Goodbye, Good Girl

by Renee Blossom

  Upon returning to her sister, Amelia stirred and turned on her back, opening her eyes a little.

  Kandace guided Amelia’s head to her lap. “I talked to Dad—”

  “You didn’t tell me that!” Amelia sat up, drowned in sunlight from the far window. “He’s coming home?”

  “Maybe. I tried him earlier to tell him about Mom and the man that broke in. He didn’t answer. He didn’t tell us what to do if anyone came looking for him.”

  “Call him again,” Amelia said.

  Kandace put her phone to her ear. “Voicemail.”

  “Do you think the man will come back?”

  “I hope not,” Kandace said. Would she and her sisters ever be totally safe? What did Volvo Man want? Staying at Vivian's house meant a new and unknown location, if Volvo Man did come again. But still. It was a risk.

  Kandace refused to sit around and wait for the next visit.

  She knew where to go next, but first she had to collect things at home and drop off Amelia at V’s house. Then she could visit her oldest friend.

  Markus Legler lived in his parents’ basement—a short term arrangement.

  Kandace entered the house through the side door, descended the stairs and paused to adapt—cold, and clammy with an unidentifiable odor she never could get used to, even though she had been coming over since first grade.

  She glanced out the small window at ground level. She’d been paranoid the entire drive over that she had been followed.

  “Who’s there?” Markus asked. “Babe? That you?”

  “I’m not your babe.” Kandace’s Asics kicked shag carpet. “Where is your girlfriend, anyway?”

  “Liz is at home, sleeping. She still won’t drink coffee,” he said.

  “That situation is tragic.”

  Markus nodded and said nothing more. Old computers and parts he worked tirelessly to restore were organized on card tables. There were new and old computers, used for various coding projects. A smartphone restoration collection; his end goal was getting a phone working on a cell carrier for free.

  “What’s going on?”

  “I need your help.”

  “Will you be nice to me?” Markus asked.

  “I’m always nice to you.”

  “You’re generalizing. Always implies that your statement is utterly and entirely true. I know as indisputable the fact that you are not always nice to me. I can cite examples!”

  “This isn’t camp, like when we were kids,” Kandace said. “I have something important.”

  Silence lingered several seconds until Markus spun around and whistled. “You look… nice. Are you on Snapchat yet? Instagram?”

  Kandace looked down at her running clothes. She knew she garnered lingering eyes—which had started all of a sudden the summer before last—but she pretended not to notice most of them.

  “Uh, thanks. I think. And no to social media.”

  “You could earn a killing making dance videos. Pole dancing has gotten huge.”

  Kandace huffed and batted at her hair, then fitted her hands to her hips, shifting her weight to one foot. “Yes, but it’s not what you’re thinking, mister. It’s for fitness. And I’m not dancing online for ogling eyes. No way.” She pushed a slip of paper across Markus’s computer desk. “Please look at this.”

  He studied it. “What’s in this for me?”

  “It’s about my dad.”

  Markus stared at the torn slip of paper, then studied Kandace. Seconds passed while he said nothing.

  “It’s a PA license plate number,” Markus said. “What do you want me to do with it?”

  “A man broke into the house and threatened me. He’s looking for my dad. That’s his tag. A black Volvo.”

  “No shit.”

  “I wish I were making it up. My mom’s in the hospital too.”

  “Hmm. Your dad and me need to go fishing again.” Markus turned, cracked his knuckles, his hands addressing the keyboard with affection and reverence.

  “How was computer camp in New York?” Kandace asked.

  “Amazing. Red Bull. Code. Repeat.”

  “So, no one slept?”

  “Nada. There were only five of us and no one wanted to relent,” he said while using several monitors simultaneously.

  Kandace accepted that she would never understand all he did with a computer, but he usually came in handy. Last year he had downloaded her friends’ class schedules during registration, so Kandace could match hers to theirs.

  “You told the cops, right?” Markus asked while his short, stubby fingers typed.

  “Sure. But what good does that do?”

  “Creates a record. If the guy broke in while you were home, man, that’s ballsy. Police can’t ignore it.”

  “He was armed. I got the gist he wasn’t afraid.” Kandace paused and watched Markus enter shorthand commands. “So, who is he?”

  “Don’t worry. This guy can’t be half as hard as your dad to find.”

  “About my dad… can you find him? I mean, really find him?”

  “He moves around too much. Might be international.”

  “I know, but… do you really think he’s a chef?”

  “Your dad knows way too much about guns to be just a chef, and you know that.” Markus forced a little laugh. “From what I discovered about him over the last month, nothing is out of the question.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Markus kept his eyes on the screen. “Look… I know I said I wouldn’t, but… I never actually stopped looking for your dad.” He cleared his throat. “And I didn’t want to worry you, but I don’t think I’m the only one.”

  “You think more than just this guy today? He’s the first that I’ve seen and it will seriously freak me out if more people are coming for him.”

  “I’d say there’s more, based on activity. Your dad was a ranger and specialized, held high security clearance. All those skills drive up demand.”

  “So, what are you saying? The guy this morning wasn’t friendly at all.”

  Markus held up his hand. “Hang on. I need to concentrate.”

  So, my father isn’t at all who I think?

  Kandace browsed through text messages from her father. She counted eleven in two months’ time. Why was he so hard to reach?

  She turned her attention back to Markus. “Can’t you find out from the DMV?”

  “Sure, if I wanted to get caught. Can’t have that. I’m getting help.”

  “You’re recruiting?” Kandace asked.

  “Of course. We might be small, but the Wolf Pack can take down anyone as long as we’re a strategic and cohesive attack.”

  “Are these your MIT peeps?”

  “One is at MIT.”

  “FYI, I’m in a hurry.”

  “Yeah, well, forgive me but it’ll take a long-ass while, so make yourself comfortable.”

  Kandace glanced at her watch and fidgeted. She checked her phone again.

  “Stop twitching back there,” Markus said. “Have a seat if you’re sticking around.”

  “More than an hour?”

  “Yeah. I’m not sure what you’re gonna do with more information, though. Guess you could tell your dad.”

  “Sure. The conversation would go like… Hi Dad. Guess who stopped by today? Yeah, perfect. Maybe this is why he’s never told me where he lives.”

  “True. At least your dad has one super reason to come home.”

  She stared at him and made a face. “You mean besides his family?”

  Markus stopped and spun in his chair. “Oh. Of course. Sorry. Don’t take it the wrong way.”

  “So, it’s serious?”

  “Well, I’ve not seen him since he left town. To me that’s a big deal.”

  “Shut up. He won’t come home for you if he’s not coming back for me first,” Kandace said.

  “I’m his adopted son.”

  Kandace rolled her eyes. “That joke is so worn out. So, who is this guy?”

  “Well,
the infamous Volvo is rented by a ghost corp… blah blah blah. You don’t want the exact deals, but your visitor’s DoD clearance is sky high, above top secret. Maybe CIA, maybe NSA. Whatever he wants, it’s a big deal because this guy’s services are expensive.”

  “Wait… Dad’s been saying for years that he’s out of the military. Are you saying he’s still in? I’m confused.”

  “He’s into a ton of things,” Markus said and spun back to the computer to resume working. “And just so you know, this information costs a fortune.”

  “You can add it to my tab.”

  “Sure. I’ll be dead before you can pay me.”

  4

  Three hours. Markus sipped black coffee and worked at his computer.

  Kandace napped on a black bean bag with a hole in the side that leaked white pellets. When she woke at 2 pm, she helped herself to an overly sweet iced tea, ignoring the microwaveable products, the Sam’s Club plastic container of Danishes. Kandace considered turning on the flat screen TV attached to the wall but feared that might distract Markus. She considered leaving for Rachelle’s. And for food. Thinking of her mother made her anxious. Remembering Volvo Man made her hesitate. He had to be out there. Kandace couldn’t decide if she were more worried about Volvo Man’s next action—or what her father had done to attract attention.

  What did this man’s sudden intrusion mean about her father?

  Her emotions wrestled—was it safe for her father to come home? Staying quiet made every lingering thought more intense, more real.

  “So…” Kandace said. “I’m trying hard not to bug you.”

  “Ironically, I had an unexpected lead on your father.”

  “And?” Kandace asked.

  “A gala event in Germany. Total dumb luck. He was the head chef, using a Dutch alias. What’s that tell ya?” He cursed the computer then mumbled.

  “Why would a cook use an alias?”

  “Hide his identity.”

  “So, he’s in Germany?”

  “Not likely. That event was months ago. No reported deaths, so that might rule out assassin as a possibility.” He blew a bubble with his gum. “Damn. And I was just starting to think I knew the guy.”

  “But if he used a fake name, how do you know it was him?”

  “It’s kinda technical, but government agencies use fake names from a database. We start searching from there. Your dad’s alias had activity, so we checked into it. Voila.” He gulped his coffee. “He won’t use the same alias twice.”

  “So, CIA theories? That all you got?”

  “Your dad is an ideal recruit for that type of work. Just saying.”

  “He cooked in Prague,” Kandace said. “New York. Those were real. So, he’s a chef.”

  “He might stand around in the kitchen looking for ways to poison people for all we know.”

  Kandace cracked her knuckles. “Now you’re just pissing me off on purpose.”

  “Okay, okay. He does cook, but it’s not full-time.”

  “Whatever. Back to the hunter.”

  He scoffed. “I brought you the cat’s ass. On a silver platter.”

  Kandace laughed a little. “I thought it was a cat’s meow.”

  “The ass is way better. Trust me.” Markus changed the screen, and a name and address showed in a simple green typeface: Sean Clayton. A dozen phone numbers, several addresses and bank account numbers, credit card numbers, work history. “Here’s your villain.”

  “I need all that?” Kandace asked.

  “Oh, that’s useful for getting other information, like his location. If we get his smartphone’s SIM card we will always know where he is.”

  “Whoa. Can we give the police his location so they can go arrest him?”

  The hacker smirked. “Don’t overestimate the swine. Even if they arrest him, he will make bail and disappear. It’s significantly better to spy on him.”

  “You’re dangerous. I hope you’re not spying on me.”

  “Oh, you know I can.”

  “Never mind. How do you track him?” Kandace asked.

  “Say he sleeps at a hotel. Books a flight. Whatever. Electronic transaction. You’ve got the time and date and location.”

  “And where the hell is he right now?”

  “Enhance your calm, Santellan. He’s booked at the Sheraton downtown.”

  “Stupid question, but why is a top secret government agent looking for my dad?”

  “You should have asked him when you met.”

  Kandace rolled her eyes. “Shit. Why do I even talk to you?”

  “I was your first boyfriend.”

  “That was second grade.”

  “Still counts,” he said. “No way to know why Clayton wants your dad. Not yet, at least.”

  Kandace sighed and turned away from the computer, toward the table covered with random parts Markus didn’t have a purpose for. “I’m seriously pissed and hurt right now. He better call me back and tell me what’s going on. And I just talked with him. You’d think he could have warned me.”

  “Ever think that maybe he’s protecting you by not telling you?”

  “Ever think you’re inconsiderate?”

  Markus turned in his chair toward her and watched her a moment. The thought occurred to Kandace that Markus is the closest person she has to a brother.

  “Your willful naivety about your dad is amusing, you know that?” Markus said.

  She wanted to hit him, but stopped herself. “Fine. Say I believe you. Then what?”

  “Easy tiger. Sean Clayton came to the house, which probably means he doesn’t want a record of their interaction, but it’s hard to know.” Markus typed and clicked the trackpad, changing screens once again. “But your dad is active.”

  “In English, please.”

  “What I mean is, nobody hides this well. The Tutor is owned by an LLC. Utilities too. No employment history. All decent leads on him are always into a secure firewall and sick, sick, sick encryption.” He scratched at his face. “Your dad is Jason Bourne.”

  Kandace rolled her eyes. “Markus, you’re such a dork! I’m on edge here. Life and death and you’re having fun. So, will you tell the police about Clayton or not?”

  “If I do that, they will require my source. End of conversation.”

  Kandace teetered on her feet. She couldn’t tame her mind or her emotions as she tried to get her head around her father and her options to find him. Could she protect him? And if she didn’t find him, would she ever know the truth? Was she better off not knowing?

  “Why is your mom back in the hospital?”

  Kandace shook her head. She was surprised at her own emotional instability. “I don’t know what happened. All her monitors were unhooked and she’d… she must have taken too many pills. They were left open, scattered on the bedside table. That’s not like her.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Yeah. Look, I better go. Keep searching okay? Call me later.”

  “Say no more.”

  Kandace slipped behind the wheel of Harriet and watched the street from her mirrors and thought about what to do next.

  She drove to Crazy Mocha, two blocks from the hospital. Sitting outside in the sunshine people watching, she sipped her hot coffee and tried to rediscover peace, but her mind raced and she felt so powerless. She kept asking herself: do I even know my father?

  She thought about calling Amelia at Vivian’s house, but she didn’t know what to say to her sister.

  She thought about what Vivian had said about Ginger—she’s killing herself. Was that true? She shook her head, reliving the conversation. Her mother didn’t want to kill herself—she just wanted her pain to subside. Anyone in the same situation would want that. Ginger needed John at home. V had that part right. If getting her dad home was her best option, how could she do that?

  Her mind launched from worry to worry. Chilly weather didn’t help. Good coffee couldn’t do it all alone.

  Her phone buzzed, a text message from Rachelle.
where u at?sorority party tonight. call me.

  Rachelle had to wait. Kandace called Markus. She’d been gone less than an hour, but waiting around felt a yard short of depression. “Any chance you found something?” she asked. “Because I’m going crazy and I don’t know how to deal with all this.”

  “You wanted intel, here it is. Your dad has a second home somewhere. Maybe Houston. Maybe San Francisco. Maybe Los Angeles.”

  “You suck. I want good news only.”

  “Sorry, again. I am trying to find him.”

  Kandace sat back, watching foot traffic walking by on the sidewalk. Smiling faces came and went. “Why not come home?”

  “Better weather?”

  “Markus!”

  “Okay, sorry. I have no idea why he doesn’t come home.”

  Kandace turned on her seat, distracted by birds, gathered over food someone dropped. “What makes you think he’s got another house?”

  “Well, wherever your dad is holed up, he’s hiding behind a conduit, which makes him nearly impossible to find. He’s most likely in L.A but I’ve not ruled out San Fran or Houston.”

  “I can’t believe my dad has a second house. Can you? Wouldn’t he come home and spend whatever time he’s got off with us?”

  “Ironically, Clayton is our best chance. His next move could tell us where your dad is.”

  Kandace groaned. “That’s serious. Markus. I can’t just sit around waiting… for what? It’s getting dark, and I’m starving, and I don’t want to go to the hospital again, and I don’t know if I can just hang out at Vivian’s house and hope for the best. I’m positive I’m going crazy.”

  “If you need me to push you over the fence then I will.”

  “Ha ha. You can’t fix the problem of me. But thanks for listening.”

  “Sure. Get some rest, take some Valium, and maybe we will know more in a few hours.”

  Kandace cringed as the wind gusted at her back. “Thanks, I’ll stay drug-free.” She hung up, watching fleeting daylight and shadows off buildings and trees grow, overwhelmingly aware of passing time; as though every pretty coat, every leather bootie that crossed her vision were somehow a better life—happy people wrapped in their own happiness.