The Passenger

by Jacqueline Druga

  “We look alike?”

  “Oh, no.” She shook her head. “Aside from being thin. It was the lost look in your eyes, the cry for help that seeped from you. And I don’t mean just from the accident.”

  “I know what you mean,” Jonas said. “I get the feeling I wasn’t a very good person.”

  “No. We’re all good people, we just make bad choices. Choices which can cost us dearly. Matt … Matt struggled with choices. He was …” she glanced at Jonas. “Struggling with demons. He liked ‘the drink’, he had his substance issues. Didn’t matter how much we loved him or wanted to help, he did his thing. One night, he argued with us again and took off. That was the last time we heard from him. They found him on a side of a hill near Fremont. He had fallen, broken his femur, and passed out from too much drink and blood loss, died there alone.”

  Jonas closed his eyes. “Oh, Maw-Maw, I am sorry.”

  “It hurts you know. To think of him alone out there. But he’s at peace now. I know it. He’s not fighting those demons anymore.” She squeezed Jonas’ hand. “When you happened upon our town, everyone wanted to help you. I especially wanted to help you. I kept looking at you and thinking, ‘this boy has a mother out there whose heart is broken because she doesn’t know where he is.’ And I made a vow, no matter how angry or nasty you were, for her, you would be fed, clothed, warmed and cared for. You would not be alone.”

  A lump formed in Jonas’ throat. “Thank you.”

  “You have a family out there, Chip, you may not know who you are, but they do. They’ll find you. They love you that much.”

  “Then for their sake, I need to do the right thing. I need to make sure I’m on the right path, because I don’t think I was.”

  “One of those memory feelings?” she asked.

  Jonas nodded. “Yeah. A big one, I’m learning a lot here. I’m scared, I’m scared to find out who I am.”

  “Correction, who you were. You’re scared to find out who you were. I think you’re finding out who you are truly, the only thing you need to remember,” She smiled at him. “Is your name.”

  ◆◆◆

  They came in through the rear entrance of the church. A single glass door that was a back way into her father’s office. Haley didn’t want to walk through the church with a milkshake in her hand. Not when there were nine teenagers waiting on her.

  She set the keys on the bookshelf in her father’s office. “Like I said, Chip, you might want to leave that milkshake here. Those kids will make you feel guilty for having it. They’ll just stare.”

  Jonas laughed. “I’ll leave it here.” He took one more drink and set it on the bookshelf, as well.

  “You sure you want to join teen group today?”

  “What’s the difference between teen group and youth group?”

  “Age. This group is older.” She pulled the office door closed.

  “What are we doing with them?” Jonas asked, walking with her toward the sanctuary. “I mean, what are you doing with them?”

  “Milly is supposed to be here for the sing along, then we talk about scripture that applies to their lives and have pizza.”

  “Ah, Milly is the eighty year old organ player?”

  “That’s right.”

  “They’re going to sing along with an organ player?”

  “Beggars can’t be choosers.” She stepped into the church. The teenagers were sitting in the pews waiting. Bright and almost too bubbly, Haley called out. “Hey everyone, sorry I’m late. I’m surprised you haven’t …” she looked over to the organ. “Milly isn’t here yet either?”

  One of the teen boys answered, “Not yet.”

  “Well, no wonder you haven’t started singing. This …” she waved out her hand. “Is Chip, my friend, he’ll be joining us today. He’s running sound for the contemporary service now. And I thought …” Haley’s head turned at the long ring of a service bell. “That must be the delivery. Chip, can you take over?”

  “What … what am I supposed to do?”

  “I don’t know. Tell them about your accident. I’ll be right back.” She darted off.

  Awkwardly, Jonas faced the group. “Well.”

  A teenage girl raised her hand. “Are you the guy that survived the Broke Man’s curve crash?”

  “I am. Yeah.”

  Another girl raised her hand. “I heard Jesus was in the car with you.”

  “There was someone in the car with me.”

  Another spoke up, “So, you’re saying you don’t believe God was in the car with you?”

  “That’s not what I’m saying, I am just …” Jonas looked around and he froze when he saw the acoustic guitar on the stand. The guitar player must have dropped it off ahead of rehearsal. Instantly, Jonas wondered why he would do that. He was drawn to it and walked over.

  “Do you play?” someone asked.

  “I don’t know. I don’t remember much about myself.” He lifted it. The moment he slung the strap over his head and the neck of the instrument rested in his left hand, it felt right.

  Natural.

  Without even thinking about it, without knowing why or how he would know to do it, Jonas immediately checked the tuning of the guitar. He pressed the low E string on the fifth fret, matching it to the open A string, repeating to make sure the tones matched up. He did it quickly, because the guitar was in tune and Jonas strummed a chord to finish.

  “I guess I do,” he said and smiled. “How about that?”

  “Play something.”

  He couldn’t think of a single song he knew, if fact he wouldn’t know the chords or did he? Jonas just started playing. “I’m supposed to tell you about my accident ... somehow, I know this song. I don’t think I wrote it.” He joked. “Let’s see how this goes.”

  “Right there, thank you,” Haley instructed the delivery driver on where to place the box. She had him set it right inside her Father’s office. She snuck a sip of her shake, set it down and took the clipboard he handed to her. “I appreciate you carrying them in.”

  “Sure, no problem.”

  She scribbled her signature under the ‘received line’ and as she handed it back to the driver, she caught the sound of music.

  A guitar playing.

  Singing.

  The singing was soft and the bounce from the empty church added an effect that made who was singing and what hard to determine.

  Her hand was paused in the middle of returning of the clipboard.

  “Haley, are you okay?” he asked,

  “Yes. Sorry.” She released it. “I wasn’t expecting music.”

  “Sounds good. Love that song. Never heard a guy sing it.”

  Haley was slightly dumbfounded. The delivery driver had great ears or something, but it took until he walked to the door and Haley closed the office until she heard it.

  She inched closer to the church staying in the hall. She had an inkling of who it was, but she had to look. The words were modified, she recognized the song.

  I was so scared, he sang, I threw my hands up in the air …

  Not wanting to be seen, she peeked in.

  Jesus take the wheel ...

  Chip.

  He stood on the stage where the contemporary band played, acoustic guitar in hand. He stood strumming, moving slightly in a pace, while singing. The teens from the group filed on stage, sitting down to watch.

  It took her breath away, stumbling her back into the wall in shock.

  I’m letting go, give me one more chance …

  It wasn’t the surprise of him playing or singing, somehow, a part of her expected that. But to hear him not only playing and singing with emotions, but him showing those emotions was astonishing.

  Keep going, she thought. I want to hear more.

  He had to be on autopilot, he was obviously moved to play by some feeling inside of him.

  For as much as she was in the moment, she was pulled out of it with the chattering voices of her father and the chief as they entered the hall.


  “Haley, guess what the Chief got …”

  “Shh.” She hushed him, crinkling her face.

  At first her father was confused by her request, then his eyes widened, and he whispered as he pointed with surprise. “Is that Chip?”

  “Yes.” She nodded. “Listen to him. Look at him.”

  “Oh … wow.”

  Haley’s head swayed side by side, eyes closed as she listened.

  I know I have to change. From now on tonight …

  As soon as he blasted again into the chorus, her hand went to her heart and the other lifted in praise.

  “What a gift,” Pastor Rick said. “What a gift he didn’t know he had.”

  “It’s unreal. It’s what we need and are missing.”

  “No, Haley,” Her father placed his hand on her back. “It’s what he needed and was missing. Wow, we are learning something new about him every day.” He looked back at Russ. “Don’t we, Chief?”

  “Yeah.” The chief had his phone pulled out and he was looking down to it. “Yeah, we do.”

  SEVENTEEN

  The apartment was a mess, not that Grant expected Jonas’ place to be any different. A studio style apartment, one of probably ten that were above a huge collectible store.

  Clothes were strewn everywhere, dishes in the sink and on the coffee table. Empty little foil seasoning packets from Ramen noodles were all over the place.

  The fact that it had been so long since the garbage had been taken out or the pizza boxes tossed, caused a moldy smell in the place.

  Even with all the clutter, it felt empty.

  Grant went for his run and ended up there.

  Immediately upon entering, he started cleaning up, tossing clothes in a bag so he could launder them. He used a pine cleaner to give it a fresh scent and did the best he could with a broom. Jonas didn’t have a vacuum.

  He was overwrought with worry and sadness, he needed answers. It had been two weeks since he saw his son, spoke to him or heard from him.

  This was different than the last time Jonas disappeared.

  When it happened before, Cate went immediately to the police. They told her to wait seventy-two hours. Sure enough, even though they hadn’t heard from him, Grant was able to see his phone was used because he was on their plan. Jessie said he was posting on social media and the gas credit card Grant had given him ‘just in case’ ended up being used as well.

  Within a week they heard from him.

  He called it a party train, but it was really an eight day bender.

  Now Jonas’ phone hadn’t made a call or sent a text since before his gig. The gas card … untouched.

  Were there even answers to get? Wouldn’t they have them already? Grant didn’t feel confident the police were giving their all looking for him. They had other things they deemed more important and Grant understood that.

  Jonas’ laptop was on the coffee table, the battery had long since died and Grant plugged it in. He watched it boot up then entered the password. Grant knew what it was because he gave that laptop to Jonas.

  Grant opened up the internet browser. Perhaps looking at his sons’ browsing history would give him a clue, then he saw the bank icon under frequently visited.

  He hadn’t used the gas card, was he spending money with his debit? Grant clicked on the link to the bank. The login information was saved and Grant hit ‘sign in’.

  Jonas had a low balance of forty-three dollars and the only recent activity was an automatic deduction for a streaming service.

  He scrolled down, prior to that was an ATM withdrawal on the day he last saw Jonas and the only other transactions that day was before the withdraw and that was a Money Match transfer from Catherine Truett.

  Money Match was a way Cate had sent Jonas money when he needed it through an app. Grant had no idea how often she was transferring money to him. It seemed like every couple days, which also coincided with a trip to the store. Grant was willing to bet it wasn’t all for groceries.

  He closed the bank site and then hit Jonas’ social media. Again, he was able to log in with the saved password.

  Jonas’ screen name was Jupiter Tee, with a skull and guitar tattoo as a profile picture. There were pictures of Jonas at gigs, at bars drinking with friends. Grant searched for the last time Jonas had posted and it had been weeks. Others had posted on his page.

  Dude, where you been?

  Get together at Patsy’s for Jonas June 30th. A good party may bring him out.

  Grant hesitated. His fingers hovering the keyboard, then finally he started to type, and he posted on Jonas’ wall.

  This is Jonas/Jupiter’s dad, Grant Truett. If anyone hears or sees my son, please let the family know. We are deeply concerned and want him safe.

  Click – Post.

  Without exiting the site or the browser, Grant closed the laptop, sighed out, bringing his hands to his face. He turned when he heard the door open. For a brief second, he thought it was Jonas and his heart skipped a beat.

  Cate walked in.

  “Hey,” Grant said.

  “Hey.” She closed the door. “You stood me up at Sandy’s. I went to church, came home, you weren’t there. I thought maybe you went ahead to the restaurant. I was wrong. All these years of going there you’ve never stood me up.”

  “I’m sorry. I am. I lost track of time.”

  “Cleaning, I see.” Cate set down her purse and walked over to him, sitting next to him on the couch. “I popped by the other day. Just, you know, to see.”

  “You didn’t say anything.”

  “No, I didn’t.”

  “How’d you know I was here?” Grant asked.

  “A hunch. I remember the last time Jonas went missing, I came here daily. Each time hoping to find him sleeping.”

  “When he came home, he acted like nothing was wrong.”

  “I know,” Cate said. “I was so relieved to see him, I couldn’t get mad. I had it in my mind he was dead. At least you know those first couple days.”

  “I know that feeling now.” Grant rubbed his hands together. “It’s been two weeks. Two weeks. He hasn’t used the phone or his debit card. People are posting on his social media looking for him. They’re having a party next Saturday hoping to draw him out. It’s like a memorial and it’s killing me.” Grant abruptly stood and started to pace. “This whole thing … is killing me. It’s like our kid is missing, but because he’s bad news or an addict, he ranks low on the importance scale.”

  “I don’t think that’s it. It's just the last time I spoke to the detective they still have no evidence to point to foul play.”

  “People don’t just vanish, Cate.”

  “Yeah, they do. Always a reason, sometimes it’s never known.”

  “How!?” He raised his voice. “Can you be so calm?”

  “Because you’re not. And I just can’t do this anymore, Grant. I love Jonas, I love him with every ounce of my soul, but I can’t do this anymore. What you’re feeling, how you’re acting has been me. Every day, worse on Saturdays for the last four years. You know, this right now, is out of our control. There’s nothing we can do. But wait.”

  “No.” Grant shook his head. “I can’t. Something is pulling me, and I just can’t. Tuesday is my last day of class before my leave, then I’m packing the truck and taking off.”

  “I thought you weren’t doing that,” Cate said. “You haven’t said anything in a week.”

  “Yeah, well, you and I haven’t been talking much.”

  “What are you going to do, Grant? Just ... go out there and look. Look where? How?”

  “I’m retracing his steps that night and go from there. I don’t care, I’m doing this,” Grant said. “I will find our son.”

  ◆◆◆

  Doctor Jenner sat in his office at the hospital, staring at a sheet of paper, while Russ watched him as if waiting for some specific reaction.

  “Why am I looking at a picture of a guitar?” Doctor Jenner asked.

&n
bsp; Russ set his mug on the desk.

  “Ah.” Jenner shifted his eyes from the mug to the picture. “The patterns are a dead ringer for each other.”

  “They are.”

  “Are you thinking of getting this guitar? I thought you hated that mug.”

  “I do. And I came to ask your opinion. When Chip saw this mug last week, he said the pattern looked very familiar. I was at Guitar World and that guitar was on sale. It was brought into the store to pawn.”

  “And you think this is Chip’s?”

  “I don’t know. A week ago, I wouldn’t have thought twice about it. But the kid’s memory is creeping back. He gardens, knows about mixing sound, and plays the guitar really well.”

  “Did you ask Chip about it?”

  Russ shook his head. “I will when I have more of the facts.”

  “What’s the guitar store telling you?” Doctor Jenner asked.

  “Not much. The manager confirmed only that it wasn’t our Chip that brought it in. He wass being kind of a hard nose. I get it. There are laws regarding pawning. I have to get a court order in that jurisdiction,” Russ said. “Shouldn’t be hard since we are dealing with a John Doe case. But I won’t be able to try until Monday.”

  “You’re really looking into this?”

  “I have a hunch this guitar will help his identity. Just a hunch.”

  “Yes, but if this is his guitar, how does the guitar of a kid from Kansas or Missouri end up in a Nebraskan Guitar World?”

  “May he sold it to someone before the accident? I just don’t think Chip was as clean cut as he looks to be now.”

  Doctor Jenner nodded. “Reminds me of the Baker boy.”

  “Exactly.”

  “He could have had the guitar on him. I mean middle of the night,” Jenner said. “Maybe playing in his band. It could have gotten thrown from the car. Maybe we didn’t see it, and someone found it days later.”

  “Or that night.”

  “Like one of our EMS workers?” Jenner asked.

  “More like … the passenger.”

  Jenner leaned back and breathed out heavily.

  “What? You don’t think that?” Russ asked.