by T. R. Ragan
Climbing out of the van, he walked to the back and flung open the doors. Again he dug out the tire and then reached inside and felt the ax beneath the cloth. He swallowed. He didn’t know what to do or what to think. But he knew that he wanted to get as far away from this place as possible.
Back behind the wheel, he started the engine and drove off. Until recently, he hadn’t thought he had a violent bone in his body. Not once had he put a hand to either one of his children; the idea had never crossed his mind. But instinct told him that what he’d just witnessed was not a supernatural event. What he’d seen was his past, a stored memory that hadn’t decayed with age.
He made a left and then a right at the stop sign. Before he merged onto the main road, bright lights swirled behind him.
Shit. All he could think about was the ax. What if they found the ax? His heart rate spiraled out of control as he pulled over. In the side mirror he watched an officer walk toward him with a flashlight. Ben rolled down his window and was greeted by a blinding light.
“Ben Morrison?”
The light disappeared. Through narrowed eyes, Ben saw a face. It was Jessie’s friend. “Colin Grayson,” he said. “Is there a problem?”
“Why don’t you step outside?” Colin told him.
His instinct was to question the officer. Instead, he opened the door, stepped outside, and followed Colin to the back of his van. Did he know something?
Ben’s shoulders tensed as he grabbed hold of the handles to the back door. He couldn’t recall whether or not he’d closed the cover to the spare tire.
“What are you doing?” Colin asked.
Ben gave him a puzzled look. “I thought you wanted to have a look inside.”
“No. I just wanted to show you that not only do you have a taillight out, but it looks as if your back tire is extremely low. I thought you’d want to take a look for yourself.”
Breathe, Ben told himself. Breathe.
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah. No,” Ben said, shaking his head. “It’s pretty safe to say that I’ve had a crazy day.” The puzzled look on Colin’s face worried Ben, so he added, “I met my sister for the first time.” He shook his head again when he realized Colin wouldn’t know what he was talking about.
“Your amnesia,” Colin said, catching on. “Jessie has mentioned bits and pieces here and there. I guess your reunion didn’t go so well. I’m sorry.”
“Thanks.” Ben gestured at the taillight. “So, what do we do now? Do you need to write me up for the taillight problem?”
“No need. Just try to take care of it in the next few days.” Colin pointed at the tire. “Want me to help you change your tire?”
“No. No. I’ll take care of it.”
“What are you doing out this way, if you don’t my asking?”
Again Ben had to collect himself. “It’s sort of a long story, but it has to do with an old case. The killer has been on the Most Wanted list for twelve years, but recently they discovered his bones.”
“DJ Stumm,” Colin provided.
“That’s the guy. Killed his wife and two kids. Larry said I was obsessed with the case, but I have no recollection of it.” He raked a hand through his hair. “After the debacle with my sister, I needed to clear my head, and here I am.”
“Did it help?”
Ben thought of the ax in the back of his van. “Not in the least.”
TWENTY-ONE
Jessie picked up her phone. According to Ben’s text, his sister’s flight was at 11:25 a.m. out of Sacramento. On the off chance Nancy would eat an early breakfast before checking out of the hotel, Jessie had been sitting the front lobby for the past hour.
She glanced at the clock above the reservation desk. It was eight o’clock. If worse came to worst, she figured she could jump in a cab with Nancy and talk to her on the way to the airport. But she was glad she wouldn’t have to resort to trapping the woman in a cab when the elevator door slid open and Ben’s sister, Nancy, stepped out and made her way to the coffee shop. Jessie kept her distance as she followed her that way. Since she didn’t want her to head right back to the elevator, she would wait until she had ordered her meal.
After the server took Nancy’s order and filled up her coffee cup, Jessie approached her. “Hi, Nancy. My name is Jessie Cole. I’m an investigator in the area, and I was hoping I could talk to you. I will only take a few minutes of your time, I promise.”
The woman’s face paled, and in that moment Jessie noticed that she looked a lot like her brother. The eyes and mouth.
“What is this about?” Nancy asked.
“Your brother.”
“Is he in some sort of trouble?”
“No. He’s asked me to help him look into his past, and I knew you were going to be in town, so I thought I’d stop by and see if I could find you.”
Nancy looked around worriedly. “Is he here?”
“Who?”
“My brother.”
“Oh no. Just me. I promise.”
“You make a lot of promises.”
Jessie thought about that for a moment. “Yeah, I guess I do.”
Nancy waved a hand toward the empty seat. “Don’t let me stop you.”
Jessie hooked the strap of her purse on the chair across from Nancy and took a seat.
“You didn’t just happen to run into me, did you?”
Jessie raised a questioning brow.
“How long have been waiting for me to make an appearance?”
“Over an hour.”
Nancy took a sip of her coffee. “Well, at least you’re honest.”
“I try to be.”
“Did Ben put you up to this?”
“No,” Jessie lied. “It was my idea. In fact, he didn’t want me to bother you. He was afraid I might compromise any chance of you two getting reacquainted.”
“Have you talked to him since yesterday?” she asked.
“No.” And that was the truth.
“Well, he did ask me why I’ve been avoiding him, and I told him the truth. That he should be glad he has no memories from his childhood. They were grim years,” she said before taking another swallow of her coffee. “I also told him to let it go. He has a lovely family, beautiful kids, so why screw it all up by digging into the past?”
“Did he mention that he’s been having flashbacks?”
“No. What sort of flashbacks?”
“He sees what he calls film clips or film reels of people and scenes he believes could possibly be memories from a time before the accident.”
“I see.”
When Nancy failed to say anything more, Jessie asked, “Is there anything you can tell me that would make me understand why you’re so dead set on keeping away from him?”
Her shoulders slumped forward. “As I told Ben last night, I always thought he cared about me. But overall, he was never the touchy-feely sort. In all those years I don’t think he ever tried to have a conversation with me. He was four years older than me, so I’ve always tried to keep that in mind, but I can tell you that the man I met yesterday was not the same Ben Morrison I once knew.”
Before Jessie could ask her to explain, she continued. “I’m going to tell you a story about Ben. For me it sort of sums him up. Do with it what you wish. Maybe it’ll help you understand who Ben is or was—maybe it won’t. We grew up in a small town called Clarksburg about twelve miles from here. Ben had few friends.” She released a cynical laugh. “Who am I kidding? Ben had no friends. He was twelve at the time, and I was eight. On this particular day, one of the neighborhood moms left their son to play at our house while she went to run an errand.”
Nancy stopped talking when the server brought her food. After he left, Nancy resumed where she’d left off. “I remember the day vividly. I think I was fascinated at the idea of Ben talking or playing or doing anything at all with another human being, so I watched the two boys from a window. Not five minutes went by before I saw the other boy break two good-size sticks from a tr
ee and hand one over to Ben. The boy then appeared to explain something to my brother in great detail. The way he held the stick and jabbed it this way and that, it seemed he was telling Ben that their sticks were swords, and they were going to have a sword fight. It started off well enough. The boy took a playful jab at Ben, missed, then took two steps back.
“I was more than pleased when Ben did the same. This went on for a couple of minutes. The whole thing was very entertaining, and for the first time ever, I really thought Ben was enjoying himself.”
“He wasn’t a happy child?” Jessie asked.
“That’s the thing,” Nancy said. “I really couldn’t tell you. Ben didn’t have a lot of expression in his face. I never knew if he was happy or sad. But on this particular day, I could tell that he was feeling something.”
Nancy ate some of her breakfast while Jessie wondered where this story might be going. She used her napkin to wipe her mouth and then sipped her coffee before she said, “And then the boy poked Ben in the eye.” Nancy closed her eyes as she inhaled. Clearly she was having a difficult time.
“Was Ben hurt?”
Nancy shook her head. “I don’t think so. Ben dropped his stick and held his eye, but he wasn’t crying.”
“What did the other boy do?”
“He attacked my brother. First he used the stick to jab Ben in the stomach. When Ben did nothing to protect himself, the boy kept at it. Jabbing, jabbing, jabbing. It was awful.”
Nancy’s head fell forward slightly as she collected herself. Jessie felt responsible for the pain Nancy was experiencing, but she didn’t try to stop her from going on.
“I wanted to stop it,” Nancy said, “but I was afraid.”
“Of the boy?”
“Of everything. The boy, Ben, what would happen if Mom or Dad found out. So I just kept watching. And it was the very next jab that changed everything.”
Jessie had no idea where Nancy’s story was headed, but the color had drained from her face, making Jessie tense. “What happened?”
“Ben ripped the stick from the boy’s clutches and whacked him across the neck and the face and then every part of his body, over and over again. When the boy fell to the ground, Ben tossed the stick to the side, jumped on top of him, and began to strangle him.”
“Oh no.”
Stuttering, Nancy choked out the words. “I was frantic. I used my fists to pound the window, but he never looked over at me.” She held Jessie’s gaze. “I had to do something, so I ran outside and tried to pull Ben off the boy.” She swallowed. “Finally, Ben saw that I was crying, and that’s when he let go.”
“And the boy? Was he okay?”
“I thought he was dead. Next thing you know, I hear sirens in the distance.” She clutched her stomach. “Turned out Mom had watched it all but never did anything to stop it.”
“But she called 9-1-1,” Jessie said.
“Yes. She did that. And the boy lived, but only after spending a long time in the hospital—critical condition. He nearly died. Ben was kicked out of school. Social Services made a few appearances.”
“How awful it must have been for you to witness that.”
Nancy waved away any sympathy. “I told you that story because for me that sums up the brother I once knew. That was the day cold, emotionless Ben came alive,” she said flatly.
Jessie had wondered what the point was, but the story didn’t tell her much. One event, no matter how horrible or wrong, did not make a person. It certainly didn’t give Jessie any idea of their family life. “Do you believe Ben’s behavior had anything to do with his environment?”
“If you’re talking about our parents, yes. I’m sure of it. As I told Ben last night, our parents were not good people, and I refuse to talk about either one of them.” Nancy picked up her fork and picked at her food but didn’t take another bite.
“So what made you come to see Ben now, after all this time?”
“I’m pregnant.” She folded and unfolded the napkin in her lap. “I wanted to meet Ben’s children and find out if I should be worried about possibly giving birth to a demon child.”
Jessie was left speechless. Demon child? She could never tell Ben what she’d heard this morning, and she had a feeling Nancy knew she wouldn’t.
“I’m not a bad person,” she said.
“So your meeting with Ben’s family was a test of sorts?”
She nodded. “I needed to know if his children showed any telltale signs of what I saw growing up. Not just in my brother but also in my mother and father.”
Jessie was overcome with a sudden protectiveness toward Ben. “As you mentioned before, you were so much younger than Ben at the time. I don’t see how one or two events could frighten you enough to want nothing to do with him. He’s a loving father and a good man.”
“I lived it. I was there. Ben did not suffer from mood changes and depression. What I’m talking about had nothing to do with hyperactivity or acting out. Ben was simply Ben, cold and emotionless. I can’t describe him any better than that.”
“What about holidays or birthdays? Was he different then?”
Nancy’s shoulders slumped, and Jessie knew she was testing her limits. “I think you’re asking me if there were happier times for Ben and our family.”
Jessie nodded.
“The answer is no. Holidays brought out the worst in my mother.” Nancy’s mouth tightened before she blurted angrily, “When Mother got frustrated, she kicked the dog. If I protested, she’d kick harder. So I learned to bite my tongue and pretend not to care.”
Jessie’s stomach tensed.
“Nothing was ever good enough for her. It would usually start with a complaint. She’d say the house was a pigpen and then start throwing things, whatever she could get her hands on. On one particular Christmas, she broke the dog’s legs, or ribs, or maybe both. I don’t recall. When the dog yelped, she simply got meaner, did things to the poor animal that still keep me up at night.”
Nancy looked down at her plate. “That was the only time I saw Ben stand up to our mother. He was big for his age and had been towering over her for a while. He came between her and the dog, put his hand on Mother’s face, and pushed her slowly away from the dog until she was up against the wall. He then turned around, scooped the poor animal into his arms, and left the house.”
No wonder Nancy had avoided talking to Ben about their childhood. It was the stuff of nightmares. “Did Ben get the dog help?” Jessie asked.
“I only know that I never saw my dog again.” She wiped a tear from her face. “I haven’t told my own husband what went on back then. I can’t talk about this any longer. I’m finished.”
“I understand. I’m sorry. Before I go, I was wondering how your visit went. I’ve never met Ben’s children. What did you think?”
Nancy perked up a little bit. “They’re lovely. And I can’t wait to get back home and share the news with my husband.”
“That you met your brother’s children and thought they were great kids?”
“Oh no. He thinks I’m in Sacramento on business. I’m excited to tell him that I’m pregnant and that we’re having a boy.”
“I see,” Jessie said, although she didn’t see at all. “Congratulations.” Jessie stood, thanking her again before she walked away. Jessie’s insides roiled as she made her way to her car.
Ben’s sister was pregnant, but she’d been too terrified by all that had happened growing up to tell her husband the news. Not until she made sure Ben’s children had turned out okay.
For the first time since meeting Ben, Jessie wondered if leaving his past in the past would be the better choice. What if his sister wasn’t being melodramatic? What if his memories did finally return, and the ugliness of his childhood brought him nothing but pain?
TWENTY-TWO
Jessie, Zee, and Olivia all sat in front of their laptops at the dining room table in Jessie’s house. Jessie had logged each of them into DHI’s database using her temporary log-in.
Jessie nodded. “We’re going to skim through every complaint and look for clues.” She reached for the whiteboard and held it up. “We’ll start by making a list of keywords. For instance, after reading the letter, we know that this father’s grievance concerns his daughter, who was ill. So daughter would be a keyword.” She wrote the word daughter on the whiteboard, and then female.
“How do you know the father wrote the complaint and not the mother?” Olivia asked.
“Because within the body of the letter he talks about losing his wife in an accident.”
“Ahh. Got it.”
“Let’s all read the letter again and then brainstorm other keywords we might look for while reading.”
After a few minutes, Olivia said, “‘Diagnosed at twenty-one’ and ‘lumps and swollen joints.’” Jessie wrote them on the whiteboard along with two of her own: “suffered for months” and “died too young.”
“Experimental drug,” Zee added.
“Great. If you come up with more, write them down. There were approximately sixteen hundred grievances in the past two years. Each grievance has a link.” Jessie pointed at Olivia. “You start with the first five hundred. Zee can take five hundred and one to one thousand. And I’ll take a thousand and one to fifteen hundred.”
“What about his signature, MAH?” Olivia asked.
“Good point. If we find a complaint written by anyone with the initials MAH or MH, then add them to the list and highlight the initials. Anytime you find a complaint with one of the keywords, write down the name of the person who filed the complaint along with the number assigned by DHI.”
“The first three complaints on my list,” Olivia said, “are Medicare hospital discharge appeals.”
“That makes our job easier,” Jessie said. “As soon as you see that, move on to the next. I also see a lot of policy cancellations due to nonpayment.”
Surprised by Zee’s silence, Jessie looked that way and saw her lips moving rapidly as she read through the complaints. Jessie was grateful to have her help.