by D R Sanford
It no longer beckoned to him. Actually, the house looked more like the remains of a sunken fishing boat he once discovered when snorkeling in the Caribbean. Echoes of the past seemed to emanate from that vessel, speaking volumes to the lives and toil spent on its decks.
Cullen could not imagine a future inside those walls.
“Are you ready to go inside, Cullen?” His mother reached across the car seats, placing her hand in his. “It's getting cold out here.”
Cullen blinked away the memories and cleared his throat. “I'm sorry, Mom. How long have we been sitting in the driveway?”
“Not long, maybe a few minutes. Look, we don't have to go in if you don't want to.”
He considered the familiar cars out front. Squeezing Erin's hand, he flashed a plastic smile and reached for the door handle.
“I think if I'm able to make it in the house without passing out I'll be able to face Nora's family.”
Carefully, Cullen boosted himself from the seat and made his way around the outside of his mother's sedan. She met him at the trunk and gingerly led him toward the back yard screen porch.
Having planned to enter through the porch and back door, they pulled up short when they saw the entrance. Wrapped in crime scene tape, missing half its frame, most of the window, and powdered in black fingerprint dust, it denied their entry.
Erin sighed next to him.
“I'm sorry, Cullen. I... I didn't know this was closed up. I should have stopped in the front. Let's walk around, okay buddy?”
Cullen let her steer him around the corner, back down the driveway.
“You haven't called me buddy since I was a little boy.”
His mother's arm tightened around his waist.
“You're still my little buddy, Cullen. I just let you grow out of the name.”
“Don't get me wrong, I kind of like it. Those were some good times.”
She stopped, looking at him quizzically.
“Really? I seem to remember you complaining about having to grow up globe hopping while I chased the next research paper.”
“It wasn't the travel I remember disliking. I just wanted more time with you.”
Erin held his gaze for a moment, ran a finger along his jaw line.
“You grew up so fast. Before I knew it you were walking, running, sassing me, riding a bike, and then a car. That's why I took the position here, so I could make sure you had a chance to grow roots of your own.”
“I love you, Mom. I wouldn't change a thing.”
“I love you too, buddy. So, do we walk through the front door or make a run for it?”
Cullen managed a weak smile and wished away the swelling ache in his head.
“Unfortunately there isn't anywhere to run to. I would still be there.”
“I would give anything to spare you this, Cullen.”
“I know. Look, I'm getting sort of tired. Can we get on with this?”
They rounded the front corner of the house and made for the front door.
Nora's mother, Jean, swung the door wide open and smothered Cullen in her embrace. A petite woman, he had to bend over in order to accommodate her arms around his neck.
“Oh, Cullen. Why would anyone want to take my little girl?”
The Nelsons had welcomed him seven years ago like he was one of their own. He could not meet Jean’s eyes, shaking tears away that clouded his sight.
“I have no idea, Jean. It's all I could think about since last night. It doesn't make any sense.”
He pulled her close again and glanced over her head, connecting with the haunted gaze of his father-in-law.
To Howard he could only mouth the words, “I'm so sorry.”
Howard stepped forward and guided Jean and Cullen into the foyer. He did not speak a word. Cullen longed for a break in the uncomfortable silence as he scanned the lower level of their modest home.
Neighbors sat, gathered around the dining table to his right. Ladies in chairs, their husbands standing behind. To the left, in the living room, extended family huddled on any surface they could find; cushions, chair arms, even the floor.
His young niece and nephew charged out of the living room, screaming toward the kitchen in a dispute over which could play with Grandpa’s cell phone.
Drifting back to the staircase before him, Cullen saw Nora's sisters sitting on the steps. Natalie sat with her forehead buried in the crook of Nadine's shoulder, her dark hair obscuring the freckled cheeks he knew lay beneath.
Nadine, the oldest of the three sisters and mother of the fraternal twin tornadoes running through his house. She edged away and raised to her feet.
Oh God, she looked so much like Nora. For a breath he was transported back to last night, his futile struggle to stop her from being dragged down the stairs, out into the night.
She pinned him down with her eyes and somehow managed to ratchet up his discomfort level. Was that displaced anger or accusation in her eyes? Perhaps he was just the most convenient target. He couldn’t blame her really. Cullen felt the same way about himself.
Natalie looked up, sniffling into a wad of tissues, mascara streaming down her cheeks. The youngest of the three sisters, she had just graduated high school last June and enrolled in Cullen's Intro to Anthropology course in the fall. He knew her since she was twelve and considered her to be the little sister he'd never had.
Just when Cullen feared he would burst from trying to hold in the shared grief swimming in the house, a small hand tugged on his wrist. He looked down to find his four-year old nephew straining for his attention.
“Hi Henry, how's my little superhero?”
“I'm not a superhero any more, Uncle Cullen,” he squeaked. “Now I'm a 'struction worker.”
“Sorry, little dude. I didn't get the memo.”
“He doesn't like to be called dude, Uncle Cullen!”
Emma appeared at Howard's waist, her arms wrapped around his leg. She was always the enforcer, taking her opportunity to defend or terrorize her brother as she saw fit.
Cullen reached up to his aching brow, wishing for more of the prescription narcotics that dripped in and out of his system overnight.
“Again, I'm sorry. What's on your mind, Henry?”
“Uncle Cullen,” he began inquisitively, “Why did my dad say, ‘if you were a real man you would have pulled the trigger and let the police sort it out’?”
Dumbfounded, Cullen searched the living room until he found his brother-in-law's shocked face.
Nadine shouted, “Steve, come on now!”
“I, uh, hey, everybody's thinking it,” her husband replied in a lame attempt to cover his tracks. Reproachful grumbling issued from all corners of the house.
She stepped down and apologized for him, saying, “I'm sorry, Cullen. Nobody is thinking that. And believe me, right now, Steve is nobody.”
Her words said one thing, but her crossed arms spoke loud and clear.
Cullen's mother raised her voice and addressed the congregation, attempting to disarm the situation.
“Everybody is sorry. That is the theme of the day isn't it? Let's not forget that we're all family here, and Cullen is feeling this as keenly as anyone else.”
Silence. No one dared to speak the next word.
And with that he muttered, “I'll be in the kitchen.”
Cullen sidled through the crowd in the dining room and was grateful for the relative solitude of the kitchen. It must have been around the same time yesterday morning when he and Nora were laughing and dancing.
As he reached into a cupboard and poured a glass of water from the faucet, he noticed someone clanking around in the refrigerator.
The voice of a stranger interrupted his reverie, dragging Cullen into the present.
“Everybody’s going organic now, aren’t they? How can a regular guy afford it?”
“Excuse me?” Cullen turned and tried to place where he knew the man leaning on the refrigerator.
“Oh, it’s nothing. I’m probably jus
t jealous. My fridge is full of beer cans and condiments while the pantry is packed with boxes of food set to expire the day after the world ends.”
Nothing came to mind. Cullen was pretty sure he was not a neighbor. A man with his features would be hard to forget. A few inches over six feet and built like a freight train, he was rather intimidating up close. Add to that the crooked, flattened nose, cauliflower ear, and gleaming dome. The whole package unsettled Cullen.
The stranger flashed a smile and held out a skillet sized hand to break the ice. “Sorry, my name is Detective Walker. I thought I would hang around here rather than bother you in the hospital. You are Cullen Houltersund, correct?”
Cullen crossed the kitchen, losing his hand inside the other’s grip.
“I am. Who let you in, anyhow? And how long have you been looking through my kitchen?”
Walker jerked a thumb toward the front of the house.
“The older sister answered the door about an hour ago. Nadine, right? Hope you don’t mind. I was trying to stay out of the way.”
Cullen waved a dismissive hand.
“Of course, not a problem. So, what can I help you with, officer?”
“Detective.”
“Excuse me? Oh, sorry, please tell me you have some good news for me, detective.”
Cullen looked expectantly but saw nothing hopeful on the other’s face.
Walker broke eye contact, reached up, and pawed his hairless skull.
“I wish there was something positive for me to report, Mr. Houltersund. We posted a BOLO following the vehicle description we received from Mrs. Whittenberg for the entire state of Wisconsin. But we haven’t had any good leads yet.”
“What is a BOLO?”
“Yeah, that’s a police acronym for Be On the Look Out. Last I checked, local and state authorities had pulled over somewhere in the neighborhood of forty-seven late model, black SUV’s. No luck so far.”
Cullen’s heart sank. Not that he expected good news so soon, but they sure could use it.
Walker’s voice sounded like he’d been gargling with gravel and chasing it with cheap whiskey. Dressed in a rumpled suit and an overcoat tucked under his left arm, the detective appeared to have been up all night. Cullen guessed the man was in his late forties but could easily be five years younger.
Cullen sank back into the countertop and looked at the tops of his snow boots.
“So what’s next, detective?”
“That is why I’m here, actually. I will be working the case and wanted to introduce myself. Also, if you don’t mind, there are a few questions I’d like to ask you.”
“Sure. I’ll help in any way I can.”
“Is there somewhere we can speak in private?”
Cullen glanced up and craned his neck to take in the somber gathering on the rest of the first floor. He considered going upstairs to one of the bedrooms, but that was personal space.
“I guess. But, unless you want to share a half-bath the size of a wardrobe I’d suggest we go out to the garage.”
“Fine by me. After waiting inside with that crowd for the last hour, I could use some air.”
Closing the distance between them, Cullen reached for the garage door opener on the window sill and pressed the button. He watched the door rise and reflected on Nora’s footsteps that he had erased when blowing the snow away last night.
“Follow me, please.”
Walker shrugged into his overcoat and Cullen worked around the detective’s bulk, into the mud room. Stopped in his tracks upon seeing what was left of the back door.
If he had just pulled the trigger. Everything would be different, he thought.
“Shit. Excuse my French. Let me take care of that.” Walker squeezed by and peeled off the crime-scene tape along the door jamb. The door groaned as he pulled it in, waving Cullen ahead.
Pushing last night to a distance and closing his eyes, Cullen passed over the threshold. The bite of winter air hit him. He stuffed his hands in the pockets of the fleece he wore, then shouldered through the porch’s screen door.
Inside the two-car garage were Cullen’s black compact sedan and the red SUV Nora had abandoned in her haste to reach the house. The driver’s door was still open. The battery must have died, because there was no overhead light glowing inside.
Cullen leaned against the passenger side of his car and faced the detective once more. He was a little surprised when Walker settled his weight against Nora’s car.
“Excuse me, but isn’t that car part of the investigation?”
The detective casually closed the driver’s door and shook his head.
“Nothing happened to Nora while she was in it. Odds are very low we’d get any evidence from it.”
“What about fingerprints around the door? Maybe they tried to get into it while she was at work.”
Pursing his lips and shaking his head again the other responded, “Not likely. Now, as I said, I have some questions for you, if you don’t mind. I hate to rush, but there is a mountain of paperwork screaming my name, and I can’t get started without your official statement.”
As Cullen nodded assent, Walker reached into his coat pocket, producing a notepad and hard candies. “Would you like one? No?”
He popped both candies in his mouth, dropped the wrappers in his front pocket and flipped open the notepad.
“So, tell me everything you can remember about what happened last night.”
Cullen recounted the night in its entirety, slipping back into the fear of the home invasion and the agonizing jolt of the taser. Choking on his final memory of Nora being dragged down the stairs, he looked up and found the detective scribbling notes, rolling candies around in his cheek pockets.
Shrugging against the cold, Cullen sucked a deep breath past clenched teeth and continued, “I tried to fight, you have to believe me. There was nothing I could do.
“They carried Nora out the front door, and I lost consciousness after I was tased the second time. The next thing I knew, there were two paramedics leaning over me.”
“How are you holding up?”
“Not well, obviously. I just don’t understand what’s going on. This is, uh, surreal.”
“Who do you think would do something like this?”
“How would I know?” Cullen looked incredulously at the detective. “Honestly, isn’t that your job to figure out who did it?”
Walker held up a hand in pause.
“No, no, what I meant was, can you think of anybody who had it in for Nora? Either of you, actually.”
Cullen closed his eyes, shaking his head, “Uh-uh, I cannot imagine a single person who could do what happened last night, much less four. Those are some sick individuals.”
“What would you do if you found out who took Nora?”
“I would expect you to put them away for a very long time, why?”
“It’s just a question. Don’t be nervous, Mr. Houltersund. I’m just trying to figure out what happened. Why don’t we take a step back for a minute. Tell me about the rest of your day.”
Cullen told him about seeing Nora off to work, heading to the university, and getting along with an average day.
“Plans changed, though. Nora called, saying she was working a double shift and wouldn’t be home until late.”
Squinting over his notepad, Walker cut in, “What do you mean, ‘plans changed’?”
“Excuse me?”
“You said plans changed, what plans did you have?”
Cullen was getting exasperated. “You’re reading into this, don’t you think? We probably would have eaten dinner after work, watched game shows on TV, and finished the evening with a rousing game of ‘who can fall asleep first’.”
“I have reports of you carousing at a bar, partying, and buying drinks for young girls.”
Cullen’s jaw dropped. He felt his pulse quicken and a twitch seized his left eye.
“I was introducing my mother’s new assistant to our nightlife, detective. And for
your information, I did not buy drinks for anyone. Hell, I didn’t even buy my own drinks.”
“No need to get defensive, Mr. Houltersund. I am not accusing you of anything. As I said, there is a mountain of paperwork to climb, and these are standard questions.”
Cullen nodded while rubbing the knots that formed in the base of his neck. It was early in the day, and he could hardly wait for it to end.
“I really do not have the slightest idea why four men broke into my house, attacked me, and took my wife.” He looked up, imploringly, passing all of his hope onto the man before him. “You have to find her, detective. She doesn’t deserve whatever is happening to her, and I can’t imagine life without her.”
Walker crunched the candies in his jaws, then stowed the notepad and pen in his overcoat. He produced a card and handed it to Cullen.
“Please call me with anything you can think of. My office hours are on the back. Just leave a message if I don’t pick up. Trust me when I say there are a lot of people devoted to solving this case. In a small town like this it needs to get cleared up quickly, or everyone will be leaning shotguns by the front door.”
Cullen noticed a distinct lack of confidence in the detective’s grip as they shook hands. Walker departed, turning up his collar and striding toward the street.
Cullen returned to the house and took a seat at the dining table. Everyone pressed into the room, standing shoulder to shoulder, family members holding hands. Clasping his own before him, Cullen closed his eyes, and went over the prior evening’s events again.
Feeling the burden of loved ones eyes upon him, he took several breaks to collect himself. Cullen’s head soon hung low as he failed to suppress his emotions. A squeeze on his knee brought him back. His mother sat close by his side, empathy and strength written on her face. Cullen sniffed his draining nose, looked his father-in-law in the eyes, and admitted regret for his absolute failure to keep Nora safe.
Howard’s eyes welled with grief. He ducked out of the crowd. Cullen heard the front door open and close. Jean followed close behind.
Completely spent, Cullen dropped his head into crossed arms and prayed for solitude.
Erin’s chair scraped the floor beside him. He felt her hand on his back and could not have been more grateful as she addressed everyone.
