Sibley's Secret

by Frank Perry

He spelled it.

  As the nurse persisted, Jim asked one more question, “What were you and Ms. Chuikov doing on the property?”

  After crossing into Indiana, Rack found a rest stop on I-80, halfway home. He texted the client: Subject is down, one shot, clean kill, and girl down as collateral. Please confirm payment.

  He waited less than a minute: You shot the girl! She was not the target!

  Rack responded: Look, you Russian Jerkoff. Don’t think I don’t know who you are. I told you the conditions and took the shot as ordered within the only parameters afforded me. The bullet simply did more than what was asked of it. Regrettably, these things happen. I will expect payment immediately.

  Apparently, Jelavich didn’t like being called Jerkoff. He didn’t answer the message, not intending to send payment. In Moscow, he was trying to figure out how to salvage a bad situation. At that point, he didn’t know if either victim was dead or alive.

  Revelation

  “How well did you know your father? What did he tell you about your mother?” The older woman leaned forward with her hands clasped in her lap, eager to hear Kiki’s response.

  “I don’t think I knew him well at all. He controlled every aspect of my life. He told me what to do and when to do it and never cared about what I might want. We never discussed anything. Once he knew I was going to leave the farm and not be his slave laborer, we hardly talked at all. If I had an objection or opinion about anything, he wasn’t interested. It’s like we lived under the same roof for twenty years and never communicated. I did ask about my mother when I was younger and he just said she was gone. He didn’t say anything more. I could never tell if it pained him to talk about her or he just didn’t care.”

  The old woman said sardonically, “He didn’t care.”

  Kiki looked at her, surprised, “You knew him?”

  “As much as it pains me to say it, yes. You were one of the only two good things he ever did?”

  “What was the second?”

  “I’ll tell you in a bit, but first, do you remember anything about her, your mother?”

  Kiki couldn’t read the woman. “No, she left when I was two or three; all I can remember are vague notions about being held. It’s something my father never did.”

  She was about to add more when the woman continued, “Your mother and father met at the Ford plant in July 1969 when he got back from overseas and were married on July 1st the next year. He was a production line supervisor, and she was on the assembly line. He was big and strong with a commanding personality, and she just loved him.

  “When she was pregnant almost immediately, he talked to her father, Carter Albrecht, about taking over the farm. Your father was crazy to get the farm. He thought he loved it more than anything else and Carter didn’t have the strength any longer to run it. After some badgering, Carter agreed to sell it to his son-in-law, your father, but only on the condition that your father should know the full history of the place and protect its secrets. In the shuffle, Carter never did sign over the original Bill of Sale that John had from before the first war. I still have it framed in my cottage. I don’t think your father ever paid him much either, probably just enough to stay poor. After settling on the farm and you were born, your father wasn’t happy being a father. He wanted to keep going out with other women and of course this hurt your mother deeply. They fought about it, and he started slapping her around, telling her that she was his ‘woman’ and would do as she was told.

  His personality changed during those early years of their marriage, and it became unbearable, so she wanted to leave him. He wouldn’t let her go and when she persisted, he did the cruelest thing imaginable; he told her to get out, he wanted her gone by then, but to injure her more than even killing her, he told her to leave the child, you, behind. As a final blow, she could never file for divorce, and could never remarry.”

  Kiki though she saw the older woman’s eye start to water, but she woman kept on, “He told her that she was never to set foot on the property again and if she did, he would go to the police and tell everything. He would show where the sheriff was buried and where that Army man’s, Hicks, property was hidden. It would have killed Carter, who was too weak by then to intervene on her behalf. If Carter had talked to your father, I never knew, but he would have made the same threats to him. Your father was the meanest man I ever met.”

  “You knew him well then?”

  “Yes, I knew him well.”

  Kiki was in shock. “Please tell me your whole name.”

  The woman looked at her fists tightly pressed into her lap, “Sibley Albrecht.”

  “Are you my mother’s sister?”

  The woman hadn’t looked up, but it was apparent that she was crying, “No, Kiki, your mother didn’t have any sisters.”

  She couldn’t believe what she was hearing, she was stunned. Her father had been a cruel animal, far worse than even she could have believed. Could this be true? Is this woman telling me that she’s my mother, that she drove my school bus just to see me and give me presents without ever being able to tell me? Oh, God, is it true?

  The old woman collapsed, and Kiki moved beside her, helping Sibley rest her head on her daughter’s shoulder. Kiki was too stunned to say anything, she just held her as Sibley cried like a baby.

  After a few minutes Sibley sat up wiping her wet eyes. “I’m sorry, I didn’t want it to be like this; I didn’t know how you would react.” It was then that she noticed tears in Kiki’s eyes. “Oh, dear, don’t cry. I don’t want you to be sad.”

  Sniffling, Kiki said, “I’m not sad.”

  Sibley said, “Do you know why you’re called Kiki?”

  Kiki was still in shock from the earlier revelation and couldn’t speak, so Sibley continued, “When you were only one, you heard grandpa Carter and your father call me ‘Sibley.’ You said ‘Kiki’ and it stuck after that.

  Sibley then stood saying, “Come dear, I want to introduce you to your brother, he doesn’t know the story either.

  Kiki stopped, “My brother?”

  “Yes, I was pregnant when your father threw me out, and he never knew he had a son.

  The Connection

  “I can’t believe it! I have a mother and a brother. Jim, do you know what this means! Oh, I can’t wait to tell Chad.” Her jubilation surprised him, even for such a momentous revelation.

  He smiled, holding her around the waist, their lower bodies connected, arousing him. “So, that’s the big secret? Why all the drama?”

  “Well, I could tell you the rest, but I’d have to kill you.” She smiled at the old joke. “So, how was your day?” Jason and Sibley had taken her home to Jim’s place.

  “It was a 187 call, two gunshot wounds, a woman died and a man was critical when I got to the hospital. He should make it.”

  She was serious, “In Jackson, a homicide?”

  “Yeah, it’s rare but it does happen. This one is unusual though. Most of what we see are domestics or drug deals. We don’t even have the big city gang stuff. It’s usually pretty obvious and easy to solve.”

  She inquired, “This was different?”

  “Yeah, it was a couple of investigators, researchers I guess you would call them, academic types. They were ambushed at the granary a few miles away from your place.”

  She began thinking like a cop again, like a Detroit cop, “Why? I mean, why shoot a couple of university types?”

  “There’s more, the man said the shooter was a Russian mafia guy, a big tuna according to Interpol.”

  His coat and tie were off as he went to the wine rack for a bottle.

  She was totally tuned in to his case, “There’s got to be something big going on. Is this some kind of drug processing plant or uranium mine?”

  “Naw, it’s just a farmer’s co-op. They all deposit their grain and it gets trucked en mass to some mill. It’s out in the open with nothing around it except woods at the edge
of the property.”

  “Well it’s something if someone wanted to kill two people.”

  “I’ll be back at the hospital tomorrow to get more details from the man; he knew what it was all about, but was too doped up to talk any more. I may need some state help or the feds if this has international reach.”

  The following day, Jim gave Kiki his vintage car keys with instructions about some of its forty-plus year old driving habits, then took the county car to the hospital for more discussion with Evan.

  Realization

  She was gone. He couldn’t think of anything else. Why didn’t he die? Why her? It had all been his fault! Tears ran as he lay helpless in the hospital bed, poked and wired for sound. He couldn’t really move. The head of the bed was elevated and there was no comfortable position except flat on his back.

  The shoulder bandages, front and back caused him to lie partially twisted. His wound didn’t hurt much; he figured he was taking pain killers and antibiotics in combination through IV tubes. He’d asked the nurse to dim the lights. The vision of Karina’s face, staring at him in mute desperation wouldn’t go away. The detective said she died instantly. Was that really true? He didn’t believe it. Her eyes said something else, at least in his dream. He lay in quiet limbo, too rested to sleep, too medicated to stay awake. All he could do was stare at her ethereal face. Nothing else entered his mind.

  Was he dreaming? He heard a voice, “Dr. Evanoff?” Can you hear me?” Karina’s vision evaporated as a