I'm Still Here: A Novel

by Jon Mills

  Kara tried to put her father’s fears to rest.

  “They’ll handle it, Dad.”

  “I don’t want you stirring up trouble. Your mother did enough of that.”

  “The woman came at me. What do you expect me to do?”

  “But you must have antagonized her.”

  “I was having a drink.” She shook her head, scooping up more papers.

  “With Bobby Evans. That’s another one you should stay clear of.”

  “He’s an old friend, Dad.”

  Kara looked down at the paperwork and tried to make sense of it all and stack it in an orderly fashion. It was now out of sequence and making heads or tails of it was going to be near impossible. She’d already waded through a lot of it but there was more to get through. Kara thumbed off sheets into different piles. It was going to take hours, probably another day. “Besides, this break-in might not have even been Mary,” Kara said.

  Her father look perplexed then his eyes widened. “Oh, don’t you start that. The man responsible for Charlie is locked away.”

  “And what if it’s not him, Dad?”

  He shook his head. “You know what? I’m not listening.”

  “Is that what you did to mom?”

  “Still not listening.”

  “Geesh. I’m surprised she didn’t kick your ass to the curb.”

  “She tried, I never got further than the couch.”

  That got a laugh out of her and she was sure he smiled.

  She placed handfuls of paperwork on the desk.

  “You know she didn’t blame you,” her father said.

  “Certainly seemed that way.”

  “She was hurting. We all were.”

  “She ignored me, Dad,” Kara said lifting the computer back onto the table. She plugged it in to see if it was still working. The light blinked on, and it whirled up.

  “You weren’t the only one.” He drew a breath. “She just didn’t know how to deal with the pain.”

  “And you did?”

  “We had different ways of approaching it.” He pulled out his cigarettes and lit one. “I miss Charlie every day but if I dwelt on it, it would have destroyed me.”

  “Is that why you accepted Kyle Harris as his abductor? You just wanted it to be over?”

  He gazed at the wall where there was a collage of photos of their family. Her mother had created it, months after the incident. She thought if she didn’t see the family complete, she would lose her mind. That’s what drove her on — the belief that one day they’d be reunited.

  He father replied, “He couldn’t provide a reason for why Charlie’s things were on his property.”

  “Believe me, Dad, after having chased these types of assholes for the better part of sixteen years, I can tell you that there are a lot of innocent people that get dragged into these cases, and if they’re lucky they escape with their reputation intact, others wind up fighting for their lives in a courtroom.”

  He watched her as she tried to piece together the map that had been torn in two. Pin tacks were everywhere. Fortunately, Kara had taken photos of everything with her phone just in case her father took it upon himself to trash it while she was out. It was the photos, paperwork and notes, and the order they were in, that had mattered to her.

  “You got a broom?” she asked.

  He got up and trudged upstairs, and returned a few minutes later.

  “So, I saw the work you did with the cases out in New York.”

  She eyed him skeptically. “You followed them?”

  “Look, just because I didn’t get on the phone and talk to you every time, it doesn’t mean that I’m not interested in your life.”

  She scoffed. “You have a funny way of showing it.”

  He took a hard drag on his cigarette.

  “So what did Michael have to say?” he asked.

  “About mom’s death?”

  He nodded.

  “He was sympathetic.”

  Her father sighed. “You know I really liked him.”

  She smiled as she brushed the tacks into a pile and scooped them up. “I know you did. He still asks about you.”

  “Does Michael like the woman he’s dating? What’s her name again?”

  “Laura. And yes. He does. In fact they got married. I don’t know if that’s a good thing or not.”

  “So what about you?”

  “What about me?”

  “You going to Goodman’s home for dinner tonight.”

  She stopped sweeping and leaned against the broom and smiled. “Were you listening?”

  “It’s these newfangled hearing aids.”

  “You don’t wear one.”

  He laughed then blew out his cheeks before getting a dead-serious expression on his face. “Man, when it rains it pours.”

  Kara followed his gaze to the graffiti on the wall.

  “That’s going to take more than elbow grease to get that off,” he said.

  “Perhaps it’s time to repaint,” she said. “You were always going on about remodeling the basement.”

  “Not sure I will. Thinking of selling the house.”

  “But…”

  “The only reason we stayed was because of your brother. Your mom thought if he ever made his way home, he’d know where to find us. But now she’s gone.” His head dipped. She tried to shift the topic away.

  “Actually I was thinking of staying in tonight. Getting some Chinese.”

  “Please. You’d rather spend time with your old man than Goodman?”

  She shrugged. “Not sure I’m interested.”

  “You’re thirty-nine. Guys like that don’t come along that often. Besides, I’m going out tonight.”

  Kara twisted. “To where?”

  “The bar.”

  “C’mon, Dad. I don’t want to be called away because you’ve got into a fight with someone. I think we’ve tainted the Walker name enough.”

  He laughed, and headed upstairs. Kara continued clearing up, thinking about the invite from Goodman. He was a good-looking man, certainly would understand her line of work. She shook her head, don’t read too much into it, she told herself.

  Chapter 17

  It had been years since he’d cooked for anyone beside himself. Noah fished out a beer from the fridge, cracked the top off and took a hard swig. He kept eyeing the clock as he darted furiously around the kitchen grabbing ingredients. He wasn’t lying about the steaks. The woman at the meat store he went to had misheard him and grabbed four marinated steaks instead of two. He couldn’t fault her as he did have a large wad of gum in his mouth at the time, and it was unusually busy that day with a crowd of people putting in their requests. Instead of having her unwrap it all he just bought them all.

  Next door the sudden sound of pounding music got a rise out of him.

  “No, no, no, not tonight,” he said tossing the dish towel over his shoulder and heading to the door that led out into a long hallway on the second floor of the apartment building. After losing Amanda he couldn’t handle staying in their old house so he sold it and moved into an upscale apartment block on the west side. It had been touted as catering to those with a taste for the finer things in life. The brochure the real estate agent handed him made it look real good. She tossed out words like hipsters, modern, stylish. Noah figured the kind of people renting there would be similar — he was wrong, so wrong.

  “Jamal!” He banged on the door four times before it popped open. An African American with thick dreadlocks and wearing sunglasses opened the door. The aroma of marijuana wafted out, hitting him hard. The first time he’d smelled it he was all ready to bust him, and then he found out he had a medical license, something to do with not sleeping well. It was all bullcrap but he didn’t hold it over his head. Many of the states were starting to legalize it. He figured he’d have to get used to the dank smell.

  “Mr. Goodman. How are you this evening?” he said in a thick Jamaican accent with a large spliff hanging out the corner of his l
ips. He was wearing torn jeans, flip flops and a tie-dyed T-shirt. Behind him were two sultry-looking women. He’d invited him to join him one night, said there was plenty to go around, but Noah politely declined. If he wasn’t hearing his music, he could hear him getting it on. He hated the nights they came over. The two women howled into the early hours of the morning. He had to buy ear plugs in the end but that made it difficult to hear his radio in the morning.

  “I need you to drop the music down a few notches. I’ve got company.”

  “Ah?” He leaned out and looked down the hallway as if expecting to see someone. “A few honeys?”

  “Look, just lower the music.”

  “You got it, mon!”

  He winked and Noah walked away shaking his head. As he was making his way back, the elevator doors at the far end of the hallway opened and out she came. Great, he wasn’t even ready. Fortunately she was looking down at her phone. He darted back into his apartment and shot around the room like the cartoon Tasmanian Devil, grabbing up anything and everything that was out of place, looked dusty, dirty or was liable to raise questions about his hygiene. He dashed into his bedroom and shoved it all in the closet, slamming it shut just as there was a knock at the door. He glanced at himself in the full-length mirror. He’d slipped into a pair of jeans, and a simple white V-neck T-shirt. He ran his tongue around his teeth to make sure they were clean, breathed into his hand and smelled it. Okay, she’s just here for dinner. He tossed the dish towel behind the door, and scooped up some cologne and splashed some on his neck after the second knock. He cleared his throat and took a deep breath. Okay, you can do this. You can do this. He crossed the room and opened the door.

  “Hi,” she said, offering a smile that made him relax, if only for a few seconds. She was wearing a leather jacket, tight jeans, ankle boots, and a dark brown top that showed off her figure. In her hand was a bottle of red wine.

  He waved her in. “Thanks for coming. Glad you could make it.” He ducked his head out the door and noticed Jamal was still outside his apartment eyeing him. Jamal gave another wink and a suggestive smile, and Noah rolled his eyes and closed the door.

  “I’ll take your jacket.” He took it and hung it up. He sniffed. Shoot, I forgot to spray deodorant around. As he made his way into the kitchen he spotted a single sock sticking out from under the recliner chair. He gave it a shove with his foot. A bead of sweat ran down his back.

  “Nice place you have. I don’t remember this apartment block being here.”

  “No, it went up a few years back. Was meant to attract the wealthy but they settled for anyone who would pay their rent.”

  She chuckled. He smiled. Kara scanned the room like anyone in unfamiliar territory. As he moved past her he caught the smell of her perfume. It was sweet. He liked it. Focus, he told himself crossing the room and trying to think about what he was meant to say. He was never good with entertaining. After Amanda’s death, he’d got on a diet of microwave dinners and eating out. It was easier. It was only in the last year he’d got back into cooking. Not that he was any good.

  “Can I get you a drink?”

  “Oh I brought some wine.”

  She handed it to him and he stared at it like he knew his wines. He had absolutely no idea. Amanda had always gone for that while he opted for beer. “Thanks.”

  The aroma of the steaks caught his attention and he turned down the temperature.

  “You live alone?”

  “I do,” he replied as he flipped the steaks. They sizzled and he stepped away and looked at her again. She looked relaxed as she walked further into apartment.

  “Nice place. How long you been here?”

  “Three years.” He jammed a wine opener into the top and popped the cork. He took down a couple of wineglasses and filled them halfway. He glanced at her from the corner of his eye. She was definitely easy on the eyes.

  He handed her a glass and she took a sip. “Can I give you a hand?” she asked.

  “No. It’s fine. Just make yourself at home.”

  She wandered over to the bookshelf, which was filled with old books, the kind that might be found in a used bookstore. She ran her fingers along the spines and turned her head to the side to read the titles. “You collect?”

  “They belonged to my wife. She died three years ago.”

  Kara turned with a pained expression.

  “I’m sorry.”

  He offered back a thin smile and went back to checking on the food. He emptied out the potatoes into a colander. Steam spiraled up around his face. He flipped the steaks again and watched her browse around his apartment. The place wasn’t huge. Two bedrooms. He could have gone for a one-bedroom, but in the event his sister or parents visited, they wouldn’t have to suffer with a bad back in the morning. The second room when it wasn’t being used he’d turned into a work space for photography. It was the one thing he could get lost in, the one thing that allowed him to get out of his head.

  She glanced in the room and looked as if she was teetering on asking him a question.

  “Those are mine,” he said.

  “Beautiful. Do you mind?”

  Her waved her on in. “Go ahead.”

  Kara walked in and he followed with his wine in hand. Hanging up in various frames all over the wall were some of his best. The dense forest of Olympic National Park, waterfalls, the beach, cliffs and sunsets — ones that he’d submitted to magazines and newspapers. If he hadn’t gone into policing, photography would have been something he would have liked to pursue.

  “If they ever fire you, well, you know—”

  He took a sip of wine. “Oh, there’s not the need like there used to be.”

  “How so?”

  “Everyone and his uncle has a camera phone. Why pay an expensive photographer when you can do it yourself?”

  “But there’s snapping a shot, and snapping a shot,” she said.

  “I know but it’s easier than ever before. I have a friend of mine who’s in the photography business. We go out from time to time. He mainly does school shots, weddings and the odd family who wants to update their album but he says it’s very much a hand-to-mouth existence.”

  “Ah, but less stress I imagine.”

  “Tell him that. He’s bald.”

  She chuckled. “So what got you into it?”

  “Well it certainly wasn’t taking photos of crime scenes, that’s for sure.” He smiled leaning against the doorway. The fading light of the day filtered in through a crack in the drapes, casting shadows against the side of Kara’s face. “Amanda.” He pointed to several photos of sunsets. “Those were hers.” He sighed. “I guess I needed an outlet. Well you would know. You remember filling out all those forms when you applied for the police? Them wanting to know what kind of outlet you had because of the stress this job involves? I wrote down photography.”

  “And were you taking photos then?”

  “No. But once Amanda got me into it, it became like a form of meditation for me, you could say. As you can see most are from Olympic National Park. I like to get out there when I can. Lets me clear my head. Sometimes I think about the cases I’m working on but more often than not photography lets me switch off. It replaces the dark images in my mind with something of beauty.”

  Kara nodded. “Yeah, we do get to see the underbelly of this world a little too often.”

  “And you?” he asked. “What do you?”

  “Run. I run. Gets the blood pumping.” As her eyes scanned the photographs she stopped in front of one and swallowed. It was a shot he’d taken of Fairground Forest. He noted her reaction. A pinched expression appeared on her face

  “Have you been back there?” he asked. She never replied as if lost in the past.

  “Kara?” He repeated it twice before she seemed to snap out of it.

  She shook her head. “Um, what did you say?”

  “I said have you been back there?”

  “I’ve been near there but, no, I can’t bring myself to go b
ack up there.”

  He nodded slowly. “Well I think dinner is ready.”

  Noah quickly changed the subject and wandered back into the kitchen to get everything ready. “I thought we could eat on the balcony. That is if it’s not too cold tonight. There is an incredible view of the lake.”

  She slid the door open and stepped out.

  Noah gathered everything and brought out bowls and placed them on the placemats beside the condiments. He returned for the bottle of wine and inwardly prayed that none of it ended up on his white shirt. No sooner had he sat down than the boom of music started up again.

  “You’ve got to be joking!” he said tossing down his napkin. Kara’s eyes widened. “Sorry, it’s my dopey neighbor. I tell him about it all the time. He forgets. I swear he has a memory like a sieve.”

  Noah was just about to hammer on the wall with his fist when Kara laughed. “Hey, don’t worry. I like reggae.”

  “You do?”

  “Sure.”

  He cocked his head. “Okay. But if it’s too much, just give me the word and I’ll…”

  “It’s fine. Take a seat.”

  He returned to the meal and over the course of the next thirty minutes, they chatted about what took her out to New York, and her involvement with the State Police. The conversation flowed with ease, like two colleagues; except he couldn’t help notice his attraction to her. Soon the conversation circled around to her mother.

  “So how did you meet her?”

  “Interesting story actually. She showed up wanting to speak with Robert Smith, the sheriff that handled the original case.” Noah made a waving motion with his hand. “He’s retired, most of them have. Anyway, I’d just wrapped up a big case and was taking some downtime, if you can even call it that, when Lucas our undersheriff thought he would pawn her off to me without telling me the backstory of how she’d been showing up week after week with tips.” He took a sip of his wine. “So fast-forward three hours later, I came out of the interview room feeling I’d been interrogated by her. From then on out, she would always ask for me. She refused to give the tips to anyone else.”

  Kara smiled and stared into her wine.

  He continued, “I never knew about the wall of evidence she’d collected. I knew she was speaking with locals and had even put an ad in the newspaper for people to call her if they had any information.”