The Last Time She Saw Him

by Jane Haseldine

“Physically, Logan and Will are fine. Logan got a few scrapes. But I’m still worried what happened may pay a toll of them eventually.”

  “They’ve got counseling for trauma survivors. Will is still so young, but it might be good for you and Logan.”

  “I’ll talk to Logan and see how he feels. But for me, I think I’ve got to figure out my own things. No one else can give me answers.”

  The on-call doctor breezes into the room and assesses my chart through a pair of thick Coke-bottle glasses.

  “Three broken fingers, a broken wrist, and four broken knuckles on your left hand. You’re right-handed?” the doctor asks.

  “Yes.”

  The doctor pushes his glasses down the bridge of his nose and looks back at me with keen interest, like I’m some sort of curious specimen he’s examining under a microscope.

  “I heard about what happened to you. You’re a lucky woman,” he remarks.

  “That’s the first time anyone’s ever said that to me.”

  The doctor adjusts his glasses back in place and returns to my chart. “I see no traces of acute respiratory distress syndrome from the near drowning. Besides the hand, there’s just a cracked rib, some lacerations to your ankles, and three stitches to sew up the gash in your lip. You’re fine to be discharged.”

  I snatch the discharge sheet from the doctor, and he beats a slow retreat out of the room.

  “Thanks for coming back to the hospital and for staying with me all night. You didn’t have to do that. I didn’t want David to bring the kids here.”

  “No problem. I didn’t want you to be alone.”

  I gather up my scant belongings, which Navarro brought me from home. As we exit the hospital to the parking garage, I push away the memories of last night and instead cherish the thought of seeing my children.

  “Your chariot awaits, madam,” Navarro says and opens the passenger-side door of his Crown Victoria.

  I slide in and impatiently tap my fingers against the dashboard. Before Navarro starts the car, he turns and a look of worry knits across his brow.

  “Are you all right? Really?” he asks. “You’ve been through a lot.”

  “I’m fine. Honest to God.”

  “Just take your time and be sure you’re really okay. And tell me if you’re not.”

  “I will. What did you track down on Parker?”

  “I got some answers, but you’re not going to like them,” Navarro says and cruises onto the freeway ramp. “Parker’s alibi panned out. I talked to the owner of the bar and he vouched for Parker. I also got a copy of the police report that was filed over the dust-up between the bar owner’s son and some other guy, and it lists Parker as being at the bar right after Ben got snatched. The bar owner said Parker hung out with him after the fight and stayed there until around two a.m.”

  “Damn. That’s what I was afraid of. What about the van Parker claimed he saw?”

  “I checked. The only thing I could trace was a report filed about a van that was torched near a field by the Detroit Metropolitan Airport.”

  “That could be anything.”

  “Hold on. At the time, the cops found a little boy’s pajama shirt in the field near the burned-out van. The description of the shirt matches what your brother had on when he was abducted.”

  “Incredible Hulk. I remember his pajamas. Jesus. That’s something. What about plates?”

  “Burned to a crisp. So was the VIN on the vehicle. I’m sorry, Julia.”

  “All these years, I just want to know what happened, and with Parker, this is as close as I ever got.”

  “It’s not a dead end. We’ve got a partial description from Parker about the guy in the van who came after Ben when he tried to escape.”

  “The man with the scar like a crescent moon who was as big as a mountain.”

  “And the Indian arrowhead. Parker said the guy looked like he might have been Indian,” Navarro says. “When things settle down for you, I can help you start looking for your brother again. We’ve got some fresh leads.”

  “From thirty years ago. Too much time may have passed. When I visited Cahill in jail, he told me something about time being my own personal prison. Maybe he was right.”

  “The guy’s a fruitcake. I wouldn’t put too much stock into what that wacko religious nut job thinks.”

  “Has Parker been released?”

  “Yes. We had nothing to hold him on anymore. His uncle confessed to killing his sick wife to put her out of her misery, so that explains the bones we found under his hunting camp. But Parker isn’t out of your life yet. He’s pressing charges against you for clocking him in the privates.”

  “He’s lucky that’s all I did. If he really saw Ben that night and didn’t do anything to help him, Parker’s lucky I didn’t kill him.”

  “Easy there,” Navarro answers. “I guess I owe you an apology. You were right. You believed all along Parker didn’t kidnap Will, but I wouldn’t listen. It’s funny how two cases that seemed so connected weren’t intertwined after all,” Navarro says.

  “Synchronicity.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “A bunch of high-minded, hoped-for philosophy that doesn’t really mean anything. Sometimes life hits us so hard, we want to believe there’s a deeper meaning in something when there isn’t.”

  “Just a series of random coincidences,” Navarro says.

  “But there weren’t any coincidences in this case. It was all planned. Alice had Leslie plant that arrowhead under Will’s crib so we’d think the two kidnappings were related and she added all the background about Ben’s abduction in the letters she sent to Cahill to throw us off.”

  “What about the phone call? You said someone called with a warning right before Will was abducted. The caller told you to get out and that someone was coming back for you.”

  “Right,” I answer and my mind drifts back to the Mary Jane candy I found in Logan’s room. “Alice didn’t say anything about that call. But obviously she orchestrated it as part of her plan to make me think Will’s kidnapping was linked to Ben.”

  “Maybe. But you don’t know for sure.”

  “I guess I never will,” I say and then pause for a beat, deciding whether or not to share what happened in the shack with Navarro.

  “What’s on your mind?” Navarro asks.

  Decision made. “Something happened when Alice tried to drown me.”

  “You going to tell me?”

  “It’s just . . . I’m not sure if it was real.”

  “Come on, Gooden. Spill it.”

  “It was like a dream. I saw my brother, and all these images came together, the past, sights and smells and memories from my childhood. And they intertwined with the present, like the knitting needle on the table I used to take down Alice. Ben told me he’d leave something on the table for me to fight her, to fight the bullies and to cut a hole through the darkness.”

  “Maybe you saw the knitting needle before Alice tried to kill you and it was in your subconscious already.”

  “Probably. Ben also told me about the man with the scar.”

  “Okay. Did he tell you who he was? That would solve everything.”

  “No. God, I wish I hadn’t mentioned this.”

  “Come on, Julia. I was just kidding. I’m glad you told me. I’m not sure if I believe in the afterlife theory, but I like to keep my options open, just in case, you know? My nana took me to Catholic Mass until I was eighteen, so hopefully I’ll earn a pass card if it turns out all this is true.”

  Navarro reaches across the console and squeezes my hand. His touch feels warm, innocent, and comforting, so I accept his act of affection without a twinge of guilt.

  “Before I went to your house last night, I made a pit stop to see your sister at Beckerus’s place,” Navarro says.

  “You did? How did that go?”

  “Let’s just say she won’t be bothering you anymore. I warned Sarah and her boyfriend the cops would be keeping an eye on them, and if they d
ecide to go back to Florida, we’ve got eyes down there too.”

  “You didn’t have to do that, but thank you.”

  “Glad to help get her out of your life,” he answers.

  “That’s one person I don’t think will ever change.”

  “Things that happen when you’re a kid can stay with you and turn a person bad. I keep remembering that Leslie. She was like some crazed, violent Lolita. I checked her juvenile record. For a seventeen-year-old, she had worked up quite a rap sheet, shoplifting, lighting a neighborhood cat on fire, and drug possession. Her mom had been a prostitute and was killed by one of her johns. Then she wound up with Alice. The kid didn’t have much of a chance.”

  “What about Alice? Did you find anything on her?”

  “She’d never been arrested, but she’d been in and out of mental hospitals since she was a kid. She and Leslie’s mom were taken away from their mother by Social Services when they were little. Apparently, their mother had some mental problems of her own. She was a religious zealot, peppered in with a whole lot of crazy, and would lock her daughters in the basement for days on end with just their Bible if she thought they had done something wrong. According to the hospital records, a neighbor saw Alice staring up from a basement window one day, naked and crying with a big black eye, so the neighbor called the cops. I’d almost feel sorry for her if she hadn’t been trying to kill you and your children.”

  “My brother told me sometimes the dark chooses us before we’re born, and other times, we choose it because of the hand we’re dealt in this life. Either way, it’s a choice, and it’s up to us to make the right one.”

  “That’s some heavy thinking for a little kid.”

  Navarro blasts his horn as we approach a traffic jam.

  “Come on,” he yells and then turns on his police siren as he navigates around the bottleneck of cars. “I’ve got to get you home to your kids.”

  Navarro flicks on the car radio and sets the dial to a local AM news station.

  “We’ve got the former Reverend Casey Cahill coming up next to reveal how he helped police crack the missing toddler case. Cahill claims it was a revelation that led to his single-handed discovery that a fanatical member of his former congregation was the kidnapper,” the announcer says. “Call in and tell us whether you think the former Rock ’n’ Roll Jesus of the Motor City should be released by the parole board in light of his help that brought a little boy home.”

  Navarro shuts the radio off with a quick snap of his wrist. “Give me a break. You know, I put my vacation on hold to work this case. I rebooked my ticket for next week.”

  “Where are you going?” I ask.

  “The Jersey Shore. I can cancel if you need me to. I’m not sure what’s going on with you and David, but I figured you might need someone around.”

  “That’s a generous offer, but go on your vacation.”

  “You and the boys could come along. A change of scene might be good for you all. I could check the hotel where I’m staying to see if they have an extra room. What do you think?”

  I stare back at Navarro and wonder what my life would have been like if we’d stayed together. But then there would be no Logan and Will, and no matter the potential outcome of my situation with David, the boys are the best thing that came out of my marriage and the best thing in my life. And whatever choices I make going forward, their interests have to come first.

  “I can’t,” I finally answer.

  The dance between Navarro and I ends as we pull into my driveway. I wait a moment before I get out of the car and take in the scene. My house looks absolutely perfect. Logan races his orange bike across the lawn, and David sits on the front porch swing cuddling Will in his arms.

  I turn to Navarro one last time to settle things. “Thank you for everything. If you hadn’t shown up last night, I don’t know what would’ve happened.”

  “I’m not sure about that. Something tells me you would’ve found a way to save Logan and Will even if I hadn’t been there.”

  “No. You saved their lives. I owe you. More than you will ever know. You’re a good man and a good friend.”

  I lean over the console and give Navarro a kiss on the cheek.

  “I still care about you, Julia. I always will. But you know that,” Navarro says as he looks over to David. “I just want you to be happy, you know. Whatever that is.”

  “I know. See you around, my friend.”

  Logan spots me exiting the car and tosses his bike to the ground. He tears across the yard, his arms and legs flying in every direction as he approaches.

  “Mom,” he yells and embraces me so hard, I almost fall over.

  “Hi, sweet boy,” I answer and kiss his head.

  David sprints over to us, and I grab Will out of his arms. I bury my nose in my youngest son’s hair and breathe in until I feel happily intoxicated.

  “Mama,” Will cries and rests his head against my chest.

  “I’ve been trying to keep Will up until you got home,” David says. “He’s exhausted and ready for a nap, but I know how much he’s missing his mom.”

  As if on cue, Will opens up his little mouth and lets out a cavernous yawn.

  “He’s got another tooth coming in,” I say, beaming as though Will just accomplished something extraordinary. “I’ll go in and put him to sleep. I’ll be right back.”

  Inside the house are the signs of everyday life, the framed picture of David and the boys at the lake, a stack of dirty dishes left in the sink, and Logan’s baseball glove and sneakers lying in a heap by the door. All things so simple and mundane, but right now, they are absolutely wonderful.

  Will’s eyes begin to flutter, and I sit with him in the white rocking chair in his room. I am unable to let him go, even when his breathing becomes heavy and I know he is asleep.

  There’s a tiny tap on the door, and Logan peeks his head inside. I place Will in his crib and cover him with a plush white blanket.

  I stand at Will’s doorway for a moment, and then turn my attention to Logan. I grab his hand, and we retreat into his room, where he has spread all the contents from his treasure box across his bed.

  “Taking stock of your loot there, kid?” I ask.

  Logan gives me a crooked grin.

  “Are you all right, Mom? You’re looking at me kind of funny.”

  “You just reminded me of my brother Ben for a minute.”

  Logan picks up his magnifying glass and begins to study one of his prized rocks from the lake. I sit down on the bed next to him, amazed at how a child can experience a horror so unimaginable but still be able to retain his wonder and imagination, believing the world is still good despite the evil he now knows really exists.

  “How are you doing?” I ask.

  Logan grunts in response, still examining his rock.

  “This is important. Look at me,” I say.

  Logan drops the rock and magnifying glass and meets my gaze.

  “What happened last night was horrible. It was worse than horrible. You saw and had to endure a situation no child should ever have to experience. I need to know if you’re all right. It’s okay if you’re not. Just tell me. There are people you can talk to, and sometimes that’s a really good thing.”

  “I’m fine. Really,” Logan says.

  I exhale deeply and run my fingers through his shiny dark hair.

  “You’re incredibly brave. I’m proud of you. But don’t ever risk your life for me again. Got it?”

  Logan shakes his head.

  “I love you. I promised I would protect you and Will.”

  Logan walks over to his dresser and begins to load up his new backpack with pencils and a notebook. And then I remember. Tomorrow is the first day of school. With all that happened, I forgot. But somehow Logan didn’t.

  “Don’t worry about starting school tomorrow. It’s too soon. You should take some time. I’ll call the principal and let him know. He’ll understand.”

  “I want to go to school tomorrow
.”

  “Okay. But if you change your mind, that’s all right.”

  “Is it okay if I go outside to play for a while? I want to hang out in my tree house by myself.”

  “Of course,” I answer and give Logan one last mighty hug.

  Logan dashes outside to play, and I look for David. I find him standing guard by the window, keeping careful watch as Logan runs across the yard to his tree house.

  “It’s hard to keep the kids out of sight for a second now. You too,” David says.

  “What are you talking about?” I ask.

  “Jesus Christ, Julia. You scared the hell out of me,” David says. He grabs my face with both his hands and kisses me like it’s the last chance he’ll ever get.

  “I’m fine,” I answer, feeling startled by David’s unexpected embrace.

  The buzz of the house phone interrupts our reunion as the whine of my city editor’s voice starts to drone on in the background. I lean over to the answering machine and turn the volume down to zero.

  “I figured you wouldn’t want to answer that. Primo has been calling all day. He wants you to call him back as soon as possible. He said something about an exclusive on your story. He promised it will go on the front page.”

  “I’m sure he did. I’ve been thinking hard about this, and I decided I’m not going back to the paper.”

  “You shouldn’t make any kind of decisions yet. But if you don’t want to go back to work right away, we’d be fine on my salary. Maybe it’s time for a career change for you. You’d be so good in public relations. I could make some calls.”

  “Let me rephrase that. I’m not going to work for Primo. I’m going to ask Bill for my old job back. Granted, it’s a smaller daily and I may wind up with a pay cut.”

  “If that’s what you want to do, I’d support it. We don’t have to talk about everything right now, but with all that’s happened, I want you and the kids back in Rochester Hills. I want you to come home. I want us all to be together.”

  “I know Logan wants that more than anything.”

  “What about you?”

  Two days earlier, my response would have been crystal clear. Now it’s not so certain.

  “I just need some time to think.”