by Becky Durfee
“And now you know.”
“Well…” she replied with a grimace. “It’s different when it’s your own, let me put it that way.”
“You make it sound like it’s different in a bad way.”
She thought about how she wanted to word it. “It’s a lot harder when it’s your kid. When it’s your niece or nephew, you can love on them and play with them and spoil them, and then you can give them back and go home and sleep through the night. When it’s your own, you are constantly on duty. I think it’s the fact that it’s a twenty-four hour job that makes it hard.”
“I thought you had asked your mom to help you.”
“I did,” Jenny replied, “so you’re right. It’s like I have a twenty-two hour work day with no days off.” She tilted her head in his direction. “But I imagine you know how that feels.”
He looked distant as he nodded. “Yup. Sure do.”
She resumed her original position. “And just knowing there’s no end in sight…that makes it even harder.”
“That’s the worst part.”
Jenny remained quiet for a moment, deciding that the best way she could gain Mick’s trust was to make herself vulnerable. She took a deep breath and prepared to expose a nerve. “I realize there are a lot of women out there who like being a new mom—love it, even—and I honestly believed I was going to be one of them. There wasn’t a doubt in my mind that this baby was going to be the best thing that would ever happen to me. But when he came along, it was so much different than I thought it was going to be. This feels like work. Constant, non-stop, every-minute-of-every-day work.” She shook her head. “If I’m going to be totally honest with myself, I actually hate being a mom. I wish I could undo it.” She turned to Mick. “Isn’t that awful?”
He shrugged. “Not necessarily.”
His short answer made Jenny wonder if she was barking up the wrong tree, talking about motherhood with a single, childless man. However, she knew she had a point to prove, so she continued. “I feel like I can tell you that, but I don’t feel like I can say that to any other moms for fear of what they may think of me. Or any other woman, for that matter. I mean, if a woman had told me last year that she hated being a mother and she felt indifferent toward her baby, I would have thought she was a monster. I would have drawn the conclusion that she didn’t deserve a baby if that was her attitude.” She lowered her head. “I guess that just goes to show that you should never judge someone until you’ve walked a mile in their shoes.”
Mick didn’t say anything.
Jenny remained undeterred. “Do you know the craziest part? I have visions of killing people. When I try to sleep at night, I have these horrible images of strangling women or bludgeoning sleeping men with a rock…and yet, I don’t find that as upsetting as dealing with this baby. I think it’s because I can do something about the visions. They provide me with something to investigate, and I know that, ultimately, once the issue gets resolved, the spirit will move on. With the baby, I feel completely helpless. He cries and cries and cries, and I have no idea why. No matter what I do, it doesn’t seem to help. And there’s no end in sight to this. I’m going to be dealing with this tomorrow and the next day and the next day…I feel like I’m not going to sleep soundly for the next eighteen years.”
“I know how that goes,” Mick muttered.
“I know you do,” Jenny said. “And for you, it’s worse. At least for me there’s an end, even if it is almost two decades away.”
He simply nodded.
She remained quiet for a while, contemplating the fact that she and Mick were both dealing with situations beyond their control. He may have chosen to join the military, and she was happy when she found out she was pregnant, but at this point they were both at the mercy of repercussions they didn’t anticipate. In that regard, she felt like they were united in an unfortunate bond.
“Do you think it would help if there was something you could do about your dreams…just like I can about my visions?”
He shook his head. “These aren’t just dreams; they’re memories. I can’t change what happened.”
“I know you can’t. I can’t either, with respect to the visions. But I can act on them…try to turn them into something positive.”
“There’s no way I can take what I did and make it positive.”
Jenny furrowed her brow; the word choice wasn’t lost on her. “What you did?”
Mick closed his eyes. “I need a hit.”
Jenny didn’t understand what he meant at first, until he reached over to his nightstand and pulled out his bowl and bag of weed.
She glanced over to her baby, sleeping soundly in his car seat, and thoughts of second-hand smoke swirled around her head. “Just one?” she asked hopefully.
“One long one.”
Her foot started to bob nervously. Perhaps one smoky exhale wouldn’t be too bad. She scratched her head, silently wishing he would finish up quickly.
He packed the bowl and then lit it as he inhaled; it was, indeed, a long hit.
Leaning his head back and closing his eyes while he exhaled, he seemed to relax almost instantly. He set the bowl down on the nightstand, noting, “That’s better.”
Jenny was eager to pursue what he meant when he talked about what he did, but she didn’t want to push too far. Clearing her throat nervously, she softly asked, “You have regrets?”
He nodded, closing his eyes again. “Big time.”
She reached over and gently slid her hand into his, giving it a subtle squeeze. “What happened?”
Without opening his eyes, Mick whispered, “I killed two people.”
Jenny’s breath caught; this was news to her. Perhaps seeing his friend die wasn’t the only atrocity he’d endured. “It was war,” she noted softly.
“They still had mothers.” Sadness engulfed Mick’s face, although he wasn’t tearful. He appeared as if he was beyond tears.
Looking over at the baby again, Jenny put herself in the unimaginable position of those two women. “You know,” she began slowly, “if I lost my son in a war, I wouldn’t blame the people who killed him. Those people were just doing their jobs. I would blame the people who sent him to war in the first place. I would blame the people whose actions started the war…”
“No matter who you blame, they’re still dead.” His blue eyes opened and meet hers. “And I shot them.”
“If you didn’t shoot them, they may have shot you.”
“Sometimes I think that would have been better.”
Jenny’s heart sank. “Oh, Mick, don’t say that.”
“It’s true. You said yourself that Rodriguez has it better than me.”
For a moment, Jenny feared that Mick might ultimately end up enduring the same fate as Aiden. “I said that only because of the shitty deal life has handed you since you’ve gotten back. You have the potential to do great things, you know. And that’s what Rodriguez wants for you. He told me so.”
Mick turned away, signaling that Rodriguez was a subject he was unwilling to discuss at the moment.
Changing her tactic, Jenny asked, “Can I share something with you?”
After an apathetic shrug, Mick said, “Go ahead.”
“I want to tell you a little bit about the other man who has been contacting me.”
“The murderer?”
“His name is Aiden,” she said definitively. “And while, yes, he killed people, I don’t feel right about calling him a murderer. To me, that term should be reserved for sickos who enjoy inflicting pain on people. This guy, on the other hand, was mentally ill. Do you know why he killed his victims?”
Mick shook his head.
“He feared for his own life. He sincerely believed that they were out to get him—that if he didn’t kill them, they would have killed him. I realize those people weren’t a threat to Aiden, not really. But in his mind, the threat was viable, and a person’s perception is their reality. Now, for you,” she added, “the threat was real. Very real. In
any case, I don’t consider either of you to be murderers. I see both of you as being victims of circumstance.”
As if a switch had been flicked, the baby suddenly started to scream. “That’s my cue,” Jenny said as she let go of Mick’s hand and scooted off the bed. By the time she was able to get Steve out of his harness, he was nearly inconsolable.
She began pacing with him around the room, bouncing her arms and saying, “Shhh.” After a couple of minutes and various efforts on Jenny’s part, the baby continued to wail.
“Wow, he really does cry, huh?” Mick noted.
“Tell me about it.” She shifted the fussing infant to her other shoulder. To make matters worse, Jenny’s phone began to ring from inside her purse. Balancing the baby with one hand, she squatted down and pulled the phone out, noting an unfamiliar number. She managed an impatient, “Hello?”
“Hi.” The voice on the other end belonged to an apprehensive woman. “I’m calling because I saw a flyer…actually, my cousin did, but she sent it to me. It said that if I recognized the woman in the sketch, I should call this number?” She said it more like a question than a statement.
“Yes,” Jenny said excitedly, suddenly feeling guilty for being so blunt when she answered. “That’s right. Do you know who that woman was?”
“I believe I do,” she replied.
Jenny held her breath.
“I think it’s my mother.”
Chapter 15
If sheer will could have made the baby more cooperative, he would have quieted down instantly. Instead, Jenny continued to juggle him and the phone as she asked, “She was your mother?”
“Yes,” the woman replied. “I was going to ask what this was about, but I have the feeling I already know. You keep referring to her in the past tense.”
Jenny was trying to focus, but the screaming was eating her brain. Suddenly, the picture clicked into place, and regret over her word choice consumed her. “Oh my gosh, I-I-I’m sorry.” She closed her eyes. “You didn’t know?”
“Not officially, but it doesn’t surprise me.”
“I’m so sorry,” Jenny repeated.
“How did it happen?”
The baby let out a burp, which finally made him quiet. Although she was able to concentrate for the first time, Jenny still struggled over what to say. “She was murdered, I’m afraid.”
“Sounds about right.” The woman seemed remarkably unfazed. “When did it happen?”
“I-I-I don’t know. It’s been at least a year-and-a-half.”
“A year-and-a-half? Why are you just now putting up a flyer? Did you just find her body?”
Jenny chose her words carefully. “We had a confession, actually. The picture is based on the description provided by the perpetrator. We looked into unsolved murders and missing persons cases, but nobody matching her description was on file anywhere. That’s why we resorted to a flyer...to figure out her identity.”
A silence ensued, followed by the woman asking, “So, does this mean you haven’t actually found her body?”
The horrible truth was unfolding right before Jenny’s eyes. “No,” she admitted, “I guess this means they haven’t.”
Jenny sat in her own recliner, nursing the baby while Zack was out collecting back the flyers he had put up just a few hours earlier. With some handwritten notes on a piece of paper from the hotel, Jenny filled Kyle in on the latest.
“The victim’s name was apparently Heather Bowes, and she would have been around forty-five, give or take, at the time of the murder. She lived in Oakton, so her attack must have happened sometime after Aiden moved back to Tennessee. According to the daughter, Heather battled drugs for decades leading up to the attack. Heather and her husband had divorced when their children were rather young, and the father maintained custody of the kids. Heather was apparently pretty good about visitation in the beginning, but as the years went on, she became increasingly unreliable. She would show up at the wrong time, or on the wrong day, or sometimes not at all. When she did make an appearance, her behavior grew more and more peculiar, which led the father to explain to the kids that their mother had a heroin addiction. It had been the reason behind the divorce to begin with, a notion he tried to keep from the children as long as possible. But once Heather’s behavior became so erratic, he felt the need to let the kids know that they were not to blame for what was happening, but rather the drugs had turned their mother into a different person.
“The daughter said she hasn’t seen her mother in about five years,” Jenny continued. “She was only sixteen the last time they saw each other. She thinks it was right around that time that Heather officially became homeless, and she imagined her mother had resorted to the typical means for making drug money on the streets.”
“Sad,” Kyle noted, although his tone remained neutral.
“I know,” Jenny agreed, “but the daughter took the news rather well. I think she’d come to terms with her mother’s fate years ago.”
“News…” Kyle said. “Hearing about her mother’s death was news?”
“Yeah, that surprised me, too. I’m afraid I may not have handled that situation very tactfully.”
“Well, I imagine your tact was the least of her worries if she was just now finding out that her mother was dead.”
“Like I said, I think the conversation was more of a confirmation of what she had already suspected. I don’t really think I dropped a bomb on her or anything.”
“But you’re dropping a bit of a bomb on me. Considering that the daughter didn’t know, Heather wasn’t associated with any unsolved murders, she wasn’t a Jane Doe and there was no missing persons report on her, that leads me to believe her body hasn’t been found yet.”
“I was just about to tell you that,” Jenny replied. “It seems Aiden has to clue me in on more than just what happened this time…he needs to let me know where she is.”
“So far he hasn’t?”
“Nope. I just got that one vision of him beating and strangling her outdoors, and that could have been anywhere. As far as where her body might be now? I have no idea.”
“I guess we just have to play the waiting game now,” Kyle noted.
Jenny let out a grunt of displeasure. “I hate that game.”
She was having a difficult time sleeping. Even though she was exhausted, Jenny’s mind kept her awake, thinking about how pivotal the next day would be for Mick. Having not made the plans herself, she hoped everything would go smoothly—and not backfire. The last thing she needed was for the opposite of the desired effect to come true.
Sleep, she thought to herself. This is getting you nowhere. Zack’s rhythmic breathing next to her invoked an undeniable sense of jealousy, especially considering he wasn’t about to be woken up in an hour for a feeding. She looked at the clock. Time was ticking by. She needed to get some rest.
Breathing deeply, she made a concerted effort to relax her body. She freed her mind of any thought, trying to make sleep come on a little easier.
She saw Heather’s lifeless body before her. Hide it. The voice echoed between her ears. Hide it good, so they don’t figure out you did this and come after you.
She looked around at the wooded area in front of her. Brown leaves littered the ground, a sign that winter was coming…but also a convenient means to cover the body so no one would find it.
She dragged the body further, too tired to carry it anymore. Looking up, she saw the remnants of a stone wall cutting through the trees. It looked centuries old. That’s a good spot, the voice commanded. Up against that wall.
Jenny dug to the best of her ability with her hands, but the ground was hard. Stupid asshole. Dig faster.
She hated when the voice called her names. She already felt like she was working as hard as she possibly could. Do you want them to find you? Hurry up!
Taking a seat on the wall, Jenny looked at the shallow hole she had dug. This was going to have to do. She couldn’t risk the others finding her. After a quick break, sh
e rolled Heather’s body into the ditch and covered it with dirt and leaves. Looking around for a moment, she gathered her bearings and then headed out in the direction that she came.
Jenny’s eyes opened. While the vision hadn’t told her exactly where the body was, it was a start. She wondered if there was a record anywhere of old structures, including walls, that might help narrow down the location.
She glanced at the clock. Forty-five minutes had passed. She wondered how long she had before the baby would get her out of bed.
A series of snorts through the baby monitor let her know the answer to her question was ‘not long.’
Chapter 16
Jenny’s heart raced as she pushed the stroller across the hotel lobby toward the meeting room. She could see a small group of people standing around inside, but none of them looked familiar. As she entered the room, she scanned each face until she noticed a much-heavier John standing off in the corner.
“Hey, Jenny,” John said with a big smile as she approached.
Unable to contain herself, she greeted him with a hug. “John, my goodness, you look so different! You’ve gained weight.” Considering he had once been frightfully thin due to his drug usage, this comment was meant as a compliment.
Releasing the embrace, he smiled sheepishly in return. “Yeah, I feel good,” he said with a nod. “Like I said, it’s not easy…probably never will be…but one day at a time, right?”
“That’s all we can ask for.” She looked around the room. “I can’t believe how many people you were able to get here.”
“Everyone was glad to help,” he replied, “and Kyle was amazing. Every time you gave me a name, all I had to do was call him and he’d get back to me within the hour with a phone number.”
“He’s great, isn’t he? I couldn’t do what I do without him.”
After brief introductions to everyone in the room, Jenny once again turned to John. “This is fantastic. I swear, if this doesn’t work, nothing will. You did an awesome job.”
