by Jason Davis
He heard the beep of the phone just as he entered the kitchen. It felt ten degrees cooler than the rest of the house, his bare feet on the linoleum floor sending a cold shiver through him.
“Who was that?” he asked, looking longingly at the coffee pot on the counter behind her. She already had some in her cup. The slogan on it was easily readable, the mischievous devil smiling. Queen B Devil woman. Approach with care.
She glared at him over the rim of her cup, silently telling him he could go for his own cup of coffee, but he might lose a hand in the attempt.
“You’ve had quite a few phone calls this morning,” she said. She stepped away from the counter and moved over to stand by the kitchen table. She wasn’t going to sit, which told him there was still some tension in the air, but at least she got out of the way of the coffee machine.
He had spent way too many years around this woman and too many years as a cop to know he was probably analyzing things way too much. But he had to, right?
He nodded his gratitude at her for moving and grabbed his own cup. His usual coffee mug, World’s Greatest Dad, seemed to be missing, so he had to grab just a standard cup.
“Oh?” he asked as he poured himself some.
The phone rang as in answer. She didn’t even look at it, just hit the button and handed it to him. He set down his coffee, frustrated he hadn’t had a chance to take a sip first.
“Hello?”
“Hey, Rob.”
It was a soft-spoken voice he recognized, but couldn’t quite place.
“Hey,” he finally said, pushing past his ignorance.
“I need to talk to you. Can you meet me at the café in an hour?”
“Sure.”
He didn’t have to ask which café. In Standard, there was only one diner, one fast food place, and two gas stations. The gas stations were separated…one was the “truck stop” and the other was the “gas station”. Rob had learned that name brands and recognition mattered little in this town, unless you were talking about bars and churches. Churches were known by denomination, but bars were important. Everyone knew the bars by name.
He never remembered whom he was talking to before he heard the click and the line went dead. He would just have to show up at the café to find out.
He set down the phone and started making his coffee. Now it was Robyn’s turn to be curious.
“Who was that?” she asked.
Rob shrugged. “Not sure.” He turned toward her. “So I have messages?”
She nodded. “Don’t worry about driving sewage anymore.”
“Shit!”
“Nope. Not anymore.” She smirked as he looked at her, the horror of losing their primary source of income evident on his face. “Mark says he needs to find a more reliable driver. He’s covering again today and he wasn’t too happy about it.”
“I bet.”
“Also, the county guys called. You need to call them back, and Father William wants you to stop by later.”
“Great. He probably wants to pray with me to help find the missing children.”
He wasn’t sure when she had crossed the room…until he felt the smack on the back of his head. It wasn’t anything hard. Just a playful little whack that reminded him she hated when he joked about a man of God. He couldn’t help but laugh as he turned and brought the coffee up to his lips.
“Robert Chase Alletto, you need to watch that tongue.”
“Yes, ma’am,”he said playfully.
Over the past few years, Robyn had gotten more and more religious. She had always been spiritual, but ever since the strange shit that happened, she was more into it. Rob hoped he didn’t lose her to it. He just couldn’t ever see himself being that devoted. Pastor Thomas was a nice guy and was friendly to Rob, but he could just never fully grasp everything in the Bible. There were too many names and, other than the story about Jesus, it was too hard to follow.
He had that flash of bare breasts in his face again.
His coffee spurted back up through his nose. Coughing, he bent over, the cup falling from his hand, crashing to the floor.
Robyn rushed over and started pounding on his back. “You okay?”
“Wrong tube,” he gasped out, pushing down the images.
"That's not what I mean, Rob."
He cleared his throat. It still burned, but he was able to push the choking feeling away. He looked into those beautiful eyes he used to just gaze into when they were head over heels for each other. He saw her concern.
"I'm fine."
"Really?"
She didn't believe him, but that was okay. He didn’t believe himself. Right now, he wasn’t sure he felt anything. He should be concerned about those missing kids, and now there was a dead body. Just because Jake was found once didn’t mean he would be found the next time…
He felt lightheaded, like he wasn’t getting enough air. He needed to breathe, get the coffee out of his lungs. His head swam as too many thoughts flooded through him. He coughed some more, trying to expel the rest of the liquid.
Then the tears came. He pushed them away, swiping at them with his hand. It was as if the pressure he had felt before faded, none of it seeming to matter anymore. That was what he told himself anyway, but tears kept slipping from him. He wasn’t sure if they were for Jake, the missing kids, or his former boss. On the surface, he felt nothing, which was the problem.
So... Maybe he wasn't okay.
Maybe it had something to do with Jake’s disappearance. When Rob thought he had lost him, everything changed. He had felt something so much worse than he ever thought possible. There was a part of him that felt like it had been ripped out, and this nothingness had pulled him to want nothing more than to get his son back.
After he found him, he was so relieved, nothing else mattered. He was home with his wife and son. He never wanted any of them to ever leave again. They were home, they were safe, and he was there to protect them.
It was a dream he wished could be possible. Why did what he want always conflict with actual life’s demands?
Robyn broke into his thoughts. “I got a call from Sarah.”
“Oh?”
“I had asked her if there was anything I could do at home, over the phone, so I wouldn’t have to drive into the city.”
“She called you or you called her?”
“I called her last week.”
He nodded. Sarah was an old friend of Robyn’s from school. They had both gone into counseling, but Robyn had given it up years ago. The stress had gotten to her. It wasn’t an easy job, listening to people who often wanted to kill themselves, dealing with people’s addictions. It was a job where you had to help people deal with the worst in their lives.
It had nearly pushed Robyn down a dark path. She had started drinking. It was just a little at first. It was easy to write off drinking one glass of wine a day, but it soon got worse. The glasses got larger, then it went from one glass to two.
Jake was only two, but her hours were flexible. Then she started not going in as much, sometimes having a glass of wine to take the edge off before work. At lunch, she’d have another.
Rob had seen what was happening, but didn’t say anything. He had been happy when he got that nice little pay raise that allowed her to quit. Yeah, they would never get ahead, but it was better than watching her lose herself. He had tons of respect for anyone in that field, but the last thing he wanted was his wife fighting her own demons to deal with it.
“You called her? Everything okay?” Had Robyn started drinking again and he didn’t notice? When he saw her brows crease at his meaning, he wished he had been more tactful. Whether or not it stung because it was true, he wasn’t sure.
“Yeah… No… It was just... ” She paused, turning away to pour herself another cup of coffee, not wanting to face him. “You’re not a truck driver. You can’t go on doing that. You’re a cop, and will always be a cop. You know the man in you won’t allow you to do what they need to do to make ends meet past the
season.”
Rob knew what she was talking about. While the other drivers he had worked with tried to stay quiet around him, knowing he was a cop, there were others he came into contact with who didn’t know what his other job was. Once the sewage contract was up, the stuff they had to do to survive was not legal. It was a small company using paper logs, which were easy to fake. Robyn knew Rob would never put himself in danger of risking the job he loved by forging a legal document.
“So I asked Sarah if there were any counseling jobs she knew about that I could do at home.”
“And?”
“There’s a late-night substance abuse hotline that can route the calls here. It doesn’t pay much, but I would be the supervisor, listening in randomly and helping people through tough, sticky situations.”
He could feel that tightening of his chest. He didn’t want her doing that again. There had to be some other way.
When the phone rang, they both looked at it, neither of them moving. Finally, with an audible sigh, she leaned forward and grabbed it, holding it out to him.
“We need the money,” she said softly.
“Not that badly.”
“Yes, we do…”
He slowly took the phone from her and pressed to answer it, bringing it to his ear as he watched her face take on a pained expression.
“And I think you need counseling.”
“Wait... What?”
She didn’t answer as she turned, walking into the living room.
They needed counseling? Was their marriage hitting that point? How could he not have seen it? Or was he the reason for it? He knew she was upset with him, but that was just from last night. Sure, he shouldn’t have put his son in that position, but how could she jump right to thinking they needed counseling?
Damn woman. Why did she run off? We need to talk about this shit.
“Hello?”
He heard a voice in the background.
“Hello?” he said again, plugging his other ear as he walked into the next room.
“Officer Alletto?”
“Yes. Who’s this?”
“This is Trooper Jim Wieland. I’m at the crime scene and wanted to know how soon you can be here?”
“Well, I’m just getting up and moving. Is it urgent?”
“Oh, no. I just wanted to give you an update and see if you may have some other details for the investigation. I’m assuming you still want to be part of it.”
“I figured the state would take over now that it’s been upgraded to a homicide investigation.”
“It is, but you know this town better than we do, and we would like to work with you rather than push you aside.”
“No problem. I have a meeting, but can be there in a little over an hour.”
“That sounds good. With any luck, we’ll have an ID on the second body by then.”
Wait… What? What second body? Had they found the missing boy? Could this all be tied up and they just needed to find the sick bastard who did it now? Strange how if they did find the boy dead, it would at least be something.
His stomach twisted in disgust at his morbid desire for any solution. He had wanted to find that boy alive, to bring him home and watch his mother gave him a bear hug that he’d feel for the rest of his life.
He heard the trooper talking to someone in the background. The man probably hadn’t even noticed Rob’s silence.
“Second body?” he asked.
The officer finished giving an order to someone, then came back on the phone. “Yeah. We found a second body. They are bringing it up now and will get it to the coroner. I should know more by the time you get here.”
“I’ll be right up.”
“No, do your meeting. It’ll take some time. It can wait. I had heard you had a day job, that you're only part-time, and wanted to make sure you were around.”
“Yeah, no problem.”
“Okay. See you in an hour.”
Rob hung up, shaking his head. The state wanted to keep him in the loop and wanted his help? Yeah, that was complete bullshit. He was a suspect, which didn't surprise him. He was still relatively new to the area, he had money troubles, and he was only a part-time cop who needed a full-time paycheck. Rob admitted that he really did make a good suspect. In addition, since the trooper had done his research, he knew he was moonlighting on another job and had an excuse to get out of town. The trooper wanted to make sure Rob wouldn’t be out of town so if they did find anything else, they could quickly come grab him.
That pain in his stomach got worse, feeling like the acid itched to burn its way up his throat and out of his body.
“Robyn?” he called out.
“Yeah?” she answered from her little room. It was probably meant to be a third bedroom or a home office, but they had converted it so she had her little creative nook to do her Etsy crafts.
He knocked and entered. She sat at her desk, hunched over, her hands holding tweezers as she worked on something delicate. He waited. When she finished, she eased back in the chair and looked up at him.
“You were saying something about counseling?” he asked. He had a hard time recognizing his own voice. It was soft, not the voice of authority he was used to hearing. It sounded almost delicate, like the craft she was working on.
“Yes...” She set down the tweezers. “Rob, I know you’ve been through a lot. I also know the symptoms. How you twitch, sometimes stare off, your nightmares, how you have to fight from going off the handle sometimes. I see you fighting with it, but it’s getting worse…” She bit her lip and looked down, avoiding his eyes. “Rob…I think you have PTSD. I think you need to go to a counselor and get some help. I mean, think of everything you’ve been through, all the crazy stuff that has happened.” She started to rush, getting it all out. “No one should ever have to see that many people die, and no one is blaming you.” She reached out as she saw him falling back against the wall, his shoulders tense. “You’ve been through a lot. I think you need help.”
He stood there, stunned, not sure if he were holding up the wall or vice versa. He just stayed there, seeming to look past her.
“Rob, are you okay?”
He blinked and seemed like he looked at her, but she still wasn’t sure. His eyes looked empty.
“Yeah, I’m fine.” He blinked again, seeming to pull himself together.
She wanted him to go see a doctor? There was something wrong with him and he needed to be fixed? He was the problem? Hedidn’t agree with that. He had no issue if she said they both needed counseling, but he was not going to go to some head shrink. There was nothing wrong with him.
“I’m fine. I don’t need to go to a doctor.”
They continued to look at each other. He looked away first, but she didn’t feel like she had won. It felt more like a loss as he walked out, not saying anything more to her. When she heard the sound of the keys being lifted out of the bowl and the front door opening, she knew she had definitely not won.
Was it wrong to be worried about him? He’d been through so much. They all had. She just wished he could sleep through the night without kicking her, then there were times she’d wake up and find him just standing in the hall. He hadn’t started sleepwalking before last year, but since everything happened, she’d sometimes find him standing there, a blank expression on his face.
He was going to snap if he didn’t get some help soon. That had been the reason she had called Sarah in the first place. She needed to find a way to get him to someone before it was too late. The job had just happened.
The door slammed shut, startling her, rattling the windows. It had been so long after he had opened it, she knew he must have just stood in the doorway for a while.
He needed help before the anger she knew seethed just under the surface finally boiled over.
CHAPTER 23
Trooper Jim Weiland tossed his cell phone on the front seat of his squad car and looked at the police officers and forensics team working around him. He had been on the scen
e for more than a few hours, was already disgusted by the local swill they called coffee, and was frustrated he had to play nice with the one person he felt was his best suspect in the homicide of a police officer.
So Officer Alletto would make him wait an hour. That was fine. Maybe they would have some physical evidence by then, his questioning becoming more formal than the little dance he had to play now. Jim didn’t believe the man had used his son to find the body. Maybe the kid’s friends found it, and Alletto had to use his son for a cover. Convenient, although he was sure Alletto would have been happier had the body never been found.
The lead medical examiner looked over at him. Samantha Palmer was on the scene before he had gotten there and was able to get many of the pieces out of the old mineshaft, checking and tagging each one as she had. He arrived to see human body parts laid out on a long sheet, bagged, tagged, and positioned to identify the different elements. She still needed to find the right foot and the body’s midsection. He had helped her find, well…the insides of the midsection. Before he had to walk away, he found some of the intestines and what looked like it had once been the victim’s stomach.
That morning was the first time he had ever come close to vomiting on a crime scene. He had made it to the road before the bacon and eggs erupted onto the asphalt. When he had looked around, he saw he had not been the only one. There were various splatter marks along the side of the road.
He walked over to her, feeling for the woman. It couldn’t be easy to work her way through this. This was going to stay in all their nightmares for years to come.
“Find the rest of him yet?”
“Not yet. They’re probably farther down the shaft.”
He nodded, finding that he was having a hard time looking at her. He kept looking off toward the woods. He couldn’t shake that nagging feeling they were being watched. The gloomy day and the chill in the air didn’t help.
He was sure half the town had heard by now, so there were probably gawkers in the woods watching them.