Something Happened

by Brandy Isaacs

  “She’s actually talked a little,” Rion felt the need to explain.

  “Really?”

  “Yes. Small things. But, responses to questions I’ve asked.”

  “That’s wonderful!”

  Some of the tension in Rion’s shoulders melted. She waited while Chambers looked around the apartment. When she returned to the living room she smiled at Rion. “This is lovely.”

  “Thank you,” she let out the breath she hadn’t realized she had been holding.

  Chambers sat next to her on the futon. “It is a little small.”

  Rion cringed. “Yes. I plan to start looking for a bigger place once things settle a bit.”

  “That’s a great idea. I’m sure Beckett would appreciate having a room that’s her own.”

  “I’ve, more or less, given her the bedroom. I’m sleeping here.”

  “Oh, it’s fine, for now. I would have done the same,” Chambers smiled at her again. Beckett had come closer. Are you settling in OK?” she asked her. Beckett nodded after a long pause that caused Rion’s breath to catch again. “You have a cat?” Chambers turned to Rion.

  “Yes, Link.”

  “How is he adjusting?”

  “A little confused,” she stretched the truth a little. “But not too upset.”

  “And Beckett? Does she like the cat?”

  Does she? Rion shrugged. “I think so. She apparently never had a pet before.”

  Chamber frowned a little. “That’s sad.”

  “I know.”

  “Well, just keep an eye on them.”

  Rion felt sweat forming on her back. “Of course.”

  “What about school?”

  “What about it?”

  “Have you registered her yet?”

  “Yes,” Rion was relieved to be able to tell the woman she had accomplished something responsibly.

  “When does she start?”

  “Monday. If she’s feeling up to it.”

  Chambers considered for a moment. “It’s probably best to get back into a routine. Just watch for signs of extra stress.”

  “Of course.”

  “So, Beckett,” Chambers smiled at the kid. “You and I are going to be spending some time today.”

  Beckett glanced at Rion and she took a deep breath. Chambers wasn’t going to like this. “Actually…” Chambers raised a brow. “Beckett wants to come back to her house with me. Both of the woman’s brows shot up.

  “I don’t think—”

  “I know!” Rion raised both of her hands. “It sounds like a terrible idea. But, it was the first thing that Beckett wanted bad enough to ask for.” Chambers still looked skeptical but let her continue. “I think there might be some good to it. It might give her a little closure. Plus, it will give her a chance to make sure I get the things she wants. And, I’ve already told her, if the house hasn’t been cleaned she can’t come inside. She agreed.” Rion finally stopped for a breath and waited for Chambers to consider.

  “Rion, I just think it could turn out to be a terrible idea. Think of the trauma it could cause.”

  She glanced at her sister and the girl’s look was strong and unsettingly sure of herself. “I understand what you are saying. And, I am fully prepared to refuse to allow her to come inside. I just think—believe—in giving children some benefit of doubt. They can be remarkably resilient….” Rion knew she needed to stick to her guns. If she was going to parent this child, if Chambers was going to give her the chance to parent Beckett, she needed to be confident in her choices.

  “OK,” Chambers finally relented. “I have a lot of stuff I need to do at the office anyway. But, I want you to make an appointment with one of the therapists today. And I want an update when you return. No matter if it goes well, or badly.”

  “Done. Agreed.” Rion breathed a sigh of relief. She couldn’t show how surprised she was to have Chambers’ approval. She was the one parenting Beckett. She needed to do this without the need for approval.

  “Beckett?” Chambers turned to the kid. “Are you sure about this?” She nodded. “You have to listen to Rion though. If she says not to go inside, you shouldn’t.” Beckett nodded again. Chambers sighed. “OK, then.” She stood and dusted her skirt off. “I’ll be on my way. I’ll be expecting your call. The appointment, and the update.”

  “Absolutely,” Rion nodded.

  After she locked the door behind Chambers, Rion turned to Beckett. She had moved into the living room and was sitting on the futon. Damn, she moves quietly. “Well that seemed to go well.” Beckett just stared at her. “Watch some TV or something. I’m going to call and make you that therapist appointment.” Beckett narrowed her eyes. “What?” Rion asked her. The kid didn’t respond. “That’s nonnegotiable,” she narrowed her eyes back at Beckett. After a moment the kid relented and picked up the remote. “And be thinking about what you want from your house.”

  By the time they were ready to leave, Beckett had an appointment with a therapist named Jennifer. She had been lucky enough to get an evening appointment. But the office was still far enough away that she would have to rush to get Beckett there once she was off work. She planned for the kid to be back in school by then, and she was suddenly even more grateful to work from home. If she’d had to pay for a babysitter there would be no way she would be able to even consider moving to a bigger apartment. Feeling like an adult, for maybe the first time, Rion gathered several reusable bags, a suitcase, and her grocery cart and headed for the door with Beckett following silently.

  The train to the suburbs was sparsely populated since it was the middle of the day. Beckett was content to silently watch commuters get on and off while Rion stared out the window. She glanced up at the sound of a child whining. A woman pulled her son onto the train by his arm and shoved him roughly into one of the seats. Beckett didn’t seem to notice, but Rion did. She tried to give the kid a reassuring smile when he glanced her way, but if he got her message she couldn’t tell. Children on trains could be a nightmare. She had witnessed enough meltdowns to be grateful for Beckett's calm nature. She hated the trains, and not just because of unruly kids. Her mother had once left her on the train for several hours. It was the event that lead to her first stay in foster care.

  She had woken up that morning, six years old, and already knew it was going to be a bad day. Annie, her mother, had apparently been awake all night partying. Rion had shut her door and tucked a towel in the crack to hide the light and the strange smells that drifted under. She had already learned not to go outside her room. No matter how bad she needed to pee. Not for the first time, she hadn’t been able to hold it and had peed inside a toy plastic oven.

  By morning, she woke up under her bed. The door was locked, but already knew that wouldn’t stop someone who wanted in bad enough. So, she took the extra precaution of sleeping under the bed. She could hear her mom banging around the apartment, mumbling to herself followed by retching and gagging. When she heard her mom put on shoes and clomp around looking for her purse, Rion ran outside her bedroom. She didn’t want to be left alone again, especially when she didn’t know who was still in the apartment.

  When Annie saw her daughter in the living room she sighed, rolled her eyes and snapped. “Come on!” She yanked her daughter out of the apartment, still wearing her pjs and no shoes. Luckily, it wasn’t cold, but Rion felt the eyes on her and her mother from judging strangers. It was mostly women that noticed them, Annie first, then Rion with no shoes and dirty hair. Even as a child, Rion remembered what it looked like when their eyes shut down and they pretended not to see what was happening.

  “Where are we going?” she had asked.

  “To get something to sleep.”

  Rion stared at her mom. Her light brown hair was tangled and dirty and she had sores on her face. She kept picking at them. Rion wondered if everyone else could smell how bad her mom smelled. She tucked herself low in the seat hoping to hide from the eyes of everyone glaring at them. When the train finally rolled into
the California Avenue stop Annie she stood, looked at Rion before grunting and rolling her eyes. “Wait here.” Panicked, Rion started to stand. “I mean it. Don’t get up from that seat! I’ll be back by the time the train comes back through.” Several other riders glared in shock and outrage at Annie as she hurried from the train—but they didn’t do anything to stop her.

  But she didn’t come back by the time the train returned to the station. Or the next time. Or the time after that. A homeless man who had been on the train the whole time kept moving closer and closer to Rion with each stop. Her heart slammed in her chest and she tried to not look at the dirty man, hoping if she ignored him she he would go away. Out of sight out of mind. But it didn’t work for long. She knew he was sitting behind her when she smelled him. It was a rank musk of body order, bad breath, and alcohol.

  “Has she done this before, sweetheart?” His voice was rough and tired. She stared at him for a long moment before she began to feel rude not responding. She nodded. The old man sighed. This close she could see the deep lines in his dark chocolate skin. His white hair was short and stained yello. “Is there anyone that can come get you?” She shook her head and stuck a finger in her mouth. A habit that still hung around sometimes. Especially when her mom wasn’t around to slap her hand out of her mouth. “I’m going to get off at the next stop. A block from there is a police station. You should follow me. They’ll help you. I’m not going to touch you. And I’m not going to let anyone else touch you either.” She stared at him with wide eyes. “Don’t be scared. They’ll help you,” he repeated.

  Even at seven years old, Rion knew she needed someone to help her. Even if she could remember how to get home, she didn’t have a key. And there was no telling how long it would take Annie to come back. If she ever did. Rion glanced around, there were several other people on the train and they all pretended to not see her. But how long would that last? Finally, she nodded at the old man and he stood. She followed him from the train, to the police station. He waited until she was inside before he nodded at her and kept walking. She didn’t even have to wait five minutes before the man working behind the desk noticed her.

  She didn’t regret following the old man. If she had stayed on the train there was no telling what could have happened to her. But, going into that police station had only led to more bad things. A year later, her mother finally had her shit together enough to regain custody, and Rion was relieved to go home. Living with Annie was bad, but she learned in foster care it could be worse. Annie had been good for a while. She’d had a job and everything. But that didn’t last long. And it was only two years before Rion’s second stint in foster care.

  A tug at Rion’s sleeve brought her back to the present. She looked down at Beckett. The kid’s huge brown eyes stared at her as if she knew what Rion had been thinking about and she interrupted on purpose. “Thanks kid,” she muttered, even though she knew that was ridiculous. When the automated male voice announced the next stop, she realized why Beckett must have gotten her attention. It was time to get off the train. How did she know the stop? Rion figured she must have said it out loud at some point, and shrugged it off-grateful for the escape from memory lane.

  As she stepped onto the sidewalk, she helped Beckett hop down off the tall step. The relaxed air of the suburbs washed over her and she took a deep breath. Despite knowing their purpose for coming here, it was still nice to get out of the city for a little while. It was easier to think without the constant honking and yelling and screeching of train brakes. It smelled better too.

  She checked the paper that Chamber’s had given her. On it was an address, a code to open the lock box to get into the house, and the name and number of the lead detective in case she had any questions or problems. “Do you know how to get home from here, Beck?” The kid looked around before shaking her head. “No problem. That’s what GPS is for.” She plugged the address in and was relieved it was only a few blocks away. “Let’s go.”

  Walking along the quiet suburban streets left Rion feeling vulnerable and conspicuous. She kept glancing at the houses expecting to see people watching from behind their curtains. The feeling only got worse the closer they got to Beckett’s house. Logic told her it was just because she was about to walk into a house where murders were recently committed, but it felt like more than that. She looked down at Beckett who was still holding her hand. The kid glanced up at her and Rion tried to smile at her. “You OK?” Beckett nodded and Rion gave her hand a small squeeze. Rion peeled her sandpaper tongue away from the roof of her mouth. She was both nervous and excited to be entering the house of her father. Even if it was the sight of his murder.

  “Remember our agreement?” The kid studied her for a moment. “You said you would stay outside if I told you to.” Finally, Beckett nodded. But, Rion had her doubts. She felt like the kid was just giving her the answer she wanted, then felt guilty for thinking the kid could be so manipulative. She took a deep breath and began thinking of what she would do if Beckett didn’t listen to her. The kid didn’t really seem to care about anything except the news. Maybe she would pick out a toy that she could take away as punishment. Rion shuddered feeling guilty for planning out a punishment for an act that hadn’t even happened yet.

  Beckett began to walk faster the closer they got to the house. Rion held her back. What if she is in some kind of denial and thinks her parents are still there? She stopped Beckett and lowered herself until she was eye level with the kid. “Are you still OK?” Beckett nodded. “You know your parents aren’t still there…right?”

  Beckett stared at her through narrowed eyes for a moment. Finally, she spoke. “I know.”

  Rion sighed. “OK. I’m just making sure.” She examined the house. It seemed to pull the shadows inward, as if it were trying to hide. The knowledge of what had happened here just four days ago stained its place in the world. Dread weighed Rion down. She wanted to say fuck it all, and just buy the kid new things. But, she knew that wasn’t the best option. She couldn’t afford it and Beckett would feel better having her own stuff. Plus, a part of her wanted to see her father’s house even though another part of her didn’t want to know what was inside—and it had nothing to do with the crime that had occurred there.

  The Webster house was, overall, normal. The shadows added a strange creepiness to it, but, otherwise, it wasn’t all that different from the neighboring house. Rion tried to tell herself to stop being melodramatic. The house was one-story, red brick with black shutters. It didn’t have the landscaping that others seemed to have, but nothing stood out as abnormal. Just the clouds that seems to hover over it. Footsteps thudded on the stairs as she and Beck climbed onto the porch. She parked the grocery cart to the side and pulled the bags out.

  “OK, you stay here,” Rion turned to Beckett. The kid narrowed her eyes and Rion’s stomach tightened. “You promised.” Finally, after a few moments of continued silent standoff, Beckett turned and plopped onto the top stair. Rion almost smiled at the kid’s pointing. Finally something normal. Rion’s shoulders relaxed and she turned to the door. She knew her father and stepmother’s bodies wouldn’t be inside, but she also knew it was unlikely anyone had cleaned up the mess. She entered the code into the lockbox and retrieved the key. Taking a deep breath, she unlocked the door and opened it a couple of inches.

  After a moment, her fears were confirmed. The smelled that wafted out of the dark house was indescribable. It was a mixture of sour decay, and rotting meat. She choked back the revulsion and snapped the door closed. She covered her mouth and nose and breathed fresh air through her mouth. A prickling sensation told her Beckett was watching her, so she refused to turn and let the little girl see her reaction. Facing the door, she gave the news to Beckett. “You’re going to have to stay out here,” her voice was firm and authoritative—surprising herself.

  Taking another deep breath, she opened the door again and ducked inside before she lost her nerve. When she shut the door behind her, darkness swallowed the whole
room. Rion could only make out the shapes of furniture. Further inside, what must be the dining room, light spilled in through windows bright enough to illuminate a table and chairs. Her stomach lurched and she gagged, instantly regretting the cereal she had eaten earlier. “Ooh, god,” she breathed through her mouth. She wanted to get this over with as quickly as possible.

  She realized she hadn’t asked Beckett which room was hers, but she assumed she would be able to figure it out. Even though she would have to search until she found it, she realized she wasn’t put off by that prospect. She didn’t want to see the carnage left behind, but she did want to look around. She did want to see her father’s house. Did he have books laying around? Maybe he was the type of person to leave his socks laying on top of his shoes inside the door. Maybe he had golf trophies lined up on shelves? She fumbled along the wall until she found a switch that turned on the living room lights.

  It was disappointingly normal and boring. Brown leather sofa, white wood and glass coffee table, brown and white throw rug, a medium sized, flat screen TV. The pictures on the walls weren’t family photos, Rion realized with disappointment. Instead, they were generic landscape prints. She took several steps towards the dining room and her breath caught in her throat again. At first, she thought it was a shadow, but then her brain processed what she was seeing. A large, black pool—like a Rorschach blot—spread across the floor and underneath the table. The sour smell grew stronger as Rion stepped closer.

  “Jesus,” she whispered through the hand she used to cover her nose. This was where her stepmother, Lavinia, had died. Seeing the dried pool of blood made it much more real. This stain marked the horror that was the end of this woman’s life. The four streaks reaching out away from the main puddle made it worse. Four long smears where Lavinia had tried to crawl away from her attacker. Black powder dusted the chairs and table and at first Rion thought they were burn marks. But, then she realized it was fingerprint powder. The evidence of the police having been there stilled some of the uneasiness that itched at Rion’s skin. It took some of the vile nature of the murder scene away. It was the presence of law and order conquering discord.