“Well, that’s very kind of you, Mr. Kelly. I’ll tell you, though. I did try to track her down, but that’s not my forte, so I came up empty handed.”
“Well, perhaps I can use my contacts and investigative skills to help,” I say, laying the lies on thick. I don’t have contacts, but that doesn’t mean I won’t be able to investigate enough to find her.
“What do you need to know?”
“Her last name for one.”
“Oh, it was Dunlevy.”
I write that down. “Okay, great. Do you know if her birth mother is alive?”
“I’m sorry, I don’t. She never came around again. Jayden never gave us any information on her either, so we don’t know what happened. The only thing Jayden told us was that her mom wasn’t ready to be a mom. So, whatever that means.”
“I see.”
“Oh, and I didn’t mention it before, but Stanley lived with Kathy when she was married to Mitch, so he and Jayden were under the same roof even then. Jayden was crushed when her dad died, but I think it was more because she had to live with Stanley again. I know something happened between them, and I know it wasn’t consensual. I’m not a vengeful person, because I believe God is the ultimate judge, but I’m not sad about what happened to Stanley.
“I think he moved away because he messed with the wrong person and he needed to hide. A mutual friend of mine and Kathy’s told me Kathy was helping him move to Sacramento. Now, she wouldn’t let that kid out of her sight before, so the fact that she helped him move seven hours away makes me think she was doing that to help him. He got in trouble and trouble found him as soon as he came back to town. If you look hard enough, I’m sure you’ll find more than one person wanted him dead.”
“I will do my best—” I start.
“Please find Jayden, Mr. Kelly,” he pleads, cutting me off. “Please make sure she was able to find happiness. I’ll help in any way I can.”
“Thank you, sir. I’ll be in touch.”
“Great. Thank you. “
“Good-night.”
Finding Jayden may not even give me any answers. If she was molested or raped by Stanley, then I doubt she had anything to do with him after fleeing the house. She wouldn’t know anything about him, and I wouldn’t blame her for getting as far away as possible.
This need to know who killed him and Kathy is eating at me, and I don’t have anyone else to question. I don’t know Stanley’s friends, and Kathy’s friends probably wouldn’t talk to me right now, but I doubt they’d know anything negative about Stanley. I’m sure Kathy made him out to be some sort of angel.
I also know I need to focus on finding out who broke into my house, but I have no idea where to start with that.
Staring at the computer screen for so long has given me a headache, so I get up to grab some medicine, but my phone goes off before I can leave the room. I snatch it up and answer while I walk to the kitchen.
“Hello?”
“Hey,” Analeigh says in a soft tone.
“Hey,” I repeat, opening my cabinet and searching for a bottle of pills.
“I’ve been trying to get in touch with you all day. You okay?”
A few bottles fall out of the cabinet, clattering to the counter and floor. “Shit,” I curse, gathering them up. “No. It’s been a shitty day, to be honest.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. Everything. I don’t know.”
“Oh. Did something happen?” she asks, and I wonder why she’d ask that.
“Something like what?”
“I don’t know. You seem like you’re in a bad mood.”
“I’m not feeling too well. I’ll have to call you back tomorrow.”
“Okay. Yeah, that’s fine. Hope you feel better soon.”
I hang up without another word. I’m not sure if it’s because of everything that’s been happening, but I feel suspicious of everyone. Did something happen? Yeah, my fucking house got broken into. Know something about that?
I swallow down a couple pills, turn off the lights, and lie across the couch with only the TV on. I tell myself I’ll only lay down until my headache goes away, but when I open my eyes, the sun is starting to shine through the windows. Groggily, I sit up on the couch, my body aching from the uncomfortable position I slept in, and I grab my phone to look at the time. A quarter past ten.
In desperate need of caffeine, I stagger into the kitchen and put on a pot of coffee. On my way back through the living room, heading towards the bathroom, I glance at the TV. The morning news is on, and I wonder if they’ll have anything new to report on Kathy’s death. I decide to plop back onto the couch and wait.
Fifteen minutes later, the wait is over.
“We have an update on the deaths of Stanley Keen and Kathy Weber. Police have confirmed that they believe Kathy Weber’s death to have been a homicide. In an interesting twist, not only was Ms. Weber stabbed like her grandson, Stanley Keen, but the medical examiner’s initial report seems to think they were stabbed with the same knife, as the wounds appear almost identical. Police are hesitant to call this a serial killer, but are seeking any information that could be helpful.”
“The same knife?” I muse aloud.
That only confirms what I’ve thought all along. Someone was out to seek some sort of revenge on the both of them, and if that’s the case, I can’t be mad. It’s exactly what I’ve been doing.
I strip out of my clothes and jump in the shower, trying to figure out how I could possibly find out who came into my house. If they’re watching me, maybe if I left, they’d try again. I could hide in the forest and watch as they approach my house. But they may not ever come back, so it could be a waste of my time.
After I step out of the tub, I wrap a towel around my waist and step in front of the mirror. While I brush my teeth, I glance around the room and notice my wet footprints on the tile.
That’s it. Footprints. The area around my back door is nothing but dirt and weeds. It rained a little bit the other day, so if they walked back there, there should be footprints. I could at least know if I’m dealing with one or more people. Maybe they left some sort of evidence behind.
I spit the toothpaste into the sink, rinse my mouth out, and rush to find something to put on. With only a pair of jogging pants on and some tennis shoes, I go to the door and step out onto the small concrete square that sits below my door. It looks like someone was scraping their foot along the edge of the concrete in an attempt to wipe the mud off their shoes. Bending down, I study the area surrounding the concrete and see the broken glass they swept out of my house. Underneath that, and very faint, I spot a couple footprints. They’re almost the same size as mine, but I know I wasn’t out here walking around.
Someone else was here, maybe even two people. I try to keep my anger in check and keep looking around. I move further away from the door, following what I think could be footprints around the side of my house.
I almost miss it, but when I bend down and pull it from the ground, there’s no mistake as to what it is and where it came from.
The anger is blinding. I see nothing but death. Fury bubbles inside me and now that I know who was out here, I know what I have to do. I need to try to keep my head on my shoulders, because I still need to find out who the other person is. That means I have to get back to tracking. They’ll lead me to their partner, and then I’ll lead them both to hell.
I’M IN THE truck puffing on a cigarette when my phone rings.
“Hello?”
“Hey, what’s going on?” Nick asks.
“Nothing. Why?”
“This is your second day not coming to work.”
“Yeah. I’m sick.”
“You’re in your truck right now,” he states plainly.
“How do you figure?”
“I can hear the fucking wind. You always have your windows down.”
“So, what? You my boss now?”
“No,” he says with a scoff. “Considering, you know,” h
e pauses, unsure what to say. “I just wanted to make sure everything was all right.”
“I’m fine, Nick. This has nothing to do with what you think it does.”
After a pause, he says, “Okay. What is it, then?”
I inhale the nicotine and blow it out as I answer. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”
“Where you going?”
“Why?” I ask defensively.
“Oh, sorry. I wasn’t talking to you. Hold on.” He moves his mouth away from the phone, but I can still hear some of what he’s saying. “Now? Why? Did you tell—Okay, yeah. I guess. Just hurry up and get back. All right. Donovan?”
“Yeah,” I answer, blowing smoke out the window.
“Sorry,” he says, sounding annoyed. “Anyway, well, I should get back to work.”
“Cool. Talk to you later.”
It’s almost one when I get everything I need to carry out my plan for handling at least one of the people who broke into my house. Now I have to wait, so I stay in the parking lot of the store. When I pull my phone from my pocket, I notice I missed a text from Analeigh.
Analeigh: Hey. Just wanted to see if you were feeling any better. I’m about to be at the strip club, but it’ll be slow since it’s early. Call me if you can.
Since I have time to spare, I call her. There’s not much to say, because I’m still on edge about what I’ve discovered, but I realize she has nothing to do with my anger right now, and I’m taking it out on her by ignoring her. Plus, I was rude to her last night when I hung up without saying bye.
We don’t talk for a long time, because I can’t tell her what I found out and what I plan to do about it, so I try to make small talk and lie about why I was so shitty last night. Sticking with the lie I told my boss, I tell her I was sick and feeling frustrated. She understands, saying she’s the same way when she’s sick, and everything between us seems better when we hang up.
I start driving towards my destination, knowing that now more than ever I need to have my normal mask in place. I can’t let him know that I’m onto him.
The vehicles are parked about a block away from the site, so I shouldn’t have to worry about my boss seeing me out here. I watch as Nick heads towards his car, his face buried in his phone. My truck creeps up, and soon Miguel and Tim are jogging after Nick. They all start laughing about something, and Nick turns around and spots my truck. The smile on his face is replaced with one of confusion, and now I can’t do anything but continue to drive towards them.
Tim and Miguel turn around when Nick jerks his head in my direction, and my mask is securely in place as I stop next to them, putting my window the rest of the way down.
“Hey, guys,” I greet.
“Hey,” Nick says hesitantly, glancing at the other two. “What’re you doing here? Thought you were sick,” he says, going along with my lie.
“I’m better now.”
Miguel eyes me warily. “You’re not contagious are you?”
I force a grin. “Nah. In fact,” I say, lifting up the six-pack of beer that was sitting next to me. “I was gonna see if you wanted to have a drink with me.”
“Can’t,” Tim answers. I got a thing with my sister’s fiancé,” he says, rolling his eyes. “See you tomorrow?” he asks me.
“Yep. I’ll be here.” Nick’s brows furrow in confusion as I continue to smile. “How about it?”
Nick glances at Miguel, who looks just as confused. “Uh. Sure?” he answers, looking at Miguel.
“I could go for a beer,” Miguel states with a shrug.
“Great.” Although, not great at all. I only want one of them, but I’ll have to play this out in the least suspicious way.
“Where do you wanna go?” Nick asks.
I shrug. “Wherever.”
“How about just up the street?” Miguel says. “Two blocks up or so, the construction hasn’t really started over there. All there is is a small manmade lake. Maybe it’s a pond. I don’t know. They’re gonna build houses around it. That’s all I know. We can just park around the water and drink.”
Nick glances at me. “Sure,” I reply. “Meet y’all over there.”
I get there first and back my truck up to the water’s edge, so I can sit in the bed of the truck and face the pond. Nick and Miguel pull up as I’m climbing out of the truck. Miguel gets out of the passenger side of Nick’s car, clapping his hands together once and then rubbing them together in excitement.
“I’m ready for this beer,” he says, seeming happy that I’m not tearing into him again. “Thanks, dude.”
“Yeah, sure,” I say, pulling one for myself and handing one to Nick.
We all settle in, me and Nick sitting in the bed of my truck with the six-pack between us, and Miguel throwing rocks into the pond. They talk about their day at work, and I listen. Well, I pretend to. Really, I’m plotting, but they don’t know that.
I babysit my beer, drinking only the one, while Nick and Miguel both drink two apiece. Their unease about me being suddenly sociable dissipates as we stay out there, laughing about god knows what, and talking about women and the problems we’ve had with them. I play along, making shit up and pretending I care about whatever they’re saying. Anybody else would think we were three close friends enjoying the night together, but I know better.
“You gonna drink that?” Miguel asks, gesturing to the last beer.
“Nah, man. Go ahead.”
He takes it and twists the cap, throwing it into the water. “Thanks.”
“So, Candy, whose real name is Tina, called me the other night,” Nick says.
“The stripper?” I ask.
“Yeah. I think I like the name Candy better, but oh well,” he says with a laugh. “She wanted to get together.”
“Did you?” Miguel questions with a big grin on his face.
“Not yet. I’ve been busy.” The look he gives me is quick, but I know what he’s referring to. “So, maybe this weekend.”
“Nice,” I tell him, nodding my head.
“Yeah, man. She can give you lap dances all the time,” Miguel adds.
“Yeah, naked ones, with her grinding on my dick,” Nick replies with a snort. He takes the last sip of his beer and puts the empty bottle back in the cardboard case. “God, what time is it?”
Miguel goes to look at his wrist. “Fuck. I forgot I didn’t have my watch. I left it at my girl’s house. I got this nice, blue and black Nike, GPS watch. It does a lot of shit, but I haven’t had time to figure it all out yet. Of course as soon as I get it, I leave it somewhere. With my damn sunflower seeds too.”
“I was wondering why I didn’t see you chewing those damn things today,” Nick says with a laugh. “And since when do you have a girl?” he laughs.
“Yeah, man. It sucks. Anyway, I’ve had a girl for a little while. Just moved in not too long ago,” he says with a proud grin, looking at the both of us.
“Well, damn. You didn’t come off like a relationship kind of guy,” Nick jokes. “Especially since I know I’ve seen you with a couple different girls when we’ve gone out.”
Miguel smirks and shrugs one shoulder. “I like to keep my options open. You never know.”
Nick shakes his head at him and then pulls his phone out of his pocket to check the time. “Man, I should get home. I need to shower and eat.”
“Yeah. Me too,” Miguel chimes in, gulping down the rest of the beer.
“You good to drive?” Nick asks Miguel.
“Course! Three beers ain’t shit. I’ll just walk back to my car from here.”
“Okay, cool.”
“Later, man,” Miguel calls out as Nick gets in his car. “Well,” he says, turning to me. “I’m surprised you invited me to drink with you guys, but thanks.”
I nod. “Yeah, sometimes things happen that make you open your eyes to some shit, you know?”
He looks confused, but he nods anyway. “Yeah.”
“I really didn’t mean to invite Nick, but he was there, so.”
He chuckles. “Y’all get in a fight or something?”
I hop out of the bed of the truck. “Nah.”
I watch him for a little while, and his laughter dies down as he glances around, noticing we’re alone and in the dark. “Well—” Guess his unease isn’t gone after all.
“You know, I was thinking,” I start. “I didn’t think you had it in you. I thought you were a big talker, but didn’t have much to back it up with.”
“What do you mean?” he asks, a half smile on his lips, whether from nerves or alcohol, I don’t know.
“I never respected you before, Miguel. That’s why I didn’t like you, but you proved me wrong. You do have balls.”
He laughs. “Thanks, I guess.”
I laugh with him. “Yeah. It’s unfortunate, though.”
“What is?”
“How you decided to prove yourself.”
He shakes his head. “I’m confused, man.”
I let my smile stretch across my face and step closer to him. “You came into my house,” I say in a low growl. “Didn’t you?”
His eyes widen and he looks around for some sort of escape route. “Your house?”
“Don’t bother looking around. It’s just you and me. You picked the perfect place. Nobody lives around here, and there’s nowhere for you to run. Your car is two blocks away. So, I’d suggest just doing what I say. It’ll be so much easier for you in the long run. Understand?”
He nods but I still see his eyes darting around, looking for something that can help him.
“Okay, you’re going to tell me who was with you when you came to my house.”
“I—I don’t know what you’re tal—talking about,” he says, stammering through his lie.
I making a tsk noise. “Don’t lie to me, Miguel. I know you were there. You broke into my house, breaking my back window and then sweeping out the broken glass. I just want to know why. Why did you break in and what did you take? Just tell me that and I’ll let you go.”
He hesitates, licking his lips nervously. “Donovan.”
Annoyed, I pull out my knife and release the blade, holding it down to my side. He sees it, though, and that’s all that matters. I stick my hand into my other pocket and when I pull it out, I open it up and show him what I found.
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