by Jon Mills
“Really?” His eyebrow shot up, a look of astonishment. He gazed around for a second shaking his head and crossing to the stairs. He paused on the bottom step. “Oh, did you throw everything out like I asked?”
Kara nodded then rolled her head around. Her father mumbled something and trudged upstairs. She wiped drool from the side of her jaw and took a few minutes to stretch the ache from her body. A lightning bolt of pain shot through her head and she groaned. She looked down at all the paperwork she’d scoured through the night before and the connections her mother had made in the disappearance of four boys over the last twenty-five years. They weren’t from Clallam County but there was a possibility they were linked. What did catch Kara’s attention was they all were similar in nature to Charlie’s abduction. All occurred on the evening of Halloween and each abduction was spread apart by a period of five years, and if she was reading her mother’s notes right, she believed he would take another one on Halloween.
Still eager to read through more of the material but wanting to speak with Sam, and get in her run, she climbed the stairs and got ready to head out. In her old bedroom she pulled back the drapes and took in the sight of the morning. It was gloomy out, the sky was gray, and cumulous clouds rolled in giving her a sense that a storm was coming.
Kara pulled her bag onto the bed and took out her running gear, she slipped into it, donned her windbreaker and tugged on her running sneakers. Then, after going downstairs, she headed out before her father started harping on about clearing out the basement. She knew it was coming. Maybe he wouldn’t throw out her mother’s clothes but if the expression on his face was anything to go by, the evidence wall would have to go.
An hour later, after taking a shower, she headed into the kitchen. Her father was sitting at the round table reading through the local paper. Behind him were a number of colorful photographs along the wall that revealed their life before Charlie’s abduction. No more family photos were taken after that day. It was as if time stood still and enjoying life had become a guilty pleasure. There were two windows above the sink that looked out to the driveway along the east side of the home. Off to the right was the door that led into the mud room. Hanging over the handle on the stove was her mother’s apron. She didn’t wear it often. Her father was holding a cup of coffee, wearing his old mechanic overalls and looking as if he was getting ready to head out for work.
“Coffee is in the pot.”
She studied him for a second as she crossed the kitchen, her brow pinched. “You haven’t worn those in years.”
“Well I can’t sit around here all day,” he said reaching for his cigarettes. He coughed a few times as he lit one. He’d been smoking since she was a kid. Her mother had always been harping on at him to quit but he said it was too late. The damage was done. Fact was he was too old and set in his ways to change. Change was for infomercial junkies and life was living, he would say. To which her mother would reply, if you keep smoking you won’t be living. He would just tut and ignore her.
“But Dad, you don’t work anymore?”
She was wondering if he was struggling with his memory.
“I know that. I have to change the oil on the car.”
“Today?”
“Of course today. Why wouldn’t I?”
“But shouldn’t you at least take a few days off?”
“I already have. I can’t sit around here all day.”
That was just like him. His answer for any of life’s problems was to bury himself in distractions and hope it went away. Anna had always been the one that paid the bills, made the doctor’s appointments, dealt with problems as they arose.
“Dad.”
Without looking at her he answered, “She’s gone. I don’t want to be sitting here all day thinking about it. At least if I stay busy I can focus on something else.”
She gave a nod and poured out a cup. There was no point arguing with him. When he made up his mind no one could change it, including her mother. Kara let the coffee cup warm her hands as she leaned against the counter and contemplated how to ask her father about what he knew, if anything at all. Her mother had always been so tight-lipped; she didn’t expect her father to be any different.
“I’ve been meaning to ask you…” She paused for a second, her fingers drumming against the cup.
“Spit it out, Kara.”
“Did mom ever talk to you about what she was doing?”
He looked over the paper, pushed up his round reading glasses. “If you’re referring to that mess downstairs, yes. She wouldn’t shut up about it. I told her she was wasting her time. They already had that animal locked up inside but she wouldn’t listen.” He stared off as if recalling a past conversation with her before looking back. “Seeing you down there this morning reminded me of her.” He shook his head. “I want it all gone today, Kara. You hear me? I don’t want you heading down that path.”
“I didn’t say I was.”
He spoke to her like she was still living under his roof.
“Please, give me some credit. You’re like your mother. When you get something stuck in your head, you won’t let it go.” He took a swig of his coffee and returned to reading the paper. “Anyway, what have you got planned for today?”
She breathed in deeply. “Going to visit Sam.”
“Sam Young?”
“Yeah.”
He shook his head with a look of disapproval. “You might want to rethink that.”
“Why? Something you know I don’t?”
“Guy hasn’t got the best reputation. Let’s just leave it at that.”
“He’s an old friend.”
“Best leave it that way.”
Her father rose from the table and set his glasses down, then headed toward the back door. He opened it and paused. “You’ll deal with the basement stuff today, right?”
“Later.”
He nodded then headed out. She watched him from the kitchen window push up the garage door and disappear inside. Kara pulled out her phone and placed a call to the number Bobby had given her for Sam.
The phone rang several times and she was about to hang up when a male answered, he sounded half asleep.
“Hello?” he croaked.
“Sam?”
“Who is this?”
“It’s Kara. Kara Walker.”
There was a long pause.
“Right.” She heard him scoff. “Kara? Well if you aren’t a blast from the past. Who gave you my number?”
“Bobby.”
He groaned. “Of course. What can I do for you?”
“I was hoping to catch up with you today. You know, talk. Maybe go for a coffee?”
Again a break.
“Sam?” she said again.
“I’m here. Look I don’t think today’s a good day.”
He coughed, and then she heard him spit.
“When is?”
“I dunno. Um…”
She heard some woman in the background call out to him, Sam must have put the phone to his chest as she heard him tell her to keep it down. When he got back on the line he groaned like it was a huge chore to go and have a coffee with a friend.
“Look, what about lunch time?” she asked. “I’m not in Blackmore long. For old times’ sake.”
He sighed. “I’m sorry about your mother,” he said dodging the question. He sniffed hard. “Alright. You got transportation?”
“Yep.”
“Swing by Sunrise Trailers around noon. Mine is number 28.”
“Got it.”
He hung up before she could say any more. She glanced at her watch, it was a little after eight. She had some time to kill. She tossed the remainder of the bitter coffee in the sink and went back to the basement to continue delving into the files.
Sunrise Trailer Park was located on the outskirts of Blackmore. It had existed for as long as Kara could remember. Unlike some of the newer mobile home parks that had emerged over the years offering up-to-date facilities, breathtakin
g views of the harbor and spacious abodes, Sunrise was associated with the working class and impoverished people. She’d known a few people from school who’d grown up there. They were the type of kids that came to school without food in their stomachs and were known troublemakers. Of course that didn’t reflect every family that lived there but it only took one bad apple to ruin the bunch. That’s what she assumed her father was referring to when she spoke of Sam. Back in her teens she recalled him harping on about police getting called out there at all hours to break up domestics and telling her to stay clear of the place. As she veered onto the vast expanse of green fields and narrow roads, she noticed the one-story office on site looked better than the thirty-two units neatly arranged, twenty-five feet apart and nestled in a dip just on the other side of Coal Creek Road.
The homes didn’t look like typical run-down metal trailers, at least not like the ones she remembered. The first batch she saw as she drove in was conventional, prefabricated in various colors, modern as if trying to appeal to new clientele. As she followed the road that curved around, she soon realized it was just a front for what lay behind it. It was as run-down as it could get. Peeling paint on water-stained metal shelters that looked like old fishing boats with a roof. Trash cans were overfilled, and litter blew across the dust-covered ground like tumbleweeds. Most had faded American flags hanging from posts outside their small porches; a few were being used as drapes to keep the light out. Several homeowners sat outside in their folding chairs sipping on beer, observing her as she drove past. Happy hour had started early.
Kara spotted Sam’s trailer and parked outside. To find him living in this part of the town was disheartening. He’d come from a good home. They weren’t wealthy but then again neither were any of their families. But his parents had held down steady jobs and were considered respectable members of the community, at least until the abduction.
Before she got out of the SUV, the metal door on his trailer swung open and a woman, dressed in cut-off Daisy Duke shorts and a tight white T-shirt, jumped out clutching a bag that was spilling over with clothes.
“Fuck you, Sam.”
Kara watched with keen interest as more clothes were thrown over the top of her head and Sam emerged looking weathered by time. He hadn’t grown much. He was a short ass even as a kid. Five foot four. His once tidy buzzed hair had been replaced by long dirty-blond locks that were pulled up into a man bun. He was wearing a ratty pair of jeans, yellowed workman boots and a muscle T-shirt. His skin was overly tanned, typical for anyone working in construction. He was also sporting a heavy beard.
“And take this shit with you,” he said flinging out a bong that shattered on the ground. The woman hopped into an old beat-up Ford truck, stuck up her finger at him and peeled out at a high rate of speed leaving a plume of dust behind. Sam stood there, one hand on hip, the other against his trailer, then punched the door. Kara got out and leaned against her car.
“I see your taste in women hasn’t changed,” she said smirking at him.
He glanced over, and squinted through the dust.
“And neither has your timing.” He glanced at his watch then smiled. He made his way over and gave her a hug, then stepped back and took a look at her like a father might do with a long-lost child.
“Damn, you turned out fine. I always told your brother you were a fine bit of ass.”
She gave him a slap on the chest, then pointed to his eye which was sporting a shiner. He reached up. “Comes with the territory. Come on in, I’ll make you some coffee.”
“I thought we could go for lunch?”
He stopped halfway between her car and the trailer, then looked at back his shithole of a place. “You buying?”
She nodded, her lip curling up at the corner.
“Then let me just grab a shirt and my smokes.”
He disappeared inside while she gazed up at the gunmetal sky. Her eyes fell upon a neighbor, a young guy sitting outside in a heavy jacket. He was wearing a cowboy hat and was drinking a hot drink. Steam swirled up around his face. He gave a nod and she returned the gesture as Sam came out with one arm in his shirt and a cigarette hanging from his lips.
“I swear this place is going downhill,” he said hopping in the passenger side and running his hands over paint-splattered jeans. “Used to be full of respectable, honest, hard-working folks. Now it’s just full of young’uns who want to live off welfare.”
She fired up the engine.
“How’s your mom?”
“Ah, she’s doing okay. Getting on in years.”
“I heard about Tom. Sorry.”
He shrugged. “Yeah, she took it real hard. We all did. Amazing, isn’t it? You take your parents for granted when they’re alive but after they’re gone you would do anything to bring them back, even if it was for just an hour.”
Sam dipped his head and sniffed hard as Kara backed out.
“So you working?”
“Off and on. Mostly roofing in the summer. Winters tend to be slower months so I do some painting and construction. But don’t get me wrong, when I don’t work, it’s not because I don’t want to work. No. I’m not like all those losers living off the government. I pay my way. Always pay my bills on time. Well lately, it’s been a little hard but I just can’t seem to land much.”
“Bobby said you’re in construction?”
“I’m into anything that pays me good money.” He cracked the window and blew out smoke. “Sorry, I should have asked.”
“That’s fine. It’s a rental.”
He chuckled. “Oh, then they won’t mind me doing this,” he said placing his dirty boots on the dashboard. He grinned. He still hadn’t grown up. Everything was one big joke to him.
“No, but I do. Get them off,” she said in a strong tone with a smirk on her face. Kara headed back to town on Carlisle Street. It was one of the main roads that cut through the town, it ran parallel to Main Street. They drove past Westborough, the road that went near Fairground Woods. Sam cast a glance down there.
“You been back there since you’ve returned?”
“Nope.”
“Not at all?”
She shook her head. He nodded and glanced out, taking out sunglasses as the bright noon sun peered out from under the belly of dark clouds.
“I’ve gone back there a few times. At first it was just to see it again. I guess somewhere in the back of my mind, it didn’t feel real. The other times after that were just to reminisce. You know, to try and make sense of it.” He sighed. “I still can’t, I mean make sense of it. He could have taken any one of us. Why him?” There was a pause as if he was chewing it over or waiting for her to answer. “He would have been my age by now. Probably married with four kids. We would have gone out for drinks a couple times a week. Who knows, right?”
“Yep,” Kara said.
“You married?”
“Was. Been separated for three years.”
“Kids?”
“One. A boy. Thirteen.”
He nodded, an expression of approval.
“You ever worried about him?”
She chuckled. “All the time.”
“Where is he now?”
“With his father.”
He nodded looking out the window. “So did he sleep with someone else?”
She laughed. “I wish it was that easy. No, I don’t have anyone to blame except myself.” He looked as if he was waiting for clarification, so she continued. “My work. Keeps me busy.”
“Ah right. I hear you’re a big-shot detective?”
“First, no. Second, who told you that?”
“Despite my lowly residence, Kara, I can read and I do follow the news.”
She chuckled.
“And, well, there was your mother.”
Kara looked at him. “You as well?”
He took another hard drag on his cigarette. “I gotta give it to that woman. She was one determined lady. She was sure she was gonna find Charlie’s abductor.” He shook his head
. “Damn pity.” He squinted at the road sign. “Where you heading?”
“Rosie’s Place.”
“No. It’s not there anymore.”
She shot him a glance. “What?”
“It burned down eight years ago.” He frowned. “Seriously, Kara, when was the last time you were back in Blackmore?”
“A long while ago. It was a brief visit.”
She didn’t want to make him feel bad. She thought back to the few times she’d returned. Initially in the early days, when Ethan was small, she would do the rounds, go visit old friends, but as her work and family life took over she hadn’t returned and with the cost of flights, and then the breakup of her marriage — well she didn’t exactly want to deal with all the questions. A few of her gal pals had contacted her on Facebook and invited her to a school reunion, and she had considered it but then the thought of looking like a sad sack and having to answer the same question about her marriage didn’t appeal to her.
“Here, hang a left on Herald Street. I know a good spot. They do these monster pancakes.” He tipped his head back. “You gotta try them.”
Chapter 10
The Cliffhouse restaurant had originally been an inn but after a drop in bookings and a string of bad reviews they closed up shop and it was bought by Ginger Rollins, a widow in her early sixties whose late husband had a dream of owning his own diner. She now lived above and worked in the kitchen, cooking up a storm, but only opening a few days a week. All of which were packed due to her home-cooked meals.
The diner was filled with fresh flowers, framed newspaper clippings of historic events from the area, movie photos and knock-off paintings. She greeted everyone by name, and by the looks of it ran a tight ship with only two waitstaff.
“Did you believe her?” Kara asked as she leaned over her cup of coffee. “My mother, I mean.”
Sam was getting ready to tuck into a monstrous pile of bacon and syrup-covered pancakes with a side dish of cream and strawberries.
“Oh yeah,” he said. He washed down a mouthful with coffee and tucked into the next bite like he hadn’t eaten in a week, then continued. “Hell, she even got me looking into it. I should show you some of what I managed to dig up.” He paused for a second and jabbed his fork out in front of him. “That guy. Kyle Harris. I don’t believe he did it.”