by A. J. Norris
“Fine, I guess,” she sighed. “I have another ultrasound and more testing in a couple of weeks. But I heard the heartbeat and doctor says it sounded strong.”
“Oh yeah?” He smiled broadly, couldn’t help himself. Rudy smiled. “Yeah, I’m gonna be a dad again, so what? Go ahead make an old man joke.”
“Harry…” Natalie started but Rudy interrupted.
“Whoa, is that what I overheard? You won’t get any over-the-hill jokes from me. Congratulations, you two.” He clapped Harry on the back. “That’s great news.”
“Thanks.” Harry glanced at his girlfriend. She set her lips into a thin line and cast her eyes downward. No one spoke for a minute.
“Let’s get this car moved,” Rudy said, and headed toward the tree line.
Harry shrugged at Natalie when she looked up. “Was that okay?”
Natalie closed her eyes briefly. “You don’t have to stay, we got this.” Her voice was full of contempt.
“What did I do, I’m sorry if—”
“You don’t get what you just did, do you?”
“Why don’t you tell me.”
Tears welled in her eyes. “You don’t understand.”
No. I’m clueless.
“Ask your daughter, I’m sure she’ll explain it to you.”
What the hell did he do? “I thought…”
She put her hand up, silencing him, and walked away. “Go back to work,” she called over her shoulder.
“I am at work,” he called as he followed her to the woods.
“Rudy and I can handle an abandoned car without you.”
Harry kept his mouth shut; arguing wasn’t going to help anything.
Deep rutted tracks led to a dark blue car with California license plates. Cam’s to be precise. It sat in between some trees, twenty feet or so from the road. The front tires were stuck in the mushy ground. Dried mud splatters caked the sides of the car and wheel wells.
Harry peeked in the driver’s side window. He pulled on the door handle. Amazingly, it was unlocked. Nothing out of the ordinary stood out to him at first glance. Leaning into the car, he opened the glove compartment. Only the Owner’s Manual was in there, but the center console contained a small piece of folded up newspaper. He shook it open and read the small article.
An unknown suspect set a warehouse on fire Sunday evening. In the blaze, the body of a woman (name withheld) was discovered. It is believed she may have already been deceased at the time of the fire. Police and ATF officials are asking that anyone with information about the crime, please step forward and call this number…
Harry swore under his breath. He wasn’t sure why the article was left in there. What he did know, was that the car was cleaned out. Even the carpets looked like they had been shampooed recently. The leather brief bag he’d seen while the car was parked at the hospital was gone. If Cam had skipped town, why would he leave his car behind? And in the woods, where it would seem suspicious? He wanted Harry to find it.
“What the hell?”
“Did you find something?” Rudy asked.
“Yeah, newspaper clipping. The article is a couple years old, about a fire in California.”
“That’s odd, considering it looks like the rest of the car is empty.”
“Yep, definitely strange.”
Natalie backed the tow truck into the woods as far as she could without getting stuck in the mud herself. The door slammed and she came around and grabbed the cable at the back of the flatbed. “Gotta yank her out first before I can lift her,” she said to no one in particular. After attaching the thick steel cable to the back end of the car, she returned to the controls. The vehicle slowly crept over the ground toward the truck. Next she went for the heavy chains.
“We’re doing that,” Harry said sternly, waving Rudy over. The man followed the command, but hesitated when Natalie threw him a dirty look.
“They don’t weigh that much.” Her voice softened when she looked at Rudy. “Honestly, I’m fine. I don’t need your help.”
Harry had watched many tow truck drivers hook up cars, he knew what to do. He gently moved her out of the way and got to work. She groaned, stomped back to the cab, and got in. Fifteen minutes later, he approached the driver’s window. Natalie rolled down the window. “Finished?”
“Yeah, take it to—”
“Took you long enough, I could’ve been gone by now.” She stared straight ahead.
“Take her to the impound lot.”
Nodding, she zipped the window shut.
Fuck, what had he done wrong?
* * *
When got back to the station Harry laid the newspaper clipping on his desk. He took out his phone and dialed Grace. Much to his annoyance, he needed her advice. It wasn’t that he needed her advice that specifically bothered him, rather he needed anyone’s advice at all. His daughter picked up on the second ring.
“Everything’s fine,” he told her right away. She always worried if he called unexpectedly during the day. Cop’s daughter’s curse.
She giggled. “Okay.”
“I need,” he inhaled deeply, “I need your opinion on something.” There was a long pause. “Are you still there?”
“Yeah, Dad, I’m just surprised. About what?”
“You know about the baby.”
“Of course, we already talked about this. You have my support. I told you that.”
“I know, and thanks. She’s in her second trimester already, did you know that?”
“Yes, I was at the doctors with her.”
Harry rubbed the back of his neck. He’d missed the appointment. He was a shit. “She told me and I thought this was great news. Rudy was there and I told him she was pregnant.”
“You did what? Ah…I didn’t think she’d made a decision yet.”
“She’s in her second trimester.”
“So? You don’t realize what you did?”
“No. I thought everything was okay.”
“It probably is. I mean, I think more than likely she’s going to have the baby, but you stole her choice from her.”
“Her choice?”
Grace sighed. “Dad, she’s scared, and I would be too at her age. Heck, I’d be scared now if I was pregnant and I’m a lot younger.”
Shit! “I forced her hand….”
“I’m sure you were just excited to share the news, and I think she will understand that. Later. Much later. But now, I’d be on my hands and knees groveling if I were you.”
When had life become so complicated? The woman you love gets pregnant and you love the child with everything you have. Simple, right? Wrong. Christ, they hadn’t slept in the same bed together in a week. Hell, even the same house.
CHAPTER
THIRTY-SIX
Harry
At six o’clock in the evening, Harry crept down Washington Street, searching the house numbers for Sarah Donaldson’s address. Some time had passed since his initial interview with her at the hospital following her attack. He hoped she remembered her assailant. He found the bungalow style house with faded siding and pulled along the front curb. A crack ran down the center of the step and the porch looked like a cement-eating animal gnawed off the corners. Harry cautiously mounted the porch and rang the doorbell. He checked his notebook for Sarah’s boyfriend’s name.
Someone fumbled around inside, slammed a door. It fell silent, so Harry rang the bell again. More noise ensued until finally the door swung wide. The man’s hair stuck out as if he’d just woken from a nap. “If you’re trying to sell me something, I’m not—”
Harry held up his badge. “Mr. Franklin?”
“What can I help you with?”
“I’m detective Hunter. I need to speak with Sarah Donaldson. Is she home?”
The guy’s forehead crinkled. “She doesn’t live here.”
“Are you sure? I have a few questions to ask.”
“She told you she lives here?”
“This is the address she gave police.”
“I kicked her out a while ago.” Franklin pushed the door to close it, but Harry held it open.
“You know where she lives then?”
“No.”
The door swung shut and again Harry stopped it from slamming.
“Don’t give me a reason to arrest you.”
“For what?” he asked incredulously.
“Obstruction of justice, and being a general pain in the ass.” Harry muttered the last part. “Tell me where she lives and I’ll gladly leave you alone. I’ve had a long damn year.”
“I told you I don’t know.”
“Then why were you meeting her at Wallflowers, huh? The night she was assaulted. Maybe it was you who roughed her up. Wanting a little revenge.”
The guy’s eyes widened. “Hell no! I didn’t touch her. She lives in an apartment downtown, above that tat shop that was in all the news.”
“Ink Addiction?”
“Yeah, that’s the place.”
Fucking fantastic. This was exactly the news he didn’t need tonight. The woman lived next door to Cam and above his other suspect’s workplace. When Franklin closed the door, Harry stepped back and off the porch.
He headed downtown toward Ink Addiction. Rudy sent him a text about Cam’s car. He read the message at the next red light. The search warrant had been signed by a judge. Apparently they stuck together and wanted Heidi Merlow’s killer found as much as her father. They doused it with Luminal and couldn’t find a trace of blood inside, including the trunk. The carpet had even been stripped and the floor pans checked underneath.
He tossed his cell on the passenger seat and parked at Ink Addiction, right in Mikey’s reserved spot since the shop was closed. The door to the apartment above the shop was next to the large windows, recessed into a dark alcove. Harry banged on the door because there was no buzzer. Everything was quiet for a couple of minutes then Sarah spoke through the door. “Who is it?”
“Detective Hunter, Webster PD.”
Several deadbolts unlocked and the door creaked open. A chain was still in place. Her face appeared in the gap.
“May I ask you a few questions, Sarah?”
She closed the door, slid the chain over, and opened up. “I don’t know if I can be of any help. I still can’t remember the man who attacked me. The doctor says I may never remember, that my mind blocked it out. Happens sometimes with trauma.”
“May I come in?”
“No, I…no…” She shook her head.
“I understand. Listen, the police station offers free counseling to assault victims. All you have to do is call the—”
“No, thank you. Is there anything else?”
“Why did you lie about your address?”
Confusion marred her features. “I didn’t, I—what?”
“I just came from Timber Street, spoke with Mr. Franklin.”
“I don’t remember telling anyone that. I must have gotten confused. My head hurt so much that night.”
Harry believed her. She’d taken a beating and was hit by a car. Sarah was lucky to be breathing.
“Hey, did the police ever find my car?”
“Not yet. Sure you can’t tell me anything about that night? Before the bar, did you stop anywhere on the way there?”
“Not that I remember. I was sitting at Wallflowers waiting for my boy—ex-boyfriend to show and he never did.” She closed her eyes. “What I recalled I already told you about. He had tattoos peeking out of his long sleeves. The next thing I remember I woke at the hospital. I don’t even remember the ambulance ride.”
Harry flipped through his notes, thanked her, and let her go back upstairs.
CHAPTER
THIRTY-SEVEN
Harry admired older couples who stayed together until the end. When one died the other would follow soon after, maybe from a broken heart or because they had little keeping them on this Earth. Occasionally he’d see them sitting in a restaurant holding hands, like the pair in the booth across from him and Natalie. They still looked at each other with love in their eyes. He couldn’t help staring.
“Why do you keep looking over there?” Natalie asked.
“Huh? Oh, was I?”
“I think you know that. Is something the matter?”
“No,” he said, refocusing on the menu on the table in front of him. “Just wondering how long you think that couple has been together.”
“I dunno.” She shrugged. “Why don’t you ask them?”
Yeah, okay. He’d sound like a lunatic, or feel like a fool. When he’d first married Annie, they always believed that would be them one day. Old and frail yet still mentally spry, sitting on a park bench feeding pigeons. Man, was that a Norman Rockwell or what? He and Annie had only made it twenty-four years.
The wife of the older couple caught his eye and smiled. Hers were cloudy although still had a lot of life in them. “Nice early spring this year,” she said in a wobbly voice.
“Yes, it is.”
“It’s beautiful out,” Natalie said. “Excuse me, he and I were just wondering how long you two have been together.”
The husband and wife glanced at each other. “We’ll be celebrating sixty years this fall. And you?”
“Oh, we’re not married.”
“Forgive me, I thought since the gentleman is wearing…” He gestured at Harry’s hand.
Harry looked at his left hand. He spun his wedding ring around his finger with his other hand. It never occurred to him that he shouldn’t wear it. He cursed himself and couldn’t meet anyone in the eye, especially Natalie. The distance between them slayed him every day and night they spent apart. They had been ghosts living across the street from one another for weeks even though they still saw each other and occasionally had sex. Neither of them brought up the baby subject or talked at all. He was afraid. Maybe she was too. They’d agreed to meet at Hector’s today for a late lunch. Harry had agreed, to keep himself in her life. As if he was scared she’d forget about him like Annie was slipping away from him.
“He’s a widower,” Natalie clarified.
“Oh, we’re sorry for your loss.” The couple withdrew from the conversation and went back to eating, the only thing they could do during an awkward moment like this.
Widower. Harry took a deep breath. The word struck him as wrong. He wasn’t a widower, his wife had died. Widowers were sad, and lonely. At least that’s how he always pictured them. He was just a man whose wife had passed away. He wasn’t a widower, was he? He had the sad part down, and he couldn’t even tell the woman having his child he loved her. Pathetic was more like it. He sighed. It was hard for him to think about this.
Natalie clanked her fork down on her plate. “Harry? Are you all right?”
“No. Yeah, I’m fine, why?”
“Because your forehead has that big crease in the middle again. I know you haven’t been sleeping well. All you do when you stay over is toss and turn. To be honest, I’m worried about you.”
“I’m fine. I always get like this when I have a tough case.”
“Hm…something’s different.”
Of course something’s different, I love you and can’t seem to get the words out of my mouth. He bit the inside of his cheek when he chomped down on his Coney dog and groaned.
“Did you bite your tongue?” She leaned forward and reached for his hand.
“Cheek.” Harry rubbed the side of his face.
“Ouch.”
“You know, I never think of myself as a widower. I mean, I know that I am. My wife died. Of course, I know it. Does it bother you that I wear my wedding ring?”
“It’s only a ring. And I’ve begun to realize that it means you’re not ready to give her up. I’m not sure where that leaves us. Do I even fit into your world? I love you but I don’t deserve to be second place to her memory.” A single tear rolled down her cheek.
“I know you don’t.” He took a napkin from the table dispenser and handed it to her.
She wiped her nose.
“The fishing trip with Brayden is coming up.”
Harry nodded, too afraid to open his mouth. Perhaps if he stayed silent so would she.
“I think it will be good for you to get away from everyth—”
“Are you trying to get rid of me?”
“Brayden is excited.”
“Do you want me out of your life?”
Shaking her head, Natalie looked away. “No,” she croaked.
“What then?”
“How can you sit here and ask me what when you know already? I want you to tell me you love me,” Natalie whispered, looking at him with pleading eyes.
“Don’t look at me like that, please.”
“Like what?”
“Like I’m the one with all the power to end things here. I’m not. So let’s make that clear. I’m not going to go away willingly. If you want me gone from your life, you’ll have to be the one that makes that decision.”
“I don’t want you gone from my life. I just want to be the love of your life. Right now. Not of the past, not of the future, because who knows what the future will bring? Just right now. Is that too much to ask?”
“No,” he whispered. “No, it’s not.”
CHAPTER
THIRTY-EIGHT
Why did DNA results take so long? Six weeks was an obscene about of time, especially since Heidi Merlow’s killer was still out there. Harry waited for the emailed report of the findings he’d been promised after his phone call to the central crime lab.
His desk phone rang. He answered with a sense of foreboding. “Webster Police, Detective Hunter.”
The person on the other end of the line cleared their throat. “Detective Hunter, we understand you’re the lead investigator into the death of Heidi Merlow, and the assault of Sarah Donaldson.”
“Who is this?”
