The Thief of All Light

by Bernard Schaffer

  “Oh, stop. That wasn’t your problem to deal with. You had other things to worry about.” She leaned back against the window counter, “You think he stuck around this area?”

  “His parents wouldn’t have left, and he’s a few years younger than you are. I wouldn’t be surprised if he still lived with them. A child growing up after an experience like that would be stunted in many ways. Underdeveloped. Probably doesn’t work and has trouble fitting in with society.”

  Behind the station door, they could hear someone coming down the hallway, a pair of thick soled boots squeaking on the station’s tile floor. They heard a man’s voice ask, “What did they say they wanted?”

  The clerk’s response was muffled to keep them from hearing, but the man’s reaction was loud. “You’re kidding me. We’ll see about this.” The station’s door flew open and a uniformed officer came barreling through, eyes wide and angry. “You want to tell me what the hell is going on? Who are you, lady? What are you looking me and my family up for?”

  As Carrie moved to show him her badge, she saw the name embroidered across his shirt. Lloyd. He stopped cold when his eyes fell on Rein, his voice thin and full of disbelief when he said, “Detective Rein?”

  Rein stared back at the man. “Alan? Is that you?”

  “You’re damn right it is!” Lloyd laughed, throwing his arms wide for a tight embrace. “What are you doing here?”

  “I . . . came to see how you were doing,” Rein said, stepping back to look him over. “Somebody told me you were a police officer now, and I just had to come see it for myself.”

  “Coming up on my first year already.” He pointed at Carrie and said, “Is he with you? You working again, Detective? Mabel said something about a homicide investigation?”

  Rein turned around to look at the clerk sitting behind the window and flashed her a large smile, saying, “Homicide? No, that was just . . . part of the joke. I’m sorry, sweetheart. I just wanted to surprise Alan. Did I scare you?” The old woman laughed nervously and shook her head, holding her hand up to her heart and patting it a few times.

  “It worked though, didn’t it?” Rein said, pointing at Lloyd. “You came out here ready to raise hell.”

  “You got me.” Lloyd grinned. “Shit. Listen, do you want to come in for a bit? I’m just wrapping things up for my shift, but maybe we could go out, grab a bite to eat?”

  “I’d love to, Alan, but unfortunately I have to get going. Here, give me your card and I’ll give you a call in a few days. Let’s get together.”

  “That would be fantastic,” Lloyd said, pulling his card out of his uniform pocket. He clicked his pen and started writing his cell phone number on the back of it. “I’ve been doing my own investigations. I’m really getting into it. I’d love to pick your brain about some of the things I’m working on.”

  “No problem. It would be my pleasure,” Rein said, taking the card and handing it to Carrie. “Hey, you still staying with your folks in town here?”

  “For now. We don’t start making the big bucks until we reach full salary.”

  “I remember what that was like,” Rein said. “How is Mom? Anna, if I recall.”

  “She’s good. Real glad I became a cop and decided to help people.”

  Rein clapped him on the arm. “It was good seeing you, Alan. I’ll be in touch.”

  Lloyd embraced him again and said, “I’m looking forward to it, Detective.”

  As they exited the station, Carrie was watching Rein, seeing how his expression hardened the moment he’d turned away from Officer Lloyd. “That was a nice piece of police work, finding out he still lived out here with his parents.”

  “That was nothing,” Rein said. “I can’t believe they let that kid have a badge and a gun. What a bunch of assholes.”

  Carrie clicked on her keys to open the car doors and said, “You think he’s our doer?”

  “Him?” Rein looked back at the station. “No.”

  Carrie slid into the driver’s seat. “How do you know?”

  “The killer knows what he is and what he’s done. If it was Alan, he’d view me as an immediate threat, especially if I showed up out of the blue on his home turf. Imagine if someone you’d arrested for a serious crime showed up at your front door one day, asking how you’d been?”

  “He seemed genuinely happy to see you,” Carrie said, adjusting her mirror before backing out of the spot.

  “I wish I could say the same.”

  “Why?”

  “You can’t go through what he went through and not suffer severe psychological effects, Carrie. Add all the pressures of the job onto that, the shift work, the trauma we experience, and it’s just a matter of time before something goes wrong.”

  “Maybe he’s just on some good meds. Now that I think about it, stunted and underdeveloped is a good way to describe most of the cops I work with.”

  The front door of the station popped open and Lloyd came out, looking for them. He saw Carrie’s car and hurried after it, coming around to Rein’s side as he leaned down and caught his breath. “You know, I need to tell you this. It’s your fault.”

  Rein looked up at him. “What is?”

  “Me doing this,” he said, pointing at his uniform. “Becoming a cop.”

  “How so?”

  “What you said to me in the hospital. Do you remember?”

  “Kind of,” Rein said. “I think I told you to try your best not to let this ruin your life. Clearly you didn’t listen to me when you decided to become a cop.”

  “No, it was more than that. A lot more than that,” Lloyd said. “You told me there were monsters in this world, real monsters, and they bite children. You said that some kids, when they get bitten, they turn into monsters too. You told me you didn’t want to see that happen to me. Then you said that sometimes, when a monster bites you, you become immune to it forever after. You told me that it was their job to protect children, because we are the only ones who don’t have anything to be afraid of anymore.”

  Rein stared at the young man but did not speak.

  “Anyway,” Lloyd said, laughing at himself, “that’s why I’m here. I guess you were just trying to cheer me up back then, but I took it serious.” He put his hand on Rein’s arm and said, “It’s good to have you back, sir. We need you.”

  Carrie waved to Lloyd as he stepped back from the car, keeping her eyes fixed on the road as Rein slumped in his seat, rubbing his temples. “You okay, Grizzly Adams?”

  He turned toward her, “Do you even know who Grizzly Adams was?”

  “I know he had a big beard.”

  After a few minutes, Rein said, “You know, that person he’s talking about, that’s not me. Not anymore.”

  “Of course it is.”

  “Not after what I did. When you do something like that, everything else goes away.”

  “I don’t believe that. One mistake doesn’t undo all the good you did, Jacob. All those kids you saved. All those parents you got justice for. Look what you’re doing now. You’re still fighting monsters, and I for one am glad, because we need you on our side, just like Lloyd said.”

  “Monsters,” he whispered. “I killed a child, Carrie. A little girl. At night I lay there thinking about what she’d be doing if she were alive right now. I see other little girls her age and I want to claw my own eyes out. I can’t ever forget what I am. I won’t let myself ever forget what I am. To that little girl and her family, I am the monster.”

  19

  THE SUN HUNG LOW OVER THE ROW HOMES’ ROOFTOPS, CASTING golden light over the trash cans and telephone poles on either side. Carrie turned the wheel toward the curb in front of Rein’s house, feeling cool evening air sweep through her car’s open windows. They’d been driving all day, and she needed a shower. They both did.

  Chicano music blared from boom boxes set up in front yards up and down the street. The air was thick with smoke from grills stacked high with meat. It was Saturday night. The whole block reeked of beer.
<
br />   “You’ll check the driver’s license photos on all those names from the library to pick out the white males, right?” Rein asked.

  “I’ll get started on that tonight.”

  “Then run criminal histories, previous contacts, and pay extra attention to the ones with mental health issues.”

  “I will.”

  “And tomorrow night you’re going to the club?”

  “That’s the plan. You’re coming with me, right?”

  He paused. “I’m not sure you need my help anymore, Carrie.”

  “Rein, I know you don’t think you should be doing this, but I need you to listen to me right now. You killed a little girl. That’s what this is all about. You killed a little girl and nothing can make that right.”

  Rein’s jaw tightened, but he did not speak. ”That guilt has been eating you away for years. Christ, you even went to prison when you didn’t have to. It sucks, and there’s nothing that will fix it, and I get it.” She turned in her seat toward him. “Right now there is a little girl missing out there, and she’s probably in the hands of some maniac. A perfect, precious little girl who deserves to live, Jacob. The same way the little girl you feel so guilty about did. That’s what I’m asking you to help me do. You accidentally took one life away. I know you’re sorry about it, but it can’t be changed. What I’m asking you to do now is help me get one back.”

  “You know,” Rein said, “you can’t manipulate me that easily, Carrie. But it was a nice try.”

  “Oh, come on, Rein. That was perfect.”

  “It was acceptable. A little heavy-handed.”

  “Can you just help me?”

  A broken-down lawn mower was parked near the sidewalk on one of the front yards. Its engine lay disassembled in the grass. No one had bothered to cover it up. The spark plugs were fouled. The oil inside of it had turned to tar in the summer heat. It would never run again. Whoever had worked on it had even left their tools behind. A few wrenches and pliers. Good tools, once, but long since rusted shut. All of it so useless that no one in the neighborhood had bothered to steal it. “I’ll think about it,” Rein said. “Go home get some sleep. You look like hell.”

  She watched him get out of the car and said, “You look like hell, except with a beard.”

  As she pulled away, she glanced at Rein in her rearview mirror and saw him staring down at one of the large piles of trash on the street. He grabbed a dirty duffel bag from the trash and started scooping up books and papers dumped on top of the other refuse. Rein lifted his head toward the house and shouted, “What did you idiots do?”

  Four dark-skinned men were sitting in lawn chairs on the grass, drinking beers. One smiled at him and said, “You moving out today, man.”

  “Like hell,” Rein said, stuffing his things inside the bag.

  “Bed’s already gone.”

  “How is the bed already gone? I paid for the week.”

  “Since you like Inmigración so much, you go with her, huh?” he said, pointing his beer at Carrie’s car. The other cackled with laughter.

  “Hey, ese,” another said, “I give you my bed if you send your bitch up here. Tell her I want to see her pussy.”

  Rein was up the steps in a flash, going for the nearest man’s throat. Tires screeched on the asphalt behind him, and Carrie came leaping up the steps, grabbing the back of his shirt, shouting, “Hey! It’s not worth it, Rein! Come on, let’s go.”

  She dragged him down the front steps toward her car and opened the door for him, pushing until he was seated. She could hear the men jeering and cursing at her in Spanish but ignored them, wanting only to get back in her car and get the hell out of there. “Those dirty pieces of shit,” she said as she slammed the door shut. “Did you get all your stuff?”

  “I didn’t have much,” he said.

  “I’m calling ICE Monday morning. We’ll see how much they’re laughing when I shut their employer down. You’ll see.”

  “It’s not worth it,” Rein said. “You were right.”

  “They can’t just do that to you.”

  He slumped back in his seat and said, “No one would blame them.”

  * * *

  An hour later, they pulled into the Hansen Terrace Condominiums lot. The security gate was raised and disabled, its long arms extended high over the guard house on either side. “They told us we’d have twenty-four-hour security when I bought this place,” Carrie said, easing her car over the first speed bump. “Then the builder’s financing fell through.”

  Rein looked around the parking lot and the multistory buildings. There were terraces outside of each window, many of them decorated with lights or garden boxes. He grabbed his bag as she parked the car, then followed her to the lobby door. A sign reading KEYCARDS DO NOT WORK was taped to the glass, and Carrie sifted through her keys in the dim light, trying to find the right one.

  They made their way up to the fourth floor, and Carrie paused before opening her door. “It’s not much, and I wasn’t expecting company, so excuse any mess you see.”

  He stood in the doorway, watching her fling her purse onto the couch and pick up a coffee mug from the table, a magazine from the floor, and a bra draped over one of the pillows. She balled up the bra in her hands to get it out of sight, then looked up and noticed Rein hadn’t moved. “Well? Come on.”

  “I’m not sure this is a good idea.”

  “You have any other ideas?”

  “I could get a hotel room.”

  “Can you afford a hotel room?”

  “What does one cost around here?”

  “About a hundred bucks, plus you need a major credit card.”

  “Then, no. Probably not.”

  “Do you even have a phone to call someone?”

  “No.”

  “Then that settles it. You’re staying here,” she said, moving toward the front door to close it behind him. “Can’t have you roaming the streets, now, can I?”

  He looked around at her decorations and furniture. There wasn’t much, but she’d made the most of what she had. “This is nice,” he said.

  Carrie felt her stomach grumbling and laid her hand flat against it, saying, “I just realized we haven’t eaten all day. Christ, I’m hungry. You must be starving.”

  Rein set his bag near the front door, hovering around it as if he might make an escape at any moment, nervously running his palm over the coarse hairs covering his chin and cheeks.

  “You do eat, don’t you?” she called out from the kitchen.

  “Sometimes.”

  “What do you eat?” she said, opening her refrigerator and bending over to look inside.

  “Lately, just Mexican food.”

  “I bet.” She laughed. “I have pasta. Or I can make hamburgers.” When he didn’t answer she looked up and said, “PB and J? I’ll even cut the crusts off if you want.” She leaned out of the kitchen, seeing that he still had not come in, and put her hands on her hips. “Listen, Duck Dynasty, you can be weird about this if you want, but tonight you’re getting a hot meal, a shower, and a place to sleep. Comprende?”

  “Sí, comprendo,” he grunted. “Feels like home already.”

  “So what’s it gonna be? Do I need to keep looking, or should we just order pizza?”

  Rein looked down at his dirty boots and said, “Burgers.”

  “My favorite!” Carrie said. “Excellent choice.” She looked down at his filthy, grass-stained boots and said, “Take those disgusting things off and leave them by the door.”

  Rein scratched his face again and looked down at the laces. They were shredded at the ends, and one was broken so short he could tie only a single loop. He carefully undid the threads and placed his boots next to his bag by the door, looking down at his exposed toes through the large holes in his socks. He had one other pair in his bag, but they were worse. Of the two, these were the good ones. “You know, if you’re having a psychotic episode, we should call someone,” he said.

  She stood up, staring at him
from across the kitchen counter. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “You’re obviously in a state of hysteria and denial. Delusional happiness, some would call it.”

  “I’m not delusional,” she said, turning back to the stove. “I had an epiphany at the library today.”

  “Is that right?”

  “It was like this voice spoke to me, telling me to hang in there and have faith,” she said over her shoulder. “That everything is going to be all right.”

  “I see.”

  “And no matter what, not you or anybody else is going to talk me out of it, okay?”

  He wiggled his toes, feeling the soft, plush carpet under his feet and was amazed at how good it felt. He worked in his boots and slept in them too, for fear that someone would steal them.

  Carrie glanced back at him, then down at the bag, and said, “I’m guessing you don’t have much in the way of comfortable clothes in there, do you?”

  “Another set of work clothes and some underwear,” he said.

  “Stand by,” she said, reaching into the freezer and pulling out a box of hamburgers. She dropped four onto the frying pan, and said, “Just stand by.”

  He watched her disappear into the bedroom and come back out several minutes later with an armful of clothing. “I dated this guy last year, and he left some stuff here. These should fit. I always meant to give it all to my dad, but I keep making excuses not to go over there.”

  He took the pair of sweatpants, a T-shirt, and thick white socks that felt softer than the blanket he slept under at the row home. “You sure?”

  “Sure I’m sure. They’re yours. Go get changed in the bathroom and I’ll get dinner going.”

  Rein shuffled toward the bathroom, holding the soft clothing close to his chest. He stopped at the door and looked back at Carrie. The grill was on, and steam was coming up from the burgers. “I have a question.”

  “Shoot,” she said.

  “What’s a Duck Dynasty?”

  * * *

  Two hours later, the lights were off except for the television. Carrie shut it down, laid the remote on the table, and slid herself off the couch. She picked up their plates and cups and carried them into the kitchen, listening to Rein’s rhythmic snores. She gathered up a pillow and blanket from her bedroom closet and carried them out, setting the pillow down. She tapped him lightly on the shoulder and said, “Go ahead and lie down. Get some sleep.”