Transience

by Stevan Mena

Laura paused a moment. "She keeps asking to go home." Jack looked at Laura. They both knew at that moment where she might be headed.

  The rain streaked on Jack's dirty windshield, his wipers on the fastest setting, rocking back and forth as if they might fly off into the night. Jack had a swivel searchlight mounted on the side of his door. He rolled down the window and shined it along the dark side streets. He turned a corner and continued, twisting it back and forth, searching while trying to drive a straight line.

  "This is my fault," Laura cried.

  "No, it isn't. You've done everything right. If you want to blame anyone, blame me. I should never have brought her out there."

  Jack turned another corner; they headed into the urban area of town. Laura looked up and recognized the street they were on. And where it led.

  "I know this road," Laura said. Their eyes met for a moment, both thinking the same thing.

  "This is crazy. She's so confused. All these thoughts have been put into her head, she's starting to believe it. It's all been twisted."

  Jack held his tongue. He didn't want to upset Laura, add to her plate — it wasn't the time to bring up the painting he saw at the rec center gallery, inform her that Carmen somehow had a vision of her future incarnation and committed it to canvas. Maybe, when she was ready, he'd let Laura see it for herself. Dispel any doubt, like the kind that was beginning to creep into his own mind, the more he thought about Bishop.

  Jack saw something reflect his light in the distance.

  "Look," Jack pointed.

  As he drove closer he could see the spokes of Rebecca's upended bicycle, the tire still spinning.

  "How did she know to come this way? That Carmen lived over in this area?" Jack asked.

  "Her address is written down in my phone book, Rebecca was looking through it last night."

  Of course. Common sense versus the supernatural was waging war inside Jack's head. But…there are no coincidences. Are there?

  "Is that her?" Jack pulled up along the shoulder.

  "Oh my God!" Laura screamed. Jack climbed out of the car into the tall grass. He passed the bike, the chain had come undone again. Rebecca was lying face down in the mud, a few feet away.

  "Is she alright?" Laura raced to join him.

  They crouched beside her. Jack carefully turned her over onto her back. The heavy rain splashed onto Rebecca's face, rinsing off some of the mud. Her eyes fluttered. Jack crouched over her to shield her from the rain.

  "Rebecca?" they both said at the same time. Laura brushed some of the dirt away from Rebecca's cheeks and nose. Rebecca opened her eyes and looked up at Jack.

  "It broke again," she said, her voice shallow and weak.

  "You had us worried sick!" Laura said, trying to calm down.

  Us? It sounded strange to Jack, to hear a woman say us, referring to him.

  "Let's get her in the car," Jack said. Using all the strength he had left, Jack hoisted her up and carried her. Laura opened the door and Jack slid Rebecca into the back seat.

  Laura climbed in next to her, to hold and comfort Rebecca on the ride home. Jack quickly retrieved Rebecca's bicycle and placed it in the trunk, then got back in the car.

  He leaned over the seat to make sure everyone was okay. Rebecca was sitting up, breathing loudly through her nose as Laura wiped mud from her cheeks and hair. Jack spun around to grab the wheel and put the car in drive. He hung a U-turn and sped off.

  "Why did you run away?" Laura asked.

  "I just…wanted to see…" Rebecca trailed off. Jack's eyes found her in his rearview mirror.

  "What brought you all the way out here, Rebecca?" Jack asked.

  Rebecca hesitated, "Just a feeling."

  "Like a gut feeling?" Jack asked. She dropped her head onto Laura's shoulder. Her hair dripped small round droplets onto Laura's hand.

  "You don't understand. No one understands."

  "We do understand," Laura said.

  "Everyone thinks I'm crazy." A drop of rain dripped from the tip of Rebecca's nose. She blew it off defiantly.

  "No one thinks you're crazy," Laura said.

  "I just don’t want to be scared anymore."

  "Me neither," Laura said, pulling her close.

  Rebecca's eyes closed from exhaustion. Jack watched the two of them in the mirror. Laura returned his gaze, her expression said "thank you."

  No thanks necessary…

  CHAPTER 50

  Laura entered the kitchen. "She's asleep, finally." Jack sat at the kitchen table, a half empty coffee cup in front of him. She poured herself a cup and sat down in the seat across from him, wiping her hands down her face, emotionally spent. They sat in silence for a few moments.

  "Sounds like the rain is letting up," Jack said, just trying to make conversation. The clock above the sink ticked loudly in the quiet.

  "I'm sorry for the other day."

  Jack shook his head. "It was my mistake to bring her there."

  "Thanks for helping me tonight. I just don't know what to do anymore." Laura cupped both hands around her coffee mug. She slowly lifted it to her lips and took a short sip. Jack noticed her hands were trembling.

  He turned away and looked over at some of Rebecca's artwork displayed on the fridge. Jack grinned, even her doodles were fantastic. He wondered if Laura ever knew what it was like to have a child, a real child. Rebecca seemed so old in her skin. Was she ever just simple, innocent?

  There was a small photo of Rebecca as a baby sitting on Santa's lap, one of those expensive photos people stood in line at the mall for hours to get. Her smile was big and bright.

  Next to the photo was a drawing of a dog. Jack squinted to focus. It bore a striking resemblance to the dog that licked his face at Hester's home. A Collie, same markings around the eyes. Jack marveled at how Rebecca's renderings were so accurate; even when she doodled a sketch of a dog, you could not only clearly tell it was a dog, but what damn breed it was.

  Laura looked at Jack and followed his line of vision.

  "She's always been drawing. Since she could hold a crayon. When she was five years old, she drew a picture of the baby sitter. It was so lifelike. When I arrived home she up and quit, said Becca was possessed. I reported her. What happens when you hire out of the Penny-saver. Not sure what I was thinking." Laura took a sip of her coffee, then rubbed her arms briskly, a shiver. "The doctor, Hellerman, he tried to tell me. I didn't want to listen."

  "What were you afraid of?"

  "I don't know. The more I think about it, the more things I remember her doing or saying that just don't make sense. Things she knew that she shouldn't have known. Things about me. When she started drawing, it frightened me. Her talent, it wasn't natural. I just wanted my little girl. I don't know. So much shit in my life… I guess, I was afraid somehow of losing her too. If she started believing all this craziness, what then? I needed to be the voice of reason for her." Laura rubbed her hands together, scratching at her knuckles nervously. "You knew where she was going tonight."

  "I suspected," Jack said.

  "I want to help her. But how?"

  Jack looked across at the drawings on the fridge again. "Maybe it's like when a child finds out they're adopted. Suddenly they have to go back, re-imagine their entire life as it might have been. Their first instinct is to try and find out who they really are, where they come from."

  "I'm her mother. She came from me," Laura said sharply. Jack finished off the last of his coffee. He pushed out his chair a little, ready to get going.

  "You want some more coffee?" Laura asked, rising to grab the pot.

  Jack shook his head. "I really should get back. We're holding a suspect in custody." Laura refilled his cup anyway.

  "Can I ask you a question?" Jack shrugged and waited. "How long have you had it?" Jack played dumb. She sat back down, not taking her eyes off him. "I know what cancer looks like."

  Jack's eyes slowly drifted from hers down to his coffee. "My father had it," Laura continued, "thin as his sheets w
hen he died."

  "They didn't tell me how long I've had it, just how long I will have it."

  "I'm sorry," Laura said. Jack shrugged indifferently.

  "When did your father pass away?" Jack asked.

  "Last June. It took him getting sick for us to finally reconcile." Laura let out a long sigh. "He had scotch for breakfast. I left home to escape the abuse, then married into it. When my father got sick, I refused to visit. Until he was admitted to the hospital. I figured…I could keep my distance there."

  Laura sniffled, containing it. She saw Jack was still listening so she continued, "I saw that big, frightening force reduced to a helpless pile of bones. I almost felt sorry for him. And for the first time, we actually had a normal conversation, father-daughter." Laura remembered something and smiled. "He commented on how nice my hair looked." She puffed air at the thought, drifting back. "He never paid me a compliment my whole life. It was such a simple gesture…"

  Jack watched her fingers as they nervously traced the handle on her coffee cup over and over. Clearly, he was the first person she had opened up to about this.

  "I realized, all this time…he was just a prisoner in a bottle. I know it's not an excuse to justify what he did — how he treated us — but that's how I was able to forgive him. The day they prepped him for surgery, I had to work late. I arrived just as they were wheeling him into the operating room. He smiled, 'See ya soon.' I wanted to say I love you so badly, but all that came out was 'good luck.'"

  Jack nodded, knowing how the story will end.

  "When the doctor came out, I just knew. My father was a very bitter man. Looking back, he wasn't blessed with much luck in his life. Just one disappointment after another. I think, in the end, that bitterness ate him up inside."

  Jack's face was still as he listened.

  Laura exhaled; telling that story took a lot out of her, but sharing it also seemed to lift a weight from her shoulders. "How's your family taking it?" she asked. Jack simply shrugged. "Don't you have any family?"

  "…I have a brother."

  "Does he help out?"

  "We don't speak."

  "Why?"

  Jack rolled his tongue over his front teeth. "Long story."

  "Sometimes it's easier to talk to a stranger." Laura leaned forward and gently placed her soft hand atop his. It was warm.

  He looked into her eyes. "I don't consider you a stranger." Laura smiled a satisfied smile. Jack scratched at his 5 o'clock shadow and pursed his lips, hesitating, searching for the words.

  "About 12 years ago, we were at a restaurant, it was my birthday. Me, him, his wife Trish, and my wife…Sarah." It pained Jack just to speak her name. "We were all pretty liquored up. I got called in to the station. I should have never answered the page. My brother said he'd drive Sarah home. I was so wrapped up in my case, I didn't—" Jack beat himself up emotionally, clenching his fist and lifting it to his forehead, tapping it. "They stayed late. He dropped Trish off, then drove Sarah home. Trish asked her to just stay the night, but she had to get up for work in the morning. My brother was in no shape to drive."

  Jack rubbed his nose and cleared his throat, which was getting dry. "I got a call at the station. Their car had veered into oncoming traffic."

  Laura covered her mouth with her fingertips. "Oh God," she whispered.

  "When I arrived at the hospital, Sarah was in surgery." Jack's face hardened, recounting this caused him physical pain. "Standing next to me in the lobby were two sisters discussing their father. He'd been shot during a holdup at his jewelry store. The bullet miraculously missed his heart. They praised God for watching over him. At that same moment, the surgeon came out and told me they had done all they could…but my wife was gone."

  Jack looked at Laura. "All I can remember thinking was…does that mean God wasn't watching over Sarah? Didn't God love my wife too?"

  The emotion hung thick in the air. Jack's head bobbed a little, the memory coursing sorrow through his veins. "My brother and I never spoke again. I wouldn't even let him attend her funeral."

  "You haven't spoken in 12 years?"

  "Actually, I'm going to be an uncle."

  "Then now's your chance."

  "For what?"

  "To make things right."

  Jack shook his head. "Never thought I'd be afraid."

  "Of what?"

  "Dying."

  Laura got up and moved to the chair beside him. She held his hand again. Her touch eased Jack's blood pressure, his tight shoulders relaxed. "Don't carry that anger with you," she said with the softest of voices. It was like silk to Jack's ears; angelic, like the voice from his dream. "Get rid of it, while there's still time."

  Jack gazed into Laura's eyes. No one had listened to him in a long while. Laura was thinking the same thing. There was a feeling of mutual respect and empathy, they had connected on a deep level. Jack contemplated kissing her; he felt his body leaning forward.

  Just then his phone rang, shattering the moment. He answered it.

  "Ridge."

  "Jack, where are you?" Harrington said.

  "What is it?" Jack asked. Laura sensed the urgency in his voice and stood up to give him some space.

  "Teresa Mason is dead."

  Jack nodded solemnly. "I'm on my way."

  Jack pushed out his chair and stood up wincing, his legs had fallen asleep. "I have to go."

  "Are you gonna be okay?"

  Jack nodded. "Laura, if you need anything…" This time he touched her arm.

  "I was going to say the same to you."

  He grimaced and exited the kitchen. As he passed through the living room, he spotted Rebecca curled up asleep on the couch. He slipped past her quietly.

  He took Carmen's gold necklace out from his coat pocket and placed it on the table beside her. As he closed the front door, Rebecca opened her eyes.

  CHAPTER 51

  Jennifer greeted Jack at the front entrance of the precinct to walk him in. He sensed an urgency at her presence.

  "About time," Jennifer said, "after Harrington confronted him with news of Teresa's death, he started babbling about how lucky we were."

  "Lucky?"

  "Said he was ready to confess. Harrington's in with him right now."

  "To killing Teresa Mason?"

  "All of them. Where've you been?" They turned a corner and headed for the interrogation room, Jennifer had to keep slowing down to not leave Jack in the dust. Her last comment sucked the spring out of his step.

  They entered the holding area, Jack peered in at Bishop through the two-way mirror. Harrington was inside, standing over him menacingly, shouting.

  Jennifer stood beside Jack and spoke softly, "He knew that Ketamine was the drug used to incapacitate several of the victims - I checked the prior toxicology reports. Traces were found in his van."

  Jack nodded. "It's a common rape drug."

  "He also knew where the bodies were found, post-mortem specifics."

  "Those details have been published in every newspaper."

  "We checked into his work history at Baxter Mills, one of their contracts is with Monroe College for the Arts. Bishop was employed there during the time Carmen Muniz was a student. It links him with proximity."

  Jack's expression clouded, "What about Angelina?" Jennifer reluctantly switched on the speaker so they could listen in on Harrington's interrogation.

  "I want to hear it again," Harrington said, his voice on the speaker sounding condensed and small, as if transmitting from a CB radio miles away. Bishop, exhausted, mumbled something incoherent. Jack leaned his ear towards the speaker.

  "Speak up!" Harrington shouted, kicking a leg of Bishop's chair, jolting him upright.

  "The sedation began to wear off," Bishop began, "I knew she would scream… I choked her until she went unconscious again. But she wouldn't stay out, so I grabbed a rock…hit her in the head. She started bleeding from everywhere, wouldn't stop screaming, so I kept hitting her."

  Jack listened, his eyes
tightened to narrow slits, still skeptical. He folded his arms and stood with legs shoulder width apart, his head tilted to one side.

  Harrington put his hands on the table and leaned into Bishop's face. "You used a rock to crush her skull."

  "No choice," Bishop said, avoiding eye contact. Harrington sat down.

  "Where is she now?"

  Bishop mumbled again, "You won't have to dig to find her."

  Harrington slammed his fist on the table. "Speak up!"

  "The reservoir."

  "State for the record, Mr. Edward Bishop has just confessed to the abduction and murder of Angelina Rosa," Harrington enunciated for clarity.

  Jack winced, the small candle of hope that fueled his purpose flickered and was extinguished. Jennifer could almost smell the smoke. She backed away and gave the man space, a man she respected, who never had an ill word for anyone. The man that inspired others to work harder, stay up longer, honor the badge.

  "I'm sorry Jack," was all she could offer. Jack shook his head, not accepting it.

  "No, but she, she looked right at him." Jack mumbled.

  "What?"

  "I need to speak to him."

  Jack burst into the interrogation room, startling both Harrington and Bishop. Harrington spotted the purpose in Jack's step and quickly vacated the chair. Jack sat down and placed a picture of Carmen Muniz on the table under Bishop's nose.

  "Tell me about her," Jack said, like a cynic about to ruin a magician's trick. Harrington watched with intrigue.

  Bishop's eyes crisscrossed the photo. "I already told them everything."

  "I want you to tell me."

  Bishop looked down at the picture again, picking at his teeth with a dirty fingernail.

  "Did you know her?" Jack asked. A tiny jagged smile crept across Bishop's face. Jack fought back the urge to take out his .38 and cut him down right there. He composed himself. "Did you rape her?"

  Bishop grinned an ugly grin. He picked up the picture, leaned back as if reminiscing with it, expanding his chest, proud of his accomplishment. He turned the picture so Jack could see. "Look at that mouth."

  Bishop flipped the picture back onto the table. Harrington flexed, anticipating Jack's reaction to be violent. Surprisingly, Jack remained calm and dignified; he merely clenched his jaw and proceeded.