Dead and Gone

by Tina Glasneck

  “He is my child. I want to see him.”

  Kevin paused. “All right, I’ll be there in five minutes to pick you up. Meet me out front.”

  Finally, seated in Kevin’s sedan, NPR played a concerto, and Charlie’s heart ached with fear.

  “You could have told me that you’d been fighting before I drove over here to pick you up.”

  “It’s just a minor bruise. I fell into a door.”

  “Those doors throw some serious punches.”

  The drive through Richmond flew by until they reached the West End. Turning into a gated subdivision, her stomach flip-flopped.

  “It’s the house there on the corner.”

  Before the car could come to a complete stop, she hurried up the driveway to the front door and rang the doorbell.

  “Charlie,” Kevin called after her and quickly parked the car.

  “Stay here. I’ll be right back,” she said.

  The large oak door opened to reveal a prim and proper older woman dressed in a velour track running suit holding a little boy who looked just like Shane. “Niall and Joshua, will you please stop chasing the cat! Children, you got to love them.” The woman’s smile froze. “Charlie?”

  Charlie gasped. “Mom?”

  40

  Seated in heavy wooden chairs around a mahogany table that shone as if just polished, Charlie took in the scents of what home always meant. The aroma of freshly baked macadamia and white chocolate chip cookies mingled with fresh lavender, creating a calmness that her mother always loved to exude.

  “Charlie,” Secille said. “I knew you’d come by sooner or later. But I can’t give James back to you. ” Her mother’s patient and kind voice belied the tenseness in the room.

  I didn't understand. How could my mother have my son and me not know it or remember it?

  “Why not?” Charlie asked, wringing her hands. “I just want to hold him . . . I just want to hold him.”

  “Because you sold him for a high, and your stepfather, Michael, and I did everything we could to make it that he never has to know what you did, and what you've become. Luckily, your friend Jesse seemed to care about the boy more than you ever did. Of course we had to pay for that too. He dropped him off here, after we plead with you to tell us what happened. But, you don’t you remember?”

  “No,” Charlie shook her head. “I don’t, and I think I’d remember something like that.”

  “Well, considering that you blame this family for what you've become, I doubt it. We don't talk, haven't talked and only God knows where you've been and what you've been doing."

  "You haven't been interested enough to know?"

  "I haven't been interested enough to ask. I know you love your son, just as I love you, my child. But I love you from a distance. Your life is toxic. You are toxic. And my words still stand: until you get your life together, just stay away. ”

  “The father never signed the paperwork,” Charlie retorted.

  “You know who the father is?”

  “Of course I do, and he will come and take James and give him the parents he needs and not all of this stuff that you have. He needs love.”

  “Charlie, I don’t know why you ran away so many years ago, and I don’t know why you blame me for the person you’ve become.”

  “I don’t blame you. I blame myself, but I also know that if given a chance I could be a great mother.” Charlie leaned forward in her chair.

  Our relationship had never been a good one. On one Thanksgiving, before things had gone downhill between Jesse and me, he'd met my family. Maybe getting high in the bathroom and then nodding at the table was a surefire way of not receiving another invite. But, Jesse seemed to have clicked with my mother enough to know that she'd take care of James, even when I couldn't. He may have been a prick, a connected mobster even, but who said the devil didn't have a heart?

  Secille reached out and touched Charlie’s cheek. “I can't save you. If I saved you from them, you’d only return to your demons, and I can’t save you from yourself, only you can. I love you enough to let you make all those mistakes and learn from them. But you will not so do so with James. He stays here.”

  “I left home when I was sixteen after Michael raped me, and you wouldn’t believe me. You took his word over my own. All I ever wanted was for my mother to love me, and now as a mother, all I want is a chance to love my child.”

  “Then get sober and leave that gang.”

  “They’ll never let me leave alive. I can’t do this alone, Mom.”

  “Then you shouldn’t have to.” Secille took Charlie’s hand. “I’ll be your army of one.”

  41

  Home, the Chinese food long forgotten.

  Charlie was on a terrible merry-go-round while buzzards circled her. There was something about Shane that made her want to stay forever by his side, to have peace and joy in the life that she wished they could have. But she knew it was all a dream, a naïve girl’s fantasy that they could ever be a happy family.

  Love wasn’t always enough to hold on to, to keep from diving under the vicious swells. It would have been so easy to forget the danger coming down the pike. The world they lived in was volatile, drag-down knock-out gritty where bloodshed was normal, anger fueled the furious fire, and nothing had value, least of all her. Picking up the pictures Jesse had left behind, she saw in the color shot Shane standing next to Otto at a stainless steel table, a table where Summer lay. She paused to think about her friend, a friend with moxie who deserved better.

  If she stayed, that would soon be her. Like all of the women over the years, they somehow all disappeared, and without Jesse there to protect her, she’d surely end up on his table. Shivers of angst rippled down her spine. She should have considered that before biting him, but things were always clearer in hindsight.

  If Charlie continued to fiddle with the locks on her cage, soon they’d open. It was time to be brave—for her, for her son, for her future, and for all the girls who had disappeared.

  Charlie walked into the bathroom and stared at her reflection. “I’m no one’s victim,” she muttered. Her gaze darted around the room, unable to hold the strength her reflection required. Taking a deep breath, she said, “I am no one’s victim.” Inhaling one last cleansing breath, she unabashedly stared at her bruised face and her swollen lips and pulled back her shoulders. “I am no one’s victim.”

  Hearing the loud banging on the front door, she knew her borrowed time was up.

  42

  “How’d the initial consult go?” Blackwell asked, leaning back in his chair that appeared to be made of rare animal hides. Shane stared at the man and tried to think of an answer. He was sure that it wouldn’t take Gage Thornton long to figure out who he really was. Cops were united by a bond that could defeat all other threats, especially from outside, but there were always some who liked to talk.

  “It went well, sir,” Shane stood across from Blackwell, his hands clenched behind his back, his feet shoulder-length apart.

  “You have a weird way of standing there, and I don’t really like it. Instead of having a seat though, I need you to take care of something for me,” Blackwell handed Shane a large package. “Take this to your attorney. He’ll know what to do with it.”

  “Sir, I’m to meet Jesse this . . .”

  “No need worrying about little fish when you’re swimming with big sharks,” Blackwell said. “You have to realize that your work got you to this level and you don’t answer to him anymore. You now answer directly to me. Do you understand?”

  “And what am I supposed to tell Jesse?”

  “You tell him that only dogs beg.” Blackwell rose from his seat and walked around to the other side, palming Shane’s shoulder. “You’re part of the Bruderschaft, and we don’t beg.”

  With a light tap on the door, it opened and there stood Otto with Charlie. Her tear-streaked face was bruised and her eyes were red.

  “Charlie?” Shane asked, seeing her disheveled appearance.

/>   “Sorry boss,” Otto said.

  “What happened?” Shane asked.

  “That’s irrelevant. He knew that Charlie was under your protection, which meant that she was under my protection.”

  “We don’t fight over bitches. Get Jesse over here, pronto. We need to settle this issue before it festers,” Blackwell ordered.

  “What did he do to you?” Shane asked.

  “You should ask what I did to him,” Charlie said.

  Shane pulled back and stared at her. He wanted only to wrap his arms around her and make her feel safe, tend to her wounds, internal and external, and not worry about the men in the room scrutinizing him. It was to be another test—Bruderschaft über alles—the Brotherhood over everything. If he chose her over Jesse, it could lead to problems, with him on the shitty end of the stick.

  Otto returned without Jesse. “Sorry, sir. Jesse is in the hospital. Seems like she tried to cut his pecker off.”

  “Bite, Otto. No one sticks something in my mouth unless I want it,” Charlie said.

  Shane had never heard her be so brazen, so filled with a deadly version of moxie that had the power to get not only herself killed but him also.

  Shane watched the calculated glare of Blackwell go from disdain to a nod of approval, as if she’d almost metaphorically grown a pair of gonads.

  “You definitely are a different sort of woman.”

  “I’m a survivor, sir.”

  “I guess it’s best that I remember that, Charlotte?”

  “Yes.” Her chin was up, her feet braced. Right before his eyes, Shane watched Charlie transform, squaring off with someone even more powerful than the man she’d just defended herself against.

  His dragonfly had finally gotten her wings.

  43

  October 1, 2003

  “Are you all right in there?” Shane called to Charlie in the bathroom. Reclining on the couch, with the console game control in his hand, he continued to tap on the buttons to make his avatar move on the television screen.

  “I’ll be right out,” she said.

  Hearing her heels strike against the hardwood floor, he turned and saw her round the corner dressed in one of his T-shirts. With a slow, surefooted gait, she swayed her hips and drew near to him.

  “Can I interrupt?” Charlie smiled.

  Shane tossed the console controller to the side and ran his hand up her naked leg, underneath the warm cloth, caressing her bare hip.

  Raising her leg, she placed her heeled foot on the couch and leaned forward, curling her index finger.

  Shane rose, hypnotized by her slightest motion.

  Her hands pulled his shirt up over his head, and as her nails scraped along his chest, her hands continued their journey to the waist of his pants, until she reached his leather belt.

  “You can retake your seat. I just didn’t want your clothes to chafe,” she said straddling him.

  Shane pushed the shirt slowly up reveling in the sight of her bare skin, until she sat on him wearing nothing but the red high heels.

  “Looks like you’re trying to get me excited,” he joked and leaned forward, nibbling along her neck. He felt her slight shiver.

  She brought his thumb to her mouth, and he caressed her lips until she took the pad into her mouth, tentatively touching it with her tongue.

  “I want you to know how much I love you, how much I will always love you,” she whispered. With her feet planted on both sides of him, reaching between them, she took hold of him and guided him into place. Situated, he tightened his grip around her waist, while she leaned backward, arching her back.

  Taking control, he watched her beautiful, lithe body thrust against him, and her tantalizing titillation aroused him further, pulling him ever deeper.

  Each thrust pushed him closer, intertwining his soul to hers. He needed her to never stop, to never let him go again. That thought scared him because it pitted his duty against his passion.

  Her sexual sounds were a crescendo, ever rising in volume and urgency, as her moans urged him on until she peaked and then wrapped her body around him, as if shielding him in her warmth, in her unadulterated passion, and savoring the feel of their bodies united as one.

  44

  October 2, 2003

  Everything was in place.

  Charlie had to love herself more. It was the thought that had gotten her out of bed after a night of awe-inspiring tantric sex. She tried not to second-guess herself. There were enough potential roadblocks to doom it without her misgivings.

  Shane was what she wanted, but not what she needed. She’d waited until the apartment was empty and packed her supplies.

  Driving over to Jesse’s house and seeing only Jesse’s car—a car that only he was allowed to drive—she took a cleansing breath and quickly snorted a line of cocaine, then wiped her nose.

  She wasn’t strong; she couldn’t lift him up off the floor, but she was a fighter and the drug should give her what she lacked in confidence. She’d done it enough. She’d fought the good fight, and nothing was going to make her go back to being that woman.

  Nothing was going to make her be the blackened and bruised victim again.

  Turning the key in the lock, she called out his name.

  “Came sniveling back, huh?” he said, resting on the couch with his legs spread.

  “I came to bring by a peace offering, since you aren’t feeling well.” She quickly opened the cooler and retrieved the sugary drink and took a seat next to him.

  “Only if you’re having some too,” he said, ushering her down.

  No matter what happened between them, she knew he always expected her to come back.

  Removing two plastic cups, she poured them each a cup and pretended to take a sip as he gulped it down. She quickly refilled his cup and watched him drink it too.

  Rising, she then walked around the room, picking up the trash he’d carelessly tossed, fluffing the pillows and placing his cellphone on mute and stuffing it into a cluttered drawer. Drawing up the blanket over his lap, she eased down next to him.

  “I need you to do me a favor, Jesse,” Charlie said. She leaned in close to whisper it into his ear.

  His lips spread into a broad smile. It reminded her of what they’d once shared: the friendship that had been so dear, the trust that once united them, and even more of the bond he’d since broken.

  “What do you need, doll?”

  “I need you to let me go.”

  His smile faltered as his fist rose, and he jerked back the blanket. “This is what you came over for? You’ll always belong to us. You’re nothing, and you’ll never be anything besides what you’ve always been—a crack whore.”

  He’d called her worse before. Like anything, the more often it was used the less sting it had. His trite response was what she expected.

  As if noticing his words had no effect, he continued. “But we all want something,” he lowered his hand to rest on her thigh. It tightened and inched ever higher up her leg.

  She pulled back, putting space between them and ridding herself of her once naïve sentiment, leaving behind only a lioness ready to pounce. With a maniacal whisper, she spat, “Considering what you’ve been drinking, you too are going to want something. “ She watched his gaze fall from her face to his empty cup.

  “What did you do?”

  “I poisoned you, and the longer it takes for you to answer me, the longer it will take for help to come.”

  45

  “911, what’s your emergency?” asked the Emergency Communication’s technician. The headset rested snugly on her head, while the computer monitors flashed the information regarding the calls in progress. Seated before five computer monitors, with her fingers poised above the keyboard, she waited for a response.

  Silence.

  “Do you require assistance?”

  Quickly keying in the information for a reverse lookup, she pulled up the home address associated with the telephone number. As policy dictated, she routed the infor
mation to dispatch, requesting an officer to investigate the call.

  The technician waited for a response and still heard nothing. Her fingers rapidly dispatched police and EMS.

  “Available Officer 365, we have an open 911 call that requires your assistance. Please respond to 80125 Atlee Road.”

  ***

  Under the moonless night, with the call fresh off of the radio, Patrol Officer Brennan Tal switched on his sirens and blue lights and maneuvered through the Mechanicsville traffic until he reached the address provided. He had done the academy, had completed the field training, and was now almost done with his two years of service to rise within the department.

  Hurrying up toward the house, he paused, waiting for his partner to arrive. For a building search, it required two officers. An old swing creaked as a small gust of wind pushed it against rusted hinges. It squeaked and swayed to and fro. The eeriness and the fact that it was a new uncontrolled environment made Tal take a deep breath and wait. He did not want today to be the day that his wife received word of his death or that his mother finally had to give up the idea of his becoming a psychologist and going into a real family business. When the second patrol car arrived, out jumped his partner for the day from B platoon, Officer Robert Thomas.

  Tal headed forwarded. Behind the curtains, he saw light illuminating what he assumed to be the living room. Removing his flashlight from his utility belt, he caught sight of a partial footprint in what appeared to be in blood. Following the trail to the front door, he eased forward to the partially opened door.

  Gripping his gun, Officer Tal took point while Officer Thomas, in SUL position, followed. Approaching the door, Officer Tal kicked open the cracked door. Taking his flashlight, he illuminated the area behind the door. Seeing nothing, he moved forward.

  Entering the foyer, they continued forward, making sure not to step on the bloody footprints that continued forward.