All Things Lost

by Josh Aterovis

  “You don't hafta get nasty,” I said as I trailed behind him. I was a little hurt at the abruptness in his tone and it showed in my voice.

  With a sigh, he turned and faced me, leaning back against his desk.

  “I'm sorry, kid. I'm just not used to having anyone in my life since my wife passed away. It's all a little new to me. You'll have to forgive me if I don't know quite how to act. It's been a long time since I dated.”

  “Aha! So you admit you're dating!”

  He looked up to the ceiling with a beseeching look on his face. “Why me?” he mouthed heavenward. He leveled his gaze at me and said, “Now what was so blame important that you hunted me down at my home?”

  I grinned. “I know who Caleb was meeting in the barn.” I announced melodramatically.

  “Finnegan Byrne?”

  I was crestfallen. “How'd you know?” I whined.

  “It was just a guess, albeit an educated one. Last night when you showed up on my doorstep you mentioned that you'd hunted Mr. Byrne down. I just put two and two together.”

  “Oh, well, he admitted that they met in the barn. They were friends and I guess lovers, although he wouldn't admit to being boyfriends or anything.”

  “Did you learn anything else?”

  “Oh yeah, I've barely gotten started! Caleb was at Finn's house the night his father was murdered and Finn was never away from him for more than half an hour. His parents won't be able to validate that, though, since Caleb snuck into Finn's room through the window.”

  “Hold on, something isn't adding up for me. If this Finn could have provided Caleb with an alibi why didn't he come forward?”

  “Apparently he's terrified that his parents will find out he's gay, or bisexual or whatever he is.”

  “So he let's his friend go to jail for something he knows he didn't do?”

  “Hmm, yeah, that is a little harsh.”

  “Harsh? I wouldn't want him for an enemy let alone a friend. I think there's more to this story than we've heard.”

  “He really did seem scared of his parents, though,” I said thoughtfully.

  “He could very well be, but he wouldn't even have to admit that they were lovers, all he'd have to do is tell the police he was at his house at the time of the murder. Where does he live, by the way?”

  “Oh, that's another thing. Their houses practically back up to one another. All that separates them is a thin track of woods and that big field. Finn took me through the woods and showed me.”

  “Why don't you start at the beginning and take me through the whole thing,” Novak suggested, moving around behind his desk and taking his familiar position.

  A strange look crossed Novak's face when I had finished. “That strikes me as a very odd encounter.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “The way he showed you through the woods, as if he wanted you to know that it was him with Caleb. But why would he want you to know that? You said he was reluctant to admit that Caleb was with him that night. Unless it was all an act and we're being played like a fiddle.”

  “I don't understand,” I admitted after a few moments of silence as I tried to work out what Novak was suggesting.

  “Neither do I…yet.”

  The phone on his desk let lose with a shrill ring and we both startled at the sound. Novak answered before I could recover. His conversation was short and consisted mostly of uh-huh's, I see's, and yes's. He ended with, “I appreciate you giving me a call, Hank. I know it was above and beyond. I owe you one.”

  He hung up and looked at me a minute before speaking. “Apparently Finnegan Byrne paid a visit to the police this morning. His statement is going to get Caleb Cohen released from custody.”

  “You're kidding!” I gasped. “Where's he going to stay?”

  “I assure you I'm not kidding. As to where he's going to be staying I don't have any idea. We'll have to wait and see. I'm sure the police will keep tabs on him.”

  “So what do we do now?”

  “You mean with the case?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, it was never an official case, even though I've spent more time on it than my paying cases here lately. And technically we've done what your friend asked you to do; we've gotten his friend Caleb off the hook. I think we can consider it a job well done and get back to our real jobs.”

  “But we still don't know who did kill Ira.”

  “That's the police's job, not ours.”

  “But-”

  “But nothing, kiddo. This was a learning experience for you. You've learned a lot and I've learned a lot about you. You're going to make a great investigator, but you have to know when to let go of something. You can't let a case consume you. It's just a job.”

  “But it feels so incomplete.”

  He sighed. “You need closure. Let's work on some other things today, get your mind off of it. Call your friend later tonight; see if he feels good about things, you'll need to report in anyway. We'll talk again tomorrow.” He picked up a stack of files and handed them to me. “Right now, these need to be up-dated and filed.”

  I reluctantly took the stack and stalked out of the room. I managed to get through the rest of the day without too much distraction or pouting, but as soon as I got home I was on the phone. I dialed Asher's house first. Marcus answered.

  “Hey Killian, no Asher isn't here,” he said in response to my question. “I think he went over to some friend's house. Hang on a sec.” I heard someone in the background that sounded like it was either Bethany or Deb, then Marcus came back on the line. “Mom says he went to see his friend Caleb.”

  “Caleb?” I asked in surprise. “He's seeing Caleb? Do you know where Caleb is living now?”

  Another brief exchange between mother and son and Marcus reported that Asher had said that Caleb was staying temporarily with the Haynes'. They had apparently contacted the police and offered and it had been arranged. I hung up the phone and stared at it dumbly. So Caleb was staying with the Haynes' and Asher was there too. Maybe I should pay a visit myself; welcome Caleb home and all. That would be closure, right?

  I snatched up my keys and was out the door before anyone could even ask where I was going.

  I drove directly to the Haynes home and parked in their driveway for a change, right next to Asher's car. I hopped out and knocked on the door. Becky answered it.

  “Oh, hello,” she said in a somewhat wary voice.

  “Hi, Mrs. Haynes,” I said as cheerily as I could manage. “I heard that Caleb was released and now he's staying with you.”

  “Um, yes,” she said hesitantly.

  “Is he here now?”

  “No, I mean yes, but not in the house. A friend of his came over and they went for a walk together.”

  “Ok, I'll go look for them. Thank you.” I backed away as she eyed me nervously from the door. What did she think I was going to do?

  I decided to leave my car where it was and look for them on foot; they couldn't have gone too far, they were walking too after all. I walked around the hedge of trees that surround the Haynes' yard and peered out across the yard that used to be Caleb's home. I wondered how he felt staying next door to the house his father was brutally murdered in. I didn't think I would feel very comfortable if I was in his place and I hated my father probably as much as he did. I started for the barn; it seemed like an obvious first place to check. I decided to go through the window.

  As I rounded the corner of the ramshackle building I thought I saw a flash of movement at the far corner. I almost called out but something stopped me. I paused for a moment as a sense of fear swept over me. I remembered one other time when a sense of motion and an ignored internal warning signal almost got me killed. I shook off the feeling, telling myself that I was being silly. It was probably just the wind. I strode purposefully to the window, planted my hands on the sill-and froze.

  There, highlighted in the dappled mote-filled sunlight filtering in, stood Asher and Caleb…and they were kissing. I s
hoved roughly away from the window, caught my foot in a vine and fell over onto my back with a thud and a loud grunt as the air rushed out of my lungs. I scrambled to my feet and set off at a dead run.

  “Killian,” a voice called out from behind me. I didn't slow down or even turn around. “Killian, wait!” It was Asher but I wasn't about to stop and go back just to hear how he'd moved on and was with Caleb now. My heart felt as if it was being ripped from my chest and I fought the urge to vomit. I guess that answered the question as to whether or not I still loved Asher. Why couldn't I have seen it sooner? Why was I always so blind to what was staring me right in the face? Now I'd lost any chance I'd ever had with Asher, all because I was too stupid to see it.

  I came around the hedge so fast my feet slipped out from under me on the sloping grass and I came down painfully on my hip, sliding several feet and acquiring one hell of a grass stain. I was on my feet again in a second, ignoring the shooting pain in my hip, and racing to my car. I yanked the door open, jumped in and took off with a shower of stones. As I pulled away I caught sight of Asher running across yard, a look of horror on his face. I guess this wasn't exactly the way he'd planned on telling me. I tore off without looking back again.

  I drove around aimlessly for about an hour, my mind numb with pain and self-loathing. Finally I found myself at the park in my hometown. I parked the car in the lot and walked slowly towards the pond. It had been a long time since I'd been there, not since the night I was stabbed and Seth died. I'd been to the park since, for Seth's funeral, but to the pond where it all happened, where my life changed forever.

  It was edging towards dusk now, almost the same time of day it had been the last time I was here. It had been cleaned up a lot since then; it was hard to believe a horrible murder had been committed here. The once waist-high weeds lining the path had been trimmed down to a lush green ribbon of turf and the thick underbrush had been cleared out of the surrounding woods. The little island in the middle of the pond had been landscaped, planted with groundcover and small trees with large rocks placed strategically. The ornamental arched bridges were painted white. It was an idyllic scene.

  I walked slowly around the path that encircled the pond until I reached the place where Seth had died. I stopped and stared at the spot where he'd laid dying, all alone. It took me a minute to really focus on the small bronze plaque mounted on a concrete square in the ground. I took a step closer and knelt down to read it.

  “In memory of Seth David Connelly, my beloved son.”

  I felt a wave of overwhelming emotion coming over me and I choked back a sob.

  “It wasn't necessarily what it looked like,” a voice said from behind me. I leapt up and spun around to find Seth leaning against the rail of the bridge, looking out over the pond, away from me. Somehow I wasn't surprised to see him there.

  “He was kissing him,” I said in a pain-filled voice.

  He shrugged. “So? Maybe the kid kissed him.”

  “It looked pretty mutual to me.”

  “So what are you so upset about? I thought you were moving on.”

  “I love him.”

  He turned to face me, his face largely in shadows. “Killian, if you love him, then do something about it. Otherwise, move on. He's not the only guy out there you know. He's not even the only guy interested in you.”

  “Here we go with that again. What are you, like my own private dating service?”

  “I'm just here because I love you.”

  That stopped me.

  “Why are you here?” he went on, “Why did you come to the pond of all the places in the world you could have gone? What made you come here?”

  “I…I don't know. I haven't been here since…”

  “The night I died? Maybe it's time you made a peace with your past, Kill. You can't move forward until you let go of what's behind you.”

  “Is Asher behind me now?”

  “That's yet to be determined.”

  “What about you? It's hard to let go of someone who keeps popping up to give me advice on my love life-and lousy advice at that.”

  “I haven't given any advice. All I've done is tried to help you see what you refuse to see.”

  “That's all you've ever done,” I said softly, remembering the time he told me what my name meant-and that I was blind to the fact that I was gay.

  “And as far as putting me behind you,” he went on, “I can stop coming around if you want. I'm only here for you.”

  “No, don't stop. I just haven't quite gotten used to these visits from beyond the grave.”

  “Or maybe I'm a psychosomatic creation of your subconscious mind to help you deal with things you would rather avoid.”

  “Dream, ghost, whatever you just said…it doesn't really matter. I like having you around.”

  He smiled. “Good.”

  At that moment, something came crashing through the leaves caused me to jump with a frightened yelp. For a terrifying second I was back to that night with someone leaping out of the trees and tackling me. Then I remembered where and when I was just as a large black lab came bounding out of the woods.

  “Champ!” someone called, presumably the dog's owner. I looked back at the bridge, but as I'd expected Seth was gone. The dog stopped, looked expectantly at me for a moment, then turned and ran back towards his owner. Once again I was alone. And suddenly it all caught up with me. A ragged sob exploded painfully from my throat and I slowly collapsed to ground. I cried there for what must have been twenty minutes as the sun finished setting and the newly installed security lights flickered on. I remained blessedly uninterrupted until I was cried out. Not even the dog came back around the pond. Finally I was able to pull myself together enough to pull myself up and stagger off towards the car. I drove home and went straight upstairs, managing to avoid any encounters with anyone who may have raised questions about my disheveled, tear streaked, red-rimmed eyes, grass stained, dirt covered appearance.

  I turned on the light in my room and started stripping off my clothes. As I did my eyes fell on a white card propped up on my desk, Micah's card. I dropped the shirt in my hand and walked over to the card. I picked it up, flipping it over in my hand. I stared at the numbers written on the back. Almost without thinking my hand reached out for the phone. I dialed his cell number and listened to the rings.

  “Hello?” he answered.

  “Micah, this is Killian Kendall, do you remember me?”

  “Yeah, of course. How's the case going?”

  “I think my parts over with. You helped out a lot. Listen, do you still want to get together sometime soon?”

  Chapter 23

  No one understood why I was so moody the next day and I didn't feel like enlightening them. Asher called several times but I refused to accept his calls at home and simply hung up on him at work. I guess he knew better than to just show up. I have no idea what I would have done but it wouldn't have been pretty.

  Micah had jumped at my suggestion that we get together. In fact, he'd suggested we go out the next night so he was supposed to pick me up early that evening. I just had time to run home and grab a shower before he would get there. He wouldn't tell me what we were doing, just told me to dress for fun. I wasn't sure what that meant. Did I even have any fun clothes?

  I was running around in a towel trying to choose something when Adam popped into my room.

  “So what's all the excitement? I haven't seen you this jittery in ages. You have a date?”

  “Actually I do,” I said, “And I have no idea what to wear.”

  “You do? A real date? With who? I haven't approved!”

  I stopped cold and looked up in surprise.

  “I'm kidding, Killian. I don't have to approve your dates.”

  “Oh. His name is Micah, he's a reporter. He helped me with this last case and he asked me out. I finally said yes.”

  “Tell me about him. While you do I'll help you pick out something to wear.”

  “Well, he's cute,” I sat do
wn on the edge of the bed and began describing Micah while Adam rummaged through my closest. “He's about 22 or 23, brown hair, brown eyes. His hair does this really cute floppy thing and he has the most incredible dimples.”

  “Sounds adorable, but is he a nice guy? That's more important than looks.” He held up a pair of faded jeans with a black silk shirt with silver Chinese symbols on it.

  “He seems really nice. And I don't want to look like Jackie Chan. He said to dress fun, what does that mean?”

  “Fun, huh? Let's see…” He looked at my clothes again and shook his head. “For a gay boy you have the straightest wardrobe I've ever seen. Put these on and I'll be right back.” He handed me a pair of dark blue cargo pants that were made out of this soft clingy material. I loved them because they made my ass look great. I was pleased that he'd chosen them.

  He left the room and a few minutes later I heard him rummaging around up in the attic. Now what on earth could be up there? I was sitting on the edge of the bed wearing just the pants when he came back in looking a little dustier than he had when he left. He had several shirts in his arms.

  “These were Seth's,” he said as he dropped them next to me on the bed. My breath caught in my throat. I couldn't believe he wanted me to wear Seth's clothes. “I just couldn't give them away although I had no idea why I was holding on to them.” He held up the first one, a retro 70's era lavender polyester atrocity. Well, he was acting like it was no big deal so I decided to play along.

  “I'm not wearing that,” I said firmly.

  “No, it's a bit…much. Besides, it wouldn't match those pants.” He picked up the next one. It was a red ribbed shirt with a scoop collar and very short sleeves. “Try this on.”

  I pulled it on and started giggling. “I think I need to be a little more built to pull this off.”

  “Ok, off.” The third one was a white button up with a pointy collar made of a slightly shiny material.

  “I like that one,” I said. I thought I remembered seeing Seth wear it.

  “Me too. Try it on.”

  I shrugged into it and buttoned it up and stood in front of the mirror. It was slightly form fitting, but not too much. I loved it.