by Sharon Potts
Elise, he thought. He had to find Elise. He stashed his backpack and jacket behind a column, the abrupt movements causing momentary dizziness. How long had it been since he’d slept?
“May I help you?” The voice was deep with a hint of accent. Enrique Castillo, tall and stiff.
Jeremy straightened up.
“My God. Jeremy.” Enrique Castillo held him by the shoulders. “I didn’t recognize you.”
“I just got in. I didn’t—”
“I’m so, so sorry, Jeremy. What a shock for all of us. Your uncle said he didn’t know how to get in touch with you. No address. No phone. You weren’t responding to e-mails.”
“I—” Jeremy coughed to clear his throat. “I was in Portugal.”
“Yes. Your uncle said you finally checked your e-mail yesterday morning. That you’d be here in time for the services. But then we heard you wouldn’t.” Enrique stroked his silver beard. “I suggested we have everyone gather here. Your parents’ house— well, you understand. It didn’t seem suitable.”
“I’d like to see my sister,” Jeremy said, wincing at the sharpness in his own voice.
“Of course,” Enrique Castillo said, “of course.”
The living room was an extension of the white. Jeremy blinked from the glare of light bouncing off the bay through the French doors. He reached for the back of a chair to keep from falling. There were people everywhere, but they were backlit and their faces no more than shadows. His friends wouldn’t be among them. Chris was with the Peace Corps in Zambia, and Ben was hiking in Machu Picchu. The others he had grown apart from, and besides, they’d all migrated to New York and the West Coast. Jeremy was alone.
The dark bulk of a woman with flying blonde hair was hurrying toward him. “Jeremy. My God. You’re here.” Liliam Castillo squeezed his arm. “We’re so sorry, Jeremy.”
“Thank you.” He tried to pull away, but she held fast. “Excuse me, Mrs. Castillo, but I really need to find my sister.”
“Elise?” She glanced around the room. Her blonde hair covered one eye. “She was sitting on the sofa with your grandfather a short while ago. But your grandfather went home. He wasn’t well. I wonder where she’s gone. Perhaps with Carlos.” She pressed her fingers deeper into Jeremy’s arm. “He was the first one there, you know. My Carlos. He could have been killed himself.” She crossed herself with her other hand. “He’d walked Elise home. He knew something was wrong as soon as they stepped into the house. And Carlos pulled Elise outside and ran to get the security guard.”
“My uncle said it was a burglary. A surprised burglar who wasn’t expecting anyone to be home.”
“Is that what Dwight told you?”
Jeremy’s heart was racing. “The burglar thought they had a gun, so he shot them. Wasn’t that what happened?”
She released Jeremy’s arm. “Of course. I’m sorry, Jeremy. I’m not myself. Let me get you a drink and something to eat.”
Jeremy sensed a blur of movement around him. Everything surreal. It had been a foiled burglary. What else could it have been? People touched his shoulder, shook his hand, hugged him. And Jeremy nodded as they mumbled things. Told him how great his parents had been, what a tragedy, what a shock.
Right, he thought, grateful for the numbness that had settled over him when he had first learned the news. Wondering how he would survive when the numbness dissipated. Searching the room for his sister.
A stout, ugly man in a wrinkled suit and bow tie was staring at him. He looked familiar. One of his mother’s business partners.
Someone was talking to Jeremy. A southern accent. “I know you must be overwhelmed,” said the large man. He had a puffy face with small, alert eyes. His mother’s other partner. “But I wanted to tell you,” he continued, “as well as I knew your mama, I feel like you and your sister are family to me. And if there’s anything I can do, you call me, y’hear?”
“Thank you,” Jeremy said. “Thank you.” The voices in the room got louder, softer, like someone was playing with the volume.
Liliam Castillo was hurrying toward Jeremy with a platter of food and a bottle of beer. “Here you are, Jeremy.”
“Excuse me,” Jeremy said. “I have to find my sister.”
He pushed through the crowd. Where had all these people come from? It seemed as though they were multiplying before his eyes. Their voices bounced off the floors, echoed against the high ceilings, and reverberated in his head. He bumped into a young woman with short black hair and intense blue eyes.
“You’re Jeremy, aren’t you?” she said. Her eyes and nose were red. “I worked with your mother. She was—”
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I really need to go.” Air. Beyond the French doors, the sun was setting, covering the sky and bay with bands of pink like smeared blood. A yacht at the end of the dock rocked gently, making Jeremy queasy.
It had happened. It had really happened.
Jeremy hurried toward the water. The smell of fish and brine overwhelmed him. He puked into the bay.
In the distance, a horn bellowed. The sky had turned red.
My mother and father, he thought. My mother and father are dead.
Chapter 2
His house. The house he’d grown up in. The house where his parents had been murdered.
Not his house anymore.
Jeremy stood in the front foyer, his backpack over one shoulder, dropping the new key his uncle had left for him on the foyer table. Breathing caused a physical pain as though his ribs were in a vise. It was the first time he’d been home in a year, since he’d left for Europe. The last time, he’d also stood here, in this very spot. His mother had offered to drive him to the airport, but he told her he’d already called a cab. “I understand why you have to go, Jeremy. But remember, your father and I will always be here for you.”
Always?
The house was quiet. Too quiet. “Elise,” he called. He didn’t think she’d come here alone, but maybe she had. He had borrowed someone’s phone at the Castillos’ and tried Elise’s cell, but it had been turned off. So he’d left word that he was going home if anyone saw her. All he could do now was wait.
Geezer was at the top of the stairwell, tail wagging. The sight of his dog was so unexpected that once again Jeremy thought he’d gotten it wrong somehow. That it had been just a cruel trick.
Geezer hurried down the steps, going as fast as he could with his hind legs dragging behind him. He licked Jeremy’s hands and face.
“Hey, boy. What are you doing here? Who’s been feeding you? Walking you?”
Geezer seemed to be okay. But now he was sniffing the air, running from room to room, looking for something. For someone.
It was no trick. It had happened. But although Jeremy’s brain told him otherwise, he wasn’t all that different from the dog, his senses also poised to hear or see his parents in the next moment.
He was drawn to his father’s office, adjacent to the foyer. A working office, with bookshelves filled to overflowing and dozens of classical cassette tapes piled high beside the old cassette player he’d had since college. When Jeremy was a kid, his dad would roll back his desk chair to see who had come in when the front door opened. Then he’d smile up at Jeremy. “So, did you beat ’em?” he’d ask, even if Jeremy wasn’t coming from a game. Or even if he was, and his dad had no idea who he’d been playing against, or whether it was basketball, soccer, or lacrosse. An inside joke. “So, did you beat ’em?” But now there was no rattle of rolling wheels over the plastic floor protector.
Geezer had returned to the foyer and lain down in front of the entranceway table, his sorrowful eyes fixed on Jeremy. The vase, always filled with fresh flowers, was empty.
Jeremy carried his backpack up the stairs. The door to his parents’ bedroom was closed. He couldn’t remember it ever being closed. His mother liked to leave it open a few inches so she could hear Jeremy and Elise coming and going. It used to annoy Jeremy, this overprotectiveness of hers. He hesitated, his hand on the do
orknob. He couldn’t go in there. He might never be able to go in there.
Jeremy went down the hallway, turned on the light in his childhood bedroom, and dropped his backpack on the floor. The room hadn’t changed, same deep blue comforter and navy carpet, posters from different phases of his life covering the walls— rock stars, cars, sexy girls. A collection of empty beer bottles from around the world lined the shelf above his desk. He was surprised the room was clean, dusted, but it smelled funny. Like stale cigarette smoke.
He sat down on his desk chair. This was where his parents assumed he did his homework, but mostly he daydreamed and surfed the Net. He’d gotten the big, clumsy computer when he was thirteen— almost ten years ago. It was a 600 Mega Hertz Pentium III and Jeremy had thought it was the coolest, fastest machine ever. But today the machine was a dinosaur. He wondered why his parents hadn’t gotten rid of it. But they were like that. They kept up with the latest in technology, but never could part with the old.
And then it hit him again like a punch to his abdomen. His parents didn’t need to keep up with technology. They were dead. His mother and father were dead.
He rested his head on his folded arms, trying to block it. Trying to breathe despite this unbearable pain. Don’t focus on the negatives, Jeremy, his mother always said. Think about something positive.
Positive? Oh God. Mom, Dad, how could you leave me like this?
He jerked his head up. He must have fallen asleep. Jumbled voices were coming from downstairs.
“Jeremy?”
Jeremy’s heart almost ripped through his chest at the sound of his father’s voice.
“Jeremy, are you up there?”
And then he collected himself. Not his father. His uncle Dwight.
Jeremy went downstairs and into the kitchen. His aunt Selma was putting platters of food and casserole dishes into the refrigerator.
“Hey, Aunt Selma.” He kissed her cheek.
“Jeremy,” she said, holding him tight. “Oh Jeremy.” She was very skinny with white-blonde hair like cotton candy, and she had always been nice to Jeremy and Elise in the unnatural way some childless people were with kids.
“Ah, Jeremy. Here you are,” Dwight said, coming from the direction of the guest bedroom. He gave Jeremy an awkward hug, pulling away quickly. “We’re so sorry, Jeremy. What a tragedy for all of us. My big brother. I still can’t believe it. Thank God my parents aren’t alive to witness—”
“You should have waited, Dwight.”
“Waited?” His uncle cocked his head. He looked like a warped version of Jeremy’s father.
“The memorial services. I should have been there.”
“But we did wait, Jeremy. We waited as long as we could. I had to make a judgment call. I couldn’t tell when your flight would finally get in and everyone was already there.” He pulled on his thin mustache. “I couldn’t very well ask people to leave and come back another time.”
“They were my parents. I should have been there.”
“Yes, you should have.” His uncle’s voice rose with the same clipped intonation his father’s had. “And maybe if you’d checked your e-mails. Or maybe if you hadn’t gone off in the first place—”
“Dwight,” Selma rested her hand on his arm. “Please don’t.”
Dwight pulled his arm away. “You think you’re the only one affected by this, Jeremy? The only one that’s suffering? He was my brother, damn it. My big brother. He taught me how to ride a bike, for chrissake. How to throw a ball. You don’t think that I’m devastated by what’s happened?”
“I don’t know, Dwight. I honestly don’t know.”
“Jeremy,” Aunt Selma said. “Please, honey. You don’t know what you’re saying. You’re upset.”
Jeremy was trembling. “You’re right.” He took a deep breath. “Where’s Elise? Is she okay?”
Dwight shook his head and took a sandwich off a platter on the counter.
“She hasn’t been herself,” said Aunt Selma.
“She’s as unfathomable as you,” Dwight said. “Won’t talk to us. Won’t eat with us. Locks herself in the guest room or goes for long walks.”
“Wait,” Jeremy said. “Guest room? What are you talking about?”
“She’s been staying with your aunt and me at our apartment.”
“What?”
“Where did you think she was? The police only released the house from crime scene a couple of days ago. And then we had to get a clean-up crew in here.”
Jeremy tried to block that last remark. “I figured she was with my grandfather.”
“He can’t cope with a teenager.”
Damn. Jeremy had assumed Elise and their grandfather had been together. How had they gotten through this past week? “She can stay here with me tonight,” Jeremy said.
“That’s fine with me.” Dwight threw the half-eaten sandwich in the sink.
Geezer had followed Jeremy downstairs. He sniffed Selma and Dwight, then went to lie down in the front foyer. “I wasn’t expecting the dog to be here,” Dwight said.
“Who’s been taking care of him?” Jeremy asked.
“The housekeeper,” Selma said. “I forget her name. She had him at her place for a few days, but no pets are allowed there, so she brought him back here after the police left. She’s been feeding and walking him twice a day. ”
“Flora,” Jeremy said. “Her name’s Flora.”
“Of course,” Selma said. There was a smudge of lipstick on her chin. “She seems like a nice person.”
His uncle had gone over to the liquor cabinet in the adjacent family room and was pouring himself a glass of Scotch. “Not everyone would be willing to work at a house where there’d been—”
“Have a sandwich, Jeremy,” his aunt said. “The Castillos wanted you to have this food. There was a lot more, but I didn’t think it would fit in the fridge.”
Dwight held up the bottle. “Want some, Jeremy?”
“No thanks.”
Dwight took a sip. “Listen, Jeremy. I know you and I never got along well, but in times of crisis, we need to work together.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Whatever our past differences, I’m still your uncle. I want what’s best for you and Elise.”
“That’s a bit of a change from when our parents were alive.”
“Your father and I had a few issues. But that doesn’t mean he and I didn’t love each other. And now, I feel responsible for you and Elise.”
“I can take care of myself.”
“Well, Elise then.” His uncle rested his glass on the counter. “We need to think about what’s best for her.”
Elise. Jeremy’s chest tightened at the thought of her. Alone this past week. Without their grandfather. Without Jeremy.
“Tonight you’ll be here at the house with her, but what about tomorrow? I need to know your plans, Jeremy. Selma and I have to make arrangements.”
“I don’t know my plans.”
“So you don’t know when you’ll be going back to Puerto Rico?”
“Portugal. I was in Portugal.”
“That’s right. It’s hard keeping up with you in your virtual world. No wonder your father was so aggravated. You don’t call home. You don’t respond to e-mails. Don’t you think of anyone but yourself?”
“Please, Dwight,” Selma said. “There’s no reason for this.”
“You’re right. I’m sorry. I haven’t slept much.” Dwight ran his fingers through his thinning hair. “I’ve been trying to hold everything together. The funeral arrangements, your sister, the police.”
“What about the police? Have they found anything? Do they have a suspect?”
“I talked to the lead detective for a bit,” Dwight said. “Detective Kuzniski. Seems like a good guy. Anyway, Kuzniski says they’re homing in on someone.”
“Give me Kuzniski’s number. I want to talk to him.”
Dwight reached into his wallet and handed Jeremy a business card. “Don’t
take this the wrong way, Jeremy. I know how you feel right now, but there’s really no point in your getting involved with the police.”
“You don’t know anything about how I feel.”
“Sure I do. You’re angry, frustrated, ineffectual. I feel the same way myself.”
“Your parents didn’t just get killed, Dwight. You couldn’t possibly feel like I do.”
“Jeremy, Jeremy, why are you fighting me? I’m not your enemy. I’m just trying to help. You’ll be gone soon, then what? You think you can rush through here like a tornado, then leave when you’re bored? What about Elise? What happens to her?”
“I’ll work things out with my grandfather. Either he’ll come live here or Elise will move into his house.”
“Your grandfather?” Dwight said. “Why would you do that?”
“Because he’s Elise’s guardian.”
“Maybe you should have a look at your parents’ will.”
It seemed to Jeremy that Dwight was holding back a smile, but he must have been imagining it.
The front door opened and slammed shut. Jeremy recognized his sister’s voice murmuring to the dog.
“What are you talking about, Dwight?”
“Your parents entrusted your aunt Selma and me with Elise’s guardianship.” Dwight took a sip of his Scotch. “And we have no intention of letting them down.”
Chapter 3
Elise rushed into the kitchen and threw herself into Jeremy’s arms.
He held her. Just held her. He couldn’t speak if he wanted to. His sister. His baby sister. “You must always take care of her,” his mother had said, placing the newborn infant in his arms. It had been terrifying holding her. What if he dropped her? He wasn’t even seven. How could he take care of his sister?
“Where’ve you been, Elise?” Dwight asked, assuming an authority that he had no right to. He was full of shit about the guardianship. Jeremy’s parents would never have left Elise in Dwight’s care.
Elise buried her face deeper against Jeremy’s chest.