Never Coming Home

by A.R. Wise

  Chapter Two

  Lincoln popped a breath mint in his mouth and then knocked on the door of his daughter’s apartment. He bit into the mint and was checking his breath when the door opened.

  “Hey dad.” Darcy answered in a hurry and turned her back to her father as she headed to the kitchen. There was a juicer on the counter and a slew of vegetables beside a glass of green, pulpy liquid.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked.

  Lincoln entered and closed the door behind him. “I just wanted to check in on you.”

  His daughter smirked and said, “Between you and mom dropping in on me every few minutes, it’s like I never moved out. Do you want a juice? I can make another.”

  “No thanks, that looks like the Jolly Green Giant’s Hershey squirts.”

  Darcy paused while holding the glass and gave her father a disgusted sneer. “Thanks for that, Dad.” She set the drink back down on the counter without taking a sip. “Did you come over just to make me lose my appetite?”

  Lincoln walked over to the couch in his daughter’s modest apartment and looked at the variety of exercise magazines that littered the coffee table. Darcy had fallen into the cult of exercise, a victim of self-improvement like her mother before her. She was fit and trim, with ceaseless energy that kept her moving at all times. She was a stark contrast to the sick little girl who’d spent the majority of her childhood in and out of hospital beds.

  “I missed you. That’s all.”

  Darcy eyed him suspiciously. “And it has nothing to do with me skipping the cancer resource meeting?” She guessed correctly.

  “Mark called,” said Lincoln. “He was worried about you.”

  “Tell him I’m fine. Never better.” Darcy took a drink of her juice and then slipped a pill between her lips. She cringed as she swallowed. She never had an easy time taking medicine. Lincoln used to have to hide the pills in her food. The familiar orange prescription bottles were at the back of the kitchen counter, a grim reminder of his daughter’s ongoing battle. “I couldn’t get out of work. I promise to be there next week.”

  Lincoln decided to change the subject, and glanced over at the guitar in the corner of the living room. “How’s the band doing?”

  “Better than ever, actually,” said Darcy. “We’re going to be finishing our EP soon.”

  “Are you sticking with the name?”

  “Yes,” said Darcy, annoyed that he was still intent on convincing her to change the name of the band. “Everyone likes it but you.”

  “It’s not that I don’t like it,” said Lincoln as he looked at the logo of her band plastered on the face of the guitar. ‘The Murder Betties’ was an all-female rock group comprised of Darcy and some of her friends. “I just think it’s morbid.”

  “Most people don’t know where the name came from,” said Darcy. “It’s like Pearl Jam, or Led Zeppelin. Who knows where they got their names? And the more awareness we can bring to the case the better. Maybe if they ever find out what really happened to Betty, we’ll change our name.”

  Lincoln pointed to a poster that Darcy had framed on the wall. It was from the first show that they headlined at a local bar, and featured a milk jug with a missing person notification on the side for Betty Kline, a reference to the real life disappearance of one of Darcy’s former schoolmates. “You don’t think that’s a little morbid, all things considered?”

  “That’s an old poster,” said Darcy. “We don’t use that anymore. Don’t worry, Dad, we’re being respectful and everything.”

  “I still wish you’d change the name. Every time I hear it I think about that poor family.”

  “Then become a private investigator like you always said you would and go solve the crime,” she joked. “Because until they find out who really killed Betty, we’re keeping the name.”

  “If I did that could I get you to come hang out with me from time to time? It feels like I never see you these days.”

  Darcy groaned and rolled her eyes as she drank some of her putrid juice concoction. She glanced at the clock on the microwave and then made a gulping sound before wiping her lips and setting her glass back down on the counter. “It’s getting late. You should probably go.”

  “Why?” asked Lincoln. “Expecting a boy to come over?”

  “Not exactly,” said Darcy, cagey as she grabbed a rolled up yoga mat from beside the couch and set it on the counter by her purse.

  “Are you late to something?”

  “Sort of.” She paused and looked apologetically over at her father. “You should probably leave. Mom’s coming to pick me up soon. We’re going to yoga together down at the Rec Center.”

  “Oh, okay,” said Lincoln, crestfallen. “You’re right. I’m the last person your mother wants to see. How’s she doing these days?”

  “Good, I guess. Nothing new to report.”

  “Is she still seeing that bald lawyer?”

  “Gabe? No. At least I don’t think so. He moved out to Colorado Springs.”

  “Good riddance,” said Lincoln as he twirled his car keys around his index finger. “That guy was a slimeball.”

  “No he wasn’t, Dad. He was nice. He was good to Mom.”

  “If I didn’t teach you to never trust a lawyer, then I did you a disservice, kid, and I’m sorry for that.”

  Darcy looked over at her father with an exasperated frown and then pointed at the clock on the microwave. “You’d better leave unless you want to talk to Mom.”

  Lincoln held up his hands and dipped his chin in retreat. “You’re right. I’m leaving. How about a kiss first?”

  Darcy went over to her father and hugged him before pecking his cheek. “I’ll see you soon. And if you talk to Mark, tell him I’ll see him at the next meeting for sure. Oh, and Dad, the trick is to take the breath mint right after leaving the bar instead of waiting till the last second. You smell like Peppermint Schnapps.”

  “Good to know,” said Lincoln, chagrined. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  Lincoln closed the door and stepped back out onto the concrete landing that led to the stairs. Darcy’s apartment complex was near the college, and most of the tenants were students, as evidenced by the plethora of football logos plastered on windows and balconies around him. He’d been against the idea of Darcy getting her own place, but his ex-wife had convinced him it was the right move. Darcy needed to go on with her life, and step away from the protective shell her parents had built around her.

  He walked briskly down the concrete stairs, twirling the keys to his Mercedes as he went. Darcy’s apartment looked out onto a pond, and Lincoln decided to drive around to the other side and park again, facing the stairs that he’d just come down. He was listening to Muddy Waters as he waited, and watched as a pair of ducks waddled their way into the water and splashed around, dunking their heads and then shaking themselves dry.

  Ellen arrived, oblivious to the spying eyes of her ex-husband across the pond. She was wearing an exercise outfit, with a tight crop top and pants that revealed everything anyone ever needed to know about the shape of her lower half. Her long blonde hair was tied in a ponytail, and her skin was tanner than Lincoln remembered. Despite what he might’ve secretly hoped, she looked good. Divorce suited her just fine.

  He watched her jog quickly up the stairs, taking them one at a time as if the climb was part of an exercise routine. Darcy answered the door, and then they both went back down to the car, laughing about something Lincoln wasn’t privy to. He ducked lower in his seat, afraid they might see him as they got into Ellen’s car. Soon they were gone, leaving him alone to watch the ducks splash around in the pond.

  “Where to next?” Lincoln asked himself before starting the car. He wasn’t sure where to go, and lingered in the parking lot for a while longer, listening to Muddy Waters as he tried not to think about his ex-wife.