Regan Harris Box Set

by Kelly Wood

  “No. They obviously knew who you were. I didn’t want to bring you into our ongoing argument.”

  Anger surged through me. Another example of the imbalance in our relationship. Ben made a decision for the both of us without consulting me.

  “Instead you left me out in the cold, figuratively and literally. It felt like ramming into a brick wall when I came home that day. I never would’ve guessed there was a problem between us, but the joke’s on me.” By this point, I was standing again. My arms pierced the air, speeding up as I ranted more. “You left me with nothing. Nothing.”

  “You are overreacting. Calm down.”

  “Calm down? My clothes were in boxes in the lobby. The apartment was cleared out of all furniture, some of which was mine, by the way.” I poked his chest with my finger, enunciating my point. “In a matter of moments, I went from a college student to a homeless drop-out thanks to you.”

  “Why do you keep saying that?” he practically yelled back at me.

  “Because it’s true, you jerk. Don’t pretend like you don’t know.” Ben stood up, wrapping his hands around my upper arms. I didn’t want him this close to me. I started to pull away to continue my tirade, but reason won out. If I stopped moving, he would let me go sooner. I stood statue-still, but he didn’t release me.

  “Regan, I need you to take a deep breath and tell me what you are referring to. I didn’t leave you like that.”

  “But you admit you left me.”

  “I do. I’m sorry. It was childish and immature. I should’ve stood up to my father then, not two years later. I should’ve been a man and stood up for you, too. I didn’t. I can’t change that. But, I swear, I didn’t leave you with nothing.”

  I nodded, and he released me. Both of us took our seats on the step. A runner casually pointed to Ben; I nodded to let him know it was okay before he passed. As the morning continued, the boat activity increased, as did the number of runners and walkers using the marina. I put a little more space between us before continuing.

  “But, ya did,” I said, getting in the last word.

  I gave him a shortened version but included all the details. He leaned forward while listening to me, resting his elbows on his knees. His hands clasped between his knees. Surprise registered on his face a few times while I spoke. When I finished, the silenced stretched out.

  “Regan. I swear that wasn’t my intention.”

  “But it was still your intention to leave.” Ben blew out a sigh, shoulders slumped.

  “Yes. I had planned it where the only thing missing would’ve been me. Your scholarship, stipend, and living expenses were supposed to be taken care of until you finished school. You were supposed to have the choice to stay there. I know I’ve said it before, but I am truly sorry.”

  “Then how did it happen?” I asked. “I’m forgiving you. I’m just curious.”

  “I assume it was my father. He trumped my decisions.”

  I was tired of hearing his apologies and tired of the subject, but I couldn’t stop myself from asking more questions. “It’s over. Well, almost. Where did you go? And, you still haven’t explained the why, yet.”

  “I went to London. The company planned to expand overseas long before I met you, but the timeline moved up once I stopped performing to my father’s expectations.”

  “Did you want to go?” I asked.

  “Yes. No.” Ben blew out his breath in exasperation. He ran his fingers through his hair and looked out at the lake. “I wanted the opportunity, even after I met you. I wanted to ask you to join me, but I couldn’t ask that of you.”

  “I would’ve gone.”

  “That’s why I didn’t ask. What would you have done there? You wouldn’t have had any friends or family, work or school. I worked twenty-hour days most of the time. You would’ve been alone and miserable.”

  “And your best option was just to leave? Not even give me a say? I should’ve had a choice. You should’ve had the decency and respect to dump me face-to-face. Those are the things I can’t forgive you for. You were a coward. Maybe you still are.” I stood up again but didn’t pace. I crossed my arms in the breeze and watched the water, hoping it would soothe me.

  “I was a coward. It took me two more years to tell my dad no. Two years. Until then, I did what he wanted, when he wanted it.”

  “But not anymore?” I still kept my back to him, but I could feel his body heat against my back. He must have been a hair’s breadth away. I didn’t dare turn around.

  “Not anymore.” His hands once again rested on my upper arms. Gentler this time. Not holding me in place, but giving us a connection. “After two years, I walked away. I haven’t worked for him since.”

  “It’s quite the pattern you have.” Ben lightly squeezed my arms but didn’t reply to my comment. “Where did you go that time?”

  “To the beach. I sat on the water every day staring at the sea until I figured out my next move. It brought me back here.”

  “To Chicago?” His thumbs caressed my skin absentmindedly.

  “Yes. I think subconsciously I was looking for you.” Ben turned me around to face him, our bodies a whisper apart. His hand nudged my chin up until I was looking him in the eye. “It took me six months to work up the courage to walk into O’Kelly’s looking for you. I didn’t know if you had gone back to work there, but I thought Peter would at least know where to find you.”

  “Peter never told me you came looking for me.”

  “I didn’t make it ten steps inside the place before he saw me. He was carrying a case of beer to the bar. I thought maybe he didn’t know who I was because he hadn’t acknowledged me. Without even looking up, he said, ‘Too late, buddy, she’s gone.’ I tried to ask him some questions, but he made it clear that he wouldn’t tell me anything, so I left.”

  “Then fast forward a few years, and a girl walks into a bar.”

  “The girl.”

  Later, I would wonder if it was the dredging up of old history or just a small spark that still lingered. I don’t know why I didn’t stop him. Once again, I felt the pull. The magnet drawing me to him. Instantly, I was an addict and about to get a hit. I wanted him to kiss me. My body was screaming for it, but when his lips touched mine, only one thought remained.

  Gray.

  Chapter Seven

  I refused to let Ben walk me back to Peter’s or to put me in an Uber. I wanted my walk home to soak in my shame alone. I didn’t want to share it with anyone else. Instead of going to Peter’s, I headed in the direction of Lincoln Park.

  I honestly didn’t know if I should be feeling shame. I walked away from Gray, but I didn’t know if it meant forever, or for right now. Either way, kissing someone else probably isn’t in the acceptable category, yet. The kiss had barely begun before I ended it by pushing him away. Does that even count then?

  I was only on the edge of the park when I found the first bench and plopped down. I left Gray. Just walked away. Like Ben did to me. Talk about karma. I was heartbroken when Ben bailed on me. My crying spells lasted for two days before I turned into a walking zombie. It took six months before I felt close to myself again. It was one of the worst periods I have experienced in my life. And, I had done that to someone else. I didn’t know if I should be feeling shame over the kiss, but I definitely should over the abandonment.

  I didn’t even know why I did it. I had no intention to. I was fine. And then I wasn’t. I needed air. I needed space. I felt a weight pressing down on my chest that I tried to escape.

  I pulled my cell phone from my purse. The first night Ben was gone, I had slept with it in my hand. We had fought before, but he always called me at night afterward. I expected-no, I hoped-that night would be the same. I was wrong. The sun shining into the guest room had awoken me the next morning. I knew instantly that Ben had never tried to call, that it was really over. In some ways, waking up the next morning without hearing from him had been more painful than initially finding he was gone.

  And here I was,
acting no better. Hurting Gray in the same way I had been devastated. I didn’t know what would happen to us, but I did know I couldn’t let him go on wondering any longer.

  My hands shook as I scrolled through my phone to his contact. I touched the call icon before I had time to reconsider. My heart thumped against my chest while the call connected. One ring. Two. I held my breath. Three. The phone continued to ring for another minute before connecting me to voicemail. I hung up without leaving a message.

  I wished my heart to slow down its rapid pace, but it didn’t. I’d done this to myself. I wanted nothing more than to hear Gray’s voice and I couldn’t. I was a fool to think he would just answer the phone like nothing was wrong.

  I spent the day alone. Walking around Chicago, hiding at Peter’s, doing nothing important. The highlight of my day was when Peter announced he had cooked dinner. I would probably jump off my deathbed to eat his food. I didn’t jump this time, but I didn’t dither, either.

  Finally, I stood in front of O’Kelly’s. Yesterday’s hiding had given way to today’s working. The restaurant was released by the police. The cleaning crew had come and gone yesterday as well. I could see people around inside although it was barely nine in the morning. Peter expected today to be busy. The macabre public was wanting to visit the murder site. What place would be better for lunch?

  I headed inside. It looked the same, but with one difference. The staff had gotten much better looking. Jax and I were pretty, but nothing compared to the bartenders and servers now, busily straightening and stocking for the day.

  “Holy hot staff, Batman.”

  “What do you think?” Peter asked.

  “I think I’m a six swimming in a sea of tens right now.” I set my purse on the edge of the bar, taking a moment to look around.

  "It’s a lovely money-making cycle.”

  “Let me guess. Hot girls bring in men. Men bring in money. Single women flock to where the men are. The cycle continues.”

  “Yep. Marketing at its best. We were busy before, but now with this hubbub, it’ll be packed today.”

  Two girls set up the patio, by straightening chairs and wiping down the tables. Both blonde and thin. Another, this one brunette, checked table caddies for empty ketchup bottles. All of them looked straight out of a photo shoot for beautiful people with everyday jobs.

  The pub was located on the Chicago River with a beautiful view. Customers loved sitting out there with chilled glasses of wine, enjoying the weather and watching the boats move up and down the river. It was prime real estate in Chicago, especially since the patio was covered. It could stay open through the rain. The patio railing was full of overflowing flower boxes that enhanced the ambiance. All evidence of Peter’s green thumb. He lined the walls and pillars with outdoor wooden fencing giving the patio a feel of being at home in the backyard. When the burgers were grilling, it smelled like a cookout.

  The inside of the restaurant had wooden tables and minimal decor. The walls housed old photos of Anais and Patrick along with funny tin bar signs. My favorite one had a man fishing on it that said, “Show me your pole." I don't know why I found it funny, I just did. I looked for it every time I was here.

  The bar stretched the length of one wall. There were flat screen TV’s mounted above with rows and rows of liquor bottles underneath. Peter was standing behind the bar, clearly in the way of the opening bartender, but he was oblivious. He was already lost again in his inventory sheets.

  "Where would you like me to start?”

  Before Peter could answer me two men wearing suits walked in, interrupting us. I was about to tell them we were not open yet, but I saw the flash of their badges first.

  "Mr. Kelly? I'm Detective . . ." I zoned out. I was trying to place his face. I knew I had met him, but I didn’t know him. I stared at him, but nothing came to me. His voice had an Irish lilt to it. I was sitting down and looking up at him, so he seemed taller than he probably truly was. Definitely not as tall as Gray, probably more Ben’s height. Height aside, the dude was HOT! Like someone-should-pee-on-him-because-he-was-on-fire hot. His muscles created small bulges through his suit. I should ask him if he does the yearly Chicago PD calendar. Jax would love . . . The memory solidified, and I knew exactly where I had seen him before. Two nights ago, he and Jax had their heads bent together at the Dark Horse, only talking to each other. He said his name during the introductions, but it slipped my mind now. I wondered if he knew the connection between Jax and O’Kelly’s. What were the odds?

  Thank goodness, he was focused on Peter, so he was unaware of my staring. He hadn’t glanced my way once. I closed my mouth and tried to pay attention.

  "And you are . . ?” He turned to me. A frown marred his face for a fleeting moment before realization sunk in.

  "You don’t recall?” I asked.

  “Do you always answer a question with a question?” Now, he faced me fully.

  “Do you?” I inquired.

  “I don’t think I will ever forget you. You probably aren’t the first woman to want to pour a beer on Ben, but you’re the first I’ve gotten to witness doing it. Regan, correct?”

  "Regan Harris. I haven't had my morning coffee yet so, please, forgive me," I said as I extended my hand. His hand was rough to the touch. A man’s hand.

  "The detectives are here to ask some more questions,” Peter explained to me before turning back to them. “Let’s all go into the banquet room for some privacy.”

  “Regan, why don't you join us?" the detective said.

  “But, I wasn’t even here!” Nerves made my hands shake. Not out of fear to be questioned by a detective. I just tended to buck authority figures. I knew my mouth would get me into trouble.

  “That wasn’t a request.”

  I trudged along behind Peter and the two detectives. The second one had yet to speak a word. I bet he usually let Detective Hot-pants distract the interviewees while he nosed around unobserved. It’d be a good ploy. One I would use. Point to the detectives.

  Once we settled into the private dining room, the two men formally introduced themselves to me. Me, being me, didn’t pay attention to their names. I think I had been programmed after years of bartending to not remember. I could remember what a person drank, if they were a good tipper, especially if they were a bad tipper, their tempers, their favorite jokes and whether or not I needed to stay out of groping range, but never a name. Not until the person became a regular. It was a terrible habit to have formed, and one I had unsuccessfully tried to break. I brought my focus back to my surroundings. I didn’t know why I had been asked to join the conversation, but I was a nosy person, so I decided not to look a gift horse in the mouth.

  "Peter, tell us again about the night of the murder," Number Two started.

  "Business-wise, it was just a normal Wednesday. We had a good steady night with customers. I stayed out on the floor while Anya finished up some paperwork. It was supposed to be her night off, but she came in to close for me." Sadness washed over Peter, his face falling at the thought of his friend being killed.

  "Did you ask Anya specifically to work for you?" Two asked.

  "She volunteered. I needed to leave right at closing to pick up a friend from O'Hare, so Anya stayed, dropped the deposit and finished the closing paperwork."

  "So, you were the last person to see her alive?”

  “Isn’t that unanswerable?” I piped up. Number Two gave me a dirty look. His face was scrunchy naturally, like one of those wrinkly dogs. With his scowl, the folds come in closer together. “I mean, come on, it would take a psychic to know if she saw anyone between his leaving and her murderer showing up.”

  The three men stared at me but didn’t speak. “Just saying.” I shrugged my shoulders and sat back in my chair.

  "To answer, maybe. Anya was counting the money to deposit when I left. It was about 2 a.m. My friend's flight was landing at 2:30 so I needed to head out." Peter’s hands were clasped on the table in front of him. He was giving off a casual
attentiveness, but it wasn’t fooling me. He was sitting a little too straight. Peter liked to slouch. He sat on the edge of chairs, ready to pour onto the floor. Now, his butt was firmly planted, his feet were flat in front of him. He was nervous. Or lying. But what about?

  "Technically, he wasn't the last person to see her alive." What? Mouth, why were you talking?

  "And how do you know that, Ms. Harris? Were you the last one to see her alive?" Number Two asked.

  Why couldn’t I ever keep my mouth shut? Number One turned his eyes toward me. I could see what kept Jax so enthralled. His eyes were a clear blue-green. The same color as tropical waters. I started fanning myself with my hand. I am acting a fool was all I could think. Fanning myself, spouting off nonsense, sweating, I may as well have pronounced my guilt. How did people live lives of crime? I hadn’t even done anything wrong, and I wanted to confess to something.

  I stuttered out an explanation for my comments. "Well, I, ah, the killer obviously saw her alive last. At least, at first, anyway. Then, he probably saw her dead, too."

  "Why did you say ‘he’? Why not ‘she’?”

  “No! Wait, where? You know what? I’m just going to sit here and keep quiet. I know nothing. Just ignore me. I’m not even here.” I mimed zipping my lips to the detectives. Yes, like an eight-year-old.

  Humor flashed in Number One’s eyes. He was actually finding pleasure in my discomfort. "According to interviews that were done yesterday, Ms. Burrows took your job, which I see you conveniently now have back. That sounds like motive. I also noticed you out front yesterday. Murderers like to watch the action. He or she can feel satisfaction and power over the body discovery.”

  Chapter Eight

  When stated together, those small pieces sounded convincing. Numbers One and Two asked me to leave the room, their fun at my expense was over. I took my time, hoping to overhear a tidbit, but neither spoke until I had left. I hurried to the office, hoping the door was open. Peter hadn’t issued me a key yet, but sometimes, he left the door propped open while the restaurant was closed so he could move between the office and the restaurant freely.