Never Forget

by Harper Shaw

Rebecca gently closed the door shut behind him and dialed Dennis’s number. She prayed he’d be back from his modeling gig. Instead, she got the machine. Shit. She heard the beep and started to leave a message. She hesitated. “Dennis. It’s me. Jennifer is… Jennifer… there was a fire… and…”

  “Rebecca! Rebecca!” Dennis picked up, harried and out of breath. “It’s me! I’m here!”

  “Dennis?”

  “I just got back in and heard you leaving the message,” he panted.

  “Jennifer is—”

  “I drove by her place on my way home and saw the fire trucks and everything. Are you okay?”

  “Yes, but…” Rebecca found herself fighting back tears. Her throat constricted, making it hard to speak clearly. “Jennifer was there. In the fire.”

  “Oh my God…” Dennis’s voice sounded far away suddenly.

  There was a long pause. Rebecca’s stomach constricted in fear, thinking something was happening to him or he was abandoning her or… “Dennis?” she insisted.

  “I’m here. I’m here,” he assured her. Her stomach loosened a little. She could hear him rustling about on the other end of the line. “Listen, where are you? I’m coming to get you.”

  “No, no, you can’t.” Rebecca glanced out Faruq’s office window. She could just make him out through the spaces between the slats of venetian blinds. “I’m at the precinct. Faruq’s holding me here.”

  “Faruq? Oh great.”

  Rebecca took as deep a breath as her tense body allowed, and then chanced saying, “What if we told him?”

  “Are you out of your mind?” Dennis retorted in a rush.

  “This is getting bigger than us—”

  “No!”

  “Maybe he could—”

  “No!” Dennis shouted so loudly Rebecca was afraid Faruq would hear him out in the hall. She stopped talking, giving Dennis a moment to calm down. “You need to stay quiet. You hear me?” his voice hissed into her ear. “Faruq cannot be trusted.”

  Rebecca wondered who really could be trusted anymore. Why was Dennis reacting so violently to her suggestion? “You don’t speak to Faruq,” he huffed, “you don’t speak to anybody. You wait for your lawyer. Okay? I’m going to call him and tell him where you are.”

  Rebecca put her head in her free hand. Sure, let Dennis call Dick Darrow. Let them all handle it. Take it out of her hands. What a tempting thought.

  “Tell me you understand,” Dennis commanded.

  “I hear you, Dennis,” Rebecca assured him. “It’s just not like you.”

  “What? What do you mean?”

  “This level of paranoia.”

  “I’m not being paranoid.” His defensiveness was immediate. He tried to sound nonchalant, but Rebecca could hear a desperation in his tone. “I’m looking out for you. I think you’ve had a shock—a series of shocks, really—and you’re not thinking clearly. You’re projecting.”

  She didn’t think so. Once again, she found herself in the position of having to be selective about what she gave away. “Okay.”

  “Good. Good. Stay put. You’re gonna be okay.” Dennis lingered another moment on the line. Rebecca offered him nothing. “Bye,” he said.

  He lingered a moment more. She stayed silent. Then the line went dead. She hung up the phone.

  Almost immediately, Faruq was in the room. “C’mon,” he said, gesturing with his head down the hall.

  “Can’t I just stay here?” Rebecca pleaded.

  “No creature comforts for you, I’m afraid.”

  With a sigh, Rebecca rose and allowed herself to be half-led, half-dragged to the now-familiar holding cell. The bars slid closed and Rebecca laid herself down on the hard metal bench.

  Dennis was worried about something more than Rebecca’s present situation. He seemed unfazed by the news of Jennifer’s death. Did he even have a modeling gig this morning, or was he was hiding something more? There was also the fact she’d gone to Jennifer’s rental property on Dennis’s suggestion. Perhaps that explained his behavior now? Maybe he feared Rebecca would drop that little tidbit to Faruq and Dennis would end up a suspect himself.

  If he was innocent, though, why would he be so worried?

  I want a drink, she thought. It made her laugh out loud, coming out as one sharp bark. She really was at a new bottom. She decided it was actually a good thing to be in the holding cell, where she was safe from doing damage to herself.

  She once again remembered Riya’s advice from a few nights before. If Rebecca wanted to come clean, there were few prospects from which she could choose. She couldn’t rely on her parents or Darrow. Bruce and Dennis were in on the secret with her.

  And I definitely can’t trust myself anymore, she thought.

  She’d tried to solve this mystery the way it seemed best to her. It was time for a whole new approach. Time to trust the last person her instincts told her it was a good idea to trust.

  Faruq.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  It was almost midnight when an officer finally came to get Rebecca. “Chief wants to see you.” The bars slid open and Rebecca practically bounced up the hall to Faruq’s office.

  She dreaded what was to come. Still, having made the decision to entrust Faruq with the secret of Monica’s death after all this time, she felt buoyed. She had spent the past several hours organizing her thoughts and mentally rehearsing how to tell him. At times during this process, she’d drifted in and out of sleep, and at one point, half-dreamed Monica was encouraging her, letting Rebecca know this decision was the right one.

  The officer held Faruq’s office door open, let Rebecca in, and then closed it behind her. Faruq stared outside, his fist on the high windowsill and his chin atop his fist. He didn’t move for a long moment.

  Rebecca finally spoke up. “I want to come clean about something.”

  Faruq looked at her, his eyes wide in surprise. He leaned back against the wall. “That’s good, Rebecca.”

  She nodded and then sat down across from the desk. He stayed where he was. “When we were all in high school…” she began.

  “What?” Faruq’s face scrunched up.

  “Just… please,” Rebecca asked. “It’s hard enough to do this without you interrupting. Okay?”

  “You’re telling me this all goes back to high school?”

  “Yes, that’s when it happened.” Rebecca was confused about just what was confusing Faruq.

  His confusion gave way to frustration. “When what happened?”

  “What I’m trying to tell you about! About the night Monica died.” Saying the words out loud made Rebecca’s body break out in a sweat.

  “Monica?” Faruq raged. “What the hell do you want to tell me about Monica for?”

  “That’s what this all has to do with!”

  “You killed Jennifer because of Monica?” he demanded.

  “I—wait—no—” Rebecca lost track of what the hell was going on. She was so focused on her decision to come clean, she was having a hard time keeping track of what Faruq was saying.

  “Cut the bullshit, Rebecca!” Faruq yelled. He stepped away from the wall, put his hands on the desk and leaned into her face. “Why don’t we start with this. Why exactly did you come back here.”

  “You know why!” Rebecca’s voice became shrill. She had imagined every response from Faruq except this one. “The lawsuit!”

  “Then why is it you haven’t behaved at all like someone trying to get out of a suit?”

  “Listen, Faruq, there’s someone—the Shroud—”

  Faruq shook his head in disbelief.

  Rebecca backtracked. Everything was coming out all wrong. “See, all of this can be traced back to what I was trying to tell you,” she asserted again.

  Faruq cut her off once more, this time with a whopper of an accusation. “You’re a murder suspect, Rebecca.”

  Rebecca’s mind struggled to put the pieces together. A moment ago, her choice seemed clear. Come clean to Faruq. Then, with his help,
get to the bottom of what was going on. Now he was screaming at her, accusing her of murder. She knew he wasn’t talking about Monica. So, he must mean…

  “Jennifer?” she asked. “You’re accusing me…”

  “We’re still waiting for dental records to come back, but all signs indicate it was her body in the house. So why did you do it? Why kill her?”

  “I—I didn’t…”

  Faruq grabbed a manilla folder and thwacked it on the desk before Rebecca. Several papers slid partway out of it. Among them, Rebecca glimpsed a gruesome picture of a charred corpse on a metal slab. “Coroner’s initial report came in just a few minutes ago. Jennifer was strangled to death. Then the killer set the house on fire, obviously in an attempt to burn her body beyond recognition and make it look like some sort of accident.”

  Oh no, Rebecca realized, he really thinks it’s me. She could see disappointment mixing with the rage and horror in Faruq’s eyes. It was all too much to take, but he kept going.

  “Then there’s this,” he said and opened the folder. He yanked another report from it, nearly tearing the paper in his vehemence. He flicked it into Rebecca’s lap. “Forensics also discovered evidence of the house recently being broken into.”

  Rebecca had a moment of professional appreciation for the CSIs who had been able to discover the results of her bobby pin handiwork from a few nights ago.

  “It was you, right?” Faruq asked.

  Rebecca gently placed the report back on the desk and refused to meet his eyes.

  “You’re smart to stay quiet, I guess,” Faruq said. His anger seemed to be abating, but he still paced the room, laying out his case. “My people questioned the neighbors around Jennifer’s rental. Seems some folks have noticed you around a bit lately.” Rebecca looked up at that, her eyes questioning. “It’s a small town, for all its fanciness,” Faruq explained, “and the Griswalds have lots of friends. People know you’re in town and they know why, so you draw attention when you’re around.” Rebecca deflated inside. She should have known there was no way to be inconspicuous here. Damn it. Faruq stopped pacing and hit her with the rest of his line of thought. “One couple my men spoke to recognized your mom’s car from the other night. Said it had been parked at Jennifer’s house for a long time, but no lights went on in the house or anything like that. They were pretty sure Jennifer and her family weren’t even home that night. But that car apparently lingered. You want to tell me your mom was staking out the house?”

  Rebecca followed Faruq’s train of thought as he laid out each bit of his evidence. She saw where he was going and it didn’t look good for her, she had to admit.

  “You’re in serious trouble, Rebecca,” he concluded.

  Faruq was a decent enough cop. Rebecca figured she was probably a better one.

  She shook her head to clear it. She clicked on her professional mind and assessed the situation. She glanced again at the evidence and reports that filled the manilla folder before her. She blew air out her nose, dismissing Faruq’s whole proposal. “Your case is pretty weak,” she offered.

  He stood up straight, hands on his hips. Was that a glimmer of doubt Rebecca caught in his eyes? “Like hell it is,” he said and even elevated his chin a bit. That gave Rebecca hope. It was clear he knew he was partly grasping at straws with his reasoning.

  “Some people saw my car parked at my friend’s house? Then saw it again the next time I went to visit my friend?”

  “Which happened to be when her house was on fire!”

  “Do you have someone placing me or my car at the house before the fire started? No. Because I wasn’t. None of that adds up to much that seems very damning to me.” Rebecca started feeling some of her old detective juices flowing. It may be that she was putting together an argument for her own defense, but the thrill of evaluating evidence was still there. “As for Jennifer’s actual murder,” she went on, “it’s pretty sloppy. I’m a detective. I obviously know how well a coroner can determine cause of death. Do you think I’d be so stupid as to strangle her and burn the house down? It’s a pretty rookie move.” She could see Faruq’s assured façade beginning to crumble. Rebecca laid out her final point. “And what about motive, Faruq? Do you think I was jealous I didn’t make the international pro-volleyball team or something?”

  Faruq deflated, his shoulders dropping and his chest caving slightly. Rebecca almost felt bad for him. After all, a few minutes ago she had been prepared to trust him with the deepest, darkest secret of her life. Instead, she was having to tear his faulty police thinking to shreds.

  “I’ll figure out the motive,” he insisted. “Unless you want to tell me.”

  “The funny thing is, I was all ready to confess something to you,” she said, shaking her head.

  “Monica?” Faruq inquired. He wasn’t stupid. Just grasping at straws. “You wanted to tell me something about Monica?”

  Rebecca studied him. It had been wrong of her to think Faruq was worthy of her trust. She’d actually lucked out. His inept accusations about Rebecca killing Jennifer revealed just how unable to handle the current situation Faruq really was.

  She carefully organized and reshuffled the pictures and reports from the envelope, laid them back down and closed it. A new calm crept over her. She had run a gauntlet and come out the other side surer of herself. Nothing was going to get any easier, but her focus had returned. Her self-assurance was back.

  “C’mon,” Faruq intoned, sitting on the edge of his desk and leaning in. “What did you want to tell me?”

  She looked up at him. It was so clear to her now that she was on her own. Good. She’d have to finally trust herself. To thine own self be true, she thought.

  “What’d I want to tell you?” She shrugged at Faruq. “The food you give the prisoners here fucking sucks.”

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  “Just go,” Faruq said after a while, pinching the bridge of his nose as he sat across from Rebecca. When she didn’t move, he repeated himself, “Just go, Rebecca.”

  “Oh, you don’t have enough to charge me on?” she quipped. She knew the wiser thing would be to get away before he found something to charge her with, but something in his defeated look told her he probably wasn’t going to try anything.

  “Goodbye.” Faruq stood and went over to the door. The knob clicked as he opened the door and held it ajar from behind as he waited for Rebecca to exit. “Get out.”

  “Yes, sir.” Rebecca gave a mock salute and scraped her chair against the floor as hard as she could before leaving the room. She was glad to have him feeling at least a little stupid right now, even if she hadn’t done what she was supposed to do and come clean about everything. “It was his own fault, though,” she told herself as she walked out of the building after picking up her personal articles.

  Now that the police were taken care of, Rebecca knew the real suspect that needed to be talked to was Bruce Hetfield. She had half a mind to go buy a gun before she went to see him but decided against it. She drove herself to Bruce’s Comic Book Shop. Even though Bruce had been able to dodge Rebecca and the police for a while, she knew all of this was going to come to an end soon, and Bruce was going to have to provide an alibi or spend at least one night in a cell for all the times Faruq had locked her up in there.

  When she got to the store, the first thing she noticed was that it was closed. She pulled on the front door of the shop and noticed it was locked, too. Was Bruce even here? Rebecca went around to the other side of the building and tried the door to the back. It was locked, too, but with no witnesses in sight, she began picking it. The lock soon clicked, and Rebecca headed into Bruce’s building, making sure to lock the door back behind herself.

  The lights in the front part of the establishment were off, but light spilled from the wide-open door of the manager area. Leaning into the doorway, Rebecca knocked on the AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY sign with a grin she should have been ashamed of but couldn’t hide.

  Bruce’s head appeared, and his eye
s widened immediately when he saw her. He tried to shut the door to his office, but Rebecca had been thinking one step ahead of him and jammed a chair there before he had a chance. Once at the door, she pushed him back into the room and blocked the exit.

  Her eyes scanned the room, and she noticed Bruce was loading a suitcase full of money and comics, probably rare ones by how he had them packaged in plastic. Crossing her arms, she let her weight shift to one hip. Her eyes went from Bruce to the suitcase.

  “What, are you planning on trying to bug out of town or something?”

  Not bothering to answer, Bruce pressed himself into the part of his wall that wasn’t shrine tainted. Rebecca noticed he’d already fixed what she tore down the last time she was in here.

  “Yeah, you’re definitely trying to leave town,” she resolved. “Well, Bruce, I only have one question, and if you answer that question—and maybe provide some evidence to back it up—I’ll let you leave with no problem.” She paused and sighed. “And I’m sure you know what that question is. Don’t you?”

  Trembling, Bruce licked his lips, but he still didn’t say a word. Rebecca wondered for a moment if he could hear her over the pounding of his heart. She also heard him begin to hyperventilate, his breath rapidly entering and leaving his chest.

  “Listen, passing out isn’t going to do anything for you. Just tell me, Bruce, where were you the day Jennifer died?” Rebecca walked a little closer to Bruce, her arms out in front of her. The second one of her fingers brushed his arm, Bruce pushed Rebecca into the desk and bolted.

  Recovering quickly, Rebecca ran after him. Because of all the locked doors, he didn’t get far before she grabbed his arm.

  “Just answer the question.”

  Bruce continued and dragged Rebecca along with him. He nicked her against one of the comic book shelves and sprinted out of the building as two of the shelves collapsed onto Rebecca. She was able to dodge most of it, but her ankle got caught, and she fell again, slamming her chin into the floor. She was mad now.

  Rebecca shimmied her leg from under the comic books and followed Bruce outside. He’d been on the edge of the sidewalk and waited at the cross walk for a signal to go. When he saw her, he took off into the street, not even bothering to look both ways.