Chapter 16 Jake
One month gone.
This was not a milestone Jake had ever expected to mark.
He opened his laptop, which he’d only gotten back from the cops a few days ago, on the desk in Liv’s little office.
It comforted him, sitting in this room, even if her Ikea office chair was a bit small for his lanky frame.
Here he could be surrounded by her swatches, tile samples, and interior renderings pinned to a corkboard.
He could see her creative mind at work. It brought him closer to her.
Liv often seemed close to him. As if she were right there, just out of reach. Behind an invisible curtain, perhaps.
He typed an email to his boss.
Hey David, hope you and Andi are good.
I wanted to check in with you, as it’s been a month. I know Steve has been covering my caseload and I’m very grateful, but guessing that’s not sustainable for much longer. Maybe we should grab a coffee to talk about me coming back, but maybe working from home some of the time?
I’m free tomorrow or whenever works for you.
Cheers,
Jake
He hit send and flicked to another browser tab to check on today’s media.
No new stories about Liv, but a host of new comments on the most recent flurry of reports about the searches at his and Kirk’s homes.
He skipped past them. He knew better by now than to go down that rabbit hole of assumptions and incriminations.
Jake turned back to his email inbox, as if willing it to produce new messages.
He hadn’t heard from Kirk since he reached out to him three days ago.
It had turned out Kirk was a friend of Bill Waterton, a buddy of Jake’s father, whom Jake had met a few times.
Bill had called Jake’s father to mention the connection, as Bill had been in a running group with Kirk for years.
“The group you were thinking about joining a while back?” Jake’s mom asked when Ted Johnson brought the topic up with Jake over dinner.
“That’s the one,” Ted had replied. “Only I decided against it, as I was playing so much golf with Burt Grainger. Figured that was enough exercise.” He patted his growing belly and laughed. “Maybe should’ve joined, huh?”
Jake had gotten Kirk’s email address from Bill, in the hope of both sharing the trauma of being investigated and apologizing for dragging him into all this.
The poor guy just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time, and now his home and devices were being searched, and he was probably suffering accusations, too.
Nowhere near as many as Jake was getting, but still.
However, Kirk hadn’t replied to the email. He might be mad at Jake for getting him involved. He might think it wasn’t a good idea for them to talk ahead of what could end up as a criminal case.
Or, Kirk might not have replied because he was guilty.
He might’ve come across Liv in the woods, murdered her, dragged her into his car, and disposed of her body.
Or Liv might be tied up in Kirk’s basement right now.
No, not his basement — his house had been searched.
Some secret location, then, where she was being kept alive but slowly tortured for Kirk’s amusement.
That would be a good reason not to reply to Jake’s email.
As if mocking him, Jake’s inbox popped up a new message. He huffed a mirthless laugh at himself. That could be Kirk now, apologizing for not getting back sooner, checking Jake was okay.
But it was David.
Hey Jake, great to hear from you.
It’s so good to read you’re beginning to feel up to coming back to work. That tells me you’re feeling less overwhelmed with the situation, which is great news.
However, I think it’s not a good idea from our standpoint to have you working on the cases right now, given everything that’s happening.
This is a tough pill to swallow, as I hope you know that you have all our support, but we have to consider the optics of the situation.
You’re currently a very public face, and any Google search of your name is pulling up a whole bunch of stories and suggestions that we at RAI believe aren’t true, but our clients don’t know that.
As you will understand, when our clients are in such a vulnerable position, especially the women and families fleeing persecution, it doesn’t look good to assign counsel whose name is even remotely linked to allegations of a possible domestic crime.
It sucks, it’s totally unfair, but that’s the way it is right now. Hopefully that changes very soon.
I hope you understand that we’ll need to continue your leave — which will remain fully paid, with all benefits in place — until this situation is resolved one way or the other.
Don’t worry about Steve and the caseload, we’ve got a few new summer interns doing the grunt work, so he’s managing okay, and we’ve promoted Frannie.
You focus on taking care of yourself, your family, and the Graingers, and please know our hearts are with you all in this terrible time.
I’d be happy to go for coffee sometime later in the week to talk further if you’d like to do that.
Sorry, and take care,
David
Shit.
Those bastards in the press, and all those basement-dwelling, underachieving social media commenters, were now costing him his job. A job he loved.
What was he going to do now? What if Liv never showed up? David wouldn’t put him on fully paid leave forever.
And what the hell had David meant by “until the situation is resolved one way or the other”?
Did David believe there could be a version of resolution that involved Jake’s guilt?
Surely his friend could expect only one possible resolution — Jake’s name being cleared of all suspicion. Whether or not Liv was found.
Jake slammed his laptop shut. He couldn’t respond to that right now.
Anyways, it was nearly 2 p.m. and Detective Banks was stopping by.
With more questions, no doubt. Or maybe the police had news.
Maybe they’d found something at Kirk’s place.
Detective Banks had confirmed the results of their searches on Jake’s home, car, and devices hadn’t shown anything, but he hadn’t shared the outcome of Kirk’s search.
Jake tidied the living space, clearing away three empty pizza boxes and a couple of beer cans. He was no good at keeping things tidy without Liv around. What was the point? Unless he had visitors, nobody would see it.
He loaded the dishwasher, imagining himself in the future, sitting on the couch.
A gray, middle-aged man, thick around the middle like his father, unemployed, spending his days watching Breaking Bad reruns and drinking IPA from the can, surrounded by trash.
A male, twenty-first-century Miss Havisham, in his case still mourning his lost bride.
Yeah, he probably needed to nip that one in the bud.
A knock on the door heralded Detective Banks and Officer Phelps on the doorstep. No team behind them this time, thankfully.
“Come in.” Jake stepped back, hand outstretched and the two men walked by. “Take a seat. Can I get you guys anything to drink?”
“No thanks, we’re good,” Detective Banks replied, as Officer Phelps opened his mouth to respond. The young trainee closed his mouth again, evidently thinking better of contradicting his boss.
They sat in the armchairs, Jake taking his usual spot on the couch.
The corner where Liv could put her feet on his lap while they watched a movie, his big thumb pads rubbing her soft soles, soothing those high arches.
Jake’s lap was too light without the weight of her legs — he was unanchored.
He might float right up into the little vault of the ceiling they’d uncovered.
“What can I do for you guys?” he asked. “You said you had questions.”
Detective Banks gave Jake his usual sympathetic half-smile, which Jake had figured out was a well-practiced expression for victims’ families. Or maybe for suspects the police detective wanted to keep on side. Perhaps both.
“Just a few clarifications,” Detective Banks corrected. “I understand you’ve recently been in contact with Kirk Evans?”
“Uh, yeah. That is, after I got my devices back, I sent him an email to see if he was okay after, you know, all the searches. And to apologize for all of this. I feel bad, dragging a bystander into this mess. Assuming he is just a bystander.” He raised an eyebrow, continuing after the policeman said nothing. “Anyways, he didn’t reply.”
Detective Banks pulled the sides of his mouth down. “And how did you get his email address? You previously said you didn’t know Mr. Evans.”
Was this starting to look bad?
“I didn’t — I don’t know him. A friend of my dad’s, Bill Waterton, contacted Dad when he read about Liv.
Turns out Bill is buddies with Kir — Mr. Evans.
They’re in a running club together. I’d been meaning to try to contact Mr. Evans, so I asked Bill for his email address.
” Jake paused. “How did you know I emailed him? It was after the forensic search.”
On the armchair near the window, Officer Phelps was scratching away at his notepad at a rapid pace.
Detective Banks furrowed his brow. “Mr. Evans called me after receiving your email, to ask for advice as to whether he should be in contact with you. We recommended to him not to respond, considering this is an ongoing investigation. It’s better if the two key .
. . parties in an investigation aren’t in contact with each other.
You’re a lawyer, Mr. Johnson, I’m sure you can understand that. ”
Jake pressed his lips together. It made sense. “Yeah, you’re probably right. I shouldn’t have reached out to him.”
Detective Banks shot his colleague a fleeting glance. “Can you tell me if you’d ever met Kirk Evans before that day at the quarry? Considering there’s a connection through your father and his friend.”