by Rob Cornell
The cabbie bleated his horn once more. I blinked the moisture out of my eyes.
“Not yet.”
“Good,” she said, then picked up her bags and waddled to the taxi.
The cabbie accelerated too quickly on the way out. His tires kicked up a dust cloud that drifted all the way to the porch. I stood in the cloud and wondered if I would ever see Sheila again.
Chapter 20
I went home, showered, put gel in my hair, dug out my only dress shirt, my only tie, and my only sport coat, and dressed in front of the full-sized mirror in the bathroom, not out of vanity, but because I felt awkward putting on anything more complicated than a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. I needed to see what I was doing.
It took me three tries before I got the tie right.
An hour later, I arrived at the Rabson, confident no one had followed me. When I knocked on the door to the business suite on the twelfth floor, Lincoln answered.
He had the sleeves of his dress shirt rolled up, and while he wore dress slacks, his feet were bare. He looked over my own attire with furrowed brow, probably a little surprised I was better dressed than him for once.
“I’m here for Autumn,” I said. “I want to take her out.”
“Take her out? Is that really such a good idea?”
“I think she could use the break.” I glanced over his shoulder into the suite. The door fed directly into a spacious common room decked out in lots of warm colors to give it a homey feel for the weary business traveler. I saw no sign of Autumn except for a silk robe draped over one arm of a couch. “Besides, she and I need to go over a few things I missed.”
He studied my face. I wondered if he noticed the newest black and blue additions.
“I’d rather she stay close to me,” he said.
“You want your daughter off the hook? Then trust me to do what I need to do.”
Autumn entered the common room from somewhere off to the right, out of my line of sight, wearing only a pair of jeans and a bra. She brushed her wet hair while she circled the room as if looking for something, unaware of us at the open door.
“Daddy, where did you put …”
She finally spotted us, dropped the brush, and wrapped her arms across her chest. Her wide eyes took in my attire.
“Get dressed,” I said. “We’re going out.”
“Where are we going?” Autumn asked once in the car.
Apparently, her father had bought her a new wardrobe and had it delivered to the hotel. She had on a black dress with spaghetti straps, and wore her hair up, something I had never seen because her hair had been too short back in high school. She even had a pair of simple diamond earrings and a thin silver bracelet. Daddy sure took care of his daughter. His arrangements made my parents’ cabin look like a roach motel.
“Some place quiet,” I said.
I expected her to comment on my tie, but neither of us spoke until we reached Garfield Park.
A blacktopped road circled the park, with smaller roads feeding into various sections like spokes. I took the first left and pulled into an empty parking area. While it still hadn’t rained yet, the dark clouds had gathered again, probably scaring off any park-goers to more sheltered recreation. With the overcast sky, evening had turned into night.
I hadn’t worn a tie in almost twenty years. The second I put the car in park, I tugged at the knot, letting my neck breathe for a second.
Autumn sat quietly in the passenger seat, staring ahead through the windshield. She twisted her wedding ring around on her finger, but otherwise sat still.
Garfield Park stretched out before us, much of it covered with shadows in the premature night. To the left, a massive plastic and metal structure with swings, slides, and monkey bars cast its own unnatural shadow.
“So what’s with the tie?” Autumn finally asked.
“Can’t a guy spruce himself up?”
“You don’t spruce. You’ve never spruced.”
“People change. Fifteen years is plenty of time for a guy to get vain. It’s long enough for a lot of things.”
I looked at her.
She stared ahead when she spoke. “How come I have this ‘I’m about to get a lecture’ feeling?”
“No lecture’s planned.”
She turned to me, almost smiled. Even an almost was enough to make my lungs feel vacuum sealed.
“So is this a date?” she asked.
I took a second to make myself breathe, and sucked in the strong cologne I had bought at Walgreen’s on the way to the hotel. I leaned forward and pressed the play button on the CD player. The first strains of some Al Green rolled from the speakers.
After only five bars Autumn stabbed the stop button.
“No,” she said. “This isn’t right.”
“Because of Doug?”
“Because you’re wearing a tie. Ridley, you never wear a tie.”
“What has my tie got to do with anything?”
“You’re not being yourself, and it’s weird.” Autumn glared out the passenger window, arms crossed. “Why are you playing games with me?”
“I’m not.”
“This is a game. A dirty game at that. What do you want?”
Humidity thickened the air in the car, making my tie feel that much tighter around my neck. I cracked the window.
“I just wanted a quiet place to talk.”
“You honestly thought you’d loosen me up with mood music and a walk through the park?”
I surprised myself by how easily the lie came. “That’s not why I brought you here.”
“Prove it.”
“Prove it how?”
She turned to me and slipped her spaghetti straps off her shoulders. She traced a line down one side of her bare neck with her fingertips, head titled. “Kiss me right here.” Then she reached across herself and drew a tiny circle with a finger on her naked shoulder. “And here.”
I suffered the typical male physical reaction on the outside. But the triggers inside of me went off as well. I clung to the steering wheel to keep myself chaste.
“Can’t we just talk?”
“Now I know you’re lying.” She pulled her dress straps back onto her shoulders. “You son of a bitch.”
“Another person is dead,” I said, dropping the ruse. “I need to ask you some questions.”
“Then ask. Don’t treat me like a Bond girl. And just so you know, Bond fucked the girls before he pumped them for information.”
“I’m not pumping you—”
“I noticed!”
I punched the steering wheel, accidentally blowing the horn. “Your husband’s been dead less than a week. You’re still wearing your wedding ring.”
“That didn’t stop you the first time.”
“Is that why you hired me? ‘Cause you knew I’d be an easy fuck if it turned out Doug had his hand in some other girl’s panties?”
Autumn’s face turned red.
“You know who you sound like?” And I did, even before she said, “Tom.”
“Maybe Tom was right.”
Autumn threw open her door, letting in a gust of moist air. Her hair fluttered across her face. I could hear the wind rattling the leaves on the trees.
“I’m tired of you not trusting me,” she said and climbed out of the car.
“You gave me every reason not to,” I shouted before she slammed the door.
I got out as she stalked off toward the playground. I jogged up behind her, grabbed at her elbow.
Autumn jerked away, but I trudged alongside her.
“It’s been there all along,” I said. “Sitting between us in plain sight, but I’ve ignored it.”
“Don’t,” she said, pulling her hair back, only to have it fly in her face when she let go. “Leave me alone.”
“It’s going to rain.”
“I don’t care.”
“And you don’t care that someone else is dead.”
“Go away.”
She picked up speed, and I pa
ced her. A spatter of rain fell, melting some of the gel in my hair.
We reached the gravel patch around the playground structure. Spots of the gravel turned darker as the rain wet the stones. Autumn sat on one of the swings. She gripped the chains on either side of her and dug her heels into the gravel.
I stood a few feet behind her. “Did you recognize that woman with Doug in the pictures?”
She turned her head to the side, showing me her profile.
“I’ve never seen her before in my life.”
“Are you sure?”
“Just tell me what you’re getting at.”
“I don’t know. What am I missing?”
“Nothing. I’ve told you everything about Tom, about Dixie… everything!”
I thought about what Sheila had said, about going back to the beginning, and decided to trust her advice.
“Not everything.”
I stepped around Autumn so I could see her face. She looked up at me from the swing.
“Why did you come to me?”
“Because I knew you, because I trusted you.”
I shook my head. “There’s more to it than that.”
“What do you want me to say?”
“Tell me the truth.”
She stood, moved up against me, her body warm despite the chill wind and the occasional cold droplets from the sky. She pressed her lips together. She tugged on my tie. “Don’t do this.”
“This has to do with us, doesn’t it? About why you left?”
“I never left,” she said. “You left. I shut down for a while. I needed time.”
“You could have told me that.”
As if someone had thrown a switch, rain poured down full force, drenching both of us. A last hint of twilight illuminated Autumn’s face and the water dripping off the tip of her nose, her chin, and running in rivulets down her bare shoulders.
“You would have wanted to know why.”
“You could have told me that, too.”
“No,” she said. “I couldn’t. I can’t. I never will.”
She walked off, leaving me by the dangling swings.
“Autumn!”
My jacket grew heavy, soaked through by the rain. I slipped it off my shoulders and let it drop to the ground. I yanked wide the loop of my tie, twisted free my shirt’s collar button, and went after her.
When I reached her, she spun toward me and pressed her mouth against mine. I grabbed her arms, knowing I should push her away, but pressed my tongue between her lips instead.
She pulled back and tugged me toward the ground, then straddled me while I lay on my back.
Rain pattered down on my face. The back of my head sank into the wet grass, its earthy scent all around me.
“No,” I whispered. Then, with the full weight of my voice, “Stop.”
Autumn ignored me, flipping open my belt and dragging my shirttails out from my pants.
I gripped her wrists and lifted them away.
“You have to tell me.”
Her wet hair had fallen loose and dangled around her face. “I don’t have to tell you anything.”
“Then I can’t help you,” I said. “I’m done.”
She smiled, if you could call it that. The expression looked so forced her face resembled a wax mask that could melt in the rain.
“It’s too late anyway.”
“No it isn’t.”
“You don’t even know what you’re talking about. Fifteen years, Ridley.”
“So what? Are you so different, so horrible? I already know about Dixie and all that. But I’m still here. You think one more thing is going to change how I feel about you?”
“It will.”
“Good,” I shouted and rolled sideways, throwing Autumn off of me. “Tell me something that will make me stop feeling this way. Fifteen years on the other side of the country didn’t do it. If you’re so fucking smart, if you’ve got the key, then hand it over. I want this to end. I’m sick of loving a girl I should have gotten over three days after she stopped talking to me.”
“Fifteen years,” Autumn repeated and titled her head back. She opened her mouth as if to taste the rain. “She’s fifteen years old.”
I rose to my knees. The soggy ground gave under my weight, and I sunk an inch.
“What?”
“Your daughter,” she said. “She’s changed the most. Once upon a time she was a little baby. Now she’s a teenager somewhere, going to school, talking about boys, listening to bad pop music.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” I asked, but the question was more of a denial. I knew.
“Your daughter.” She threw a hand out, gesturing beyond the park. “Out there somewhere. Our daughter. The big secret.”
I tried to stand. My legs had other plans, and I flopped to my side in the mud, splashing the side of my face. I could taste a bit of gritty earth at the corner of my mouth.
I have a daughter.
Autumn stared blankly out at the park’s shadows.
“You see what you’ve done? This had nothing to do with Doug.” Her gaze slowly moved to me. “But you had to know.”
Chapter 21
I blinked at her a few times. I couldn’t feel my face. My tie seemed to choke me, until I reached for it and realized I’d loosened it a while ago. Unbuttoning the second button on my shirt did nothing to release the phantom loop around my neck that kept squeezing and squeezing.
“Where is she?”
“I don’t know.”
“How can you not know?”
“I gave her up.”
My detective mind raced through possible options for tracking her. “We’ll go to the adoption agency.”
“We can’t.”
I forced myself to stand, though the rain felt so heavy. I helped Autumn up, held her by her arms.
“We can. Even if it’s a closed file. I’m a detective. This is what I do.”
“He won’t let us.”
A bitterness rolled over my tongue.
“Your father,” I said. “He’s the one that kept you from me. Forced you to keep it secret. It was him all along.”
“You don’t understand.”
“I understand just fine. Did he ship you off to Europe or something until you gave birth?”
“He took me up north, to a doctor. It was a long time ago. I was scared. I don’t remember much.”
“That fucking bastard.”
“He was trying to protect me.”
“How is that protecting you? And what gives him the right to keep this from me? She’s my daughter.”
I stalked back toward the parking lot. I wanted to race right over to the Rabson and get Lincoln’s throat in my hands as quickly as possible. I forgot about everything else, focused only on what it would feel like when the cartilage in Lincoln’s nose crunched against my knuckles.
Autumn tugged at my arm. “I never wanted to tell you. I knew… I knew you’d be like this.”
I shoved her off. “How else am I supposed to be? All this time …” My throat closed. I swallowed down the lump and kept walking.
“I wanted an abortion,” she shouted at my back.
I stopped, turned.
“He wouldn’t let me. He said it would haunt me for the rest of my life if I killed my baby. So he was protecting her, too.”
“Both of you are fucked in the head.”
“Oh, and you’re so normal—the guy who left his mother and father because they made him sing. Everything’s real nice and orderly in your head.”
“You don’t know a damn thing about me.”
Autumn pulled her shoulders back and raised her chin. “You think you know me?”
That was it, wasn’t it? I didn’t know anybody anymore. Maybe I never had. I hadn’t known Autumn was a criminal, that Sheila was an alcoholic, that my parents were political activists alongside the likes of Lincoln Rice. Even innocent little Devon, with his secret desire to learn how to sing, had a side to him I never suspected.<
br />
“You’re right,” I said. “I don’t know you. I probably never really did. And I don’t want to anymore.”
By the time I reached the car, the rain had let up some. Only after I started the engine did I realize I’d left my only suit jacket on the playground. So what? I was a millionaire now. I could buy another.
Autumn stepped into the path of my headlights and stared through the windshield at me. I backed out and drove off, leaving Autumn in the rain.
I heard her shout something.
I drove all the way to the park entrance and stopped. She deserved to stand in the rain. Her father might have sworn her to secrecy about her pregnancy, but she could have told me anyway. I never would have left if I’d known. She was as guilty as he was. But I wanted her with me when I confronted her father. To do this right, she had to be there.
I U-turned and drove back. She stood right where I had left her.
I reached across the passenger seat and pushed open the door. “Get in,” I yelled.
She drew her wet hair back with both hands, then stalked to the car, got in, and slammed the door.
Shadows rolled over us as I drove past streetlights and lit storefronts on the way to the Rabson. From the corner of my eye I watched swatches of darkness slide over Autumn’s face.
I couldn’t shake this tangled sensation in my stomach. I felt like I had missed something, or had left something more than my coat at the park. I tried to ignore the feeling and focus on the coming showdown with Lincoln.
“We’ll both talk to your father when we get to the hotel,” I said.
Autumn flinched at the sound of my voice.
“I don’t care what sort of guilt complex he foisted on you to keep you from talking. He’s going to tell me everything, and you are going to help.”
“Ridley, he’ll—”
“Let him try. Whatever you think he’ll do, let him fucking try it with me.”
Autumn sagged in her seat.
I didn’t wait for her to get out of the car when we reached the hotel. I stormed right in, got snagged waiting for the elevator, glanced toward the stairs, but didn’t want to waste my energy climbing twelve flights.