Chapter 30
Tessa
“I don’t see why I have to come.”
I glance at Remi, sitting in the passenger seat and stubbornly staring out the window.
“Listen, kiddo. As I told you at home, I think it’s important you pay your respects to a boy who wasn’t as fortunate as you were and paid for his mistakes with his life. Consider it penance, and count yourself lucky attending his celebration of life is the extent of consequences for you.”
When he persists in glaring out the window, I add in a softer tone, “And Remi—hand to heart—I hope this cures you from ever, ever making stupid choices like that again, because I don’t think I could survive if anything ever happened to you.”
He reacts to that last comment with a brief flash of his eyes in my direction. The mumbled, “Sorry,” is barely audible.
The rest of the drive to Mead is silent, each of us left to our own thoughts.
Mine drift to the conversation I had with Clem this morning before he left for the firehouse.
He’d offered again to accompany us, as he’d done last night, when I first brought up the celebration of life, but as much as I appreciate the support he’s offering, I felt it important Remi and I do this together.
I’m hoping the shared experience may heal some of the strain on our relationship, rebuild the trust.
From what I understand, his body was cremated quietly a few weeks ago.
Ryan’s mother had wanted to wait with a service for him until charges were brought against her son’s killer.
That happened last week, when one of the other kids involved in the car theft ring supplied the final nail in Doyle Benjamin’s coffin.
The boy confessed Ryan told him, the night he stole the Mustang, he didn’t want to do it and was thinking of going to the police. This kid struggled with the information for a while but ultimately notified Doyle Benjamin that Ryan was about to spill the beans on his organization.
That testimony, along with Remi’s and Everett Shirk’s should be enough to prove Benjamin’s guilt in at least Ryan’s murder.
It’s been weird for me, being sidelined on a case of this magnitude, but in hindsight I’m glad I was spared the aftermath: the parent notifications, the interviews with those poor misguided kids, torn between being victims and being perpetrators.
It would’ve taken a toll on me, and I need to focus on my own child, which I’m doing by confronting him with the brutal reality of what could’ve easily happened to our family.
Is it a harsh lesson? You bet it is.
Am I afraid I’ll further traumatize him?
The answer is yes to that as well, but I will do whatever it takes to make absolutely sure Remi owns his part in this case, and understands his own responsibility.
I don’t want to allow him to make excuses for what he did, he needs to feel it in his bones, so he’ll never fall into that trap again.
I spot Steve Haynes from the Spokane County Sheriff’s Department the moment we walk in to the Mead Community Center.
He’s standing close to the stage at the front, next to a short, dark-haired woman I immediately recognize as Pam Wells, Ryan’s mother, even though I’ve never met her. Her boy looked just like her.
My heart contracts in my chest, and I struggle to keep my emotions in check.
Holding Remi by his arm, I move him toward a couple of empty chairs.
Once seated, I scan the space, noting the large posters with the image of Ryan still very much alive.
Ryan as a little boy, one on horseback, one wearing his uniform, several with friends, and one with his mother, which is where my eyes linger and fill with tears.
In the picture he’s already a head taller than she is, the smiles on both their faces reflective of happier times. I wonder if there will come a time that those are the kinds of moments Pam will remember first, rather than the darker, final phase of her son’s life.
“Mom…”
I turn to find Remi’s eyes on me, concern all over his face.
“I’m fine, honey. I’m just fine,” I assure him, blinking away the tears as I swallow hard.
The service is heart-wrenching and wonderful at the same time. His football coach, an aunt, a friend, and finally, his mother all speak of him, their words drawing a picture of the boy he was. They talk about the things he loved, his hobbies, favorite foods, pet peeves, funny anecdotes.
There is laughing and crying, but by the time the service is over, and people start filing past the pictures and Ryan’s mother to pay their respects, I feel I’ve gotten to know the boy I first saw lying at the bottom of a cliff, his red ball cap just a few feet from him.
I sneak a peek at Remi, who has grown paler and paler over the course of the past forty minutes.
“Are you okay?” I whisper, as we inch our way toward the front and Pam Wells.
“Yeah.”
“Are you sure? We can go now if you want.”
He shakes his head sharply. “No.”
“Okay.”
When we finally stand in front of Ryan’s mother, I acknowledge Steve, who stands a few steps behind her, with a nod. But when I turn my attention to Pam, Remi beats me to it.
“I’m sorry,” he starts. “I’m sorry for your son. I was there…I mean, I saw him, recognized him. In the car. Maybe if I’d gotten into that car with him he’d—”
The rest of what he’d intended to say gets swallowed up by a sob that breaks free. Instantly, the woman standing in front of him opens her arms, wrapping them around my boy.
“No,” she says firmly. “You put those thoughts right out of your head. Only one man carries responsibility for what happened to Ryan, and I’m so, so grateful to you for helping the police catch him. You did the right thing. Promise me you’ll keep doing the right thing.”
“I will. I promise,” Remi assures her, lifting his head.
“Good.”
Then she lets him go and turns to me.
“And I have you to thank for finding my Ryan and making sure he could come home to me.” She shoots a little smile over her shoulder at the officer behind her. “Steve told me who you were when you came in.”
Already a mess after my kid broke down, and in absolute awe of this woman’s strength, I’m afraid to open my mouth to say the words I’d been rehearsing in my head.
All I manage is, “I am so deeply sorry,” as I grab her hand, but she pulls me in for a hug as well.
Remi and I don’t talk as we make our way back to my vehicle. I’m trying to wipe some tears from under my eyes and notice Remi rubbing his face on his shoulder.
“Do you want to grab a bite somewhere before we head back?” I ask him when we get in the Jeep.
“I was gonna ask if you could drop me off at the firehouse, I wanna work on the truck.”
I glance over at him, at the tear-stained face over those nice, clean clothes he’s wearing.
“Yes, of course,” I tell him.
Clothes can be washed, but I suspect my boy needs a dose of Clem right now.
Clem
“That’s my normal towing rate.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose, trying to hang on to my patience as I deal with another unhappy customer. Never mind that he’s the one who blew through a stop sign without stopping and T-boned another vehicle, injuring the driver.
I’d been called to tow his truck and store it until his insurance company could come have a look at it. I already didn’t charge him for the days of storage, but I sure as hell am not going to let him off without paying me for the tow.
“You only charge that much because you’re the only tow truck in town,” he accuses me.
The truth is, I charge less than the going rate in Spokane, even if I have to drive halfway across the county, like I did for his F-150.
Never mind that he’s the one who called me in the first place, because he’s a Silence native and it was more convenient to have his car close by.
Or that I prioritized the repairs on his damn truck to get it driving, once the insurance adjuster had a look at it.
But it’ll be a moot point to mention any of that to him, because he’s one of those guys who will always try to bully his way into a discount.
Unfortunately for him, I’m not going to budge.
“Credit card is fine,” I tell him with a tight smile. “Once we get the bill settled, I’ll grab the keys and you can get out of here.”
After shooting me a dirty look, he pulls his wallet out of his pocket, plucks out a credit card, and slaps it aggressively on top of his invoice on my desk.
A last attempt at intimidation, which falls flat, as I calmly pick up the credit card, and process his payment.
Once that is cleared, I hand him his keys and the credit card back, which the asshole snatches out of my hand.
The moment he leaves my office I fold my hands behind my head, close my eyes, and lean my chair back.
That’s how Tessa finds me a short while later.
“Hey…” I shoot up in my chair when she walks in. “What are you doing here?”
“Dropping Remi off. I think he needs some man-time. Hope that’s okay?”
She sits down heavily in the visitor chair on the other side of the desk.
“Of course that’s okay. Where is he?”
I get up, cross the room, and poke my head out, spotting the boy at the far end of the shop, already sitting on the overturned bucket fishing small engine parts out of the cleaning solution they’ve been soaking in.
Then I turn back and rest my ass on the desk, right across from Tessa.
“How was it?”
She shakes her head. “Hard. But it also feels a bit like closure. But it was tough on Remi. He lost it in front of the boy’s mother.
He’s been blaming himself for what happened to Ryan, I had no idea.
She was great with him though, boosted him up, but other than he wanted to come here, he didn’t say a word on the drive. ”
I’m honestly not surprised the kid felt survivor’s guilt over what happened.
At first sight Remi may come across as just another teenage punk, but since I first clapped eyes on him, I’ve gotten to see more of his true personality, his character underneath the teenage rebel veneer.
Aside from having a bit of a short fuse, a chip on his shoulder the size of a boulder, and poor communication skills, this kid is perceptive, smart, driven, and feels things deeply.
“I’ll keep an eye on him. Maybe, if he brings up this morning, I can see if he wants to talk about it.”
“How is it you are able to make my heart feel so much lighter? Any time I carry a weight on my shoulders, you take on some of it without asking. Do you know what a gift that is for me? What a gift you are? To me, to the boys.”
My chest tightens almost painfully as her words settle in my heart. Unable to come up with any kind of coherent response, I reach for her hand, pull her out of her seat, and into my arms.
I’m the one who should be grateful for being accepted into the family I didn’t think I’d ever have. Not anymore, not at my age. I figured that ship had sailed, until Tessa.
“The gift is you, Ilusake,” I whisper in her hair.