by Jeff Shelby
“Hi,” I said, my voice loud enough to carry across the street.
She just nodded.
“I owe you an apology, I think,” I said.
She shrugged as if I’d asked her a question about something she couldn't have cared less.
“I’m sorry,” I said anyway. “For the other night. I handled it poorly.”
The look in her eyes shifted, but I couldn’t tell what was there. Anger, sadness, nothing?
“I wasn’t expecting it,” I said, my knees shaking, my eyes moving to the exact patch of grass where I’d left Elizabeth to go get that fucking extension cord. “I didn’t know what to do, Lauren. I’m sorry.”
Tears distorted my vision now. I lifted my arm. It was heavy, uncoordinated, as if it had fallen asleep. My knees weakened and my back began to slide down the car.
“Joe?” Lauren finally said. “Are you okay?”
I shook my head, still sinking to the ground, still pointing at the lawn. “She was right there, Lauren. Right there.”
The tears pooled in my eyes and spilled onto my cheeks and I could barely see Lauren crossing the street toward me. I felt her hands on my arm.
“Right. There,” I said.
Lauren’s arms went around me. I buried my face in her shoulder and cried for a long time.
FIFTY-NINE
“Are you alright?” Lauren asked.
We were sitting on a rock near the Hotel Del, watching the ocean roll in and out. She’d gathered me up out of the street, put me in my car and driven us over to the hotel and the beach. It was a narrow strip of sand that we'd walked hundreds of times together and she knew it was a place that would settle me.
I hadn’t said a word since she’d crossed the street. My eyes were dry, but the breeze off the water put a mild sting in them.
“I think so,” I said. “I’m sorry.”
“For missing our daughter?” she asked without looking at me. She shook her head slowly. “If I get through a week without a mini-breakdown, I’ll let you know.”
I couldn’t remember the last time I’d collapsed so thoroughly under the weight of missing Elizabeth. I thought about her every day, but I’d steeled myself against the tendrils of emotion that tried to find their way inside me. I'd managed to develop an ability to keep it all inside, not letting it crack my exterior.
But seeing the house again triggered everything I didn’t want to think about.
“How can you live there?” I asked, picking up a handful of sand and letting it fall through my fingers. “I could barely look at it. But you? You live there, see all of it every day. How? Why?”
Lauren ran a hand through her hair, pushing it all over to one side. “You see the bad. I see the good.” She glanced at me, a small, sad smile on her lips. “I go sit in her room, think about her, talk to her. I sit at the kitchen table and remember what an amazingly slow eater she was.”
We both laughed. Neither Lauren nor I were particularly fast eaters, but Elizabeth could stretch a meal out for hours, talking about anything, getting up from her chair, refusing to eat as we cajoled, ordered and begged her to finish the small plate of whatever was in front of her. It was the kind of thing that drove parents nuts, but given perspective, it was more charming than annoying.
“I go outside and remember how much she loved to work in the flower beds with me,” Lauren said. “Go out back and think of her sitting on the patio, swinging her feet on the chair.”
She turned to face me fully. “I don’t wanna forget those things, Joe. And I feel like if I left, they would just fade away. Staying here in Coronado, in the house, I stay connected to her. To us, as a family.” She paused. “I need that.”
The sun glimmered on the surface of the water, the white caps washing it away every few moments before it reappeared on the watery glass top.
“I miss her as much as you do, Joe,” she said. “But I do it in a different way. Your way isn’t for me.”
She’d said something similar to me when I’d left, but I couldn’t recall her exact words.
“And I don’t mean that in a critical way,” she said, touching my arm. “I don’t. There’s no right way to handle it. But I can’t do what you do. Couldn’t do it. The way you felt when you saw our house? That’s how I’d feel every time I went looking for someone else’s son or daughter. You don’t understand how I can live in the house? I can’t fathom how you can spend all your time looking for missing kids.”
A small wave rose up out of the water and crashed down, long lines of white foam rolling at us.
“I see the good, you see the bad,” I said.
Her hand was still on my arm and she tapped her fingers against my skin. “Exactly.”
We watched the water for awhile. Sitting there, the warmth of her leg pressed lightly into mine, transported me to that time when everything was right with the world. Almost.
“I blindsided you the other night,” Lauren finally said.
“You did.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Me too.”
“But I meant it,” she said.
I didn’t say anything.
“One thing I’ve learned from all of this, Joe. Say what you mean and don’t waste any time saying it.”
“You’ve always been like that, Lauren.”
“Maybe. But it rings truer for me now. I try not to waste a word, a breath, an action, anything.” Her fingers wrapped around my forearm. “I’ve missed you. I know our marriage is over. I’ve accepted that. But I miss you and I still love you. And I’m not going to not say those things just because it makes it awkward between us.”
Her fingers started to slide off my arm, but I placed my hand over them and kept them there.
“I miss you, too,” I said. We sat there for awhile longer, watching the sun slip down into the ocean.
SIXTY
Something was beeping.
I rolled over in the bed and the sheets twisted tighter around me. Lauren’s naked back was pressed up against mine. I pulled my legs out of the sheets and looked at her. She was still asleep, her mouth slightly open, her arms buried beneath the pillow.
I sat up and yawned. We’d gone back to my hotel room, ordered room service and spent the evening in bed. It wasn’t just like old times, but it was close and that was good enough.
As I stared at Lauren, thoughts about the implications of our night tried to rush into my head. I couldn't remember the last time I'd had sex, much less the last time I'd been with Lauren. I wondered how long it had been for her or if it was even my place to wonder. I really didn't want to thing about those things, though. I wanted to stay in the present. I wasn’t going to ruin the morning.
But the beeping was trying to ruin it.
Lauren stirred and twisted her head in my direction. “Hi.”
“Hi,” I said, pulling on my jeans.
“What is that?”
“I think it’s my phone.”
“It sounds like a siren.”
I laughed. “Hung over?”
She laughed, too. “I don’t drink much anymore. Been a long time since I’ve killed off a bottle of wine in one sitting.”
I pointed to the table where our dinner trays and dishes were stacked. “Two bottles.”
She pulled the sheet up to her neck and closed her eyes. “Two bottles. Yes.” The phone beeped again. “And I will break that thing if you don’t turn it off.”
I sifted through the pile of clothes on the floor, but couldn’t find it. It beeped again and I realized it was coming from the bathroom. Somewhere in the foggy haze of the previous evening, I remembered plugging it in to charge. I unsnapped it from the charger and walked back out to the room.
“Got it,” I said, holding it up so she could see.
“Good work,” she murmured, her eyes closed once again. I watched her, focusing on the familiar rise and fall of her chest as she breathed, the way her hair fanned out on the pillow, a tangled mess of auburn strands.
I returne
d my attention to the phone. The blinking icon on the screen told me I had a message. I checked the missed calls log, but didn’t recognize the number. I dialed the voicemail number.
Lauren rolled out of bed, the sheet wrapped around her. “I’m going to make this easy on both of us. No breakfast, alright?”
The voicemail was telling me that I had one message. “We can have breakfast, Lauren. It’s fine.”
She pushed her hair away from her face and grabbed her clothes off the floor. “No. Not a good idea. Let’s not go crazy here.”
I didn’t know if she was saying that for her benefit or for mine. “Why is breakfast crazy?”
She walked past me toward the bathroom. “It’s not breakfast that’s crazy, Joe.”
I listened to the message, but grabbed her elbow as she passed. “Wait.”
She frowned at me, but she didn’t pull away. I finished listening to the message, wanting to make sure I heard it correctly. Then I shut the phone off and looked at her. “Okay, I can’t have breakfast with you.”
Her eyebrows narrowed and the frown morphed into confusion. “First you wanna have breakfast, now you don’t? Joe, I already said it was okay. I’m not looking to rush you back to the altar. That’s not what this was.”
“I know that,” I said, frustrated that I wasn’t getting things out the way I wanted to. “But what I’m saying is I can’t have breakfast with you. Today.”
Her forehead wrinkled and she shrugged, like I wasn’t making any sense.
I wasn’t.
I held up the phone. “The beeping. I had a message.”
Lauren slid her elbow out of my hand and tightened the sheet around her body. “Fine.”
“It’s Chuck. He’s awake.”
SIXTY-ONE
The nurse walked me down from the check-in station to Chuck’s room. She explained that he was awake, alert and generally seemed to be doing well. Given the trauma and the time he’d been unconscious, though, she asked me to keep the visit brief. I told her I would.
She left me and I stood outside his door for a moment, gathering my thoughts. I took a deep breath before I stepped into the room.
His head turned in my direction. He didn’t look much different from when I’d seen him before other than his eyes were open and a rough beard had sprouted on his face.
I stopped just inside the door and held up a hand. “Hey.”
He squinted at me, like he couldn’t see me clearly. “Joe?”
I grabbed a chair from against the wall and slid it over near the side of his bed before sitting down. “I look like a ghost?”
He tried to smile, but exhaustion prevented it from reaching full wattage. “Yeah.”
“I’m here,” I said.
“Jane found you,” he said.
“Through Lauren. Yeah.”
He stared at me, his chest rising up and down beneath the sheet. “Wasn’t sure you’d come.”
“Come on.”
“I didn’t know.”
There was no malice or sarcasm in his words, but they stung nonetheless. “Lauren called me, we hung up and I went straight to the airport. True story.”
“I didn’t wanna bother you,” he said. “But I wasn’t sure what else to do.”
“It’s okay.”
He rolled his head awkwardly to the other side and glanced out the window, then turned back to me. “Thanks for coming.”
I nodded but didn’t say anything. I was sure he had a lot of questions about where I’d been and what I’d been doing and if he’d asked, I would’ve told him. It would’ve been nice to talk about it all with him, to unload a bit. I was used to being alone and keeping everything to myself. But he didn’t have the energy to ask and I didn’t want to wear him out. And I had my own questions.
“Nurse doesn’t want me to stay long,” I said, nodding back at the door.
“I’ve been sleeping for a couple of days,” he said with a weak smile. “I’m fine.”
“I’m sure,” I said, returning the smile. “Any idea who beat the shit out of you?”
The smile faded. “No. I was on the beach, running. Somebody got me from behind and then knocked my lights out. Pretty sure there were two, though.” He winced, some invisible pain freezing him for a moment. It passed just as quickly as it had arrived and his face clouded over with something else. “Nobody around here is probably too upset about it, though. They're all ready to throw me in jail, anyway.”
“I’m working on that,” I said. “It’s not gonna happen, Chuck.”
“You sound pretty confident.”
“Jon Jordan and I made a deal.”
He stared at me for a long time. “A deal?”
“Meredith’s missing,” I said.
His features sagged, like the wind had been knocked out of him.
“Almost forty eight hours now,” I continued. “He hired me to find her.”
“You gotta be kiddin’ me,” he said, his voice hoarse.
I explained to him the deal that Jordan and I struck.
“He’s full of shit,” Chuck said.
“I agree. He may drop the charges, but he’ll figure out another way to come after you.”
“Fuck him,” Chuck said quietly. “Go ahead and try.”
“What was going on with you and Meredith?”
He looked away from me.
“And just so we’re straight,” I continued. “I know it’s not what everyone thinks it was.”
“How do you know that?”
“Because I know you.”
“You’ve been gone a long time,” he said. “Maybe I’ve changed.”
“Oh, you have,” I told him. “No doubt. You’re hanging out at our old high school, coaching basketball, doing a bunch of shit I never would’ve guessed. But sleeping with teenage girls and beating them up?” I shook my head. “Not a chance, Chuck. Not a chance.”
He shifted his head on the pillow, moving his eyes back to me. “Thanks.”
“Tell me what was going on.”
He stared at the wall across from the bed for a long time, his hands fidgeting beneath the sheet, the monitor next to the bed beeping in rhythm. “I made her a promise, Joe.”
“She was hooking, wasn’t she?”
He glanced at me, unable to hide the surprise on his face.
I ran down everything I’d learned from when I’d first arrived in Coronado, from the Jordan family to the teenage pimp to what Mike shared with me about Mrs. Jordan.
“So I understand you want to honor a promise to her, but given all that’s happened, it’s hard to think her disappearing is a coincidence, right? She isn’t off on some lark. Something’s happened to her and I doubt it’s good.” I tapped my temple with my index finger. “If you know something about what was going on in her life, you need to tell me. Right now.”
Chuck lay there, staring up at the ceiling, digesting everything I’d told him, blinking every so often. I stayed quiet, letting him get it straight in his head.
Finally, he turned to me and said, “She’s a good kid, Joe.”
“That’s what everyone has said. But for a good kid, she's causing a lot of trouble.”
“She’s a good kid,” he repeated. “But she got into something. She’s trying to get out of it, but it’s complicated.”
“Get out of what?” I asked, thinking maybe, finally, I’d get an answer as to what I was actually doing in the middle of all of this.
“I don’t know much,” he said. “She wouldn’t give me specifics. Probably because she knew I’d get involved.”
I nodded.
“Her father, he’s pretty strict,” he said, his words slow, methodic. “Keeps her on a tight leash.”
“Not a bad thing.”
“No, it’s not. But she’s rebelled against it. Not like you or I ever did,” he said. “Loud, letting the whole world know. She’s done it very quietly.”
I stayed quiet.
“Last semester there was some sort of dance,” he sa
id, now tapping his hands lightly against the table. “Something happened at home, I don’t know what it was. But Jordan cut her off.”
“Cut her off?”
“Gave her some sort of weekly allowance,” Chuck said, the wrinkles at his mouth and eyes tightening. “Probably a lot bigger than you or I ever got. But an allowance. She needed the allowance to buy tickets to the dance. It was some sort of formal deal, like a prom or something, I guess. To buy her dress, too, and a bunch of other crap, I guess. But he cut if off and she had no money to go.”
I kept quiet and let him continue.
“She was pissed at him,” Chuck said. “And she wanted to go to the dance. She needed money.” He paused, stared at his hands for a moment. “And she did something really stupid.”
I thought about everything I’d learned from Gina, from the Jordans, from Meredith’s friends and now from Chuck. I assumed her getting cut off was one of the things Jordan had done to attempt to sabotage her relationship with Derek. So Meredith needed money. She was rebelling against her parents. If prostitution was her way of filling those two needs, it was far more than stupid.
“She told you all of this?” I asked. “Everyone tells me you were spending a lot of time with her, but…”
“No,” he said, cutting me off. “She didn’t tell me. I saw her.”
“Saw her?”
Anger edged into his eyes. “Working.”
SIXTY-TWO
“Couple of weeks ago, I was over on Harbor Island.” He named one of the high rise hotels near the airport. “I’ve been doing some work on my place and I needed a place to stay, so I spent a couple of nights at the hotel,” he said, shifting in the bed. “Got bored in my room, went downstairs to grab a beer at the bar. She was sitting there, dressed up, looking like she was about twenty-five. Didn’t recognize her at first.”
The nurse that walked me down to the room stuck her head in the room. “Sir, time’s about up.”
“He’s fine,” Chuck said, his voice the loudest I’d heard it yet.
