Dead and Gone

by William Casey Moreton

  Nate is seven but seems much older. He’s what you might call an old soul. His maturity is really off the charts. He was nearly three when we noticed something was wrong, and by his fourth birthday he was completely blind. The news was devastating. I didn’t eat or sleep for weeks. You’ve heard of the seven stages of grief? Well, I went through all of them. Let me tell you, they sucked. Naturally any father with half a heart starts to question himself: what did I do wrong? Did I cause this to happen? What is God trying to teach me? Is my child being punished because I’m a bad person? I nearly went insane.

  Then one day, if you’re lucky, you come to terms with it. Somehow I found grace. I can’t imagine loving that kid any more than I do. In the end, his affliction has become something of a miracle. Though don’t get me wrong, I’d trade my soul for him to have his sight back, and I’d do it without hesitation, but wow, what a gift God has given me. Nate is exactly the child I needed.

  My nerves were on edge from the visit with the detectives. My brain was buzzing. The sooner I got back to my apartment to deal with Veronica Wagner’s body the better. I was beginning to think it had been a mistake to put off dealing with her. I still had no idea what had happened last night. I needed to get back there pronto, but first I needed a hug from my boy.

  The children were playing on the lawn. I heard them laughing and was immediately able to pick out Nate’s delightful cackle. I jogged across the street and stood on the sidewalk with my hands gripping the vertical bars of the wrought iron fence. The fence bordered the play yard on all sides, protecting the students from wandering off or from strangers wandering too close. I watched my son having a ball with his little buddies. It was impossible not to smile. I could feel my heart swelling.

  Mrs. Harmon, one of his teachers, spotted me from a distance and waved me over. She opened the gate for me.

  “You are early today, Mr. Cortland,” she said.

  I nodded. “Can’t stay but a few minutes,” I replied. “Busy day, but I wanted to grab a hug on my way across town.”

  “Nate is certainly a great hugger,” she said.

  “The best of the best,” I smiled.

  “I’ll go get him,” she offered.

  I watched her touch his arm and lean down to his ear. Then Nate’s head turned as his face brightened. He mostly resembled his mother, but he had my smile. Say what you want, but that’s a big deal to me. He held Mrs. Harmon’s hand all the way over to me, grinning ear to ear every step of the way. I went down on one knee and put out my hand for him.

  “Hey, big boy.”

  “Dad!”

  He found my outstretched hand and threw his arms around my neck. I lifted him off his feet and kissed his face and neck. I took a stroll around the perimeter of the lawn with him in my arms. He never stopped talking, describing in detail the events of the day. I hung on every precious word.

  “I’m learning checkers, Dad,” he said.

  “Checkers?”

  “Yeah! So much fun!”

  I couldn’t even begin to imagine how a game like that was possible when you couldn’t see anything on the board, but if I had learned one thing about Nate it was that he could accomplish most anything he set his mind to.

  “Dougie is really good, but I still beat him!”

  “Whoa, I’m impressed!”

  “Yeah, and Mrs. Harmon told me after I get good at checkers I can learn chess!”

  “Sounds like a mighty ambitious plan,” I told him, “but I’d say Mrs. Harmon is the right person for the job.”

  “No doubt! I’m gonna get great!”

  I set him down and we strolled hand in hand for a few more minutes, then I gave him another big hug and kiss and told him I had to run. I went out through the gate and stood at the fence another half a minute, watching him return to his friends. Leaving him was never easy.

  My heart was in my throat by the time I got back to my building. I put my key in the door but paused. I wanted this to all have been a dream. I wanted to go in there and everything to be in its proper place and there to be no body and no crime to cover up.

  I put my hand on the door and took a deep breath, but I still couldn’t muster the courage to go in. I was starting to perspire and my pulse was going through the roof. This was the craziest day of my life and I wasn’t sure how much more I could take. As far as I knew I would soon be accused of murder, and I had no way to explain it away.

  Finally I turned the knob and pushed the door open. Everything seemed exactly as I’d left it a few hours ago. I stood with my back to the door and struggled to steady my breathing. Molly came through the kitchen to greet me. I glanced down the hallway toward the bedroom door. I was terrified of facing whatever was on the other side, but I was going to have to march down there and face it like a man.

  So I decided there was no more putting it off. I took one step into the hallway. Then there was a knock at the door and every molecule in my body froze. I turned back to the door and looked out through the peephole.

  Detective Ballard and Detective Curry were both standing outside.

  CHAPTER 11

  Time seemed to stop. I took a step back. My vision blurred for a moment as the room seemed to tilt. My body went numb. I took a second step backward. Molly was at my side, wanting my attention, but I pushed her away with my hand. Why had the police come to my door? I had spoken to them less than an hour ago. I’d given them my personal information but had never expected them to pay me a visit so soon. What in the world could they want?

  Then my mind flashed on Veronica Wagner under the sheet on my bedroom floor. I steadied myself and tried not to panic. It seemed impossible to think that they had already found out about her death. There was no reason to believe that anyone else knew where she was but me. Surely Ballard and Curry were here about Terry Burgess. There couldn’t be any other explanation. If so, why hadn’t they simply called?

  I glanced around, suddenly swept up by the desire to flee into the streets.

  There was another knock at the door. Then I heard a man’s voice.

  “Mr. Cortland, this is Detective Curry. We saw you enter the building. Please open the door.”

  There wasn’t time to rush into the bedroom and get rid of the body. I couldn’t simply hide her in the bathtub or dump her out a window.

  “Just a second,” I said, my mind racing.

  I stood without breathing for what felt like hours but was literally only a few seconds. Right then and there I decided I was simply going to have to face it. Whatever was going to happen in the next few minutes was out of my hands. If I was responsible for her death, I wasn’t sure I had the energy to run from it forever anyway.

  I turned the deadbolt and opened the door. We stared at each other.

  “Sorry to bother you, Mr. Cortland,” Ballard said.

  I stood in the doorway, momentarily blocking them from entry. It wasn’t any kind of defensive, protective stance, but I didn’t see any need of being too quick on the draw with an invitation to step inside my home.

  “This is certainly a surprise,” I said. “Did you gentlemen get lost?”

  Curry made a show of glancing at his watch. “Short work day?” he asked.

  “Do I need to point out that today is not a typical day?” I replied. “I’ll be back at the office shortly, but this is a traumatic event. We’ve already sent all nonessential staff home and are offering grief counseling to anyone in need of it. It’s actually going to turn into a long day for me, detective, but thanks for your concern.” I made sure there was plenty of bite in my tone.

  “Of course, no offense intended,” he said.

  I shrugged.

  “Could we step inside a minute?” Ballard asked.

  “Detectives, you really couldn’t have picked a worse time. Can this wait? I’d be happy to sit down and talk with you at length, like tomorrow even, and I’ll tell you everything I’ve ever known about Terry Burgess, right down to whether he prefers boxers or briefs. Right now I’ve got a lot
to do, and I’m dealing with a lot of emotions. Terry was my best friend. I’m not taking the news of his death particularly well, to be real honest with you.”

  “This isn’t about the Terry Burgess case,” Curry said.

  “Oh?” I said.

  “Do you know a woman named Ellen Ingram?” he asked quickly.

  Wow, talk about a change of subject. For a long beat I was literally speechless. Finally I found my tongue again.

  “Uh, yeah, sure, of course.”

  “How well do you know Ms. Ingram, Mr. Cortland?”

  “We’ve been dating for a while.”

  Curry kept his eyes locked on mine as Ballard made notations on his small spiral-bound pad.

  “I’m not sure I understand what’s going on here. Why are you asking me about Ellen?”

  “How long have you been dating?” Curry asked.

  “Less than a year, I guess.”

  “Would you consider it a serious relationship?”

  I’d been caught off guard by the line of questioning, and was scrambling to wrap my brain around where this might be headed.

  “I’m not sure how to answer that question.”

  “Do you love her?”

  “Would you mind telling me where this is going? I’ve had one hell of a morning, and these sudden questions about the status of my relationship with my girlfriend strike me as arbitrary and unsettling.”

  “When was the last time you saw Ms. Ingram?” Curry asked.

  I stood in the doorway with my forearm braced against the vertical trim of the doorjamb. I couldn’t give him an honest answer. The past couple of days were still a blank. This was Tuesday and I couldn’t remember anything between Friday and Monday night. It seemed logical that I hadn’t been with her any time last night because of dinner with Terry and having awakened in a room with Veronica Wagner.

  “Get to the point,” I demanded.

  The two detectives exchanged a cryptic look.

  “We would really prefer to discuss this inside,” Ballard said.

  My mouth was dry. Bringing them inside was no good. I didn’t know what was going on or why they had come to my door asking about my relationship with Ellen Ingram, but letting them through my door wasn’t going to lessen my problems. The front door was maybe thirty feet from my bedroom door. That meant they would be standing thirty-five feet from Veronica Wagner’s body. My stomach twisted into a thousand knots, but I had to appear cool and unfazed. Turning them away might be viewed as suspicious behavior.

  “How long will this take?” I asked.

  “Give us five minutes,” Ballard said.

  I led them into the kitchen and prayed they couldn’t see me sweating through my shirt. I sat at the breakfast table next to a window with a view of a high rise across the way. I could see an old woman across the street watering her plants. Far below, a sanitation truck was busy collecting bags of garbage from the curb. Ballard sat across from me. Curry remained standing.

  “OK, five minutes,” I said. “I’m burning daylight.”

  Curry repeated his previous question. “When was the last time you saw Ellen Ingram?”

  “It’s been a couple of days, I’d guess.” It genuinely was a guess.

  “Did she come here?”

  “Might have, but I don’t remember. We eat out a lot. We might have simply met for dinner and said goodnight.”

  “Is that what happened?”

  I sat up straight and folded one leg over the other, then looked each man in the eyes. They were clearly trying to guide me in a certain direction.

  “Has something happened to Ellen?”

  “Do you know what kind of car she drives?”

  I nodded. “Of course. An older model Acura.”

  “That’s correct,” Curry said. “Her car was found this morning in a sketchy neighborhood in New Jersey, abandoned and burned out. The fire was still smoldering when the authorities arrived on the scene. They ran the tag and found the car registered to Ms. Ingram. They contacted us because of her Manhattan address, and we were able to speak to her roommate over the phone.”

  I quickly connected the dots. “Jill told you about me,” I said, completing the thought for him.

  “Her roommate mentioned a boyfriend, yes. And because Detective Ballard and myself had already spoken with you this morning, the link between the two cases was made almost immediately.”

  “Is Ellen okay?” I asked, pushing away from the table to stand.

  “She was not located at the scene and there does not appear to be any human remains in the car.”

  My head was spinning. How could this day get any worse? I began to pace, genuinely stunned by what was being said to me.

  “Are you absolutely certain it’s her car?”

  Curry nodded. “The New York plate and the Acura’s VIN number were a match.”

  “What would she have been doing in New Jersey?” I asked. “She works and goes to school here in the city. Could the car have been stolen?”

  “That’s certainly a possibility. The roommate told us Ms. Ingram was a student at Columbia and we’ve already contacted the administrators office there to be on the lookout for her. Same with her employer. We have yet to hear back from either, but it’s only been a short time.”

  I grabbed for my iPhone. “Let me call her,” I said.

  They watched me.

  I stepped over by the window and listened to the call dial out. Molly, my Labrador, wandered through the kitchen and settled back into her spot on the short sofa. The TV was playing with the sound off. The call went directly to voice mail. I dialed again, remembering sitting at my desk that morning and discovering the photo of her I’d placed facedown in anger. Ellen and I had exchanged harsh words, but I couldn’t remember any of those words or anything that might have happened between us afterward.

  My mind flashed from Ellen to Terry to Veronica. Terry and Veronica were both dead. Please, God, tell me the same isn’t true of Ellen.

  Again there was no answer.

  “Not answering,” I told them.

  “Her roommate, Jill Strathearn, told us that Ms. Ingram hadn’t been back to their apartment in at least forty-eight hours. She stated that Ms. Ingram never stays away for that long unless she’s spending the night at your place.”

  I had to watch my words. They were trying to box me in.

  I sat beside Molly and rubbed her ears. She placed her head on my lap.

  “Was her car reported stolen?”

  “No,” Curry answered.

  “I can’t believe this.”

  I spooled through the call log on my cell. The last call from Ellen had been Monday morning. According to the timestamp the call had lasted less than three minutes. The call before that had been me calling her late Friday evening. The timestamp showed that no time had elapsed. She hadn’t answered. I had to assume the call on Monday must have been the argument that resulted in the photo in my office being slammed down.

  “This is a nightmare,” I sighed.

  “Do you live alone, Mr. Cortland?” Ballard asked.

  The room was spinning. I had to focus to understand his words. I simply nodded yes.

  “Does Ms. Ingram stay over here frequently?”

  “Just sometimes,” I said.

  “This is a nice place,” Curry said, glancing around with a patronizing expression. His eyes roved as he strolled past the breakfast nook to the living room. He buried his hands in the pockets of his pants and made a casual tour.

  Ballard remained fixed on me. If he blinked, I didn’t notice.

  Did they suspect me of anything? The truth was they had every reason to. If a woman goes missing, the spouse or boyfriend is going to become prime suspect number one. I was visualizing the shell of the burned out car still smoldering in the pale light of early afternoon. My imagination immediately ran wild. Ellen admittedly had a wild streak in her and she had a colorful past. That’s a big part of what attracted me to her in the first place.

&nbs
p; First and foremost on my mind was the body in the bedroom. I needed to get these guys out the door ASAP. I couldn’t get Edgar Allen Poe’s The Tell Tale Heart out of my head. Like the character in the story, I was convinced the cops could hear her heart beating on the other side of the bedroom door, the sound of her pulse rising like a tribal drumbeat.

  My throat constricted to where I could barely swallow.

  I glanced at Ballard. He had asked something that I’d missed.

  “I’m sorry, what?” I asked.

  He smiled, briefly, then the smile vanished.

  “Where did the two of you meet?”

  “At a bar, I think.”

  “A place around here?”

  I stared at my hands, remembering. “The Black Goose,” I answered. “It’s downtown.”

  “Is that how you usually meet women?”

  “Does it matter? Listen, tell me what I can do to help,” I said. I walked to the door, indicating that I was ready for them to leave. They seemed to take the hint and followed me to the entry.

  “Let us know if she contacts you,” Ballard said.

  “I will.”

  Both of them stood at the door. I noticed Curry staring down the hallway to the bedroom.

  “Hopefully, your day won’t get any worse,” Ballard said.

  “I don’t see how it could,” I replied.

  Curry was still focused on the bedroom door. Something was cranking through his brain. I didn’t like it. I wanted them out.

  I opened the door and waited for them to exit.

  “Sorry to bother you with this,” Ballard said.

  “Not a bother at all. I will call Ellen’s family and friends, see if anyone has heard anything.”

  “Is that your bedroom?” Curry asked.

  I felt my blood turn to ice.

  “Uh, yes it is,” I answered.

  His eyes flicked from the bedroom door to me.

  “Do you always leave it shut during the day?” he asked.

  Both men stared at me.

  I managed to cough up an answer. “Never really thought about it.”