by Jon Mills
He sighed. “Taking an abductor off the streets would appease them.”
“We ruled out that theory,” she said.
“That’s debatable.”
She scoffed. “Like everything else about this case.”
He offered a faint smile and leaned forward. Silence stretched between them.
“Accept, decline, to be honest, sir, either way I have to step away from this investigation.” She paused and her chin dropped. “My father called to say my mother has died. Suicide.”
His eyes widened, and then an expression crossed his face as if he was wondering if her resignation letter had anything to do with that. It hadn’t. She’d presented it several days before she received the bad news.
“I’m sorry to hear that, Kara. I gather you’ll be heading home?”
“My flight leaves this afternoon.”
“Listen, if there is anything I can do. Just…”
“I appreciate that, sir.”
He looked down at the envelope in front of him. “Leave this with me. Go home. Be with your family. Think it over. We’ll speak again in a week. If you still feel the same I will process your request.” He tapped a pen against it. “However, from one friend to another, I think you’d be making a huge mistake. Regarding the investigation, I understand your concerns and I’m not blind to the challenges we’ve faced working with the family and the DA’s office but you know as well as I do, we do everything we can, we gather evidence and try to determine if a person didn’t do it, but if they won’t confess, we have to place that suspect to one side while we search for more evidence or consider other alternatives, such as the abductor theory, and even then, we might not get it. The fact is, Walker, sometimes the guilty walk away free.”
Chapter 2
Three years. That’s how long it had been since the divorce. She and Michael had been on relatively good terms since the separation. They shared custody of their thirteen-year-old son, Ethan. He’d have him every other Christmas, on the March break, and every other weekend, as well as nights when she was bogged down in an investigation. Over the past year, he’d spent more time there than at her home. Despite the way their marriage ended, they had always been on the same page over how they raised their son. It was a joint effort and one that Michael took seriously. The SUV bounced up the curb into the driveway of his red-brick, three-bedroom home that he now shared with Laura, his new wife. In the time they’d been together, Ethan had never returned home complaining about her. He liked her, said she was funny and kind. On the few times Kara met her, it was awkward but Laura came across as friendly. Even though there were times she felt a twinge of jealousy that Michael had moved on with his life, she never brought it up and tried to remain polite.
That day she was there to collect Ethan after a long stretch of working the Swanson case. Unfortunately, he was now going to have to stay longer due to the funeral. Kara hadn’t told them. Ethan had taken the divorce hard and although he didn’t show it, there had been a few times he’d broken down, and blamed both of them. In the first year he’d acted up at school but once he came to terms with it, he just dealt with it the way any other child of divorce did.
With the engine idling she sat there for a minute or two watching them through the thin drapes. She’d often wondered how her ten-year marriage would have gone had she quit the department earlier. Her mother had told her that it wouldn’t have mattered, that they would have eventually separated but that didn’t stop her from imagining a different outcome.
Then of course there was the aspect of coming home to an empty house. It took her a few years to settle into the new way of living but it wasn’t easy. Juggling her career and taking care of her son was hard enough when Michael was living with them, as he had his own career as an EMT, but throw a separation into the fold and it presented some unique challenges.
Even though Ethan and several of her co-workers had encouraged her to start dating again, the desire wasn’t there. It hadn’t been there in a long time and she wasn’t sure why. It wasn’t that she didn’t like the idea of crawling into bed beside a warm body when she came off a long shift, but she just didn’t think it was fair. Her line of work kept her out at all hours of the day and night, and even when she did finish a shift, she never clocked out in her mind. That was part of the reason why her marriage had broken down. She just couldn’t switch off, and so it was only a matter of time before Michael started to feel their relationship was being neglected. Still, at thirty-nine she wasn’t getting any younger. She figured if she didn’t find someone soon, she’d lose whatever spark that had originally attracted Michael.
Kara pushed out of the vehicle, and headed up the snaked pathway to the front door. She pressed the bell and heard Ethan’s voice. Michael answered the door. He was thirty-eight, short and stocky with mousy brown hair that was shaved at the sides. One look and he could tell something was not right. Behind him Ethan was crouched, and in the middle of tying his sneakers. He glanced up for a second, flashing a grin.
“Hey darling,” Kara said. “You had a good time?”
He nodded but didn’t say anything. Since he had turned thirteen, she barely got a nod or a grunt out of him. When he wasn’t sitting in front of his computer he was glued to his phone so conversation usually amounted to two words — yes and no.
Michael thumbed over his shoulder. “Yeah, I took him fishing.”
She nodded and smiled. Michael had always been good at getting him outdoors and away from technology. In the background Kara saw Laura walk past. She smiled, waved, then disappeared into the living room. She was the perfect trophy wife. Slender, young and apparently an expert chef in the kitchen. What more could a man ask for?
“Ethan, I need a chat with your dad.”
He stopped tying and the smile vanished. Whenever she said that he knew what it meant. He pulled off his shoes and before she could explain Michael stepped out and closed the door behind him.
His brow pinched. “What’s going on?”
Distracted by her kid’s reaction she stepped back and looked across to his neighbor’s yard, taking a second to reset. “My mother passed away a few days ago. It was suicide.”
He ran a hand over his face and stepped down off the front step.
“Geesh. I’m sorry. I guess you’ll be taking him with you to the funeral?”
“Actually I was hoping you could keep him for a few days longer.”
He sighed. “Kara. I have work commitments.”
“What about Laura?” she asked.
“Both of us work. I was able to get a few days off so we could have a long weekend but…”
“He’ll be fine. As long as he has a key to the place.”
“You want me to leave him here alone?” he asked.
“You said Laura works until five. I’ll give you some more money for after school child care.”
“But…”
“Michael, I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important,” she added.
“Why don’t you just take him with you? I’m sure he’d want to go to his grandmother’s funeral.”
“Under any other circumstances, yes. But my father isn’t in a good state and I know it’s going to be down to me to deal with her personal affairs. Besides, I’m…”
She snapped the red elastic band around her wrist. It was used as a form of therapy for anxiety. Ever since her brother had been abducted she’d had trouble focusing, sleeping and dealing with stress. For a while she was able to hide it in order to pass the testing for entry into the State Police but within a matter of years in the field it had returned. She’d now found new ways to cope. The elastic band was one, and the other was taking meds like Zoloft.
Michael glanced at her wrist.
He shifted his weight from one foot to the next and ran a hand through his hair.
“Do you know how it happened?” he asked.
“Details are vague. My father wasn’t in the right frame of mind to talk about it over the phone. He said he found h
er in the basement hanging from the rafters. The funeral is tomorrow. I leave this afternoon.”
“How do you feel?” he asked.
He’d been the first person to ask that. And to be honest, she really didn’t know. Her relationship with her parents had weakened since Charlie’s abduction. Both of them dealt with it in different ways. Although they were distraught for a long time her mother soon funneled all her energy into searching for Charlie while her father struggled to cope, retreating into himself and wanting to move on, with the belief that Charlie was dead.
She shrugged. “Tired.”
“I got your message yesterday about you resigning. Did you go through with it?” he asked.
“I handed it in, whether they accept it or not is another matter. Stephens wants me to think about it. He says I haven’t given it enough thought.”
“Have you?” Michael asked.
“You know I have. Heck, I shouldn’t have even got involved in that case to begin with.”
She looked off and switched the conversation back to the matter at hand. “So can he stay longer?”
“Of course he can. You know that.”
He stepped closer and Kara had a sense that he wanted to give her a hug so she stepped away. “Well I should get home and pack. I have to leave soon.”
“Don’t you want to see Ethan before you leave?”
Her mind was a whirlwind. She nodded, and he went back inside. A minute later Ethan came out, pulling the door shut behind him. He slumped down on the concrete step and fumbled with his phone. Kara took a seat beside him and they glanced at the neighbor’s house. Michael lived on a beautiful street in the heart of Peekskill, called Bleakly Drive. Oak trees lined either side and arched over like fingers joining together. It was an up-and-coming suburb, a new subdivision that had been developed only a few years back. It was safe, which was all that mattered to Kara.
“When are you coming back?” Ethan asked.
She wrapped an arm around his shoulders and pulled him in close.
“In a couple of days.”
“That’s what you said, a week ago.”
She sucked air between her teeth and sighed. “I know.”
She never intended for her work to consume her but it had and Michael wasn’t the only one who had suffered for it. That’s why so many in her department were divorced. It wasn’t a job that people could switch off from when they came home. The images, the interviews, the back and forth with lawyers drained her.
“Is it the investigation?”
“No, it’s grandma.” She took a second to swallow her tears. “She’s passed away.”
Ethan nodded, his head dropped. He hugged her. “It’s gonna be okay, Mom.”
She smiled. That was just like him. He was able to see the light in the darkness long before she could. Kara kissed her son on the head and fished into her pocket for some cash. “Here, take this. Make sure you listen to your father. No giving them any problems. I’ll phone you each night, okay?”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“I want to.”
She gave him one more hug, and he headed back in. Michael stepped outside.
“Have a safe flight.”
“Thank you.” She gave a strained smile, headed back to her vehicle and reversed out. Michael stayed on the step with his hands tucked into his pockets, and she was sure she caught Ethan glance out the window as the SUV pulled away.
Chapter 3
On Tuesday, one day after news of her mother’s death, Kara arrived in Blackmore on Washington State’s Olympic Peninsula. Blackmore was named after its founder, Henry Blackmore, and sandwiched between Forks and Port Angeles in Clallam County. She’d flown into Seattle-Tacoma International Airport, arriving late at night, and stayed in a nearby hotel. Then she rented an SUV the next morning and traveled the two and a half hours’ trip into the city. Why they called it a city was unknown as it was more like a small town with only seven thousand citizens. There were even fewer back in 1870 when the town had grown from a remote collection of farms into what it was today — a timber town. As the SUV passed through Port Angeles, memories of taking day trips to the beach with her mother Anna and friends came back. She’d been there through all the highs and lows of growing into a woman; her first period, her first boyfriend, the breakup and the stress of exams. There was something very nostalgic about visiting the places they’d shared.
As she continued on through Olympic National Park, and was swallowed by thousands of acres of dense forest, it brought back the terror of that night. The claustrophobic feeling and fear of a stranger prowling the streets had set the whole county on high alert. It was one of the many reasons why she’d moved across the country as soon she turned twenty. Her mother understood, her father just shook his head with that same look of disappointment.
She thought things would change when they arrested Kyle Harris for the abduction of her brother, but it hadn’t. While her father accepted the harsh reality, her mother didn’t believe it. She wouldn’t accept that he was dead, that her youngest had been taken. Whereas in the years after the abduction she’d thrown herself into campaigning, searching, holding candlelight vigils and being very vocal as an advocate for child safety, that all changed when a jury handed down the sentence of life imprisonment to Harris. Anna retreated and on the few times that Kara was able to pull herself away from her work in New York, she’d noticed a change in her mother. Finding out what had happened to Charlie had become an obsession.
Kara pulled into a truck stop a few miles from the outskirts of Blackmore. As she stepped out, the smells and sights of Olympic National Park overwhelmed her senses. The familiar scent of tall cedars, salty air, and dampness swung her back to her childhood. She groaned. Her head was pounding from a tension headache. She just needed a coffee, some Tylenol, and a few minutes of shut-eye before she continued on. It had been over five years since she’d been back. On the few times she’d managed to pull herself away from her work, she’d taken a vacation with Michael and Ethan. Her mother and father had only seen Ethan a few times over the past thirteen years. Although she wished he could have spent more time with them, her mother just wasn’t in the right headspace, and talking to her father was like talking to a wall. Although he acted as if Charlie’s abduction hadn’t affected him as badly as her mother, that wasn’t the truth. It was just different.
“What can I get you, darling?” a waitress said, snapping Kara out of a daze.
“Oh, uh, just coffee, black, and some whole wheat toast.”
“Coming right up.” She scrawled on her pad, smiled and sauntered away.
Kara fished into her handbag and pulled out some headache medication. She tossed two back with a glass of water then glanced out at the truckers as they came streaming in and filled up on gas. The long eighteen-wheelers were loaded with stacks of thick pine trunks. She’d often wondered if the man who’d abducted Charlie was a trucker. Had he been passing through? At the time, the FBI had created a profile of a white man in his late twenties to early thirties, a loner, someone who worked a low-skill job and probably had a low self-image. She’d never seen his face but his gruff voice had stuck with her. Even as she worked different homicide and abduction cases she’d always paid attention to the voice, wondering if he’d left Blackmore after the abduction, traveled to another state and continued his rampage of terror.
The bell above the door let out a shrill as three large truckers, overweight and in their early fifties, came in. White hair protruded from below dirty baseball caps. All three wore checkered shirts, and smelled like they hadn’t taken a bath in several days. That was one thing she’d recalled — the musky cologne he’d worn. It was overpowering. They’d actually smelled it before they even saw him.
One of the truckers glanced at her, tipped his hat and they took a seat on the far side of the café. A composite sketch had been created years later, but that came from a witness who had come forward in the days and weeks after the abduction to say they
had seen a suspicious-looking man staring at children in the nearby mall leading up to that night. Two kids had been approached and offered twenty bucks to help a man look for his kid but they’d refused and walked away.
Kara didn’t carry around the old composite sketch of the suspect the way her mother had, that was because it was ingrained in her head. Still from time to time she would bring it up on her phone and look at it, but only on the days she was dealing with a suspect that made her do a doubletake. The truth was there was no telling who or where the perpetrator was or even if he looked anything like the sketch now. By now he would have been in his mid fifties.
By the time the waitress returned with her order, the medication was starting to kick in. She rolled her head around as another wave of tiredness hit her. Two years of going like a bat out of hell had begun to catch up with her. Her thoughts were scattered, unorganized and instead of feeling in control as she had been for many years, she’d found herself bursting into tears for no reason. Of course she did that in private, away from the eyes of her colleagues or son.
Kara’s phone started buzzing. She glanced at the caller ID, it was her father.
“Where are you?” he asked.
“About twenty minutes away, having coffee.”
“Why?”
She shook her head. “Because I’m tired, Dad. I have a cracking headache.”
“But you arrived last night.”
“I didn’t sleep well.”
“Well hurry up because the wake starts in an hour. Burial is at two.”
Kara glanced at her wristwatch. She’d been dragging her feet, making sure she arrived a few minutes before the wake because she didn’t want to get into it with her father. It was always the same. It didn’t matter how many times she phoned, it was never enough and visiting, well that had become a subject she wouldn’t even go near. It didn’t serve to argue with him as he never heard anyone except his own voice. She wouldn’t have minded if he’d showed her some attention but in the few times she’d returned home he’d kept his distance, only coming out of his office when it was dinner. For all her mother’s faults, and need to keep talking about what she’d recently discovered in the case, at least she showed an interest in what Kara was doing with her life.