by J. R. Tate
“Hey man, I’m gonna go get started on that Silverado. It just needs an oil change. Get what you need done in here. I’ve got it under control out there.”
Charlie shook his head and pulled up his emails, thankful that his friend caught on that he was done talking about it. “Mario will be in late, but he’ll be here. It looks like it’s just gonna be the three of us.”
“We’ll probably get more done today than with a full staff,” Todd replied as the office door shut behind him, leaving Charlie alone to ruminate over everything they had just talked about.
How crazy would it be to go to Cassie’s place and look through Skylar’s stuff?
What if he got caught?
How much would he find? He wasn’t sure if she kept a journal or wrote anything down. Everything seemed to be all on computers and in phones now, and he hated the fact that he didn’t know Skylar as well as he felt he should. But then again, how much did she even bother disclosing to Cassie? And why wasn’t Cassie scrambling to find things out? Why was she so quick to point the finger at him when deep down, she knew he wasn’t capable of the crimes he was a person of interest for.
Would he go so far as to break in if she did change the locks? He had given his keys back to her, but there was a hide a key under the mat on the porch. Had she moved that too, or did she completely forget about it?
The thought of doing it made Charlie nauseous. He wasn’t a criminal, but this was treading on breaking the law. He didn’t have much to lose. He had to do it for Skylar. The cops sure weren’t in a hurry and he was done dragging his feet. He couldn’t be pessimistic and lose hope. To hell with worrying about getting caught. At least he could say he tried instead of just sitting around wondering.
The workday went by fast due to being short staffed. When Charlie got off, he shot Mary a text message to let her know he’d be late. He said he had an errand to run, and though it was bending the truth, technically it wasn’t a lie. He couldn’t sit around and wait any longer. If he didn’t go searching himself, he may never know, and he couldn’t live with anymore regret.
Climbing in his truck, he nodded toward Todd as he pulled out of the parking lot. The chances for Cassie being home were about fifty-fifty, and a sinking feeling settled in the pit of his stomach as he pulled onto the access road that took him to the house. It was the route home he used to take before it felt like the world had fallen apart around him. Before he heard words like divorce and move out. It was a blessing and a curse - a blessing because of Mary, and a curse because his family was split up and Skylar was gone.
His thoughts pulled his focus off of driving, and the rumble strip on the side of the road vibrated the truck, pulling him from his daydream - or day nightmare, if there was such a thing.
Rounding the corner, he looked down the road at the house. The driveway was empty, the lights off as he parked alongside the curb. That was a good thing, though it didn’t necessarily mean she wasn’t there. With her being high all the time, she could very well be passed out, her days and nights mixed up, or she could be sitting and waiting, allowing the paranoia to take over.
Charlie would play it cool. He’d knock first and if someone did answer, he’d say he just wanted to check on her. Maybe even check on Gavin. It would work and she’d be pissed, but it was better than barging in and getting shot due to her heightened fears from being high on whatever she was taking.
Walking up the steps, he balled his fist and knocked. Taking a few steps back, he tried to hear for movement in the house, but there was none.
“Cassie?”
Still nothing. Either she was gone or she was sound asleep. Her bedroom wasn’t far from the living room.
Charlie tried the knob. It was locked, but it looked like the same locks as when he lived there. He smiled when he flipped the mat over. The spare key was there, right where he hoped it would be. Lifting it, he let out a sigh of relief. There it was, staring right back at him, never touched since he had put it there a few years back. Cassie probably had forgotten about it.
It slid in the lock and the door opened, exposing him to the living room that was once his. He shut the door behind him and didn’t turn on any lights. Though it was getting dark out, he could see the mess – beer cans, liquor bottles and trash scattered throughout, and the smell matched the look of the place. He winced and put his hand up to his nose. Cassie never let the place get this bad and it confirmed her new, drugged out lifestyle.
He didn’t want to make excuses for his ex wife. Everyone had their ways of coping when it came to the tragedy they were experiencing. If it weren’t for Mary, Charlie was scared to think about how bad off he’d be. That woman had truly saved him, and it was unfortunate that Cassie couldn’t find any other outlet than drugs to free herself from the troubles around her.
He took the stairs up to the landing and looked down onto the living room, getting a better view of the house. Had the detectives seen the shape it was in? Had they been hounding her as much as they had been hounding him? It made perfect sense why Gavin hadn’t been returned home to Cassie – someone knew about this, or Cassie just didn’t give a damn. Maybe it was a combination of the two.
Charlie closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He was here to get information on Skylar, not analyze the psyche of Cassie. His daughter’s room was a few steps to the right, and he opened the door to a wide array of bright colors all over the walls, including the canopy over her bed she had begged him for when she had turned nine.
It had been forever since he had been in her room, and he took a moment to gain his composure. Being there was like having her back, and the flood of emotions made him weak in the knees. He smiled at the pictures of her with her friends, but felt sadness when he stared into her eyes, the unknown about the entire situation making the guilt feel like he was carrying around a three hundred pound man on his shoulders.
He couldn’t let it get to him. He had a short amount of time to try to find out anything that would give him some clue on how or where to find her. Padding to her desk, he sifted through a few books. He remembered a journal she used to hide between her mattresses. He had stopped in to tell her goodnight one evening and she had shoved it in the crevice before he could see. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he dug his hand down and found it, pulling it out. The cops didn’t search very well – usually a mattress was a dead ringer for a hiding spot.
Without thinking twice, he turned to the first page. Her bubbly handwriting was all over it in different colors of ink that matched the color scheme in her room. He didn’t read it word for word until he got closer to the end. There was an address scribbled with a large heart around it, but no name. It was a local address, but one that didn’t seem familiar.
In an attempt to not be pessimistic, he told himself it had to be something. If anything, maybe it’d lead to a friend who might have more information. Had the cops even talked to Skylar’s friends and classmates? They’d be the first to know if she had been corresponding with someone online or hanging out with someone she shouldn’t have been.
Damn it! If he could just get his hands on her phone or computer. He turned back to the front of the journal and inside the cover were more random notes. One had a display of numbers and the word love. It looked like a password, so he decided to just take the entire journal with him. He’d have more time back at Mary’s to get more details.
Charlie took about fifteen more minutes to look around, but past the journal, there wasn’t much to go off of. It was getting too dark to see and he still didn’t want to turn any lights on, so he decided to call it a night and get out of there before Cassie got back.
Hurrying down the stairs, he took one last look at the living room, shaking his head. What a disaster. And to think, they once were living the American dream – a beautiful home, two kids, and a decent job. And now, he was a person of interest in his daughter’s disappearance. Life changed too fast.
Stepping out on the porch, he locked the door and rather than putting t
he key back under the mat, he slipped it into his pocket beside the journal. Cassie wouldn’t miss it.
When he turned to step off of the porch, a bright flashlight greeted him, the beam right in his eyes and two people he couldn’t make out. Squinting, he shielded his face with his hand to try and figure it out, but when the man spoke, he knew exactly who it was.
“Well hell, if it isn’t Charlie Wright. What in the hell are you doing here?” Detective Garza moved the flashlight away and it took Charlie a second to blink away the bright starburst.
“Looks to me like he was breaking and entering. What do you think, Detective Garza?” Detective Milson stepped forward, her smile full of arrogance.
“I think you’re right, Detective Milson. He and Cassie are divorced. He has no business being at this residence.”
Charlie wasn’t sure if he should speak or just keep his mouth shut. He wanted to plead his case, but they wouldn’t care.
“You’ve got it so bad for me, Detective Garza, you’re willing to pin whatever you can on me just so I have to spend the night in a cell.” Suddenly the weight of the journal was heavy in Charlie’s pocket. Hopefully they wouldn’t take it, but he had the address memorized. They couldn’t take his memory.
“So you were breaking and entering?” Detective Garza asked, cocking his eyebrow.
“Does it matter? Like I said, you want to get me for whatever you can. Even if I never stepped inside, you’d say I did just to get me in cuffs.”
“What are you doing here, Charlie?” Detective Milson got right to the point, her hand on her hip, as she looked him like he was a bug.
Should he mention he had a key? Would they want to take it from him? He thought better of it. It was the only thing he had to keep him close to Skylar, and he might need to get back in if he needed to come back for something.
“I feel like I shouldn’t say.”
“And why is that, wise guy?” Detective Garza pointed the light back at him and it made Charlie’s head hurt.
“You’re using everything I say against me. Isn’t that how it works?”
“We haven’t read you your rights… at least, not yet.” Garza smiled and it sent chills down Charlie’s back.
“Am I under arrest? You haven’t been too clear about all of this.” Charlie spread his hands, glancing over his shoulder at the door.
“We saw you coming out of the place, so technically, yeah, we need to take you in. You don’t live here. Cassie has made it clear she doesn’t want you around. Maybe this will convince her to get a restraining order on your ass.”
Either the cops were turning a blind eye to Cassie’s new lifestyle, or they didn’t know. Charlie figured they were well aware of it, but were too focused on him to even care.
“Do what you gotta do,” Charlie said. There was no fighting them.
Detective Milson reached for her cuffs and clicked them open. “Put your hands on the wall and face it.”
Charlie did as he was told, despite the fact that everything was telling him to run. What good would that do? It’d make him look guilty. Right now, all they had on him was breaking in, and it was something he could bail out on easily. He’d have to spend his savings to get out. There was no way he could ask Mary to help when he did this to himself, nor would he ever consider asking her.
Detective Garza did a quick pat down, stopping when he got to Charlie’s pocket with the journal. Pulling it out, he dangled it in front of Charlie’s face.
“What do we have here? Since when does a man carry a sparkly pink notebook?”
“It’s Skylar’s,” Charlie said, regretting it. He really did need to learn to keep his mouth shut.
“We did a search of her room. Where did you find it?”
Charlie ducked his head and looked at the ground. “Just take me in. I’m not saying anything else.”
Detective Garza tossed the journal to Detective Milson and Charlie felt the cold metal of the cuffs clamp down on his wrists. The cop jerked him toward the car, and he almost lost his footing. At least he had the address memorized, or thought he did, just in case. As soon as he had access to a pen and paper, he’d scribble what he knew to make sure.
They shoved him in the backseat with a thud, and Charlie narrowly missed hitting his head on the door. He already knew what he’d use his phone call for, that is, if they even gave it to him. Things didn’t seem by the book, and Charlie needed a lawyer. He had been avoiding it, afraid that hiring an attorney would be an admission of guilt, but things were getting worse and he was barely treading water. Cassie would have field day once she heard about this.
The drive to the station was quiet. The two detectives exchanged small talk, but Charlie’s mind was going in so many directions that he wasn’t paying attention. He was trying to come up with ways to find his daughter, but instead, was wasting time in police custody because they had some kind of hard on for him.
They parked by the front doors and escorted him inside. All eyes turned toward him as they walked past several desks, and when they got to the second floor, the whispers and finger pointing were enough to drive him to actually commit a crime.
“How about you sit inside that interrogation room?” Detective Garza motioned for a uniform cop. “Take these cuffs off and give them back to Milson. Go ahead and use the cuffs on the table to restrain him. I’m not sure what he’s up to.”
The cop nodded and led Charlie inside, doing as he was ordered. They left him alone for a long time. It was probably some kind of psychological game to see if the waiting would drive him to admit something. He didn’t have a watch on and there was no clock, but it felt like an hour had passed before they finally came back in, each holding a cup of coffee as they sat across from Charlie.
“Here we are again, Wright. Why does all this shit keep leading back to you?” Garza leaned back in his chair and sipped on the steaming liquid. “Damn, they made that strong. Who made this coffee?” He pointed at it and motioned toward Milson.
“One of the desk jockeys, I guess,” Milson replied.
They were playing the run around game, and Charlie had to be patient. It was a ploy to get him to talk – to let the impatience help him make a bad decision so they could implicate him.
“Find out who it was. A damn spoon could probably stand up in this sludge.” Garza faced Charlie. “You want some? It might be a long night for you.”
“No.” Charlie kept it short and simple.
“So, you feel like you need to be doing a little investigating of your own? That why you went there? You feel like we’re not doing our jobs right?”
“I want a lawyer.” Charlie wasn’t a legal expert, but after a lawyer was requested, hypothetically they were supposed to end the interrogation and help him out. But this was different. Everything seemed to be an exception in this situation.
“Oh you do, huh?” Garza finished his coffee and tossed the foam cup in the trashcan. “I think if I were you, I’d want one too.” Turning to Milson again, Garza nodded at her. “Care to give him the scoop?”
Milson sat down and folded her arms over her chest. “You’ve been spotted with Mary Reynolds around town.”
“And?”
“You two have been sleeping together. You’ve been staying at her place.”
“Is there a question in there somewhere?” Charlie asked as he tugged on his arm. The angle of the cuff was uncomfortable and he was starting to grow numb.
“So you have been sleeping with her?” Garza asked.
“Where’s my lawyer?” Charlie kept his voice low. “And I’m not sure what Mary Reynolds has to do with this.”
“We’ll get you a lawyer. And we’re looking into this Mary woman. Could be an accomplice. But you should know something, Charlie. We are looking into every facet of your life. Who you’re talking to. Your coworkers. Who you’re banging.” Detective Garza leaned in. “You might ought to think about becoming a recluse if you don’t want to take people down with you. You killed your daughter, didn’t
you?”
“No.” Charlie was on the verge of losing control, and he looked away before he lost his temper. He had no way else to compose himself.
“You did! Damn it, admit it! You killed her!” Garza slammed his hands on the table and they echoed against the brick walls.
“No,” Charlie repeated, only a littler louder than the last time.
“Where’s the body, Charlie? Why’d you do it?” Garza stood up and leaned over the table, keeping his dark brown eyes on Charlie. “How could you take your own child’s life?”
“I didn’t kill her!” Charlie couldn’t hold it in any longer. The false accusations and the continuous, repetitive questions were grating on him. “You’re looking at the wrong guy! You’re wasting time!” His voice shook and he felt his eyes burn. The tears caught in the corners of his eyes and he swiped them away with his free hand.
Detective Garza backed up, his smirk only accelerating Charlie’s rage. “Detective Milson.”
“Yeah?”
“Get this guy a lawyer. And call central booking. We’ve gotta hold him until we contact Cassie Wright. We need to see if she wants to press charges on his breaking into her house.” He spoke to his partner, but never looked away from Charlie.
“Will do.” She left them alone in the small room, the door slamming as she made her exit.
“I bet I can guess who your one phone call will be.”
Charlie gritted his teeth. He had lost. He had let the detectives get the best of him. “That’s none of your fucking business,” he whispered, keeping his head low.
“I’m gonna get you, Wright. You’re gonna slip up. We’re digging and we’re close. I hope that ex wife of yours does press charges. They’ll eventually be upgraded to murder. Capital murder. Death row. Sound good? I couldn’t imagine sitting in a cell, waiting for the death warrant to be signed. Just knowing the day you’re gonna die – counting the hours, the minutes, and the seconds. That’s your future, Charlie Wright. You’ll get lethal injection for killing Skylar.”
