by David Bell
“What do you remember about that day, Janet? Do you remember talking to me in the park?”
Her mouth twisted a little as she thought. She shook her head. “Not really. It’s fuzzy. I know the police were there. I remember seeing the police cars at the park, more than one of them.”
“But you don’t remember what you said?”
She shook her head. “I’ve read about it in the paper so many times that I know what I said, but I don’t remember saying it.”
“Do you remember talking to us that night? Here at the house?”
“I don’t know. I really don’t. I just remember a lot of people coming and going. I remember feeling empty all the time. Justin was gone, and something wasn’t right. But I can’t look back there and tell you what I was thinking.”
“It was confusing.”
“Yes. I know Michael came over one night and we played together. The adults were in another room, I guess.” Janet smiled, almost laughed.
“Why are you smiling?” Stynes asked.
“Michael.”
“What about him?”
“I cried for him. Not for Justin.”
“What do you mean?”
“I cried because I wanted to see Michael and play with him. I guess my parents didn’t think I needed to be playing or goofing around, you know? I don’t know if that was the first day or later. But somehow Michael ended up coming over to our house and we played together.”
“He was here that night. I remember that.”
“It must have been then. I just remembered that,” she said. “I hadn’t thought of that for a while.” She shook her head a little. “But that’s about it.”
“I heard he’s back in town.”
“Michael?”
“Yes.”
“He is.”
“Have you seen him?” Stynes asked.
“A few times. Why? Do you want to talk to him?”
“It doesn’t matter,” Stynes said. “But if you think of anything else about that day or that time-anything at all-you let me know.”
“It’s funny, Detective,” she said. “I always told myself when I was growing up and then when I left home that I wouldn’t be defined by that day in the park. I saw what it did to my mother, and to a lesser extent my father.”
“Why a lesser extent for him?” Stynes asked.
“He’s a man, I guess. He’s always kept things inside and been hard to reach. But my mother was very open and loving until Justin died. She lost something then, some spark of life.” Janet sighed. “Anyway, I said I wasn’t going to be like them, looking backward all the time. I had a daughter to raise, and I sure as hell wasn’t going to let her get dragged into all of this.”
“Sounds like a good idea,” Stynes said.
“And if it’s such a good idea,” Janet said, “why are we all standing in the same place, in the same town, at the same house, still talking about that day twenty-five years later?”
Chapter Twenty-five
Despite Kevin’s long legs and height advantage, he struggled to keep up with Ashleigh on the way to the Manning house. She no longer felt the aftereffects of the run from the apartment building. Quite the opposite. Both her body and her mind felt renewed in some way, as if energy were shooting through her and lighting up the cells and circuits of her body.
Had she done it? Had she found her uncle?
Could she make everything okay for her family again?
They didn’t speak much on the way. Ashleigh kept her eyes focused on the walk ahead, imagining as they went along the look on her mother’s face when she told her about the man. Even her grandfather, a man who showed no emotion about anything-not even his own dead son-might lose control of himself and be forced to admit that something more than extraordinary had happened.
“Hey,” Kevin said.
Ashleigh kept walking.
“Ash? Hey.”
“What?” she said, stopping.
“Are you sure you want me to go with you?” he asked.
“What?”
“Me,” he said. “Should I tag along here? Your grandpa isn’t exactly a fan of mine, and if he’s been asking if we’re dating-”
“Just come,” she said, starting to walk again. “What do you mean, he’s not a fan of yours?”
“I don’t want him getting pissed at me, you know? Just because you and I have been hanging out.”
“He won’t care.” Ashleigh slowed down and looked at Kevin. “We’re about to tell him his son is still alive. Don’t you think that trumps everything else?”
Kevin nodded, although he didn’t look entirely certain.
Ashleigh tugged on his arm. “Come on.”
Ashleigh’s mind continued to race. Would they all jump in the car and drive to the man’s apartment? No, they couldn’t do that. He was gone. Plus, the creepy manager would be there. Ashleigh decided not to tell her mom about that part of the story. She didn’t want the two things mixed up-the discovery of her uncle’s whereabouts and the pervert groping her. No, they wouldn’t drive right over there. But they’d have to do something, right? Celebrate or something?
What on earth did people do when something like that happened?
Did stuff like that ever happen to anyone else on earth?
Ashleigh saw the house ahead, and slowed her pace a little. She started to reimagine the scenario of telling them, and wondered what would transpire as the weeks passed. What if they did meet the man, and he really was her uncle? What would happen then? Would he move into the house with them? Would he come over for Thanksgiving and Christmas?
Was he even right in the head, wandering around in the middle of the night, knocking on doors and not identifying himself?
“What’s wrong?” Kevin asked.
“Just thinking.”
“They’ll probably just call the police and let them handle it,” he said. “It’ll be okay.”
How did he do that? How did he always read her mind that way?
“Okay,” she said. “Okay.”
They drew closer to her grandfather’s house. Her mom was on the porch, and Kevin said, “Who’s that dude?”
“Where?”
“The one going to his car.”
Ashleigh saw who Kevin was talking about. “It’s Detective Stynes,” she said. “You know?”
“The one who investigated your uncle’s murder?”
“What’s he doing here?” Ashleigh asked. “Do you think he knows about the guy? Do you think they found him?”
“Maybe he came back here,” Kevin said. “Your uncle or whoever he is. Maybe they all know everything.”
But Ashleigh got the feeling that wasn’t the case. Her mom saw her and came down off the porch, a worried look on her face. She looked back and forth between Kevin and Ashleigh, waiting for an explanation.
“What happened?” she said. “I can tell something’s wrong.”
Ashleigh opened her mouth to speak, but then-
Everything caught up to her. The fight with Kevin, the groping by the manager.
The letter with her uncle’s name on it.
And everything else-the weeks of looking for the man. The years of her mom’s unhappiness over her brother’s death.
It was all there-inside Ashleigh’s throat. A giant ball of emotion.
She started to cry.
But Ashleigh didn’t just cry. She heaved, a great outpouring of tears and giant breaths that seemed to come from the deepest center of her being and jolted her entire body with convulsions. Through the scrim of tears, she saw her mother’s face, even more concerned. Scared, even. Her mother looked at Kevin, seeking an explanation.
“What’s wrong?” she kept saying. “What happened?”
Kevin wouldn’t say anything. She knew he wouldn’t. This was her news to share, her prize to bring home. He put his hand on her back and rubbed it gently.
“Ash, it’s okay,” he said. “Tell her. Just tell her.”
“Tell me what?”
And then Ashleigh saw the cop coming over from his car. He must have seen the show she was putting on and decided he couldn’t just walk away from a citizen in distress. But the sobs kept coming, so she tried to talk through them.
“I’m…okay…”
Her mom placed her hands on Ashleigh’s upper arms. “Tell me, honey.”
“I’m okay…It’s…I found…”
“You found?”
She lost control for a minute, then managed some deep breaths, which slowed the pace of her crying. She looked around, saw everyone’s eyes on her, even the cop’s.
“Justin,” Ashleigh said.
“What?” her mom said.
“Justin,” Kevin said. “That’s what she’s talking about.”
“Justin?” her mom said. “What about Justin? Honey, what about Justin?”
Ashleigh swallowed again, another deep breath.
“I found him, Mom. I found Uncle Justin.”
Chapter Twenty-six
Janet guided Ashleigh into the house, followed by Kevin and Detective Stynes. The girl still huffed and hiccupped, but seemed to be on her way to calming down. Ashleigh had cried a lot as a baby, but not much since then. While Janet went to the kitchen to get a glass of water, she tried to remember if she’d ever seen Ashleigh cry so hard.
But she understood. Something big had happened.
Something about Justin.
When Janet returned to the room, her father was there. He must have been down the hall or in the bathroom when they’d first come into the house. He looked like all men look in the presence of a crying female-perplexed, a little lost. Janet handed the glass of water to Ashleigh, who was sitting on the couch alone. The other two men-Kevin and Stynes-weren’t much more help, although Janet could see the concern on both of their faces.
“What’s going on now?” her dad said.
“She found something, Dad. Something about Justin.”
He didn’t say anything. He just looked even more confused.
Ashleigh drank the entire glass of water and took two deep breaths. “I’m okay,” she said. “Really. I’m sorry.” She looked around the room at everybody. “I just kind of lost it for a minute. It’s been a crazy day.”
“It’s okay,” Kevin said. “We don’t care.”
“Why don’t you just tell us what happened, honey?” Janet said. “Start from the beginning. You said you found something out about Justin…”
“I didn’t find something out,” Ashleigh said, her voice, even in this time of great stress, still laced with the contempt only a teenage daughter can have for her mother. “I found him. He’s alive.”
A stillness fell over the room. Janet moved over to the couch and sat down next to Ashleigh. She took the girl’s hand in her own. “Why don’t you tell me about it?”
Ashleigh looked around the room at the other expectant and curious faces. Janet could read her mind-cop, emotionally distant grandfather, friend, and mother. Did she really want to tell the story to this eclectic cast? But Ashleigh had always been a brave girl. Not particularly effusive or outgoing, not always even warm. But she was brave. So Janet watched as her daughter took another deep breath and said, “Remember that guy who came to the door in the middle of the night?”
Janet felt her mouth fall open. “How do you know about that?”
“I saw it. I heard you talking to him, so I came downstairs and saw the whole thing. I looked at him carefully and remembered him.”
“And you found that man?” Janet asked.
“He’s Uncle Justin,” Ashleigh said.
“Hold on a minute,” Stynes said. “I’m a step behind here.”
“Me, too,” her dad said.
And Janet saw the trap she herself had stepped into. In order for Ashleigh to tell her story, Janet was going to have to admit the secret she’d been holding back from the police, in particular Detective Stynes. Rather than let Ashleigh stroll through that minefield alone, Janet stepped forward.
“Okay,” she said. “I think I need to provide a little background about this, before Ashleigh goes on.”
So she did. She told Stynes and her father about the visit in the middle of the night by the man claiming that Justin’s death hadn’t happened the way everyone thought it did. She told them that she’d wanted to call the police, but the man told her not to, so she didn’t.
“Did he threaten you?” Stynes asked.
“No, he didn’t,” Janet said. “I mean, not directly. He may have been coming around the house other times. During the night.”
“During the night?” her dad said.
“Just let me explain,” Janet said.
Janet went on to tell them about the months she’d waited for the man to come back-and that he finally did come back, just a few days ago on campus. But the man refused to say who he was or what he really wanted.
“He just said we knew each other in the past and that he knew something about Justin’s death. Something that no one else knew about the way it happened.” Janet swallowed. She felt the eyes on her, especially Stynes and her dad. “I have to be honest. Ever since that first night he showed up here, I’ve had a…wish, I guess you would call it. No-more than that. A belief is what I think it is.”
“A belief about what?” her dad said.
His voice surprised Janet. It was unlike him to speak up about something so deeply personal in front of people he didn’t really know.
But could she really say he felt anything about Justin deeply? Did he?
She looked at her dad when she spoke. “I’ve started to believe that he is Justin. That Justin is still alive, and he didn’t die in the park that day. And now he’s back.”
Her father simply looked away. He turned his eyes to the floor and didn’t speak.
It was Stynes who filled the quiet space.
“Leaving aside the question, for now, of why your mother didn’t call the police and notify us about this man,” he said, “I’m curious to know how you, Ashleigh, came to believe that this man is your uncle. Did he tell you this?”
“I went to his house-”
“You went to his house?” Janet said.
The gust of fear that swept through Janet in that split second almost forced her to reach out and grab hold of Ashleigh, tuck her into her arms, and hold her tight. Her daughter, out in the world, chasing after a strange man. A man who’d made Janet uneasy in a bright, public place. No matter who he was, the thought of Ashleigh’s exposure to the man, her vulnerability in such close proximity to him-or someone like him-terrified Janet.
But she swallowed the fear, and the impulse to grab her daughter. She listened, her hands clenched in her lap, while Ashleigh told the story of tracing the man through the comic store and the restaurant he worked at to the first apartment complex and then the ratty apartment complex a few miles away.
“He says his name is Steven Kollman,” Ashleigh said. “That’s the name everyone knew him by.”
Stynes looked at Janet. She read the look on his face. Does that name mean anything to you?
Janet’s mind swirled. Did it? Was there familiarity there? Or was it like the man’s face-a place she saw familiarity because she wanted to?
Janet shook her head.
“How did you come to decide this man was your uncle if he used another name?” Stynes asked.
Ashleigh looked over at Kevin. Something passed between them, an unspoken understanding. Kevin nodded his head to Ashleigh. Go ahead, he was telling her. It’s okay.
Janet’s clenched fists grew tighter while Ashleigh spoke of going into the abandoned apartment. She heard the words about the court summons with Justin’s name on it, but when Ashleigh told the next part of her story, the part about the man’s hands on her body-touching her, groping her, assaulting her, for the love of God-Janet felt a sharp pain at the base of her neck. She placed her hand back there and rubbed.
It’s okay, she told herself. You raised a strong girl. You raised a fighter.
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And she did. Janet saw the hint of pride on Ashleigh’s face as she talked about fighting the man off, kicking him, punching him. That’s my girl, Janet wanted to say, but knew it would only embarrass her daughter. But she felt it. That is my girl, the fighter.
“Detective,” Janet said. “I trust that whatever else happens the police will be paying a visit to this pervert’s apartment.”
“Of course,” Stynes said, but he was clearly more interested in Ashleigh’s story about Justin. “You didn’t see anything else? Pictures, other mail? Anything?”
“That’s all. I wish I’d held on to the letter,” Ashleigh said, sounding almost apologetic. “If only I’d kept it.”
“That’s fine, Ashleigh,” Stynes said. “You did fine.”
“I guess that’s why I cried when I walked up here,” Ashleigh said. “I knew I’d found something important.” She looked at Janet, this time without the contempt or averted eyes that were the moody teen’s trademark. “I knew it was important to you, Mom. I was happy and sad at the same time. It was everything all mixed up.”
Janet couldn’t play it cool any longer. The emotion took control of her. She leaned in and took her daughter in her arms, wrapped her up the way she wanted to-not out of fear or anxiety, but out of pure, unadulterated love and appreciation for this girl.
“The detective’s right, Ashleigh,” Janet said. “You did do good. I love you, and I’m glad you’re safe.” She held on. “You’re a sweet, crazy girl.”
“It’s okay, Mom. Jeez.”
But Ashleigh’s voice, even muffled by Janet’s hug, didn’t sound annoyed or exasperated. She took the warmth and let her mom hold her as long as she wanted.
Chapter Twenty-seven
Stynes didn’t know what to think. He had come to the Manning home to investigate a loose end from twenty-five years ago. Why had there been a contradiction between the account of Manning’s whereabouts given by his wife and the account given by Manning himself? Was Bill Manning home that morning or not?
It had come up twenty-five years earlier, as he and Reynolds investigated the case. They had talked about it at length. In the end, Reynolds had told Stynes to let it go, to not worry about a small and understandable contradiction in one person’s story when there was enough evidence to convict someone else, someone much more likely to have committed the crime. Someone the wrong color, Stynes realized…