Abalone embedded in stained glass with shells...

Oregon Walkabout...

Random Chapter, "The Curve"

Jordan watched her as she snapped the folder shut on the counter and then moved over it, resting her forearms on it.  She looked out the shop window, her face becoming sad, and then when it appeared she would weep, her chin jutted out and she slowly nodded at him.

“You don’t seem … happy about this … discovery.  What did I miss?  Did I miss something?” Jordan asked.

She pointed her finger at him and then onto the folder.  She looked around the shop and her eyes finally leveled on him.

“You’ve done a great job, a good deed, but … I knew this already.  Tracy knew this already!  You’re a good detective …”

“I’m just a cop,” he interrupted.

“Well, Just-a-cop, you’ve told me a great story.  There are, however, missing chapters.  So please listen carefully, because, as he told me, ‘I’ll only tell you once… about ‘it’—that night.  There’s nothing mentioned here about her seizures.”

Jordan just shook his head.

“Yeah, well, you wouldn’t have known.  No one would have.  Well, she had ‘em—not often.  They scared hell out of them both, but especially her and not for the reasons you might think. Her mother had them, bad ones, so bad the authorities threatened to take her away from her mother because of them.  Her father just up and left years earlier, so she was the one who would deal with it when her mother went into grand mal.  The idea that she could be taken away from her mother because of them never left her.  It didn’t make any difference that the odds of her children being taken away were slim to none. She had a fear that had roots louder than reality.  All the words, discussions, and readings didn’t budge her.  She made him promise never to tell anyone, even the children—because they might talk.  She made him swear on his life, her life, Detective.”

Jordan didn’t interrupt her. 

“ The night of the ‘disappearance’ she had a bad one in the kitchen.  Tracy said on previous occasions he forced a wooden hanger or spoon in her mouth to keep her from swallowing her tongue—just as she had done with her mother.  Only this time two of his fingers got in the way.  She nearly bit through to the bone on one, and did bite all the way through on the other.  By the time she started to come out of it, the kids were at the door to the kitchen.  Saw blood all over the place, Dad on top of Mom, Mom still moaning, trying to scream.  They must have gone nuts.  It looked like Daddy had hit Mommy.  The towel around his hand covered his wound.  The blood all over Mommy was his, but it certainly didn’t appear that way.”

Jordan began get one of his feelings—like pieces falling into place—but he needed more.  He nodded, she continued.

“When he finally settled the children down and got her to the couch, he realized he needed to go get bandages for his hand.  Some kind of antiseptic as well.  He waited as long as he dared, then left for the store, the only 24-hour store—15 minutes away.  He laughs now, but he took her car because he didn’t want to bleed in his precious Camaro.  When he got back, she was gone and so was his car.  She still had to be out of her head—he said she was always a bit “lost” for a few hours after.  He bandaged himself as best he could.  Took the kids to the next-door neighbors and asked if they could watch them—there was an emergency.  Of course, they questioned the kids, who related a horror story.  He drove for hours—didn’t find her.  When he got back, the police were in his house taking pictures of the kitchen and the blood.”

Jordan realized his hand was over his mouth.  He began to lower it when it hit him. “Oh no … no … no!  He couldn’t tell them because he had promised …”

“That, and he thought he didn’t need to.  He was sure she would come home at some point. When they accused him of harming her, he laughed. They thought he was diabolical.  He told them they had argued and she bit him, left in the car.  It was all he could think of last minute.  He never was and still isn’t a good liar.  By the time he realized she wasn’t going to come back …”

“It was too late to tell the truth,” Jordan said under his breath. “They locked him into a lie.They had the same blood type and DNA, wasn't yet”

“Would have sounded like a made-up … story,” she finished. “ He finally did tell someone, his lawyer, who told him, ‘Even if I did believe you, the police will never buy it.  You just go mum from now on.  Refuse to talk.’”

They were shaking their heads together, imagining.

“There was a particularly evil detective …”

Jordan mumbled, “Taylor.”

“Yeah, that’s him, I think.  He’d show up at work, in the middle of the night. He’d handcuff him and parade him out of office or the house so everyone could see.  Questioned the neighbors, telling them Tracy was a suspect in his wife’s disappearance.  Even his closest friends began to distance themselves.  You know the rest, the children, and the job … his drinking.”

Jordan blew out a long, slow breath and then sucked his teeth.

“What?” she asked.

“The children …  I’m meeting with them both next week. I wouldn’t have had the whole truth of that night had I not found you. I wonder, as I have all along, if this should just be left alone.”  He looked at her for an answer.

“It’s not a 600-pound gorilla in the room anymore, but his sun doesn’t shine as bright as it does for others, never will. He had plans, dreams. He wanted to travel, eventually teach. This word ‘closure’ gets bandied about quite a bit—it’s a wooden door that got very wet, and won’t and never will close correctly, as dry as it might seem. The children, that’s your call.”

“Wouldn’t he want to see them, know about them?” Jordan voice sounded more like a plea.

“The man I’m in love with is the kind of man who wouldn’t want to see the guilt, lay the guilt on them for believing he could do such a thing. For true, Just-a-cop.  That’s the kind of man …”

Her voice trailed off. 

Jordan thought for a few moments; they both did.

“They have to know.  They have to understand what he went through,” Jordan replied. 

She just nodded, the beginnings of smile working its way across her face.  “Would you like a cup of coffee, Just-a-cop?”

“Knock it off!” Jordan said in his best Dirty Harry voice.  They both were laughing now.  His laugh settled into a comfortable smile. Maybe things wouldn’t be all healed, but there was light in an area that didn’t have any before.  Some hope.

Home, finally looks like... home

Rain comin...

The Pond of Lost Titilests...