The Fall Girl

by T. B. Markinson

  Me, I craved something else. Two things really. Booze and coke, the very things I could never touch again.

  Claire cocked her head to the side slightly. “What are you thinking about?”

  I skipped answering the question with an it doesn’t matter shrug. “Ralph suggested a bubble bath after dinner.”

  “Wine, calzone, ice cream, and bubble bath, I couldn’t ask for a better way to end the workweek. I’ll be as fresh as newly fallen snow on Christmas morning.” She stared wistfully out the window. The leaves had started to turn, but the temperatures were nowhere near winter levels.

  I couldn’t shake the tainted feeling no matter how hard I tried to push it out of my mind. In order to feel normal after my meeting with Janie and Cora and not confessing to Claire, I’d need to bathe in bleach. The core idea of the investigation was decent, honest even—stopping an online predator. The reasons behind how MDD got embroiled in the investigation were the unsettling aspects, to say the least. Did FBI agents working with drug dealers or mob guys feel this shitty?

  Wanting to focus on something else, I said, “You must miss your days in advertising. I can almost picture the advert. You naked in the tub, one leg out, offering a hint of the goods, spooning in ice cream, snow tapping the windowpane, while Bing croons ‘White Christmas.’ How about it? Care to make a home video?” I playfully hoisted one brow.

  She whacked my arm, but the look in her eyes was clear. “You really had a shitty day.”

  I pried the ice cream container from her fingers, set it on the kitchen counter, and pulled her into my arms. “Not anymore.”

  Ian dashed through the front door with Darrell in tow. “Look what I got!” He held a flute over his head.

  Darrell cleared his throat and tossed two hands in the air. “It’s the latest.”

  “And the greatest,” Ian sang as he twirled around on tippy toes. “Thanks, Dad.” Putting the wind instrument to his mouth, he attempted to play a few notes. I wasn’t sure how to define the sounds coming out, and I visualized dogs ten miles away smothering their ears with paws.

  Claire met my eyes, and I swear she communicated, “So much for the pizza and wings to lure Ian back to sports and away from the dark art of culture.”

  Darrell whispered, “There has to be an instrument he can actually play. He really wants to be in the school band.”

  “Maybe he should stick with one instrument to up his chances,” I offered with a supportive smile.

  Claire grunted but refrained from arguing with me in front of Darrell.

  So far, Ian had failed miserably when it came to joining any groups at school. He was our version of Sue Heck from The Middle. Claire and I debated about how much we should try to strong-arm the school to ease up on certain requirements, such as having musical talent to participate in band. Or at least be able to make a sound that wouldn’t damage anyone’s eardrums. I was for offering a bribe. Money talked. Claire wanted him to find his own way. Darrell, I think, had given up on the sports front but wasn’t entirely sold on the band idea. He’d probably bullied a few band members back in his football days.

  Ian, out of hearing range, continued his efforts with zeal.

  Claire smiled proudly. “Does it matter? Look at him.”

  Darrell conceded with an easing of his shoulders, and the corners of his mouth tugged upward.

  I studied Ian, giddy with his flute, and Mia in her chair waving her arms enthusiastically. They both were perfect.

  My mind flittered to Brianna again and to the other children who were victims of Mean Heather. Some members in society had a way of deeming certain individuals misfits, simply to elevate their own self-worth. It was cruel and destructive and I wanted to break the case wide open, even if that meant working with my nemesis.

  Darrell cleared his throat. “Uh, Claire mentioned…” He shifted on his feet, and I nodded for him to continue. “I put some articles together I thought you may be interested in.” He handed me a binder. “Look it over, and then let’s talk.”

  I flipped it open and saw copies of news stories. “Sure thing.”

  He nodded. After giving Ian and Mia a kiss on their heads, he waved and left.

  Chapter Eleven

  Saturday morning, Claire had to pop into the office for a few hours. She wasn’t the type who liked to work from home, unable to concentrate on the task at hand instead of mom duties. Darrell and Ian were en route to Colorado Springs so Ian could see a real powwow, and I had Mia all to myself.

  I thought it would be good for the two of us to get some fresh air, and the plan was to head to the lake. I had showered last night and again first thing this morning, but I still felt contaminated by the previous day’s events. I couldn’t put my finger on why I wasn’t able to push the junk into the back of my mind, like I had all those years after waking up in the motel. I would have thought all my years of hiding the truth would have prepared me better.

  I strapped Mia into the backpack carrier, which had a sunshade. At the last minute, I tossed the notebook from Janie and the binder from Darrell into my bag.

  During my years living in New York City, I had missed the scent of pine trees. When Claire suggested we purchase our home outside of the Fort Collins city limits, I initially balked for two reasons.

  The first had been completely selfish. When Claire wanted something, she really wanted it and would go to great lengths to persuade me, including naked picnics in the great outdoors to show me what we could have if we bought the house.

  As I followed the dirt footpath to the lake, I chuckled over this concept. Ian spent a lot of time with his father, but now that we had Mia, slipping out for naked picnics or skinny-dipping in the lake wasn’t easy. Truth be told, we’d only done it a couple of times before bringing Mia home.

  The second reason was Ian. Most of the people who could be considered our neighbors, even if they were half a mile away, were older, either childless or their children had already flown the coop. I worried Ian wouldn’t have enough interaction with kids his own age. Both Claire and Darrell laughed off this concern. Ian had several buddies at school he palled around with a few days a week.

  However, Ian had so many interests that went beyond his friends at school. I’d been giving Darrell a hard time about not having a job, but thank the stars he didn’t. He was constantly ferrying Ian from one activity to another, like today’s powwow. After living with Ian for a few weeks, I realized he was his own person. Solitude for Ian wasn’t a concern. The boy actually craved at least an hour of alone time each day.

  We were still determining what Mia would need. She was too young for school, and both of our parents were retired and willing to babysit. In a few years, we would have to reassess her needs and our living situation. For now, though, she didn’t complain one bit about being a short drive away from city life.

  I found a comfortable log to sit on near the water’s edge and freed Mia from the contraption. She cooed in my arms, her eyes wide as she stared at the water. Some chipmunks scurried around in the fallen leaves, pine needles, and brush near my feet, catching Mia’s attention for a few moments. Soon enough, she was asleep, and I placed her back in the chair.

  After debating whether I should read the Janie notebook in its entirety, I finally gave in to morbid curiosity. Back in college, when I had studied journalism, I never once considered I’d be involved in chasing an online serial killer, if Mean Heather could be categorized as one. In the early nineties, the Net was almost an unknown to me. Oddly, today as a partner in an online media company, it was becoming clear it still was on some levels, not just to me but to millions. Finding my way around, building a website, uploading cute cat photos—that stuff I got.

  The impact eluded me. Even though most societies were becoming more reliant on cyber technology, our understanding of its nature was minimal at best. When Gutenberg had developed the printing press centuries ago, it revolutionized the world, and the ramifications of that technology s
till reverberate today.

  What would the ramifications of the internet be five hundred years from now? How would it evolve? What lines will be crossed? Humans physically connected, in essence becoming computers? The breakdown of social norms?

  I laughed. No need to get all sci-fi. I had a decision to make. Did I want to join forces with a woman I once cared for but was ultimately betrayed by? Did the Alphabet Killer really exist? How would the investigation affect my family? And how could I protect Cora from having her reputation dragged through the mud? She had rushed to my rescue when I needed her. It was time to show her how much that meant to me.

  I started reading page one of Alicia’s story.

  ***

  “There you are.” Claire, in jeans and a lightweight cream sweater, approached all smiles. Mia, hearing her voice, stirred. “Come here, sweetheart.”

  I made room on the log for mother and child, setting Darrell’s notebook next to Janie’s on the ground. “How was work?”

  “Spreadsheets, spreadsheets, spreadsheets. Why does Corporate America love spreadsheets?”

  I laughed. “Not an exciting way to spend a Saturday morning?”

  She angled her face toward the sun, sucked in a mouthful of air, and let it escape slowly through her soft, full lips. “I have a feeling yours was more peaceful.”

  I avoided glancing at the horrors contained in the notebook at my feet. “Hard to beat a morning by the lake with Mia.”

  “Where’s your fishing pole? Dad left his in our garage.” She nudged me with her arm.

  I snapped my fingers. “I knew I forgot something.”

  Her dad had tried to teach me the finer points of fishing but quickly abandoned his efforts. I suspected he was relieved by my lack of interest. In all likelihood, it was his wife’s idea to make a fisherwoman out of me. He loved to visit under the guise that he was fishing, when in reality he was seeking time away from Claire’s mom, who’d henpecked him with a honey-do list a mile long since he’d retired.

  “Don’t worry, by the time I’m done with you, I’ll have knocked all love for New York City out of your system.” She blew a zerbert on Mia’s belly. “Right, Miss Mia?” The baby squirmed and squealed.

  “Sounds promising.” I kicked some leaves onto the notebooks.

  This didn’t escape her attention. “Were you working?” Claire motioned to the notebooks.

  “Some. I jotted notes for a story I’m working on.” I rationalized this wasn’t an outright lie, given that if Janie was right, odds were many articles, if not a book, would be the result. Plus, Claire understood I couldn’t always talk about my work.

  “Going old school. I like it.”

  “Seemed easier than dragging a laptop with me.” I motioned to all of the gear needed for Mia. “How did women in the eighteen hundreds do it?”

  “I don’t even want to picture it. Diapers that weren’t changed all that much, and speaking of—” Claire sniffed.

  I leaped into action. “I got it. There’s coffee in the thermos and iced tea in the bottle. Choose your poison.”

  “You know what we need? Two chairs. I could sit here all day.”

  I glanced up from the blanket I kneeled on, doing my best to clean Mia while she flopped about. To her, diaper changes seemed like a game, and the goal was to make Mommy look foolish. “I’d be happy to run back and grab a couple. Are you hungry? Should I whip up a couple of sandwiches?”

  “Would you?”

  “Like you have to ask.”

  Claire’s gaze conveyed she adored me on all levels.

  Mia stayed on the blanket, wiggling on her back and playing catch her toes. I set off without a worry in the world.

  It wasn’t until I stood in the kitchen, smearing spicy brown mustard onto a slice of seeded bread, that I realized I had left both notebooks next to the log. Claire and my agent had been bugging me about the topic of my next contracted book, and I’d been cagey. Surely, straitlaced Claire wouldn’t peek at the notebook. Or would she?

  My skin went cold, and my stomach lurched to the floor.

  If she did read it, what could I say? I’d been reading a few books on cyberbullying, trolls, and hackers, but would she believe I compiled the research on my own? Moreover, my handwriting was nothing like Janie’s. Not that Claire would recognize Janie’s print, but I didn’t want to lie—more than I already had to. Protecting a source was an ingrained trait for journalists. Claire would understand, a major plus. But I didn’t want to confess the notebook was from a source. The best way to protect a source was to never let on one existed. Was that my reasoning? Or was it the guilt about Janie being the source?

  There was also the issue that Claire spooked easily and if I green-lit this project, there’d be a chance of unwanted attention, to put it mildly. To this day, Claire watched thrillers through the cracks of her fingers. How would she feel if she knew MDD was tracking down a serial killer?

  Pushing all the swirling scenarios out of my mind, I finished making lunch in a daze.

  When I returned to the water’s edge, the notebook sat in the same spot where I’d left it, with a corner of Darrell’s slightly askew on top. Claire had Mia on her hip, trying to get the baby to notice a hawk circling in the sky, but Mia insisted on reaching for Claire’s fingers, not paying any attention to the predator swooping overhead.

  “I don’t think Mia will be a bird enthusiast.” Claire tried one more time to point out the hawk with no luck.

  “Maybe that’ll be Ian’s flavor of the day tomorrow.”

  “Quite possibly. I wonder if Darrell is enjoying the powwow.”

  The image of Darrell in his short sleeve Eddie Bauer plaid shirt and pressed khakis in the midst of Native Americans in powwow regalia made me smile. “Who knows? Maybe he’ll find a place where he belongs.”

  “That’ll be the day.”

  “Are you referring to Darrell or Ian?”

  Her smile spread across her face. “Both.” Claire sat in one of the chairs I’d set up, kicking her feet up onto the log. “When I was raising Ian on my own, I didn’t have many chances to sit by a lake for a relaxing afternoon.” She cuddled Mia. “Not that I would change anything. Although, it was stressful not telling anyone that Darrell was Ian’s father. I didn’t want people at work to know I slept with the boss, yet letting the cat out of the bag makes things easier.”

  I was curious as to why she brought up her big secret, since it didn’t quite flow with the conversation. “I can only imagine.” I took a seat next to her, opened the lid to the Tupperware containing my sandwich, and took a bite.

  “How’d you manage to keep so many secrets for so long?” she asked with a look of grave intensity on her face.

  Years of keeping secrets helped me control my nerves, and I managed to not choke on the food in my mouth. I swallowed and chased it with a slurp of iced tea. “I don’t know, really. It became the new norm, so to speak. The trick is to drink your own Kool-Aid to seem more convincing.” I rolled my head on the back of the chair and watched how she processed the information.

  She nodded thoughtfully. “I can see that. I did the same with Ian. I’ve wondered if that’s why he’s all over the place. My fear about keeping his dad’s name quiet seeped into the womb, making him feel like he didn’t have a place.”

  I squeezed her thigh, understanding her reasoning, even if she was reaching some to explain Ian’s lack of focus. The bane of parenting: always thinking you’re to blame for how your kids turn out. “I doubt that. Look at my folks. Sweetest people in the world and I’m… not.”

  Her hand enveloped mine. “You aren’t so bad—mostly.” She winked at me.

  “Says the woman who turned her child into an introvert.” I put my arms up for the whack I knew was coming, which arrived with a lot less force than I’d expected. “Speaking of, I keep meaning to read Cain’s book, Quiet.”

  “Me, too,” she said in all seriousness.

  I glanced
at the sky, searching the clouds for a way to phrase my question. Not finding the right words, I dove in anyway. “Is that why you allow Ian to pursue so many activities? If it wasn’t for Darrell, I’m not sure how we’d cope with all of them.”

  “Partly.” She faced me. “Lately, though, I think it’s been good for Darrell and Ian to spend so much time together. Darrell isn’t good at relaxing, and it worries me. At Mile High, he worked ten to twelve hour days. They’ve never had this opportunity before. I wish I could spend more time with Ian and Mia.” She sighed. “Do you think it’s wrong letting Ian try so many new things?”

  “I hadn’t thought of it that way. This being an excellent opportunity for Darrell and Ian to make up for lost time.” I put my hand on her thigh. “No, I don’t think it’s wrong. Besides, what’s wrong with showing an interest in things? Look at Ben Franklin, Thomas Jefferson, and Leonardo Da Vinci. You’re a great mom. And don’t ever tell him I said this, but Darrell is a fantastic father. Ian is blessed.”

  “Thank you. It’s good to hear you say that.” She squeezed my hand on her leg, closing her eyes. “I love it out here. No traffic sounds. Just the animals and the breeze through the trees.”

  While I finished my roast beef with Havarti cheese sandwich, Claire kept her eyes closed, lost in her own thoughts, holding Mia close to her chest.

  Moments passed before she whispered, “Here, take our daughter so I can eat my lunch.”

  Mia had fallen asleep again. “Do you think she has narcolepsy?” I asked, half in jest.

  “Enjoy it now. Soon, we’ll never get any peace and quiet. I imagine the odds of having two well-behaved children are next to none.” Claire bit into her sandwich, smearing mustard on her chin. A bit of lettuce fell onto her jeans. Scooping it up, she tossed it to a chipmunk foraging around a log behind us, but it didn’t show much interest in the food. She laughed. “Picky little thing.”

  A stiff breeze rustled up the leaves around our feet. The surface of the placid lake rippled some. “Hard to believe autumn is upon us.”