Unveiling the Past

by Kim Vogel Sawyer

  Kip sauntered closer, giving his head a little jerk that shifted his bangs. “I s’pose you’re here to bawl me out over the marijuana thing.” He set his bare man-feet wide and folded his arms. “You can save the lecture. I already know I messed up. That’s what I do best, right?”

  Kevin gestured to the floral sofa. “Can we sit? There’s something I’d like to say, but I promise it isn’t a lecture. Okay?”

  His son seemed to measure him through slit lids, then gave a brusque nod. “All right. But make it quick, huh? I’m kinda busy.” He scuffed to the sofa and flopped onto the center cushion.

  Julie took a step in the direction of the kitchen. “I think I’ll—”

  Kevin held his hand to her. “No, please join us. I have something to say to you, too.”

  Uncertainty marred her still-beautiful features, but she changed course and sat next to Kip. Kevin chose one of the barrel chairs facing the couch and seated himself. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and looked Kip straight in the eyes. “Son, I’m sorry.”

  The bored expression flashed to confusion, then twisted into a derisive scowl. “Oh, yeah. Sorry you adopted me, right?”

  Kevin had expected as much. Maintaining eye contact, he shook his head. “I’m sorry I adopted you but then didn’t treat you like a son.”

  Kip and Julie exchanged a glance. Kip flapped the hem of his stretched-out, holey T-shirt. “Whadda you mean?”

  “I mean I should’ve spent time with you. Been more patient and loving. I treated you more like an intrusion in my relationship with your mother than as my child, and I was wrong. I only gave you”—he swallowed a grin, hearing Hazel’s voice in his head—“soggy potato chips when you really wanted crisp ones.”

  Julie and Kip frowned. She shook her head. “You aren’t making a great deal of sense.”

  Kevin kept his focus on his son. “I should’ve noticed the good things you did instead of only hollering about the bad things. You did a lot of good things, Kip. I remember how you used to draw and color and build things with blocks and Tinkertoys. I wish I’d told you then, but since I didn’t, I’m telling you now. You have a talent for making things.”

  Kip’s hair drifted over his eyes again. He pushed it aside. “Okay. So?”

  The insolence stirred Kevin’s frustration. He glanced down and noted greenish stains on Kip’s feet. He pointed. “Are those grass stains?”

  Kip lifted his foot and peeked at its sole. “Yeah. Guess so.”

  Julie tsk-tsked. “I told you to wash your feet after you mowed this morning. You’ll leave marks on the carpet.”

  Kevin sat up and stared at Julie. “You don’t have a gardener taking care of the yard?”

  Julie pursed her lips. “How would I afford a gardener? No, Kip takes care of the grass and landscaping.”

  Kevin turned a genuinely astounded look on Kip. “The yard looks fantastic. I noticed when I pulled up, and I inwardly commended the gardener. You’re the gardener? Good job.”

  Kip blew out a snide breath. “It’s just grass and bushes, Dad. No need to have a stroke over it.” But something—gratitude? confidence?—flickered in his eyes.

  Kevin laughed. He held up both hands as if surrendering, then dropped them to the chair’s armrests. “Okay. The point is, Kip, I wasn’t a very good dad, and I really want to change that. If you’ll let me, I’d like to spend more time with you. Maybe go to a ball game this summer or take a weekend trip somewhere.”

  “Like where?”

  “I don’t know.” Kip was too old for the standard weekend go-tos like amusement parks or zoos. “What sounds fun?”

  Kip’s lips twitched. “Las Vegas? Take in some shows, hit a few slots?”

  Kevin grinned. “I’ll think about it.” Then he sobered and leaned forward again, propping himself up with his elbows on his knees, and settled his gaze on Kip. “There’s something we should have done as a family when you were growing up, something that probably would have made a lot of difference in how things went down between your mother and me and in how I raised you. We should’ve gone to church. I’m going to start attending. I’ll be…I don’t know what to call it…shopping around for a church over the next few weeks. I’d really like it if you’d come with me. We could make Sundays our day.”

  Kip shook his head. “No, thanks. I remember ‘our’ Sundays when I was a kid.”

  Kevin remembered them, too. Kip locked in his room watching cartoons on the little television Kevin had put in there to keep him occupied while Kevin did paperwork. Remorse struck hard. “Those weren’t really together days, were they? These would be different. I don’t know you, and I want to get to know you. You don’t have to answer right now. Think about it. But if you’re not working at Murray’s on Sunday, I’d like to pick you up, have you church shop with me, then grab dinner and…talk.”

  Silence fell in the room. Kevin waited, observing his son’s lazy pose and bored expression. Yet his eyes—his vivid blue eyes that used to beg for someone to notice him—seemed to glimmer with something Kevin hoped was interest.

  Finally Kip sighed. “I dunno, Dad. This seems fishy to me, you coming in after I totally messed up and not even saying a word about it. I’ll think about doing the Sunday thing, but I’m not making any promises. It’s not like I’m twelve and you can buy me off with a skateboard.”

  Kevin held up his hand, Boy Scout style. “No more buying off.” He pointed at Kip. “And no more paying off, either. As you said, you’re not a little kid anymore, so from now on, if you get yourself into trouble, you’re going to have to get yourself out.” He shifted his gaze to include Julie. “Your mother and I will always be here for you, to encourage you and advise you, but we’ve got to step back and let you be responsible for yourself. It’s time.”

  She didn’t speak, but a tiny bob of her head let him know that she’d heard him.

  He stood, crossed the short expanse of carpet, and sat on the sofa’s armrest. He put his hand on Kip’s shoulder. “You’re too smart to spend your life hanging out in your mother’s basement. You’re too talented to waste your time playing video games. This isn’t a lecture, Kip. It’s a suggestion. Ditch Murray’s, look for a job that’ll let you make use of the abilities God planted in you, and take care of yourself. You’ll be a lot happier if you start building good habits instead of wallowing in these old, harmful practices.”

  Still gripping his son’s skinny shoulder, Kevin summoned as much courage as he could find. “And listen…I want you to make a promise. From now on, no matter what happens—good, bad, or indifferent—there’ll be no talk of doing away with yourself.”

  Kip flinched. He squirmed, but Kevin didn’t lift his hand.

  “Suicide is a permanent solution to a temporary problem. I know that sounds like a platitude, but it’s the truth. Life is always changing. There’s always hope for improvement, but if you end your life, you won’t ever experience the good.” He closed his eyes for a moment, reliving past memories and pain that made it hard for him to breathe. He looked into Kip’s youthful, belligerent face. “My dad killed himself a few years before I married your mom.”

  Julie’s mouth fell open, and Kip sat up, dislodging Kevin’s hand.

  Kevin cupped his shaking hand over his knee. “Money was always important to Dad—he thought it gave him power. He did business with some people who weren’t on the up-and-up, and he did it on purpose because there was money to be made. The truth was about to come to light, and he was facing some significant jail time. Worse, in his opinion, his reputation would be tarnished. He couldn’t handle it, so he got himself soused with one-hundred-eighty-proof whiskey and took a deliberate tumble down our cellar stairs.”

  Kip looked skeptical. “Sounds like an accident to me. How do you know he fell on purpose?”

  “He told my mom and me so in a letter.” Kevin paused, his heart hamme
ring in his chest. He was breaking a promise to Mom by sharing the whole truth, but Kip needed to hear it. “I’ve never told anybody else about that letter until now. But I want you to know how wrong he was. How much pain he caused.”

  Both Kip and Julie stared at him, and he was certain he glimpsed sympathy in Julie’s expression, but neither spoke.

  Kevin sighed. “My mother has never forgiven herself for not being more aware and stopping him. She lives every day with regret and heartache. I know you love your mom, Kip. Don’t do that to her. Don’t even think about doing that to her. From now on, when it comes to the subject of suicide, you don’t think it, you don’t say it, and you for sure don’t do it. If you start to think it, you call me and we’ll talk it through. Agreed?”

  Julie gripped Kip’s elbow. “Promise him, Kip. Promise me.”

  Kip glanced from his mother to his dad and then lowered his gaze. He nodded, his hair flopping. “Okay. Okay, I promise.”

  Relief flooded Kevin. He rose. “I guess that’s all I came to say. Julie, please keep me updated on Kip’s court dates. I want to be there for those. And, Kip, let me know about Sunday. I’d sure like to have your company.”

  Kip didn’t look up, but he nodded.

  Julie walked Kevin to the door. He stopped and set his hand on the doorknob. “Thanks for letting me come in.”

  Her lips quivered with a half smile. “Thanks for coming.” She touched his arm. “Really, Kevin, thanks.”

  Thirty-Three

  Little Rock, Arkansas

  Sean

  Sean drove Meghan to Greg Dane’s house early Tuesday morning. They needed to pick up Sheila on the way, so Greg requested a seven o’clock departure. Sean slid Meghan’s suitcase into the back of Greg’s SUV, then pulled her into his embrace.

  “Call me this evening. Let me know what you find out.”

  “I will. I’ll be praying you get a lead on Stony Dunsbrook’s location.”

  “Thanks, babe.”

  She kissed him full on the mouth. “Make sure you miss me.”

  “You don’t have to worry about that. I miss you already.”

  Greg slammed the hatch lid closed and groaned. “You two could make a person gag.” But he grinned, ruining the insult.

  Sean waved the pair down the road, then climbed into his Bronco and drove to work. The parking garage was largely empty, given the early hour, but one car stood out. A car Sean hadn’t expected to see. He trotted the distance between the garage and the cold-case building and let himself in with his key. The elevator carried him to the fourth floor. The unit’s doors were standing open, letting the AC flow into the landing.

  He strode in and went directly to Tom Farber’s desk. Farber sat hunched over his computer, red-rimmed eyes seemingly glued to the screen. Sean gave him a quick inspection and grimaced. How long had it been since the man shaved? Or changed his clothes? Farber had been away from the office for only a few days, but he seemed like he’d aged ten years.

  Sean perched on the edge of Farber’s desk and crossed his arms. “How long have you been here?”

  Farber flicked a frown at him and returned his attention to the screen. “Since four or so. I couldn’t sleep, and there wasn’t anything to do at my house, so I came in. I needed a distraction.”

  If Sean’s nose was working correctly, he also needed a bath. “Cap said you’d be out for a couple of weeks. Sure surprised me to see your car in the garage. It’s good to have you back, though. Glad you feel up to working.”

  Farber snorted. “It’s not a matter of feeling up to it. It’s a matter of this is all I’ve got, so I came in.”

  Sean glanced at the big round clock on the wall. Only a quarter past seven. They weren’t officially on duty until eight. That gave him some leeway. He braced his palm on Farber’s desk and leaned toward him. “Tom?”

  The detective’s bushy eyebrows descended. His gaze traveled from Sean’s hand to his face. “Since when are we on a first-name basis?”

  Sean held eye contact even though every part of him wanted to flinch away from the resentment blazing in Farber’s pale-green eyes. “We’re off duty. There’s nobody else here. It won’t hurt a thing for us to be friendly. And I have to tell you, Tom, if you’re trying to make this job your everything, you’re going to find it sorely dissatisfying.”

  Farber pushed back from his desk and folded his arms tightly over his chest. He tapped his foot on the floor. The rhythmic thuds echoed in the large room. “Well, aren’t you the bringer of cheer? Nice thing to tell a man whose family walked out on him. I can’t even drown my sorrows since I gave up the sauce. I had to or Cap says forget being promoted. Can’t you let me at least hold on to my position as detective?”

  “I’m not trying to take it away from you. There’s nothing wrong with finding pleasure or purpose in work. Even the Bible says hard work brings a profit. But this job is only that—a job. It’s not going to fill the empty place inside that you tried to fill with alcohol.”

  Farber’s expression turned fierce. He balled his hands into fists. “What’ve I told you about preaching at me? I’ll file a suit. I’ll—”

  “You can try. But it’ll get nowhere because we aren’t on the job right now. Not until eight, so I have the freedom to say what I want to say for the next forty-five minutes.”

  “And I’ve got the freedom to tune you out.”

  Sean shrugged. “You sure do. But do you really want to tune me out? Think of it this way. If you were walking blindfolded straight toward a cliff, would you want someone to call your name and keep you from stepping over the edge?”

  Farber blasted a laugh. “That’s dumb. I’m not blindfolded and walking toward a cliff.”

  “Not physically, but you are spiritually.” Sean sent up a silent prayer for guidance. He didn’t want to say too much and scare Farber off, but the man needed to hear the truth. He needed to find a purpose in living. Farber needed Jesus.

  Sean sat up and laid his linked hands in his lap. “Believe me, Tom, your spiritual life is much more important than your physical one. Physical life is temporary. It ends when we release our last breath. But spiritual life? It goes into eternity. Do you want to spend eternity separated from God the Father?”

  Farber shot out of the chair and rushed at Sean. He gritted his teeth, nearly snarling. “I told you I don’t want you preaching at me. I’ve heard it all before. There’s another verse somewhere that says there’s nothing new under the sun. Well, it’s true when it comes to spouting your religious nonsense. My old man pounded the Bible into me when I was growing up. Oh, how upright and holy he made himself to be. But then he had an affair and left us. So what good was his so-called Christianity? It was worthless.”

  The detective carried hurt and hatred like the stench of body odor. Years of bitterness had hardened his heart, and it started because his father, the one who’d quoted Scripture and taught his son about God, had chosen a sinful path. His father had left, and now his wife had left. Sean hung his head. God was a great healer, but he hadn’t realized how much healing Farber needed.

  He lifted his head and met Farber’s angry glare. “I’m sure sorry. When someone we love lets us down, it affects us. I’m gonna say one more thing, and then I’ll be quiet, okay? God’s not people. He doesn’t leave us. He doesn’t let us down. Whatever He does is out of His deep love for us and His desire for us to live lives of joy. So don’t blame God for your father’s choices. God didn’t want that for you, either.”

  Farber stared at Sean for several silent seconds, his jaw shifting back and forth and his fists clenching and unclenching. He lurched, and Sean expected to feel a fist in his face, but Farber grabbed his chair, jammed it closer to the desk, then leaned on it. He cocked his head. “You done?”

  Sean nodded.

  “Good. Now it’s my turn to talk.” He pointed to his computer screen. “I mi
ght’ve found Stony Dunsbrook.”

  Fort Smith, Arkansas

  Meghan

  “Hmm, here’s something. In Florida.” Meghan leaned back and made room for Greg to look at her computer screen. The tiny resource room tucked in an upstairs corner of the city library made a perfect away-from-home office. Not a soul around besides her, Greg, and Sheila. Their two hours at the Sebastian County Courthouse turned up nothing more than what they’d already learned about Thames’s and Wallingford’s upscale but not over-the-top property holdings in Fort Smith, but Greg’s suggestion to search in every state in the U.S. proved lucrative. She wished she’d thought of it.

  At the library, they’d decided to divide and conquer. Greg researched Michael Thames, and Meghan took Darryl Wallingford. Greg hadn’t found a single hit, but Meghan’s finds were proving telling.

  “What is it?” Sheila left her chair and leaned over Meghan’s shoulder.

  “A three-bedroom house in Stuart. Beachfront.”

  Greg whistled. “That’d cost a pretty penny. Does it say when he took ownership?”

  Meghan scrolled down a bit. “It looks like…January 1999. The title’s clear, and according to the last purchase records, he paid not quite a quarter million dollars.” She blew out a little breath. “It’d probably cost twice that now.”

  “So he bought that one three years before Daddy disappeared.” Sheila straightened. “When did you say he bought the one in Breckenridge, Colorado?”

  Meghan peeked at her notes. “In 1996. Paid a little over one hundred sixty-five grand, and the title is clear, same as the one in Florida.”

  Sheila shook her head. “Clear back in ’96. How could he take money for so many years and nobody notice?”

  Greg grunted. “I guess a little at a time.” He tapped on his computer keys with his usual hunt-and-peck method. “So two properties purchased outright. That used up about four hundred thousand dollars, but that leaves a lot not accounted for.”

  “Do you think he has houses in other states, too?” Sheila chewed her thumbnail, her gaze zipping back and forth between Meghan and Greg.