Sins of the Past

by Julia Derek

  “Sounds good, Kate,” Trevor called back. “Take your time. We’ll be here.”

  “Okay, I will. Bye, Luis. Bye, Anna. Be good until Mommy comes back, okay?”

  “Yes, we will, Mommy,” Luis yelled back. “Bye. Break a leg.”

  “Thanks, sweetie.” She checked the time and saw that it was already one thirty-seven. She had to get going if she did not want to risk being late. She would kick herself if that happened, jeopardizing her chances of getting the job. Even so, something made it hard for her to leave the apartment. She had the strangest feeling in her gut, a feeling of impending doom. Which was ridiculous. What was wrong with her? She laughed and forced herself to get going. A minute later, she had left the apartment and was in the elevator, riding downstairs to the apartment building lobby. Right as the elevator reached the bottom, she remembered that she was supposed to have asked Trevor about that shamrock tattoo on his left arm that Luis had seen. Oh, well; she would have to do it when she got back. There was no time to do it now. Besides, it wasn’t exactly all that important in the grand scheme of things.

  She hurried out of the elevator and the building, then raised her arm to hail a cab as soon as she reached the curb. A yellow cab slid up to her within moments and she climbed inside, telling the cabbie where she was heading. As they took off, she went over in her head what she would talk about during the interview, what her focus would be.

  There wasn’t much traffic, so she arrived at the midtown east office building with several minutes to spare. Thank God, she thought; now she would have some time to center herself before she faced the HR manager. Things were clearly going her way. She paid the cabbie and left the car, hurrying into the tall building where she signed in with the front desk security man.

  She rode the elevator up to the eleventh floor where the computer company was located and entered the glass door that separated the business from the hallway. She told the girl at the front desk who she was, and she was shown into an office where she was asked to have a seat; Ms. Rosinsky would soon be there.

  An hour later, Kate was walking out of the building, a big smile on her lips. The initial meeting with the HR manager had gone so well that Kate was sent directly to the general manager, who had conducted an impromptu interview with her, and then offered her the job the second they were done. She had hardly been able to believe her ears when she heard the words coming out of the GM’s mouth. She recovered quickly, however, and accepted the position. She couldn’t wait until she got to see the kids and Trevor, to be able to tell them about the good news. As she raised her arm to hail another cab, she found her cell in her pocket. She wasn’t as lucky with the cabs this time around, though; every single one seemed to be occupied, passing her by. While she kept looking, she speed-dialed Trevor. She was dying to let him know about her new job. The rings going through in her ear, the call went into voicemail, however.

  Hmm, she thought and put the phone back in her purse. He and the kids must be playing some loud game that had drowned out the sound of his phone ringing. Finally, an available cab arrived and slid up to her spot on the street. She climbed inside and told the cabbie where to take her.

  Staring out the car window, she thought about how well everything had gone in both her interviews, and how incredibly lucky she was that the company had been desperate to replace the previous person in her new position. Not only had it been tailored for her, but she was exactly what the general manager had had in mind. Talk about good timing.

  Unlike when Kate had ridden downtown and the streets had been unusually open, there was now lots of traffic on the road, creating a gridlock. She tried Trevor again on the phone, but he didn’t pick up this time either. She left a message, telling him that she might arrive a little later than planned, but that she had great news.

  As she hung up, she frowned a little. It wasn’t typical for Trevor not to pick up; she really hoped everything was okay. She shook her head and laughed at herself; what was she so worried about? So he’d missed two of her attempts to reach him. Big deal. But even so, she couldn’t shake the growing sense of discomfort that had formed in her stomach, getting more intense by the minute.

  Sighing, she gazed out the window and wished that all the cars would get moving, so she could get back home finally. She checked her email on her phone to kill time. There was nothing interesting there. Then she remembered the shamrock with the letters AB in them on Trevor’s arm. Out of boredom, she typed in the words “shamrock AB” in the Google search box on her smartphone.

  Several results populated on the small screen, all of them dealing with the Aryan Brotherhood, white supremacy, or prison gangs.

  Her stomach twisting uncomfortably, she stared at the hyperlinks. She must have made some mistake when typing her search terms. She double-checked them, quickly realizing that she hadn’t. Clicking on the Images tab, she saw several shamrock tattoos on arms, chests and backs of white men, the letters AB either in the shamrock or underneath it. Some of the shamrock tattoos had the number 666 in them or around them. Others had swastikas. She felt increasingly sick as she scrolled through all the images of the tattoos.

  Luis must have made a mistake when he told her about the tattoo on Trevor’s arm, she told herself. There’s no way that he had anything to do with a racist prison gang like the Aryan Brotherhood. Her kids were half Latino and he clearly loved them. Right?

  Her hands trembling, she speed-dialed him again, and again he didn’t pick up. She left another message: “Trevor, it’s Kate. Please call me as soon as you hear this. It’s very important.” She hung up the phone and stared out the window at all the cars that moved at a snail’s pace.

  Grabbing the driver’s headrest, she leaned forward. “What is going on here? Why is there so much traffic? Isn’t there another way you can take to the Upper West Side?”

  “Sorry, ma’am, I’m doing my best. There’s been an accident. We’ll soon pass it, and then everything will be okay.”

  She leaned her forehead against the headrest, grasping it so hard her knuckles got white. Oh, God, let’s hope you’re right.

  * * *

  Chapter 30

  When Wil returned to their rental car, she found Larry sleeping. But like he always did when someone approached him while he was taking a nap, he woke up and looked in the person’s direction, his hand on his service weapon. She never really knew if he actually had been asleep or had just been pretending, his reaction was so consistent.

  She climbed into the passenger seat and leaned into the back, inhaling deeply. That chill that had run over her skin at the thought of all those ABs throwing themselves at her in the prison yard, violating her, still gave her goose bumps. Glancing down at her hands, she realized that they were trembling slightly. She blew out a long breath, a little surprised at the intensity of her reaction. She had been through much worse.

  She could feel Larry watching her. “You okay?” he asked.

  “Yes,” she answered and turned her head toward him. “I just needed a moment to pull myself together. Those were some unpleasant men in there.”

  He snorted out a laugh. “I can imagine… So you got a chance to talk to them then?”

  “Yeah, the prison employees were more than happy to help me. That part went very smoothly.”

  “Sounds like something else didn’t. What part was that?”

  “The part that involved Pete Dalton being dead.”

  Larry turned toward her in the car seat. “What the… He’s dead? That’s what they told you?”

  “Yep. Apparently, he’s been dead for years, which was why they knew I was lying when I claimed that his mother had given me a letter to give him.” She ran a hand through her short hair. “It was always a fairly weak plan, but I still cannot think of a better one.”

  “Me neither. How many ABs did you get to speak to?” He placed his hands behind his neck, stretched his chest and yawned.

  She gave him a brief summary of what had happened after Gene had taken her to t
he prison yard.

  “You think they realized you were a cop?” he asked when she was done.

  “No, I really don’t think so. I think they would have told me so if that were the case. The main guy enjoyed making me squirm.” She grimaced.

  “Then he was probably telling you the truth. Why don’t we check with Mike at the station? He should be able to dig up a death certificate somewhere. You said the guy claimed he’d been dead for years, right?”

  “Yeah, that’s what he said.” She found her cell phone. “Let me call Mike and have him check for us. Shouldn’t take too long.”

  She punched the number to the main tech guy’s direct line and immediately got hold of him. Telling him what she needed, he promised to have the info for them soon.

  Disconnecting the call, she suggested they go for an early dinner while they waited for Mike to get back to them. Larry agreed and started the car. As they rode along the narrow asphalt road toward the city again, Wil stared out the window, at the trees that outlined their path. She remained rattled from how the encounter with the ABs had ended. The way those men had leered at her, eager to jump her triggered thoughts of her childhood to creep into her head. Thoughts of how her foster mother had completely ignored her when she had first tried to tell her what Nate, the foster mother’s boyfriend who had looked so much like these men, was doing to her. When it all began. When Wil persisted, determined to break through the woman’s drunken wall, she had yelled at Wil and told her to stop walking around with shorts and skirts and thin shirts, to “cover herself up” properly. Men are unable to control themselves, so it’s a woman’s responsibility not to tempt them, she’d told Wil.

  She had taken her foster mother’s advice, thinking that maybe it would make a difference. Maybe she was the reason Nate kept grabbing her behind or her breasts that were starting to form. Maybe if she wore thick, long-sleeved sweaters and baggy pants all the time, he would stop trying to cop a feel on her. But it didn’t stop, it only got worse. Whenever she was alone with him—which was far too many times—he demanded that she remove her clothes so he could look at her. Touch her. She tried to make him stop, but he was much too strong for her, much too big. It didn’t take long until he was doing things to her that hurt, made her feel dirty.

  When she told her foster mother what he was doing, the woman slapped her and told her to stop making up stories or “she would be sorry.”

  She became numb after that, just let Nate do whatever he wanted to her, whenever he wanted. It lasted until one night when the foster mother caught them in bed together. Instead of throwing Nate out and calling the police, she threw Wil out and told her never to come back again, calling her a “back-stabbing whore who would burn in hell.” So that’s what she had done. At age fourteen, she had packed a bag and left the place she had known as home for the last nine years, never to come back again. She had spent the next several months on the streets in—

  “Wil… Wil.” Larry’s persistent voice called her name. She snapped back to the current moment and turned to face her partner. He was holding a tissue in his hand that he extended her.

  “Stop thinking so much,” he said as she took the tissue from him and dabbed at her face, at the warm tears that were curving down her cheeks. “We’re here. Let’s go.”

  She looked out the window again and noticed that he had parked the car outside an ugly eatery named Jake’s Diner. Doing what Larry had asked, she opened the door on her side and stepped out into the cool fall day. A cold drop of rain hit her face as she headed toward the diner entrance. She gazed up toward the sky and saw that lots of dark clouds had gathered; any second, it would start raining cats and dogs. She waited for Larry to catch up with her before she entered the diner, however.

  “How do I look?” she muttered to him when he joined her.

  “As lovely as always,” he said and pinched her cheek lightly.

  She grabbed his arm. “Seriously, can I face people yet?”

  “Yes, one can’t tell you’ve cried. You’re good.”

  “Okay,” she said and they entered together. The diner smelled of French fries and burgers and coffee, and few people sat around the tables, in the booths, and along the bar. Which wasn’t strange considering that it was past five, not exactly prime lunch time.

  They slipped into one of the booths. A cheery waitress was soon at their table, greeting them and handing them giant, plastic-embossed menus with one hand and deftly filling their water glasses with another.

  When she left, Larry said, “It was a long time ago since I saw you like that. Want to talk about it?”

  She shook her head. “No. A couple of those guys in the prison yard reminded me of my first foster mother’s boyfriend is all, and it got me thinking. But I’m fine now.”

  “You sure?” He peered at her with those warm, black eyes.

  “Positive,” she said and smiled. She really was, and talking about what had just gone through her mind would only serve to upset her further. She didn’t want to be upset any more. So she switched the subject. “I really hope they have eggs and bacon here. I’m dying to eat some fried eggs and bacon.”

  He cocked a brow at her. “Eggs and bacon?” He checked his wristwatch. “It’s five. Isn’t that breakfast food? Besides, I thought you had given up on meat.”

  “I don’t care. That’s what I’m craving right now.”

  “Well. It’s a diner. I’m sure they have eggs and bacon here.”

  They ordered their food and it didn’t take long until both got exactly what they wanted—Wil fried eggs and bacon and Larry a big Caesar salad. Larry’s fourteen-year-old daughter called and wanted advice about a boy, so they spent most of their meal discussing whether she was too young to date or not. Before they could come to a consensus, Wil’s phone rang.

  She picked it up and checked who was calling. Mike from the station.

  She placed the phone to her ear and said, “What’s the scoop?”

  “I’ve checked every data base there is, and I haven’t been able to find anything that confirms that Pete Dalton is dead. Are you sure you gave me the correct spelling of the name?”

  “As far as I know, yeah. But maybe that isn’t what his real name is. Did you find any male Daltons dead at all in that age range?”

  “Yeah, a few, but all of them are from other parts of the country. You know for a fact he was born in that town in Oklahoma?”

  “No, not for a fact, but I have no reason to believe he wasn’t born there. Hmm. Maybe that isn’t how his last name is spelled. The guy who told me sounded pretty sure of it.”

  “I don’t know what to tell you, doll. That’s all I’ve come up with.”

  “Thanks for checking for me so swiftly, Mike. I’ll double-check with his old school in Norman to be one hundred percent sure it’s the right spelling. Speaking of his old school, the principal of Norman High committed suicide almost a decade ago. Can you look into what the local police report had to say about it and forward it to me? It should be available to the public now. His name was Rutger Jensen.”

  “You got it.”

  They disconnected and Wil looked at Larry across the table.

  “Bad news?” Larry asked.

  Wil shrugged. “That depends on how you see it. All I can tell you is that Mike didn’t find any records of a Pete Dalton aged thirty-three from Norman, Oklahoma, who’s dead. Which means he may still be alive.”

  * * *

  Chapter 31

  When the cab finally got to Kate’s apartment building twenty minutes later, she had called Trevor’s phone at least fifteen additional times, and he hadn’t answered any of her calls. She was feeling sick with worry, her stomach in a tight knot. Why wasn’t he picking up when she was trying to reach him? She couldn’t think of any plausible explanation to this radio silence.

  She threw the cabbie a twenty and a ten-dollar bill, then dashed out of the car, her heart pounding like a machine gun inside her ribcage. Oh, God, oh, God, oh, God. That feeling
of impending doom had expanded tenfold, and she had a hard time breathing now.

  She ran into her building, barely acknowledged the doorman as she passed him and pushed the button to the elevator. She willed it to come down right then, but as usual, it took a while before it arrived. She didn’t let the people inside get out of the car before she entered, earning a few glares and huffs as the people made their way out into the lobby.

  Her phone in her hand began to ring as she rode the elevator up to her floor, and she nearly dropped it she was taken by such surprise. Finally he was returning her call… But as she brought the phone to her face, she saw that it was only Joanna who was trying to reach her. Damn it. Why not Trevor?

  She pressed the Talk button. “Hello.”

  “Hey, K. How did the interview go?”

  “Great. Got the job.” She could barely speak, she was so tense.

  “That’s fabulous! Congratulations!”

  “Thanks.”

  There was a moment of silence on the other side of the line. “What’s wrong?” Joanna wondered. “Why do you sound so weird? Aren’t you happy? You really wanted this job.”

  “Trevor’s not answering the phone.” The elevator arrived at her floor then. “I have to go, Joanna. I’ll call you later.” With those words, she hung up and ran out of the elevator, feeling like she was about to throw up. Stop it, she urged herself in her head. Something’s just wrong with his phone, and that’s why he isn’t picking up. Everything’s okay. He’s not a gang member.

  Even if he is a gang member, it doesn’t necessarily mean he’s a bad person. Maybe he just used to be a gang member, just like Diego had been, and was ashamed of it.