“These old places, the basements are usually connected to the kitchen. I’m betting the basement is in the back of the house. I’m going with you,” Julia said.
Julia tried to take the lead, but Navarro moved ahead of her.
“I found something, Ray, by the fireplace,” Russell called out. “It looks like a woman’s silver bracelet. It’s got a charm on it. Hold on. Let me put on my glasses. Okay. There’s a word inscribed on it. It says ‘Peace.’”
Julia reached up to the matching necklace Charlotte had given her. “She’s here. The bracelet belongs to Charlotte.”
Navarro pushed forward, down a long, narrow hallway, ducking in the short space, until he reached a door and threw it open. He flicked his hand over a light switch, and Julia peered over his shoulder, seeing a set of wooden stairs descending below.
“This is it. We found the basement,” Navarro called out to his partner.
“Charlotte? Charlotte Fisher. It’s Julia Gooden.”
Julia ran down the stairs after Navarro, and the tiny seed of hope that had started to blossom dissipated when she saw the contents of the basement, a hodgepodge of boxes, containers, mannequins with women’s clothing, and stacks of old newspapers, all crammed throughout the space. The search wouldn’t be as easy as she had hoped.
A dim single yellow bulb provided the only light in the room. Navarro reached for his flashlight and panned the packed basement in a slow and steady sweep. The beam streamed past cobwebs and boxes until it lit up an old gray trunk with a thick padlock.
“Did Landry say a container or a trunk?” Navarro asked.
“I think he said a container. But this could be it.”
Navarro bent down over the trunk and did a quick inspection with the flashlight. He then gave a light rap on the side of the trunk with his fist.
“It’s solid. Russell, I think we’ve got her,” Navarro yelled. “There are finger imprints on the dust on the front and the sides, where Landry probably opened and closed the trunk.”
“A black-and-white unit just showed up. We’ll be right down,” Russell called out.
“Hold the light for me, Julia, right over the lock,” Navarro said. He reached into the duffel bag and pulled out the small hammer, holding the top of the lock in one hand and the hammer in the other.
Navarro gave one hard rap on the side of the lock. When it didn’t pop, he did the same with the opposite side, and the lock snapped open.
“Step back, Julia,” Navarro said.
The top of the old trunk squeaked as he pulled it open.
Julia moved forward, still holding the flashlight, and pointed the beam of light inside.
Charlotte Fisher, barefoot and wearing the blue dress, was crammed into the trunk. Her legs were curled in a C shape underneath her, and her face was pale and waxy, but Julia was sure she saw her friend’s eyelids flutter when she moved the light across her face.
“I said back up, Julia!” Navarro ordered.
He reached inside the trunk and stuck his middle and index fingers against the side of Charlotte’s neck.
“It’s weak, but she’s got a pulse,” Navarro said. He dove his hands underneath Charlotte and pulled her limp body out. “Call for a paramedic, Russell. Now.”
CHAPTER 32
Julia held a Styrofoam cup filled with hot water and a tea bag between her hands, as she waited in the hospital visiting area, hoping to see Charlotte.
The events of the previous night now seemed like a blur.
She had returned her family back to the safety of their home in Rochester Hills after Charlotte was found. She and Logan had talked for hours. The two of them sat on the floor by his bed, discussing what had happened in the apartment, his bravery, and his future career aspirations of becoming a policeman, a district attorney, or a professional magician.
A doctor who looked familiar to Julia exited her friend’s room, along with Charlotte’s son and ex-husband, Joe Perkins.
Julia watched on as Perkins put his arm around his child and the two headed to the elevator, a private moment Julia didn’t want to disturb.
The doctor walked in Julia’s direction and his profile became clear, prompting a flashback to when her estranged husband had been treated at the same hospital.
“Julia Gooden. I’d say it’s nice to see you again, but under the circumstances, I don’t think that would be quite appropriate,” Dr. Brian Whitcomb said, and extended his hand. “I hope you and your family are doing well. I understand you’re here to see Charlotte.”
“Yes, she’s a friend of mine. How is she doing?”
“Charlotte is in stable condition. Under the circumstances, she’s extremely lucky to be alive. Still, your friend underwent a horrible ordeal, both physically and mentally. But Charlotte said she would like to see you.”
Dr. Whitcomb turned to leave but stopped to address Julia one last time.
“I don’t mean this in a negative way, but in the greatest respect to you, Julia, I hope I don’t see you at the hospital again anytime soon.”
“No offense on my end either, but the feeling is mutual.”
Julia entered Charlotte’s room and stood witness to the ghost of the pretty, vivacious woman Charlotte had been just a day before. Charlotte lay in her hospital bed staring up at the ceiling, unblinking, looking ashen and wan, with two thick half-moon dark circles under her eyes.
“Charlotte, it’s Julia.”
Julia sat down by the side of Charlotte’s bed and reached for her hand. “I’m here. I’m so sorry about what happened. I know it might not seem like it now, but you’re going to be okay.”
Charlotte continued to look up at the ceiling, not making eye contact, but gave Julia’s hand a weak squeeze.
“You’re a survivor. Don’t forget that. Your son needs you,” Julia said. She felt wooden and struggled for the right words to say, but then recalled Jeremiah Landry’s assessment of her, that she was just like him, a shell, unable to feel or express emotion.
“When you’re ready, you should talk to somebody, a therapist or counselor. They can help you. I waited years to seek counseling myself, and that was a mistake. I told you about what happened to my brother. For a long time, I pushed my feelings way down deep, and it screwed me up. Keeping everything bottled inside can destroy you a little bit each day. If you want to talk about what happened, I’ll be here for you, too.”
Julia ran her fingers over the Peace necklace Charlotte had given her and unclasped it.
“I want you to have this,” Julia said. She opened up her friend’s hand and tucked the necklace inside Charlotte’s palm. “Just like you told me, hold on to it and then pass it on to someone else when you’ve found what you need.”
Charlotte looked to Julia for the first time and started to weep.
“It was so dark in there,” Charlotte said. “It felt like I was buried alive.”
“You’re okay,” Julia said, and put her arms around her friend. “I’ll make sure of it.”
* * *
Julia reached her Rochester Hills house, never feeling happier to be home in her entire life. Navarro’s Chevy Tahoe was parked out front and Julia noticed the SALE PENDING sign was no longer on her front lawn.
She expected her two little boys to come running, but instead, the house was quiet, except for Helen, who was busy in her beloved kitchen, rearranging her pots and pans and unpacking the mounds of boxes she had brought with her to the temporary apartment.
“You are back. How is your friend?” Helen asked.
“Traumatized, but I think she’s going to be okay,” Julia said. She looked out the kitchen window over the sink to her backyard where Logan, Will, and Navarro were shooting hoops.
“I have some news I don’t think you’re going to like,” Helen said. “The Realtor stopped by.”
“I saw a message from her this morning, but I haven’t had a chance to listen to it.”
“The family that was going to buy the house, the father’s job offer fell thr
ough. So they pulled out. I’m sorry. I know you were looking forward to moving closer to the city. We will not move to the other place now, no?”
Julia looked on as Navarro picked up Will and put him on his shoulders so her little boy could reach the basket.
“That house might not be a good fit for us after all.”
“So we stay here?” Helen said.
“Yes. For now.”
“Thank heavens. I am tired of having to box up my kitchen. This place, although you have some bad memories from the past, the good ones you create in the present are all that matter. Your friend, Mr. Ray, he is good with the boys. I see you completely happy for once, Miss Julia. You go out and see your boys. The tall one, too.”
The fall leaves that had strewn across her backyard and desperately needed to be raked crackled under her feet as Julia watched Navarro pretend to miss a block and allowed Logan to run by him and score.
“Hey, Mom, want to play with us?” Logan asked while Navarro gave him a high five for his scoring shot.
“How about a rain check. I hate to break up your game, but I need to borrow your uncle Ray for a minute.”
“We’ll play later,” Navarro promised. “I’ll be ready to take another beating from you two then.”
Julia’s rule was never to talk shop in front of her boys and waited until the glass screen door to the deck closed behind Logan and Will.
“How was the hospital?” Navarro asked.
“It will take time, but I think Charlotte is going to be okay.”
“I’ve got to be honest with you, Gooden. I didn’t think that was going to be a good outcome last night. I’ve seen my share of dead kids who hid in car trunks and suffocated. And they were in a bigger space.”
“How come you think Charlotte survived?”
“That trunk Landry put her in was ancient. It was pretty beat-up and there were a couple decent-sized holes in the back that Landry probably didn’t know were there. Charlotte was lucky.”
“So, Detective, it was an unexpected surprise finding you here when I pulled in.”
“You said I had an open invitation on the weekend.”
“That you do. How long do we have you for?”
“I filled out most of the paperwork for the LaBeau and Landry cases, and Russell said he’d do the rest. He was asking about a double date with your sister and us. I told him I’d have to run that by you first.”
“That’s still a union I can’t understand, but they seem happy, so I won’t judge. I’ve got some news. The sale on my house fell through.”
“I’m sorry. I know you were excited about moving closer to the city.”
“Maybe everything is working out for the best. We may actually stay here or look for a bigger place.”
“The house you wanted to buy seemed plenty big to me, but that’s coming from a guy who lives in a one-bedroom apartment.”
“About that. Maybe we’d like to have you around more often.”
“Are you serious, Julia?”
“I’d need to talk to the kids, but it feels right. Is that something you’d want to do?”
“I’d love it more than anything. You’re absolutely sure about this?”
“A hundred percent. We could look for a place together as a family in the city. A fresh start, unless you want to stay here.”
“The department doesn’t have residency requirements, so I don’t have to live in the city limits. But there’s one thing. I’d want to make it right by you and Logan and Will.”
Julia looked on at the gentle giant in front of her, the man she had lived with and loved as a younger woman, and the man who had stayed her loyal friend after they broke up. Navarro had always been the one person who had never let her down. Or left her side.
Julia was certain of one thing. Helen was right. With Ray and her boys, Julia was happier than she’d ever been.
Navarro lifted Julia up and kissed her. Julia closed her eyes, thinking this was one of the moments, the beautiful ones, a life ahead being created on a cold October Michigan morning in a backyard where bad memories that had once lingered were now gone.
“I’m going to make you so happy, Julia,” Navarro said. “You and your boys.”
“You already do. We have all the time in the world to figure things out. By the way, Helen comes along with the package deal with the Gooden family.”
Navarro gave Julia his perfect smile. “She’ll keep me in line, and we’ll all eat well. It’s going to be a beautiful life. I promise.”
* * *
Julia jogged in place, waiting for her date who zipped out of the garage in his orange two-wheeler. She waved back at the bay window to Will and Navarro and started to sprint to catch up with Logan, who was almost halfway up the block already for their run/bike ride.
“Stay in the bike lane,” Julia said as she kept pace next to her son.
“You’re on the road, not the sidewalk.”
“Consider me your buffer.” Julia looked away from the road ahead, and the potential dangers that she once was sure were always lurking.
Instead, she took in the image of her oldest son, his dark hair shining in the sun like liquid black gold.
“Come on, Julia. We’ve got twenty whole dollars to spend today. I earned the money by mowing Mr. Cole’s lawn. I lied and told him I was twelve. If he knew I was only nine, he’d think I was too little to work hard. We’re going to have a great day for once, kid. I promise. I’m going to make everything good for you.”
The voice of her brother from long ago echoed in her head, and she reached inside her waist pack for the baseball Jeremiah Landry had taken from Ben’s grave.
The ache for her brother was still there. It would always be. But she knew the pain that she still felt wasn’t going to kill her.
She’d learned if you held a bad memory too tightly, you could squeeze out the beauty that was once part of it, too.
“Hey, kiddo. I need to make a pit stop,” Julia told Logan, who was making it a point to ride a few feet ahead of his mother, like a sheepdog tending its flock.
“If you want to go to the cemetery, it’s okay. I’ll go with you.”
Logan leaned his orange bike against the wrought-iron fence of the Sunset Hills Cemetery and mother and son walked silently past the tidy rows of gravestones until they reached the back lot, where Benjamin Gooden Jr., a little boy whose biggest dreams had been to see the New York Yankees reach the World Series and to keep his little sister safe, was laid to rest.
Julia carefully took the baseball out and placed it by her brother’s grave. She felt the tears come, and this time, she didn’t try and hide them from the outside world.
“You know, you remind me a lot of my brother. He was brave and loyal, just like you.”
“Are you crying, Mom? You never cry.”
Julia smiled at her little boy and recalled Roseline telling her she needed to let her brother go, that it was time for him to pass, but part of him would always be watching out for her. Whether that was true or not, Julia knew what she had to do.
“You saved my life back at the apartment. I wouldn’t be here if you hadn’t been so smart and courageous. Thank you for protecting me.”
Logan smiled his crooked smile, the same one Julia had seen her brother give her as he raced in front of her on the boardwalk so many years ago, always looking behind him to be sure she was safe.
The flapping of what sounded like a thousand wings beating in unison startled Julia, and she looked on to a grove of trees in the woods behind the back row of gravestones. She reached for Logan’s hand as a flock of blackbirds shot up from the branches and then scattered across the sky, flying back and forth in what seemed like a random, uneven pattern, until they conjoined in perfect formation, instinctively knowing the way to go.
Julia watched on until the blackbirds flew to the farthest point on the horizon, looking like a tiny dot, until they disappeared out of sight.
“They’re flying away for the winter, but they
always come back,” Logan said. “They never leave for good.”
* * *
Julia and Logan returned to the house, where Logan immediately ran to the backyard to play basketball.
Julia went inside where she was greeted by Helen, who put her index finger up to her thin lips and motioned her head to the living room, where Julia could see Navarro on the sofa with Will laying on his chest, both of them fast asleep.
“I don’t think Ray has really slept in three days,” Julia whispered. “Logan is in the backyard. I’m going into my office to do some writing.”
Julia savored the moment and looked on at the life she had now, one created from the ashes that learned how to burn bright again.
Inside her office, Julia opened an e-mail from her book editor, asking how things were going with the revision of her manuscript.
This time, she was ready.
She opened up the file and started a new Chapter 1.
Thirty years ago, my brother, Ben, was kidnapped from the room we shared. He meant everything to me.
This is his story.
And my story, too.
You Fit the Pattern Page 30