by Haven Rose
I can’t shake the feeling that something happened to Joy, and it wasn’t as we were told. The vision of her as Ruby and I said our final good-byes won’t leave me. I know she’d been hurt in the accident, but I’d overheard someone in the funeral home talking about just how badly the injuries were. Things I was never told. She had broken ribs, cuts, and what seemed like rope burns around her wrists.
I’ve decided to stop in the morgue and ask to see Joy’s file. They may not show it to me, but I must try. I have questions, and a lot of them now, and if someone is responsible for what happened to her I want to know, I want to make them pay for what they’ve done. I want them to suffer. I’m not normally a violent person, but they stole my wife from me, my daughter’s mother from her, and I want them to hurt, to feel all the pain we have and know what they’ve done, the consequences of their actions.
The coroner happens to be an old friend from school, Todd ironically enough, the guy who led to me realizing how I felt about Joy all those years ago. He expressed his sorrow for my loss and offered to help anyway he could. He had some interesting things to share and was shocked no one had mentioned anything to me before. Yes, Joy had injuries, ones he didn’t believe were from the accident, and when he mentioned them, his concerns were brushed off.
I spoke with Silas, the officer who was with Joy when she passed, and he said he couldn’t find her file, but remembered everything about that night. I told him what I’d learned at the coroner, not mentioning any names but everyone knows who works where in this town, and he nodded, obviously having noted the same things when he saw her. But again, just like Todd, he said his findings were brushed off, though he can’t remember exactly by who. He seemed nervous, as if there was something he wanted to tell me but couldn’t. I don’t doubt Silas in any way, seeing his sadness as he talks about that day, and knowing he was with my wife when she took her last breath, that has to stay with you, leaving a mark on your heart. I’m beginning to think someone is covering up the truth and I need to know why.
I know I’m getting closer to finding out what happened, but I’ve noticed strange things happening as well, and I can’t help but think it’s connected to my digging. I must stop, though it pains me to do so. The most precious thing in my life, aside from when my Joy was alive, may be in danger because of me and I refuse to allow that to happen. I’m sorry, my love, but I can’t find justice for you, I can’t avenge you just yet. Maybe as more time has passed, and our precious jewel can be protected in more ways, I’ll try again.
Ruby was in shock as her brain tried to process what she was reading, and she hadn’t even looked over everything yet. Her dad had a theory, starting a few years after they lost her mom that it wasn't an accident. He was very thorough, even writing down any possible alternatives, then his facts disputing them. Even with her admittedly limited knowledge regarding situations like this, she had to agree he made some very valid points. I can’t help but wonder if the last one refers to me. Was someone threatening me, so my dad would stop? That wasn’t the scariest question of all though, something else held that title.
Was my mom murdered?
Chapter Four
Ruby
The next day...
Still reeling from what she discovered, Ruby was unable to sleep the night before, and instead looked over everything once again, using the copies she'd made so she could return the notebook before her dad came home.
She knew she'd been quiet during dinner and had forced herself to act as she normally would. Thankfully, he didn't comment on her behavior, and that was probably only because he was tired from his trip.
Determined to do better this morning, she put the papers away before taking a shower. The quick blast of cold water before it warmed up was quite a wake-up call. She did her hair and applied a little makeup to camouflage her sleepless night before heading downstairs. Coffee was going to be her constant companion today.
Surprisingly, her dad was already awake, and breakfast was started, Boots at his feet hoping for a piece of tasty goodness to magically find its way into his mouth. It happens a lot, so his chances are good.
"Morning, Dad. I figured you'd still be asleep."
"Hey, Ruby girl." Then he chuckles as he says, "I thought I would be too. It was only two nights, but nothing beats sleeping in your own bed. I woke up refreshed and decided to do the cooking as a thank you for helping me out at the shop."
"Dad, you know I'm always happy to. You don't need to thank me every time."
"But I'm going to..."
"Anyway," I finished for him.
We both laughed as he plated our food and set it on the table. I grabbed the coffee and orange juice and sat down just as he did.
As we ate, we talked about his visit and my Uncle Joseph, and he asked about the store and wondered what happened while he was gone. I couldn't resist a smirk, because yeah, I'd overheard the gossip, sorry, the friendly talk. "The Sheriff hired a guy from New Haven, I believe it was. He's renting from Mr. Johnson and should be moved in before June. I went to campus and took my final, so I now only have one class before I graduate."
"That's great, sweetie. About you, not the new deputy, though I'm sure the Sheriff can use the help. What have you got planned for the day?"
"Well, now that I'm free from the hardware store," I tease before continuing "I wanted to get a few things done around the house, work on some accounts, and maybe go to the bookstore."
He just laughs as he asks, "You have two e-readers, so why take the time to go there?"
"As much as I love having thousands of books at my fingertips, there's just something about the smell of a book, holding it in my hands, and the sound of the pages as you turn them. It’s a bookworm thing, Dad, you wouldn't understand."
He just shakes his head at me, but he knows I'm right. I got my love of reading from my mom, Dad preferring to watch something instead, unless it was my bedtime story when I was younger.
We finish eating then begin loading the dishwasher as he tells me about his trip and plans for the day. We go our separate ways afterward, him to work and me to follow through on the items I'd mentioned earlier. However, there is a slight deviation. Yes, I'm going to the bookstore as planned, but the reason was one I couldn't talk to him about, at least not yet. I was hoping to find some books that would help me as I started looking into my mom's possible murder.
Chapter Five
Ryan
Two days later...
When he wasn't working, Ryan spent all his time calling the utility companies to let them know when to turn off his service, packing, deciding what he needed for his new place and ordering it, changing his address with all his accounts and the post office, and the thirty other things that popped up as he went along. He also visited his parents as much as he could. He knew they'd only be a few hours away, but it wouldn't be the same.
One less worry was that his colleague and landlord had come to an agreement and he'd be moving in within a week of Ryan leaving. Ironically, that same man had also taken and passed the detective's test and would be Deacon's new partner, so Ryan was going over their open cases with him, ensuring he was up to speed.
Also, and one of his least favorite parts of the job, was testifying as needed regarding their arrests. He knew he'd probably have to return for more recent ones though.
The hard part had been telling Deacon he had accepted a new position and was moving. They'd been partners for a couple years, becoming detectives at the same time and getting paired together. It wasn't long before he and Deacon, a year younger than him, had started hanging out away from work, which lead to them becoming best friends.
Deacon, apart from his friendship with me, is a loner. His rough childhood impacted him deeply, resulting in Deacon keeping his distance from everyone. Ryan didn't know a lot about it, only that his dad had been an abusive asshole that constantly cheated on his mom, not even bothering to hide it. Deacon spent years trying to convince her to leave, but his dad had torn her down
so much she didn't realize she was strong enough to get away from him. Deacon had told him once, after quite a few beers, that living that way, seeing how his mom was treated and it being labeled as love, he didn't want anything to do with it. He preferred to be alone and has maintained that conviction his whole life, no women in his past at all. As he and I are on the same level experience wise, as in neither having any, we'd also bonded over it, knowing how rare that was. We're like unicorns.
Last year, I finally got him to stop making excuses and meet my parents. He was nervous, assuming they'd be like his, and couldn't contain his surprise upon being welcomed with a hug and a handshake, the former my mom's doing of course. I knew their obvious love for one another would help him see that not every relationship was like his parents'. My dad doted on my mom and vice versa.
After we left, Deacon thanked me for making him go, saying it had given him a lot to think about. Ryan couldn't help but hope it made Deacon open to the possibility that there was a woman out there for him.
There was one thing on Ryan's list that he was completing the day before he left. He was getting a dog. He hadn't before, knowing with the hours he worked it wouldn't be fair, but now that they'd be more normal, Ryan wasn't waiting any longer.
Chapter Six
Ruby
Two days later…
Well, my trip to the bookstore was a bust. Yes, I did buy a few books. I’m a bookworm, I’m always going to find something to read, but not any like I’d specifically gone looking for. Which, thinking back on my idea, I realize it wasn’t my best. Did I really think they’d have that kind of stuff? And besides, what would I even look for? Your Mom May Have Been Murdered…10 Steps Toward the Truth or Investigating Clues for Dummies…What You Need to Know to Solve a Crime or maybe, The Guide to Understanding Your Dad’s Secret Notebook. I feel like such an idiot. But, in my defense, the things I had read were quite shocking and I wasn’t thinking straight. I don’t think anyone could after a bomb of knowledge like that.
So, thinking a little smarter, I went through it all again, page by page, as well as any information I could find online, and made my own notes. Hoping to find something I could use to prove my dad’s theory wrong, instead, I still agree with him. I also, upon looking through his desk drawer more while he was at work, found some papers I hadn’t seen the day I discovered the notebook. My dad had written down as much as he could remember from the last few months of my mom’s life, he was so thorough he even mentioned a man that had stopped into the hardware store hoping to get directions. He said he’d seen my dad’s display advertising my mom’s accounting business, and, after asking a few questions about her experience, had taken a card, saying he’d give her a call. My dad also noted he didn’t particularly care for the man, finding him smarmy, but wrote it off as his “I’m better than you” attitude. Though I do see a quick notation in the corner, as if dad had a last-minute thought, stating the man seemed a little familiar, but he couldn’t place why.
Among them was the police report, but it didn’t appear complete. The officer on record, Silas Jackson, has since retired, but I think he’s only a town or two over. I wonder if I’d be able to speak to him about that night and his thoughts on it.
I need to talk to someone I trust about this, and my dad is of course out because of the subject. I want to go over everything I found, to lay it all out, along with my added thoughts and get a second, unbiased opinion. Only one person comes to mind, and though he is connected to the case because of how it impacts me, he isn’t directly emotionally involved like my dad and I. Bobby did suggest getting coffee soon...
I check the time on my phone, even though I have on a watch and glancing at it would make so much more sense and figure I may just catch him in between classes.
I thumb threw my contacts until I find “Bug” and hit call.
He answers right away, cheerfully calling out “Rubik’s.”
“Hey, Bobby. I was calling to see if you’re ready to meet up for coffee.”
“What’s wrong, Ruby?”
How does he know? And I know he does, he isn’t just guessing, because not only did he call me by my actual name, but I can hear the concern in his voice. This is one of the many reasons he’s my best friend. He knows me like no one else and is always there for anybody he calls friend. Though I know our friendship may change as we both grow older and eventually find the people we’ll spend our lives with, I hope with everything in me he’ll always be a part of my life. He’s the brother I never had, the one of my heart, and I wouldn’t be who I was now without his presence in my life all these years. He helped me after we lost my mom, never wavering in his determination to be there, even if we just sat in silence, or I cried until all the moisture in my body had dried up, or, and this really happened one time, I just screamed into the night, unable to contain myself any longer, the anger I felt at my mom being taken away ripping out of me. What did Bobby do? Did he look at me like I was crazy? No. Did he leave me alone to wallow in my grief? No. He stood right beside me, my hand in his, and screamed just as loudly, trying to help me get all the pain out, hoping the healing could start. This was within the first six months of my mom’s death, and honestly, the screaming was the most cathartic one out of all of those.
I just whispered his name, the emotions of all I’d learned finally hitting me. “Bobby.”
“Ruby, what is going on? What can I do? I’m on my way now. Do you want to meet at Bean There, or your house?”
I couldn’t answer. All I could do was cry.
“You’re scaring me, Rubes. My last class was cancelled so I was already on my way home. I’m only about thirty minutes away. I’ll see you soon. Please say something so I know you’re okay.”
“Thank you.”
Then the phone went dead in my ear, and I knew he’d drive as fast as he possibly could, willingly risking getting pulled over, because that’s what friends do.
Twenty-five minutes later, Bobby was pulling into the driveway, his tires squealing as he made the turn. He quickly parked and rushed over to me, enveloping me in a brotherly hug. We stayed that way for a few minutes, me just absorbing the comfort, knowing he’d help me figure out what had happened, and how I needed to continue my quest to get to that point.
He just sat there, hands clenched as I explained everything I found, through my dad and on my own, until finally, an hour after he arrived, I’d purged it all out.
“I don’t know what to say. Your dad makes a very compelling point. There are some discrepancies. I’ve seen a few over the years with dad being the sheriff, and you’re right, the report is missing some details.”
Unsure what Bobby meant, but both thankful and sad I was correct, I hesitated a moment, preparing myself, before asking, “What do you mean?”
Bobby looked at me, and I could tell it was going to be bad, then said, “This has my dad’s name stating he reviewed it as the senior officer, which is standard procedure, but…this isn’t his signature. Also, it looks like more than one person filled this out, which shouldn’t be the case. It should have the investigating officer’s handwriting, and only my dad’s signature.”
Wanting to make sure I understood him correctly, I asked, “So, what you’re saying is, there’s at least three different types of handwriting, and there should only be two?”
“Yes, which means, someone else added or took away some information, and though we don’t know if it was before or after my dad supposedly signed it, if you look closely, that handwriting seems very similar to the one used to forge my dad’s name.”
My brain was working overtime to process what Bobby just said, and though it hurt to think someone I’ve more than likely known my whole life could do such a thing, the facts were staring me right in the face.
“My mom may have been murdered, and chances are we know the person that did it. They’ve looked me and my dad in the face all these years, knowing what they did, and haven’t shown an ounce of remorse. Who does that? How can someone
live with themselves, aware of the fact they’re responsible for taking a loved one away? For cutting their life short, and then carrying on with theirs as if nothing happened?”
“I don’t know, Rubes. It’s difficult for us to understand because we aren’t wired that way, but for some, it’s as easy as breathing.”
Chapter Seven
Two days later…
He knew this call wasn’t going to be entirely pleasant, if at all, but it needed to be made. So, with that thought in mind, he dialed the number he knew almost as well as his own.
He heard the phone being picked up, along with slight breathing, but nothing was said, and he knew it was because the other person was being cautious.
“It’s me.” He figured he’d let him know it was safe to talk.
“Why are you calling this late?”
“We’ve got a problem.”
“What kind of problem?”
“Joy Monroe’s daughter has started asking questions.”
“Did something happen? Did you let something slip to one of your women friends?”
“Of course not! It could be nothing, just simple curiosity about her mom, and it’ll fade away. It’s probably because the date we got rid of our little problem was a couple days ago.”
“You better hope so, for both our sakes.”
“I told you I’d take care of it here and I did. The report shows she lost control, just like we talked about.”
“I know you said there’d be no issues, but what about the cop that actually wrote the real report?”