His name is Joe. She says as she erects a huge smile.
And there it is. Fuck me this is going to be awkward. I can’t hide the fact that this disturbs me. This won’t be easy.
I need to tell you something.
What is it? She says to me with an utter look of concern.
The man you described to me. He and I used to date.
Lydia suddenly drops her water glass onto the floor. Glass smashes everywhere beneath our feet and water seeps into the sole of our shoes. This was an act of shock. But part of me feels that Lydia purposely dropped that glass just to make a statement. She wants to now be heard.
This is getting too fucking weird for me. Aurelia, please get the fuck out of my house.
Lydia, watch your god damn mouth! How many times do I-
Mom, I love you. But you are acting like a whore and speaking with this whore isn’t going to help you be less of a whore.
Whore? I haven’t had sex in almost nine months. What the fuck gives her that impression of me.
You know what, before this I was letting everything go because I felt sorry for her. But now it’s time to stop. I’m done being fucking nice to this disrespectful little shit.
Lydia, I know this is uncomfortable for you. But it is for all of us. So don’t go calling me a whore just because you can’t handle the reality of this situation.
Oh I can understand it just fine. You hated our dad. I don’t even understand why you’re here. For all I know, you could’ve been the one to kill him. It seems like you hate him enough to do that.
I slam my hands down on the dinner table where we sit. It ruptures the wood. The plates vibrate and the sound of knives and forks clattering with the plate continues to echo through the room.
Don’t ever fucking accuse me of something like that. But you’re right. I did hate our dad. He was the worst man I’ve ever met. And I am not alone. Ask anyone what they think of “Jim Duke”. They’ll give you nothing but negative responses.
Lydia’s mother begins to cry. An ugly cry. The one that’s real and comes from deep within.
Aurelia, just please get out of our house. You’re upsetting mom. You’re upsetting me. And you are embarrassing yourself.
You know what, Lydia. I will fucking leave.
I get all my shit together as quick as possible and make way for the door. That little fucking shit. Who the fuck does she think she is. She has the temper that dad had. That’s for sure. That fire-like, emotionally and physically abusive temper. The one that literally killed my mother.
You are exactly like dad. You know that?
I exit.
Chapter 22. The Act of God
December 3, 2020
Detective Larry Pete
The year is soon coming to a close. Usually, upon hearing that it would make me a little nostalgic. Looking back on all the good times I had that year. This year I don’t have any nostalgia. None. I have eight more weeks left in the year, and I must take three off them off. Technically, it’s a suspension. But Walters called it a vacation. He went up to Canada to take his time off. Said it was peaceful. He got to hunt and fish for three weeks straight. I never knew he was either of those things, but hey? Do I know anything these days?
All I have to show for this year is this case file. And the saddest part is? There’s hardly anything inside of it. Let’s see, we have the original note. The Randall Adams note. Which we literally never got to the bottom of. Which is ridiculous, but whatever. Headshots. Reported sightings. All of which were looked into and turned out to be fake. Like, this guy right here. He said he saw a bearded man that he believed to be Jim Duke. The report came from Bangor, Maine. The man said he was with another man. A younger man. They were driving a red, beat up Chevy. He said they had firewood in the back seat and were travelling with a dog. Seems reasonable, right? Wrong. We went all the way up to Bangor only for the man to tell us that he wasn’t positive if it was Jim Duke or not, and that we shouldn’t take his word.
What else is in here? Some transcripts. Oh- man. The transcripts from the first time meeting Aurelia and Lydia. And here is the one from when they met each other. I wonder how their relationship is nowadays. They both really lost their shit that day. Lydia came in to the meeting with a fire in her eyes. Whereas Aurelia was calm until she felt threatened by Lydia. What did she say to her again? That was really intense.
It was about her Father, and how he was abusive to her mother one day at some cabin that they used to frequent. That really scared the shit out of her. She didn’t react verbally, but actions do speak louder than words. She was visibly terrified. But I mean, seriously, how do people get away with shit like that? You know, being a wife-beater. It enrages me how so many people get away with it. But my question is how.
For instance, let’s say a man hits his girlfriend and gives her a black eye. Even if he forces her to put make-up on it, someone is bound to see it sometime. Right? Especially if you live in a city. People would notice from a mile away and some of those people would even take it upon themselves to approach you and ask if everything is okay. Well, I guess he did do it somewhere up in bum-fuck, Maine. You could probably get away with anything up there-
Dear God.
I need to get these girls together so they can give me more. I need the location of this cabin. It is the last essential task I must complete in order to have full closure of this dying case.
Chapter 23. Sisterly resolution
December 4, 2020
Aurelia Pelisson
When can this whole thing just fucking end. Let me ask-
Hey Pete, when can this whole fucking thing just end?
After this. I promise.
Pete says a lot of things. That guy just really has no handle on his own life, does he? No Aurelia, that’s rude. He has been nothing but helpful since the start. I just don’t see why we have to do this. He didn’t even give us a reason why. He just said he needed some information for the case. Which, I thought was already shut. But I must have been wrong.
I’ve been more frustrated recently. I’m trying to cut back on recreational drug usage. It’s really turning me into an angry person. But according to all the experts, this phase should pass soon. I didn’t mean to snap at Lydia like that a few weeks ago. Tensions were already high and I was feeling over-emotional about the anniversary of the death of my father.
Lydia enters. Her mother stays outside of the interrogation room.
Detective Pete, do we really have to do this?
I’m afraid so, Lydia. Please sit.
Lydia doesn’t break eye contact with me as she paces from the door to the empty chair opposite me. This reminds me a little of the first time we met. Only with a lot more hostility.
Okay, from what I’ve been hearing from your mother. You two aren’t getting along. Now, I don’t personally give a shit. But I want to both to hear what I have to say. Then you both are going to speak to each other. If I do my job well, you both should be leaving with at least a sense of closure. If I do my job poorly, your relationship will stay the exact same with each other, if not worse. So here it goes.
Detective Pete looks confident. It’s a good look for him. For an older man, he actually is quite attractive. I see it now. Don’t get ahead of yourself Aurelia, it’s not like he’s Brad Pitt. He just has a little more to him now than I first saw is all.
Your Father, known to me and the rest of the world as Jim Duke. Lydia, to you he was Jim Arnold. And Aurelia, to you he was Jim Pelisson. Each of us knew him as a different individual. Lydia, to you he was your loving father. Aurelia, to you he was your abusive father. But to me and the rest of the world, he is one of the greatest criminals in recent history. The evidence against and surrounding him is astounding. I’ve never set my eyes on someone so guilty of the crimes he was accused of committing. Ladies, think what you will, but I am only here to give you the facts. Your father was the orchestrator of the mass murder of three hundred people. It was his idea and his doing. This you
must know and accept. What you say to each other from here on in is now on you. That was all I had to say. When you are finished talking, I will ask a couple of questions to wrap the case up and then we will be officially finished.
It’s time to make amends. We’ve been fighting each other for no reason other than grief. I feel as though we’ve both known this for a while. It’s time to just get this over with.
Lydia, I’m sorry. I should have never acted the way I did around you.
It’s okay. I’m just still so confused about everything. I didn’t mean to take it out on you.
Sincerity? This is the first of seen of it from her.
You know I’ve always wanted a sister?
She starts to cry. A happy cry.
Me too.
Lydia jumps up out of her seat and rushes toward me. She grabs onto me as tight as her little arms allow her to. We hug.
I’m so sorry, I just miss him so much.
I know you do. I spent most of my life missing him. He does that to people. He drags them in and destroys their lives when he leaves.
Now I start to cry. Great. I hate showing emotion like this. It’s embarrassing. But I can’t stop it.
Ladies, this is extremely touching but I’m afraid I must ask you my questions now.
Okay.
That was the most naturally, genuine tender experiences that I’ve had in a long time. It’s all coming back to me now. What it feels like to be truly loved.
Aurelia, you mentioned a cabin that you used to go to with your father and mother. Can you tell me about it?
Why does he want to know about the cabin? What difference is that going to make now? He’s dead, and I doubt that he’d find anything up there to re-open this case. It was a family vacation home.
Well, it was just our vacation house. Dad built it with his bare hands. It had an old feel to it. We didn’t have any electricity or heating. We used oil lamps to light the rooms and a fireplace to heat ourselves. As you remember me saying, it was the last place that I saw my father.
Lydia, have you even been to or heard of this cabin?
No. I haven’t been to it or heard of it. Until I met Aurelia.
I understand that this was Detective Pete’s primary intention, but he could’ve just asked us this straight up. He could’ve even asked us over the phone. Yet, he didn’t He decided that we should get a chance to talk to each other before he extracted our information. I appreciate that from him.
This case clearly means a lot to him. My father affected his life just as much as mine and just as much as Lydia’s. He deserves to have his closure. It will be more difficult for him. Especially if my father really is dead. But if there’s a chance he’s not, I hope Detective Pete gets his closure.
Okay girls. Thank you for that. One last question for you, Aurelia.
What is it?
Do you remember anything about the exact location of the cabin?
Think Aurelia. Think. You remember some of it. There has to be something that you remember that can help end this whole thing.
I remember the town being about thirty minutes from our cabin. I got sick once and had to go into town with my dad to get the medicine. Also, I remember him speaking French with the store clerk. He used to speak French all the time. That’s why I’m named what I’m named. Because of his love for the French language.
He spoke French. In Northern Maine? And somebody actually understood?
Yes. As far as I remember. He spoke French with people a lot actually. He always tried to bring us to places where we could hear the language. That’s probably why he built the cabin close to there.
More than one person spoke French in this town?
As far as I remember, Detective. Yes.
He stubs out his cigarette and stands up to shake our hands. I like this change in him. Maybe when all of this is over I’ll reach out to him. Maybe.
Girls, thank you both so much for your co-operation. I hope both of you find your way soon. And if you ever need anything, you know you can contact me.
Chapter 24. The Mailman
December 5, 2020
Detective Larry Pete
Well, there it is. My first official suspension. Starting the seventh I will officially be on a three week vacation. Finding and killing Jim Duke will be the best vacation I ever fucking had. Well, Cabo with the ex in 99’ was fantastic. But, apart from that this would take the cake.
Any moment now I am expecting a phone call from the most accurate a source can get. The local mailmen. If you think about it, mailmen fly completely under the radar. They know your name, your address, who is mailing you, how many people mail you, what your house looks like, what your children look like etcetera etcetera. They know everything there is worth knowing. And luck me, I’m expecting a call from one of them.
Firstly, I’d like to thank the academy you guys are great. Secondly, I’d like to thank my parents for raising me to be the most intellectual, morally-sane cold-blooded killer that there ever was. And lastly, I’d like to thank my ex-wife. You are the reason I couldn’t let this go. Maybe I needed it at first, but now I’m officially putting an end to it. To everyone involved in making my life a living hell for over twenty years, a big thank you.
Suddenly- My phone rings.
This is Larry Pete.
Hey Larry, this is Steve. The mailman.
How’s it going, Steve. Have you got something for me?
I do, Larry. Obviously this is confidential but you’re an FBI man so I think you’ll keep it quiet. The man you refer to as Jim Duke looks an awful lot like Jim Pierre. He used to live about twenty-five miles outside town. Spoke French with the townspeople mostly. Most of us do here. Haven’t brought mail to him in a while, so not sure if he’s still living there or not.
Fucking fantastic.
Are you positive, Steve?
Larry, I been doing this for forty years. I was born in Frenchville and I ain’t never left. I know everyone that comes and goes. Even if they ain’t friendly. So, to answer your question, Larry. Yes, I am positive.
Chapter 25. The Showdown
December 24, 2020
Detective Larry Pete
It’s god damn fucking cold up here. Northern Maine is the last god damn place on earth I would want to be right now. And look at me, I’m fucking here. Freezing my god damn ass off in this fucking tree. The wind blows by. It chills me right to my bone. If only I still had the sunlight. I lost that a couple hours ago. I wonder if Duke has a fireplace in that Cabin of his? I can see what looks like a burning ember through his rear window, but it might just be a mirage. I do feel like I’m losing my fucking mind. Maybe that’s it.
Eighteen days staking out this god damn house and the fuck comes home in the middle of the night. I’m lucky that he finally showed up. My days off were running out. I don’t think I could’ve handled another night at the motel. This is the longest I’ve been outside of the city since great-aunt died back in 86’. That was a rough few weeks in Lancaster county, Pennsylvania.
Holy shit. Who the fuck is that? Who is in that car? It’s driving right toward the Cabin. A beat up, old Chevy. Not like many of the cars that you’d see around here. This kind of climate would destroy a classy vehicle like that. Hell, I only ever see a few of them every month in Boston. Mostly in the Suburbs. You know, people who would only use it to drive to and from the city and show it off along the way. They live unhappy lives with their family in their boring fucking towns and their only escape is that Chevy that they drive to and from work every day. Sure, maybe they’ll turn a few heads. But to them, all that matters is how it makes them feel. I know a fucker like that. Fucking Walters. The worst fucking guy I know. I’m exhausting myself continuously thinking about this guy. He owns a lot of mental real estate in my head. Why? I could never figure out why. Sure, that image I have of him perched over that lifeless nightwalker haunts the shit out of me. But that’s not it. It feels more personal than that. It has always felt extremely personal. L
ike it has always been me versus him in the end.
During my divorce I experienced a total loss of identity. I had always been a married man in my own eyes. Hell, I met my wife -ex-wife- when I was fifteen. We were High School sweethearts. And it all got taken away so suddenly. I was scrambling. Nothing was right and everything was wrong. I think I needed Walters. I needed an enemy. Someone to focus all of my negative energy and anger upon. And I must have done just that. Him and Jim Duke. Even though neither of them truly did anything to hurt me. Walters is just a fucking asshole and Duke is, well, I suppose I never really knew what Duke was truly like. I always saw him as this fucking Alpha male, dominant, do-whatever-you-want type of guy. I envied him. Truly, I did. And until all of this, I never truly hated the man. I talked a big game around the other detectives always saying how I was going to beat the shit out of Duke when I finally caught him, but now that I’m here, I just don’t know if I am physically able to. After tonight I will officially have nothing to live for. This case has been my life since my life ended all of those years ago. When Duke is behind bars, it’s all over. Sure I could get another case thrown at me next week, but it’ll never be the same. I’ll never share the same level of interest in a criminal than I have with Duke.
But, he did fucking kill hundreds of people. Children, just like mine and just like his. The man deserves to be fucking burnt alive. No amount of insecurity that I have could deter me from ensuring that Jim Duke pays for what he’s done. The man deserves to die. And whoever is in that car probably deserves to fucking die too. The man in that car is part of the reason I’m here, after all. The man in that car has been close to me for years, yet has never shown himself to me. The man in that car is the reason we never caught Duke. That man is just as responsible for all of those deaths. What a fucking piece of shit, whoever it is. Jesus Christ I need a cigarette. Chill out, Larry. You can have one when all this is over.
Stayaway Hideaway Page 8
