I'm Still Here: A Novel

by Jon Mills

  “I don’t want to waste my breath,” Kara replied.

  She knew that would get a reaction out of her. Sure enough, Mary lunged at her with a hook. Kara counter-attacked, slipped sideways off her stool, grabbed her arm and used her forward motion to slam her head against the bar. It struck with such force all the bottles and glasses shook. In an instant Kara had her arm wrapped around and forced up behind her back. Her blond pal looked like she was about to join in but Bobby hopped off the stool and intervened, and Kara shook her head. “I would think carefully about that if I was you.” She kept her left hand pressed against Mary’s head and the right applying pressure to her arm. Mary cried out in agony.

  “Shelly, did you call the police?” Bobby asked.

  “They’re on the way.”

  “Get off me, you psycho bitch!” Mary yelled, struggling to get out from her grasp. Kara leaned in, her lips twisting up.

  “Psycho? Now that’s a first.”

  A siren could be heard in the distance. The male friend had placed the pitchers down and seemed to be the only one with a lick of sense. He was trying to keep the blonde back. Meanwhile Mary continued to insult Kara with every curse word in the dictionary. Within minutes, beyond the opaque panes of glass, blue and red strobe lights lit up the night. Things were about to get interesting.

  Chapter 7

  It could have gone any number of ways. It all depended on the totality of the circumstances. Having been a trooper for many years before joining the BCI division, Kara knew full well that officers had the discretion to handle bar brawls any number of ways. If there was no damage, and no one wanted to press charges, they could handle it informally and send them on their way with a stiff warning. But that relied on a number of factors — who was involved, how the officers’ night, week or month was going, and how belligerent those involved were. If that failed, they could file a report and refer the case to the prosecutor and charges would be filed later without a citation, or they could issue citations and force both parties to show up for court at a later date. Alternatively, they could just outright arrest them. In light of how it went down there was a good chance that Mary could still get arrested and hit with an assault 4 charge because she had intentionally taken a swing and tried to harm Kara.

  She glanced toward the door as the officers entered looking ready for a brawl themselves. By the expression on their faces as they locked eyes with Mary, Kara figured they’d handle it informally — at least, she hoped so. The last thing Kara needed was for her father to deal with the repercussions of her actions long after she’d left town. Small-town folks with a chip on their shoulder were notorious for handling matters and dishing out their own form of payback, even if the one to get it wasn’t directly at fault. It was all about sending a message.

  A brawny cop in a dark uniform, six foot four, 245 pounds, bald head, with tanned skin, made the first comment. “Mary Harris, why am I not surprised to see you in the thick of things?” He shook his head. “I thought we had an agreement?”

  “I’m not at fault, it’s this psycho bitch.”

  “Always someone else,” he said.

  His partner eyed Kara, and stepped in to take over. She released Mary and took a few steps back. They separated and the second officer took Mary to the back of the room so he could speak with her. Kara eyed the name on his shirt. Officer Johnson. He pulled out his notepad to take her side of the story. Before he opened his mouth, the barmaid interjected.

  “I saw everything, officer. She’s not at fault. Mary was mouthing off, took a swing at her, she dodged and held her against the bar to protect herself.”

  He eyed Kara, and his eyes bounced to Bobby as if looking for confirmation.

  “Exactly what she said,” he added. “I tried to tell her but she wouldn’t listen.”

  “She never does.”

  Everyone looked towards Mary who was now acting all sweet like she had done nothing wrong. It was always the same with these idiots unless they were full of liquid courage. Kara wasn’t sure what was more disconcerting — that she tried to start a fight with a complete stranger over something that occurred years ago, or that she did it without being intoxicated.

  “Any damage?” the cop asked.

  Shelly shook her head.

  “Alright, well, I’ll take that into consideration. You want to give me a name?’ He asked.

  “Kara Walker.”

  He looked at her again, his brow pinching. “Any relation to Anna Walker?”

  She nodded. “That’s my mother.”

  He took a deep breath, screwed up his face and eyed Mary again before closing his notepad and tucking it back in his breast pocket.

  “My condolences. She was a good woman.”

  “That’s what everyone tells me.” Kara offered back a strained smiled.

  He narrowed his eyes. “You hurt?”

  “No.”

  “Do you wish to press charges?”

  She shook her head. “No, it’s okay. I know how these things go.”

  His head cocked to one side. She pulled out her badge from New York.

  He tipped his head back. “So you came home for the funeral? How did it go?”

  “As good as it could be, I guess.”

  “Look, hold tight for a minute, I just need to chat with Mary and I think we should be able to get this squared away.”

  Kara nodded and took a seat at the bar.

  “I tell you she is one crazy bitch,” Bobby said. “Her and her family.”

  “Does Kyle have more siblings?”

  “One brother. Strangely, he’s nothing like her but I wouldn’t want to cross him. Your mother had a few run-ins with Mary after the trial. Their property was damaged.”

  “I remember her saying something about that. You think it was her?”

  “Oh without a doubt. The cops weren’t able to pin it on her but most in town had a feeling she was behind it. Your mother told me about this one time that Mary approached her at a grocery store and got into a spat with her. Cops had to be called. They know her. Everyone does. If she’s not causing trouble in a bar she’s up to no good in her business.”

  “What’s she do?”

  “She works in the office at some collision and towing service.” He picked a few nuts out of a bowl and tossed them into his mouth while glancing over at her. Both cops were speaking with Mary — no doubt, making it clear that she was starting to test their patience and if she didn’t get her act together, she’d find herself locked up. When they had wrapped up, one of them escorted Mary and her pals to the door. As they walked past, Mary scowled at Kara.

  Officer Johnson came over and adjusted his duty belt, laying the palm of his hand against his service weapon. “Probably best you head home otherwise she’ll think we are treating her unfairly.”

  “You want us to leave?” Bobby asked. “But she was the one who started it.”

  “I’m not saying you have to go immediately, I’m just suggesting it would make our lives easier. I don’t really want to swing back here in half an hour.”

  “That’s fine, I’ve got a lot to do tomorrow,” Kara said, downing the rest of her drink. Bobby grumbled under his breath and drained his beer as Kara thanked Shelly and left a generous tip.

  Chapter 8

  In the car on the way home, the memories of the night Charlie was abducted came back to Kara in fragments, just as they had many times before over the years. Now, though, instead of chewing over that day’s events, from them pleading with their parents to let them go trick or treating without them, through to what followed, her thoughts circled between her mother and Kyle Harris. When she was twenty, six years after that night, she was living in New York, studying at SUNY when she got the call. She remembered her father being adamant that she come home for the trial, which took place a year later. He wanted her there for support and to show a united front. The problem was stepping away from her studies wasn’t easy. Of course her explanation didn’t hold weight with her parents. A
lthough she couldn’t stay for the entire trial, she had caught snippets of it on the news. So much of what they had on Kyle Harris was said to be circumstantial, according to his defense. In the end, having a poor defense, a sexual accusation in his past, and newly submitted evidence found on his farm had worked against him. She hadn’t paid much attention to the details as her mind was consumed with the heavy workload they’d piled on her at the university. But now, she was intrigued, especially in light of what she’d discovered in her parents’ basement.

  Ten minutes after leaving the bar, Kara pulled into the driveway. As her headlights washed over the front of the home, she saw her father carrying two large black trash bags out to the garbage cans beside the house. He slammed them inside with such force that one toppled over. Before she even stepped out of the car he kicked the can then stormed back into the house.

  “Dad?” She hurried after him. Stepping inside the home, she could hear him talking loudly. She caught something about it all had to go. Everything. Kara double-timed it up the steps and found him in Charlie’s room filling up another black bag. “What are you doing?” she asked.

  “What should have been done years ago.” He slid his hand across a shelf and a large collection of tapes dropped into the bag.

  She placed her hands on her hips and glanced around.

  “You’re throwing it all out?”

  “I want it gone. He’s not coming back. I tried to tell your mother but she wouldn’t listen. I wanted to move to a new home but she wouldn’t do it just in case he returned.” He moved at a rapid pace, not stopping even for a second to consider if an item was of sentimental value. He was treating it like trash — nothing more than a collection of painful memories. A few baseball cards scattered on the floor and in a fit of rage he threw the side table lamp at the wall. It shattered, and Kara took a step back before moving in and wrapping her arms around him.

  “Enough. I’ll do this.”

  He stank of booze. He wasn’t thinking straight.

  “I’ll do it!” he bellowed.

  He shrugged and brushed past her, storming out the door. She stood in the wake of the torrent. Posters had been torn off the walls. The bedding was gone. Charlie’s clothes were piled up ready to be taken out. Many of the trinkets lay scattered on the floor, and the… she sighed, bending to pick up the now cracked photo frame of her and Charlie. She picked away the glass and pulled out the photo, placing it in her pocket as her father returned to complete his rampage. He moved through the room like a whirlwind.

  “Dad. Please. Stop. You’re not thinking clearly.”

  “I’ve never been clearer. I’ve spent twenty-five years walking past this room, unable to go inside and clear it out. I won’t do it. He’s gone. She’s gone. I don’t want to be reminded.”

  Kara reached for his arm and he stopped, like an exhausted runner. He was breathing heavily and his hands were shaking.

  “I’m just so tired, Kara.”

  She pulled him in and he rested his head on her shoulder. Tears began to flow.

  “I miss them so much.”

  “I know you do. So do I.” Kara looked around the room, and gripped him tightly. “I’ll do this. Come on, you should lie down. Get some rest.”

  “I want it done tonight.”

  “It will be,” she replied.

  “All of it. I want it gone.”

  She nodded leading him out of the room and into his. There had only been one event in her life that reminded her of the way he must have felt. That was when she lost her Labrador. She’d removed the dog’s bed, the blanket, the food bowls, and leash. Seeing them there only caused her pain. But Charlie was different. In the years after he was gone, she had in some ways become like her mother and thought he would return. Whether it was just a fantasy or not, they’d both thought he would one day walk through that door. She’d held fast to that idea until she left home at twenty. Not seeing his room every day made it easier for her but for her father, and mother, it must have been like reliving the nightmare.

  Kara pulled back the covers on her father’s bed and he took a seat and rolled in. She pulled off his shoes and covered him. “Kara, you think you can get me some water?”

  “Sure.”

  By the heaviness of his eyes and the smell of the booze coming from him, she figured he’d be out like a light within minutes. Sure enough, she went down to get him a glass of water and upon returning he was snoring. He looked so content in the bed. She set the glass down on the table by his lamp and stared at him for a second before glancing across to where her mother slept. She walked over to the open closet and took a handful of material from one of her dresses and brought it to her nose. A flash of memories of being a child, hearing her mother laugh, feeling her scoop her up and give her a hug made her heart ache. She eyed her mother’s watch still laying on her side table, and earrings she’d taken off. She felt tightness in her throat. Kara exited the room before crying.

  Over the course of the next forty minutes she went through Charlie’s room organizing his belongings into different bags. Most of the toys and clothes could go to Goodwill or the Salvation Army. She kept a few items, mostly sentimental things like award certificates he’d received from school, a baseball cap from their time at a summer camp, and the rest went into boxes and bags for the trash. There was no point storing them in the garage, her father would find them and toss them out. It was time.

  An hour later, Kara poured herself a glass of red wine. She was tired and wanted to sleep but her mind was still busy with what Mary Harris had said. Bobby was right. Her mother truly believed Mary’s brother was innocent despite the damning evidence the prosecution had presented to the jury. It was so long ago. So much about the way investigations were conducted had changed and been improved. New forms of forensic science had allowed for hundreds of cold cases to be resolved many years after the fact. Touch DNA didn’t exist back in 1996, instead they relied on a large blood, saliva or semen sample. Now all they needed was a few cells. Then of course there was what Bobby had mentioned about her mother hassling the police. What had given her reason to believe that Harris wasn’t guilty? What did you find, Mom? Kara asked as she made her way down into the basement.

  She stood in front of the boards, sipping her wine as she tried to sift through the complex mosaic of statements, police reports, phone records, photos, and maps that were used to chart evidence. Where to begin?

  Kara set her glass on the table and reached for anything she could find on Kyle Harris. It took her a good ten minutes of opening and closing folders, pulling down newspaper clippings and doing a search on her mother’s computer before she was able to make sense of what was before her and organize it in a clear way based on a timeline of events her mother had scrawled on a long piece of paper.

  Thursday October 31, 1991: Charlie Abducted

  Friday November 1, 1991: Large Scale Search

  Saturday November 2, 1991: Special Agent Henry Ellis Joins the Case

  Sunday November 3, 1991: Prayer Vigil, Sheriff Robert Smith Weighs In

  Monday November 4, 1991: National Broadcast to Generate Tips

  Tuesday November 5, 1991: National Guard, State Patrol, Canines and Helicopters Search Hundreds of Square Miles Area

  Wednesday November 6, 1991: Flyers Distributed Nationwide

  Thursday November 7, 1991: First Suspect Sketch Released After Public Report of Man Acting Suspicious in the Area at the Time

  And the list went on with days and days of new items being added until twenty days later when the investigative force started to shrink as many of the FBI and Washington State Bureau of Investigation agents were taken off the case leaving very few remaining. Kara could remember the shift that occurred. How initially they received so much attention from the media, the public and law enforcement until fewer media vans were parked outside their home, and Charlie’s became nothing more than another missing kid’s face on a flyer.

  Her mother and father both reacted differently. Her
father got angry, and would often be found on the phone shouting at the county sheriff or FBI agents. Her mind drifted back to the arguments between her father and mother. The constant tension in the home. The days and nights spent at Uncle Rob’s home. No one of her age should have gone through that. She was surprised her parents had managed to stay together through it all. Many parents of missing children separated, unable to cope with the loss and stress and upheaval.

  Did Charlie’s abductor know what he’d done? That one selfish act hadn’t just destroyed Charlie’s life; it had torn apart their family, their community and made the world seem unsafe. No, they never bothered to think about that. All they cared about was fulfilling their sick and twisted fantasy.

  Kara glanced back down and let out a heavy sigh, reaching for her glass again.

  From there on, the timeline mentioned persons of interest that were interviewed, and attacks on boys reported in Forks and Blackmore but with no arrests made. She scanned the rest of the timeline, full of dates, places, a long list of suspects’ names, those that were ruled out, others arrested then released, all the way through to when Clallam County Sheriff Robert Smith retired six years later, a year after Kyle Harris was arrested and charged with the abduction.

  Kyle Harris. She brought out a photo of him, taken at the time of his arrest on August 12, 1996, five years after the abduction. There were similarities to the suspect sketch, which according to the press was one of the reasons why the police took an interest in him. Though if she could remember correctly, there were a lot of people that matched that sketch. Harris was an athletic-looking man, thirty-four years of age. Thinning hair, six foot two. At the time of his arrest, he owned a farm near the abduction site, and ran a martial arts gym part-time in the evenings. Kara pulled up an article taken from the Peninsula Daily News on May 3, 1989, two years before the abduction.