My Novel: Chapter 6

Running:

Have you ever asked a very specific question and been given a vague answer? My most memorable question I asked the neurosurgeon after he fused my vertebrae C5-C6-C7: "When can I start running again?" He knew I was still struggling to get out of the hospital bed to shuffle into the bathroom, still pumped full of morphine, still in intense pain, and in no condition for the truth. He simply said, "We'll discuss it in six weeks at the post-op visit."

A few days before that visit I met my stylist at her salon and she turned me into a brunette. Oops, a redhead. So sorry about that, she said. Not! I liked the darker tones because it made me look smarter than I am, but there was a huge problem: Red hair plus pink lipstick plus a pink blouse highlighted my purplish scar... Oh well. Here's a laugh: it was giantly silly when I wore a shower cap home from the salon and showered to rinse coloring from my hair. I couldn't lean back into her wash bowl, you see. That was still an impossibility. Yes, there are many adjustments to make in life sometimes, and that was just one.

But I didn't skip wearing pink because usually I was wearing a heavily padded collar around my neck designed to prevent me from turning my head, lifting it, or lowering it. To tell the truth, only twice have I ever looked in the mirror and not liked my jagged scar. To me it symbolizes life and healing, and that my life is more than very excellent!

And when I could finally remove that collar, I could at last wear dangling earrings--an awesome luxury! It has been barely more than 5 months since that fateful and unexpected day, and I'm happy to say I can now turn my head much better, and raising my chin no longer gives me an immediate and intense migraine. At last I'm able to resume many things I love, and it helps me not focus on what I'll never do again. And so, for the final clear answer I received about running: "No. Never again. But we understand that for some people, they have to run and they will." I was shown the x-ray which clearly shows the degeneration of C4 in my neck. "You may return many years later to have this fuzed, but it will definitely be sooner if you run or engage in other jolting, activities." Unspoken: you choose. Therefore, I have chosen...

Writing:

Writing, I can do this! Yippee! So, I've resumed this less dangerous activity. I laugh at the above video. It's so silly! But I've taken extreme joy in everything I can do. I celebrate it! It has kept me out of many dark moments of depression.

Secrets at Midnight

Leona Palmer Haag

Chapter 6

Matt studied the kid huddled on the sofa—the girl he’d helped raise since she’d stuck her thumb in her mouth and blinked open her big eyes. She didn’t deserve going through something like this. He’d carried her on his shoulders since the day she learned to sit up and yank on his ears, so somehow he’d find a way to shoulder her again. He’d fixed more things in the Washington home than he could remember, but nothing this difficult. He shifted his weight and she looked up, her breath tinged with terror. “You going to be okay if I check out the back bedrooms and the rest of your home?” he asked.

She remained silent, chewing on her bottom lip.

“I’ll be quick.” He started off, opening the front closet and shifting aside jackets. Jenn didn’t complain so he moved to the hall and glanced into the kitchen. “You left a mess on the floor,” he called over his shoulder.

“Do you believe me now?” she shot back.

He turned away and headed down the hall to check the bedrooms. Katie’s looked undisturbed except the blankets had been stripped from the crib and were now a mountain in Jenn’s lap. Nothing else looked touched.

Jenn’s bedroom lamps were on, along with the overhead fixture. Each fluffy pillow rested at a perfect angle on the bed. No sign of anything unusual.

The bathroom was well lit and vacant. The towels hung perfectly. There was no hint of intrusion. He returned to report. “This level looks clean.”

“I vacuum every other day,” she mumbled.

That was Jenn—so impeccably tidy that searching would be easy. He reminded himself to see things differently, catch even a nuance of change, act as if he’d never stepped inside the little clapboard structure before and couldn’t possibly walk blindfolded from one corner to the next. He prodded himself to trip over anything unusual.

He left her and entered the kitchen, stepping over the baked bean splatter, dry now and obviously not blood. The consistency and color were off, but an untrained eye might not catch it—or someone sitting across a dim room and noticing it smeared on a toe. He vowed to not make that stupid mistake again.

The stairwell light glared and the basement was ablaze with light. He strode to the center of the cement vault and scanned bare walls, turning in a slow circle. Nothing but shelving packed with neat rows of labeled boxes. Only an empty shadow lurked near the furnace. Just one of Katie’s outfits waited in a basket below the laundry shoot beside the washing machine. Storage boxes occupied space under the stairs—nothing more. Nothing indicated an intruder had ventured inside.

Matt flipped off lights and headed upstairs. A million questions filled his mind. All would freak Jenn. He settled into the chair opposite her and studied the petite features of the woman intently watching him. “Your house is clean.”

She rolled her eyes. “I know. Without Nick around it’s easy keeping up.”

He chuckled and leaned back. That wasn't what he meant, but she didn't know it. Innocence really was bliss. He watched Jenn shift Katie's weight and rearrange her legs. “Rough night?”

She perked up slightly. “That's an understatement, but what about Monica?”

He pulled out his cell phone. “I'll try her again. She's probably wondering if I got called into the office.” A moment later he left a message on his home answering machine. He flipped the phone shut and set it on his knee.

“She's not there?”

“Possibly in the shower.” Lies or truth—he had no way of knowing. He was in a tight spot, needed in two places at once, and unable to leave one for the other. But Monica could take care of herself. Jenn couldn't.

Jenn yawned. “Go home. You can't stay here all night to babysit me. I'll be fine. Police are....”

She picked fuzz off Katie’s blanket, probably trying to conceal she was scared half out of her mind. He leaned his head back. “I’m fine.” The sleep deprivation threatening to overcome him hours before had evaporated. “Care if I call a friend?” he casually asked. “He used to be in law enforcement.” He fingered his cell phone, waiting for permission—usually a key element in keeping Jenn happy.

She shrugged in resignation. “What harm will it do?”

Scrolling down his phone list, Matt hit a number. He placed the phone at his ear as he studied the kid with a kid in her arms. “Another pair of eyes might be nice.”

She looked away, but her eyes snapped back when his voice broke the silence. “Hey, buddy, Matt Jensen here. I need a favor. I’ve got a friend—Nicholas Washington—his wife stepped on a wrist tonight—a body—in her yard. I'm there now. The cops came and left. Do you want to look around with me?” He moved the phone from his mouth and said to Jenn, “I take it the body isn’t still there?”

She trembled and shook her head. “The cops didn’t say so, but I’m sure they think there never was one.”

“It's gone,” Matt said into the phone. He studied Jenn as she lowered her eyes to her baby. He slowly rose to his feet. “Kevin, can you hold for a moment?”

Jenn looked up in terror. He could almost hear her heart pounding. “It’s okay, kid,” he said, trying to sound soothing and reassuring. “I'm going out to the trash can for a minute. Will you be okay that long?”

She visibly gulped, looking terrified and vulnerable. “No.”

He hated pressuring her, but didn’t back down. “Give me two minutes. I'll lock the door on my way out. I'll come back to the front door.” He knelt before her and took a trembling hand. “I'll give our secret knock. You remember it, don’t you?”

She nodded.

“Good. Look out the window, and if you see me, let me in.”

She didn’t respond for so long he wondered if she’d heard him. Finally her pale lips whispered, “Will you hurry?”

He squeezed her hand. “Two minutes tops. I promise.”

She slowly nodded and released him.

He rose. Speaking quickly into the phone he gave Jenn’s address, repeating it while she intently watched. He repeated it once more purely to reassure her help was on its way. His friend cussed, nearly blasting out his eardrum in a verbal response, reminding him he already had it.

Heading through the kitchen to the back door, Matt stepped over smeared footprints. A soggy rag waited in the middle of the mess, witnessing Jenn had been herself before peace shattered. He worked with the door handle until it finally unlocked. He flipped the light switch, but the back step remained dark. The bulb was missing—unscrewed, not broken out. He chose his words carefully to avoid alarming the terrified kid. “The light’s not working,” he called across the house.

“I accidentally broke the bulb,” she called back.

 He took a deep breath. At least one thing was okay. “I'm locking the door behind me,” he called. He heard what sounded like a muffled, “’K.”

Matt pulled the door shut and tried the lock. It held secure. He switched on his key chain light and caught the glitter of tiny glass shards, but the beam wasn't strong enough to reach the gate. He quietly spoke into his phone. “You still with me, Curtis?”

“I'm on my way. What's going down?”

“Mrs. Washington took out the trash and stepped on a woman's wrist. She swears it's not Monica. Call Marshall and tell him my wife’s missing, and someone else was found. We need Washington home tomorrow. I need Monica found tonight. We need Jenn safe.”

“Will do. Should I bring a friend? Adams is available. He’s had three days off and should be heading back to the office for graveyard. I’ll have him rerouted. Things have been quiet so he’ll enjoy the diversion. Or there’s Mueller or Erickson. They’ve been sitting at the computer too long and might like snooping.”

Matt weighed the option of extra eyes. Usually they helped. “No,” he decided. “Save the faces. Jenn’s good with details. She’d remember them. We might anonymously need them later. I’ll call Washington.”

Matt ended the call and pushed number four on his cell phone. A groggy voice answered. He quietly said, “Mosquitoes began buzzing. Someone’s been stung.” A shiver ran up his spine as the coded message spilled out.

“West Nile Virus?” Washington asked through static.

“Unconfirmed, but it has reached our turf.”

“How close?”

“Maybe my own residence. Waiting for verification.”

“Other locations?”

Matt felt sick to his stomach, a sensation he rarely experienced. “I'm checking your place. Everyone is safe. I’ll keep you posted. Take care.” He closed his cell phone and peered at the empty yard. A swing set silhouetted one corner and a wading pool shimmered beneath stars. He walked to the gate and shoved it open with his shoulder. The hinges soundlessly gave way—thanks to his oil can and a new hinge he’d recently installed. The trashcan sat in shadows, surrounded by shrubs. He thought he’d seen every inch of the Washington property before, but at this angle and in the dark, the area was secluded—much too dark. Jenn needed a motion activated security light. He’d install one.

Trash lay scattered around his feet, but not as badly as he’d expected. He moved his tiny beam from piece to piece. The scene was very un-Jenn-like. He walked to the driveway and stared up and down the street. Nothing stirred. The neighborhood slept—except one house. He wondered if Monica’s car had pulled into his own driveway a few miles away, and hoped this was as dark as life would get. Finally he walked to the front porch and gave a series of raps on the door. The curtain fluttered and anxious eyes peeked out. The bolt released and the door swung open, allowing him and all the darkness he knew inside. He wiped his feet first as if that might help.

Jenn settled down with Katie and he sat on the edge of a chair, leaning back with his legs stretched out. He closed his eyes and visualized what he’d seen beside the garage. “You're tired. Go home and go to bed,” Jenn said. He didn’t bother opening his eyes to see if she saw him shake his head.

“Check on Monica.”

He lied. “I did. Everything’s fine.” He wished he'd told her the truth, but he couldn’t. He finally forced his eyes open and found her watching him. He pulled his feet under him and straightened up. “Can I get you anything? A drink or something?” He stood and moved toward the hallway.

She shook her head, then helplessly shrugged. “Maybe innocence.”

“A pillow since you don't seem inclined to go to bed?”

She refused.

He ignored her and walked to the back of the house and pulled one from her bed and returned. “Lie down and close your eyes.” He placed the pillow beside her before taking Katie from her arms. Once Jenn had curled up he handed the baby back and covered them with the mound of blankets. He sat down and studied the mother and daughter. He'd have a daughter of his own had she lived. He shook the memory away—the already bleak night didn't need help from past tragedies. Although glassy, Jenn's eyes remained open so he asked, “What don't I know that might help Curtis?”

Her eyes momentarily focused before blurring again. “You called him Kevin.”

“Kevin Curtis.”

“Oh. White. Caucasian.”

Matt remained silent. Waiting. Jenn could be pushed, but if the timing wasn't right she'd revolt. He remembered a few times she'd literally thrown him off the front steps of her mother's trailer home. The girl was shorter and lighter than him, but tougher than nails. Growing up across the street from each other in a ratty trailer park that swayed in the wind and collected the lowest creatures known to mankind had taught her how to stand up when needed. She had survived, along with Shawn, and he had too, along with most of his brothers and sisters. But Jenn—just barely.

Without asking, Jenn began filling in blanks, but not important ones. “I screamed and ran inside the house, scared someone would grab me. I slammed the door shut and the stupid lock stuck. It felt like forever before I got it to work.”

“I’ll fix it tomorrow.” He glanced at his watch. “Or make that later today.”

“Thanks. See—I don’t call you about everything.”

He smiled, hoping he hadn't sidetracked her. “What happened next?”

She shifted slightly. “I grabbed Katie and ran through the house turning on lights and checking locks. I terrified Katie—running like crazy—but I couldn’t leave her in her crib.”

Matt wanted to ask what she'd heard or seen, but didn't interrupt the flood of words.

“We raced to my bedroom and locked the door, but my cell phone was in the kitchen. I didn't dare leave the bedroom, and couldn’t imagine taking Katie with me, but couldn't stay there. I finally settled Katie down and we hid in the back of my closet. When she fell asleep I left her and raced to the kitchen. I thought I'd be killed before I got there, and stabbed in the back before I returned, but nothing happened. Probably no one was in the house. I hid in the closet with Katie and called 9-1-1.”

“You did the right thing. You've got a lot of guts,” he quietly said.

“If I'd been alone I probably would have stayed in the closet and never come out, never called the police, and died of fright after crawling inside a shoe.”

He tried to chuckle. The Jenn he knew best was still inside the frightened shell of a woman curled up on the sofa. “Did you hear anything?”

“My own breathing, which I considered stopping, except what good would a dead mom do Katie?”

“Yeah, not a good choice.” He wanted to ask again. Had she heard a noise outside—a scuffle or muted voices? How much time passed between stepping on a wrist and calling the police? He glanced at Jenn. Her eyes were shut so he remained silent. “Kevin's here,” he quietly said a few minutes later.

Jenn's eyes flew open and darted around the room.

He stood. “Don’t get up. I'll lock the door behind me when I go out to show him….”

She bolted upright. “Are you leaving me?”

He squatted before her and took her hand in his and rubbed the back of her knuckles. “Think about it—have I ever left you?”

She shook her head and squeezed his hand. “No. Hurry back.”

He thought he’d need to pry her fingers off, but as he rose she released him. “Where's your house key? I'll let myself in so you won’t have to get up.”

“In my purse on the floor of my closet.”

Matt felt like a caged tiger begging for release as he left the room with Jenn’s eyes boring through him. When he returned he held up the keys. “We’ll look around. Maybe we'll spot something the police missed. I’ll come back and report.”

“Why did you quit being a cop if you like snooping so much? Afraid you'd scuff your pretty shoes?” She weakly smiled at him.

He chuckled. “You've got me pegged, kid.” He turned and left the house, carefully locking Nick's wife and their baby inside. Alone, he frowned. There was nothing to smile about, but nothing bad would happen to them during his watch.

End Chapter 6

Thanks for dropping in to listen to my story (read it). I hope you're enjoying it. If this has been your first visit, go back and read the previous chapters or I promise you will be utterly lost, if not so already. Leave a brief comment if you'd like...

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