Stevan Mena - Transience

Jack felt consumed by regret — and guilt. He had been a party to this, he contributed to her confusion as much as Leonard. Laura was the only one who had remained lucid and sane. They’d taken a few startling occurrences, some ramblings, and conjured a fantasy. One he was more than willing to subscribe to. Facing death, desperate, knowing that his cherished memories of Sarah would be lost to oblivion forever, memories that kept her spirit alive. All those moments.

The hope that perhaps there was a reason to life, fate, karma, another chance to learn, reconnect, live again. He bought it. All of it.

But Rebecca’s clues didn ’ t find the killer, did they?

In the end, it was Teresa Mason’s bravery that collared their man. Not the supernatural. Laura, Harrington, they had tried to talk some sense into him. How easily we’re misled when we want to believe something for our own personal motivations. How had he let his normally conservative judgment become so clouded? That lapse in reason took his investigation off on a tangent and, because of that, Angelina was dead now.

The phone on his desk rang. He watched the little yellow button blink off and on. He pressed it.

“Ridge.”

“I hear you arrested Edward Bishop,” Leonard said.

“That’s right.” Jack could hear Leonard sigh on the other end.

“Bishop is a former patient of mine. I evaluated him during his rape trial. He’s been in and out of the psych ward for years.”

“What’s your point?”

“Carmen knew her killer, she trusted him, went with him willingly.”

“He already confessed.”

“He’s lying.”

“Leonard, I’ve played along long enough.”

“Jack, listen to me, the answer is there, we just haven’t figured it out yet.”

“I have to go.”

“Edward Bishop doesn’t have the ability to facilitate friendships, even temporary. Speak to him.”

“I have.”

“He doesn’t fit the description.”

“Description? Right now I have a description from a girl who died trying to defend herself, his DNA was scraped from her fingernail bed. I got a car that matches a vehicle description from a witness in Ann Arbor. I have verification that he was working at Monroe College while Carmen was a student.”

“I’m not denying he attacked the Mason girl, but he’s not the one who killed Carmen, he’s probably not the one who took Angelina.”

“Hard evidence and solid police work solved this case.”

There was a long pause. “10 years of solid police work didn’t find Carmen’s body,” Leonard said.

“Dumb luck.”

“Bullshit. Angelina still hasn’t been found.”

“He named the location.”

“Where?”

“The reservoir.”

“You won’t find anything. I guarantee it.” Jack gave Leonard’s words some consideration, but only out of respect for their friendship.

“I don’t have time to debate this with you, Leonard.”

“I stopped by to visit Carmen’s mother, Jack. Don’t worry, I didn’t tell her why I was there. I simply said I was from the police department and offered counseling. She refused, but she did say that you were there again recently. You didn’t explain to her exactly why, either. What were you looking for in the girl’s bedroom?”

Jack was silent.

“The diary… You were looking for the diary—”

“Goodbye, Leonard—”

“I want to come in and question him! You can arrange that!”

“Leonard, this is a murder investigation, I don’t have time to help you conduct research for your God damn book!”

Jack slammed down the phone. The image of Rebecca from Carmen’s painting kept surfacing in his thoughts. Must remain rational. Coincidence. Mere coincidence.

Harrington opened the door and entered. Jack hadn’t heard the knob click, was he outside the whole time, listening?

“Jack, you never gave up. Everyone knows that. Carl Rosa knows that. You’re a good man.”

“Not good enough.” Jack stood up and reached for his jacket. He looked out the window and caught a glimpse of Carl walking towards his car, his head down, reporters smothering him, shoving microphones under his chin in desperation to squeeze a sound bite of grief out of him for the 6 o’clock news.

“Don’t beat yourself up, Jack. It’s not worth it.”

“Worth it? I’d rather work 25 hours a day than face those few seconds right before you give someone news that’s going to destroy the rest of their lives.”

“That’s our job.”

“No. Our job is to try and prevent those moments from ever happening.”

Harrington conceded, never intending to have a long conversation, already wearing his coat.

“Well, I gotta go, gotta explain to the wife why there was 1,300 dollars stuffed in my sock drawer. One of my kids told her I won it on the Denver game. Believe that? These kids and their crazy imaginations.”

Harrington exited. Jack looked down at the cassette player.

“Yeah…”

Jack reached down and placed his finger on the eject button. He tapped it and Rebecca’s tape spit out. He held it up for a few seconds, frowned, then tossed it across his desk, scattering a few papers. One of them, the invitation his brother had left, fluttered to the floor by his feet.

He reached down to pick it up. He slid his finger under the lip of the envelope and opened it.

Laura turned down Hastings Boulevard and noticed how much things had changed since she last traveled these parts as a teenager over a decade ago. It was much dirtier now, several stores she used to frequent had been shuttered. The corner drug store where she once stole cigarettes was still open.

“Where are we going?” Rebecca asked from the back seat.

“To see an old friend.” Laura had decided to just put it all out on the table for Rebecca. Whatever the consequences. She knew this was all inevitable. It was time.

Laura exchanged glances between Rebecca and the road, watching her expression for any changes, looks of recognition, any reaction at all. But Rebecca just sat quietly.

She turned down Woods Avenue, Hester’s apartment complex came into view. It was all coming back to her now. Carmen had always seemed embarrassed by her family, especially her mother. Hester was very religious and often said or did things to make it seem like Carmen was being raised in the middle ages. She came across as a fanatic to the uninitiated. But Laura never thought anything less of her, or considered her weird. Compared to her own upbringing, most other families seemed normal.

As she pulled up to the curb, she gazed at the iron railing along the steps that led to a small balcony by the apartment entrance. On days with nothing to do, she and Carmen had stood up there and watched the traffic go by.

On one occasion, a blue and white-striped butterfly with an enormous wingspan fluttered past them and landed on Laura’s shoulder. Laura remembered screaming with excitement. The noise brought Carmen’s mother, Hester, to the front door to see what all the fuss was about. Carmen reached out to touch the butterfly and Hester yelled at her to leave it alone. She remembered Hester saying if a butterfly lands on your shoulder, it means that you have a good aura and a kind spirit. And that other spirits would want to remain close to you, love you. How’s that working out, Laura?

Carmen commented on how beautiful the butterfly was. Hester then asked Carmen if she had thanked God for showing her such beauty. She then made Carmen say it out loud. “ Thank you Lord, for revealing to me your beauty in the world.” Carmen was so embarrassed, she didn’t speak the rest of the afternoon. That was the only really odd moment that stood out in Laura’s mind.