C.E. Murphy - Truthseeker

“Of course I don’t have Stockholm syndrome. How could I, when the man who supposedly kidnapped me has been in jail for the last year?”

Another silence, this one considering, seized the press corps for the briefest moment. Lara whipped around, her pride too great to let her actually run inside, though it was a near thing. Another barrage of questions rushed after her, and exasperation rose up a second time as she pulled the door open. “Yes,” she said over her shoulder, in response to something half-heard. “Yes, as a matter of fact, I did disappear off the face of the earth. I’m sure that’ll be a very exciting mystery for you to solve. I have nothing more to say to you, not now and not ever.”

The door closed behind her, cutting off the inquisition. Lara let out an explosive breath that loosened her anger, and Kelly applauded. “That was impressive. You told them off and you told the truth.”

“Sometimes I amaze even myself,” Lara said without a hint of irony. She straightened her skirt—she’d gone shopping that morning, instinctively searching for a black suit skirt and a red silk blouse, and had thought nothing of it until Kelly’d looked at them and said, “Battle colors, eh?”

Caught out, Lara had almost exchanged the blouse for a blue one, but in the end had kept the red. She was preparing for battle, after all, though of a different sort than had seen her strap on moonlit armor. Confident she was presentable, she approached the front desk, where a stout officer in an ill-fitting uniform looked her up and down. “Yeah, I know who you are. Washington’ll be out in a minute.” He went so far as to pick up the phone and send a message to make certain that would happen, and Lara, feeling somehow chastised, retreated to wait on the detective’s arrival.

“I’ve never been in a police station before,” she whispered to Kelly. “Have you?”

“More than I’d like to think about, the last year and a half.” Kelly leaned against her for a hug.

Embarrassment flooded Lara’s chest. “Right.”

“Hey, don’t worry about it. All’s well that ends well.” Kelly smiled, and Lara’s discomfort faded.

“Miss Jansen?” A tall, good-looking man in a suit—off the rack, Lara thought, but well-cut and long enough in the arm for his height—came through a side door and extended a hand to Lara. “I’m Detective Washington. I was assigned to your case last year. Kelly,” he added. “Good to see you again. How are the wedding plans going?”

“Better than they’ve ever been. I’ve got a maid of honor now.” Kelly, beaming, stood on her toes to kiss the detective’s cheek after he shook Lara’s hand.

“Congratulations. I hope I’m still invited.”

“Of course you are. We got to be friends,” Kelly said to Lara, more shyly than she’d admitted to being engaged. “Neither Dickon nor I would leave him alone. I wouldn’t give up hope and Dickon wouldn’t accept David was guilty.”

“And you were right. You have no idea how glad we all are to see you back safely, Ms. Jansen. Can you come this way?”

Lara looked between Washington and Kelly, her eyebrows lifting as a feeling of loss worked its way through her. A day, she thought. A day, and seventeen months. Her world had changed, even if she hadn’t. Or hadn’t much: her talent was stronger than it had been, but in comparison to the differences in Kelly’s life, that seemed like nothing. Lara murmured, “Sure,” and fell into step behind the detective.

He led them through a labyrinth of halls whose cream-colored paint was sallowed by aging fluorescent lights. A few officers smiled as they passed by; more nodded, and one or two did a double take, clearly recognizing Lara. “I feel like an exhibit,” she breathed to Kelly, but it was Washington who answered.

“Sorry for saying so, but in a way, you are. People don’t usually turn up after going missing for a year and a half.”

“Not usually,” Lara echoed. “But sometimes.” She stepped through a door Washington opened for her, looking back at him for an answer.

“Sometimes, yeah.” Washington gestured her to a desk in the midst of a dozen others, then looked apologetically at Kelly. “Sorry. I only have the one chair.”

She grinned. “I know. I’ve been in it often enough. I’ll go grab a cup of really bad vending machine coffee. Want me to bring some back for you?”

“If I give you five bucks will you go to Starbucks instead?” Washington reached for his wallet, but Kelly waved him off.

“My treat. Celebrating Lara’s return. You want anything, Lar?”

“An iced tea, please?”

“Will do. And try to remember everything you say, because I’m going to want all the details later.” Kelly winked and hurried off, leaving Lara feeling oddly fortified. She sat down, smiling, and Washington returned the smile as he pulled his own chair out.

“That woman’s a firecracker. Never gave up on you.”

“I hope I wouldn’t, either.” Lara held her breath a moment. “Detective, I really wasn’t kidnapped. I don’t know what the legal proceedings are to get someone who’s been wrongfully imprisoned out of jail, but I hope you’ll help me. He hasn’t actually been convicted yet, right? So maybe it’s not too hard?”

Washington lifted an eyebrow. “Well, if you can convince me, that’ll help when we bring it to a judge. Where did you say you’d gone?”

“I didn’t.”

The words fell flat, Washington’s mouth thinning as it became clear that was all Lara would say. “Ms. Jansen, we scoured a tristate area. We studied every security tape, every Greyhound station, every car rental agency, every airport, and found nothing. No activity on credit cards or bank accounts, no sightings at Seven-eleven convenience stores, no hitchhiking encounters. Children disappear that way, Ms. Jansen. People with no links, no friends, no family, disappear that way. People like you don’t.”

“All evidence to the contrary.”

The detective beat a rhythm on his desk, then nodded. “All evidence to the contrary. You disappeared off the face of the earth.”

Lara spread her hands, a thread of amusement working its way through her. “That’s what the media outside said, too, and I’m content to leave it at that.” She softened her tone as irritation darkened Washington’s face. “I know you want answers, Detective. I think you even deserve them, but I also know you wouldn’t like the ones I have to give. Not knowing might eat at you, but if I told you anything, you’d think I was lying, and that would only make you angrier. You won’t believe me, but you’ll be happier if you just let the whole thing go.”

“You practice this story, you and Kirwen? He said damned near the same thing when we arrested him.”

“I imagine detectives have to be pretty good judges of character. Either we practiced, or we’re independently telling the truth. You make the call.”

Curiosity sparked in Washington’s eyes. “You’re not quite what I expected, Ms. Jansen. Everyone I talked to, even your mother, described you as shy. Nonassertive. Given that kind of billing, I’d say you just read me the riot act.”

“It’s been seventeen months, Detective Washington.” Seventeen months, or one day. Lara shrugged a little. “People change.”

“I guess so.” Washington studied her a few moments more, finally pulling a hand over his face. “I don’t know what to do with you, Ms. Jansen. Never had a kidnapping victim turn up and say no, sorry, didn’t happen. If I had, I’d expect her to have an explanation. Without one—”

“With or without one,” Lara said steadily, “with my reappearance, you have no reason to hold David Kirwen. I’ve read news stories every once in a while about how people who were supposedly murdered have reappeared, and the person convicted of killing them has been released. How is this any different?”