by Danika Stone
For some reason, those words brought angry tears to her eyes. She glared at him, blinking them away.
“Stop it!” she hissed.
“Stop what?”
“Stop this! YOU!” she snapped. “Stop being so nice to me!”
Jude stared at her, annoyance deepening the lines of his face.
“That’s a fucked up thing to say!”
“I… I can’t do this with you,” she said, reaching for the door handle. “I don’t get you!”
Jude was faster.
He caught hold of her fingers. He wasn’t hurting her, as Cal would have, but he didn’t let go either.
“No,” he said. “You don’t get to walk away!” He held her gaze, his expression hovering between fury and pain, the combination so inexplicably comforting she had to blink back tears. “I came back tonight, alright?” Jude growled. “That means something!”
Indigo slumped in her seat, fingers going limp in his.
“You should walk away, Jude, and never look back,” she said, her eyes on the empty street. “You’re too nice for a girl like me.”
He reached out, turning her chin so that she looked at him. His eyes glittered angrily, his mouth a slash.
“I’m more fucked up than you are,” he said. “I promise you that!”
“No,” she said sadly. “You’re not.”
“Yes, Indigo,” he said, letting go of her wrist so he pull her nearer. “I really am.”
His mouth was only a breath away, his eyes heavy-lidded, but she put a hand against his chest, stopping him before he could kiss her. Shireese was right. This couldn’t go on forever.
“Come with me tomorrow,” Indigo said. “Help me film. And I’ll show you why you’re wrong.”
She’d give him some of the truth, and decide on the rest later.
: : : : : : : : : :
Officer Brodie’s shift ended just after dawn. He had breakfast with two of the other officers, as was his routine, then drove toward the suburbs while the sun rose, a golden disc in the sky. He veered west, following the gravelled side streets until he reached the Mazda dealership. There, he met up with the morning staff, flashing a badge and a smile as he requested to see their closed-circuit footage from the previous night.
They complied without question.
He was able to get the make and model of the car – an older Matrix – along with a rough description of the man driving. From there, Brodie headed across the road to “Now or Never,” following the same routine. Their cameras were much more helpful. In seconds, he had the complete license plate number and a print-out of a single frame, showing a young man standing inside the phone booth.
License number in hand, he walked out to the police cruiser, typing the plate into the registration database. Brodie now had a name – Elliot Baird – along with Elliot’s address. He searched for any police records. His face grew concerned at the lack of information. Elliot Justin Baird, age twenty-eight, had no priors. In fact, he didn’t even have any parking tickets. He was just a good kid trying to do the right thing. Guilt rising, Brodie took a slow breath, forcing himself to think of his own boys. Brodie might feel guilty for what he was about to do to this man, but not enough to risk his own children.
His final stop was at a small watch-repair shop downtown. As soon as he walked in, the man behind the counter put a “back in ten minutes” sign up on the door, pulling the mesh grate across the front of the store. Brodie dialled the private number, his eyes on the street. His boys would be getting up soon, and he wanted to be home in time to drop them off at school.
“Hello?” He didn’t recognize the voice, and was glad. Anonymity made it easier.
“This is Brodie,” he said. “I have some information for King.”
Chapter 12: The Long Road Home
Jude tapped on the door of Marq’s room, pushing the door open and peeking inside. Marq was sprawled across the bed, fully clothed, his wallet and keys laying on the bedside table.
“Hey Marq,” Jude said. “You awake yet?”
“Mmmph… sleeping,” he grumbled.
“Marq?”
This time he rolled over, yawning.
“Whassup Jude?”
Marq’s eyes were bloodshot, his cheek wrinkled from the pillow. Jude had heard him come in after four, but he didn’t know if he’d gone to sleep right away or not. It was nearly noon now, and Jude had agreed to meet up with Indigo at 12:30. He didn’t want to have to take the train today unless he had to. He was still pissed at Marq for dragging him out to The Vault, and he figured Marq owed him.
“Can I borrow your car again?”
“Sure,” Marq yawned. “What for?”
“I’ve got plans,” Jude said noncommittally.
The shorter this show-and-tell, the better. He’d barely slept last night, his mind trapped in an endless cycle of resentment and pain. He didn’t know what was going on with him and Indigo anymore, and that bothered him more than anything. He needed to talk to Elliot, but he didn’t have any idea how to rebuild that bridge.
“Plans?”
“A school project,” Jude said. “A student asked me for some tech help.”
Marq put his hands behind his head, grinning. “This that girlfriend of yours?”
For a moment he flickered to the moment in the car when he’d tried to kiss her.
“Don’t have a girlfriend,” Jude grumbled.
“Yeah, you do,” Marq laughed.
Jude glared at him.
“Y’know who I mean,” Marq said. “That chick you keep going for coffee with.”
Jude clenched his teeth until they ached, forcing his words to be calm. He’d spent half the night trying to figure out what he was to Indigo Sykes. He was something, but after seeing her draped all over Woodrow, he knew ‘boyfriend’ wasn’t it.
“She’s not my anything,” he snapped, anger from last night spilling out like an over-full cup.. “Not that it’s any of your fucking business.” He gestured to the keys. “So can I borrow your car or not?”
“Go ahead,” Marq said. “No problem.”
He reached out, pulling the keys from the table. Jude expected Marq to toss them, but he didn’t. Instead he lay in bed, fiddling with the keychain.
“You should buy a car sometime,” Marq mused, “You’ve got the cash now.”
“I’m saving the money from this job,” Jude grumbled. “Finishing it up, and getting out.”
Marq propped himself up on his elbows, squinting.
“Why in the world would you do that?”
“This can’t go on forever,” Jude answered sourly. “Someone’ll notice. Someone’ll turn us in. Gotta get out while we can.” He winced, recognizing Elliot’s warning.
“You worry too much,” Marq chuckled.
Jude sighed, lifting his phone from his pocket, and checking the time: 12:04 p.m. He was going to be late.
“You do what you need to do, but I’m done.”
Marq began to laugh. He flopped back against the mattress, tossing the keys in the air and catching them.
“You never gave a rat’s ass about shit like this before,” he taunted. “I remember you fucking around with the university grading program back in third year. Told me it was for the greater good.” He smirked. “No Jude, this is your girlfriend talking, not you.”
Jude stomped out of the room, slamming the door behind him.
“Forget the goddamn car,” he barked. “I’ll take the train.”
“Oh, c’mon, Jude!” Marq whined. “I was just joking, man. I swear!” Jude headed to the foyer, pulling on his shoes. Marq came out of the bedroom just as he unlocked the front door. Marq had one hand pressed against his temple, the keys held out before him, a grin on his face. “Don’t be such a bitch about it,” Marq laughed, jangling keys at him. “I’m just sayin’ ‘bros before hoes’!”
Jude snatched the keys from his fingers.
“Fuck off, Marq,” he snapped. “You’re not funny!” He slammed the front
door on the way out.
He needed to deal with Indigo, and then he needed to find a new place to live.
: : : : : : : : : :
Indigo was waiting on the front steps when Jude arrived. She had a small backpack next to her leg, a camera in hand. She turned it off when he pulled to a stop, putting it into her bag and walking to the car. Dressed in blue jeans, a black tee, leather jacket and boots, Indigo felt more like herself this afternoon. She wasn’t playing a role for anyone, and the thought scared her.
There was safety in being someone else.
The sportscar paused by the curb, but Jude didn’t get out. Indigo climbed into the passenger seat, dropping her bag on the floor.
“You still want to go?” Jude asked coolly.
She felt herself rankle, worry turning into annoyance. So he hadn’t let it go after all.
“If you want to go, then let’s go,” she said indifferently. “It’s up to you.”
Jude turned away, staring down the street, his hands tight on the wheel.
“I said I’d help and I will.”
In minutes, they were flying along the ring roads that circled the edge of the city. Jude didn’t seem to want to talk, so Indigo fiddled with the car’s mp3 player, connecting it to her iPod and hitting play. The speakers roared to life, a heavy bass beat of death metal filling the car.
“Turn it down!” Jude yelled, his words muted by the thunderous sound.
Indigo fumbled with the controls, accidentally switching it to another song. This one was even louder, bass shuddering the windows. Jude was yelling, but she couldn’t make out any of the words. Ears crackling, Indigo finally ripped the phone’s cable out of the car’s dash, swearing. Both of them broke into laughter, tension broken. Jude glanced over, grinning, and for the first time that day, Indigo felt herself relax.
“Sorry,” she giggled. “I didn’t realize it’d be so loud.”
“It’s alright,” Jude said. “Didn’t really want my whole range of hearing anyhow.”
She smirked, plugging in the iPod once more, and lowering the volume before turning it on. Music filled the car, and the drive continued.
It took them an hour to reach the far eastern edge of the city. As the highway began to match the curve of the river, Indigo found herself tensing. She hadn’t been here in years, and she felt like an intruder as she returned. Reaching the overpass, she pointed up ahead, unable to speak. It was an older neighbourhood, full of one-level bungalows, common in the fifties and sixties. Indigo felt her breath catch, seeing them again. The trees had grown up, but other than that, it was eerily familiar.
“Up there,” she whispered, her mind caught in the net of the past.
Jude reached out, turning the music down until it was only a low drone. Indigo barely noticed. She was focused on counting houses the way she had as a child, each one alive in the stories they held.
There was the once-pink house with white trim (now repainted a dull grey), hidden in a forest of elm trees. That was the house where Cody Palmer had fallen off an upper branch, and his arm bone had torn through the skin of his forearm. Beyond that was a house which had a yellow, slatted bottom and a rock-dash top. Indigo and her friend Kelly Leniszek had once picked out the chunks of glass, pretending they were a pirate’s treasure of sapphires, emeralds, and diamonds. Two houses down was a house with windows covered in tinfoil. In Indigo’s mind, this was the house where she and Tatem O’Keefe had snuck through the Mortenson’s garden, stealing raspberries and eating the sun-warmed fruit before they could be caught.
Her eyes rose to the end of the street where a small house, sided in blue, sat neatly back from the curb. Indigo swallowed the stone in her throat, eyes bright.
“That one up there,” she said thickly.
Jude parked the car two houses away.
“You want me to help you get some footage?” he asked.
Indigo nodded mutely. She couldn’t speak. Not yet. Everything was too painful now that she was back. This place had been home. Despite all the years that had passed, that had never changed.
She set up the tripod, fumbling as she attached the foot to the camera, and taking several pans of the street. Indigo was three, catching ladybugs while Nan gardened… Indigo was five, walking hand in hand with Poppy… Indigo was eight, riding her bike in the rain… Indigo was ten, sobbing in the backseat of a taxicab... She stepped back from the camera, breathing hard, eyes closed as she fought to breathe.
Jude touched her elbow, and she jumped. He was watching her with concerned eyes.
“Do you want me to get some footage of you reacting?” he offered.
“No,” she growled, turning off the camera. “This is fine. I’ve got enough.”
Indigo had just started to break down the tripod when the front door of the house pushed open. An aging woman with curly orange hair, fading to grey at the scalp, came down the steps, hands on her hips.
“You there!” she said shrilly. “What’re you doing on my lawn?”
Indigo’s eyes widened, fear gripping her chest in a vise. She could feel herself slipping into the old Indigo, back to the past where she didn’t like to go.
Jude strode forward, offering his open palm.
“Good afternoon, ma’am,” he said, all gentility and good humor. “Sorry to bother you, but my friend and I are working on a university project.” He chattered on, his voice taking on the sophisticated tone Indigo had noticed the first time she’d spoken to him. “I was wondering if you could tell us a little about your house.”
The woman launched into a story, talking about her husband’s retirement from the army, and their decision to move to the suburbs. She rattled on about children and grandchildren, while Jude oh’ed and ah’ed at her descriptions. As the story ended, he leaned closer, grinning down at her mischievously. Seeing it, Indigo realized that Jude Alden was very good at getting his way when he wanted to. He knew exactly what to say to talk himself through a situation. In that way he was exactly like Cal.
“…and I was wondering,” Jude said, “if we could take a few photos inside.”
The woman looked from Jude, over to Indigo, brows rising.
“Well, I… I don’t know, I mean—”
“My friend here used to live in your house,” Jude explained. (“Don’t!” Indigo hissed, but no one seemed to notice.) “And if we could just get a bit of footage, that would really help with the film project.”
“Are you Sherry?” the woman gasped. “I knew your mother. We kept in touch even after we bought the house.”
Indigo felt the ground fall away. This wasn’t supposed to be happening.
“No,” she muttered. “I… I’m Sherry’s daughter.”
“Oh my goodness!” the woman chortled, her hand fluttering up to her chest. “Then you must be Indigo! Your grandmother used to talk about you all the time before she passed away.”
“She did?” Indigo whispered. The realization that Nan was dead slammed into her with the force of a truck. She struggled to absorb it, to shuffle it into the facts she knew, but nothing would fit in place.
“Yes, honey,” the woman tutted. “Of course, she did.” Her voice dropped, and she leaned in. “She worried when you ran off. It took a lot out of her, hearing you’d run away... and then when it happened again. But she never lost hope you were okay.”
Indigo dropped her gaze to the ground, her voice swallowed up by more than a decade of lies. Nan had never given up. Old memories began to rise inside her, rattling against the door where she’d locked them away. She blinked again and again, eyes burning.
“And now you’re back,” the woman breathed, her eyes soft and maternal. “I’m just sorry your grandmother didn’t live to see it.” Indigo looked back up. She needed to focus on something else – ‘anything!’ – or she was going to fall apart. “So yes, by all means, come in!”
She took Indigo’s arm, but she jerked away.
“I’m sorry,” she stammered. “I can’t, I didn’t know. I jus
t…”
Indigo stumbled backward, panic rising. Jude turned to the woman, patting her shoulder.
“On second thought,” he said gently, “we should probably go. We’ve got to drive back into the city and all.”
“Well, it was great to see you!” the woman said, beaming up at him. “I’m glad you stopped by.”
Indigo walked back to the car on stiff legs, leaving Jude to gather up the equipment. When she sat down in the seat, she began to shake, her entire body wracked by tremors. She took slow breaths, forcing the tears away, fighting the urge to break. Her gaze was lost in the middle distance, the day reappearing.
Sherry had taken Indigo’s hand, dragging her down the steps while she cried.
“It’ll be just like home, Indie Baby,” she’d said anxiously. “You watch, you’ll love it.”
“But I’ll miss Poppy and Nan,” Indigo had sobbed.
She’d wrenched against her mother’s arm, trying to escape. Unwavering, Sherry had dragged Indigo to the waiting cab, hustling her inside. The taxi had pulled away and Sherry’d begun crying. Both of them trapped together.
“You can’t stay here anymore,” Sherry had whispered as the cab had pulled away from the only home Indigo had ever known. “I wish you could too, but you can’t…”
The door opened, the sound dragging her back to the present. She could breathe again, though her chest ached, cheeks flooded with tears.
“I’m so fucking sorry,” Jude said. “I didn’t know.”
Indigo stared at the floor, voice hollow.
“My mother had me at sixteen, and left me with her parents when she moved out. They were good people, and I loved them, but when Pop had a stroke, Nan couldn’t take care of both of us.”
“I’m so sorry,”Jude repeated.
“My mother didn’t want to be a mom,” Indigo said wistfully. “She was young… younger than I am now, actually, when I was sent back to her. And she just couldn’t handle having a kid.” Jude put his hand on her shoulder, but she shrugged it off. “I ran away for the first time when I was fifteen,” she said. “Lived in foster care after they caught me. I hated the family. Shoplifted and got caught while I was there too. Spent some time in juvenile detention, and got moved again. Hated that family. Hated them all, but I couldn’t go home.”