by Fox, Harley
“It … no,” I tell them. “No. She’s, um, not going to be coming back.”
To my surprise they don’t protest. It looks like any fight they would have had in them is gone.
“That’s too bad,” Tyrone says. “I liked her.”
“Yeah, she’s pretty amazing,” Chloe agrees. “And Flynn, to be honest I thought you two were going to end up together. You guys seemed perfect for each other.”
“What was the fight about?” Kendal asks, and I remember to my conversation with Trista. It was only yesterday that it happened, but it feels like so much more time has passed.
“Nothing,” I say, feeling sad, like there’s a hole in my heart. “It just turns out she’s not who I thought she was.”
They don’t ask any more. Nobody says anything. The mood in the room is low as I get up and head to the bar. If there’s any time in my life where I needed to be out of my head, it’s right now.
I need to drink.
Trista
I blink up at the woman standing before me.
“I’m sorry,” I say slowly. “Did you say Craig Silver?”
“Yes,” the woman says, bouncing little Nathan in her arms. She looks nervous. “Is there a problem?”
A million thoughts run through my mind, but the one that flashes like a bright neon sign is: THEY COULD BE BACK AT ANY MINUTE.
“No,” I tell her, getting up out of my chair. “No problem. In fact, if you’d like, I can take you to a private room to get a statement from you.”
“Okay, yes, that would be great, thanks,” Jeannette says. A noise comes from outside and she spins around at the sound, but it’s only a truck passing by.
“Come with me,” I tell her, and, grabbing a pad of paper and a pen, take her down the hall to one of our interrogation rooms. Nathan begins struggling again, getting fussy, but before long they’re both inside. The room only has a table with four chairs on opposite sides, two to a side. Jeannette sits down, still bouncing Nathan lightly. I put down my pen and paper at one of the chairs opposite.
“Would you like some coffee before we begin?” I ask her.
“That would be wonderful, thank you,” she says, and I give her a quick smile before leaving the room.
I can’t believe this. This feels like some sort of strange dream. The woman Will Silver was talking about yesterday—the woman and the baby that he wants killed—are here in the police station. And Jeannette says that Craig Silver raped her? Is this why Will Silver wanted her dead? So that she wouldn’t blab?
I have to get her story. And I have to keep her safe. I can’t imagine what would happen if either of them—or the captain, for all I know—were to see the two of us together.
I pour her a cup of coffee and bring it back to the room. When I open the door I see Jeannette holding little Nathan up to her chest, one side of her shirt pulled up, Nathan’s mouth suckling on one of Jeannette’s breasts.
“I’m sorry,” she immediately apologizes. “I hope this is okay. I just know he was going to start crying if I didn’t feed him.”
“That’s fine,” I say, putting her coffee down on the table in front of her and sitting in my own chair. I uncap the pen and position the pad of paper before me. Then I look up at Jeannette. “Okay,” I say. “Starting from the beginning, can you tell me what happened?”
Jeannette takes a breath in through her nose and lets it out.
“It happened a while ago,” she says, and I immediately start to write. “A long while. In October of the year before last. I was walking home from work. It was late and I’d missed the last bus. I’d walked that route so many times, I didn’t think anything of it. It’s a pretty safe neighborhood. But when I was about halfway home an expensive-looking car pulled up beside me and a man—Craig Silver—called out to me.
“He seemed to think I was a prostitute, because he kept asking me how much I charged for the night. I remember he was wearing his jacket from college. I guess he was still going to school there. I told him I wasn’t a prostitute, but he didn’t seem to believe me. He kept pace with me, and kept calling out to me, telling me to get in his car, that he’d give me a lift to wherever I was going.
“I tried ignoring him, but that only made him angry. He started yelling, then. I hoped that someone else around would hear him—he was being so loud—but there was no one else around. Finally he stopped the car and got out. He came around the front and he was staggering. I started to run but he caught me. He was strong, and I remember his eyes were so glassy, his pupils enormous. He looked like he was high on something. And then he … um … that was when he …”
“It’s okay,” I say to her, tasting bile in my throat. “What happened after?”
Jeannette takes another breath and lets it out.
“I honestly can’t remember how I got home. I’m guessing I walked, but my clothes were ripped and he’d left bruises where he hit me. My husband, Allan, was there. I remember at first he was shocked, seeing me like that. I cried and told him what happened. I think I had collapsed at that point, because I remember sitting on the ground when I told him. When I was done he said that we should go to the police and tell them, but I said no. He’s Craig Silver, after all. The son of Will Silver. Any charges we made would only disappear, and then he or Will or both of them might do something bad to us. No, I thought it was best just to leave it alone. So we let it drop.
“It took me a few months, but eventually I recovered from what happened. Mentally, I mean. Allan and I were, um … we were abstaining from sleeping together, at my request. I just couldn’t … it took me a long time before I felt comfortable being touched again. But I also noticed I wasn’t getting my period anymore. At first I thought it was because of stress, but then I started noticing other changes. So one night when Allan wasn’t home I bought a home pregnancy test and took it and it came back positive.
“I told Allan that I was pregnant and he was happy. We both were. It’s not like we were planning on having a child, but we’d talked about it before and we were both okay with the idea of it. But I knew, in the back of my mind and in his … we didn’t know who the child belonged to.”
“Did Craig, um … did he finish inside of you?” I ask, hating the question but knowing it has to be recorded.
“Yes, he did,” Jeannette says. She picks up her mug of coffee and takes a long drink, then puts it back down. “So Allan and I waited, and didn’t really discuss it too much, until Nathan was born. I loved Nathan from the moment they let me see him, but I could tell Allan wasn’t so sure Nathan was his. I remember he was very protective of Nathan, and very moody, which isn’t like Allan at all. Usually he’s—he was—a very sweet man.
“Allan was working for a crime boss at the time, Gil something. He’s the man who died in that restaurant fire last month. I forget his last name.”
“Rivas,” I tell her. “I know about him.”
“Yes, Gil Rivas. Well, Allan was doing small jobs for him while he was looking for something more permanent. He wasn’t mixed up in any of the serious crime stuff, he just did little things, you know? Well, anyway, Allan was getting more and more obsessed with knowing who Nathan’s real father was that he wanted to get a paternity test done. I told him I didn’t care, and that Allan was Nathan’s father regardless. But it wasn’t enough for him.
“Allan knew that Gil kept money at the restaurant and so he stole a little—five hundred dollars. Gil must’ve found out because shortly after, while Nathan and I were upstairs, somebody came and killed Allan. I was taking a nap. I didn’t wake up or hear anything. If I had been awake … if I had been able to come down and stop it …”
Jeannette begins to tear up.
“Hey, shh,” I say to her. “It’s okay. It wasn’t your fault. If you had gone downstairs you might’ve been killed too. And then Nathan wouldn’t have either of you. There was nothing you could do.”
Jeannette dabs at her eyes with her sleeve and sniffs.
“Thank you. I know. I have to keep reminding my
self.”
“How long ago did this happen?” I ask.
Jeannette sniffs wetly again. “June tenth. Almost two months ago.”
I furrow my brow, trying to recall murder reports from two months ago.
“When did you report this? I don’t remember hearing about it.”
“I didn’t report it,” she says.
“What? Why not?”
“Honestly, because I thought I was next. I didn’t want to expose myself any more than I already had. No offense, but I didn’t know if any of the police were in on this too. You can’t be too careful in this city.”
“None taken,” I tell her. “So are you reporting your husband’s murder too?”
“No, I know who did it, but there’s no proof and I don’t want to open up that wound again. I didn’t hear anything, there wasn’t any note, and it didn’t even look like there was any struggle. Nothing was knocked over or … I’m sorry. No. I’m not here to report that.”
“You’re here to report a sexual assault.”
“Yes. Before Allan died we sent in for the paternity test, but they said it could take a while to get back. And then Allan was killed and I honestly couldn’t think about anything else. I forgot about the test. My life was … it’s a miracle I was able to get up in the morning. But the test came back, a couple of weeks ago, and it tested negative for Allan as Nathan’s father, and I haven’t been with anybody else. So it has to have been Craig Silver.
“I didn’t know what to do with that information. It wasn’t as concrete as having Craig Silver’s DNA to compare with, but it was still something. And besides, I didn’t know if anything could have been done. Allan was dead. All I had was Nathan. What was the point in digging up those skeletons from a year ago?
“And then I saw the news today. Will Silver and Craig Silver are teaming up with the police force for something drug-related. I knew it was a sham. Those two men would only do something evil. And that’s what made me decide it. I want to stop them, before they can do any more real damage to this city.
“So here I am. I have proof of Craig Silver’s rape, here in Nathan. The DNA should match and that should prove it. And then Craig will go to jail, and Allan won’t have died in vain.”
I finish writing and look up at Jeannette. She doesn’t look scared anymore. She looks fervent. Ready. Inside my own mind, the ramifications of this charge are already bubbling up. If the DNA matches and Jeannette testifies in court, then Craig could go to jail. That would certainly throw a wrench in their plans, but … but Will Silver would still be out there. And even if something were to happen to him …
Next of kin! The rights to PharmaChem!
It all clicks in my brain, like a puzzle that’s just been solved. Jeannette could claim that Nathan has rights and responsibilities to PharmaChem, after Craig. But if Craig were in jail and Will were gone, then Nathan would have control right away. And since he’s so young, the control would go to Jeannette. And then …
I focus on the woman in front of me as she looks down at her son, switching him from one breast to the other. She could be running PharmaChem. She could be the one to stop all of this bad stuff from happening. All because of her son. She has no idea. So much responsibility falls on her shoulders.
I know what I have to do now. It wouldn’t have made sense before—in fact, before this it would be walking into certain death—but now the way is clear. I just hope to God that it works.
“Okay,” I say to Jeannette, making her look back up at me. “This is a very good and very detailed report. And if you’d like, I can help you through the next steps of what we should do. However, I want you to know this is not going to be the conventional way of doing things.”
“Okay …” Jeannette says.
“Jeannette, with your help, I believe we can take down PharmaChem. I think we can use your testimony to get rid of both Craig Silver and Will Silver, and that could put Nathan in control of the company, following blood lines. That would mean that you would have control until Nathan is eighteen. What do you think? Would you be interested in doing this with me?”
Jeannette sets her jaw and nods.
“Yes,” she says. “If it means taking Craig Silver down, I am definitely interested.”
“Okay,” I say, my heartbeat going crazy. “So what I need you to do right now is keep this a secret. Don’t tell anyone what you told me. Don’t show anyone the results of the paternity test. Just keep that hidden and safe. And stay at home, don’t go anywhere you don’t need to, and always go out in daylight.”
“Um,” Jeannette says. “I don’t know if this means anything, but lately I’ve been … getting the feeling that I’m being watched. When I’m at home. I haven’t seen anyone, but I kind of … this is stupid, but part of me thinks it’s the same person who killed Allan.”
Fuck. “Okay,” I say. “Do you have anywhere else you can go? Where you can stay for a while?”
“Yes, I have a brother. He doesn’t live in town, though. He lives about two hours away.”
“Perfect,” I tell her. “Go there, stay with him. Here”—I pass her the pad of paper and the pen—“write down his information so I can get a hold of you.” She does. “It might not be for a while. A couple of weeks, even. But I’ll get in touch. And until then you have to stay safe. Okay?”
Jeannette finishes writing and looks up at me.
“Okay,” she says.
I smile, and she smiles back, and then I pick up the paper and pen and get up from my chair, Jeannette doing the same.
“All right, we have to get you out of this building,” I say to her. “If the wrong people saw you …”
I go to the window in the door and peer out of it, checking down both hallways. It’s clear, so I open it up and the two of us slip out, Jeannette carrying Nathan.
“This way,” I say, and begin walking briskly down the hall toward the front doors. “Did you drive here?”
“Yes, I parked in the parking lot,” Jeannette says.
If the captain or Will or Craig are there, we’re going to double back and hope they don’t notice us. We could get to the parking lot through the back. Luckily there’s no one in the foyer when we get there, so I go with Jeannette to the front doors and out.
“Where’s your car?” I ask her. Even now I don’t feel safe just leaving her.
“It’s just over there,” she says, pointing to it. We walk there together, and when we arrive Jeannette has trouble holding Nathan as she tries to fish for her keys.
“Here, would you mind?” she asks, and without waiting for an answer she thrusts Nathan in my direction. I take him, surprised, and even though I’ve never held a baby before my arms seem to know exactly where to go. Nathan’s weight fills my hands as I hold him close to me. His little head is so close to mine. He smiles as he looks into my face.
“Here we go,” she says, and she unlocks the car. “Thanks,” as she takes Nathan back. Even though I’d only been holding him for a moment it seems like so much longer. And it felt so right.
“Of course,” I say, a part of me going with Nathan. I watch Jeannette open up the back door and strap Nathan into his car seat. As she does I glance around the parking lot, the immediacy of the current situation coming back to me. If the captain or Will or Craig Silver were to come back right now …
But she gets him strapped in and closes the door. Jeannette turns to me.
“Are you all right?” I ask her.
“Yeah. Yes, I’ll be fine,” she says, giving me a smile. “It’s just that this is all so …”
“I know,” I say. “It’s scary. But it’ll be fine. With your help we’ll definitely do the right thing.”
Jeannette nods. “Thank you, Officer …”
“Pearson,” I tell her. “Trista Pearson.”
Jeannette seems to hesitate for a moment, and then she wraps her arms around me, pulling me into a hug. Again, I’m surprised, but I hug her back. When she lets go her eyes are shining. She gives a lau
gh as she wipes at them.
“Sorry,” she apologizes, and I shake my head.
“No reason to be sorry. But go. Go to your brother and stay with him. I’ll be in touch.”
“Okay. Thank you again,” she says, and she opens up the driver’s-side door and climbs into her car, pulling the door shut behind her. I take a step back and watch as the car starts and pulls out of the parking space. I raise my hand in farewell as she drives away. Then I turn back to the police station. I steel my heart as I walk up to it, this place I’ve called my second home for years, now feeling like a stranger.
Through the front doors and I sit back down at the empty front desk. I take the pad of paper and rip off the sheets containing Jeannette’s story and information. Folding them up, I stick them in my pocket, and then take out my pen and begin writing:
Captain Hartridge,
I’m writing to you to inform you that, effectively immediately, I am quitting my position at the Santa Espera Police Department. I have decided to leave Santa Espera and will no longer be able to work here. I would not like to request a transfer to a different department.
Sincerely,
Trista Pearson
I both sign and print my name and then rip the sheet off. Leaving the pad and pen at the desk, I leave and walk back to my department, to where the captain’s office is. She’s still not here so I leave the note on her desk. As I place the sheet of paper on the mahogany surface I feel elated, lighter, as though a weight has been lifted off of my shoulders. But my work’s not done yet. I still have a few more things to do.
I spot one of my coworkers, Dale, as he’s passing by.
“Dale,” I say, and he stops and looks at me. “I was on front desk but something came up. Can you find a replacement, please?”
“Oh, sure,” he says, and I thank him before walking away. Every step farther from my department, from these corrupt people behind me, is like a step in the right direction. I leave the department, down the hall, past the empty front desk, and then I’m out the front doors, stepping into the brilliant sunlight. My heart is practically singing now. I reach my bike and climb on, kicking it into life.