Authors: Marc Buhmann
I need a drink.
Yes. She could really use one right now.
* * *
Willem shut the front door and locked it. A sunbeam streamed through the partially closed curtains, dust particles visible in the air. A cold beer would be good right about now, but since his estrangement from Elliott he’d sworn off alcohol. Instead he grabbed a cola from the fridge, popped the top and took a long drink, one that produced a hiccup.
No more delaying it; he opened and dug through a drawer finding a black address book buried under miscellaneous junk. With book and cola in hand he sat at the table. He stared out the window wondering if he was ready for this.
His hand hesitated over the address book. Assuming Elliott still had the same number would he even talk to him? Maybe not knowing was better.
To hell with it. He grabbed the book and flipped through it until he found Elliott’s number, picked up the phone and dialed. Might as well get this over with.
The phone rang three times before a woman answered. “Hello?” Her voice was tinny and soft through the handset.
“Beth?”
There was a slight pause. “Yes?”
“It’s Willem. Is Elliott there?”
The pause went on longer. Could it be she didn’t remember him, or just surprised at his call? His tension washed away as her jubilation resonated through the phone. “Willem! It’s so good to hear your voice. How have you been? God, it’s been so long!” Hearing the happiness in her voice brought on a smile.
“Good, good. Is he around?”
“Yes. Hold on.”
He listened as she walked, her footfalls barely audible through the phone. There was a
whoosh
sound as she covered the mouthpiece, though not enough.
“. . . Willem. He’d . . . talk to you.”
The silence continued, and Willem could only guess what was happening. Elliott was probably shaking his head no to Beth, not wanting to engage in a conversation with him. And then he heard Elliott’s voice.
“Hello?” Elliott’s voice sounded tired.
“It’s Willem, Elliott. How are you?”
“Good,” he said with a slow inhale. “It’s been a long time. Ten years?”
“Something like that.” Willem grew increasingly concerned. Ten years was a long time, but not so long that his brother would sound so…
aged
. “Is everything alright? You don’t sound like yourself.”
“It’s been a long time,” Elliott said again, as if that answered the question. He coughed.
“You still working in tech?”
“Nah. Got out of that years ago.” He heard Elliott cover the mouthpiece and another cough. “It was a dead end job, no real career path. I started working as a consultant and never looked back. What about you? Still saving lives?”
“Trying. Elliott—”
“I’ve been thinking about you a lot lately,” Elliott interrupted. “You and Sam, actually.”
“Sam?” He found it interesting that they both were thinking of their brother in recent days.
“Yeah.” Willem sensed some hesitation on his brother’s part. “Whatever the reason for our fight, I think we should let bygones be bygones.”
Willem was taken aback. He expected some resistance to making amends—Elliott was always a stubborn one. Maybe ten years had mellowed him out a little. “I agree. In fact, I don’t even remember what the fight was about.”
A phlegmy laugh came through the phone. “Really? Funny how that works.”
“You said you’ve been thinking about Sam lately. So have I.”
“Well isn’t that interesting. You dying, too?”
That caught Willem off guard. “Dying?”
“Cancer. Docs say I don’t have much time left. So that’s my excuse, what’s yours?”
“In all honesty, I’m not sure. Just… memories coming back.” If Willem felt uncomfortable before now he was distressed. “How are Beth and the kids handling it?”
“Kids are adults now and are fine. They’ve all accepted the inevitable. In all honesty, I’d like this to be over with so that they could move on.” Another cough through the phone. “Did you ever marry?”
“No.”
“Well then you probably won’t understand, but the pain I see in their eyes every time I look into them, it breaks my heart. They say the eyes are the gateway to the soul, and you know what? It’s true. I never realized it, not until I saw how they look at me now.”
It pained him to admit it, but Willem was jealous of his brother and what he had, for what he was losing. He’d never known love, the longing one feels for their wife or children, the smile received when returning home from work or a trip. The unequivocal joy on a loved one’s face. That had eluded Willem into his adult life.
As if reading his mind, Elliott said, “It’s never too late, Willem. Never.” Elliott cleared his throat. “So why the call after all these years? Not that I’m complaining, mind you. I would have picked up the phone myself if I wasn’t so damn scared you’d hang up or wouldn’t answer.”
“I’ve never known you to be scared.”
“Eh.” Willem could sense the shrug through the phone. “I put on a good show.”
“How long do you have?” Silence on the other end. “Elliott?”
“A week. Two at most.” The defeat in Elliott’s voice was heartbreaking.
Willem needed to see his brother before the end, needed to talk to him, to make amends. He wanted to be there right now. It was a five hour drive, so if he could get on the road in the next hour or two he could be there before nightfall. “I’ll be there tonight.”
He’d expected an argument, but Elliott surprised him. “Okay. I’ll let Beth know. But now I’ve got to go, Willem. I’m tired.”
Willem understood. Elliott was his only remaining family and to set things right it was something he needed to do. “I’ll make the arrangements and be there tonight.”
Relief seeped through the phone. “Thank you.”
“Goodbye, Elliott,” and Willem hung up the phone.
* * *
It had been more difficult to find the cabin than he expected. It had been a long time since he’d been out this way—some fifty years—and his recollection wasn’t what it once was. The road off the highway was overgrown and blended in with the surrounding forest so well he’d missed it the first pass. Back in the day it was easy to miss unless you knew what to look for, but now it was nearly impossible. When he finally did find the road he expected he’d be able to drive the entire way in. That wasn’t meant to be. Just past the two boulders that blocked Oak—the abandoned road that went nowhere—was an age-old tree that had come down in the not too distant past. There was no way for him to maneuver the car around it, so he’d thrown it in park and got out.
Twelve feet up from the base of the tree it looked like lightning had struck snapping the thing in half. The wood was charred black. David could only assume that rain had been coming down at the time and had managed to keep the fire from spreading. Good thing, too. If it hadn’t he’d probably be standing in a cemetery of trees right now.
When the cabin came into view he scarcely believed it. It was real! The cabin Lilly had taken him to in his dream existed. It solidified the fact that his hazy memory was in fact true.
David stopped dead in his tracks when he saw movement on the side of the cabin. He pressed himself against a tree hoping to blend in. He watched as a man approached the door with trepidation and knocked. It looked like… Was that the deputy he met the other day? What was he doing here?
With no response he watched Stavic open the door and step in. Another man, this one older, stepped around the cabin and crept up to the door and peeked in.
“Out!” he heard Stavic shout as he propelled the second man from the entrance. What was going on? Stavic put a phone to his ear.
He couldn’t stay here. If he was calling for backup the last thing he wanted was to be found skulking around the cabin.
* * *
They had set up powerful lights that washed away all the shadows. Stavic and Kinney stood outside the cabin’s front door. Everything was red save for Jim Patterson, the county coroner, who was dressed in a yellow hazmat suit. The floor and walls were splattered with blood. Once Deputy Reed arrived he asked him to escort Harold back to his boat. No sense in traumatizing him further.
“This is the worst thing I’ve ever seen,” Kinney said, “and I’ve seen a lot. “How did you find this place?”
“Tour of the river like you asked.”
Stavic felt himself being drawn back to that night in Chicago when he was almost killed. At the time he was a beat cop on the north side of the city. Not nearly as bad as the south or west sides, it still had its own gang problems. In honoring the Mayor’s plan to crack down on crime, Stavic had volunteered to work undercover. It had taken sixteen months, but he’d managed to infiltrate one of the major gangs in the neighborhood, had them convinced he was a junkie living in squalor. Not that that wasn’t far from the truth; he’d started hanging out with the right people that by the end he was living in a skeleton of a burned out three-flat gray-stone. Several homeless people lived there, all of them he’d considered friends by the end.
One in particular, Jennifer, he’d become exceptionally close to.
While that hadn’t been the first time he’d done drugs it certainly was what got him addicted.
A major drop off was planned of which he alerted his superiors. He and his homeless friends—people who just wanted to make a few bucks to eat—went to the location, met with the runners. The cops were ready and a shootout ensued. One of the drug runners came to Stavic convinced he’d sold them out. Before he could react a muzzle was pressed against his temple. He felt the warmth of the fired weapon tremble against his flesh. Stavic closed his eyes, expecting death, when Jennifer lunged.
The bullet grazed his head and blew out his eardrum. Jennifer ended up taking a bullet to the gut, but it afforded Stavic enough time to wrestle the gun from the drug runner’s hands and blow him away. When it was all said and done most of the criminals had been killed, the others caught. Stavic stayed with Jennifer as she bled out, the sparkle in her eyes fading.
She was gone before the ambulance arrived.
After the experience of being undercover, partial loss of hearing, nearly a bullet to the head, and the death of Jennifer it became too much for him and he put in his two weeks. He was told that when he was ready to come back just pick up the phone—he was a good cop.
To try and clear his mind he’d decided to travel. It was the seventh week being away from home and he was headed back to Chicago when he saw a sign for River Bend. Something about the name pulled at him so he decided to check it out. As soon as he crossed Willow Creek Bridge he felt like he was home. Everything about it was comforting and safe.
Once he got back to Chicago he called up the River Bend police station and inquired about a position. Turned out there was. One of the deputies was moving and the position needed to be filled. But, he was asked, why would a Chicago cop want to be a deputy of a small town when all the action was in the big city? Stavic answered, Sheriff Kinney nodding in understanding. Stavic filled out the paperwork, got glowing recommendations from his bosses, and met with Sheriff Kinney. He was offered the job on the spot. Less than a week later Stavic was packed and moved, leaving behind the disgusting nature of the human species.
Or so he thought.
The soft glow of an impending sunset illuminated the horizon. He breathed deeply, taking in the crisp autumn air. Wasn’t sure how much longer until snow fell. Couple of weeks at most. He closed his eyes and stretched his back. It cracked. He let out a long throaty sigh, leaned forward, and opened his eyes.
“What do you think this guy was doing out here?” Stavic mused.
“That’s a very interesting question,” Kinney said, and patted him on the shoulder. “I think you should start figuring that out.”
* * *
She didn’t know how to broach the subject of pregnancy with Emily. This was new territory for her, and it scared the crap out of her.
The sun was down and Claire sat in the living room watching television. She stared at the flickering image, the sound low. Hard to believe only a few days ago she nearly died here. She looked at the spot where she’d been found, trying to imagine how she’d looked, what Emily had seen. Emily had told her how terrified she’d been, but she couldn’t imagine it. Sure she’d been scared before, of things Emily did as a child—running into the street, falling out of a tree—but those resulted in moments of adrenalized panic, nothing like finding someone who was for all intents and purposes dead.
Claire wrapped her robe around her a little tighter, tugging the ropes around her waist. She took her cup of hot tea and sipped it wishing for a cocktail instead. But a promise was a promise, one she intended to keep.
Trotting footsteps down the stairs echoed from the hallway. “Mom?” Emily asked peeking around the corner. Her eyes focused on the steaming cup in Claire’s hands.
Claire paid it no mind. “Yes sweetie?”
“Is it alright if I go to Jessica’s? We have a test tomorrow and she wants help studying.”
“That’s fine. Just be back by ten.”