Seeing Black

by Sidney Halston

  “So what now?” Heather asked.

  “I honestly don’t know.”

  “Do you know where Rocco lives?” Heather asked.

  “No, but that can’t be too hard to find out. Where’s Jill’s computer? Or yours?”

  Heather motioned for him to follow her to her bedroom, where she proceeded to boot up her computer. They searched Rocco’s name until they found addresses to two homes and one apartment. Without a word, Alexander proceeded to leave the apartment.

  “Wait!” Heather shouted. “Where are you going? It’s late. You’re just going to barge in? The nearest house is only a few minutes away, but the other two are well over an hour away.”

  “I can’t just sit here and wait. I think, no, I know, he has something to do with it. I have to go find out myself.”

  Right as Heather was going to say something, Alexander’s cell phone rang. He looked at the caller ID. It was an unknown number.

  “Hello?” Alexander asked.

  “It’s me.”

  “Oliver.” Alexander said a little dejected. For a split second he had hoped it was Jillian. At the mention of his brother, Heather took a few steps closer to Alexander in an attempt to hear the conversation.

  “I just landed in California on a layover. Heather told me about Jill. I tried calling her a few times, but it goes straight to voicemail.”

  “I know. We just filed a missing persons report with the police.”

  “Shit,” Oliver said. “You think she’s missing? When’s the last time you saw her? Have you tried calling her cell? Tried checking school?”

  “Yes!” Alexander snapped. “Sorry. Sorry. I didn’t mean to yell. I’m just frustrated. I haven’t seen her since Monday, and we haven’t spoken since then because we were arguing. She hasn’t returned my calls. At first, I just thought it was because of our fight, but now, I think it has something to do with Rocco.”

  “Did you try speaking with him?”

  “Yeah, of course, but he denies having seen her.”

  “Could he be covering for her? You know. Since you guys fought, maybe she just needs some time.”

  “That’s what your girlfriend said.” Alexander looked over at Heather, who rolled her eyes and blushed. “Come on, Oliver, you know Jill just as much as I do. She’d never just disappear. She’d at least let you or Heather know she was alright.”

  “Yeah, that’s true.”

  “Heather and I found Rocco’s addresses, and I’m heading out now to see if she’s there.”

  “I’m going with you!” Heather yelled.

  “No!” Oliver yelled back at Heather.

  “He says, ‘No,’” Alexander relayed to Heather.

  Heather grabbed the phone from Alexander’s grip and pressed the speaker button. “What do you mean ‘no’?”

  “Baby, don’t go. Stay put. Rocco gives me the creeps, and if Alexander and Rocco have a fight, I don’t want you in the middle.” Heather looked at the phone as if the phone were a breathing living organism. Her cheeks were red.

  “Yeah, Heather, I agree. One missing girl’s enough,” Alexander said.

  Heather pouted. “Baby?” Her face squished, and she whispered then shook her head as if she was trying to get the words out of her head more than the actual context of the conversation. The term of endearment seemed to shake her. “She’s my friend too. I’m worried. I’ll stay in the car.”

  “Please, Heather. Just stay there. I’m halfway around the world, and I’m worried enough as it is. I don’t want to worry about you too. For me, please, just stay.”

  Heather groaned, but Alexander noticed a small smile make its way to her face. “Okay, fine, I’ll stay.”

  “Good girl. Thanks. I’ll see you both as soon as I can. If you hear anything, call me right away.”

  “Okay, brother,” Alexander said.

  “Bye, guys.”

  “Bye, honey.” Heather said to Oliver.

  Alexander hung up and turned to Heather before he walked out. “I’ll call you as soon as I know something. Don’t do anything stupid, Heather. Stay here, okay?” He was out the door before she had a chance to respond.

  Alexander spent most of the night driving. He drove to all three of Rocco’s homes; all were empty. They didn’t look abandoned—the lawns were manicured—but they didn’t look lived-in either. Unless Alexander broke in, there was no way of knowing for certain, but he did look in the windows and knock incessantly, and it didn’t seem anyone was there. He sent a quick text to Heather informing her and drove back to his apartment, riddled with worry.

  ***

  For months, Alexander drove constantly by Rocco’s homes. They were always vacant. He called Rocco almost daily with threats that had begun to sound more like desperate pleas, but Rocco always responded as if he were just as worried and doing everything in his power to find her.

  About a month after Jill’s disappearance, Rocco invited Alexander over to one of his homes, one that Alexander had no knowledge about, one that was not on public records as being owned by him. It was a beautiful mansion that sat in front of a mammoth golf course. Later, this house would be included in the rounds of surveillance he made of Rocco’s other homes. The visit didn’t go well, mostly because Alexander didn’t go to Rocco’s to socialize. He had gone to look around, ask questions, and find out what the hell was going on. Rocco’s calm demeanor had gotten under Alexander’s skin, and in the middle of a conversation in which Rocco was calmly explaining to Alexander about the private investigators he had hired to find his daughter, Alexander stood and without invitation climbed up the stairs and began to look around. He tore the house apart, and there was not a single sign of Jillian. Rocco didn’t stop him. He stepped aside and allowed Alexander to search. When Rocco’s guards tried to stop Alexander, Rocco told them to back off. When there was nowhere else to look, Rocco asked him to sit and talk further, but Alexander stormed out.

  And thus, the surveillances of Rocco’s homes began. At first, he would drive by because it was all so fresh and Alexander knew that Rocco was keeping her in one of the houses. He felt it in his gut. He’d go to the nearest home right before classes began each morning and the remaining three, which were spread out throughout the city, after class. He’d get off his bike, knock, and look through the window. For about two months, Alexander tried to juggle school, surveillance, calls to the detective, and calls to Rocco, all while feeling helpless, scared, and angry. When he saw he wasn’t getting anywhere, he quit school and the surveillance of the homes became an obsession. Sometimes he’d go three times a day, hoping to catch someone at different times of the day, but that never happened. He hired a private investigator himself, and that didn’t get him much further. Heather helped as much as she could. She was in constant contact with the detective handling the case. When Oliver arrived back from Japan, he asked his employer for an extended leave of absence and would go with Alexander as often as possible on the rounds of Rocco’s homes, and when he wasn’t with his brother, Oliver was with Heather, trying to figure out where to search next.

  ***

  “Alexander, you need to re-enroll in school.”

  “Not yet.”

  “It’s been four months, and we haven’t come even a little closer to finding her. No clues, no information. Nothing. You have to start living your life again.”

  “I can’t live my life, knowing Jill’s out there not living hers.”

  Oliver let out a deep breath, seemingly nervous.

  “I’m going to propose to Heather.”

  “Pardon?”

  “I love her. I’m going to propose.”

  “No. You have to wait on Jill. Heather is her best friend. Fuck, man, so are you. She loves you. Don’t do that to her.”

  “Xander, you have to let her go.”

  “Fuck you!” He spat.

  “All three of us, we’re family. We grew up together. This hasn’t been easy for me either, brother. I feel like I’ve lost a sister. I miss her too. We use
d to email constantly about our lives. I check my email every day in the hopes that, one day soon, I’ll see something in my inbox from her. I loved her very much.”

  “No, you don’t. Stop using past tense! You don’t love her. If you did, you wouldn’t be telling me to let her go.”

  “It’s been almost four months without a single trace. You can’t live like this. You’ve dropped out of school. You think that’s what she would’ve wanted?”

  “Stop fucking talking about her in past tense. So what? Four months is your cut off? Sisters get four months? What do boyfriends get? Six months? A year? Or less than a sister? Maybe I should already be over my mourning. Three months and I move on, right? Is that what you’re saying to me, Oliver?

  “You know very well that’s not what I’m saying.”

  “She’s alive. I am going to find her.” Alexander hissed. “I will find her.”

  Oliver nodded as if there wasn’t much of a point in continuing the conversation.

  “It’s too soon,” Alexander said.

  “Pardon?”

  “It’s too soon to propose. You’ve only been dating her for a few months.”

  “It’s been over four months, brother, and when you know, you know. I love her. I didn’t even know it was possible to love someone this much. I want to marry her. She’s almost finished with grad school, and then I have a long trip I have to take to Africa, and I want her to come with me. We’ve all been through so much. I don’t want to waste one single moment.”

  Alexander continued digging through boxes like an out-of-control fiend. Looking through all of Helen’s journals was his new obsession. In between going to Rocco’s homes, he read journals and looked through Jill’s belongings. Jill had never finished reading the journals. Once she met Rocco, the journals had fallen by the wayside. Alexander listened to Oliver but couldn’t comprehend him. How the hell was his brother going to marry a woman he barely knew, when all Alexander wanted—no needed—was Jill? After twenty plus years of pushing her away, when he finally gets her, it should’ve been him and her, not Oliver and Heather. He knew he was bring a jealous prick, but he couldn’t help it.

  He grabbed one of the boxes and slammed it against the wall. “It should’ve been us, Jill and me. It should have been us!” He leaned his palms against the table and dropped his head forward. Oliver walked towards him and placed a comforting hand on Alexander’s shoulder, but Alexander rolled his shoulder back in a gesture that said, Don’t touch me.

  “I loved,” realizing the error, Oliver corrected the mistake. “I love Jill too. She’s our family. By marrying Heather, if she accepts, I’m not giving up on Jillian, Alexander. It’s just me living my life. I . . . You and I and even Heather have put our lives on hold, looking for someone who may not even want to be found.”

  Alexander jerked his head to the side to look at his brother. Daggers shot out of his eyes. “What the hell are you saying to me?”

  “I’m saying that there is a possibility she left because of the fight you had, and if that’s the case, she doesn’t want to be found. If she truly believed you were cheating on her, that’s serious. It’s not the same as fighting over what movie to watch on a Saturday night. It’s a big deal, and she could have left. She could have left you,” Oliver hesitantly whispered the last words.

  “Is that the only scenario you see, asshole?”

  “No, there is a worse scenario. But I prefer not to think about that one.”

  ***

  “Here,” Heather said, pointing to an excerpt from one of Helen’s journals. A big diamond set on a platinum band shone on her left ring finger. It had been about a month since Oliver told Alexander he was going to propose to Heather. “Again, there is a reference to Esther’s journals.” Oliver and Alexander dropped the journals they were reading and moved over to read over Heather’s shoulder.

  September 26, 1990-1 year, 2 months, 19 days

  We’ve been on Onion Island over a year. Nothing’s changed. The twins are eight months old and crawling all over the island. They love to play with Jillian. I keep wondering what Esther did with her journals. I know she wrote as often as I did, and I wish I could’ve showed them to Jillian. One day, I’ll give her my journals. I sit and wonder if Esther brought them with her, if they were destroyed when we crashed, or if they sit in a box in her old home, awaiting someone’s return. I suppose these are questions I may never get an answer to.

  Helen

  “I really think that we need to find Esther’s diaries. Maybe that will help find Jill,” Oliver said. Alexander was at the breaking point. Jill had been missing now for months, and he knew exactly where she was or at the very least, who was involved—fucking Rocco. But the police had been no help. They had questioned Rocco repeatedly and found no reason to suspect he knew of her whereabouts.

  “I’ve read these journals back and forth, and so have you two.” He rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. “Where could Esther’s journals be?”

  “Bob said he searched the house and there are no other journals,” Oliver said.

  “Bob?” Heather asked.

  “Bob was Helen’s husband. I called him and asked if he could search for more journals, but he says that these were it. These are the ones that Helen left for Jill.”

  “How about the Island? Could they be there?” Heather asked.

  “The way I see it is that Esther left quickly. She packed up her shit to get away from Taylor,” Alexander said.

  “So maybe they were on her when the plane crashed?” Heather asked.

  “Maybe,” Alexander said.

  “Why don’t we talk to the curator on the island. Remember that there is that museum with all the crap they found. Maybe they found something.” Oliver said.

  “I’ve thought about that, but don’t you think that if they found journals on Rocco’s island,” Alexander accentuated Rocco’s name, “Rocco would have those. They wouldn’t be in a museum. Those journals probably incriminate him.

  “Damn. That’s true.” Oliver admitted. “Well, I’m going to try that curator anyway.”

  “By all means, brother. Knock yourself out,” Alexander said.

  ***

  A week later, Heather was lying on the couch nuzzled next to Oliver, whose legs were resting on the coffee table. Heather’s head was on Oliver’s lap, and with his free hand, he was absently twirling a lock of her hair. Alexander was sprawled out on the floor, a beer in his hand. All three had a one of Helen’s journals in their hand and were quietly reading. All three were lost in their thoughts.

  “Holy shit!” Heather yelped and jackknifed up, which caused her head to slam right into Oliver’s chin. “Oh, honey, sorry ’bout that. You okay?”

  “I don’t know if I’m more shocked by the cursing or the head butt,” Oliver said as he rubbed his chin.

  “You two are always cursing, so when it’s important and deserves a cuss word, it doesn’t have the same effect. Me, on the other hand, I say ‘shit’ and y’all listen.”

  “Guess she has a point,” Alexander replied.

  “Why are we talking about cussing? Forget that. I think I found something. Something huge!” She planted both feet on the floor and sat forward, reading out loud a passage from a ripped page of one of Helen’s journals. It was a loose paper. The boxes were full of them.

  June 1, 1989

  I cannot believe Esther! I’m shocked, horrified. Did I mention shocked? What was she thinking? She’s gone crazy. At least now I understand the urgency of leaving. This is the abbreviated version of her story, and this is exactly how she began her story. Drug trafficking, yes, drug trafficking is huge right now, especially in Miami! Yes, my sister, the woman with a Masters in English basically told me that drug trafficking is the new fad! The new “it” thing to do. But even as she continues, I can see that she is beginning to get nervous, and the words start coming out a little stammered. I’m glad. I don’t like to see her nervous, but someone who is about to give me a huge blow to the
chest with information involving DRUG TRAFFICKING better be nervous. Affected, somehow. I don’t live under a rock. I know what goes on, for the most part. I see the news about the latest plane or yacht bust. There’s even a television show about it. Esther says that it is very similar to the television show. Speedboats and planes of all sizes run back and forth between Columbia and Panama with money and/or drugs. Rocco and Josef have the ability to see the future. I’m still finding this very peculiar and hard to believe, but she’s mentioned it time and time again. They were able to see a huge speed boat that was leaving Miami and heading to Panama, carrying millions upon millions of dollar in cash late last year. It was the biggest drug transaction to date. They weren’t going to risk so much for anything less than a huge payday, an amount in the neighborhood of a hundred million dollars. She was shaking as she told me the story. Esther admitted to me she had helped them with some small things here and there. This shocked me. I never imagined my sister getting into any kind of trouble, and this is trouble of another magnitude. She says that, in this case, she had one job and one job only: distract the man who was in charge of the boat. She told me that Rocco knew exactly where and at what time the boat would be completely empty, and, therefore, it would be an easy job for her. They knew this information to the second, so it was all supposed to go very smoothly. Esther would distract the man while the three other men were in a nearby bar getting drunk, and Rocco, Josef, and two other men that they’d hired would take the money. Simple as that. In and out. But, like most movies, things didn’t go smoothly. The men who Rocco and his brother Josef hired were apprehended by one of the cocaine cowboys and shot dead. Rocco killed one of the other men, and Josef shot and maimed the other two. Luckily, Esther says she managed to play it cool, and it wasn’t suspected she was connected with Rocco and Josef, who, at the end of a bloody night in a seedy marina in Key West, escaped with all the money and their lives. But now, they had enemies, Esther says. Enemies who wouldn’t hesitate in killing them. It was all over the news for months and months, but no one ever found out what happened or why, but five men died that night. Now, Esther wants to get the hell out of Texas away from Rocco. She is still shell shocked over the murder. I think there is something else bothering her, but that’s all she told me. I don’t want to push her for more, yet, especially not in her current condition. She is about to pop any moment, and I don’t want the stress of reliving such a horrible experience—one she got herself into, by the way—or having to hear my judgment, which I have plenty of. I’ll leave all those questions and my opinions until after the birth of the baby.