by Jo Crow
“How do you know they have got anything to do with me?” I asked, steeling myself for whatever was to come.
“Because I don’t need forensics to tell me the bones we found are old.” The lines in the corners of his mouth tightened. “Around ten years, I reckon. And I don’t need any DNA testing to tell me what I can see with my own eyes. The skeletons are missing parts of their fingers, McNair. Fractured at the exact point of the digits we found. But you’d remember all the details, wouldn’t you? Every splintered bone?”
My stomach churned. Nothing I’d said back then had convinced him I was innocent, that he should keep looking for my parents, that it was nothing to do with me. Nausea struck so hard and so fast I suffered whiplash, and all I could do was cover my mouth with my hands as the memories flooded back. Talking to the camera had been hard, but talking to the same detective who’d been on the case? The one I’d stood behind in the shed as he’d examined the severed fingers? It was too much.
“We’ll talk at the station.” I looked away from Detective Elkins to glance at James, who was watching me closely. James was my grounding force. The last thing I wanted was for him to see me suffering. I needed to be strong. “I’ll meet you there.”
“No. You’re coming with me.”
I took a small step back, my eyes widening as his message sank in. Coming with him? I’d rather have cut off my own fingers than sit in the back of his police cruiser while he paraded me through town like a prize pony. Every hateful face assuming my guilt proven, ready to watch me fall. Hickory Hills held the keys to my future. I needed to stay, and riding in the back of Detective Elkins’s cruiser wouldn’t make it easy.
But there was no room for argument in Detective Elkins’s voice. If I didn’t comply, he’d keep pushing until he got his way. I knew my rights, but I also knew how hard the detective could make my life if he chose to. Picking my battles was just as important as winning the war, and I was too emotionally exhausted to expend energy on a fight I knew I wouldn’t win.
I drew a deep breath and trusted fate. “Then you’re going to have to wait. I need to make sure someone can take care of my son before I go anywhere.”
Detective Elkins looked over my shoulder at James, then locked eyes with me. When he spoke, his tone was measured. “Don’t keep me waiting long, McNair.”
“I don’t plan to.”
There was at least one soul I could still trust—a pillar of strength in my time of need. As the protesters cussed at me from afar and Detective Elkins stared me down with venomous disapproval, I scooped James into my arms and paced across the graveyard to make a call that was long overdue.
“Hello?” A familiar female voice chirped in my ear when the call connected. The sound parted the darkness in my soul like the beam of a lighthouse breaking through heavy fog.
“Hey, Amanda, it’s Clara.” I closed my eyes and prayed Amanda’s private Facebook message to me had been sincere. “I know this is sudden, but you did say I could call on you if I needed anything. I need to ask you a huge favor…”
I watched Amanda Harwood duck around the traffic barricades and jog to my side. Her blonde hair was swept up into a messy ponytail, fastened high atop her head. It swished back and forth with every rapid step she took, marking her progress like a metronome. Ten years had aged her face in subtle ways, but time had been kind to my once best friend. She was still as breathtakingly pretty as when we were teenagers.
“Clara!” Amanda gasped when she was within comfortable speaking distance. She swept me into her arms in the next second and held me tight, and I circled my arms around her, letting my head rest on her shoulder. The ocean breeze Amanda had been so fond of when we were teenagers had been replaced with a scent far more mature and sophisticated; it suited her—complex, yet playful.
Her embrace brought down my tension. We hadn’t done a good job at keeping in touch over the years, but my subconscious instantly ushered her back into my life as the sister I’d never had.
Between true friends, time and distance mean nothing at all. She was older, and she held herself with the pride of a woman instead of the uncertainty of a girl but, to me, she was still Amanda.
From the way she held me, it was clear she felt the same.
“You have no idea how much I missed you,” I whispered into her ear.
Detective Elkins watched us, and so did Samuel. While Detective Elkins was watching me, Samuel was eating up Amanda. The blatant interest made me uncomfortable, so I closed my eyes and focused on Amanda’s caring embrace.
“I’m so sorry to call you like this, but… things have sort of come up, and I need some help.”
“No, I totally understand.” Amanda released me, keeping hold of my arms. She ran her thumbs in soothing arcs, stroking my skin. “God, it’s good to see you. I didn’t think we’d ever meet again.”
“I wasn’t sure we would, either.”
“This isn’t teatime, ladies,” Detective Elkins barked from where he stood. “McNair, now that your babysitter’s here, you need to come with me. If your plan is to chitchat until the morgue closes, it’s not going to work. It’s time to go.”
Amanda took a step back, dropping my arms; her wide eyes searching my gaze for answers. “Morgue? Clara, what’s going on?”
I took in a grounding breath and prepared myself to share what I’d just learned. “Bones have been found on the McNair estate. The police think they might be my parents.”
Amanda covered her mouth with her hand and shook her head slowly in disbelief. When the shock lessened, she glared at Detective Elkins, then looked back at me. “Don’t let him get to you, honey, no matter what’s happened. He’s doing his best to tear you down, like always, but you need to stay strong.”
“I’m trying.”
“And you can keep trying down at the morgue.” Detective Elkins stepped forward, wedging himself between us.
The intrusion raised the hairs on the back of my neck, and I balled my fists instinctively. Who was he to make demands like that while I was going through such a hard time?
“It’s like I said, Clara. Keep strong. You’ve got this.” Amanda acted as though Detective Elkins wasn’t there, stepping around him so she could make eye contact with me. In the early morning light, the greens of her irises were muted, gray. They matched the distant peaks of the Blue Ridge Mountains, shadowed by forests and only now kissed by sunrise. She held my hand, and I felt the rage dissipate. “I know firsthand the pain you’re feeling right now, but that means I also know that no matter how bad life gets, you can get through it as long as you let love into your heart. You’ve got this, Clara.”
“Touching, ladies.” Detective Elkins trudged toward me, his arms crossed loosely over his chest. “But touching isn’t doing anyone any favors. McNair and I have serious business to attend to, and the sooner we get to it, the better.”
I glanced at Detective Elkins.
Amanda offered me a reassuring smile and patted my arm. “I don’t know how much trouble you’re in,” she whispered, “but I know you’re going to see this thing through. I believe in you.”
“Before I go, there are some things you need to know about James.” I looked to the director’s chair. During the wait, James had fallen back asleep. Early morning sunlight bathed his short hair and turned it rich brown. Shadows cast from the bridge of his nose darkened half of his face. He slept so soundly that, for a minute, it was easy to believe nothing was wrong. “There’s a chance while he’s with you he’ll lose control of the muscles of his face, or have problems moving his eyes. He might be sick to his stomach. For the last month he’s been on an upswing, but it could come back at any time. I just want you to know if his condition worsens it’s not your fault.”
Sympathy clouded Amanda’s face. “Clara… I remember reading your posts on Facebook about James’s health, but I had no idea—”
“It’s okay.” There was so much more I wanted to tell her, but with Detective Elkins hovering nearby and Samuel eying Aman
da like she was the sugar his sweet tooth needed, I couldn’t. That conversation would have to wait. “He’s why I’m here; he’s the reason I found the courage to come back. He’s a fighter, and I’m going to fight for him, too. I just need you to know if something happens, we’re aware, and there’s nothing we—or you—can do, except ride it out until it passes. Not right now. All I ask is you let him sleep when he needs it, and make sure he stays hydrated. He needs foods with high caloric content, but without trans fats. Peanut butter—spread real thin— soft cheese, mashed avocado and milk—”
“Avocado?” Amanda interrupted. “Will mashed bananas be okay? It’s just the cost—”
“Sure,” I hurried on, embarrassed I didn’t consider her situation wouldn’t have improved since we were kids. “The doctors want him to graze throughout the day if at all possible. I understand if you can’t stick too close to the routine, since it’s so last minute, but—”
“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure he has what he needs,” Amanda promised. Understanding lay thick between us. Our friendship still ran deep. “But at the same time, I want to make sure I’m taking care of you, too. If you need anything at all, call me up and let me know, okay? I’ll be there for you as soon as I can.”
I gave them one last look, letting the sight of my son asleep on the director’s chair crystallize in my memory before I stepped toward him and set a hand on his shoulder. He stirred from his sleep and looked up at me with heavily lidded eyes. “Mama?”
“Hey, baby,” I whispered, “I’ve got to go take care of some business, so I’m going to leave you with my best friend in the whole world, Amanda. Do you think you can be good for her?”
I lifted James from the chair and took him over to meet Amanda. She curled her fingers in a wave and winked at him, and James yawned and nestled against my chest. “Okay.”
“We’re going to have fun.” Amanda came a little closer, her smile easy and her eyes softened with affection. “Okay, bud?”
James said nothing, but he didn’t argue when I held him out to Amanda and she took him into her arms. Seconds later, he’d fallen back to sleep. I knew everything was going to be okay.
“I’ll follow you in my car,” I told Detective Elkins. I refused to be dependent on him—I didn’t trust anyone in this town to want to do me any favors.
“If you run, I will find you.”
“I know.” I stood taller, refusing to let him get to me. Even though everything that could go wrong was going wrong, I wasn’t going to let it stop me from doing what I needed to do. I would make this documentary, no matter what. “I’m not running, detective.” The sooner I came face-to-face with my past, the sooner I could prove my innocence.
“We have that in common, then.” Detective Elkins nodded his chin toward the line of parked production cars. Mine was parked there, and I assumed his was, too. “Let’s get going. I’m not interested in wasting anymore time.”
“Neither am I.”
3
The drive to the morgue gave me the time I needed to pull my thoughts together. Hands clutched tight to the steering wheel, eyes on the horizon, I tried to come to terms with what I was about to witness.
Ten years. Ten long years, my parents had been missing. I’d always known the chance they’d turn up out of the blue was slim, but to hear they were dead—their remains had been discovered—shook me in a way I hadn’t been prepared for. The illusion that somewhere, somehow, they were safe was shattered. The small sliver of hope I’d held in my heart was plucked out, and the space it left behind bled.
They were gone—truly gone—and now I had to confront that head-on.
Tears stung the corners of my eyes, and I blinked them away. Bones? Such a simple word. But I was stunned to think they could be all that was left of the people I’d once loved. People who’d cared for me and sheltered me even when I’d been less than excellent to them. It shook me. Coming back had been my only choice, and I’d returned with my head held high.
Now?
At that point, I could barely stand the idea that the decade-old mystery of what had become of my parents was resolved, even though there was no other possible outcome. Deep down, I’d always known my parents were dead, but confronting the facts was harder than living in fantasy.
I couldn’t lose myself in make-believe any longer.
Detective Elkins turned into the parking lot at the morgue. A singular silver Acura was parked a fair distance from the door. Detective Elkins parked next to it, and I pulled in a space over.
This was it.
I drew a deep breath and took the keys from the ignition. Behind the brick walls of the building in front of me was the reality I’d been running from. Hickory Hills had its claws on me, and it wasn’t about to let me go.
The seatbelt snapped back into place behind my shoulder. I opened the car door and stepped out to find Detective Elkins circling his vehicle, hands in his pockets, shoulders back. The silver in his hair glinted in the sunlight. Had it not been for the stern look and the ice in his eyes, he might have been attractive, but time had shaped our relationship in such a way that I couldn’t see past his distrustful gaze.
“Let’s go, McNair.” He led the way to the front door, holding it open for me. I passed him, entering the lobby.
The room was small, only large enough for a few plastic waiting room chairs. The white tile floor shone, immaculately clean, and the pale blue paint on the walls looked recently done. On the wall immediately across from the front door was a reinforced glass pane, behind which sat a young woman with fiery red hair. Her eyes were down when I stepped through the door, but as Detective Elkins made his way into the lobby, she looked up. Through thick, horn-rimmed glasses, she examined us and nodded politely.
Detective Elkins nodded back. He stepped forward to talk to her, back to me, while I let myself adjust to my new surroundings. Though the lobby was clean, there was a smell in the air like bleach and something else—something subtly noxious and chemical—that left me feeling uncomfortable. It settled in my bones and crept beneath my skin, raising the hair on my arms.
Was it the smell of death?
I didn’t want to think about it. With James’s health in decline, it hit too close to home. Had I lost my parents?
The red-headed girl behind the glass pane leaned over to look at me from around Detective Elkins. I noticed her movement and met her gaze. A flash of surprise and embarrassment widened her eyes, and she ducked back behind Detective Elkins’s frame to continue their conversation. He spoke to her in low tones I couldn’t hear, but I didn’t need to hear the words he said to know the topic at hand. Not after the way she’d looked at me.
If his goal was to make me feel vulnerable, it wasn’t working.
“All right, McNair.” Detective Elkins pushed away from the glass pane separating us from the woman manning the front desk. “We have clearance to go in. Are you ready?”
“Yes.”
The woman at the desk was no longer sitting where she’d been just moments before. The door near the reception desk clicked, then swung open. I glimpsed the woman on the other side, but she dodged my eye.
“We’re meeting with Dr. Nash downstairs.” Detective Elkins led the way, heading through the door without hesitation. He walked with confidence I tried to emulate, but couldn’t quite pull off. A short hallway with several doors ended in a staircase dipping down into the bowels of the building. “He’s been examining the remains since they were recovered this morning.”
What was I supposed to say to that? Numb, I followed down the stairs. The chemical smell grew stronger, tingling at the back of my nose and fogging my head. If Detective Elkins smelled it, he didn’t let on.
“You ever been in a morgue, McNair?”
“I wish you’d stop calling me that.” He was doing it on purpose, just like the last time our paths had crossed. The constant utterance of my surname was meant to get under my skin and remind me I wasn’t a person to him—I was a job. A name. A danger.
But I was older and wiser. It shouldn’t have bothered me as much as it did. “My name is Clara.”
Detective Elkins chuckled. I received no other reply.
At the bottom of the stairs, he directed me down a small hall lit by overhead panel lights. White tile shone here, too, as though the dead cared for cleanliness. We passed a set of doors, one on either side of the hall, before Detective Elkins came to a stop and politely knocked on door 103. He tested the handle. The door opened. He looked over his shoulder and nodded toward the doorway as if to invite me through. The last thing I wanted was to be the first inside, knowing who—and what—waited for me, but there was no way I could refuse.
I drew in a breath so deep my lungs ached, then let it out and stepped through the door into the examination room.
I’d never been to a morgue before, and I wasn’t sure what to expect. The examination room was small and kept just as clean as the rest of the building, but the chemical smell was thicker here. Stainless steel countertops stretched along the back wall, supported by cabinets kept under lock and key. The countertops were devoid of clutter. I noticed several large metal trays stacked, clean and empty.
But what drew my eye wasn’t the room’s tidy counters or the state of the tile. In the middle of the room, its wheels locked into place, was a metal-topped examination table covered by a plastic sheet. A man stood by the table, a clear shower cap snapped over his brown hair and a blue surgical mask stretched over his nose and mouth. Blue scrubs hid his lanky body, but I could tell by the way the fabric billowed that he was slender. When we entered, he was crouching over the examination table.
“Good morning, Dr. Nash.” Detective Elkins brushed by me, taking the lead.
I’d be lying if I said I didn’t consider running. The door was open, Detective Elkins was distracted, and I knew what Dr. Nash was examining on that table. But running wasn’t an option. Not with the documentary. My only chance to get James the medical assistance he needed was to see the documentary through, and I wouldn’t allow myself to sabotage that process, no matter how uncomfortable I felt. Or how much Detective Elkins pushed me.
