Asatru

by Ariana Kenny

  Chapter 6: Sam

  When I made the call I knew I shouldn't have. Not really. I may have tried to sell Sabian on staying away from Rachael for his own good, seeing as he was both victim and witness. We would have had a hard enough time even as it was asking him to take the stand against Rachael if we needed him. If. That word.

  I understood, I really did, that the law was the law. I had to let it take it's course, but at the same time I was wishing, willing her off the hook.

  I saw violence all the time. But violence like this didn't usually accompany someone like Rachael.

  It didn't add up, and one of the first things we were taught was Ocams Razor. The most probable explanation was the likeliest. I had been taught to seek it out but I couldn't find it here. Rachael was obviously a victim here. I understood after spending time with her yesterday, why James had deleted the footage. Why he sabotaged the case. I wondered if he had sat on the end of his bed one day making calls like I had done today. Calling Sabian, calling Community Services for background reports on the kid. If I wasn't careful, I would be the one in trouble.

  I tried to shake my head out of the thick fog of my thoughts and rose off the end of my bed. I stretched out before grabbing extra socks from the dresser drawer. I already had the sweat pants and shirt on, I may as well go for a run. After leaving Rachael at her place I had been feeling edgy, unfocussed. I had spent the night alternating between staring at the ceiling and tossing all night. A run might do me a disservice after having worked out, even if it was only a home based weight set, but I still couldn't seem to relax enough to think about sleep. I really needed the sleep tonight. Tomorrow was James' official last day, and I was tagging another team while I waited for someone to transfer in and take his place as my partner.

  I left my two bedroom unit, strapping the mp3 player to my upper arm. At least the apartment was thankfully looking more organised than my head felt at the moment. Thanks to my sister organizing a cleaner to come around. I had of course cleaned up before the cleaner arrived-some kind of latent guilt for not doing it myself. I was either not there enough to make any kind of mess, or too tired to bother cleaning up after myself. Neither particularly appealed to me.

  I started straight in to a run, rather than warm up, but the people on the street made it hard to keep my pace up until I hit the park. I hoped the physical activity was going to help me clear my mind, but all it seemed to do was intensify my train of thought.

  James at least had a wife who cared about him enough to forgive his variable work hours and habits. I knew it wasn't anything strange, but I had found that in the past for myself, having a relationship given my choice in career wasn't the easiest of things to achieve.

  I was going to miss James. He always had some kind of revelation or understanding to share with me when I was feeling less than grounded. Or at least a comfortable silence that indicated he understood, what I was experiencing wasn't unusual.

  I ran harder. I knew I had passed the cardio level I needed but I hadn't reached my goal yet.

  This was an unusual case. It finished off the work James and I had been doing on the murder-thefts we had been chasing, coordinated by Penn. The pressure had been on to solve the case, let the upper level socialites congregate in peace, and now the pressure from outside was off, I was experiencing something very different.

  As I ran her face bounced in my mind. Rachael's smile when she saw me. Her face do earnest, so serious when the psych was explaining what the processes were for the deep relaxation treatment. For the hypnotism. The look of terror on her face when the psych tried to inject her with a sedative. She hadn't attacked, hadn't flipped out. If I hadn't stopped things, she would have likely passed out before anything else.

  A cramp caught my thigh, and I nearly hit the gravel. Two joggers behind me barely missed colliding into me.

  I massaged the cramp and managed to get myself to the bench just ahead of me. I rested there, breathing sharply until my leg felt better. The pain returned when I tried to stand, but to a lesser amount. I knew running wasn't an option, so I did my best to walk back to my flat.

  When Rachael had walked back into the office, I had been so sure we were near those answers I wanted. She was compliant, even asked me to come in with her. Her initial resistance to the techniques used by the Psychiatrist had been put down to nerves. After relaxation exercises and another 30 minutes of failed attempts, the psychiatrist offered a drug. After hesitating, Rachael had succumbed to the argument that this was the fastest way to get a response. After the tourniquet was applied, it had started. Rachael started breathing heavily, started shaking. She trembled so much the psych had had difficulty administering the needle. As she tried to calm herself, un-tense her muscles and stop the tears I decided it wasn't worth it. Stopped everything. I probably shouldn't have, but I couldn't help it.

  By the time I made it home I was finally feeling like I was unwinding.

  I headed straight for a hot shower to help my leg stretch out.

  In the car on the way home she had said something that was plaguing me.

  "I have this terrible feeling about Jonah. I know I can’t see him, but can you check on him?" She had asked me.

  I had stuck with my guns and said no, but since then had had this sinking feeling... It had kept me awake most of the night. She hadn't even put up a protest when I said I couldn't interfere. Just nodded and calmed.

  I had called Sabian on the assumption that separating him from the situation might make it simpler for me.

  After the shower, I shaved. I liked to keep clean shaven most times. I pulled back my long dark hair wondering if I should cut it. As if my hair being long somehow made me less focused.

  I spent the day reading, did the usual run around chores I would do on my days off and did some net research before I decided it might be time to get dinner. So I called for takeout and found my pyjamas just in time for my order of Thai food to arrive. I sat watching TV, something mindless to help me detach while I ate. Once the first set of commercials interrupted the program I knew distracting myself this way wasn't the solution. I abandoned the dish I was attempting to eat with great difficulty and sat back on the couch. I made an exasperated sound and covered my eyes.

  The worst part had been in the car on the way back to her place. First she had just stared out the window. I hadn't even noticed she was crying.

  When I asked if she would be alright I had hated the ridiculous sound of the words. When I asked if there was anyone I could call for her I could have thrown myself out of the car. The automatic training had kicked in, but the fact I asked a client with no memory of who she was, no family friends or support if I could call someone for her....well that wasn't even a rookie mistake. I didn’t know what that was. Then she looked at me, red eyed, with wet cheeks and laughed. Actually laughed. Not cruelly at my stupidity, which I would have forgiven her for in a heartbeat.

  "You're really kind. You know that. Thanks, but I'll be fine."

  "You sure? I don't want to let you go if you're going to be upset like this. I have some counselling numbers..." I had started rummaging through pockets and car hiding spaces when she stayed my hand with hers.

  "I will be fine. It's just a lot and I feel so stupid."

  "Why on earth would you feel that?" I couldn't imagine this woman, who had come so far feeling stupid of all things. She was a survivor, a force of nature all to her own. At least she had stopped crying.

  "I just gave Sabian this huge speech about how I was going to do what felt right, that it didn’t matter who I was, I was going to move on anyway and here I am.." I think that was the point that hooked me. She smiled and opened the door of the stationary car to go to her apartment. Sabian’s apartment. Or his friends anyway.

  “Wait.” I had called. For what, I wasn’t sure.

  “I'll be fine. Really. Maybe I just need to sleep. It's been a big day." With that I had watched her skirt around the car and almost reach the door before sh
e looked sideways at me still sitting in the car. When she saw me still parked in the no stopping zone staring after her she had looked back at me, giving a curious smile and I had waved like a high school kid. I had scarcely been able to avoid thinking about her all day.

  The now familiar heartburn clenched my chest. I had impressed myself by not calling her all day. Now it was night time, nearly 24 hours later, I wasn't feeling so sturdy in my resolve. After all a whole day was a long time. It wasn't a sign of weakness. Not after so long. I wondered what she did all day. I had said I wanted to keep an eye on her. Maybe checking in would give me more information to go on.

  I was making excuses. I just wanted to see her. Still she was a killer. In defense or not it was suspicious. James was right. I had seen some adrenaline fueled moments over the years, either out of fear or drug induced psychosis. Sometimes even without the drug part. There were a lot of crazed idiots out there. So many miserable and lonely ones too. Ready to hurt themselves, kill themselves over the small to the immense. Kill themselves.

  It occurred to me all at once that I had left her upset. She was more lost than ever, with no one other than a random grateful guy she met at a party to help her. Listen to her. And I had warned him off. Shit. I better call to make sure see was alright. If she answered I would check she sounded ok. Then let this whole thing go. Give the file the lost at the bottom of the pike treatment and let a rookie pick up on it later.

  Halfway through dialing I hung up. Even speaking to her wasn't really necessary. If she picked up, I would know she was alive, and that was all I was checking. Jeez. I was running on a whole wrong track at the moment. Better get the call over and done with.

  I dialed without letting hesitation get the better of me again. The sound of the phone being disconnected met my ears.

  Something was wrong.

  I took my coat and stuffed my gun and badge into a pocket, and rushed out the door. The place was only 10 minutes away by car. I screeched to a halt and rushed past the doorman, flashing my badge. I knocked on the door and a relaxed looking Rachael opened it, a half glass of red wine in her hand.

  “Sam?” She looked casually comfortable in an oversized t-shirt and black shorts.

  “Rachael. You're alright.” I stammered.

  “Of course. Are you ok?” She wore a look of concern for me. And why wouldn’t she? I had turned up unannounced, looking harassed with a gun on her doorstep. I pocketed the gun and tried to look calm and undisturbed.

  “Yeah. I tried to call, but your phone was disconnected.”

  “Huh.” She uttered and abandoned the door to check the phone on the counter. She replaced the handset then checked for a dial tone.

  “I left the phone off hook. Must have not put it down properly when I spoke with Sabian. That was this morning. Hope no one else was trying to call.” She turned back to face me as I hovered in the doorway. “You sure you're OK?” her concern was now half marked with amusement.

  “Yeah. Why?” I said, still trying to regain my cool, calm and collected self.

  “Nice pajamas.” Rachael kept grinning and I balked at myself.

  When she finally came back to the door and asked me in I was relieved and slunk into the apartment.

  She poured me a glass of wine in the kitchen, and offered it to me. I took it, but said something by way of a disclaimer to the effect of “I’m not really supposed to drink on duty.”

  Rachael pulled me up on that of course. “You don't look like you're on duty unless the dress code has changed.” While I had taken a sip she had looked at me inquiringly before speaking again.

  “So why did you call?”

  “What?” I asked.

  “You called?” She repeated for me. “Or tried.”

  “Oh. I just wanted to check in on you. No news sorry.”

  “That's ok.” She resigned and made herself comfortable on the couch.

  “You look a lot more together than yesterday.” I observed.

  Rachael nodded. “I spent the day in bed moping, then eventually decided to get up, have a shower, and do something worthwhile. So that's when I opened this bottle.” She held the glass up in jest toast. I couldn't help but smile. I sat on the other end of the couch.

  “At least you got some sleep in.” I said taking a seat at the other end of the couch she was on. I took a large gulp of wine and put the glass on the table. I usually hated red wine, but tonight it didn’t seem so bad.

  “Oh I didn't sleep. I stayed in bed, but I didn't sleep.” She clarified for me. I knew how that felt. The sleep part anyway.

  “So what’s with you then. Running to my rescue. I thought you were supposed to be trying to put me away?” She had asked so bluntly it almost caught me off foot.

  “I’m not supposed to put victims away.”

  “Is that what I am? A victim?”

  “You don’t think so?”

  “Have you ever killed someone?”

  “Why do you ask?”

  “I wonder what it feels like to remember doing such a thing.” I hate not remembering, but I’m trying to let that go.

  “I’ve killed two people. I can let it go, because it was them or me, and I knew I was right.”

  “Maybe that’s it then. I can let it go because I know I was in the right.”

  “Of all the things you can let go of, killing someone is probably a good place to start.”

  “Yeah but it’s strange. I think because I can’t remember so much else, that I want to hold on to this. What I have done, good or bad, is the only thing people can talk about, show me footage of. My life is this great big mystery and it feels like this is the only thing that bridges the gaping hole that’s left here.”

  “I understand.” I extended.

  Immediately she gave e a cynical look. “You do, do you?”

  “Yeah. I do.” My dad had Alzheimer’s. I know it’s not the same thing, but watching his memory fade, seeing how hard he tried to hold on to any detail, even up until the end…. It really opened my eyes, not in a good way, but in a way it helps me understand. Better remember something than nothing. Better hold on to any link you can, no matter how unpleasant if it might help you get back something else. Some other string of thought.”

  “What happened at the end?”

  “He killed himself actually. He forgot my sister’s name one visit. He said that was it. Didn’t want to get any worse, so took a long walk off the short rooftop.” I took another gulp of wine and looked back at her. No weakness from me.

  “I’m so sorry.” She said.

  “Me too. But he knew what he was doing. He did what he did and I accept that.” I was glad I could be honest with her. There had been lots of judgmental people who were horrified at what he had done. But then, they hadn’t had to live his life, had they? My mother had passed 10 years ago in a car accident and Laura and I were all grown up, so it wasn’t like he was leaving anyone in the lurch. I missed him, but at the same time, I understood. He had always been honest with us, and being honest with others was important to me. I never had the difficulty accepting feedback my supervisors gave out like some of the other Cadets, trainees or officers. I felt it made me strong, but I knew it wasn’t always easy to take.

  “When?” Rachael asked after a long silence.

  “Last year.” Another long pause followed my response.

  She took a swig from her glass to drain it and a deep breath in before she spoke which alerted me to her hesitation. “I wanted to say, I wish I hadn’t ….cried on you…yesterday. I was a bit ...”

  “Don’t worry about it. You had a lot pinned on the Psychiatrist. But you have a week to wait to practice those exercises you were given.” I knew she wouldn’t do them. The look on her face at the office when she was reminded to practice them. Bit like telling someone to build a bridge with string.

  “A whole week. Lucky me.” She replied sarcastically.

  “Better that than go back and have a repeat. I thought yo
u were going to burst a blood vessel.”

  “It was – intense. I just don’t like being held down. I don’t like needles either. That makes me worry.” She resumed her stoic stare into her glass.

  “About why, what happened to give you that kind of reaction.” She nodded. “I don’t think this is one of those situations where you can wish something to the surface. If you push too hard, I think it might be worse.”

  “Did you read my file?” She sat back and stared at me in a way I knew she was scanning my integrity.

  “I did.” I answered honestly.

  “What do you think happened?” She put forward, her stare softening with expectation.

  “I think whoever took you, scared the shit out of you. I think you had to fight to get yourself out and it was too much to take in. Your brain re-wired and when those guys took everyone hostage you went back into coping mode. It’s confusing, upsetting.” She nodded as if my answer simply re-confirmed what she knew to be true. In all honesty, I hadn’t offered anything new to her.

  “But why am I not a missing person. I get Jonah …John … I get that he was so upset he may not have known who I was, but why hasn’t anyone missed me?” There was such a abandonment in her voice. Maybe she was afraid she had no life to remember either. She confirmed that for me when she spoke next. “I can grasp the idea of spaces in my memory, of me going into some kind of lethal attack mode…But no one missing me. That’s horrible. No one knows I’m missing for over a month now.”

  I tried to recall something useful, something similar from work I could give as a positive example. “I remember reading about a type of disorder where people forget everything about who they were and just up and start a new life. Not because of anything negative, just because…. Maybe the shrink can shed some more light on what’s happened after a few meetings.” I hoped so. “Maybe you were a loner.” I added.

  “You mean alone.” She reverberated listlessly.

  “Maybe you were a special ops agent on a secret mission.” I teased to lighten the situation. She rewarded me by smiling lazily back at me and giving me an eye roll.

  She chuckled to herself before joining in the joke. “Or a spy…. Yes espionage, definitely. Like Mata Hari or something…. See how can I remember Mata Hari, and not other things.” She asked out loud.

  “Give it time.” I reassured. “Try less hard. There will be something that triggers you. Something other than fear or violence.”

  “I hope so. But what do I do about the rest of my life in the meantime…. A place to live, a job…. A last name…ID. Do I just wait?” She sighed and refilled her glass and mine.

  “I guess you can do anything you want to do. We should all be that lucky.” I looked her over wondering where to help her start.

  “I have an appointment with the new Social Worker in the morning. That’s as good a place as any to start with.” I took up my glass as she leaned into the couch and stared at the television.

  “This is one of the best movies ever made.” I announced to change the subject.

  “Really? The birds don’t even look real in some scenes.” Rachael regarded the screen with renewed interest. “I liked the last one. Rearview Mirror.”

  “Hitchcock. Great story teller.” I relaxed back into the couch more and put my feet up on the coffee table. I watched her face take in the screen quietly, thoughtfully. I shouldn’t be here.