by Julia Derek
It will only get worse when he reaches the spot where he saw Lexi seated outside a small deli, wearing hardly any clothes in the Indian summer heat, soliciting money from passersby on the street. Now it’s winter, rainy and freezing cold, not summer and warm like it had been that late afternoon. But he still feels compelled to go see if she is there. He can’t imagine why she would be there, but you never know. He never thought she would disappear on him again, didn’t see it coming at all, yet that’s what she did. Anything seems possible now.
While the private investigator he has found—Hans Rutherford—combs the city in search of her, using all of his expertise, Jason will do what he can to help find her as well. There is no way he will be able to sit at home and just wait for the P.I. or the cops to call him with news about Lexi. He has to do something or he will drive himself crazy, pacing their apartment while willing his phone to light up with an incoming call.
Yes, you never know, he keeps on repeating to himself as he gets closer and closer to the area where he spotted her the first time, not wanting to admit the real reason he is doing this. The real reason he has come to this part of Brooklyn this miserable afternoon. He has come here because he needs to see with his own eyes if she has returned to Herman. That is what he truly fears, almost as much as he fears her having committed suicide if he is going to be honest with himself. Because if she has returned to this man, it means their marriage is over.
Jason knows himself; he won’t be able to get over her sleeping with this man a second time. It was hard enough to get over it the first time it happened. He doesn’t even think he has fully gotten over that yet. Not the way thoughts of it keep coming back to him almost every day. Yes, seeing her with him again would kill him. So the more time he can buy himself before finding that out, the better. Which is why he is pacing the streets here in Brooklyn, telling himself that he might spot Lexi somewhere.
When he brought up his worry to Officer Garcia right before leaving the station this morning, she told him that she didn’t think Lexi had returned to Herman. Lexi’s psychiatrist, Dr. Meyer, whom Jason contacted earlier, and Rutherford, a seasoned investigator, had both agreed. Why would she go back to him? they all asked him. She was drunk and depressed at the time, and the man had just happened to have found her and agreed to take her in because he felt sorry for her. It had merely been a convenient exchange for the two of them—she got a roof over her head while pursuing her goal to drink herself to death and the man got company. It had been nothing more than that.
Jason agreed with them, but he also thought that, while what they were saying was true, none of them know Lexi the way Jason knows her. They didn’t see how happy she seemed when she walked beside that dirty, poor bum as Jason followed them to his apartment building. How she was smiling up at him and leaning into him, enjoying the fact that he had slung an arm around her shoulders. They didn’t see how truly sad she was when Jason came to get her away from there, from that man.
Of course, Jason knew part of the sadness could be attributed to the fact that he reminded her of their dead daughter again, but he wasn’t so sure it was only due to that. Especially since Lexi never again mentioned how badly their similar features brought back difficult memories. She may not have resisted him bringing her back home, but neither had she been happy about it. She seemed completely indifferent, like she was nothing more than a walking ragdoll as he’d pulled her away from those pot-holed streets.
If Jason is going to be completely honest with himself, he really doesn’t know if she’d have preferred staying with Herman. Forever or until she had drunk herself to death since that had been her plan as she arrived in Brooklyn—find a cheap place to stay under a fake name and fill herself with so much alcohol her organs eventually shut down. In addition to taking a cash advance on her credit card, she had sold all her jewelry and designer clothes while still in Florida to buy alcohol and be able to rent a dirt cheap room somewhere close to the cemetery where their daughter was buried. While rambling around drunk on the streets in the Brooklyn neighborhood, she had finally passed out at a street corner. Herman found her as he was walking home and took her to his place to let her sober up there. He convinced her to move in with him the next day, and she did, figuring he would be the right company for her purpose. At that point, she had already been in Brooklyn for some time, but she can’t remember for how long. It could have been days or several weeks. She can’t remember if she used all her money for alcohol or if someone stole it from her. All she knows is that, by the time she met Herman, she was broke.
Over the last few years, Jason caught Lexi several times with a faraway look in her eyes and a sentimental smile on her lips. When he asked her what she was thinking about, she just shook her head and the smile vanished, often replaced by a frown instead, as though he had asked her something utterly inappropriate. He felt sure she had been thinking of Herman on those occasions.
Herman. He hates that stupid name. Just thinking about it makes Jason physically ill.
Jason spits on the ground before him as he keeps walking along Flatbush Avenue in the direction of the little deli that is only four blocks away from Herman’s apartment building. He is almost there now. The rain keeps whipping his face, often getting into his eyes. He keeps wiping at it with his hands, regretting not having brought an umbrella. He had known it would rain.
The closer he gets to the deli, the stronger the fear of finding his wife with Herman becomes. He no longer knows what would be worse—finding that Lexi has willingly returned to this man or that she is dead, having taken her own life with the help of her father’s gun. The answer should be clear, simple—her suicide is worse, of course—but Jason grows increasingly unsure of this. It just isn’t so simple to him. His heart screams with agony at the thought of Lexi being with Herman. He will ultimately have to accept it if this is her choice, as impossible as that seems right now. He will have to let her go if she refuses to come back with him this time. He just doesn’t know how he will be able to live with it.
As he has suspected, there is no Lexi sitting on the dirty, wet asphalt outside the little deli, asking for money out in the freezing rain. There are no homeless people sitting out there at all, barely any people walking outside on the street even. Still, he hangs around in this area for several more minutes, as if he thinks that Lexi will magically appear and thank him for coming to get her once again. Truly thank him this time. Not just look at him with eyes that underneath all those tears are really rather indifferent at seeing him again after such a long time apart. He would rather have seen fury, hate, annoyance—any emotion, even a negative one, would have been better than indifference. After all, the distance between love and hate is a lot closer than the one between love and indifference. But of course she never appears, so finally Jason has to get moving, head toward his real destination. Face the bitter reality at last, if that is what God has in store for him.
He walks at a medium pace, keeping his face down to avoid getting hit by the rain that has turned into needles of ice now, stinging his skin. Should he buy an umbrella in one of the drugstores or delis he passes? He decides not to, not wanting to waste more time to deal with what is to come. Better to get it over it.
It doesn’t take long before he reaches the street and the building where Herman lives. Having been there more than once, the address has always stuck with Jason—369 Flatbush Avenue.
He raises his gaze and walks with heavy steps toward the six-story building, slowing his pace a little. As he reaches the front door, he realizes that he, even though he was back to talk to Herman once and remembers his street address, he can’t remember which apartment Herman lives in, only that it’s not on the bottom floor. The names on the gate buzzer list next to the door are so blurry that he can’t make them out even if he shines the flashlight on his smartphone on them. Well, when I get inside, I should remember, he thinks.
He tries the front door to see if it’s open. It’s not.
Sighing, he prays
that one of the many tenants won’t mind buzzing him in. As he contemplates who to try first, someone opens the door and comes out of the building. A small, black woman wearing a hooded coat. She gives him a small nod and holds up the door for him so he can enter. He might as well go inside, he decides, and does, thanking the woman. Before she can get very far, it dawns on him that he is about to miss out on an opportunity. It has suddenly dawned on Jason that Herman might have moved.
“Excuse me, miss,” he calls after her. She stops in her tracks and turns toward him.
“Do you know someone called Herman Jackson?” he asks. “I was told he lives here.”
“Herman? Yes, Herman lives here. In 4 C.”
“Thank you.”
She gives him another nod, then swivels around and is on her way again. He walks deeper into the dark, smelly apartment building and begins climbing the stairs, having found no elevator. Again, he takes his time, the eagerness to get it over with not as strong any longer, and weakening with every step upward he takes now. Whatever might be going on with Lexi and this man, he is in no hurry to find out. It just can’t be good news.
Finally, he is standing outside the apartment door that says 4 C. It is completely quiet in the hallway and the light bulb in the ceiling has lost some of its wattage, casting a bleak light over the threadbare stairwell. Sadness mixed with a sharp sense of terror grabs his heart, paralyzing him for some time. His entire body screams a silent no, don’t do it. Leave this floor, this building and go home. If you find her here with him again, you may do something you regret. The police or Rutherford will eventually find her here if she is indeed in there.
Is she worth killing for?
But of course he can’t just leave without knowing if she is there or not. So he raises his hand and presses the white doorbell. No sound follows, suggesting that the bell must be broken. He tries a couple more times with the same result. Finally he raps his knuckles over the wooden apartment door, hard three times. As he waits to hear footsteps approaching the door from inside the apartment, he holds his breath, his heart banging like a madman against his ribcage. He waits and waits, knocks on the door again, harder, but no one comes to answer it.
Well, he can’t count on Herman being at home only because it is raining outside and he wants him to be. Jason looks around the quiet stairwell. There are three other apartment doors in addition to Herman’s there. What shall he do? Wait and see if Herman and—God forbid—Lexi show up… ? Eventually at least Herman has to show up, since he lives here still according to the girl who let him in the building.
Not knowing what else to do, he decides that he will wait for Herman to come home. There is nothing for him to do but that. He might as well pace the floor here instead of the one in their apartment, while waiting to hear from the police or Rutherford. At least this way something useful might come out of his pacing.
Less than three hours later and a couple of raised brows by neighbors finding him there, Jason’s patient wait pays off. Herman is coming up the stairs, hunched over like he is very tired. When Jason notes that he is alone, he let out a silent breath of relief.
Wearing a dark, ragged coat and a hat that drips water, Herman pauses at the sight of Jason standing a couple of feet away from his apartment door. Jason isn’t sure if the older man recognizes him; if he does, his body language doesn’t give it away. Jason doesn’t think he does; after all, it was five years ago since they spoke and only briefly.
“Can I help you?” Herman asks in a cautious but friendly tone.
“Is Lexi with you?” Jason blurts out, his voice jagged with jealousy. He can’t help himself; the need to find out is too overwhelming.
The other man looks confused. “Who is Lexi?”
“My wife. She stayed with you for a few months five years ago. Small woman, slender with a large bust. She had short, black hair back then.”
As Herman seems to be pondering Jason’s words, Jason suddenly remembers that Lexi called herself Jenny back then. Jenny Smith so that Jason wouldn’t be able to find her.
“She called herself Jenny back then,” Jason says. “I was here once to talk about her with you, remember?”
Herman’s face lights up like a Christmas tree.
“Ah, Jenny!” he says and smiles a little. “Sweet Jenny who always liked her alcohol neat…” He peers at Jason from under his hat. “I remember you now. You guys got married?”
It takes all that Jason has got not to throw himself at Herman with his flippant tone of voice and start pounding him. Why is the bum asking him if they’re married? What the hell kinda question is that? Then Jason remembers that he had in fact only told Herman that he was Jenny’s boyfriend at the time they spoke. He hadn’t even bothered to inform the bum that Jenny’s real name was Lexi. There had been no point when all Jason had needed was for Herman to talk to Lexi over the phone, assure her that he had never once left Brooklyn since she got back to Manhattan.
“Yeah, we’re married now,” Jason replies in a clipped voice, his hands fisted. “Is she back here or not? Have you seen her?”
The reminiscing grin on Herman’s lips turns hesitant and he has the decency to look a little embarrassed at last. “Nah, not in a long time. Years. Not since the day she disappeared. You threw her out again?”
What the…“No, I didn’t throw her out!” he hisses at Herman, struggling to keep his voice even. “I’ve never thrown her out. We just decided to spend some time apart because—” he cuts himself short. He never bothered to enlighten this bum about the reasons Lexi left him that first time, and he certainly doesn’t need to do so now. Not that he knows anyway. “It doesn’t matter. So you’re telling me she isn’t with you again?”
The man tsks, shaking his head. “I wish.”
A flash of hot jealousy shoots through Jason as he glares at the man with furious eyes and clenches his fists tighter. Herman seems to have turned oblivious to whom he is speaking all of a sudden. Jason sucks in a quiet breath to calm down the fire within him and not to jump on top of Herman, beat some sense into the bastard. He doubts that it will result in anything but giving Jason the satisfaction of turning the bum into a bloody pulp. Besides, what Herman just said makes sense if she isn’t with him. And that’s all that Jason really cares about anyway
Before Jason can ask the other man if he is absolutely sure he doesn’t know where Lexi is, a haggard woman walks up the stairs, carrying a plastic bag full of something bulky. Her blonde hair is stringy with gray streaks and her skin is pockmarked, and she moves as though she is asleep. She stops at the sight of Jason and Herman, who are both standing in front of Herman’s apartment door.
Her bleary, baggy eyes go between the two men and finally end up on Herman.
“You got a visitor?” she asks him, her voice hoarse like she has smoked too many cigarettes in her day.
Herman glances at Jason and shrugs. “Nah, he’s just here looking for his wife.”
“Oh,” the woman says. “You know her? She live in the neighborhood?”
Herman shakes his head. “No, pumpkin. Not anymore.”
The woman nods and continues toward the apartment door. As she opens the door, Herman nods to the woman. “That’s my girlfriend, Annie. If there’s nothing more you wanna know, I’m gonna go inside with her.”
As Jason watches Annie disappear into the dark apartment, he decides he’ll be wasting his time by probing the bum before him anymore. If he has a girlfriend, it isn’t likely that he has Lexi in there with him. Especially since the girlfriend doesn’t seem to have any idea what he is talking about.
Jason shakes his head. “No. Thanks.” He can’t make himself say the word goodbye to Herman and instead just swivels around and begins descending the stairs. A clump of unease is materializing in his stomach and is growing larger and larger. He knows he should be relieved that Lexi hasn’t gone back to Herman, be happy, but he can’t be. If Lexi isn’t with Herman, then where can she be? Now that he is faced with the most likely answ
er, he realizes that maybe it would have been better if she had found her way back to Herman after all. At least that meant that she would be alive still.
Dread streams through his veins as he keeps going down the stairs. He sticks his hand down his jacket pocket and finds his smartphone. No messages, which shouldn’t surprise him since he has the volume turned up as loud as it can go and has put it on vibrate. He would have felt it if someone tried to contact him. Rutherford and Officer Garcia have both promised him that they will contact him immediately as soon as they learn something about Lexi’s whereabouts, and so have Sue Ann and John and Claudette. Anybody who knows that Lexi is gone. Clearly, there is no progress on their end either. By now Lexi has been missing more than twenty-four hours. Jason has heard that the longer someone is missing, the bigger the chance that they won’t be found alive.
As he reaches the front door in the apartment building, he stops for a second and grasps the knob, unable to turn it and push the door open. All he can do is think, Please. Oh God, please.
Don’t let her die, too.
Chapter 24
FIVE YEARS EARLIER
Jason took me to a doctor as soon as we returned to Manhattan straight from Herman’s apartment. It took a few hours before I got to see the doctor.
When I saw my husband standing there as I turned the street corner to pick up the booze Herman and I forgot as we walked home, I didn’t know what to think. At first I tried to hide from the handsome, dark-haired man with the piercing blue eyes standing right behind the building. I thought he was a stranger out to get me the way he was staring at me—and not get me in a good way.
