If Anything Should Happen

by Bonnie Hearn Hill

  ‘Tell him if you want,’ I said. ‘I’m not up to calling him, though.’

  ‘I understand, Kit.’

  So this was why he’d insisted we meet – so he could try to convince me to ask Richard to the memorial service. Yet, I felt anxiety in the air between us, as if one or both of us had more to say.

  ‘Well, then.’ I glanced down at the cherrywood floor and realized I had absorbed more of his habits than I’d admitted to myself, difficulty with making eye contact being the most obvious. ‘I’m considering doing a Mother’s Day show with Farley.’ I forced myself to look directly at him.

  ‘The less you do of that, the better,’ he said.

  ‘Why? Farley thinks it’s a great idea.’

  ‘Because Farley wants ratings.’

  ‘So do I,’ I said. ‘You should understand that better than anyone. But even more than that, I want to find my mother.’

  ‘We have resources.’ Mick stood, grabbed a folder off the counter, and joined me on the other side of the dining table. ‘Private investigators, for instance. We don’t have to spread our private business all over the place.’

  ‘I’ve been denied the truth my entire life.’ As much as I wanted to open the folder, I didn’t. ‘At this point, maybe I should stop caring what people think.’

  ‘It’s not so much what people think.’ He pushed the folder closer to me. ‘It’s what they say. You’ve been in radio long enough to know what I’m talking about, and you don’t need it.’

  I also knew I couldn’t bear the thought of Kendra Trafton rejecting me on the air. I wasn’t sure I could deal with that in private either, though.

  ‘But if it helps us find Kendra,’ I said.

  ‘I told you. We have other ways.’ He rose from the table and to the coffee area, closer to the back of the motorhome. ‘Damn, I forgot to tell you. Rachel made tea. Something she picked up on one of our trips.’

  ‘I need to go now.’ I rose from the table.

  ‘Kit, please.’ Mick shot from the stove top to me in record time. Without his glasses hiding his eyes, I could see the fear in them. But fear of what? ‘You know how radio can be.’

  ‘I do,’ I said and tried to move a step back from him.

  He touched my arm. ‘I want you to find that Trafton woman, Kit. I gave up my marriage because I knew you deserved the truth. But not like this. Not on the air.’

  I sighed and realized it was the second time in one day I would have to say the same words – first to Farley, this time to him. ‘I’ll need some time to think about it.’

  ‘Sure, Kit. I understand.’ He picked up the folder and walked me to the door. ‘Take a look at this when you have a chance. As I said, we have options.’

  I took the folder from him. ‘Have you heard anything about the autopsy report?’ I asked.

  ‘Nothing suspicious.’ Mick looked down at his hand and seemed to will it to remain steady. ‘They think it was natural causes.’

  ‘They think?’

  ‘It was her heart. No one knows why these things happen, and Elaine had her share of medical problems.’

  ‘That’s not true,’ I said. ‘She was obsessive about her health. I want to see the autopsy report. Is it in here?’

  ‘Of course not. Just a summary. I wouldn’t want you to have to go through the whole thing.’

  ‘I want to see it,’ I told him. ‘All of it.’

  ‘OK. If it makes you feel better, go ahead. I’ll get a copy of it for you.’

  ‘You don’t have one?’

  ‘No. Why would I? But if you want to read it – if that’s what you need – we’ll make it happen.’ At the door, he kissed my forehead the way he always did. ‘Love you, Kit.’

  ‘Love you too, Mick.’

  ‘Re-think this Mother’s Day thing, will you? There are easier ways to find Kendra Trafton.’

  NINE

  Barely noon, and already the day tasted like dust as she and Kendra shopped for groceries for that night’s supper. Rena had pulled her hair up, but she could feel strands that had escaped the clip sticking to her neck like thin, wet ribbons. She rubbed at the tickle they left and hoped she didn’t look as bad as she felt.

  Kendra pushed the cart, taking charge of the trip, which was fine with Rena.

  ‘You look tired,’ Kendra said. ‘What’s going on?’

  ‘I’m all right.’

  ‘Dale still making life miserable for you?’

  ‘Not so much that,’ she said. ‘He and Bryn are still at it, though. The girl won’t leave him alone. They’ve always got their heads together.’

  ‘I told you to talk to Leighton.’

  ‘There’s nothing I could add to what he already knows.’ Rena reached for a can of green chilies and put it in the cart beside the cheese. ‘I can’t believe Dale would be stupid enough to do more than flirt, considering her age and what Leighton would do to him.’

  ‘Never overestimate that one.’ Kendra pointed at the shopping cart. ‘And put those canned jalapeños back on the shelf. I got some great Anaheim chilies to stuff for my Daniel.’

  ‘He’ll be so glad to see you,’ Rena said. ‘I wish he could stay longer, but he had a lot to do over his spring break.’

  Kendra stared at the canned goods, as if she wanted to look anywhere but at Rena. They both knew why Daniel didn’t like to come home from school, but sometimes Rena needed to pretend.

  ‘You must miss him,’ Kendra said finally.

  ‘The only way I can stand it is to tell myself how much better off he is going to college and getting out of Buckeye.’ Rena tried not to cry, but Kendra’s features blurred. ‘Sometimes, though, the missing him just takes me over, and I can’t think about much else. You know how it is with your own child.’

  Kendra nodded. ‘I do.’

  ‘I’m so sorry.’ Rena covered her lips with her hand, but it was too late to stop the words. ‘I wasn’t thinking.’

  ‘It’s all right.’ But Kendra’s face wasn’t all right, far from it. Rena knew she had to be thinking about her daughter.

  ‘We’ve got a long list here. We’d better get hopping. Next stop, Rotel tomatoes. Can’t have decent chalupas without Rotel tomatoes, can we?’

  Kendra didn’t move. ‘All these years I told myself running from the past only made things worse. But now that I’m back here, I’m not so sure.’

  ‘My mama would have called what you did “pulling a geographic”,’ she said. ‘Taking off so soon after and hoping that would fix it. At least now maybe you can heal a little.’

  ‘They call it closure.’ Kendra stared down at the cart. ‘Such a cold word.’

  Here Rena had been thinking about herself, worrying that Dale was right about her mental state, and all the time Kendra was the one who needed support. ‘The world’s changed so much since then,’ she said. ‘With computers and DNA and all, there are so many ways to find lost people.’

  ‘If they are alive.’ She sighed and seemed to force a smile. ‘Enough of that. I do all right most days, but then something will come out of the blue like that and just flatten me.’

  She’d been that something out of the blue. ‘I shouldn’t have opened my mouth, Kendra.’

  ‘No.’ Kendra took her arm and squeezed hard. ‘You and I. We shouldn’t have to measure our words. We were best friends when we were girls, and we have to accept each other for who we are now.’

  ‘I do accept you,’ Rena said. ‘I just feel bad I caused you to hurt.’

  ‘I’m all right now.’ Kendra smiled and reached for the cart. ‘Let’s have fun, and you remember what I said, OK? You and I can say anything to each other.’

  ‘It’s a deal.’ Rena made herself smile too. She had made a promise to Kendra, and now she needed to keep it.

  TEN

  The responses to my blog and the phone calls to the station continued. With each conversation, I hoped for a reunion of my own, for someone who wanted to find me as much as these people had wanted to find their families. Bu
t did Kendra want that? She’d put me up for adoption. She probably had reasons, maybe good ones at the time. I tried to imagine myself in her place and wondered if she would welcome my intrusion into her life.

  Tamera convinced me to hire the online detective agency she had used. They took credit cards and touted their successes at reuniting families. The photos of hugging, joy-filled relatives on their website were enough to convince me that hiring help was worth a shot. The blanks on the screen asked for names and dates, some of which I knew and some I didn’t. I filled them out. When I came to the name and relationship of the missing person, I hesitated, then typed in the name that was still so new to me that entering it on this site made me feel like a fraud, as if I were putting in the number of someone else’s credit card. Name: Kendra Trafton. Relationship: Mother.

  I thought of little else apart from that. Getting through the memorial service, Richard or no Richard. And, until then, getting through each broadcast. Showing anyone who doubted me that I could handle this.

  After today’s show, Farley pushed back his chair with an expression that was impossible to read. He seemed to have mastered the art of hiding his thoughts from me.

  ‘How are you doing?’ he asked.

  ‘I’m fine.’ I got up and stretched. The shifts seemed longer and longer these days.

  ‘That last caller got to you, didn’t he?’

  ‘They all do. I never thought about how many people had to deal with this.’

  ‘A lot.’ He spoke as if on the air. ‘Imagine what it’s like for them being cut off from half their families. Imagine the not knowing.’

  ‘I don’t have to imagine, Farley.’

  A flush crept into his tan. ‘I didn’t mean to sound like an ass,’ he said.

  ‘You didn’t. I’m too irritable these days. Sorry.’

  ‘So am I.’ He toyed with his notes, and then met my gaze. ‘It’s just that since all this has happened, you’re different.’

  We had been linked once, connected. In the confines of the studio, we fused into one unit, our identities blended so perfectly for that time on the air that I wondered how we’d be as a couple off the air. We’d never got around to finding out. Now, we were two individuals, separated by what should be just another topic for us. Another commercial and we’d be back on for a final phone call.

  ‘What do you mean? You think I’ve changed?’

  ‘Of course you’ve changed, and I have to remember it. One minute you’re my partner, just the same as always. I need to tell myself that when we talk about this subject, you’re somebody else.’

  ‘Are you saying I’m not being professional?’ I felt like walking out the door and letting him handle the last caller. But, well, that might not have been so professional. Instead, I sat back down.

  ‘I’m saying you’re hurting.’ I could feel as much as see his concern. His long hair glinted in the light from the windows, making him look as young and golden as one of those singers from my father’s past.

  ‘I can still do my job,’ I said, not sure which one of us I was trying to convince. ‘I can relate to these people because I know how they feel.’

  ‘And because of you, I can too.’ The engineer signaled, and Farley took the last caller. ‘Hi, it’s Farley and Kit on Perp Talk.’

  ‘Frank Vera is innocent.’

  Before I thought about it, I shouted into the mic, ‘Why don’t you call back when we’re off the air and tell me why you’re such a coward.’

  No answer.

  ‘Bert alert,’ Farley said. ‘He’s trolling, but you don’t have to. Visit our website and share your tips and stories.’ He switched to a recorded newscast. ‘Not the best segment ending we’ve ever done. Let’s hope no one was listening.’

  I sighed and rested my forehead in my hands. Farley squeezed my shoulder.

  Just then the phone rang again. I glanced at Farley. He shrugged. I grabbed it and waited.

  ‘I’m not a coward,’ the man said in a clear voice.

  I signaled with my thumb to Farley and mouthed Bert. ‘Then why won’t you tell us the truth for once?’

  ‘Price tag’s too high.’

  Farley nodded. We had him. And we were off the air, which was all Carla Brantingham had asked for. She didn’t say we couldn’t talk to the guy. Besides, if he really did know something, and we could offer her solid evidence about her brother’s death, she wouldn’t care how we got the information.

  ‘What if we keep your name out of it?’ I asked.

  ‘You won’t.’

  ‘Then why do you keep calling?’

  ‘Because Frank Vera didn’t kill Alex Brantingham. You need to write about it, talk about it on that show of yours.’

  ‘I can’t do that if you don’t tell me what you know,’ I said. ‘Could we meet somewhere?’

  Farley shook his head vehemently, and I put my hand up, signaling him to stop.

  ‘There’s a diner off J Street. I’m five minutes from there.’

  ‘I’m on my way,’ I told him. ‘What’s the name of it?’

  ‘Not sure, but it’s the only crêpe place on the block. I’ll know you when I see you.’ He hung up again, but this time I didn’t care.

  ‘Hold on just a minute,’ Farley said.

  ‘I can’t wait,’ I told him and headed toward the door.

  He followed me. ‘We need to go together, Kit. You have no idea who this guy is.’

  ‘I appreciate the offer.’ My heart beat so fast that my chest ached. ‘But, Farley, it is daylight, very public, and if the two of us show up together, we might scare the guy away for good.’

  ‘Or we might get a better story out of him. Good cop, bad cop.’

  As hopeful as his expression was, I still shook my head. ‘For now, at least, I need to do this alone.’

  ‘You see what I mean?’ he said.

  ‘About what?’ I asked, and we headed through the door and into the studio.

  ‘You’ve changed.’

  I stopped for long enough to sigh. ‘This guy has been hanging up on us for months. I have a chance to talk to him. That is all this is about. I’ll check in with you as soon as I can.’

  I left him there like that and hurried through the side door to the parking lot.

  Regardless of what he said, Farley was thinking about himself and about whatever relationship we did or didn’t have. For some reason, he could no longer see how important this interview was for us, and more than that, for Alex’s family. No, I thought as I pulled out of the parking lot. I wasn’t the one who had changed. Farley was.

  The tiny restaurant had that energetic caffeine-and-sugar vibe that defined such places more than any business being done there. In the early afternoon, it was packed, mostly with coffee drinkers, who from the looks of them were on their breaks or just trying to get lost with their newspapers and laptops. Any of them could be our caller. To the counter on my left, a man in a polo shirt sat with a large fruit crêpe that had more whipped cream than strawberries. At a table beside me, a guy in a tank top and flip-flops held an espresso and checked me out. I glanced back, and he smiled an unspoken invitation.

  No, thank you. Mr Flip-Flops was not my guy.

  ‘Ms Doyle? Kit?’

  I jumped at the sound of my name and realized I was more nervous than I had admitted to Farley or myself. Next to me stood a young guy – early twenties, maybe – with studious-looking glasses and black, longish hair shoved behind his ears.

  ‘Thanks for meeting me,’ I said.

  ‘I’m taking a big chance.’

  I put out my hand. ‘It’s good to meet you, Mr …?’

  ‘I could make up a name,’ he said, without taking my hand, ‘but that would just confuse the issue.’

  ‘At least you’re honest.’ I glanced around the packed room. ‘Could I get you some coffee?’

  ‘No,’ he said. ‘We need to get out of here.’

  ‘You won’t even tell me your name,’ I said. ‘No way can I go anywhere with you.�
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  ‘That’s the only way it can be. My parents. They could get in big trouble.’

  I guessed he was telling the truth. He was too jittery to be lying. ‘It’s a nice day,’ I said. ‘Why don’t we just walk around a little?’

  He nodded, and we went outside.

  The only way I could speak to him was to pretend we were on the air, not face-to-face. ‘Why do you think Frank Vera’s innocent?’ I asked.

  ‘Because …’ He bit his lip and signed. ‘Frank’s had his problems, all right. But he didn’t do it. You got to the bottom of that other murder. Investigate this one, and you’ll find out I’m telling you the truth.’

  ‘If Frank didn’t do it, who did?’ I hit him with the question the way I would if he were only a voice on the radio. He seemed almost to recoil from it.

  ‘All I care about is clearing Frank’s name. If he goes to prison for this, I’ll never forgive myself.’

  ‘You’re friends?’ I asked.

  ‘No, man.’ He shook his head. ‘I hate his guts.’

  ‘Then why do you care if he goes to prison?’

  ‘Alex wouldn’t want it that way.’ He fumbled in his pocket and shoved on some dark glasses.

  ‘You knew Alex Brantingham?’ I asked it too fast, too forcefully, and he stepped back as if I’d lunged for him.

  ‘I can’t do this. I’m sorry.’

  ‘Wait,’ I said. But he was already walking, and then running, down the street.

  ELEVEN

  Rena followed Kendra down the narrow aisles. They should be able to say anything to each other. She should be able to say anything to Kendra, and Kendra to her. Yet she didn’t want Kendra to think she was crazy, and more and more lately, especially after something set Dale off, she felt that way.

  ‘Hey, girls,’ a male voice hooted. Then, a whistle from behind them.

  Rena turned around and felt Kendra do the same. Two young men about Daniel’s age stood there, shamefaced. Rena felt her cheeks heat up with embarrassment for them and herself, too, for not being what they’d figured them for.