Brandon Enns - Islanders

“It is. Maybe not so great to be me.”

Valencia considered the comment and nodded.

Trevor turned around and glanced at the For Sale sign. “Sold already?”

“We don’t need this big house anyway.”

“Right. Well, you’ll do good things, Mr. Valencia. Please give me a call if you have any questions.” Trevor extended his hand and Gary paused, then took it firmly. “And please, think of Miller and Associates for your future needs.”

“I’ll do that.” Maybe it was sarcastic. Maybe it wasn’t. It didn’t matter.

His ledger was clear. Yes, the retainer from Fairway helped some in paying Valencia back, but after twelve months, they’d be dropped and Trevor would move on. His father was seeking medical attention. Erin was at home, likely sleeping, but even more likely, studying. I’ll bring her breakfast. Trevor walked all the way back home to discuss everything with his father. Was he pissed? You bet your ass he was pissed. Would he get over it? Yes, he would. After that, he called his Mercedes dealer. He didn’t need it. It made him look like a douche. He’d use the proceeds for some pro bono work, perhaps.

Her name was Tracy McGowen. She never had kids. Learning that fact didn’t clear her conscience in the way she had hoped it would.

Erin stood at her grave. The stonework was of the bargain variety. She set down flowers next to the headstone, kneeling to touch the print of her name. Her breath rose in the air and she shivered. She tightened her scarf around her neck.

Erin heard a grumble from a man behind her. He was short, bald, and moved like a man older than he was. He was recently retired from the NYPD.

“I hate the cold.”

Erin smiled and shook his hand. She was nervous.

“Erin, right?”

“Yes.”

“Nice to meet you.”

“Thanks for meeting me, Doug. This may be strange to you. I don’t know. We could have met at a coffee shop or something, but—”

He waved her off. “This is fine. It’s about time I stopped by for a visit. I haven’t seen McGowen since they put her to rest here. Not great on my part.”

“Were you close?”

“No. My experience with her was memorable though. She was young and eager, full of piss and vinegar. You know the type. I like that type.” He stared at the headstone, and she waited for him to speak again. “I prefer people that give a shit. Anyway, I was old and starting to count the days by then. She gave me the last push I needed to care about my job. I always thanked her for that.”

“Anything else you can you tell me about her?”

“I remember around Christmas she got herself a dog. Forget what kind… But she was a hell of a cop. I just wish she would have said something to me that day. I could have helped. But it was my day off and she didn’t want to bother me I guess. Maybe I was too bitter. I’m not sure. I’ve been told I frown too much.”

“Do you know was she seeing anyone? Boyfriend? Fiancé?”

“Not that I know of. I think she was a fairly private person, but maybe that was just my perception. But she definitely wasn’t engaged or anything like that. No mention of a man.”

“What about her parents?”

“Mother had passed if I recall correctly. Don’t know if she was overly close with her father. Not sure though. How’d you know Tracy?”

“I didn’t.”

“I thought you were friends as kids.”

Erin shook her head.

“Why’d you ask me here then?”

“I was there when she was killed.”

He was expressionless. “Oh… I see.”

She waited for more, and so did he. “You saw the shooting?”

Erin nodded, face hot, eyes filling.

“I don’t remember your name on any statement.”

“That’s because…” She choked down the saliva caught in her throat. “My boyfriend at the time… He shot her. I was with him. We robbed that bank.”

He looked down at the ground, then at the headstone, then back up at Erin. She cringed and covered her face. Erin didn’t want pity. She wasn’t sure what she wanted from the man. Maybe to put her in cuffs and tell her she was a monster and would pay for what she did to his partner.

“Why tell me this now?”

Erin forced out the words, “Couldn’t go on.”

He nodded in understanding. He hobbled up a step to lean on his other leg. “What is it you do now, Erin?”

She was taken aback, and wiped at her eyes. “I’m in med school. Last year, then residency.”

He nodded again. “That’s good.”

That’s good? I just told you I killed your partner. Cuff me! Punch me! Curse my name! Kill me! “ Good?”

“You made it out. I hope the money was worth it.”

“You’re not going to do anything about this?”

“You didn’t pull the trigger. And I reckon none of it was your idea? And it took a great amount of convincing to get you on board? And that you felt something strong for that boy. Maybe it was love, yeah?”

Erin was speechless.

“You a foster kid?”

“How did you know that?”

“Listen. Good people get themselves in bad situations. You wouldn’t have pulled that trigger in a million years. I bet my 401k on that.”

“That doesn’t matter.”

He smiled at her. “Don’t turn yourself in.”

“Why?” It came out angry.

“What would it accomplish?”

She shook her head in short jarring motions.

“You know what that guilt will do for you?” He didn’t let her answer. “Nothing. It doesn’t make you a better person, feeling guilty. You know what it’ll do for others? Nothing… But if only there was some marvelous act that could make a difference in someone’s life to make up for what happened. What could that be?” He shifted his focus onto the tombstone again, a glimpse of sorrow finally resonating on his face. “Yeah… That will work.”

“It’s not right.”

“Tracy wouldn’t want you in prison.”

Erin stared at the grass. Most of the snow was gone.

“I can’t tell you how to feel. I can’t even tell you I understand what you’re going through, because I don’t. So maybe you’re always gonna feel like this, but you can do something about that. Every time you feel shitty, go do something good. Or see a shrink, what do I know?”

Her tears were blinding her. There was no answer that was going to get rid of that awful feeling that had plagued her all of those years. There was no escaping it. It was inside her. She would have to live with it.

“My knee is locking up. It was good meeting you, Erin.”

“Jess,” she blurted out. “My name is Jessica.”

“I like Erin better.” He turned to leave, but she stopped him.

“What about him? He shouldn’t get away with it.”

He paused, agreeing with her. “It’s already happened. Leave it behind.”

Erin stared at him, begging for advice on a better solution.

“Sometimes there’s no right answer.” And with that, he left.

She turned her key, but the lock didn’t slide over; it was already open. She opened the door. Trevor was asleep on her couch. There were two coffees on the table next to the couch along with a grease-stained paper bag. She walked over and kissed him, then crawled on the inside. He woke up and dropped his hand on his forehead.

“Hey, where you been?”

“Just had to do something. You take care of your thing?”

“Yeah. It’s been handled.”

His body was like a furnace. She grabbed tight, snuggling up to absorb some of the heat. She tucked her cold feet on his bare legs and he twitched. “How are your feet that cold?” he complained.

“My real name is Jessica.” The words hung out there and he remained silent. Before answering he wrapped both arms around her.