“Fifty-eight, ma’am, but there was no evidence of a wreck so no one stopped. A man found him early this morning while walking his dog.”
“No evidence of a wreck!” she shrieked. The doctor jumped at her outburst. Vivian’s hands flew to the armrests in a white knuckled grip. Her gaze was piercing and it appeared as though the news was aging her in a matter of seconds, rather than years. Her skin flushed and drew tight to her jaw, while her dark eyes threatened bodily harm. Her voice firmed and lowered as though possessed. “How can there be a wreck, Frank laying helpless on the ground, and nothing to show that something happened?”
“W-w-well,” stammered Dr. Alberrat, “we never found his bike. We searched all over fifty-eight.”
Vivian’s eyes widened and she leapt into his face with fury.
“I-I-I’m sorry ma’am, b-but if you want to know more, I suggest you speak with Officer McCullin,” he pleaded before scurrying away.
Vivian stood in place, at a loss for words. I had to look twice to make sure steam wasn’t streaming from her nostrils. Just then, the drunk came around the corner. A strange visage haunted his face as though the laws of nature had finally sought karmic retribution. His eyes were sunken and vacant, but when they chanced upon Vivian, they gained a semblance of humanity.
“Viv.” His voice echoed through the room as though the wails of other people didn’t exist. “Viv, he’s gone.”
My mother turned stony eyes on him. “What did he mean, there was no evidence of a wreck?” she asked without emotion, as though she hadn’t heard a word.
“I-I-I don’t know. Ask Fred.” Finding no sympathy, he strode through the automatic double doors and left the building.
Vivian stepped up to the counter. “Where’s my boy?”
The nurse peered up at her with unshed tears, mirroring her pain. “Room 206, ma’am.”
Without another word, Vivian turned the corner and made a beeline for his room. We had been here before, years ago, and we were both familiar with the corridors. Paige and I followed after, motioning for the girls to remain. Voices echoed past as we approached the room. Vivian halted for a moment at the cracked door and listened while we padded up behind her.
“So what do you think this is?” asked a gruff voice I heard the few times Fred visited.
“I can’t be sure,” answered a strange man. “It looks like paint. It may have come off the vehicle he hit. It would explain the contusion to his forehead. Are there any other signs of impact on the helmet?”
I peered around Vivian and into the room. Fred was still in uniform, the dark blue and black of the local police department. He rotated the black helmet in his hands and scanned it with a determined gaze.
“Not that I see,” he muttered. “What was it that killed him?”
The stranger, a shaggy haired doctor with a bulldog’s face and jowls, replied, “Your nephew died of internal bleeding. His blood was thinned with the alcohol he’d drunk. If it’s any consolation, I don’t think he was in pain for too long.”
Officer McCullin nodded his thanks and turned to the door. His eyes widened when he spied us peering through the gap in the door. Vivian seized the moment and stepped inside.
“You don’t think he was in pain for long?” she interjected.
“No, not likely…” There was a brief pause before he added with downcast eyes, “I’m sorry for your loss, Vivian.”
She ignored his comment. “Did you find the person that hit him?”
“Why, no but—” he attempted to answer, but she overrode him.
“And what was this about his bike going missing?” She glanced at the two of them for an answer.
The doctor shook his head as the words died on his tongue. A hint of a smile played at the corners of Fred’s lips as he watched the determined woman, but nothing more became visible. It was as though he knew the rage fuming within her. She was a mother bear, searching for the cause of her dead cub. A moment of anger flared within me. She cared more for Frank than what I’d gone through for years. But within seconds, the embers sizzled and died as my gaze hovered over Frank’s lifeless body. She hadn’t believed me. There was no denying what happened here, though. Frank was gone.
After it was clear that she had finished, Fred answered, “Vivian, we haven’t found the guy yet, but we’re lookin’ into it. So far as the bike goes, we’re not entirely sure what happened. Could be that there wasn’t much damage and someone stole it.” He shrugged. His professional composure showed no agitation at the death of his nephew, but his dark eyes were similar to the drunk’s, windows into his pained soul. “We just don’t know. No one may be at fault here, but we’re searching.”
“Dammit, Fred!” Vivian shouted. “You’ve had a day and didn’t even tell us what happened till an hour ago. Why the hell haven’t you found something?”
“Look,” he pleaded, holding up his free hand to forestall her barrage, “I told you what happened. They didn’t know who he was till I got there. Alls they found were a few bike parts.”
“And that he was drunk,” interjected the rotund doctor.
She took a haggard breath and squared her shoulders. “I know,” she whispered. “Just find something.”
“We will,” Fred assured her. “I’ll bring his things to you tomorrow.”
She nodded. Her gaze flitted to Frank’s body for a moment before fixating on the tiled floor.
He was drunk. The words echoed and cemented the doctor’s words in my mind. He was drunk. It’s my fault. I slid past Paige and slipped out of the room while the others stood in silence.
Paige took to my heels and asked, “What’s going on?”
“It’s my fault,” I stated without breaking stride. “If I’d stopped him last night, he’d still be alive.”
“You didn’t know this was going to happen,” Paige hissed. “How were you to know what would happen?”
I stopped to face her. “I didn’t, but if I’d done something, stopped him somehow. I knew there was a chance he could wreck. He was totally blasted last night. He shouldn’t have driven.”
“Yeah, but you couldn’t stop him. You aren’t his guardian angel. You tried to talk to him, to get him to come back home.”
I nodded. “Yeah but, if not for me, he wouldn’t have left in the first place. It’s all my fault.”
“The hell it is!” she blurted. Nurses turned to stare and she lowered her voice. “Alex, you didn’t cause this.”
“Maybe, maybe not… but even so, I could’ve stopped it.”
“No, you couldn’t have.” Paige glared at me, her frustration visible in her stiff posture. “Stop it. Stop it right now. It wasn’t your fault.”
“Fine, it wasn’t my fault,” I blurted without confidence. I met her stare in the fleeting silence. “I still don’t believe you.”
“Okay, don’t believe me. But instead of blaming yourself, why don’t you do something about it.”
“Like what?”
“You can do what no one else can. Think! Is there something you can do to help find the others involved?”
“Maybe, but we don’t have his bike, and Fred has his helmet.”
“Do you think he would let you see it?”
“No, it’s evidence. Didn’t you hear him? Some paint was left on it. Besides, he never really cared for me. He wouldn’t let me shine his shoes if I asked.”
“I guess we should just leave it up to them. You heard them though, he was drunk. Most likely, the other person was just an innocent bystander.”
“I doubt it. Frank drove drunk pretty often. He never hit anything. They had to have done something.”
“You think?” she asked.
It was a sobering thought. “Yeah, gotta be,” I answered.
“Well, if you’re right, it really isn’t your fault.”
“Yeah, if I’m right,” I muttered, less certain than I’d claimed. “We have to find that bike. But how?”
Chapter 24
Monday
October 10, 19
95
At school the following day, I could focus on nothing but the prior night’s events. How was I to find Frank’s bike? We hadn’t been notified of any change in the police investigation and Vivian assured me that she would contact the school if something turned up. Each class crawled by in an attempt to last longer than the one before. I slouched in my chair and avoided the teacher’s searching gaze as had become my custom. I said little to Paige as we passed between classes and the seconds passed in sync with my heartbeat. Lunch came and I seated myself across from her.
“How are you coping?” she asked, pity brimming in her eyes.
I shrugged. “I just don’t know what to do. The only thing I can think of is that we have to find the bike first, but I still don’t know how.”
“Yeah, me too,” she muttered into her coleslaw. We sat in silence and she stirred her mixed vegetables in thought. Then her fork stopped. She glanced up. The glimmer of an idea sparkled in her eyes. “Why’s the bike the only thing that will work?”
“Because, it’s the thing he was holding.” I quirked an eye, unsure what she was getting at. “It’s the only thing we can link to the wreck. I thought you understood that. The person has to touch the object when they die.”
She nodded with enthusiasm. “Yeah, I know. But do you think it would work with things that were touching him? Does he have to hold them?”
It was an odd question, but had potential. “It may not tell us what we want, but it’s worth a try. It might work…” My thoughts turned to the events of last night. “Didn’t Fred say he’d bring Frank’s things to the house today?”
“Yeah, that’s what I remember,” she blurted. “Do you think they’re already there?”
“They might be. Wanna go check?”
“Now?” she asked, the shock evident on her face.
“Yeah, why not?”
Glancing around as though she possessed some illegal knowledge, she whispered, “I guess we could, but what if he hasn’t gotten there yet?”
“We’ll wait.”
“And say what once Fred sees we’re not in school?”
I pondered the question, but Paige interrupted my thoughts.
“Alex, he’s a police officer. If you don’t want to be grounded for life, we’d better play it straight.”
A lifetime was a stretch. I doubted Vivian or the drunk could do anything to keep me in; they were so rarely at home anyway. I submitted to her good nature. Getting myself in trouble was one thing, but I couldn’t draw her into it.
“Okay, we’ll check after school. I gotta pick up the girls first.”
She motioned her understanding.
The remainder of the day slunk by in its own time while I ran over the list of items I expected to find that afternoon. When the final bell rang, Paige and I swept through the halls, intent on beating the crowds. As usual, others loitered at their lockers and impeded our progress, but we soon found our way outside.
“What do you think he had on him?” asked Paige as we slowed our pace.
I panted and regained my composure. It was difficult with the oversized backpack. “I… I… I’m not really sure. I tried to think about that earlier. There’s a number of things he could’ve had on him. I would love to get his keys, but I’m sure they went with the bike.”
Paige agreed without a word, then added, “Yeah, I don’t think we have a hope of finding that. Was there anything he always carried with him?”
I thought back on the few times we spent together. I rarely saw him in school since he’d graduated. “Nah, nothing sticks out.”
“Lucky rabbit foot?” Paige proposed.
“Not that I know of.”
“Hmmmmm,” Paige replied in thought. “A lucky penny, nickel, anything?”
“Don’t know. We didn’t really talk much. He was a baseball player, so he might have kept something for luck… but if he did, he didn’t tell me.”
“Jeeze, Alex. You lived with him for years. Didn’t you notice anything?”
I prodded my mind for answers but still came up empty. “Nah, nothing. Like I said, he and I didn’t really see eye-to-eye on things. More often than not, my eyes saw his fists.”
Paige glared sidelong as we approached the elementary school. I tried to stifle a chuckle, but failed. “Okay, it was a bad joke, but true.”
“I know,” Paige replied, “but it still doesn’t make it right.”
We struggled to think of something most people might carry. I’d struck down everything on the mental list I’d composed and even the random ideas Paige proposed, including a rocket launcher. I think she intended the last to be humorous, but she said it with such sincerity that I’m not sure. As we walked up to the front door, Glory spotted us and waved with enthusiasm.
“Paige, you came too!” she shouted and encompassed my friend in her arms.
Paige patted her back. Looking over at Abby, she said, “Hey, how’d your day go?”
“Okay,” the older sister replied with a shrug. She turned and led the way home. “We going anywhere else?” she asked as an afterthought.
“Nah, you got it. Lead the way,” I answered.
Gloria slipped a hand in Paige’s and the other in mine, then walked between us as we followed Abigail. She chattered on about her day for the entire trip, allowing no one to get a word in except to prompt her for more, which Paige did with delight. It must have been lonely as an only child. I never thought about it much. When I was little, I spent much of my time with my parents and since then the girls were always around. I allowed her the brief experience as we continued past the vacant lots and across the tracks. When we arrived home, we found the drunk seated with beer can in hand. Vivian wasn’t present. I assumed she was at work as usual.
“You’re home early,” I commented, slipping out of Glory’s grasp.
“Yeah,” he replied through a gulp of his memory distiller.
“Did you go to work today?”
“No,” he added, stumbling up from his seat and then shouting in a slur, “You have somethin’ to say ‘bout it?”
“Nah, just thought it was odd. That’s all,” I answered, seeing a spark of fire ignite in his dark eyes.
“Frank’s dead, dammit. Leave me bees.” The ember died and he fell back into the chair. He threw the wasted can across the room and cracked open another.
Paige watched in disgust, but said not a word.
“Why don’t you and yous friend just leave me alone.”
I didn’t reply, but instead scanned the kitchen and living room for any additions. A box lay on the corner table. Its flaps were open and the tape holding them had been severed in a zigzag. DENCE could be read across one flap of the box in black and white letters. I ushered the girls past and into their rooms before escorting Paige into mine. Now that Frank was gone, I had no reason to worry about sharing the room or being woken up late at night. As soon as the thought entered my mind, I reddened, ashamed for even thinking it. I let my bag fall to the floor with a crash that echoed through the mobile home. Paige flinched.
“Is he always like that?”
“Pretty much. It gets worse later. Just be glad he isn’t concerned about me not saying hello.”
Remembering the stories I’d told, she nodded her head and sat on the lower bunk.
“Did you see the box?”
Paige quirked an eye. “What box?”
“The one marked ‘Evidence’ sitting in the corner, next to the hallway.”
She shook her head.
“Well, I’m sure that’s it. I’m gonna go get it. You stay here in case the drunk gets any crazy ideas. I don’t need you getting hurt, too.”
Paige gave me a challenging stare and was about to say something, but thought better of it.
“Be right back.” Turning from her, I tiptoed into the hall and peeked around the corner.
The drunk was focused on the television, his eyes soaked in tears. I slipped my hands around the box and slid it off the table, but through his t
ears he spotted me.
“Hey, you bastard. Leave that be!”
Leaping from his chair, he lunged for the box with beer in hand. The can crashed into the side and crumpled, spilling alcohol onto the cardboard and across the floor.
“What do you think you’re doing?” He slurred, attempting to regain his balance.
“Just looking at Frank’s stuff. He was my stepbrother. Can’t I at least have a look?”
“But he was my boy,” he pleaded.
“I know. I’m not going to lose them. I promise.”
The drunk wiped away the tears with a sleeve and peered at me with new appreciation. He saw what he wanted to see, someone who cared. “You promise?”
“Yeah, I promise. You’ll get it back in a little while.” I feigned concern. “You aren’t looking at it right now are you?”
The man wiped a wet hand across his unshaven chin and shook his head. “Just give it back when you’s done.” He threw down the useless can and strode to the fridge, then pulled out the case and dropped it next to his chair, dismissing me from his thoughts.
I returned to the room to find Paige peeking into the hallway. She whispered, “You okay?”
I nodded and slipped past, closing the door behind me.
“What’d you find?”
“I’m not sure yet. Let’s find out.” I sat the box on the floor, folded my legs, and seated myself next to it. Paige followed my lead and sat across from me. The flaps of the box leaned inward, hiding the contents from us. I pulled them apart, unsure what to expect. Each item was labeled with an attached nametag. I scanned the contents and was somehow disappointed. I hadn’t known what to expect, but hoped something would speak to me. Aside from the well-used deck of playing cards, house keys, beer bottle caps, and of all things, a feather, nothing screamed, “Touch me!” I lifted the box in my hand, tilted it up, and another item skittered out of the shadows and rolled across the cardboard bottom. It was the one thing I recognized from his scant belongings, his stress ball. The red ball had faded over time and was now light pink. The mundane object was labeled like the others, but now perched on top of Frank’s other possessions. It rested in the crook of the box as though daring me to pick it up. I glanced at Paige with a silent question.
A Life of Death: Episodes 5 - 8 Page 2