Kindred Spirits

by Jean Marie Bauhaus

  It was getting late. Derek felt a little guilty for not calling first as he pulled into the winding driveway, but he figured this visit was already past due. He parked his car next to Steve’s giant Ford pickup before heading up the front walk. The yard was landscaped in such a way that it almost looked like it was growing wild and blended in well with the surroundings. Derek rang the bell and waited.

  Somewhere in the depths of the house, a dog barked. Moments later, Derek saw movement through one of the stained glass windows flanking the door. Steve opened the door with a smile. “Dougie! Come on in here!” He waved him inside enthusiastically.

  Derek took in his appearance as they exchanged pleasantries. He was a big guy, tall, broad, and built, although the OU jersey he wore draped loosely over his frame. Beneath it, he wore flannel pajama pants that signaled he definitely hadn’t expected visitors.

  He held a tablet and a pair of reading glasses in one hand, which he carried with him as he led Derek to the living room. It was a spacious room, decorated like a log cabin. A fireplace that took up an entire wall gave the space a cozy feel despite its size.

  “Have a seat.” Steve motioned to a plush leather sectional draped with fur. “Can I get you a drink? I was just about to pour myself some JD.”

  “I’ll take a Coke if you have it.” Derek sat, sinking a little too deeply into the sofa cushions. He scooted forward and leaned his forearms on his knees. He watched Steve as he went to a wet bar over by the fireplace.

  It surprised Derek a little to see more lines than he remembered around Steve’s eyes and threads of gray running through his hair. He marveled as he remembered that this man was the same age as Jimmy. He tried to imagine what his brother would look like now if he were still alive.

  “To what do I owe this pleasure?” Steve asked as he poured his drink.

  “I think you know. I wanted to thank you for your help with my little incident.”

  Steve shrugged. “I didn’t do much. Just made a phone call to my lawyer. I keep him on retainer. Might as well put him to good use once in a while.” He grinned and shook his head as he brought their drinks over. “Man, what a punch! I didn’t know little Dougie had it in him.” He handed a can of soda to Derek and settled himself in a big leather lounge chair facing the sofa.

  “Not so little anymore, I guess.” Derek opened his drink and took a sip.

  “So why’d you hit the guy?”

  Derek’s smile came without thinking. “A girl.”

  “Ha!” Steve slapped his knee. “Thought so. The one in the video? The redhead?”

  Derek nodded. Steve’s grin widened. “She’s cute. Is it serious?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe. It seems to be heading that way.”

  “That’s terrific.” Steve took a gulp of his whiskey and set it on a side table. He gave Derek a questioning look as he pointed in the general vicinity of his forehead. “So, what’s this all about?”

  Derek’s hand flew to his butterfly bandages. “Oh. We were in an accident today. A hit and run, actually.” He watched Steve’s reaction carefully but registered nothing but surprise and concern. “We’re okay. Well, Chris is in the hospital. I’ll need to get back to her soon. She had a concussion, so they’re keeping her overnight for observation. But other than that and a dislocated shoulder, she’s fine.”

  “A hit and run? Did they catch the guy?”

  Derek shook his head. “Not yet. He drove a pretty generic black SUV. Nobody got a look at the license plate.”

  Steve reached for his drink again and sat back. “Man. Almost sounds like some kind of hit job. Whose bad side are you on?”

  Derek smiled ruefully and sipped his Coke. And that’s the twenty-four thousand dollar question.

  Steve grinned, obviously joking. Then he turned serious. “So how’s it going with your investigation? Any new leads?”

  “Yeah, actually. Do you remember a kid named Scottie Tucker?” At Steve’s frown, he added, “He was the manager on your high school football team.”

  Light seemed to dawn. “Oh, right. Skinny, freckled kid, spiky orange hair. Used to follow me and Jimmy around like a puppy. You don’t mean he had something to do with it?”

  “It seems that way. He’s dead, though. Apparently, his life went south after high school, and he got involved with a bad crowd. We talked to his mother today but she couldn’t tell us much.”

  “What makes you think he had anything to do with it?”

  Derek realized he hadn’t prepared an answer to that question that didn’t make him sound certifiable. He stared into his drink as though it might give him the answer. When that failed, he took a long, slow sip to buy some time. It burned its way down his throat and somehow also loosened a few gears in his brain.

  “A witness came forward,” he said, not quite making it up. “She placed Scottie near our house that night. He was with a big guy she couldn’t identify.” He looked at Steve, watching him carefully. “Can you think of anyone Scottie hung out with who might have fit that description? Someone from another school, maybe?”

  Steve appeared to think it over, then shook his head. “Nah, man. The way I remember it, that kid didn’t have a lot of friends. Like I said, he followed Jimmy and me around. We tried to be nice to him. Well, Jimmy more than me. I thought he was pretty annoying.” He shook his head. “I can’t believe he’d hurt Jimmy. What did the police say?”

  “She didn’t want to talk to the police. She’d only talk to me.”

  Steve’s face fell, then morphed into a mask of suspicion. “That sounds fishy, if you ask me. Why wouldn’t she want to talk to the police?”

  Derek shrugged. “She has her reasons.”

  “And you believe her?”

  “She doesn’t have anything to gain by lying about it. Besides, it’s the only lead I’ve got.”

  Steve considered this, then tossed back the last of his bourbon.

  “Yeah, man,” he said, leaning forward in his chair. “I guess you gotta see where it goes. Listen, I know my dad thinks you ought to drop this whole thing and let it lie. I gotta tell you, I don’t really get that. I want to see Jimmy get justice as much as you do. My company uses this private investigator sometimes, to do background checks, that sort of thing. He’s supposed to be pretty good. You want me to put him on it? Maybe he can check out your witness, find out if she’s trustworthy.”

  “Not just yet. That might spook her. But thanks for the offer.”

  “Anytime, man. Jimmy was like the brother I never had.”

  “Yeah, I know. He felt the same way. Well, you know, except for the fact that he had a brother.”

  Steve grinned. “And that makes you my little bro. So you can just give me a call next time those fists of fury land you in the clink.”

  Derek let out a laugh and stood up. “I should get going. I still need to stop at home and clean up, then get back to Chris.”

  “Yeah, of course.” Steve started to get up, but Derek held out a hand to stop him. “I can show myself out.”

  “Sure. Thanks for stopping by, little brother. Don’t be a stranger.” Derek nodded and headed back the way he came. “And tell that new girl of yours I said hello,” Steve called after him. Derek waved to acknowledge him without turning around.

  Once outside, he breathed a sigh of relief. He wasn’t sure exactly what he’d come there hoping to find. They’d already established that he couldn’t have been there that night—Jimmy would have recognized his voice, surely. And Steve seemed so sincere. He was the only one who’d ever really championed Derek’s efforts to track down the killer.

  Still, there weren’t a lot of big guys hanging around back then, and Steve certainly fit that particular bill. Derek felt guilty about it, but he’d needed to verify for himself that there was no way it could be him. Jimmy would be angry with him if he found out.

  But Jimmy didn’t need to know.

  The last time Ron had set foot in a hospital was the day her mother died. That had been a differen
t hospital, but one was pretty much like the other. Floating through the halls, she didn’t need to smell the antiseptic to trigger vivid memories of that day. They were perfectly preserved, like a bug trapped in amber. A big honking chunk of amber that hit her like a sack of hammers. Or a little red ball. Take your pick. Either sucked.

  She found the room number Derek had mentioned. There her baby sister lay, pale and fragile in her hospital gown, one arm bound in a sling. Purple bruises, already yellowing at the edges, marred the porcelain flesh on the right side of her forehead.

  Ron would have caught her breath at the sight of Chris if she had any to catch. She knew it could be worse. She should be grateful it wasn’t. But mostly, she wanted to find whoever had put her little sister in that bed and make sure they’d have nightmares for the rest of their natural life, and then some.

  Chris’s eyes fluttered. She seemed to notice Ron standing there and tried to force them to remain open, but all she managed was a squint. “Hey,” she said, but it came out all drawn out: “Heeeeeey.”

  “Wow. You are stoned.”

  Chris sighed dreamily. “Yeah. It’s nice. My arm doesn’t hurt and everything’s floaty.” She squinted at Ron. “You’re floaty.”

  “I am actually floaty. Everything else, not so much.”

  Chris giggled as though those were the most hilarious words Ron had ever uttered. She turned her head and tried to point with her injured arm. “Look! I got flowers!”

  Indeed she had. A large bouquet of gerbera daisies sat on the night stand. “Did you do that?” Chris shook her head. “No, wait, I know you didn’t. Did Derek?”

  Ron went to the bouquet and, after a quick glance to make sure a nurse wouldn’t walk in to see a floating card, pulled it out and read it. “So sorry to hear of your accident. Best wishes for a speedy recovery, Marsha.”

  “Marsha.” Chris made a nasty face. “Bleah.”

  Ron stuck the card back. “Who’s Marsha?”

  “Dad’s new girlfriend.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Dad brought her to lunch yesterday. She’s like Interior Decorator Barbie. Beyond perky. You’d hate her.”

  Ron sat on the bed. “Were you going to tell me about her?”

  “Of course. I just didn’t get a chance till now.”

  “No, I guess you didn’t.” She thought back to seeing her dad unexpectedly at the cemetery. Was that what he’d been doing there? Asking their mother’s blessing? He certainly hadn’t been there to seek Ron’s. Not that he should worry what his dead daughter thought of him moving on, and Ron knew she shouldn’t care. Still… “What’s she like?”

  Chris waved her good hand. “I told you already. She’s fashionable, and pretty, and has the personality of a Coach bag.”

  Ron lifted an eyebrow. “What does that even mean?”

  “I don’t know. You can’t expect me to make a lot of sense right now.”

  “You’re right. We can put a pin in this discussion and talk about it when you’re not so high. So… What about Derek?”

  “What about him? Is he okay? He’s still okay, right?”

  “He’s fine. Or at least he was when he stopped by the house. But don’t forget, I saw you playing tonsil hockey with him this afternoon. Does that mean you’re finally done martyring yourself for his supposed good?”

  Chris pouted. “Now you’re being mean.”

  “I’m telling it like it is. Or was, I hope. So are you two a thing now?”

  She shifted her braced arm over and fiddled with the sheets. “I guess. I actually think he’s the one who put me in danger instead of the other way around.” She stopped fiddling and looked up at Ron. “Is it weird that that makes me feel better about us?”

  “I’d say it’s not high up on the healthy relationship checklist.”

  Chris blew out air through her lips, making a raspberry sound as she laid her head against the pillows. “I like him, Ronnie.”

  “I know you do.”

  “No, I mean I really like him. I mean, I guess it would be weird to say the other thing because we haven’t really known each other that well for that long, but that other thing? I think it’s maybe becoming a thing.”

  “You know, I think I actually understood that.” Ron thought of how quickly after meeting Joe she had felt “that other thing” for him and smiled.

  “That’s ‘cause you’re the best.”

  “Okay, I’m pretty sure that’s the drugs talking.”

  “No.” Chris shook her head emphatically. “No, you understand me. You always did. You’re the best sister, Ronnie. I love you. I wish you didn’t die.”

  “I know, sweetie.” Ron bent over to kiss her baby sister on the forehead, the side that wasn’t bruised. She didn’t need to work very hard to make herself tangible enough. Her heart swelled with love for the amazing young woman Chris had grown into. “But I’m always here for you anyway. You know that.”

  “I know.” Her voice cracked, and tears streamed down her face. “Stop. This is too sappy. I can’t take it.”

  “You’re the one who started it.” Ron scanned the room for some tissues. Before she could find any a soft knock sounded on the door. It opened a crack and Ron went very still as her father stuck his head into the room.

  “There’s my baby girl,” he said, coming the rest of the way into the room and closing the door behind him.

  “Hi, Daddy!” Chris’s greeting came out as half a sob. “What are you doing here? I thought you went back to Dallas!”

  “I did. Derek called and told me what happened. I hopped on the first plane back.”

  “You didn’t have to do that.”

  “Of course I did.” As he smiled down at Chris, Ron tried to imagine Drew Wilson getting on a plane to come rushing to her side for any reason. She couldn’t do it. His smile turned to a frown as he studied Chris’s face. “Why are you crying? Are you in pain? Should I get the nurse?”

  “I’m fine.” She waved away his concern. “Ronnie was making me cry.”

  “Why? Is it because you wish she was here?”

  “She is here.” Chris waved toward Ron. “She’s right there.”

  Their dad frowned. “Well, the wreck didn’t damage your twisted sense of humor.”

  “I’m not being funny, Dad.”

  “No, you’re not.”

  Chris glanced at Ron. Then she blurted, “Do you even miss her?”

  “Of course I do.”

  “No, I mean really. Do you actually miss her?”

  He grew quiet, and he looked angry. Ron knew she should leave. She’d already made up her mind not to care anymore. It wasn’t really any of her business anyway. If Chris wasn’t doped up on morphine, she’d kill her for this. She should get out of that room and not look back. But she couldn’t move. She stood riveted, with ears that refused to stop listening and a heart that refused to stop hoping.

  “You know I miss your sister,” he said at last.

  “You wish she was still alive, right?”

  “Of course I do. I wish…” He sighed and shook his head. “I wish a lot of things. Not that it does any good. Where is this coming from? How can you even ask me that?”

  Chris looked back at Ron, who mouthed, “Thank you,” forgetting that her father couldn’t hear her if she spoke it aloud. She looked at him, how agitated, how sad he seemed, and in that moment, she could believe that on some level, he still loved her. That he actually had regrets concerning her.

  It was more than she’d had before. More than she thought she’d ever get. It would have to be enough.

  Chris turned back to him and asked, “Where’s Marsha?”

  He looked confused by her abrupt subject change, but that quickly gave way to visible relief. “She wanted to come, but I convinced her it would be best if she stayed home.” He nodded to the daisy bouquet. “I see you got her flowers.”

  “Yeah.” Chris glanced over at them. “They’re nice. Thank her for me.” They lapsed into easy conversation as
Chris gave him a heavily edited version of the accident. Ron lingered a little longer, not really listening, just marveling at the ease of their relationship and wishing she could have had that with him.

  As he offered Chris advice about dealing with insurance adjusters and negotiating claim settlements, Ron went to him and planted a kiss on top of the head. “Bye, Dad.”

  He paused and raised his hand to the spot where she’d kissed him. He looked around, probably looking for a wayward fly or an air vent that might have blown on him. While he was distracted, Ron made eye contact with her sister and waved goodbye. Chris nodded to her. She closed her eyes and beamed herself home.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Christine readjusted the seatbelt around her sling as Derek consulted the GPS on his phone. “Thanks again for doing this,” she told him.

  “I told you, don’t thank me until I actually get you home in one piece.” He glanced over at her. “But you know it’s no problem. Don’t take this the wrong way, but I’m glad you convinced your dad he didn’t need to stick around. I’d have had to wait in line otherwise.” The light changed. He set the phone in the seat between them and pulled forward slowly, but not before checking the oncoming traffic carefully.

  “Would you like me to navigate?”

  “No need. We’re almost there.”

  He slowed the car and turned onto a side street, then he made another turn into a residential area. It was an older neighborhood, well kept, with houses that looked like they’d been built in the ‘Fifties. After a couple of blocks he took a left and pulled up in front of a gray house with pink trim and flowerbeds filled with pansies. They looked like they hadn’t been watered recently. Chris supposed that had been Marie’s job.

  Cars filled the driveway and lined both curbs in front of the house. They had to go another half block before finding a place to park. Derek turned off the car and turned to her. “Sure you’re ready for this?”

  “I’m never sure.”

  He nodded and squeezed her hand. Then he got out and came around to help her out of the car, taking extra care with her injured side. Once she was on her feet, he let her take the lead.