Chapter 7
"I'm glad we came," Mark said, as he closed and locked the door to Carol's apartment.
Steve nodded, surprised to discover he agreed with his father. He had spent a sleepless night wondering if he could sit through yet another service, one that promised to be more emotional since these were the people Carol had interacted with almost on a daily basis. Finally around dawn, he had decided he owed it to his sister as well as to the people who had known and loved her to participate.
"I know you didn't really want to come," Mark was saying, "but it meant a lot to have you sitting next to me."
How does he do that? Steve thought. Out loud he said, "I never said anything about not wanting to come."
"Steve, I could see your reluctance the minute Trisha brought it up."
Uncomfortable his father could read him so accurately, Steve broke eye contact. His gaze slid to a worn teddy bear sitting in the rocking chair. It looked so out of place in the otherwise neat living room it had caught his attention almost immediately after they had arrived at Carol's apartment a few hours earlier. Trisha had noticed his interest and commented on it.
"Willie kind of sticks out like a sore thumb doesn't he?" she'd asked. "I never could figure out Carol's attraction to that bear. Sure he must've been cute when he was new, but he's so worn out now. One night when I was here, she was stitching up one of the seams. I laughingly suggested that maybe it was time for her to give up on old Willie. You would've thought I told her to pitch the original Mona Lisa. She let me know in no uncertain terms that Willie was with her for the long haul and that for a while he was the only guy she felt she could count on. Then she made some cryptic comment about Willie always having a hug for her and chasing away her nightmares."
"Steve?"
Mark's voice broke into Steve's thoughts. From his tone, Steve figured it wasn't the first time his dad had spoken his name.
"Yeah, Dad?"
"Are you okay?"
"Sure, Dad."
"It's just that.well, you seem preoccupied with that bear. I noticed you looking at it when we got here and you were just staring at it again." Mark looked at Steve curiously. "Do you know why it was so important to Carol? Do you know who gave it to her?" "I can't believe she kept it all these years," Steve said, almost to himself. Turning to his dad, he said quietly, "I gave it to her. The day I left for Vietnam." He sighed. "She was almost too old for it, but I saw it in the store window and had to get it for her. Too old for stuffed animals yet too young to understand why I had to go. Anyway when I gave her the bear, and you have to remember we got along much better then, I told her that while I was gone Willie would protect her and chase away her nightmares and no matter where I went or what happened to me all she'd have to do is look at Willie to know how much I loved her. I told her that I made sure he was filled with an endless supply of hugs so that whenever she needed one he'd always have one for her and it would be like getting it from me." Steve's voice broke on the last two words.
Mark squeezed his son's shoulder gently. "It certainly looks like she hugged him an awful lot."
"You know that I loved her, don't you Dad? That I would've done anything to prevent this?"
Mark was shocked by Steve's feelings of guilt. As far as he was concerned, Steve had nothing to feel guilty about. "Of course I know you loved your sister. What makes you think I'd doubt that?"
"We had our share of problems, Carol and I, but we were working on them. You never said anything, but I know you were disappointed about our falling out, and I was hoping that we'd get a chance on this visit to talk some more and finally make things right."
"Steve." Mark's voice was firm. "You weren't the only one to blame for Carol's leaving all those years ago. I played a part in that too, but she came back eventually. When she felt she had nowhere else to turn she came to us and let us help her." His voice softened. "I never doubted your love for Carol, knew you never stopped loving her even when you were so mad at her. And I know you would've done whatever it took to protect her from this. Sometimes, though, we just don't get that chance and we have to try and find a way to live with that."
Sighing, Steve reached out and gently touched Willie's face. "Thanks, Dad."
"For what?"
"For." he paused and smiled slightly, "everything," he finished simply.
**************
Steve woke with a start, his heavy breathing the only sound in his quiet apartment. The nightmare was so real it took a few moments for him to shake off the last vestiges of it. At least Steve didn't hear his dad's footsteps coming to check on him. The first time he'd had the nightmare Mark had been in the kitchen making himself some warm milk when he'd heard Steve cry out. Bursting into the bedroom, he'd found his son shaking and drenched in sweat. Steve had downplayed the incident and sent his dad back to bed. The next night Steve had fallen asleep on the sofa upstairs. Mark again had come on the run when he'd heard Steve thrashing and moaning. Steve had avoided talking about it by claiming he didn't remember what the dream was about. Now each night before he went to sleep Steve made sure his door was tightly shut so his dad wouldn't hear his cries when the dream inevitably returned to haunt his sleep.
Looking at the clock, Steve discovered he'd been asleep longer than usual before being awakened by the reoccurring dream. Still, from past experience he knew there'd be no more sleep this night. Sighing, he untangled his long legs from the twisted sheets and got up.
A couple of hours later Steve was on the deck having a cup of coffee and watching the sun rise when Mark came out of the house. He, too, had a cup of coffee in his hand.
"You're up early."
"Couldn't sleep."
"Any particular reason?"
Steve sensed Mark was fishing for information. Not for the first time he debated about telling him about his nightmare but like every other time decided against it. He simply couldn't share the details with his father. Steve had asked Emma to let him know if his dad ever wanted to see the crime scene photos and she had promised to let him know if Mark ever asked her for them. So far he hadn't asked to see them, and Steve knew he could never willingly subject his father to the horror in words or pictures of how Carol had looked in that alley if he could avoid it.
"So any particular reason for you not being able to sleep?" Mark repeated.
"Probably the same as you, Dad. It's been a horrible couple of weeks, lots of questions and not enough answers." Steve paused and gazed at the horizon. "And I talked to Captain Newman about going back to work."
"So soon?" The words slipped from Mark's mouth.
"It's been two weeks. By the time I actually get on the duty roster it'll be almost three, and I have a feeling I'll have to ride a desk for a couple of days once I get back."
"But are you."
"Ready? That I won't know until I go back to work. I need to go back. I can't hide here forever. Neither can you. We need to try and pick up the pieces and move ahead."
"Will you be able to get time off to go back to Portland?"
They still had to face the task of sorting and packing Carol's apartment. Trisha Ferguson had volunteered to do it for them but Mark had refused. As much as it would hurt, he needed to be the one who boxed up his daughter's belongings. Martin Lewis had accepted another month's rent to give them some additional time, but within a few weeks he and Steve would have to return and close out Carol's life. "I told Captain Newman about it and he said it shouldn't be a problem."
"You'll level with Newman if you get out there and find it's too soon?"
"Dad - "
"Promise me you'll tell him if you can't do it. You need to be sharp and not distracted when you're on the street."
Steve thought his dad was hovering a little more than normal but then figured he probably had a right to since he'd just buried one child and had no desire to do it again. He didn't want to be the cause of more stress for his father.
"I will, Dad. I promise."
"You want some breakfast?"
Steve's stomach churned at the thought of food. "You go ahead. I'm going for a swim first. If I want anything later, I'll help myself."
Mark nodded distractedly. He kept getting the feeling Steve had something on his mind or was holding something back from him and hoped his son would eventually share what was troubling him. Normally he would've pressed Steve to open up but, as selfish as it seemed, Mark didn't know if he was emotionally capable of providing counsel and support right now. He was still reeling from the events of the past two weeks including the intense media coverage surrounding Carol's murder. Despite all the stories and pleas for information, the police had turned up very few useful leads to help them catch her killer.
Mark sifted through the envelopes on his desk. Sympathy cards and notes of condolence were still arriving. Mixed in with those however were bills and other official papers forwarded to him from Carol's apartment. Before leaving Portland they had canceled the newspaper and disconnected the phone and cable, but now Mark was dealing with insurance policies and bank statements. The Portland police had assisted the LAPD in getting Carol's credit cards canceled in the hours after her body had been discovered in case the murderer had had any ideas of trying to use them so Mark had been spared having to explain to those companies why he was closing the accounts. He had lost count of the number of times he'd had to tell his story to an impersonal voice at the other end of the phone only to be transferred to someone else where he'd have to start at the beginning. It was a frustrating and oftentimes painful process.
Looking at the clock, Mark realized it was nearly lunchtime. He also realized he hadn't seen Steve since their early morning chat on the deck. Descending the stairs to Steve's apartment, he was surprised to find it deserted and the truck missing from its usual spot in the driveway. Mark frowned. It wasn't like Steve to take off without telling him or at the very least leaving a note. He decided to wait a while to see if Steve called and, if he didn't, he'd try paging him.
Mark didn't have to wait long. While he was picking at the lunch he'd made for himself, the phone rang. Grabbing it, he was relieved to hear Steve's voice on the other end.
"You left without telling me." Mark winced at the accusatory tone in his voice.
Either Steve didn't pick up on it or he chose to ignore it. "I took off in a hurry. Manny called from the restaurant and was having plumbing problems."
"When will you be home?"
"Not 'til late. I told Jesse I'd close for him. Don't wait up. Talk to you later."
Mark barely had a chance to say good-bye before hearing the dial tone. He sighed and slowly hung up the phone. Steve had sound distracted during their quick conversation but Mark attributed that to the plumbing problems rather than to the events of the past couple of weeks. He sighed again. Maybe Steve was right to consider going back to work. Withdrawing inside the beach house had accomplished nothing but increasing the amount of time available to dwell on Carol's death. Dumping what was left of his lunch, Mark went over to his computer. He could at least check his hospital email and start trying to figure out what had been going on during his absence. He also decided to talk to the medical school dean about returning to some of his classes. The students were challenging and would help sharpen instincts that had been dulled by pain and grief. Mark wasn't sure, however, if he was ready to see patients yet. Sometimes it could be emotionally draining treating and counseling patients, and he didn't want to short change them by not being totally focused on what he was doing.
The next morning while Mark was on the deck reading the paper the phone rang. It was Captain Newman looking for Steve.
"He's out for a run. Can I give him a message?"
"Just have him call me. I wanted to let him know he's back on the duty roster."
Mark's heart skipped a beat. Not a day went by that he didn't worry about something happening to Steve while on duty but, for the most part, he'd been able to control the fear rather than it controlling him. Now the worry threatened to overwhelm him. The memory of seeing Carol in the morgue was still too fresh and Mark couldn't even bear the thought of seeing Steve there as well. If Steve would've walked through the door at that moment and announced he was quitting, Mark knew he would've done nothing to try and change his mind.
"I'll give him the message."
Captain Newman seemed to sense Mark's reluctance. "I'll ease him back into duty if that's what you're worried about. I'm planning on having him ride with Emma for a couple of days." Mark breathed a silent sigh of relief. "Thanks," he said gratefully.
When Steve returned after his run, Mark told him about Captain Newman's call. Nodding, he headed downstairs. When he returned a short time later, his hair was still damp from the shower and he was dressed for the restaurant. Mark though he looked tired but clamped his lips shut to prevent a comment from slipping out.
"I didn't hear you come in last night."
"It was late. I started the inventory after we closed. Hopefully I'll get it done so Manny and Jesse won't have to do it this weekend."
"When does Captain Newman want you back to work?"
"Sunday afternoon. Emma's pulling weekend duty and he wants me to stick with her for a couple of days."
"I called Emma this morning. To see if there'd been any progress."
Steve smothered a flash of irritation. "Dad, Emma will call if anything breaks."
"I know but people get busy. It might slip her mind."
"I doubt it. Let her do her job. She doesn't need you checking up on her."
"Is that what you think I'm doing? Is that what Emma thinks?"
"No!" Steve's tone was sharp.
"Then what? I have a right to call the detective investigating my daughter's murder and ask for an update."
"And all I'm saying is that Emma will share what she finds out without us having to ask her." Steve took a deep breath to reign in his temper. "Look Dad, I'd love to stay and discuss this with you but I have to go."
"Where?"
"Bob's. The order is due, I want to finish the inventory and I have to close."
"Again?"
"Manny wanted the night off and Jesse has a shift at the hospital." Steve grabbed his jacket. "I'm sure it'll be late. Don't wait up for me."
Watching his son pull out of the driveway, Mark still couldn't shake the feeling Steve was hiding something from him. He hoped it was nothing serious. He also hoped whatever it was wouldn't distract Steve when he returned to duty in just three short days.
"I'm glad we came," Mark said, as he closed and locked the door to Carol's apartment.
Steve nodded, surprised to discover he agreed with his father. He had spent a sleepless night wondering if he could sit through yet another service, one that promised to be more emotional since these were the people Carol had interacted with almost on a daily basis. Finally around dawn, he had decided he owed it to his sister as well as to the people who had known and loved her to participate.
"I know you didn't really want to come," Mark was saying, "but it meant a lot to have you sitting next to me."
How does he do that? Steve thought. Out loud he said, "I never said anything about not wanting to come."
"Steve, I could see your reluctance the minute Trisha brought it up."
Uncomfortable his father could read him so accurately, Steve broke eye contact. His gaze slid to a worn teddy bear sitting in the rocking chair. It looked so out of place in the otherwise neat living room it had caught his attention almost immediately after they had arrived at Carol's apartment a few hours earlier. Trisha had noticed his interest and commented on it.
"Willie kind of sticks out like a sore thumb doesn't he?" she'd asked. "I never could figure out Carol's attraction to that bear. Sure he must've been cute when he was new, but he's so worn out now. One night when I was here, she was stitching up one of the seams. I laughingly suggested that maybe it was time for her to give up on old Willie. You would've thought I told her to pitch the original Mona Lisa. She let me know in no uncertain terms that Willie was with her for the long haul and that for a while he was the only guy she felt she could count on. Then she made some cryptic comment about Willie always having a hug for her and chasing away her nightmares."
"Steve?"
Mark's voice broke into Steve's thoughts. From his tone, Steve figured it wasn't the first time his dad had spoken his name.
"Yeah, Dad?"
"Are you okay?"
"Sure, Dad."
"It's just that.well, you seem preoccupied with that bear. I noticed you looking at it when we got here and you were just staring at it again." Mark looked at Steve curiously. "Do you know why it was so important to Carol? Do you know who gave it to her?" "I can't believe she kept it all these years," Steve said, almost to himself. Turning to his dad, he said quietly, "I gave it to her. The day I left for Vietnam." He sighed. "She was almost too old for it, but I saw it in the store window and had to get it for her. Too old for stuffed animals yet too young to understand why I had to go. Anyway when I gave her the bear, and you have to remember we got along much better then, I told her that while I was gone Willie would protect her and chase away her nightmares and no matter where I went or what happened to me all she'd have to do is look at Willie to know how much I loved her. I told her that I made sure he was filled with an endless supply of hugs so that whenever she needed one he'd always have one for her and it would be like getting it from me." Steve's voice broke on the last two words.
Mark squeezed his son's shoulder gently. "It certainly looks like she hugged him an awful lot."
"You know that I loved her, don't you Dad? That I would've done anything to prevent this?"
Mark was shocked by Steve's feelings of guilt. As far as he was concerned, Steve had nothing to feel guilty about. "Of course I know you loved your sister. What makes you think I'd doubt that?"
"We had our share of problems, Carol and I, but we were working on them. You never said anything, but I know you were disappointed about our falling out, and I was hoping that we'd get a chance on this visit to talk some more and finally make things right."
"Steve." Mark's voice was firm. "You weren't the only one to blame for Carol's leaving all those years ago. I played a part in that too, but she came back eventually. When she felt she had nowhere else to turn she came to us and let us help her." His voice softened. "I never doubted your love for Carol, knew you never stopped loving her even when you were so mad at her. And I know you would've done whatever it took to protect her from this. Sometimes, though, we just don't get that chance and we have to try and find a way to live with that."
Sighing, Steve reached out and gently touched Willie's face. "Thanks, Dad."
"For what?"
"For." he paused and smiled slightly, "everything," he finished simply.
**************
Steve woke with a start, his heavy breathing the only sound in his quiet apartment. The nightmare was so real it took a few moments for him to shake off the last vestiges of it. At least Steve didn't hear his dad's footsteps coming to check on him. The first time he'd had the nightmare Mark had been in the kitchen making himself some warm milk when he'd heard Steve cry out. Bursting into the bedroom, he'd found his son shaking and drenched in sweat. Steve had downplayed the incident and sent his dad back to bed. The next night Steve had fallen asleep on the sofa upstairs. Mark again had come on the run when he'd heard Steve thrashing and moaning. Steve had avoided talking about it by claiming he didn't remember what the dream was about. Now each night before he went to sleep Steve made sure his door was tightly shut so his dad wouldn't hear his cries when the dream inevitably returned to haunt his sleep.
Looking at the clock, Steve discovered he'd been asleep longer than usual before being awakened by the reoccurring dream. Still, from past experience he knew there'd be no more sleep this night. Sighing, he untangled his long legs from the twisted sheets and got up.
A couple of hours later Steve was on the deck having a cup of coffee and watching the sun rise when Mark came out of the house. He, too, had a cup of coffee in his hand.
"You're up early."
"Couldn't sleep."
"Any particular reason?"
Steve sensed Mark was fishing for information. Not for the first time he debated about telling him about his nightmare but like every other time decided against it. He simply couldn't share the details with his father. Steve had asked Emma to let him know if his dad ever wanted to see the crime scene photos and she had promised to let him know if Mark ever asked her for them. So far he hadn't asked to see them, and Steve knew he could never willingly subject his father to the horror in words or pictures of how Carol had looked in that alley if he could avoid it.
"So any particular reason for you not being able to sleep?" Mark repeated.
"Probably the same as you, Dad. It's been a horrible couple of weeks, lots of questions and not enough answers." Steve paused and gazed at the horizon. "And I talked to Captain Newman about going back to work."
"So soon?" The words slipped from Mark's mouth.
"It's been two weeks. By the time I actually get on the duty roster it'll be almost three, and I have a feeling I'll have to ride a desk for a couple of days once I get back."
"But are you."
"Ready? That I won't know until I go back to work. I need to go back. I can't hide here forever. Neither can you. We need to try and pick up the pieces and move ahead."
"Will you be able to get time off to go back to Portland?"
They still had to face the task of sorting and packing Carol's apartment. Trisha Ferguson had volunteered to do it for them but Mark had refused. As much as it would hurt, he needed to be the one who boxed up his daughter's belongings. Martin Lewis had accepted another month's rent to give them some additional time, but within a few weeks he and Steve would have to return and close out Carol's life. "I told Captain Newman about it and he said it shouldn't be a problem."
"You'll level with Newman if you get out there and find it's too soon?"
"Dad - "
"Promise me you'll tell him if you can't do it. You need to be sharp and not distracted when you're on the street."
Steve thought his dad was hovering a little more than normal but then figured he probably had a right to since he'd just buried one child and had no desire to do it again. He didn't want to be the cause of more stress for his father.
"I will, Dad. I promise."
"You want some breakfast?"
Steve's stomach churned at the thought of food. "You go ahead. I'm going for a swim first. If I want anything later, I'll help myself."
Mark nodded distractedly. He kept getting the feeling Steve had something on his mind or was holding something back from him and hoped his son would eventually share what was troubling him. Normally he would've pressed Steve to open up but, as selfish as it seemed, Mark didn't know if he was emotionally capable of providing counsel and support right now. He was still reeling from the events of the past two weeks including the intense media coverage surrounding Carol's murder. Despite all the stories and pleas for information, the police had turned up very few useful leads to help them catch her killer.
Mark sifted through the envelopes on his desk. Sympathy cards and notes of condolence were still arriving. Mixed in with those however were bills and other official papers forwarded to him from Carol's apartment. Before leaving Portland they had canceled the newspaper and disconnected the phone and cable, but now Mark was dealing with insurance policies and bank statements. The Portland police had assisted the LAPD in getting Carol's credit cards canceled in the hours after her body had been discovered in case the murderer had had any ideas of trying to use them so Mark had been spared having to explain to those companies why he was closing the accounts. He had lost count of the number of times he'd had to tell his story to an impersonal voice at the other end of the phone only to be transferred to someone else where he'd have to start at the beginning. It was a frustrating and oftentimes painful process.
Looking at the clock, Mark realized it was nearly lunchtime. He also realized he hadn't seen Steve since their early morning chat on the deck. Descending the stairs to Steve's apartment, he was surprised to find it deserted and the truck missing from its usual spot in the driveway. Mark frowned. It wasn't like Steve to take off without telling him or at the very least leaving a note. He decided to wait a while to see if Steve called and, if he didn't, he'd try paging him.
Mark didn't have to wait long. While he was picking at the lunch he'd made for himself, the phone rang. Grabbing it, he was relieved to hear Steve's voice on the other end.
"You left without telling me." Mark winced at the accusatory tone in his voice.
Either Steve didn't pick up on it or he chose to ignore it. "I took off in a hurry. Manny called from the restaurant and was having plumbing problems."
"When will you be home?"
"Not 'til late. I told Jesse I'd close for him. Don't wait up. Talk to you later."
Mark barely had a chance to say good-bye before hearing the dial tone. He sighed and slowly hung up the phone. Steve had sound distracted during their quick conversation but Mark attributed that to the plumbing problems rather than to the events of the past couple of weeks. He sighed again. Maybe Steve was right to consider going back to work. Withdrawing inside the beach house had accomplished nothing but increasing the amount of time available to dwell on Carol's death. Dumping what was left of his lunch, Mark went over to his computer. He could at least check his hospital email and start trying to figure out what had been going on during his absence. He also decided to talk to the medical school dean about returning to some of his classes. The students were challenging and would help sharpen instincts that had been dulled by pain and grief. Mark wasn't sure, however, if he was ready to see patients yet. Sometimes it could be emotionally draining treating and counseling patients, and he didn't want to short change them by not being totally focused on what he was doing.
The next morning while Mark was on the deck reading the paper the phone rang. It was Captain Newman looking for Steve.
"He's out for a run. Can I give him a message?"
"Just have him call me. I wanted to let him know he's back on the duty roster."
Mark's heart skipped a beat. Not a day went by that he didn't worry about something happening to Steve while on duty but, for the most part, he'd been able to control the fear rather than it controlling him. Now the worry threatened to overwhelm him. The memory of seeing Carol in the morgue was still too fresh and Mark couldn't even bear the thought of seeing Steve there as well. If Steve would've walked through the door at that moment and announced he was quitting, Mark knew he would've done nothing to try and change his mind.
"I'll give him the message."
Captain Newman seemed to sense Mark's reluctance. "I'll ease him back into duty if that's what you're worried about. I'm planning on having him ride with Emma for a couple of days." Mark breathed a silent sigh of relief. "Thanks," he said gratefully.
When Steve returned after his run, Mark told him about Captain Newman's call. Nodding, he headed downstairs. When he returned a short time later, his hair was still damp from the shower and he was dressed for the restaurant. Mark though he looked tired but clamped his lips shut to prevent a comment from slipping out.
"I didn't hear you come in last night."
"It was late. I started the inventory after we closed. Hopefully I'll get it done so Manny and Jesse won't have to do it this weekend."
"When does Captain Newman want you back to work?"
"Sunday afternoon. Emma's pulling weekend duty and he wants me to stick with her for a couple of days."
"I called Emma this morning. To see if there'd been any progress."
Steve smothered a flash of irritation. "Dad, Emma will call if anything breaks."
"I know but people get busy. It might slip her mind."
"I doubt it. Let her do her job. She doesn't need you checking up on her."
"Is that what you think I'm doing? Is that what Emma thinks?"
"No!" Steve's tone was sharp.
"Then what? I have a right to call the detective investigating my daughter's murder and ask for an update."
"And all I'm saying is that Emma will share what she finds out without us having to ask her." Steve took a deep breath to reign in his temper. "Look Dad, I'd love to stay and discuss this with you but I have to go."
"Where?"
"Bob's. The order is due, I want to finish the inventory and I have to close."
"Again?"
"Manny wanted the night off and Jesse has a shift at the hospital." Steve grabbed his jacket. "I'm sure it'll be late. Don't wait up for me."
Watching his son pull out of the driveway, Mark still couldn't shake the feeling Steve was hiding something from him. He hoped it was nothing serious. He also hoped whatever it was wouldn't distract Steve when he returned to duty in just three short days.