by J B Murray
“That’s it?”
“ Unfortunately, we’re only staffed so well. And there’s the risk of this storm growing; loosing more people out in those woods. The larger a search party we can gather, the easier this becomes. If we come up empty handed this evening, the chief plans to send in another crew in the morning. Ben Reynolds and Deputy Kursch are already planning to run the search. Calls for volunteers went out a little while ago. It’s the best we can do at the moment.”
“Fine then. Let’s get on with it!”
His father turns from Officer Hall, aggravated for sure, but grateful. Garrison reads these emotions on his face. He for one is grateful for the help. Especially the added help of Beth, Mark and Annalise, though he can’t help feel a little dismayed at her arrival. His emotions are now a roller coaster. He tries to steady his breathing, hoping it will in turn silence the heart pounding loudly in his chest. But he’s grateful none-the-less. Even though he’s sure they won’t find his little brother tonight. No. There’s really no chance of that. But why not hope for just a little while? And the quicker they get finished with this, the sooner he can pick up the real trail.
3
3.
The search proves fruitless. Though Garrison could have just as easily told them from the get-go it would end up like this.
And why hadn’t he told his father about the trail?
Or the police?
About his little brother’s voice?
He isn’t sure. Only that, Brent asked him to come back later. And of course, which of the adults in this situation would have believed him if he told them about it? None of them would.
The search continued for almost another hour while the daylight faded and night time drifted in. Garrison, his father and Annalise emerge from the forest, close to the woodpile, but neither pay it, nor the log marking the actual trail any mind. As the three round the house, a light comes bobbing toward them from within the wood on the south side of the property. They approach Officer Hall and the front porch lights flick on, casting some illumination in the ever-growing dark. Beth and Mark sit on the edge of the stairs.
“Officer Piccone is on the way,” Hall says to Garrison’s father, as he clicks the flashlight off and fastens it to a carbine on his belt. He removes the peaked cap from his head and wipes his brow with an open palm. Even in the cold, the officer’s worked up a sweat from the trek through the woods. “Not much more to do till morning. I’m assuming the three of you came up short as well?”
“Yeah,” his father mutters.
“I don’t want to give you any false hope Mr. Holly. But if the boy is out there, rest assured, we’ll do our damnedest tomorrow to find him.”
“I know.” Tom gazes out across his property a moment. “Thank you.”
“Why don’t you go on in now. Tend to your wife. I can wait out here for my ride.”
“You’re more than welcome to come in until-”
“No, no. That’s all right. Thank you. This now, is family time. You go on.”
“All right,” his father acquiesces, placing a hand on his son’s shoulder and directing him to the front porch stairs. Passing by Officer Hall, his father shakes the man’s hand and thanks him again.
“You’re more than welcome. I’ll be in touch sometime tomorrow, just after daybreak.”
At the door, Garrison turns and watches his father nod at the officer once more.
“Care for some coffee?” Tom asks Annalise’s parents as he mounts the stairs.
“We wouldn’t want to be any trouble,” Beth answers.
“It’d be no trouble. I could use a cup myself. At least come in and warm up a bit. Might do Trish some good to see a familiar face as well.”
“Thanks Tom. We will,” Mark nods.
As his father pushed through the front door, Garrison gazes over the man’s shoulder. He turns and watches the patrol car’s headlights come up the drive with him. They pierce the shadows that linger over the drive, making their way toward the Officer Hall. Annalise slides her hand into Garrison’s and squeezes while her parents continue into the house. He turns and offers a smile. When she smiles back his stomach jumps and at once he’s overwhelmed to tell her about earlier. About how he knows, in some strange way, where Brent might be. But instead, he lowers his head and lets the thought pass for the moment. The two follow Tom and the others indoors as Officer Hall walks down the driveway to meet his partner.
His mother hasn’t left the sofa since the search began. Though now, she’s sound asleep. Her knees drawn up to her chest, with both hands cradling the telephone up near her chin. Garrison thinks she looks peaceful if not just a little on the pale side. His father rubs one of his shoulders, squeezing gently.
“We should go,” Beth insists, seeing Trish curled up on the couch.
“Are you sure,” Tom questions. “I don’t mind making-”
“No, no. You all look exhausted. We don’t want to be a burden.”
“Really, it’s-”
“Nonsense Tom. We’ll be back in the morning. Get some rest.”
While Mark shakes Tom’s hand, Annalise slips over to her mother and whispers in her ear. At first a frown crosses Beth’s face. But it soon softens as if a realization has come over her. She half frowns, half smiles. Despite her better judgment as a mother of a fourteen-year-old girl, she suggests and idea.
“Annalise could stay,” she says, though Mark doesn’t seem too sure of the concept. Not that Annalise had never spent the night. When they were kids, they often stayed at one house or another. But they weren’t kids any longer. Especially in Mark’s eyes. “It might be nice if Garrison had a little company.” Mark seems a bit uneasy, but he nods to himself, understanding the importance of a friend.
“I don’t mind, really,” Annalise adds. Garrison considers it a moment as does his father. He watches his father contemplate the idea, turning once to look at his sleeping wife. Scratching his head, he looks at his son.
“Garrison? It’s up to you?”
“I… I…,” he stutters. He looks to each adult, searching for a reason this should seem so awkward, before his eyes settle on Annalise. There, he sees so many things. Her eyes are full up with compassion and love. Maybe a little hope. But mostly, he sees their friendship there. And at once he thinks it might be nice to have a friend during this time. Though for the moment, he forgets about his earlier plan, and the looming reality he must include Annalise. “Yeah. I think so.”
“Ok, it’s settled then,” Beth says, ending any debate before her husband can speak up or one of them changes their mind.
She leans over and gives her daughter a hug and a kiss. Annalise’s father does the same, though whispers a little “behave” in her ear when he hugs her.
“So, bright and early?” Mark asks, turning back toward Tom.
“Yes. The officers plan to be here around sun up.”
“Then we will too.”
“Thanks again Mark. Beth.” Tom shakes Mark’s hand once more. Gives Beth a hug, before showing them out. Returning to the living room Tom looks to Garrison and states, “Why don’t you drag out the air mattress in the basement? Annalise can have your bed, but you young man, you’re destined for the floor.”
“Ok dad.”
It takes Garrison some time, but he fishes the air mattress from the camping gear and drags it up into his bedroom. Annalise looks on while he fills it. Once the task is complete, he finds some clean sheets and drops the set atop the mattress. Annalise makes a cryptic comment about having nothing to wear, smiling from the corner of her mouth. Garrison goes a touch red in the cheeks, rubbing his palms against his pants. He wonders if she somewhat relishes his nervousness. He sifts through his drawers a time, and hands over a pair of sweats and a t-shirt. Leaves her to change, heading back down stairs to see if his father needs anything and allowing her some privacy.
“Why don’t you go ahead on up to bed.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah Gar. It’s been a lon
g night. And as much as I wish there was something else we could do, there really isn’t. You’d might as well get some rest. Early start tomorrow. It’s going to be a long day.”
“Ok dad.”
“I love you bud.”
“You too dad.”
Garrison turns from his father; trots down the hall and up the stairs to the bedroom. Annalise is already tucked into bed, and with her staring from his pillow, he feels a ping in his stomach and a stirring below. His heartbeat flutters a moment and he shies away.
Should he tell her now?
About his plan for later?
He draws a few articles of clothing from the dresser while considering these thoughts. To play it safe, he crosses into his brother’s room and strips out of his day clothes. He climbs into his pajamas; a pair of shorts and a ragged old t-shirt. He wants to look the part if his parents should check in on him. Returning to the bedroom, he sets his jeans and sweater on the chair of his desk, placing his boots beside the chair for the upcoming venture later. Annalise’s eyebrows raise at this. He knows that she knows something is up. He turns off the bedroom light and climbs onto the air mattress, though leaves the light on his nightstand on, as he tucks himself in. He can always feign sleep if his father pokes his head in. But at least the light will be some help to keep him from drifting off. Or so he hopes. For now, Annalise remains quiet. He waits for the questions to come. Waits for her to ask about what he’s up to.
“Are you scared?” She whispers.
“Scared?” He returns after a moment. His eyes play along the shadows on the ceiling, thinking the question over in his mind.
“Yeah. About Brent.”
“I guess.”
“I’d be.” A silence fills the room for some time. Then, “Where do you think he went?”
“I… well, I don’t really know.”
He lets a monster sigh escape his chest. Readies himself for more questions. But they never come. Soon, the room is filled with Annalise’s deep breathing as she drifts off to sleep.
It’s about an hour later when he hears several sets of footsteps coming up the stairs and trudging down the hall past the bedroom. Garrison is a little surprised that neither his father, nor mother pop in to see if he’s asleep. But then assumes the day has been trying enough, and both are long past their waking threshold. Within minutes the rustling from their bedroom subsides. Garrison waits another thirty minutes before pulling back the covers. He swaps out of his night clothes and laces up his boots, being as quiet as possible. When he stands up straight ready to head out, a cough from the bed catches his attention. Annalise, her head propped up under one arm, stares with her big, beautiful questioning eyes.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
SATIN CITY
SATIN CITY
What the hell was he supposed to do now?
That, was the million dollar question. So many thoughts ran rampant in his mind. None of them technically legal or within his rights to pursue, given his suspension. Most lacked one viable entity… evidence. For now, his torments rode on suspicions alone. Nothing concrete. Nothing which might be revealed to bring Dori down. He needs answers. So the real question is… does he stake out his soon to be former partner, or does he go back to the wharf and look for additional clues?
Reynold pulls himself from bed, tossing his legs over the side and scrunching his toes up in the thick carpeting. The sounds of the city find their way through the closed windows. The ongoing parade of vehicles and feet on concrete, which never seem to cease regardless of time of day or night. Somewhere down the street, a man yells at a woman, who in turn yells back. Car horns. The occasional sputter of a token tailpipe. A typical song. One which begs the question of whether anyone actually sleeps in this city.
He glances at the clock on the nightstand. The red glowing numbers read just past three in the morning. Ponders a moment his choices. It seems as good a time as any to venture out and do some snooping. He can’t say whether he’ll find anything. The more he thinks on it the more it appears a long shot. But he has to try. And it should be quiet this early in the morning. The worst-case scenario, there’ll be a small detail at the wharf. But knowing how understaffed the precinct is, he doubts very much that he’ll find much more than an overabundance of yellow tape strewn about the property.
With a renewed vigor, Reynolds pops out of bed, leaving it unmade and traipses into the living room where he pulled off his jeans the night before. They lie over the arm of the couch, a t-shirt atop them. Dressing, he pulls on the jeans, the shirt; slips on a pair of new socks and pushes his feet into a pair of sneakers. Grabs his jacket from the back of a kitchen chair. He leaves the holster to his firearm on the kitchen table, tucking the instrument into the back of his pants for now, and grabs up his badge and wallet. At the front door he pauses. Thinks a moment. Would he need it? Doubtful. Reynolds turns and tosses his badge on the table. He’s sure it’ll be of no use this morning. Besides, he’s on suspension, anyway.
The drive across the city to the wharf takes him a little over thirty minutes. He’s relieved to see his is the only vehicle present as he pulls up close to the warehouse. His tires crunch against the gravel in the lot. He puts the car in park and steps from the car. Bends back down and picks up a flashlight from the passenger’s seat. Reynold’s sneakers scratch like sandpaper on a hard surface as he straightens his legs and back with a slight pop, then starts for the warehouse.
Not wanting to alert anyone to his presence just yet, he keeps the flashlight off and tucks it in his jacket pocket. He doubts someone is watching. But one can never be too careful. He spins his head around, looking for any instance of an officer left at the scene. His fear is a little irrational. Suspension or no, he retains the standing of an officer of the law. But he knows he shouldn’t be traipsing around here. And if he stumbles upon someone, he’d made a rather large mistake having left his badge at home. It may come in handy in such a scenario. But it’s too late now. And if a patrol found him out here? Well, he’ll have to deal with the repercussions of that when and if it happens.
He takes a quick spin around the perimeter of the building, looking for what, he’s not sure. Mostly steeling himself for this little act of breaking and entering before him. Not to mention trespassing on an ongoing police investigation crime scene. At the back of the warehouse, Reynolds finds a door similar to the one in the front. He tugs at the yellow tape strewn across the entrance until it pops and falls to the ground in a flutter. Turns the handle, and pushes open the door.
The darkness inside is impenetrable. Even the remaining moonlight doesn’t seem to find its way through the windows on the upper levels.
“Shit,” he mutters aloud. He hoped there would be enough light within, so he could keep his flashlight extinguished.
Pulling the flashlight out, he closes the door behind him, and ignites its bulb. The beam pierces the absolute dark like a laser, and an arc of light billows out from where he stands. Thinking quick, he fishes in his jacket pocket and removes a white handkerchief. This, he folds over once, pulling it flat against the front of the flashlight. At once, the light dulls a few degrees, softening to a slight haze. He breathes a sigh of relief. This just might work after all.
Not wasting any time, Reynolds finds the back stairs and heads up to the office on the second floor. Once there, he closes the door to the office behind him. Not fearing any discovery, as the room hosts no windows of any sort, he pulls the flashlight free from the handkerchief.
He casts light about the office, staying just inside the door. The beam plays over the sides and far wall. The desk. Across the floor where the two girls lay hours before. There’s an outline stationed in red masking tape on the carpet. It seems so surreal all of a sudden. Even though he’s been privy to it over and again, the red tape on the floor looks more like a scene from a movie, one in which a real crime was committed. He stifles a slight smile at the thought. Cops were nothing if predictable in their routine regarding ways they handled an investiga
tion. They had also taken photographs as well, plenty. But the photograph Reynolds can’t get out of his mind, is the one of Dori hunched over the girls. And that single hand running the length of one of their thighs.
Moving toward the desk, he pulls a drawer or two open. Looks through as if an answer might lie there. Crosses to where he saw the figure of a man standing. Runs his hand long the wall, half expecting to feel something, anything which might explain the sudden appearance and disappearance of the figure. He shakes his head, laughing internally.
What the hell is he doing here?
What does he hope to find?
It’s nonsense. Him thinking he might stumble onto something that the others missed. Especially now, when the rest of the world slept and all he has to accompany him is this silly flashlight.
He should go.
Turning from the room, Reynolds wraps his flashlight again in the handkerchief and exits the office. Leaves the door open, the way he found it. As he turns the corner in the small hall, something tugs at him from within. And so, instead of descending the stairs and back out into the night, he ambles down the long walkway that hangs above the length of the warehouse. Reynolds makes his way to the front of the building.