“Nothing yet,” Doctor Rollins answered, “but we’ll let you know what’s decided after I speak with him. There’s a bit of paperwork we need to discuss first. More than that, I’m really not at liberty to say. I’m deeply sorry, Mr. Abernathy. If there were any other way…”
Irwin held up his hand to stop her from continuing. He didn’t want her pity. “I understand. Please, all I ask is that you don’t do anything until I’m…” Irwin choked back tears. “I want to be here when it happens.”
Doctor Rollins squeezed Irwin’s arm gently. “I’ve got rounds to make, and I’ll let you get back to your reading. Take care of yourself,” she said to Irwin. “See you later,” she called out to Dakota, but only the clicking, metallic sounds of Dakota’s life support machines busy at work dared to respond.
“Now, where were we?” Irwin opened the book to the last page read of Tuesdays With Morrie by Mitch Albom. Irwin cleared his throat and began to read aloud, but the pressure from tears threatening to splat on the page became too much for Irwin to hold back, so he closed the book and sat in silence. His sad, weary eyes fixated on the lifeless shell named Dakota, while his dark, agonizing thoughts remained stuck in an endless loop. Falling.
***
After Irwin arrived home, he paid a few bills and poured a bowl of milk to leave outside for his neighbor’s cat, Mr. Bones. Then he put up a load of laundry. Lastly, hungry himself, he threw a frozen chicken pot pie into the oven.
Irwin set the timer, poured himself a brandy, and sank down into his favorite chair to read. He plucked from the top of the pile the book he had attempted to read from the evening before, leaned back in his comfy chair, and took a long swig of his drink. “Ah, much better.” Irwin closed his eyes and started to drift off just as the phone blasted him awake.
Birring.
“Oh, what now? he grumbled, adding a few extra colorful expletives as he slapped the book down and stomped to the phone, swearing the entire way.
“You had better not be a telemarketer,” he warned, lifting the receiver. “Irwin Abernathy here. Speak!” he barked.
“Irwin, it’s me…Regan.”
“Regan?”
“Listen, I hate to bother you, but you know that girl you asked me to give the book to?”
“Yes…”
“Well, she’s here.”
“Here, as in at the library, here?”
“Of course. Where else?”
Irwin rolled his eyes. “And this is news because…”
“Because she’s in the woman’s bathroom, crying.” Regan held the phone in the air. “She refuses to come out until she speaks to you.”
Irwin stared at the phone in utter disbelief.
“Irwin?” said Regan. “Hey…Irwin! Are you still there?”
“I’m here.”
“Well, what do you want me to tell her?” Regan asked, sounding fraught with desperation.
“Tell her to go home,” he grumbled into the phone.
“Irwin, this is serious,” admonished Regan. “The girl’s really upset.” A loud banging could be heard over the line.
“What the hell was that?” Irwin was already removing his semi-frozen pot pie from the oven.
“Presumably, her father. She says she doesn’t want to speak to him and refuses to leave until he does.”
“He’s a monster,” shouted Harper, her voice echoing against the tiled bathroom walls. “I never want to speak to him again.”
“Did you hear that?” asked Regan.
“The entire block could hear that,” snapped Irwin. He stared into space, nearly choking the receiver. “Why me? Would you at least ask her that? Why me?”
Regan repeated Irwin’s question to Harper. The girl’s muffled reply split open the already seeping, raw wound left behind by Gilly and Dakota.
“Because I trust you.”
“Did you hear her?” asked Regan.
“I heard her.”
“So, you’re coming, right?”
“Fine…I’ll be there shortly.”
“Thanks, Irwin. I’ll let the police know.”
“The who?” Irwin shouted, but by then, Regan had already hung up. “Damn it all.”
CHAPTER 6
Harper
Harper and Regan exchanged conspiratorial looks as they huddled together behind the cracked open door, snooping on Janice giving Darren a good dressing down outside the woman’s bathroom.
“Janice can get a bit carried away sometimes,” whispered Regan.
“Darren deserves it,” mumbled Harper, impressed and eager for somebody to stand up to that guy.
“Who do you think you are, trying to barge in there?” scolded Janice to Darren. “This is a public library, sir, not some saloon. For your information, people come here to read and to expand their minds. They bring their children here precisely because there’s an assumption, a well-deserved assumption, mind you, that it’s safe. What they don’t come for is your vulgar brand of street thuggery and soap opera drama.”
Saloon?
“Totally savage,” muttered Harper, impressed, her chapped lips twisted in a grin.
“Janice,” interrupted Roger. He yanked her sleeve, but Janice, too deep into her speech to catch air, wasn’t paying him the slightest bit of attention.
“Save your family dysfunction for the mall—but not here, my friend. Not in my library you don’t!” Janice roared, lifting her stately nose haughtily in the air.
Harper stifled a giggle. “She’s good.” Regan nodded.
“Janice,” murmured Roger louder. “I don’t think this is helping,” he said and shifted his body intentionally between Harper’s furious father and Janice.
“Nonsense, Roger,” admonished Janice, undaunted and raring to go.
As if by cue, a tall, strapping Area Regional police officer with a face that belonged splayed on a fashion magazine cover arrived on the scene. Janice saw him enter first.
“Now you’re in for it,” Janice threatened, thrusting her long-manicured talon in Darren’s chest.
“Now he’s in for it,” repeated Harper under her breath, cracking the door a little wider to get a better view.
The police officer walked up to the trio and gave each a tentative nod. “What seems to be the problem?” he asked.
Darren, Janice, and Roger began speaking at the same time.
“Whoa now,” said the officer, holding up his hands. “One at a time.” He glanced at Janice. “Why don’t you go first, Miss…”
“Stroop,” offered Roger. “Janice Stroop. Our glorious leader and Sergeant in Arms.”
Janice shot Roger the side-eye. “I’m Head Librarian and Branch Manager,” she said, not finding Roger the least bit amusing.
“And who phoned in the disturbance?”
“I did,” confirmed Janice. “This ridiculous man is disturbing the peace, and I want him removed.”
The officer gave Janice a slight head-bob. “One thing at a time, Miss Stroop.” He looked towards Roger. “And you are?” asked the officer.
“Roger Ledbetter. Librarian and Circulation Supervisor.” Roger had worked at the library since straight out of college. He loved nothing more than to tout his title at every opportunity.
“And you?” asked the officer, jutting his chin in Darren’s direction.
“I’m the father.”
“Of the girl refusing to come out of the bathroom,” confirmed Moore.
“Father my ass,” groaned Harper in Regan’s ear.
To his credit, the handsome officer didn’t seem at all fazed by the bizarre situation. “Miss Stroop, if you could, I’d like you to please wait over there by those tables—you too, sir,” he said to Roger. “I’d like to have a word with the father.”
Roger left first, while Janice, who apparently didn’t take kindly to being dismissed, grumbled her disapproval loudly with each subsequent footstep.
Harper quietly cracked the door open a little bit more—just enough to comfortably keep snooping. T
his was too good to miss.
“Thank you,” said Officer Moore to the parting pair. Turning to Darren, “You said you’re the father?”
“Yeah. That’s right.”
“Can you explain to me why your daughter decided to lock herself in the bathroom?”
“No idea,” asserted Darren, much too coolly. “I saw her run into the library bawling and then she headed straight into the bathroom. I wasn’t trying to cause a scene like that screwy woman just told you. I just wanted to make sure my kid was okay.”
Incensed, Harper poked her entire face out the slightly ajar door. “Liar!” she yelped. “He’s a liar, Officer. Don’t believe a single word that slime ball says.”
“Harper!” Darren bolted for the door, but Harper was quicker and managed to slam and relock it by the time he got there.
Darren pounded the door with his fist. “Come on already—I just want to talk to you,” he shouted.
“Go away and leave me alone,” yelled Harper.
Darren hissed. “Harper Leigh, if you don’t open this door…”
“You’ll what?” she challenged her father.
“Sir, step away from the bathroom door,” instructed the officer. “Now!”
“I just want to speak to my daughter.”
“I understand that, but she doesn’t want to talk to you, so for now, I want you to step away. Let’s give her some space and see if we can sort this mess out.” While delivered with flair, to all those present the officer’s request sounded closer to a command.
Harper heard the voices fade as they moved away. She waited a few seconds more before cracking the door open enough to watch the circus outside unfold. She watched Darren, under the stares and glares of a small but gathering group of curious library patrons, walk past Janice. Harper had to contain a laugh when Darren shot Janice a dirty look. Unfazed, Janice matched and raised her countenance as only Janice could.
“Show’s over, folks,” said the officer, turning towards the small crowd. “Please go back to what you were doing.” To Darren, he crooked a finger. “Follow me,” he said and escorted Darren farther down the hall. “Now, let’s start from the top. You said your daughter was upset and ran into the library, correct?”
“Yeah. That’s right.”
“And then what happened?”
“I told you, I followed her inside, but by the time I got in, she had already locked herself in the women’s bathroom.”
Officer Moore scribbled something in his notebook. “Did you come to the library together?”
“What do you mean by come together?”
The officer, already exhausted from pulling a double shift, had no energy left for Darren’s stupid games. “Did-you-arrive-in-the-same-vehicle?” he enunciated, spittle forming at the corner of his mouth. “Did-you-walk-here-together? Did-you-plan-in-advance-to meet here?” His patience had obviously petered out.
“No. Not really.”
The officer cut his eyes and rubbed his temple. “To which one?”
Darren, not always the sharpest tool in the shed, as far as Harper was concerned, shrugged. “All of ‘em?”
At this point, the officer cocked his head towards the ceiling and counted to five before responding. “Let’s try this again, shall we? What led up to your daughter locking herself in the bathroom?”
Darren frowned, clearly calculating his response.
The officer waved a hand in Darren’s face. “Hey, buddy, I advise you to stop playing games and jerking me around. I’m tired. I’ve had a long day and night. The last thing I want to do right now is dance with you. Now, I’m going to ask you this one more time. Why is your daughter upset?”
Darren pinched the bridge of his nose and ran a chafed hand over his five o’clock shadow before committing to a response. “Okay. I’m going to level with you.”
The officer, his fist planted on his belt, stood tall. With his legs spread apart, he looked like a superhero ready to burst into action. “Go ahead.”
“I’m not gonna lie. Harper’s mother and I haven’t exactly been together for a while. I’m talking years. You get me?”
The officer nodded. “I got you. And?”
“And I came over to her house this afternoon—just to talk to Olivia. That’s my ex’s name—who is also Harper—my daughter’s mother.”
“Okay…”
“I went over there to see if I could patch things up between us. See if she’d be willing to give me another shot. I mean, what do I have to lose, right?”
The officer recoiled but nodded for Darren to continue.
“Thing is, the kid overheard us. One thing led to the other, and Harper freaked the hell out. She started screaming her head off, calling me terrible names, and ran out of the house before I could explain. I tried to get her to come back inside, but by then, she was too pissed off to listen. Olivia got worried, so I offered to track Harper down and bring her back home. That’s how I wound up here. End of story.”
The officer turned his pad to a fresh page. “Your full name?” he asked, continuing to take field notes.
“Darren Crane.”
“Any middle initial?”
“E, for Elliot.”
“Daughter’s name?”
“Harper Leigh Crane.”
“Age?”
“Hers or mine?”
“Both.”
“She’s…” Darren squinted and started to mumble, seemingly doing the math in his head. When that apparently failed, he began to count backward using his fingers. “I’m thirty-six, so that would make Harper sixteen.”
The officer sighed. “Address?”
Darren dithered.
The officer peered up from his pad. “Address?” he repeated more forcefully.
“East Stroudsburg.” Darren lowered his voice. “I’m staying at the half-way house.”
The officer narrowed his eyes. “Parole?”
“Yeah.”
“Working phone number?”
“Not at the moment.”
“Parole officer’s name?”
Darren slipped his hand into his back pocket and produced his parole officer’s business card.
The officer copied down the information.
“Here,” said the officer, handing the card back. “Last question for now—and I warn you for a second time, you don’t want to lie to me.”
Darren nodded.
“Is there a restraining order in place?”
“Like that says I can’t see my own kid or something?” asked Darren, crossing his arms over his chest.
“Your kid, your ex—either one.”
“Then, no. None of that.”
“Fine.” The officer snapped his notebook shut for the moment. “Hang tight here. I’m going to speak to your daughter.” The officer passed Janice and Roger, still huddled together, conversing in whispers. “Thank you for waiting. I’ll be with the both of you shortly,” he said and headed straight to the bathroom door and knocked twice.
“Harper? I’m Officer Moore. Can I talk to you for a minute?”
No response.
Behind the door, Harper gnawed on her bottom lip, but she refused to speak, uncertain that anyone, including a seasoned police officer, would understand how much she loathed the man calling himself her father.
“Come on, Harper. Look, I get you’re upset. But I just want to make sure you’re okay. And I’d like to hear your version of events.” Officer Moore air-snapped his fingers at Janice, making the hand sign for key. She gave him the thumbs-up and sprinted toward the office. Then to Harper, “I want to help you if you’ll let me.”
“I’m not coming out,” shouted Harper, this time emphatically.
“Then can you at least come to the door, so we can talk instead of all this yelling?” he asked. “The Head Librarian’s giving me the evil eye. I hear she’s pretty strict about using inside voices.”
A moment passed. “Fine, but I won’t come out until he leaves,” she sniffled, followed by a muffled
sob.
“Harper! Enough screwing around, already!” hollered Darren, who had somehow managed to slither his way back behind the officer. “Get out of there already and let’s talk this out. You and me.”
“No!” Harper yelled from inside. “Leave me alone!” She pressed her entire body against the door frame.
“Harper!” Darren reached around the officer and pounded on the door again.
“Sir, step aside and go back to where I told you to wait,” ordered Officer Moore.
“Stop yelling at her, you-you mean man,” admonished Regan from behind the locked door.
The officer’s ears perked up at hearing an unfamiliar voice. “Is there somebody else in there?”
“Yes,” answered Regan and Harper jointly.
Officer Moore spread his hands confused. “And who are you?” he yelled at the door.
“Greetings from inside, Officer Moore. I’m Regan Vanhorn.”
“Who?”
“Regan Vanhorn. I’m the librarian for the children’s room.”
“Of course you are,” mumbled Moore. He rubbed his weary eyes. “And why are you in there, Miss Vanhorn?”
“Yeah.” Darren nodded, standing over Moore’s shoulder. “I’d like to know the same thing.”
Moore twisted his body slightly towards Darren and clapped his hands. “Hey! I told you to stay over there. Now, go. Move it. Over there.”
“But…”
“Mr. Crane. I swear to…” The officer bit his bottom lip. “Would you just stand over there, already?”
“But I…”
“Don’t make me handcuff you to a table.”
Darren seethed but kept his cool; it would only take one slip-up to send his ass back to prison. “Whatever,” he grumbled and stepped away, although not nearly as far as the police officer had directed.
Officer Moore lowered his voice. “Harper, I would really like to speak to you.”
“I only want to speak to Mr. Abernathy,” said Harper.
“I’m sorry, who?” asked Officer Moore. He turned around, his eyes darting from Darren’s blank expression to Janice’s knowing scowl.
Unlikely Friends Page 6
