Stevan Mena - Transience

“What did you do?” Rebecca crouched down beside him. He stopped twisting the wrench a moment, giving her his full attention.

“I just ignored them.”

“What happened?”

“They pulled my underwear over my head and tossed me in a trash can.” Rebecca frowned, not the ending she was hoping for. “But after a while they gave up. The trick is, no matter how bad it makes you feel inside, always stay strong on the outside. And if that doesn’t work, there’s always option number two.”

“Option number two?”

“Yeah; hit ’em where it hurts, then run.”

Rebecca smiled. “I like that option better.”

Jack continued tightening, his wrist beginning to ache from being wedged in such a tight spot, the spokes of the wheel jabbing him. He threaded the chain and stood up slowly, grimacing.

He righted the bike, straining from the effort. Rebecca noticed, a concerned look.

“There, try that,” Jack said. Rebecca climbed on. She pedaled cautiously, afraid of face planting again. This time she kept gliding down the sidewalk. Fixed! She looked back and smiled at Jack like he was the coolest person in the whole world. Jack waved her on, keep going!

For a moment he wished he was a kid again, he could ride along next to her and forget the world for a while. He got so caught up in the idea, he hadn’t noticed Laura walking across the lawn towards him.

“You just saved me a hundred bucks,” Laura said — appreciative, but at the same time suspicious of the stranger talking with her child. Jack saw the resemblance in her face, the same blue eyes.

“Mrs. Lowell?”

Laura was caught off guard. “Ms. …Can I help you?”

“Sorry, Detective Jack Ridge.” Jack held up his grease-covered hands as an excuse not to shake hers.

“I’m investigating the disappearance of Angelina Rosa.”

“I saw something about it on TV.” Laura kept one eye on Rebecca, doing circles at the end of the street.

“You recently brought Rebecca to see a Doctor Hellerman?” Laura’s friendly demeanor evaporated.

“What’s this got to do with my daughter?” Jack could sense her guard going up. He hurried right to the point.

“He ever discuss his concern that what was troubling Rebecca could be the repressed memory of an actual crime?”

“What?” Laura’s eyes opened wide.

Jack held up both hands, hang on . “Doctor Hellerman used to deal in criminal psychiatry. We worked together on several cases, he provided competency evaluations of defendants we were prosecuting. He’s got a lot of experience with witness testimony.”

Laura put her hand on her hip, out of sorts. “He never mentioned anything — what right does he have to discuss my daughter’s—”

“Anytime there’s information that can help prevent or solve a serious crime, disclosure is warranted.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Angelina’s been missing over three months now. Hard working, good home, stayed out of trouble. Not the kind to just run away.”

“Why would Rebecca know anything about it?”

“I don’t know.” Jack sounded confused himself. Laura shook her head incredulously.

“She never leaves my sight, except to go to school and back.”

“You’re saying you don’t think there’s any chance—”

“She would have told me.”

“Perhaps she was scared to? Or threatened?”

“I can’t believe I’m having this conversation…” Laura clasped her hands together in a prayer-like pose, covering her mouth.

Rebecca was now riding towards them, a big smile on her face. Laura missed that smile.

“It’s working great now!” Rebecca shouted.

“Becca, go inside.” The smile drained from Rebecca’s face. She considered protesting, but sensed the seriousness of her mother’s tone. She got off the bike and walked it inside.

“I’ll admit, I was skeptical myself,” Jack said, stopping shy of revealing just how he came to share in Leonard’s conviction. The tape . He dared not reveal the level of intimacy Leonard had shared with him about Rebecca’s therapy sessions.

“This is ridiculous. She’s been having nightmares, some trouble at school. We’ve both been through a lot lately, what with my divorce, new house, new school. It’s hard on a child.”

“I didn’t mean to press. When you get to the point of frustration that I am with this case, you find you’ll listen to anything on the slim chance that—”

“He wanted to prescribe all these pills…”

“Is that why you stopped seeing the doctor?”

“There’s nothing wrong with her,” Laura said defensively. “Nothing we can’t work through ourselves.”

“I see,” Jack sensed his window was closing. He reached into his pocket and handed her his business card. “Well, if you think of anything, please—”

A violent cough stopped Jack mid-breath. Laura took a step back. “Don’t worry, it’s not contagious,” Jack said through watery eyes in between hacks.

Laura examined his card. “Is this why he was so interested in her?”

Jack took a slow breath, calming. He turned to answer her, “How do you mean?”

“He offered to treat Rebecca for free. Called several times, left messages on my machine, even offered to come here. Don’t you think that’s strange?”

Jack considered it. “Yes, I do. Please, feel free to call me. Anytime.”

Jack turned and hobbled off, clearing his throat. Laura watched him trudge slowly to his car.

“Thanks,” Laura called out, “…for fixing the bike.”

Jack acknowledged her and kept walking. She turned to see Rebecca peeking out the kitchen window. Her tiny face quickly disappeared from view.

Jack steadied himself on the hood of his car and cleared his throat again. He covered his mouth and coughed hard. Something in his chest felt odd, different. He opened his hand, it was filled with dark blood.

That was a new symptom.

Leonard was in the office working late. The phone rang. Recognizing the number, he allowed the machine to get it.

He let Laura vent into voicemail. Again. She’d called several times earlier, he’d instructed his secretary to say he was out of the office. Laura was furious, and he wasn’t ready to address this sensitive subject with her just yet. He might never be.

Of course not, he was a respected physician, and he wasn’t prepared to throw his practice away. Not without evidence. Evidence he hoped Jack might uncover.

Leonard knew that once the cat was out of the bag, there was no going back. But he trusted Jack; most who knew Jack did. He was the right person at the right time. Unfortunately, any hope for discretion was now out the window.

Perhaps if he had confided the whole truth, told Jack everything, maybe Jack would have understood the need for circumspection. But the whole truth couldn’t be imparted in one sitting; Jack needed a primer to digest all of the information.

Better yet, he needed to witness it firsthand. Otherwise, he’d have just labeled him crazy and walked out, angry for wasting his time.

Jack sat upright on the cold white examining table. He’d been sitting there over an hour and was starting to wonder if they’d forgotten about him. Before he could finish the thought, Doctor Moss entered the room carrying Jack’s medical results.

Jack liked straight talk, no sugar, he didn’t need his hand held. Dr. Moss, one of the youngest doctors at the clinic, learned early on that Jack was a model patient if you just omitted the bedside manner. And never ask him to sit down.

“It’s spreading faster than we expected,” the doctor said. Jack swallowed and maintained eye contact. “It’s metastasized through your lymphatic system to the lungs.” Jack was no doctor, but he had a thorough understanding of forensics and the human body, especially what made you dead in a hurry. His prognosis had been steadily declining for some time now, so none of this came as a surprise. Still, it’s never easy to hear your expiration date has been moved up.