by Willow Rose
Already, this detective, Reed, looks at me like he thinks I’m rambling.
“Who does this?” he asks. “What do you mean?”
“He makes it look like suicide,” I say, trying anyway, even though I know it’s no use.
A frown grows between detective Reed’s otherwise friendly eyes. “So, you’re saying this has happened before?”
I can tell he’s exchanging a look with another officer who is taking pictures of the scene. I know that look. I don’t want to stay here anymore. I want to leave. I am broken to pieces. I have called my mom and asked her to pick up the kids at school today. I told her I’d have to explain later. She could tell I was in shock, so she naturally asked me if I was okay. I am not, I told her. Then I broke down and cried.
“Yes,” I answer. “Something similar. Not the same.”
“And how do you know this?”
I tell him everything anyway, just in case. As I do, he nods along like he knows what I am talking about.
“I think I read about this in the paper,” he says.
I stare at him, wondering if he is actually taking me seriously. He seems to be.
“Yeah, I did,” he says. “There were a lot of unanswered questions. But it’s on Air Force grounds, so the cases are investigated by their people. I think they reopened some of the cases, though. I’ll call and have a chat with them. Now, what can you tell me about the car this guy drove?”
“It was a truck. A big blue truck.”
As I say the words, it occurs to me that Ryan’s truck is black, and when I think about it, it didn’t look like his at all. This one was only a two-seater; Ryan’s is a four-seater. But I think I have seen this truck before. I just can’t recall where. It’s not until the detective leaves me to talk to someone else, and I spot something on the ground that I fully realize whose truck this is.
The very thought causes my blood to freeze.
They tell me to go home. They tell me to get some rest, and then they’ll ask me to come in for more questioning later. Detective Reed even hugs me and tells me it’ll be okay, that they’ll get this bastard, but it doesn’t make me feel better. I don’t tell him what I have found on the ground. Why not? I can’t say. Maybe because the realization shocks me so deeply, I have to deal with it myself.
So, I don’t do as he tells me. I don’t go back home, even though it is late, and I need to get back to my children. Instead, I go to the base, show my ID, then drive in. I drive past the landing strips, past the big playground that is empty now due to it being so late, past the community pool, and into the south housing area. I drive onto a small street and look at all the houses on each side, warm lights oozing out of them as the families are doing their routines inside, enjoying that the workday is finally over and they now have time for what they really love, who they really love. I remember those days when I just couldn’t wait for Ryan to come home…when hearing the truck drive up in the driveway was the biggest highlight of my day. Once he was inside, and we had kissed, everything would be calm again. He’d take the crying kid in his arms and change the diaper, or he’d take over the cooking while I’d set the table, handing him a much-deserved beer, enjoying his downtime from a long day. He’d tell me stories about flying if he’d been in the air that day, which were his favorite days. He’d tell me fun stories someone else had told him or what someone did, and we’d laugh together. We’d eat together, and everything was right with the world. I’d worry about him being deployed soon or about the kids getting sick, but those were my biggest troubles. Back then, they had seemed so big and overwhelming, but compared to now, it was a walk in the park. I’d go back to that time any day now if only I could.
But it is too late for that.
I park in front of the house, then kill the engine. I hold the object tightly in my hand and look at it one last time before I leave the car. I know this is risky. I know I should have let the police take care of it, but this has gotten personal.
I wipe the tears away and let the anger fuel me. I walk up to the front door, then ring the bell, taking a couple of deep breaths to calm myself enough to muster the courage I very much need. I have the gun in my pocket and am just so relieved I wasn’t taken aside for random inspection on the way in. I couldn’t do this without it. I couldn’t catch a killer without being armed.
Chapter 47
His blue eyes stare at me from behind the screen door. He opens it and steps outside, running a hand across his bald head, rubbing it nervously as the door slams shut behind him. I can hear cicadas singing somewhere close by. I used to love that sound, but now it annoys me; it’s like a drill in my head.
“Laurie? Is that you? What are you doing here?”
I can barely breathe. I haven’t seen Ryan since the day he was in my condo. I have been so angry with him, so frustrated and mad, but now, as I am standing right in front of him, looking into his deep blue eyes, all those emotions seem to melt. Gosh, I miss him. For some reason, I can’t stop thinking about the cute way he curls his lip when he concentrates. Like he’s doing right now as he steps toward me.
“Laurie,” he says my name so softly it almost rolls off the tongue. “Listen…about the last time I came to see you…I was… Well, I haven’t been well, Laurie. I know it’s no surprise to you, but that day, it was bad. It’s no excuse, but you have to know something. After I read that article, and after everyone was on my case about it, I did something I wasn’t proud of. I took some…something I wasn’t supposed to. I got my hands on some…cocaine. It messed me up.”
He whispers the last part since he’s afraid someone might hear. Doing drugs could get him kicked out of the Air Force, and he knows it very well. There’s something different about him today. There’s a different tone to his voice than the last time we spoke, and it is haunting me. Today, both his voice and eyes are saturated with guilt.
“What you did,” he says, clenching his fist swiftly, then easing up again. “Writing that article made me so angry, and I still think it was wrong of you. You could have come to me; you could have talked to me about those things instead of making all these accusations, claiming those awful things. You didn’t think about the consequences, and you did a lot of harm around here and made me very unpopular. But that being said, it didn’t give me the right to…” he trails off, his jaw clenched before he continues. “What I am trying to say is that… The man you saw on that day, the man that came to you, it wasn’t me, Laurie. You know it wasn’t. You know me, and that day, I was someone different. I’m embarrassed to tell you this, but…I think you deserve to know the truth. And I can tell you it won’t happen again. I promise you this. I have stayed off the drugs since. I have meant to tell…”
“Save it, Ryan,” I say. Tears are stinging the back of my eyes. I can’t grasp any of what he is saying. I try so hard not to think about Vera, but the images of her falling from the bridge and lying on the stretcher as they close the body bag, keep flickering in my mind. I don’t want to hear all of Ryan’s excuses and explanations. I am not here for them.
He pauses, then looks down at what is in my hand. A deep frown grows between his eyes, and he gives me a puzzled look.
“Where did you get that?”
I lift the silver case. The e-cigarette inside of it rattles.
“I found it.”
He looks at me expectantly, waiting for an explanation. “So, you brought it here to give it to Chip? He can’t live without this stuff. I don’t know how he can get himself to vape…”
Ryan stops. He sees my eyes as they fill and takes a step toward me. The softness in his voice gives way to a slightly more doubtful tone.
“Laurie, are you okay?”
I shake my head while biting my lip excessively.
“He killed her.”
Ryan looks worriedly at me. He is getting small red spots on his cheeks, as he often does when agitated. The way his upper lip curls tell me he’s trying to hide his skepticism. He doesn’t want to push me away, so he is real
ly trying to sound compassionate.
“Who? What are you talking about?”
I swallow the growing knot in my throat. I lift the case. “This. This is why I’m here. For Chip. He killed her.”
“Now, you’re not making any sense at all, Laurie…” The pitch of his voice is raised a little.
“He killed Vera, Ryan. He shot her and pushed her off a bridge. He placed the gun in her hand first to make it look like suicide. I saw him do it. I saw… I saw… Vera plunge right into the water. I was there when they pulled her out and took her away. She’s gone…Vera is dead. And Chip did it. He probably killed Clarice, Sandra, and Ted too, and tried to kill Duke. It was him all along.”
Ryan pauses. He looks at me, and I can tell he’s at a loss for words; he’s debating within himself what to say, what to believe.
“Laurie, you’re beginning to sound crazy again. I don’t think you’re well… Maybe I should take you home,” he says. “Come, let me drive you home; you shouldn’t be driving in this state.”
Ryan is about to grab me when the door opens behind him, and Chip comes out. “Ryan are you goi…”
He stops when he sees me. “What’s she doing here?”
I am crying heavily now, even though I’m fighting to hold it back. Seeing Chip makes me lose it, and my torso is bouncing violently as I try to hold back the sobs. I see Vera fall over and over again. I hear the plunge; I see her face on the stretcher over and over again, and I want to scream. The air is so hot and muggy; I can hardly breathe.
Chip steps out with a smug smile on his face. He leans on Ryan’s shoulder like they’re best buddies, making sure I understand that they’ll stay together, and I can’t come between them, that they’ll protect one another no matter what.
“What’s going on here?” he asks, looking from me to Ryan, then back at me. “You bringing any more lies and crazy stories?”
“Did you kill her?” I ask and hold up the case with the rattling e-cigarette inside of it. “Was it you?”
When he sees the case, he lights up. “Where did you get that? I’ve been looking everywhere for it.”
He snaps it from my hand. The motion startles me, and I pull back, but not for long. I can’t let him feel how scared I am of him.
“I know what you did, Chip,” I say, trying to sound as matter of fact as possible, given the situation. “And don’t give me any more of those lies. I saw you when you pushed her into the water.”
He sends me a look of surprise, then glares at Ryan. “What’s she talking about now?”
He’s still grinning until I pull out the gun and point it at him.
“I know you killed Vera.”
“Whoa.”
Chip puts his hands up and steps back.
“Ryan, what is this?” he asks. “Please, tell your wife to calm down.”
“Laurie,” Ryan says. “Please put down the gun.”
I shake my head. My hands are trembling.
“Laurie,” Chip says. “I didn’t kill anyone; please, calm down and explain. What are you talking about?”
“Vera,” I say, struggling to get her name across my lips. “She was killed, and I saw you push her over the railing. I saw you put the gun against her head, then pull the trigger and drive away in your truck, the blue truck!”
Chip steps forward. “Laurie, please, stop this insanity. I haven’t hurt anyone. I don’t know why you’d think this. I don’t even have the blue truck anymore.”
“What?” I stare at him but don’t lower the gun.
“It’s true,” Ryan says. “He sold it two weeks ago.”
“And the case?” I ask. “The e-cigarette case I found on the ground where you and Vera stood. You have an excuse for that as well?”
Chip looks down at it, then turns it in the sparse light from the window. “Actually, I don’t. I haven’t seen it for several days. I thought I had left it somewhere, or maybe Lotty had thrown it out. You know how much she hates that I vape.”
“Laurie,” Ryan says. “I think… I don’t think you’re well.”
I can’t think straight. I look into Chip’s eyes, and I don’t know what to believe. I have known him for years. Our kids played together. I trusted him with my husband’s life when they deployed. I suddenly don’t know what has gotten into me. Am I wrong? Could I be mistaken? I look at Ryan and feel confused. I don’t know if I can trust either of them. I don’t know if I am the one who’s lost sight of reality or if they’re playing games with me. I don’t know if Ryan is right.
Am I the one who is insane here? Am I just being paranoid and seeing things?
“Laurie, hand me the gun,” Ryan says. “Then, we can talk.”
I look at him, and our eyes lock. My nostrils are flaring, my heart pounding so hard it almost hurts. I shake my head. I don’t know what to do.
“I…I…”
“Laurie,” Ryan says and gets that tone to his voice, the one that makes me feel like a child. My throat grows tight, and I touch it with the hand not holding the gun while I remember the look in his eyes when he tried to strangle me. I am reminded of seeing the same look in them when he shot our daughter and blamed me afterward.
“Laurie, hand me the gun before anyone gets hurt.”
I shake my head again, this time violently. I lift the gun high and point it at them. “No. Stay back. Don’t come anywhere near me, you hear?”
They both back off, and I turn around, then run for my minivan. As I race back toward the exit, I fear they might have called the security forces on me, to arrest me, but I slide through the gate with no problem. Tears spring from my eyes and spill onto the steering wheel as I hit the accelerator and floor it on my way home.
Chapter 48
Frank is a mess. After Vera’s funeral, he comes up to me and leans onto my shoulder, crying. I feel sick. Ryan and Chip are there too, as are the rest of their unit. They stick together like glue. I have paid my respects to Vera’s parents, Sammy and Hattie, and told them how sorry I am. It’s unbearable to look into their eyes, knowing they have been told it was a suicide. The police investigated for about a week before they came to that conclusion, apparently completely ignoring my statement. I have a feeling that Investigator Rick Thibodeau might have had a finger in that, disregarding the value of my testimony. Maybe he’s a part of it all too, I wonder. Maybe they all are, and I’m just one person trying to fight them, up against a brutal and massive force, fighting a fight I know I can’t possibly win. I know that I have messed it all up. If I hadn’t taken the e-cigarette case, maybe the police would have found it and used it as evidence. Now, I have messed up any chance of taking down Chip.
Maybe it doesn’t matter anymore.
“I can’t… I can’t…” Frank says, his eyes red-rimmed.
I hold him close. “You don’t have to. Not now. How about we get out of here? You need to get away. Spring break is coming up. My sister has a cabin up in North Carolina. Let’s go up there for a couple of days, just the two of us. My sister can take the kids. She’ll like that. She misses them, and she recently moved, so Ryan doesn’t know where she lives. They’ll be safe there.”
Frank sniffles and looks into my eyes. His face is strained in deep pain. I can’t imagine how deeply it must hurt to have lost two sisters in such a short amount of time. I feel painfully guilty for Vera’s death, and it is eating me up. I’m the one she was supposed to meet. I keep thinking it wouldn’t have happened if we hadn’t planned to meet. I keep thinking I should have kept her out of it from the beginning. I fear she was killed to shut me up—to scare me—which I have to admit was a success. I am so terrified that I barely sleep at night.
“I’d like that,” he says, wiping his eyes with the sleeve of his black shirt. “I’d really like that.”
I have another reason for taking Frank to the cabin in Bryson City, besides getting him away and maybe helping him feel better. I have thought it through a lot and decided I want this to be Frank’s child. I want to tell him I am pregn
ant, both because I think he’ll be very happy and because it’s time. I’m not getting any smaller, and since we’re sleeping together, he’ll start noticing soon. I’m ninety-percent sure it’s his, or maybe seventy-five if I am honest. But I don’t care about that. I want Frank to be the dad, whether he is so biologically or not. He’ll be a great father, and he and I will make a good couple. If he asks for a DNA test, I will make sure to get one, but if he doesn’t, then there’s no need for us ever to know. In my eyes, he is the father.
We drive there in my minivan and drop off the kids at my sister’s in Jacksonville on our way. Luckily, they both love Alicia, and no one is crying or even angry that they have to spend three days at her house. She lives right on the beach, so I’m sure she’ll be able to keep them busy while we’re gone. They’re bringing Rosie and the bunnies with them too, so they won’t be alone. It’ll be good for them.
I’m nervous as we get back into the car and drive up and through Georgia, then into the Carolinas. Not because I’m worried about my children; I feel confident they’re safe where they are. I’m not worried about my parents either since they have taken a trip to Colorado as they like to do at this time of year. They go for hikes, and my dad fishes while my mom reads. They have a place they like to visit up there with some friends every year, so I feel confident they’re safe too. Plus, it’ll be good for my dad’s recovery to get closer to nature. What I am worried about is Frank. How will he take it once I tell him about the baby? How will he react to the news that he is suddenly going to be a father? Will he run away? Will he be happy? We never discussed this. Does he even want to be a father? And how will it all work out? Will he want to marry me? Do I want to get married again? How will the kids react? Will they welcome Frank into their lives?