Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
________________
ANSON
Rae Lee plays with my St Rita medal, pressing it to my lips. “Kiss it for good luck.”
The sun has just risen. Light filters through the seams between the windowsills and the shades. We’re lying on our sides, talking quietly and lounging in her bed.
My lips push against the medal until she drops it, and then I kiss Rae Lee’s nose. I haven’t told her that I need all the luck I can get today. It feels like she already knows.
“I have to go soon.” I run a finger over the swell of her breast.
I don’t promise to call. I will. Or say that we’ll see one another again later this week. That’ll happen too. Except we’ve invested a lot of energy into finding Pearl Tatton and work has to come first.
Rae Lee nods, pressing her lips to my stubbled chin.
Eventually, I’ll make a dumb guy move. We’ll exchange words. Maybe she’ll forgive me for whatever it is that I do. Maybe she won’t. Maybe I’ll be a pigheaded bastard and Rae Lee will dig her heels in and whatever we’re starting will fall the fuck apart.
But right now, Rae Lee innately understands that what I need most is her patience.
I wish I could tell her how important today is to the case. Instead, I tuck a wayward lock of blonde hair behind her ear and tell her how beautiful she is. I’m graced with a soft thank you and a blush.
It was the blush I’d been going for. I found out that Rae Lee’s light complexion makes her skin heat and she pinkens all over. Every possible way to make her blush is something I plan to thoroughly investigate next time we’re together. Preferably naked.
I get out of bed in search of my clothes. Rae Lee gets up too, boiling water and pouring us steamy cups of tea. I bob the tea infuser in and out of my cup, making the water darker and sip, grateful it’s not decaf. I’ll pick up an Americano and a cinnamon bun—scratch that, I want two chocolate croissants—at Baked Beans in transit to the park.
This morning has the propensity to go south for someone. Even if a fraction of the pieces come together, it’ll be a long one, that’s for sure.
Dressed, I slip my phone in my pocket and pat myself down for my keys. “I swear for the amount of tedious things I lose, it has gotta be paranormal,” I joke.
“No. She doesn’t move anything,” Rae Lee says with a straight face over her porcelain teacup.
“Who?” I can’t tell if she’s joking.
“No one.” Her eyes dart away as if her wall of craft supplies owns her interest, though she’s been gawking at my ass while I got dressed.
No offense taken. I’d watched her slip a silk robe over her body. My fingers are itching to take it off of her before she showers.
“Is there a…” Ghost? At my place? Following me around?
“I didn’t say that,” she balks.
She didn’t not say that either. I sit on the edge of the bed with my shoulders slumped. “Tell me the truth.”
“You were there when she died. She’s given me the impression you’re unhappy and it makes her sad.”
Angeline. Her divorce was finalized. She and Grant had moved in with Angeline’s mother. She’d finally trusted me with everything that had gone wrong in her marriage. All of the mistakes she felt like she’d made. All of the domestic abuse cases she investigated, giving advice to the survivors that made her feel like a hypocrite. She feared something as simple as seeing a business card would set her ex-husband off, and she memorized the hotline numbers in case one day she needed to call.
The closer we got, the more she shared how guilty she felt pretending she wasn’t a victim. And the remorse she had the day things went past the point of no return and Grant’s father intentionally struck their child to make her bend to his will.
We stopped hiding that our friendship changed into a relationship. We were going to see where things led. She’d found stability. I was ready, willing, and able to step up and be the one to leave Brighton P.D. so that Angeline didn’t find herself having to start over again, this time in her career.
“He shot her. Point blank. In the street.” I shake my head, reliving the unfairness of it all in slow motion.
Along with several units, we’d responded to an emergency. Unbeknownst to anyone, Angeline’s ex had tailed us. She got out of the car and so did he. Then he took aim three times, focusing on where ballistic vests don’t cover, intending to do the most damage. Tale as old as time, it didn’t matter what the courts said, her abuser had no intention of letting go. I can still feel Angeline’s blood pouring through my fingers as I tried to put pressure on her neck wound.
“It wasn’t your fault.” Rae Lee touches my arm.
My vision blurs. I blink the misty eye away. “What Angeline went through wasn’t hers either. She didn’t deserve to die… Neither did Pearl.”
I’m a good man. A good cop. But the thoughts about what I’d do to the guy if only creep in. Adrenaline amps me up. It makes my skull pound.
I rest my head in my hands. Rae Lee’s body encircles mine. Talking about how amazing Angeline was is one thing. However, discussing her death slices at old wounds. Rae Lee holds me, whispering things I’ve wondered about. Repeating advice and words of forgiveness I’ve given to others that I’ve needed to heed myself. I haven’t felt connected to anyone since Angeline. Not that I’ve gone out of my way to do anything about that. Perhaps that’s what Angeline is trying to do for me; making me get my head out of my ass. I don’t know any reason why Rae Lee and I would’ve crossed paths otherwise.
I turn and catch Rae Lee’s lips. “Thank you for giving me closure.”
Grief is funny. It sneaks around the corner when you least expect it. Though, I have a sense of peace I haven’t felt in quite a while. Relief from the angst and ambiguity surrounding her daughter’s disappearance is exactly the feeling I intend to get for Pearl Tatton’s mother.
A short while later, Rae Lee walks me down the stairs. I skim my fingers over the sleeves of her soft robe and we say goodbye. I get home with enough time to shower and don fresh clothes and am fortunate enough that the line at Baked Beans moves fast.
Pulling into the park’s parking lot, I pass Chaim. He’s talking to the Parks and Rec Administrator. They’re standing outside of an eight-foot fence draped with a standard blue canvas tarp for privacy that surrounds the well and extends out to include several feet of the walkway into the park.
When I reach them to say hello, Chaim’s got his hands in his pockets, completely nonchalant. Friendly when shaking my hand, the administrator’s return to a folded position across his chest. Considering that the crew has to dig slowly—and that we haven’t been upfront with him about what evidence we used to petition the court for the search warrant—I don’t blame the guy for wanting to be here.
It feels like a cliché to stand around drinking coffee and eating pastry while waiting for the backhoe operator to start the engine. But cops have got to eat sometime. If any evidence turns up, Chaim and I have no idea when our next meal might be.
“Tried that new beer at Mark-39,” I say around a mouthful of sweet.
Chaim swallows a swig of coffee. “Figures. I’ll take the wife this week.”
“Rain check, remember. Choose a night and dinner’s on me.” I’ll ask Rae Lee to come too.
The rest of the town maintenance crew arrives. They start with jackhammers, efficiently demolishing the well. Chunks of debris fall, clattering and breaking into smaller pieces.
It’s loud without ear coverings. I’m glad for the noise. The morning runners were having trouble getting past the fence. The decibel level along with the trucks and dumpster parked along the road will keep people away.
“Want to look at any of the debris before we move it?” The park administrator asks over the whiny beep-beep-beep .
The crew prepares to use a small loader to move the rubble into the dumpster.
“Anything unusual?” I squint, leaning in. Based on how the maintenance crew is treating our mere presence, they would’ve alerted Chaim or me if they uncovered something strange. We’re more concerned about what’s under the surface than above, anyhow.
“Negative. Is that good news or bad?”
“Depends who’s asking.” Chaim chuckles, receiving a weak smile from the administrator.
The detritus removed, the park crew gets back to work. They pull up the sidewalk where they began the day’s work. It’s the opposite of where I want them to dig. The morning passes agonizingly slow. The sun is high in the sky and the humidity is creeping up. The tree canopy provides decent shelter. It’s as if we’ve had nothing better to do than scroll our phones for hours. Chaim is as bored as I am and takes our trash to a bin. My cell dings with an incoming email as he moseys back into the walled areas. I pocket it instead of reading.
“What took you so long?” He’s gone as long as the longest construction crew member’s break was.
“Restroom by the parking lot.” His grunt is as good an offer as any for me to take a break.
I get back as the cement cracks in half on the first of two square pavers we’re interested in. The ones whose sides Morris painted fluorescent orange that make the vee. The second one crumbles, and the crew moves the chunks. And then they stand there looking between the compact sand and Chaim and me.
“Christ.” I roll up my sleeves and grab a shovel.
“How far down are you digging?” one crew member asks.
“Not a clue.” I grit my teeth, stabbing the tip into the ground.
“We can pull up a layer at a time. A few inches?”
“That’d be great.” I throw the shovel to the side, frustrated when I shouldn’t be.
It doesn’t change my mind about wanting to date Rae Lee, but this could be where things go awry. When she finds out we followed her leads, it can’t be to a dead end. The problem is it’s not even about my pride. Or perhaps it is. Is it selfish to want to uncover proof of Rae Lee’s gift so I can tell her how proud I am of her?
Except, I also want it for Susan Turner, who’s waited over a decade for answers. And most of all I want it for Pearl.
The loader skims a fraction of the sand away. I snap on gloves and rummage through the bucket. It’s mostly gnarls with an occasional stick. Morris mentioned the ground shifts when it rains, so I chalk it up to that. Chaim inspects the remaining ground. And we start over until hitting a layer of dirt. That’s when we notice it’s mixed with the sand and uneven. It resembles a rock outcrop on the highway that has fallen over on its side.
The crew stays on the grass watching us. I use the shovel to loosen what I can. Sure enough, the largest bump has an unusual u-shaped indent and bulge where the vee was. Chaim and I agree to have additional layers skimmed. We sift through that too. Nothing. All this effort is proving pointless.
We’re standing in the hole deciding what comes next. The administrator tells us that the city wouldn’t have excavated for a sidewalk any lower that what’s been dug.
I rub my tight neck, attempting to loosen the tension in my shoulders. I happen to look down as the park administrator shifts his weight. I see something move under his shoe.
“Move! Move!” I yell, crouching down to lift up a blue plastic corner.
Another tarp.
It yields a worn grommet and woven side, roughened by the elements. Before processing what I’m doing, I claw at the dirt. Dirt and wrinkled, weathered tarp lift away.
And then I stop.
“What do you have?” Chaim’s shadow falls over me.
“Partial skull. And molars.” Lower mandible is my best guess based on years of training. “I think we found her.”