by Dave Cravens
“Perfect!” Parker labeled the card “Heller” and taped it to the center of the kitchen bulletin board. “Now, can you draw me a music teacher?”
It was highly likely Ally had no clue what a music teacher was, but it didn’t deter her from scribbling another angry mess, this time of blue and orange. She appeared to enjoy the profiling task.
“Very good.” Parker labeled the card “Bernstein” and placed it next to Heller. She rubbed her chin. “Ally, I’m going to need quite a few more of these.”
39.
After sufficiently wall papering Valerie’s kitchen with index cards…
Parker and Ally enjoyed a short trip to the edge of town to Sergio’s Used Car Lot. There, a large, brown and tan 4x4 truck with circular lights on its top eased to a halt in front of Sergio’s office. Parker considered herself an 80’s expert having spent so much of her childhood in it, but even she had to ask the truck driver as she helped Ally out.
“Really?” said the driver. “You never watched The Fall Guy as a kid?”
Parker shook her head, ashamed she’d forgotten the TV action comedy detailing the adventures of Hollywood stuntman, Colt Severs. “I should’ve known that.”
“It was probably before your time.” The driver winked and smiled.
“Aw. God bless you, Colt.”
The 4x4 drove off, leaving Parker and Ally at the mercy of Sergio himself, a portly middle-aged Russian man with a kind smile that greeted them in the lot. As it were, Parker and Ally were the only customers at the only game in town that could rent her some wheels. It was either this, or an hour’s drive to San Diego, which Parker figured wouldn’t have given adequate snooping time before returning home with a promised dinner. Parker’s mandate of a family sized vehicle that could tow three kids, plus two adults and whatever crap they’d buy during a weekend Target-run that got out of hand reduced Sergio’s inventory to two possible options.
The first was a Honda Pilot SUV formerly owned by a Mary Kay consultant which would have been perfect if not for its shockingly hot pink paint job and the long, plastic eye-lashes that were glued and bolted around its headlights. “Not exactly subtle,” deemed Parker. “I could use subtle these days.”
The second option sported a modest grey paint job, could seat up to seven passengers with room in the back for a Target, supermarket or Toys R Us run during Christmas time. But Parker couldn’t help but cringe at the idea of it.
“What’s wrong? Is no good?” asked Sergio.
“It’s—” Parker swallowed. “It’s a minivan.”
“Yeah. Chrysler. Town and Country. Good minivan.”
Parker hemmed and hawed. “Yeah, it’s just—” I fucking hate minivans. I hate everything about them. They are boring. They are bland. They don’t accelerate worth a damn. They look funny. They tell the world that you’ve given up on anything remotely exciting in life and that you have literally sacrificed your last shred of dignity to the gods of practical solutions, conventional wisdom, and cottage cheese thighs. “There’s nothing else?”
“There’s San Diego.” Sergio smiled. “Unless you want to buy car. You want to buy car today? I give deal. Great deal on car.”
Parker frowned. She wasn’t ready to buy before seeing what her insurance company was going to offer. It’s only temporary, Parker told herself. “Fine, I’ll rent the minivan.”
After a credit card deposit and a mere ten signatures, Parker found herself sitting in the front seat of the Town and Country with Ally strapped into the supplied car seat behind her. Parker squirmed in the leather, trying to get comfortable more with the idea. “Let’s get this straight,” she told the car. “I don’t like you. I’ll never like you. It’s just how it is. Just get me to where I need to go and not break down or get stolen or some crazy shit like that and we’ll get along the next few days just fine. Got it?”
Parker pushed the ignition button, and the engine and stereo roared to life. Bon Jovi’s dramatic guitar opening to “Wanted Dead or Alive” hummed through the speakers on the FM radio – a clear favorite of Parker’s. Coincidence? “Huh.” She fought off the urge to grin. “If you think playing one of the most awesome songs ever written is going to win me over, it’s going to take more than that.”
But it’s a good start.
Parker put the minivan into drive and took off from the lot. Like the song went, she was determined to find any clue of Heller – dead or alive.
40.
The Town and Country glided across the asphalt…
not nearly as smoothly as Parker’s Highlander and turned a hair wider on corners. It didn’t sit as high, but admittedly high enough for a decent view of the road. Parker found her best excuse for hating the car when the front right speaker started rattling during Bon Jovi’s chorus. Yup, my car is way better, she told herself.
After about twenty minutes of getting the feel for the car, Parker found herself pulling up to Oak Creek Elementary. The lot was empty, as was to be expected so late in the day, and the school was most likely locked. What piqued Parker’s curiosity was the direction that Heller had turned the previous night after the PTA meeting—when she didn’t go home. Parker circled in the empty lot, pulled up to the exit, and turned left just as Heller had done.
The road wound through a neighborhood of parks and houses for several miles. Did Heller stop at any of them? Finding that would be a needle in a haystack. Finally, the road cleared to a stoplight at the Highway 50 intersection on the south edge of town. Parker recognized it—she had crossed it on the way to the Bottomless Cup the day she met with Bernstein. And somewhere, an hour’s drive down that road closer to the border, was Bernstein’s home.
Parker gripped the steering wheel tightly. Did Heller go and see Bernstein after the PTA meeting? She shuttered to think what it might mean if it were true. Bernstein presented himself as a gentle man, but the coincidences with Heller’s disappearance were adding up in all the wrong ways. Was he really sick when he called this morning? Or just pretending to cover for – what? Parker was tempted to make the drive, when another option hit her.
Another person who might be able to shed some light on it is Mr. Heller. Perhaps it’s time to introduce myself?
Parker turned the car around and headed back toward the school. She zoomed past the empty lot and up the street toward Heller’s home. To her surprise, two Sherriff’s cars were parked before the small grey stucco home – one in the driveway, one at the street curb.
Shit.
Parker slowly pulled her minivan along the side of the street, just past the Sherriff’s car to get a clear view of Heller’s door.
I don’t suppose Bill would be thrilled to find me lurking around. But if he’s not in there, I could pretend to be a good friend of Heller’s checking in on the husband.
Parker stopped her car and threw it in neutral. “What do you think? Think it’s a good time to say hello?” Parker looked back to Ally for permission. But Ally was fast asleep from all the driving.
Just then Parker saw the front door open, and a smiling Sherriff Bill emerge.
“Fuck!” Parker turned away and quickly put the minivan into gear. She eased up the street, but not so fast to draw attention.
The ruse didn’t matter. Parker spied Bill in her rear-view mirror. He shuttled to his car and flung open his door. Red and blue gumball lights flashed on with a quick whoop of the siren, followed by an announcement on the loudspeaker. “Would the nosey woman in the minivan please stop her vehicle?”
“Double fuck!” Parker eased to a halt on the street. Bill slowly walked up to the driver’s side. Despite Parker’s anger over being caught, she plastered a huge smile on her face when she rolled down the window. “Is there something wrong, officer?” Parker batted her eyes.
Bill smiled. “You just can’t help yourself, can you?”
“I was in the neighborhood, I thought I’d drop by.”
“Parker.”
“Okay, fine, I’m curious. Is that a crime?”
Desperate to be heard, Parker raised her finger. “Bernstein! Have you questioned Bernstein? He says he was sick, but he lives in the general direction of—”
“Parker!” Bill shouted. He took a deep breath and smiled. “It’s okay.”
“Ha! I knew you’d come around. You won’t regret this, Bill. I live for investigating shit like this.”
Bill chuckled. “No, no, I mean the search is over.”
Parker gulped. “Over?”
“We found her. We found Heller.”
41.
Parker casually titled her head, trying not to hint at her absolute shock.
“You found her?” she blurted. “So, where is she?”
Bill looked away. “Well,” he stammered. “we don’t know.”
Parker sat up in her seat. “You don’t know?”
“She won’t tell us.”
“She won’t tell you.” Parker tried to hold back a smug grin. “So, really, you didn’t find Heller at all.”
“Heller sent a text to her husband about an hour ago.”
Parker gave her best heavy sarcastic nod. “A text?”
“Yes.”
“She didn’t even call.”
“No.”
“She didn’t stop by. Pop in. She sent the most emotionally detached communication one can send in the twenty-first century to a spouse worried sick about her not coming home.”
Bill swallowed. “Correct.”
“That doesn’t sound strange to you?”
“Of course, it does,” Bill admitted. “Why do you think I’m here?”
Parker nodded to the other Sherriff’s car. “I see you brought back up.”
“Deputy Michaels was first on the scene when we got the call from Mr. Heller. I joined him shortly after.”
Parker took a mental note of the name. “None of this sounds right. What exactly did Mrs. Heller text her husband?”
Bill flipped open his notepad. “You know I’m simply humoring you, right? I don’t have to do this.”
“Just read the damn text.”
Bill cleared his throat. “`Ken, I didn’t mean to worry you. There is something I have to take care of. I will be home soon.’”
“Soon?” Parker drew a deep breath in an effort to clear her mind of the insults it was hurtling at Bill. She couldn’t believe his amateur assessment. “That’s it? You’re ending a missing person’s case based on that? How do you even know it’s Heller texting and not someone else?”
“Mr. Heller and Mrs. Heller went back and forth a couple times. We had him ask her a question only the two of them would know.”
“And?”
The Sheriff shrugged. “It checked out.”
“What was the question?”
Bill clapped shut his notepad. “It’s private, Parker. Mr. Heller seems satisfied. And frankly, I’ve told you more than you need to know.”
Parker reached for her door handle. “I want to speak with Mr. Heller.”
Bill pushed on Parker’s door, preventing her from opening it. “Oh no,” he insisted. “That poor man’s been through enough today. He doesn’t need to play twenty questions with you. This is police business. Case closed. Let’s all move on with our lives.”
Parker glared at Bill but left it at that. There was no point in making a scene. She turned to look at Heller’s house, and noted the small, dark shadowy figure that peaked through the blinders. Mr. Heller, you and I will speak – soon. Parker put her minivan into gear. She forced a smile at Bill. “I guess we’ll see.”
“See what?” asked Bill.
“If this case stays closed.”
“Why wouldn’t it?”
“Karen Heller has yet to come home.” Parker rolled up her window and drove off.
42.
“What in the doting Doris Day did you do to my kitchen?”
asked a stunned Valerie as she took in the sight before her. Post It notes, and index cards lined every inch of the bulletin board and spilled over onto the wall, connecting ideas and names with strings of red yarn. Valerie muttered some of the topics: Old Yeller Heller, Mr. Bernstein, Stolen Instruments, Stolen Car, Bad Coffee, PTA Bitches, but squinted at the ones that seemed to confuse her -- Silver Fox, Baby Face, Bottomless Cup. “And why are there random doodles with each name? Did you pull Ally into all of this?”
Parker slammed her plastic bag full of Chuck’s Chicken Chunks fried chicken onto the kitchen counter. “Food!” she yelled at the top of her lungs. Maddy and Drew’s footsteps could be heard scampering across the ceiling before they clomped down the stairs like a pair of Clydesdales.
Ally happily pointed to her crayon profile drawings for her grandmother. “Mine!”
Parker started to pull out the boxes of fried chicken. “Mom, this is how I sort through my thoughts sometimes,” she grumbled. Parker found herself slamming each subsequent box of chicken onto the counter harder than the previous. “For all the good it did.”
Valerie opened her cupboard full of plates to assist her daughter’s efforts. “Why do you say that?”
“They found Heller.”
Valerie’s eyes widened. “They did? Is she okay? Where has she been?”
Parker pried open a box of chicken and bit into a large drumstick, tearing the meat off the bone like a savage. She stared at her mother as she chewed. “She won’t say.”
Valerie frowned. “I don’t understand.”
Parker shook her head. “I don’t either. She texted her husband. Said she’d be back soon. None of this shit makes sense.” Parker threw her hands in the air. “But everybody seems to think it’s okay!”
Drew rushed into the kitchen and eagerly attacked the boxes of Chuck’s Chicken. Maddy took her time, watching her mother and grandmother closely.
Valerie prepared a plate for Ally. “What did the Sheriff say about it?”
Parker took another sizeable bite. “That its none of my business.” She growled with a mouthful. “Can you believe that?”
“He’s right.”
Parker stopped chewing. At first, she thought the statement had come from Valerie, but her mother’s eyes were as wide with surprise as Parker’s. Parker turned to find Maddy standing next to her with her arms folded. “Excuse me?” asked Parker.
“He’s right,” Maddy repeated. “It’s none of your business.”
Parker’s jaw dropped. She had to wipe her face suddenly to keep from chicken falling out. “You want to explain yourself, young lady?”
“Are you going to listen?” Maddy scoffed. “Like you said you would this morning?”
Parker firmly slammed down her drumstick onto the counter. “You want my full attention? You have it.”
Maddy gulped, given pause by her mother’s measured calm – a clear sign of the volcano of anger bubbling beneath the surface. Yet the eldest child would not back down. “It’s Chicago all over again.”
Parker blinked. “What?”
“All you care about is the story. You don’t care about anything else.”
“That’s not true.”
Maddy pointed to the kitchen wall. “Then what is that?”
Parker clenched her fists. “Maddy, I don’t expect you to understand. But there’s something very wrong going on here.”
“I know! I thought, for once, you were going to act like my mom!”
“I don’t need to act!” Parker founder herself seething. She took another bite of chicken to calm herself. “I’m a great mom!”
“No!” Maddy shouted. She trembled as she searched for her words. “Other moms--they make dinner! From scratch! And they pick their kids up from school on time! And help their kids with their homework! They don’t get into trouble with the principal! They don’t get their cars stolen! They don’t sneak around trying to solve mysteries all day long!”
“I need to figure out what is going on at your school, Maddy!”
“That’s not your job!”
“To protect my children?
Yes, yes, it is my job!” Parker barked. “I need to know you are safe in your school! I need some assurance your principal, or your gym teacher or your piano teacher aren’t crazed lunatics making trouble!”
“My school isn’t safe?” Maddy’s eyes glistened. “Is Mr. Bernstein—a crazed--lunatic?” The idea seemed to break her brain.
Oh fuck. Parker scratched her head, realizing her huge mistake. “No, Maddy.” Shit. “I’m sorry. Get that out of your head, okay? I was just making a point.”
Maddy’s face wrinkled into a portrait of anguish. Her lips trembled. “Why would you say that?” She cried.
“I’m sorry! I’m sorry, Maddy, listen—”
“You ruin everything! Why do you have to ruin everything?” Maddy screamed and ran out of the kitchen. Her feet clomped up the stairs until she slammed her bedroom door shut.
Valerie finally exhaled as though she had held her breath for the duration of the fight. “That could’ve gone better.”
Parker hung her head in shame. She was used to arguing with adults. Sometimes Maddy fooled her into thinking she could be spoken to like one.
Drew took a bite out of his chicken. “Well,” he said chewing. “If what you say is true, school might want to rethink their no gun rules.”
“Drew!” Parker snapped. “There is nothing wrong with your school, okay?”
“But you just said--!”
Parker flashed her son an angry glare. “I know what I said.”
“Parker,” Valerie put her hand on her daughter’s shoulder. “Drew has a point. If Heller is okay. If you’re saying the school is safe. Then what is all this about?” She waved her hand over the index card covered wall.
I don’t know. Fuck—I don’t know!
Without a word, Parker grabbed her phone out of the can of rice and exited the room.
43.
Hours later, Parker sat in the front room in total darkness…
staring at the smooth brick on the end table. Her phone had been plugged in hours ago but had yet to come back to life.
Please work. I need a win. I need something to go my way tonight. Just – work for me okay?
