All Things Lost Page 12

  “I hate the beach,” he grumbled.

  “How can you hate the beach?” I asked in amazement.

  “It's not the beach so much as the sand. It just gets in places I didn't even know I had and God knows sand isn't meant to be there. I feel like I'm in a giant litter box. They should just pave over all the sand with concrete.”

  “Then it wouldn't be the beach, it'd be a giant swimming pool.”

  “Yeah, well, like I said: I hate the beach. So, why are you avoiding Asher? I thought you two were going to try being friends.”

  “What? I…I'm not…”

  He laughed, “Never mind. It's none of my business.”

  “Where's Darin?” I asked, relieved to receive permission to change the subject.

  “He's home with Mom. I felt awful about leaving him but Mom insisted. It's the first time I've gone out since he came home. Not to mention the first time I've really left him like this.”

  “He'll be fine. You're mom raised you, right? She knows what she's doing.”

  “It's not that. It's just leaving him. I can't get him off my mind.”

  “You need something or someone to distract you. I'm surprised Bryan isn't here with you.”

  He shot me a funny look. “He called yesterday and invited me to go somewhere with him to watch the fireworks. I told him no since I didn't think I'd be able to go then.”

  “See!” I crowed, “I told you he was interested in you.”

  “I don't know,” he said slowly.

  “What do you mean, you don't know? He asked you out! What's not to know?”

  “Not that. I mean I don't know if I'm ready for that yet.”

  “Will,” I said gently, “You can't hide away forever. You have to move on eventually.”

  “Eventually maybe, but maybe not right now.”

  Our conversation was cut short by forty-five pounds of airborne six-year-old. Jamie slammed into my chest at full speed, knocking me over flat on my back.

  “Will you take me to get cotton candy, Killian?” he asked from his perch on my chest. He threw in a puppy dog look for effect. “Asher won't take me and Marcus says it's made of puppy piss. It isn't is it?”

  I couldn't help but laugh. “You shouldn't use words like that,” I tried to scold. I'm sure it would have been more effective had I not been giggling.

  “Words like what?”

  “Forget it. Cotton candy is made from sugar.”

  “That must be why it tastes so good. Will you take me? Pleeeease?”

  “Yes, I'll take you. As soon as you get off my chest so I can get up.”

  Jamie let out an ear piercing whoop, jumped up and ran back to his parents.

  “Pushover,” Will said with a grin as I stood up. “Remind me never to let you baby-sit Darin.”

  “You saw it! I was being held hostage.”

  Jamie was back in no time clutching a five-dollar bill and with Jake in tow.

  “Mind if I tag along?” Jake asked.

  I shrugged. “Why not? The more the merrier. Will, you wanna come too?”

  “Nah, I don't think so.”

  I took Jamie firmly by the hand and we waded into the horde.

  “So,” Jake said into my ear, “where's the gay scene around here?”

  “What gay scene?” I laughed.

  He frowned. “There has to be something.”

  “Look, going from California to the Eastern Shore of Maryland has to be like culture shock, but you grew up here; you know what it's like.”

  “I grew up here but I didn't know I was gay then. I was just figuring it out when everything happened. Aren't there any clubs or anything?”

  “Sure, in DC and Baltimore. None around here, at least not like you're talking about. I think there's one in Rehoboth that I've heard about.”

  “Great, so I'm going to be forced to live like a monk to atone for my sins in California. Is that what you're telling me?”

  I laughed. “I didn't say that.”

  “How do you stand it? How do you meet people?”

  “I don't. Asher's the only guy I've ever dated and I've not exactly jumped back into the dating pool since we broke up.”

  “What dating pool? It looks more like a dating puddle. Not even a puddle; it's a dating…what's shallower than a puddle?”

  “Is this a trick question?”

  “Hey! Are you trying to say I'm shallow?”

  “Perish the thought.”

  Our conversation pretty much ended while we waited in line for Jamie's cotton candy. We paid for the sugar-on-a-stick and then fought our way back to where our family and friends waited.

  Soon the fireworks began. They were extraordinary. I love fireworks anyway, but these seemed especially grand this year. Everyone oo-ed and ah-ed except for little Melody who started crying from the loud explosions. Jamie jumped up and down in excitement.

  In the middle of the display, I suddenly thought that the only thing that would have made this day better was if I had someone to share it with. Without thinking, I turned and searched for Asher. He was sitting on the far side of our little group, as far from me as he could get. He had his knees drawn up to his chest and his arms looped around his legs. His chin rested on his knees as he watched the pyrotechnics. The different colors lit his face and his hair blew softly; it had grown out even more. A wave of longing swept over me, so strong that I almost cried out.

  “Are you ok?” someone asked.

  I turned to find Adam had shifted over closer to me.

  “Yeah, why?” I asked as calmly as I could.

  “I just thought you looked a little lost there for a minute.”

  “I'm ok,” I insisted. Who was I trying to convince, me or Adam? I turned my attention back to the rockets and tried to lose myself in the music and color.

  As always, it was over too soon. We said good-bye to the Davis' and started our walk back. I walked a little behind the others. After a while, Adam dropped back and matched my pace.

  “So how are you really?” he asked.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I saw you looking at Asher back there. You miss him, don't you?”

  I sighed. “I don't know. Yes and no. I just don't know what I feel, confused mostly. I missed him tonight, and then other times I hardly even think about him. It's been so nice just being free for a while.”

  “And maybe that's what you needed…for a while. It doesn't mean it's the way it has to be forever.”

  “What if I've screwed things up too much?”

  “It happens. Do you want to get back together with him?”

  “I don't know. Not yet, I don't think.”

  “Have you ever been fishing for big fish?”

  That seemed to come from nowhere. “No.”

  “When you catch a big fish you're supposed to let him have the hook for a bit, then you fight him. The object is to keep him on the hook but tire him out so you can reel him in. But if you play around too much he'll get away.”

  “Thank you, Captain Bob. I'm sure you have a point here somewhere…”

  “I'm getting to it, don't rush me. My point is; you've got Asher on the hook right now. And he'll probably stay on the hook for a little while, but you'd better decide what you want soon or he may just break free.”

  “Isn't the rest of that something about plenty of fish in the sea?”

  “Not really, at least not like Asher.”

  He left me with that and caught back up with the others. I stayed back, thinking that it was possible Asher was already off the hook.

  * * *

  It was the next afternoon before I got a chance to tell Novak about my conversation with Caleb. He was busy with another case he was working on, an insurance scam for the insurance company he worked for often.

  During lunch, Novak called me into his office while he ate and asked me what I thought we should do next on my case. My case he called it! I pulled out my notebook from my meeting and filled him in. He seemed impressed by my metic
ulous notes. After I was done talking we sat silent for a minute while he chewed.

  “That's a good start, kid,” he said around a mouthful of sub. He took another huge bite and a shower of shredded lettuce along with a slice of tomato dropped down his front. He looked down mournfully at the small salad on his lap. “Damn, that'll leave an oil stain on my pants. So what do you want to do next?”

  “I don't know. I was hoping you'd have some suggestions,” I said as I handed him the trash can. He swept the mess off his lap into the can and handed it back.

  “I could, but then I'd be calling the shots and this is your case.”

  “But you're the one with all the experience.” He shot me a look so I gave in. “Well, I'd like to look at the house. I don't know why, just get a feel for where it happened I guess.” He nodded approvingly so I guess that was a good sign. “And while I'm there I guess I could talk to the neighbors.”

  He grinned and I felt like a student suddenly gaining the favor of his favorite teacher, which I guess in a way I was. “That's just what I would have done,” he said. “After I finish eating we'll drive over there and see what's up.”

  “What about your case?”

  “I can't do any more on that until tomorrow.”

  “Cool.”

  We drove over in Bessie, who, it seemed had decided not to die after all. Still, the drive came complete with clunks, bangs and defeated sighs at every stop; it seemed like every rattle could be her death rattle. I was afraid she would cut off one of these times and just flatly refuse to start again, but Novak seemed much more confident in her abilities.

  We eventually arrived at the house in one piece. I pried my fingers out of the dash board and climbed out.

  The house sat on a patch of weed-filled lawn with one lone twisted and scorched tree off to one side. Set a good ways behind was an old barn with a section of its roof caved in. On one side, a row of Leyland Cypresses separated the Cohen's yard from a modest rancher with a well-kept yard. On the other side was a small field which led to an old farmhouse a short distance away. There was nothing across the road except acre upon acre of flat farmland.

  The centerpiece, of course, was the huge pile of blackened timbers that sat lurking on the spot I assumed the house once occupied. It had the feel of death about it, almost like it was the final resting place of some huge beast. The smoky smell of burnt wood and ash still hung heavy in the air even though the first had been weeks ago. It brought back fresh memories from the night I killed Todd, of the house burning down around us, the intense heat feeling like it would split open my very skin. I shuddered involuntarily.

  “You ok?” Novak asked, eying me carefully. Everyone seemed to be asking me that lately. I was beginning to wonder myself.

  “Yeah,” I said, keeping my doubts to myself, “I was caught in a house fire once. This brought back a few memories, but I'm fine.”

  “You're sure?”

  “Yeah. What are we looking for?”

  “I don't know that we're looking for anything, really. We're not professionals in either fires or forensics, so we're not going to bother with the house itself at all. Just get a feel for the place, walk around, then we'll try talking to the neighbors.”

  “Ok,” I agreed and began walking around the house. Little things kept stirring in my brain, voices rising up like ghosts from my past, roused by the scents of the recent blaze.

  “Asher! There's a fire!” I'd screamed so long ago.

  “How do we get out?” was Asher's anguished response, and then, “We can't.”

  “Asher, I love you. If we don't survive…”

  “We will!”

  “But if we don't, I want you to know that I'll always love you…”

  It had all been so simple then, in that instant of facing death head on. I loved Asher and he loved me. What more did we need? How about a clue? I thought bitterly. It wasn't as simple as that, as we'd learned.

  I circled once around the house and then I walked back towards the barn. I peeked in through the door, which hung crookedly ajar on its rusted hinges. I decided not to go in. I wasn't sure how much I trusted the ramshackle structure. I slowly circled the building, peering in windows and doors as they appeared. I was at the back of the building when my foot fell on something soft. I stepped back quickly and looked to see what it was. Whatever it was, it was black and almost hidden in the tall grass close to the barn. I crouched down to get a closer look. It appeared to be a piece of shiny material of some sort. I called Novak over to take a look.

  “Do you think it's anything important?” I asked him as he poked at it with his pen.

  “I don't know. Do you have any idea what it is?” He hooked it with the end of his pen and picked it up.

  “It looks like a hood of some sort.”

  “I think it's a surfer's hood, see the Velcro here at the bottom? That's where it would attach to the wetsuit.”

  “Oh yeah, I've never surfed but I've seen them before. Do you think it's a clue?”

  Novak chuckled and pulled a plastic bag out of his pocket, “A clue, huh? Perhaps Colonel Mustard did it in the conservatory with the wrench.” He dropped the hood into the plastic bag and sealed it up.

  “Go ahead, mock the dumb kid.”

  “You're not dumb, kid; just a little green. And as far as whether or not it's a clue, I have no idea. Looks like the detectives handling the case would have taken it if they thought it was important, but then again it's possible they missed it. I'll turn it over to them and tell them where we found it. I'm sure they'll want to know what the hell I was doing here but I'll just tell them I was taking a look around for a friend. They won't give me too hard a time.”

  We finished the loop around the barn without any more discoveries, then we tramped over to the old farm house. On closer inspection it was not just old, but leaning towards decrepit. It was sadly in need of a paint job and several panes of glass had been replaced with cardboard and duct tape. We stepped up onto the sagging side porch, knocked loudly on the door, and waited. No one answered, so we knocked again. Still no one came to the door so we gave up and started traipsing back across the field. I looked back once and thought I saw a curtain twitch at one of the windows, but they were far from airtight and it could have just been the wind blowing through a crack.

  We had to go out on the road to get around the hedge row of trees in order to reach the other house. The rancher and its yard were well-cared for, in stark contrast to the house we had just left. Well tended shrubs grew along its foundation and a wreath hung on the front door merrily bid us welcome. We knocked on the door and it was promptly opened by a woman I would guess was in her early thirties. She had auburn hair cut short and friendly brown eyes. She was slightly overweight but handled it well with stylish clothing. It was obvious she was a woman comfortable in her body.

  “Can I help you?” she said pleasantly, but warily, as if she suspected we were Jehovah's Witnesses about to try our best to save her damned soul from eternal hell.

  “Yes,” Novak said, “my name is Shane Novak. I'm a private investigator and this is my assistant, Killian Kendall. Could we have a few moments of your time?”

  At the mention of private investigator, her eyes widened, but she stepped out onto the porch. I guess she wasn't quite ready to let us in, but we were trustworthy enough to talk to outside.

  “I'm Becky Haynes. Is this about what happened next door?”

  I'm always surprised at the lengths some people would go to just to avoid talking about something unpleasant. I wanted to say, “You mean the guy getting chopped up with an ax and then burned to a crisp?” but that seemed a little crude so I let Novak do the talking.

  “Yes, it is. I'm not working with the police on this case so you don't have to answer my questions if you don't want to.”

  “That's ok. Who are you working for, if you don't mind my asking?”

  “We're not really working for anyone. We're here on behalf of a friend of the young man who's been accu
sed.”

  “Caleb?”

  “Yes.”

  “Is he ok? I've been worried about him.”

  “Well Killian went to see him so I'll let him answer that.”

  I was surprised at suddenly being handed the microphone, so to speak. “I…he…ugh…he seemed ok. He said that you helped him out when you could.”

  “He did?” She pursed her lips for a second and I was afraid she was going to burst into tears, but after blinking rapidly for a few seconds, she went on. “I tried to do what I could. It wasn't easy for him.”

  “You knew he was being abused?” Novak asked.

  She looked away. “Everyone knew.”

  “Why didn't you report it?”

  “I did. Twice. Nothing ever came of it. After awhile, you just get to the point where you feel there's no point in it. Like I said, I tried to do what I could.”

  “Did you see anything or hear anything the night of the murder?”

  “Not until the fire was pretty high. By then the fire trucks were almost here. Mrs. Fields called them I think. She had a bout with her heart right after that. Probably caused by all the excitement. I'm not sure if she's home yet or not.”

  “So you didn't see anything?” he pressed.

  “No, you can see that our view of their yard is pretty well obstructed by the trees there. We put them in as a windbreak and now they've all grown together.”

  “Who was there that night, do you know?”

  “I know Ira was because he came over a little after six and asked if we'd seen his dog. He has, or had, this old rabbit hound that loved to run away whenever it got out of the barn, which was almost weekly.” I could believe that after seeing the state of the barn, and couldn't blame him for running away either.

  “Anyone else?”

  “I really don't have any way of knowing. Maybe Nadine. She was there most nights.”

  “Nadine was Mr. Cohen's…girlfriend?”

  “I guess you could call her that,” Mrs. Haynes said doubtfully.

  “Do you know where we could find this Nadine?”

  “I think she works at a hair salon in town. It's something corny like Hair Apparent or Mane Attraction…something like that.”

  “Do you think you could narrow it down a bit, maybe even give us a last name?”