Stevan Mena - Transience

“You know what they do to sexual offenders in general population, you’ve done some time,” Harrington said.

“Take a good look,” Jack said. “Do you know where she is?”

“After a while, they all start to look alike.”

Jack stood up, frustrated.

“Give me a few minutes with him, alone,” Harrington said.

The door opened and Jennifer entered. “Mr. Bishop’s lawyer is outside.”

Jack leaned over the table, placing both palms down, leaning right into Bishop’s face. “Right now I’ve got you on aggravated assault, weapons possession. If Teresa dies, you’re looking at murder.”

“I want to speak to my lawyer, tell him how you physically mistreated me.” Bishop flashed a big toothy grin. He looked back at Harrington, who remained stone faced, only the rule of law holding him back. Jennifer held the door open, Jack pulled on Harrington’s shoulder to exit with him.

They retreated into the adjacent room. Jack looked in at Bishop, who was sitting up straight now, his hands on his lap, not a care in the world. Bishop turned towards the glass as if he could feel Jack’s stare, sending the rare chill down Jack’s spine.

“They found a tan Buick Skylark parked behind his house. It’s registered in his name,” Jennifer said.

“The Ann Arbor victim, Delgado, was last seen getting into a late model tan vehicle before she disappeared,” Jack said.

“We have Teresa Mason’s account, Bishop fits the profile,” Harrington added.

“She doesn’t,” Jack said.

“Maybe he got tired of Latinos,” Harrington said.

Jack watched as Bishop picked his nose, examining his fingertip for prizes. “I expected more intelligence from someone so meticulous and patient. Ten years is a long time to evade suspicion.”

“Could be a ruse; they’re master manipulators,” Jennifer said. Jack watched Bishop’s lawyer enter the room, taking the seat where Jack had been sitting.

Jack exited the holding area and walked down the hall. Carl Rosa entered his path from the other end, ambushing him head on. Carl was sweaty, on edge, ready to burst.

“Jack, I hear you’re holding a suspect in custody?”

“That’s right.”

“Did he take my daughter?”

“I don’t know Carl.”

“What are you waiting for?”

“He’s a suspect. If he knows anything, we’ll get it from him.”

Carl pushed past Jack. “I’ve waited long enough.”

“Carl, you can’t go back there,” Jack’s words prodded an officer nearby into action. He grabbed Carl, restraining him at the waist. Carl didn’t resist.

As they walked him away, he paused and turned to Jack. “Do you have any idea what it’s like to have the only thing you love in this world… ripped from your heart?”

Jack’s lip quivered. He had no desire to bring Carl Rosa up to speed on his familiarity with grief and loss. And he understood, after years of hearing that question repeated in one form or another, that it was rhetorical.

Jennifer approached from behind to rescue him. “Jack, call for you.”

“I’ll take it in my office. Excuse me, Carl.” Jack respectfully placed his hand on Carl’s shoulder as he sidestepped him to get to his office.

He closed the door behind him and picked up the phone. “Hello?”

“Jack, she’s gone.”

“Laura?”

“I’ve searched everywhere. Her bike is missing—”

“Okay, okay, slow down. Where are you?”

The rain pounded the pavement like buckets of water dumped all at once. Thunder cracked in the distance. Laura hopped in place, anxious, scanning the street.

Jack’s car finally turned the corner and pulled up along the curb. Laura raced off her front porch and climbed in.

“What happened?” Jack asked, pulling away, not even asking which direction they should head.

“I don’t know, I was on the phone — when I went to check on her, she was gone.”

“Don’t worry, we’ll find her.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know who else to call.”

“I’m glad you did.”

“She’s gotten worse, Jack. I don’t know if I can handle it anymore. I haven’t slept in days; I can barely see straight.”

“What’s the last thing she said to you?”

Laura paused a moment. “She keeps asking to go home.” Jack looked at Laura. They both knew at that moment where she might be headed.

The rain streaked on Jack’s dirty windshield, his wipers on the fastest setting, rocking back and forth as if they might fly off into the night. Jack had a swivel searchlight mounted on the side of his door. He rolled down the window and shined it along the dark side streets. He turned a corner and continued, twisting it back and forth, searching while trying to drive a straight line.

“This is my fault,” Laura cried.

“No, it isn’t. You’ve done everything right. If you want to blame anyone, blame me. I should never have brought her out there.”

Jack turned another corner; they headed into the urban area of town. Laura looked up and recognized the street they were on. And where it led.

“I know this road,” Laura said. Their eyes met for a moment, both thinking the same thing.

“This is crazy. She’s so confused. All these thoughts have been put into her head, she’s starting to believe it. It’s all been twisted.”

Jack held his tongue. He didn’t want to upset Laura, add to her plate — it wasn’t the time to bring up the painting he saw at the rec center gallery, inform her that Carmen somehow had a vision of her future incarnation and committed it to canvas. Maybe, when she was ready, he’d let Laura see it for herself. Dispel any doubt, like the kind that was beginning to creep into his own mind, the more he thought about Bishop.

Jack saw something reflect his light in the distance.

“Look,” Jack pointed.

As he drove closer he could see the spokes of Rebecca’s upended bicycle, the tire still spinning.

“How did she know to come this way? That Carmen lived over in this area?” Jack asked.

“Her address is written down in my phone book, Rebecca was looking through it last night.”

Of course. Common sense versus the supernatural was waging war inside Jack’s head. But… there are no coincidences. Are there?

“Is that her?” Jack pulled up along the shoulder.

“Oh my God!” Laura screamed. Jack climbed out of the car into the tall grass. He passed the bike, the chain had come undone again. Rebecca was lying face down in the mud, a few feet away.

“Is she alright?” Laura raced to join him.

They crouched beside her. Jack carefully turned her over onto her back. The heavy rain splashed onto Rebecca’s face, rinsing off some of the mud. Her eyes fluttered. Jack crouched over her to shield her from the rain.

“Rebecca?” they both said at the same time. Laura brushed some of the dirt away from Rebecca’s cheeks and nose. Rebecca opened her eyes and looked up at Jack.

“It broke again,” she said, her voice shallow and weak.

“You had us worried sick!” Laura said, trying to calm down.

Us? It sounded strange to Jack, to hear a woman say us , referring to him .

“Let’s get her in the car,” Jack said. Using all the strength he had left, Jack hoisted her up and carried her. Laura opened the door and Jack slid Rebecca into the back seat.

Laura climbed in next to her, to hold and comfort Rebecca on the ride home. Jack quickly retrieved Rebecca’s bicycle and placed it in the trunk, then got back in the car.

He leaned over the seat to make sure everyone was okay. Rebecca was sitting up, breathing loudly through her nose as Laura wiped mud from her cheeks and hair. Jack spun around to grab the wheel and put the car in drive. He hung a U-turn and sped off.