compulsiveness on his wife’s part. Tonight, it pacified him.
He wandered into the kitchen and with the light of the refrigerator fixed himself a midnight snack. He enjoyed Cinnamon Toast Crunch, and to battle his ongoing depression, he treated himself to two large bowls, finishing the box that was half full when he started. Dutifully, Nick recorded the need for additional Cinnamon Toast Crunch on the little refrigerator white board. When Phyllis or he went to the store next, they would take a picture of the shopping list to ensure maximum efficiency. Yep, this is a little anal, he laughed to himself.
As he silently undressed and quietly pulled himself under the covers next to this foreign entity, he mused what had become of his life with Phyllis. When did it get away from them? The current story was that it had everything to do with the death of his daughter, Alisha, three months earlier. He experienced once again the deep sadness of that tragedy. But truth be told, they had drifted far apart many years earlier. It was as if they were on separate lifeboats, one drifting east and one drifting west.
As sleep eluded him, Nick pondered all that had gone wrong. He understood this relationship was damaged and likely irredeemable. He and Phyllis oddly still shared a bed, although solely out of habit – intimacy had long ago exited. He knew Phyllis found solace elsewhere. His was found with Wild Turkey; he knew that had to end.
Life in the Lynch household differed from most others. The Lynches were night people; they liked to stay up late and sleep late. Not to be confused with lazy people, for the most part they slept only six or seven hours a night, many times less depending on how busy they were; they simply started later and ended later than most people. This unconventional approach never set well with Nick’s parents or in-laws, but that was life in their house.
Nick’s first sense as he slowly emerged from a deep sleep was the smell of bacon frying. He uncurled from the mess of sheets, blankets, comforters, and pillows—Nick was a notoriously busy sleeper and unrepentant cover hog—and turned sleepily to look at the clock. 10:15. He decided he deserved one more nap and rolled over. In less than ten minutes, his son and daughter were playfully laying across him.
“C’mon dad, breakfast is ready. I know you’re starving,” Michelle said, laughing.
“We’re having French toast and a ton of bacon,” Nicky added.
They started to tickle him, and he giggled playfully.
“I love you guys,” Nick grinned.
He rolled out of bed fully clothed, in socks, a long sleeve t-shirt, sweat bottoms and top. The Lynch sleeping eccentricity also extended to sleep temperature—anything above about sixty degrees was way too hot. Having become accustomed to the cold of Colorado’s winters, Nick and his family loved to snuggle down into the covers, nestled securely against the chill.
The Lynch home was comfortable. A large stone fireplace, a fire already burning, took center stage in an open living area that included a dining room, kitchen, and breakfast nook. Life in this home was conducted here. Nick stopped to warm himself near the flames. While the rest of the house was still a frigid fifty-eight degrees, it was quickly approaching seventy here. Nick’s heart warmed as well as he looked at his smiling, happy kids, his wife in the kitchen finalizing a massive breakfast, and, for at least a moment in time, a family that was content.
Nicky had understated the feast at hand. The table was covered with enough food for an army, with multiple varieties of cut up fresh fruit, bacon, sausage, eggs cooked with onions and peppers, a mound of French toast made from thick cinnamon raisin
bread, fresh maple syrup, and local honey. Nick sighed happily.
Phyllis sat down, clearly proud of her creation. The four of them dug in silently, hungrily grabbing their favorites. This kind of event occurred in the Lynch family only two or three times a year, and Nick was more likely than Phyllis to be the chef. This was an event to be cherished.
“This is fantastic,” Nick said as he continued to attack the buffet.
“This is fun,” added Michelle.
Phyllis beamed.
“Hey dad, so why were you in Seattle?” Nicky asked.
“I got a new case this week,” he explained, “and some of the leads took me there.”
“Cool,” Nicky replied. Nick and Phyllis did not know what direction Nicky would take in life. At times, he seemed keenly interested in each of his parent’s careers. At other times, he was interested in anything but what they did. Whatever direction he took, Nicky was a good kid. He worked hard in school, he was a good, although not great, athlete who excelled because of his work ethic and team play, he had many friends, and he seemed to enjoy life. Most teenagers were not so well adjusted.
“I thought this was one more simple, cut and dried case,” Phyllis said.
“That’s what we thought. But it turns out there’s quite a bit more to this case than that, and one of the key pieces of evidence led me to Seattle. I ended up talking to the Seattle PD and a number of different folks there. Some were hard to track down, so that’s why I had to be there until late yesterday.” Nick hoped his response would suffice.
He shouldn’t have worried. Michelle changed the subject. “Daddy, I’m going to be in a play!” Michelle started. “It’s about a murder. Will you come see me?”
“A murder?” Nick missed the days when school plays were about cats and unicorns. He missed the days when the kids needed him more. “Of course, sweetheart, I wouldn’t miss it for the world. Tell me all about it.”
“You know I’m taking this speech class this semester.” She stated this as fact, but Nick didn’t know it—one more sign his head was not fully in the game.
“Of course,” he lied.
“One of the reasons I took it is because we get to put on a play. The ninth graders get to do several, but we get to do just one. And I’m the lead female.”
“That’s great, honey. Tell me about the play.”
“We got cast Friday, and we don’t start rehearsals for another week, so I really don’t know too much about it yet. I haven’t read the play yet, but I’m going to start tonight. It’s not too long. I think it only lasts about twenty minutes.”
“I know you’ve always wanted to do this. How did you get the part?” Nick asked.
“Mr. Newton first announced this on Monday, so we didn’t have any time to prepare. We all thought it was going to happen after the holidays. He handed out the different parts, we signed up for the parts we wanted to try out for, and we spent the rest of the week reading for them. I tried for three different ones because I didn’t think I would get the lead. It’s exciting, but honestly I’m sort of scared.”
“That makes sense, honey,” Phyllis said. “I think even the best of actors get nervous before they perform.”
“I think this is really cool, Shelly,” Nicky added, using his nickname for Michelle. Among his other qualities, Nicky loved his younger sister and was extremely proud of her. Although separated by only seventeen months, he was two grades ahead, and in many respects considered it his responsibility to pave the way for her. “I didn’t know you liked stuff like this.”
Michelle was in her element. “I still don’t know if I do, but I think so. That’s one of the reasons I wanted to try this.”
After breakfast, Nick luxuriated in his overstuffed leather easy chair in front of the fire, slowly scrolling the headlines on his phone and watching the Denver Nuggets. After cleaning the kitchen, Nicky and Michelle both left to catch up with friends. Phyllis came in and sat on the matching overstuffed sofa across from Nick.
“Tell me more about Seattle,” Phyllis said. This was not where the conversation was going, and Nick knew it. His answer revealed as much.
“I don’t know. It’s like any investigation, two steps forward and one back.”
“Nick, I’m going to tell you something, and this isn’t going to be easy for you to hear,” she started. “I’m really pissed at you for the whole Seattle thing. I don’t think you had to go. I think you wanted to get even with me for going to Milwaukee.”
Nick knew she was right. How does a relationship devolve to a point where they spend time getting even with each other? There should be some marital rule that intervenes, forcing more mature behavior. It wouldn’t begin today in the Lynch household.
“You know, Phyllis, it’s interesting that you say that,” he again deflected. “Do you think there was something for me to get even about?”
“No,” she replied clinically, “I don’t. But given your reaction when I called you to let you know I had to make that trip, I think you do.”
He was off balance. She was better at this, and he knew it. “What you did was total bullshit, and you know it.” He was going to take his best crack. He was too obstinate to not try, and too compulsive to reference his track record in these arguments and adjust his approach.
“In a relationship,” he continued, “you can’t do that. You had absolutely no consideration for me, for what’s going on in my life, my career. You didn’t call to talk to me, you called to tell me something, to give me directions, to tell me what to do. In a lot of ways, you treat me like I’m the third kid in this house.”
“I didn’t mean to do that to you. You haven’t had a new case in three months. I really didn’t believe this would be an imposition.”
If she was going to ruin this perfect time for him, he decided it was time to have some fun, or at least cause some disruption. He might lose, but she was going to lose, too. What the hell.
“Phyllis, I know you’re having an affair. You were with him in Milwaukee, weren’t you?” He knew she would lie if it were true. But the detective in him also sensed he would know the truth, regardless.
Phyllis stammered, “What are you talking about?” Phyllis stammering was a first.
“I think it’s simple enough,” he replied calmly. Meanness was Phyllis’ strength. He had played her game and would lose resoundingly.
“You know, Nick,” she responded bitingly. “I am really sorry Alisha died. I’m crushed. I loved her with all my heart. They say that a parent should never outlive her children, and it is so true. I will never be the same again.”
She appeared as if she might cry, but then regained her strength and continued bitterly. “But, dammit, I’ve gotten on with my life. I’ve buried myself in my work, it’s true. And you can say whatever you will about that. But you, on the other hand, have buried yourself in a bottle. Your self-pity knows no bounds. Why should I feel bad for you? We both lost our daughter. You’re pathetic. You know it, I know it, everyone you work with knows it. Hell, they feel so sorry for you, they won’t even give you real work. Great job. You have a whole group of followers that have signed up for your pity party. I just don’t happen to be one of them. If I appear a little callous at times with you, tough. I’ve had to deal with this every bit as much as you. You were supposed to be my friend, my partner. You cannot know how much of a disappointment you have been. Not only were you not there for me, you’ve made it harder for me. Dammit Nick, what the fuck do you want from me?”
The verbal diarrhea ended, and Nick struggled to keep the mental toxins from making him ill. The Lakers buried a three. Great, the Nuggets are going to lose another game. He knew he would not look up until long after Phyllis had gone. After minutes passed, Phyllis rose.
“That figures. Why would you deal with this now? No reason to show any maturity or strength, nothing.” Phyllis stomped out of the room and after another Lakers three, he heard the door slam and Phyllis drive off. Nick laid back in the chair wallowing in his s
elf-pity.
Three months earlier, Alisha Angela Lynch never returned home from a party. She was heading back to school to conclude her junior year at Georgetown, having enjoyed one last winter break with her family before adulthood fully set in. She dreamed of a White House or Congressional internship, and it looked likely to happen. An intelligent, ambitious, vibrant, beautiful young woman, she was saddened at the thought of concluding this chapter of her life. This would be her last hurrah in Denver with her high school friends, people she previously thought she would be close to forever. She had looked forward to the New Year’s Eve party with the conflicting emotions of a young person during an important transition period in her life. This winter break would conclude her childhood.
Nick and Phyllis reported her missing at approximately 4:15 p.m. on January 1. After getting up late, Nick and Phyllis were surprised but not overly concerned Alisha had not come home. She was, after all, a mature young woman, and she had been raised to make her own decisions. They knew she considered this her goodbye to her childhood friends. It was not like her to not call or text, however, so Nick tried to reach her on her cell phone. When she did not answer and did not return their messages, Nick and Phyllis became worried. The Find My iPhone app had been disabled, so they could not track her location. They called her friends, finally tracking down Kenny, a good-natured young man attending Harvard and also back for the holidays; he had graduated high school valedictorian, just ahead of Alisha.
“We dropped her off at about two, Mr. Lynch. What do you mean she’s not there?” was Kenny’s response to Nick’s question. Nick’s neck hairs bristled, but he was still determined that Alisha was okay.
“Come again?” Nick replied.
Kenny’s voice became more urgent. “I’m telling you, Mr. Lynch, Glenn and I dropped Alisha off at your house at about two.”
“But Kenny, that doesn’t make any sense. She’s not here.” While Alisha was an incredibly mature nineteen-year-old, she was in some ways still an adolescent. When Nick and Phyllis checked her room, it was a disaster—clothes everywhere and bed unmade. There was no telling whether or not she had returned and left again or never returned.
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