“Please we have no time!” she insisted, struggling to get up. “That man on the dock is the one who kidnapped me.”
“But what does he want with you?” the man asked.
“I don’t know! He thinks I have something.”
“Maybe you should just give it to him.”
“I would, but he won’t even tell me what it is. How can I give him something when I have no idea what it is he wants?”
The man shook his head. “That is a conundrum. Well, you know what they say?”
“What?” she asked as she made it to her feet.
“You just can’t get good help these days.”
7
Tuesday morning Jeremiah was
waiting in his office when Mark arrived for his first official counseling appointment. He had spent the last couple of hours prepping himself mentally for the challenge ahead. When the detective entered his office Jeremiah was able to greet him with a smile that was relaxed and confident.
“Good morning,” he said.
Mark grunted. “Not from where I’m sitting.”
Jeremiah clasped his hands together. “You know when it comes to these sorts of things a lot is dependent on your attitude.”
“Then we’re in for a world of hurt,” Mark admitted.
“So, I noticed.”
Jeremiah leaned back in his chair. “Let’s get started.”
“Okay, what do you want me to do?”
“For now, I’d just like you to talk about whatever’s on your mind.”
“Well, baseball season is upon us.”
Jeremiah recognized a stalling tactic when he heard one. It was no matter. If Mark didn’t want to jump right in he had ways of getting him to open up.
“Yeah, what team do you cheer for?
“Dodgers.”
Jeremiah nodded. “I find it fascinating that baseball is America’s past time when it seems like football is America’s passion.”
“It’s like comparing apples and oranges. Two entirely different things and two entirely different experiences.”
“Oh?” Jeremiah asked politely.
“Sure, football is how tough and gritty the fighting gets. You ever go
to
a baseball game though?”
“I haven’t,” Jeremiah said.
“Whole different feel. It’s like going to a backyard barbeque. Everyone’s just there soaking up the sun, enjoying the company, and watching some guys play. Doesn’t matter who you are, where you come from, everyone’s welcome.”
“Is that so?” Jeremiah asked.
“Yeah.
In June
every year Paul and I would go catch a game. For a couple of hours there was no work, no bad guys to catch, just a couple of guys hanging out. I looked forward to that game every year.”
“And this year?”
Mark’s face clouded over. “Got the tickets a while back, but I don’t have anyone to go with. It’s a shame, too. We always had a good time.”
“And now you can’t because he’s dead.”
“Yeah. And part of me is pissed at him for that,” Mark said.
“He bailed on one of the most special events of the year for you. It’s understandable that you’re angry.”
“Yeah. Imagine that. I’m furious with him for getting himself killed.”
There was a moment of silence as Jeremiah allowed Mark to process what he’d just said.
“Stupid, huh?” Mark said after a minute.
“The death of someone we care about often feels like a betrayal even though our rational mind knows they didn’t want to leave.”
Mark nodded. “Yeah, but Paul really mucked it up good. He didn’t just die. I mean, a hundred times one or both of us could have gotten killed while we work
ed
cases, arresting killers. He couldn’t just take a bullet that way and make it easier on everyone. No, he got himself killed after he stuck me with a mess. He knew what I’d do to that guy in the interrogation room. He made sure I would, pushed my buttons right before
he
left. And, then, on top of all of that, I find out he was lying to me every day. I had to find out from the coroner that I didn’t know the first thing about who my partner, my best friend, really was.”
Jeremiah could see the pain and the anger burning inside Mark. They had touched on some of the core problems he needed to deal with. They had gotten there even faster than he would have imagined.
“What was he lying about?” Jeremiah asked.
Mark hunched his shoulders and locked his jaw as he averted his eyes. “He was lying about who he was. Turns out the real Paul got killed as a kid and the one I knew took that kid’s place.”
“A changeling?” Jeremiah asked, trying to mask the sudden interest he felt.
“I guess. The family won’t talk to me about it. They found bones in that mass grave up at the camp that belong to the real Paul. You’d think his family would want answers just as much as I do.”
“Maybe not. Any way you look at it, their son and brother is dead. Figuring out whether he died as a kid or a couple of months ago won’t bring either the real Paul or the imposter back and will just complicate their lives and the grieving process needlessly.”
“Sometimes you make a lot of sense,” Mark said.
Jeremiah shrugged noncommittally.
“Anyway, nobody wants to deal with it. Seems I’m the only one who cares.”
“You were his partner.”
“Yes, yes I was.”
Mark looked down at his hands and Jeremiah could sense the grief that was pouring through him.
Mark cleared his throat and when he spoke again his voice sounded ragged. “I need to know. I trusted that man with my life for years. I need to know the truth about him.”
“It’s possible he didn’t even know the full truth. It’s also possible he kept you in the dark to protect you.”
“That’s not what partners, friends, do. They tell each other their problems and then work them out together.”
And just like that the specter of his own past and the fears that he had about Cindy discovering his secrets reared its head. As calmly as he could Jeremiah pushed the thoughts to the side, reminding himself to focus on Mark.
“Okay, so what can you do about how you feel?” Jeremiah prompted.
“I can find out the truth. Maybe that will help me find some peace with his death.”
“And if you never find the truth?” Jeremiah asked.
The detective’s face contorted. “I can’t accept that. I have to find out the truth. I’m a detective. How can I expect to be a detective and do the job if I can’t even find out the truth about my partner?”
“You’re worried that the fact that you trusted him, never suspected that he wasn’t who he said he was, means you’re a bad detective?”
“Yes. I mean, no. I don’t know.”
“Is it possible for any detective to be right all the time?” Jeremiah asked.
Mark snorted. “Of course not. We’re only human and we can only draw conclusions based on the evidence we have and what our experience tells us about that evidence.”
“Okay. Did Paul ever give you any reason to suspect that he wasn’t who he said he was?”
There was a pause so long Jeremiah began to think Mark wasn’t going to answer at all. When he finally did, his voice was barely a whisper. “I’ve laid awake nights, going over everything. Every case, every conversation, anything I can remember about him trying to answer that very question.”
Jeremiah waited a few moments before pushing. “And in all of your searching have you remembered anything that should have given you pause?”
Mark shook his head. “No, not one single cursed thing.”
“Given the time spent together, the content of your conversations, would you expect that any detective could have found something suspicious?”
“No.”
“Then why do you think you should have been able to do what no other detective could have?”
Mark took a shaky breath. “Because I’m beating myself up about something I had no control over.”
Jeremiah didn’t offer a comment, just sat and waited.
“So, are you saying I should just let it go?” Mark asked.
“What do you think?”
“I need to know the truth.”
“I’m not suggesting you stop looking for it.”
“Then I guess the point is, I have to let my guilt over not figuring out there was something wrong about him go.”
“If you did, it would probably be a tremendous relief to you.”
“Yeah, and to Traci,” Mark said. “She’s told me a hundred times that it wasn’t my fault, that I couldn’t have known. Why didn’t I believe her?”
“Because you weren’t ready to hear the truth. And because you know she loves you and wouldn’t want you to suffer.”
“Whereas I know you have no problem seeing me suffer,” Mark said.
“It’s not that I want to see you suffer. I want you to heal. You can’t heal unless you can first accept the truth about everything that happened...both good and bad.”
Mark buried his face in his hands and shuddered. Jeremiah sat quietly. If Mark needed the space to scream or cry or laugh he’d give it to him. There were only so many human responses to grief or guilt or anger. He’d seen men go through all of them, sometimes in the span of a minute. Everyone coped in their own way but even then there were only so many ways of coping, or not coping, known to man. The important thing was to let Mark feel and express whatever emotions he needed to. The people that were ticking time bombs were the ones who didn’t know how to express or had no safe forum to do so.
Ten minutes passed with Jeremiah hyper aware of each one. The counseling process was such a delicate one. With most, perhaps all, of the members of the synagogue he would have walked over and put a hand on their shoulder. Human touch was a powerful thing that could reach people when nothing else could.
Mark was a fighter though, a warrior despite the fact that he’d never been part of any army. He would need the human contact eventually, but he had to be ready to receive it. Trying to push him before he was ready to be that vulnerable would destroy everything they needed to achieve.
Finally Mark looked up. His eyes were moist but his cheeks were dry. “Thank you,” he whispered.
“I only held the mirror, you were the one who saw the truth,” Jeremiah said.
Mark stood abruptly. “I think I’m going to go for a walk. I need to think for a while.”
Jeremiah nodded. “I think that sounds like an excellent idea.”
Mark nodded and left, closing the door behind him. Jeremiah slumped a bit in his seat. It was true, he’d just been holding up a mirror to allow Mark to behold the truth but the effort he’d had to expend to make sure that Mark didn’t catch a glimpse of the real him had been overwhelming.