Melissa sat in the passenger seat next to me in my Mustang. Jessie occupied the back but was leaned forward over the center console in order to maintain a conversation she and my fiancé were having. I looked over at the ladies: Melissa was wearing a crème-colored sleeveless summer dress that stopped immediately after her thighs and had a vibrant floral print while Jessie wore a black layered chiffon blouse on top of a pair of white shorts. Both were so beautiful, so blissfully detached it seemed from the Hell that was around them and driving the very car that they were in. I had put on a casual dark brown button-up collared shirt and blue jeans after taking a woefully short shower; every time I wore this outfit Melissa would always playfully liken my appearance to that of formalwear for a UPS banquet.
The DVD provided by Steve proved to be useful.
"Wade listed a large sum of marked bills in a gym bag," Melissa had explained. "He also found a lot of fake driver licenses, data DVDs, and lots of reports."
The case that Wade had built against Barber and Hoyle evaporated the second the two were booked at the station. All charges that were to be brought against them were dismissed and orders to have it scrubbed from the record came down from the bench. My guess is that Wade managed to get his report in before someone could stop him in order to leave a paper trail. Unfortunately, it was too soon to tell if Wade was doing this because it was his job or if he was under the direction of someone else to intercept Barber and Hoyle.
Where that evidence was now, however, was missing. All I had to go on were the names of the magistrates and county officials who wanted to keep Barber and Hoyle clean, and that was if they were still alive.
I took a deep breath as I turned down Calderwood Lane. I felt Jessie's hand gently grab my arm.
"Are you going to be okay?" she asked.
I nodded without looking at her. Turning off the lane and into Dad's driveway. The two-story Victorian cottage before me was lit vivaciously; the smell of an outdoor grill filled the car with an aroma of various meats such as steak, pork chops, and other various kabobs. I parked outside of the garage next to Race's silver colored Super Duty Ram truck. After killing the engine, we exited the car and made our way to the front door. Jessie lightly rapped on the mahogany door. Seconds later it opened to reveal Estella, Jessie's mother. With a bright smile and a surprise excitement from Jessie, the mother and daughter embraced tightly before Estella hugged Melissa hard, telling her that it was so good to see her again. I slowly entered the threshold and waivered momentarily.
Estella was a glimpse into the future for what Jessie was going to look like when she matured. When I was a kid, Estella's hair was as short as Jessie was being forced to keep hers to fall within military guidelines, if not shorter; now it was long enough to fall past her shoulders freely with gentle waves in them. Both mother and daughter shared the same ferociously green eyes that captivated many.
And this time was no exception.
Estella looked me over before wrapping her arms around me and hugging me tight. I returned the embrace.
"How have you been, Jonny?" she asked softly. "Are you sleeping? Eating?"
We parted and I sheepishly looked down at Dad's polished tongue-and-groove hardwood floor.
"Didn't expect to see you here, Estella," I replied, rubbing the back of my neck. "In answer to your question: I try to when I can, though sleep has been hard to get lately."
"I wanted to see Jessie before her next deployment. But that's beside the point," Estella said, putting her hands on my shoulders. "Jonny, you know you can come to me if you need to. We all love you and we're all worried about you."
"I know."
She gave a halfway smile and kissed me gently on the cheek before asking, "Everyone's out back on the deck. Why don't you join them?"
"I might… I just need a minute."
"I understand."
Estella stepped aside and allowed me entry into Dad's house. My father's new house was very quaint given the ungodly amounts of money he had at his disposal. White trim with large baseboards and a cream-colored paint with a soft hint of light green composed the walls that weren't obscured by decorative paintings, family portraits, and shelves. Elegant ceiling fans were situated in each room to help circulate air—my dad, like me, was hot natured—while the many latticed windows offered many views into the outside world. I walked through the living room and into the kitchen area. Hadji, wearing a loose navy blue dress shirt and blue jeans, was raiding the refrigerator; everyone else was past the patio door out on the deck. Sensing my presence, he stepped back and looked at me.
"I've heard you had one, as they say, 'fan-fucking-tastic' week, my brother," Hadji said with a soft grin.
He tossed me a bottle of Killian's lager. I walked over to the rectangular kitchen table and took a seat.
"You're telling me," I said, twisting the cap off and taking a large gulp. "I hope yours has been better."
Hadji walked over with his respective bottle and sat adjacent to me. After following suit, he replied, "I've been showing Melana around and introducing her to our friends. She really likes it here and has been anxious to meet you."
"Not anxious enough to stick around, I see."
Hadji laughed.
"She's outside with the others," he said. "I told her it would be wise if I served as a buffer first in order to allow you to collect your thoughts before a proper introduction."
"Oh? You afraid I'm going to say something stupid?"
"You said it, not me."
I smirked and drank some more beer.
"How is your case going? Is there anything I can do to be of assistance?" Hadji asked.
"You can back me up on something, yes," I said. "I need to ask Dad for the deed to Mom's plot and to sign a petition for exhumation. I also want her Social Security number to go on what you suggested the other night."
"A credit check?"
"Yeah."
Hadji nodded in agreement. We ended up discussing how I attempted to have Garry Barber investigated and how a roadblock kept appearing at every turn. I explained that I was afraid to start digging into Dr. Earley's personal profile for fear of retaliation or attracting the wrong crowd. He listened in absolute awe at the events that transpired involving Reno, the rescuing of Gwen, and the accompaniment of Julia. Two more beers later, I had laid it all out bare for him. Hadji shook his head in near-disbelief.
"I am amazed, old friend," he said with a heavy sigh. "That even this adventure hasn't claimed you, at least, not yet. That being said: I am more worried than ever for your wellbeing."
"Thanks, Hadji," I replied with a sad appreciation. "By the way… I don't know if it means anything, but I figured maybe you could provide some insight into something…"
"Of course. What is it?"
I explained to Hadji about my recurring dreams with Jessie and the subconscious message I was telling myself through her. Hadji listened intently before resting back into his chair. After a few moments of pondering, he said, "May I ask why you seem afraid of reexamining that incident?"
"Come on, Hadji," I protested. "You know what that did to me; I'm already walking a very thin line of stability at the moment."
"While that may be true, my brother, something inside of you feels that there is a piece missing from that fateful evening."
I downed another beer and asked, "Such as?"
Hadji asked using hand motions like he was in the classroom: "Where was Mrs. Mullinax going in such a hurry? Why did she deem it necessary to attempt to kill her children? What exactly was she trying to get away from? Have you reviewed the case file for it?"
"No," I replied, shaking my head. "I haven't even bothered looking for it. Chances are, though, from what I've learned, it may be buried."
"Buried?"
"Someone has been cleaning out case files at work," I explained. "The Sheriff thinks he might be on the docket for an unexpected vacation, too; he gave me a piece of paper with some coordinates to an island off the coast inside the inlet. Chances are, it might be that particular case file…"
"Why would he bury it?" Hadji asked.
"It may or may not be underground, but in any case, inside that case file is not only all the notes, reports, interviews, and transcripts, but also the tape from my dashboard camera that night."
"I see."
"Hadji, listen: I don't know what these people want with me, or us, or the whole fucking family, but whatever it is, they want me alive. For the rest of you, I'm not so sure. I'm meeting a woman tomorrow at Mom's graveside that might hold some answers."
"Is that what the paperwork is for?" Hadji asked. "What role does she play in this?"
I rolled the empty beer bottle around in my hands as I explained: "I called Lori, Wade's wife, to see how he's doing before coming over. I asked her if she knew who the lady—Karla Wells, her name—was that Wade left a note for. Hadji, I shit you not: the woman is Lori's sister; she and her husband are the goddamn cemetery caretakers. I don't know about you, but I don't fucking believe in coincidences."
"I don't either, Jonny," he said. "How is Wade?"
"Still heavily medicated. Lori says he's in so much pain that she fights hard to keep it together. I won't be able to talk to him until at least next week."
Hadji motioned with his eyes towards the patio. The group was starting to migrate into the kitchen.
"After dinner," I said.
Hadji nodded, replying, "After dinner."
I adjusted my holster hiding underneath my shirt and stood up. I had an appetite to quell before I could gather any more information.
