Jumping Rise

by S. W. Hubbard

  Kendall nodded. “We all knew Trout Run—it’s like a throwback in time. Her parents and I figured there was no way Caitlin could score drugs there. When I went to scope out the motel, it was even nicer than I remembered it. Mr. and Mrs. Patel lived right on-site with their kids. I knew they wouldn’t tolerate any sketchy behavior.”

  Yet when Caitlin bummed that ride from Augie Enright, she must’ve had a plan to meet up with someone. To find drugs somewhere. And Frank knew her quest, as a tourist, might be challenging, but certainly not impossible. Trout Run wasn’t the quaint Mayberry that Kendall and Caitlin’s parents wanted to believe it was. The drugs were there if you knew where to look.

  As Blaine could testify.

  But how would Caitlin know where to look in a small town? It wasn’t like there was a bad neighborhood in Trout Run where drugs could be purchased on the street.

  You had to know someone.

  “Caitlin had been home from her latest rehab for three weeks,” Kendall continued. “She had detoxed and promised she would stay clean, but she’d broken her promises so many times before that no one believed her. I doubt she believed herself. The sad thing was, Caitlin actually felt guilty for what she was doing to Rachel. She loved her sister. She wanted Rachel to be able to go on the tour. So she agreed to the isolation her parents and I conceived.”

  “The Luptons didn’t consider taking Caitlin with them on the trip?”

  “To Hungary, Slovakia, Romania?” Kendall’s voice rose as he spoke the name of each exotic country. “What if she tried to buy drugs there and got arrested? They’d never get her out of the country.”

  Frank nodded. Taking a heroin addict to Bratislava was probably not a good idea.

  Kendall fell silent, staring at the floor as he contemplated the terrible outcome of his plan. Frank could sympathize, but there were still missing pieces here. Kendall wasn’t coming completely clean. “Leaving Caitlin at the Mountain Vista has a certain logic. But why did you register under a false name?”

  The man stretched his long legs and let his chin drop onto his chest. Finally, he spoke. “These people that Caitlin bought her drugs from...they continued to contact her, pressure her. They said she owed them money. They came to the Luptons’ house. They tried to blackmail Jack by saying they‘d expose Caitlin as a dealer not just a user, but he had no money to give them. I figured Jack and Denise and Rachel were safer out of the country. And I needed a way to protect Caitlin’s and my anonymity. I didn’t want those goons showing up here at my house.”

  “Why didn’t the Luptons report these threats to the police?”

  “Ha!” Kendall thumped the arm of his chair. “Caitlin was like a one-woman crime wave in their little suburban town. Jack had spent thousands on lawyers to keep his daughter out of jail. The cops had come and revived Caitlin with Narcan several times. They had no sympathy with the Luptons’ problems, and I can’t really blame them.”

  Frank could see the hopeless quagmire the Luptons had fallen into. People always preach tough love. Kick her out! Change the locks on your doors! But it wasn’t so easy to turn your back on your own child even when he or she had betrayed your trust over and over again.

  Look at how Blaine’s family was pulling together to help him despite the bleak prospects for a positive outcome.

  And help—from doctors and therapists and the authorities—was woefully hard to find.

  “These thugs, these dealers—do you or the Luptons know their names?” Frank asked.

  Kendall shook his head. “Caitlin refused to name them. She said she was protecting her family—what they didn’t know couldn’t hurt them. She even crushed her phone to prevent her parents’ seeing her call history.”

  Maybe she was protecting her family. It seemed more likely to Frank that she was guarding her supply line. If her parents had hard evidence of the dealer’s identity, they could’ve supplied that to the police and commanded their attention despite Caitlin’s bad reputation.

  “We knew this plan with Caitlin had risks.” Kendall raked his hands over his short-cropped hair. “Knew that Caitlin could borrow a phone from another guest and use it to get in touch with her dealer friends even though she promised she wouldn’t. She had no money to pay them, but where there’s a will....” Kendall shuddered. “But Jack and Denise were desperate. They owed this trip to Rachel. And besides, they deserved that happiness...to see their little girl perform on famous concert hall stages.” Kendall put his elbows on his knees and let his head droop down. “I feel like I pushed them to take this way out. I’m responsible for what happened.”

  “No, whoever suffocated Caitlin is responsible,” Frank said. He didn’t add, and Caitlin herself is responsible for making some spectacularly bad choices.

  “So what was the long-term plan?” Frank continued. “You only paid for two months at the Mountain Vista. Did the Luptons plan to take Caitlin back after they returned from Europe?”

  “Long term plan?” Kendall barked a bitter laugh. “There are no long term plans when you’re dealing with an addict. That’s why the AA slogan is ‘one day at a time’. We figured we’d reevaluate when Jack and Denise and Rachel returned home.”

  “So you dropped Caitlin off at the Mountain Vista on July 1. Did you go back and check on her at any time?”

  Frank watched Kendall closely. Throughout their talk, Kendall had been either stretched out or slouched over—his long body slack with despair. Now he sat up straight and looked Frank straight in the eye. “No. I didn’t want to risk anyone following me there.”

  He’s lying. But why?

  “You didn’t want to make sure she was doing all right, see if she needed anything?” Frank pressed on. “I always manage to forget something when I’m traveling, no matter how carefully I pack.”

  “I knew she had everything she needed,” Kendall insisted. “If there was something she wanted...well, she lost the privilege of making demands long ago.”

  Frank reassessed his strategy. Up to this point, he’d pegged Kendall as a straight-shooter, a man distraught by the death of a family friend. But the lie Frank suspected changed his perspective. He knew Caitlin had finagled a ride to the Finley Notch Trailhead from Augie Enright. He wanted to ask Kendall if that location had any significance to him. But now he decided to hold back this crucial bit of information.

  “It seems Caitlin lived at the Mountain Vista peacefully for nearly three weeks...drawing, taking short hikes, keeping to herself,” Frank said. “Then after July 17, the Patels didn’t see her anymore. She found a way to leave the motel, and on July 21 she turned up dead in Mallard Lake. Do you have any idea how or why she did that?”

  Kendall raised his hands to the ceiling. “She must’ve been overwhelmed by a drug craving. Borrowed a phone from someone to make a call to her dealer. Arranged to meet him, and....”

  That could be true, but Kendall’s earlier lie made Frank unwilling to accept the easy answer.

  The two men sat in silence for a moment. Then Frank asked one last question. “Where were you on the night of July 20?”

  Kendall stiffened. “Wha—? Surely, you don’t—”

  “Routine question sir. Everyone who knew her well must be eliminated as a suspect.”

  “I was here,” Kendall said, summoning all his dignity. “But I did go out to pick up an order of Chinese food at nine. I have the receipt and the owner knows me well.”

  Frank nodded and rose. “Thanks for your time, Mr. Kendall. The state police will want to talk to you as well—they’ll gather all the details.”

  Kendall ushered him to the door, where Frank noticed a woman’s flowered umbrella in a stand next to the front door. Was Kendall still married or not? “Where’s your wife, Mr. Kendall?”

  “We’re separated.” Kendall looked at his shoes. “But she’ll be devastated when she hears this news.”

  Frank cocked his head. “And what line of work are you in?”

  “Computer security. I work from home.”

&nbs
p; Frank lifted his hand in farewell, then sat in his truck for a moment before he started the drive back to Trout Run. Thousands of miles from here, the Luptons were taking in the views of the Carpathians. He hoped they were enjoying the final days of their trek in Romania. Plenty of pain awaited them on their return.

  Chapter 23

  Once Frank got on the Northway, he put on the cruise control and tuned out the lush green mountain scenery slipping past his vehicle. Thoughts of Regis Kendall and the Luptons’ struggle with their daughters filled his mind.

  He tried to imagine himself as frustrated and desperate as the Luptons. His own daughter, Caroline, had given Frank and his first wife, Estelle, a run for their money in her teenage years, specializing in defying all restrictions they placed on her. She was an only child, thus the sole focus of their dreams and their fears.

  But unlike Caitlin, Caroline hadn’t wanted to escape the world. She’d wanted to embrace it more fully. She wanted to have new experiences not offered by their tame, midwestern suburban neighborhood. So she’d sneaked out of the house at night, lied to Frank and her mother. Oh, the exploits! Hitchhiking to a rock concert at the University of Kansas. Sneaking into blues clubs on Rochester Street in Kansas City. Riding shotgun with a drag-racing knucklehead. Any of her adventures could have gotten Caroline raped, robbed, kidnapped, paralyzed, killed. Many outings had involved drinking and weed, but those mind altering substances hadn’t been the main event, just necessary grease for the wheels of a good time.

  Caroline had sensed the world was a bigger place than her parents had been willing to admit. Once she got to college and met people from different backgrounds and encountered new ideas, her recklessness diminished. And without her shocked parents as an audience, Caroline lost interest in rebellion. Now, fifteen years later, married and with kids of her own, her escape from their short leash seemed admirable to Frank.

  Because she’d survived.

  What would he have done with a self-destructive child, one who shunned all the advantages of upper-middle class life and chose to numb herself to some inner pain that couldn’t be explained? And how would he have balanced the needs of two children, one who took up all the oxygen in the room while the other struggled to breathe?

  Frank didn’t blame the Luptons for their choice to go to Europe with Rachel. And he could see that taking Caitlin with them or leaving her alone at their home were equally risky options. But the decision to maroon her at the Mountain Vista still seemed...weird.

  And the fact that Kendall had come up with the scheme as a way to help his friends seemed a little sketchy. Why was he so involved? And why had he registered at the motel under a fake name?

  Kendall had to have realized that there was a distinct possibility Caitlin would get her hands on drugs and OD at the Mountain Vista. Why had he made it so hard to find Caitlin’s next-of-kin? The man’s explanations for his actions seemed weak to Frank. Drug dealers didn’t usually pursue the non-using friends and families of their customers. Even though their business was illegal, they were still businessmen at heart. Find new customers. Expand your market share. Improve profitability. Killing friends and family of customers didn’t improve the bottom line.

  Kendall seemed to have a solid alibi that could be verified. If he was in Colonie at nine, it would take him nearly three hours to reach the dock in Verona. Then he’d need to navigate a motorboat through unfamiliar waters to reach The Balsams. Lie in wait to kill Caitlin and then return, all without being spotted. Seemed like a lot of effort and risk.

  And then there was the lie. Frank was certain that Kendall had checked up on Caitlin. Why lie about that when it seemed like a reasonable thing to do? Had he cruised up and down in front of the motel hoping to catch a glimpse of her? But that would be out of character given the lengths he’d taken to hide his identity.

  He could have paid someone else to take a room at the motel and report back. Except that Sanjiv said the motel was fully booked for the summer. He could have bribed someone who worked at the motel for a report, except the Patels ran the place themselves.

  Wait. Frank’s hands tightened on the steering wheel. Mina had told Frank they were paying a woman from town to help with the cleaning. Could Kendall have spotted her when he reserved the room or when he dropped Caitlin off? Had the Patels mentioned the cleaner to the state police? Had Meyerson’s team followed up?

  Frank repressed the urge to call Sanjiv as he drove. It would be better to stop by and visit his friend tomorrow. The Patels were agitated enough over Caitlin’s murder.

  When Frank arrived back in Trout Run at five, he spent nearly an hour writing a long email to Lew Meyerson detailing his conversation with Regis Kendall and all his suspicions as well as the man’s alibi, which would have to be verified. Once Frank pressed send, he quickly left the office and turned his cell phone to vibrate. He found it easier to ignore Meyerson’s infuriated calls when his phone wasn’t actually ringing.

  Time to go home and unwind.

  He found Penny sitting on the screen porch drinking from a glass filled with clear liquid, ice, and a lime wedge. When she set it on the end table, Frank picked it up and took a big swallow.

  He coughed as a jolt of gin went down his throat. “I thought that was sparkling water. It’s not like you to hit the sauce alone.”

  “I had a weird day.” She handed him an unsealed, unaddressed envelope without comment.

  The upper left corner bore a red and gold logo and the words “Hale Family Charitable Trust.” Frank peeked inside: a fifty thousand dollar check made payable to the Trout Run Memorial Library. “Why so glum?” Frank asked his wife. “Aren’t you glad our terrible weekend had some positive outcome?”

  “Yeah. Great.” Penny reached for the G&T and drained the glass.

  Frank’s phone began to vibrate in his pocket. “Aren’t you going to answer that?” Penny asked.

  “It’s Meyerson. He can wait.” Frank sat in the Adirondack chair next to Penny’s.

  “Did Desmond come to the library and bring this check to you?”

  Penny nodded and kept staring through the screens to the backyard, where the leaves on the birch trees trembled in the slight breeze.

  “How come it’s just for fifty grand instead of the hundred he promised you? Did he cut it in half because of me?”

  Penny clanked the empty glass down on the wide arm of her chair and steepled her fingers. “Desmond came with Keith. He said this is just the first installment. Something about needing to get approval for larger donations from the board of his foundation. Apparently he can make smaller donations unilaterally.” Penny twisted to look at her husband. “I’m not sure I want to take more money from him, Frank. I’m not sure I even want this, but I was so surprised to see them, I didn’t know how to react. It’s hard to throw fifty grand back at someone when you don’t have a coherent reason.” Penny shivered. “Just an icky feeling.”

  Chapter 24

  Frank grabbed his wife’s hand. “What did Desmond say to you today?”

  Penny raised Frank’s hand to her lips. “Relax, Prince Valiant. Desmond is never flirtatious. He’s just....”

  “What?” Frank tried to control the stern edge in his voice. Sometimes what he intended as protective, Penny saw as controlling.

  “He’s—” she searched for the right word. “Dismissive. Today he acted like that poor girl’s murder was simply a huge inconvenience. As if the state police wanting to figure out what happened to her was silly, bureaucratic nit-picking.”

  Frank came down from his guard-dog stance. “Interesting. What exactly did he say?”

  “Desmond and Keith walked into the library right after lunch. I had no idea they were coming,” Penny said. “Desmond started chatting about my display of natural history books as if nothing strange had ever happened last weekend. Keith barely said hello and headed straight for the computers.”

  “Ha! I knew those boys are probably going through internet withdrawal. I’m surprised Justin didn
’t come, too,” Frank said. “But I interrupted you. Who brought up the investigation?”

  “I did.” Penny stretched out her long, tanned legs. “The meaningless chatter about my book display felt so fake. I couldn’t keep up the pretense anymore, and I blurted out, ‘What’s going on at The Balsams? Are the police still there?’ And you know what Desmond said to me?” Penny’s voice rose in agitation. “He said, “Yes, what a bore.’ A bore. Can you believe that?”

  Penny grew more animated as she told Frank her story. “So I said something sarcastic like, well, I’m sure her family and friends aren’t bored by her murder. And Desmond insisted that she couldn’t possibly have been murdered and that once a real forensic scientist looked at the autopsy results, they’d realize her death was due to some undiagnosed medical condition.”

  “Yeah, right. I’m trying to think what obscure disease causes bruising across the nose and mouth,” Frank muttered. “And Doc Hibbert is as real as they come.”

  “I didn’t want to let on that I knew all those details,” Penny said. “I tried to act like I was busy in order to get rid of them both, but of course with this lovely weather, the library was as deserted as Chernobyl. Desmond started wandering around, looking at my new releases table, studying my bulletin boards. Meanwhile, Keith was hunched over the computer, tapping away. I guess he was checking his email and social media. He certainly wasn’t doing research and taking notes.”

  Yogi strolled over and jumped into Penny’s lap, his bushy tail nearly sending her drink to the floor. She grabbed the glass and kept talking. “So I kept busy answering emails, typing like a demon and totally ignoring them both. And after about fifteen minutes of that, Keith made this loud tsk of dismay and pushed away from the computer. He walked right out of the library without saying a word to me or his father.”