Chapter Thirteen
Jim and Blair were fly fishing. Simon was down the river a bit, obviously enjoying himself as he led the pack in the number of caught fish. They were far away from the city and the physical distance, along with the pristine forest around them, made Jim's nightmarish experiences seem unreal, as if they never even happened.
Jim shook his head. There was no need to kid himself. People were dead because of what happened and there was nothing he could do about it. He needed to accept the events and move beyond them. Plus, there was the added concern that Enrique could surprise them at any moment.
Villanueva had escaped police custody while being transported from the hospital to the county jail awaiting his trial. The man's whereabouts was a loose thread that tore at the tapestry of Jim's well-being.
Jim turned to see Blair watching him closely. "Cut that out."
Blair was startled by Jim's reaction. "What? What did I do?"
"Eyeing me like I'm going to collapse any moment," Jim muttered.
"Well, you have been doing that a lot in the last month," Blair said as he cast out his line again.
"Yeah, but it's history now. I'm fine, so you can stop playing den mother."
Blair was quiet for a moment before he said, "Enrique is still on the loose, so you can't say it's all in the past."
"I'm sure he's long gone by now."
Blair grunted in reply and then began to reel in a fish. "I wish I was that sure. I mean, he's spent the last eight years hating your guts. That type of hatred just doesn't disappear overnight. In a way, I think it would have been better for you if he had died out on that street. At least you could have some real closure on the matter. Now, it's just . . . out there, like Ramon is."
Jim shrugged him off. "I'll deal with Enrique, when and if, the occasion arises."
Blair went silent as he grabbed a net for his fish. "I've got another one, Simon," he shouted.
Simon replied, "I'm still way ahead of you, Sandburg!" And then he burst into a laugh that spoke of gloating. Blair frowned and put his fish on his line of captured fish. Jim chuckled, glad somebody was catching the fish since he sure wasn't.
"Well, I think I'm going to start dinner since I'm low man on the totem pole when it comes to fishing today."
"Hold up, Jim." Sandburg followed him back to camp. "I know you don't want to talk about it, but I really think you need to talk about some of those things you experienced with Anna and Ramon . . . or Enrique, whatever. I think that needs to happen so your mind can process them into something that won't haunt you in the future."
Jim glanced over his shoulder at Blair and said, "I'm processing things just fine, Blair. Just because I don't like to talk a person's ear off like you do, doesn't mean I'm not working through it. We are two different men and the way we work out problems is different too."
Blair took in that information and was quiet as they reached their camp for the night.
"You may be right, Jim, but I certainly hope you will talk to someone if you need to."
Jim nodded, stirring up the low burning campfire. He was surprised to see Simon coming into the camp, smoking a cigar, with a broad smile on his face. "Wasn't that great fun?"
"For some of us more than others," Jim muttered.
"You're cooking tonight, Sandburg, so you better get to it. I'm starving," Simon said.
As Jim went to stand, he put a hand to his slowly healing ribs.
"Is it still bothering you, Jim," Simon asked.
"Sometimes, if I move the wrong way, but they're healing."
Blair opened the cooler with their food supplies and stared into it.
"Why are you trying to decide what's for dinner, Sandburg, when I'm holding our dinner in my hands?" Simon said with pride in his voice.
"Oh yeah, I guess that will work," Blair said, taking the fish from him. "You've got some real beauties there."
"Just a master at work."
"Are you a master at cleaning them too?" Jim quipped.
"No, that's for the chef to do."
"Great," Blair muttered.
Simon laughed and sat down on a rock. "This was a great idea, Blair."
"I come up with them occasionally."
Simon started ruffling through his backpack and came up with a letter. "Jim, this came for you at the precinct yesterday. I brought it with me and then forgot to give it to you. It's marked personal."
He handed a sealed envelope to Jim who took it and examined it closely. "No return address."
He carefully tore it open and found a get well card. When he opened the card and read the tightly written handwriting, he stiffened. There were only a few words, but the message was enough to freeze his soul, "The chameleon fades back into its surroundings waiting for another time to move unnoticed."
Glancing up, he saw his two good friends watching him closely. "It's from Ramon-I mean Enrique."
Simon stood. "What does it say?"
Jim handed him the card and got to his feet, feeling the need to pace a bit as Blair read over Simon's arm.
"I don't think he's done with you yet, Jim," Blair said finally.
"He's done as far as I'm concerned," Jim said, his jaw tight with tension.
"We will have to keep an eye open for him," Simon said, meeting Jim's gaze.
"Yeah, yeah, whatever."
He rubbed the back of his neck and when he glanced back, he saw Simon and Blair still watching him. "What? I'm not going to let the fear of Enrique's potential return ruin my life. I'm not! Dammit, this is my life and I will determine how I'm going to live it."
Blair walked over to him and placed a hand on his shoulder. "You're right, Jim. You can't live in fear, but you don't have to be foolhardy at the same time."
Jim started to walk away from his friends when Blair said, "Look, I know you are hurting, feeling guilty about the people who were murdered, but just remember, it's okay to close the door to your guilt, but don't close the door to your past, because it's a part of you. The good and the bad together make up the human psyche, and they are as distinct to the soul as fingerprints can be used to identify a person. It will always be a part of you."
"Even the beatings and the drugs?" Jim exclaimed, shaking his head as he took a few steps away from his friends. "I'd sure as hell like to forget that!"
Jim cringed as soon as the words came out of his mouth, revealing more of his inner rage than he wanted to share with his friends. It was something Jim had to work out for himself, not fodder for a group discussion.
Blair's expression went sad. "I know, Jim, I know you went through hell, but like I've been saying you need to talk-"
Jim spun around, not wanting hear any more theories about what he should or shouldn't do, and most definitely, not wanting to say more than he was prepared to say. "No, I need to go for a walk. I've got some things to work out . . . alone."
Almost as an afterthought, he added, "I'll be back before dinner's ready."
"You sure you don't want some company, Jim?" Simon asked as Jim started to leave.
"Maybe later, but not right now. Thanks anyway."
Jim headed back toward the river, letting his thoughts drift. When they came upon the incidents in Peru, they no longer held any power over him. They were just memories now. Memories that could safely return to the past where they belonged, but it was the memories of more recent events that still hurt. They were painful in the sense of lost friends and the abuse he'd received from Anna and Enrique.
Those incidents and the emotions surrounding them were strong, but there was much he still had to resolve. It helped to know his memory lapses involving his time with Anna and Enrique were from the drugs and the beatings he'd received, but little helped when he thought of potential reprisals from Enrique.
He sighed, thinking back to what he told Blair earlier. He'd deal with Enrique, when and if, it ever came to pass. Jim scooped up some small stones from the riverbank and tossed them into the slow-moving water. He thought about how he had dealt with his guilt back in Lima eight years ago and compared it to how he was dealing with it now. He wasn't the same man as he was back in Peru. He didn't need to keep everything bottled up inside of him without resolution.
His time in the jungles of Peru and as a cop had taught him much about life. In fact, he had grown quite a bit since the days of Lima. Maybe Blair was right. Maybe there was a way to close the door on his guilt without closing the door to his past.
All he knew was that he no longer lived in the past. He'd spent the last five years grabbing hold of life with all the gusto he could.He looked in the direction of their camp and smelled the fish cooking.
"Let the past stay in its grave," he whispered, thinking back to something one of the elders of the tribe Jim was with in Peru once said. That man was a wise old sage and Jim often listened to his wisdom.
"Let the past stay in its grave," he repeated, mulling over the words as he turned and started walking back. Dinner would be ready soon. And then there would the time spent sitting around the campfire with him dodging questions from Blair and Simon. That image in his mind wasn't very appealing at all.
He shook his head, chiding himself for giving Banks and Sandburg such a hard time just for caring about what happens to him. Hell, both of them have given him valuable counsel over the years. Maybe he should open up to them.
Jim leaned against a tree stump and considered the matter further. Talking about the abuse he'd suffered at the hands of his captors still felt too personal to share. At least, it did right now. The other stuff, the suppressed memories that came to light . . . maybe he could discuss that with his friends. In fact, it might be good to talk about some of those things.
Jim picked up a twig lying on the ground beside him and saw something small and reptilian scurry into the lush vegetation, quickly fading from view.
He stared at the spot where the creature disappeared. Enrique wanted him to believe he could fade away like that, but Jim wasn't buying into that idea. There were APBs and fliers that went out to law enforcement agencies across the country. Enrique was too smug to think he'd actually be caught. And that arrogance would lead to his downfall.
Until then, Jim would carry on with his life, perhaps a little more wary than before, but he wasn't about to let Villanueva haunt his existence any longer. It was time to get back to the business of living, he decided, as he began walking again.
Good job, Jimbo. You're on the right track now.
Jim whirled around him before realizing he was still alone on the path. He rubbed the back of his neck, closing his eyes, trying to push the voice back into the inner recesses of his thoughts, but it didn't work and he wasn't so sure he wanted it to work.
Was it actually Kenny talking to him beyond the grave? Or was it some lingering side effect of the drugs? He paused, not knowing what to do. He sat down on a nearby rock and closed his eyes.
Kenny, I don't know if you can hear me, but I'm so sorry about what happened to you. I never thought Anna would come after you. He started to stand, almost losing his resolve thinking he would soon be a candidate for the looney bin.
Taking a deep breath, Jim sat back down and continued with his apology, I want you to know you'll always cause the kind of warm memories that comes from a true friend. I want you to have peace...to move on and not stay with me. That's the name of the game these days. Moving on. Moving past. Just moving.
He paused, collecting his thoughts. I want you to move on, because I want to move on, too, but not to push the memories aside like I did with Lima. It's something I'll have to work on, and eventually talk to someone about, but I'll never forget you, Kenny. Never. I just wanted you to know that.
Jim surprised himself by not being embarrassed at talking to a memory. Somehow, it felt right, like it was a necessary step in the grieving process. He stood, but didn't move. Take it easy, Kenny, wherever you are.
There was a slight breeze and Jim turned into it just as he heard, You take it easy too, good buddy. Keep on doing what you have to do and you'll be okay.
Something in Jim's heart was released and a solitary tear escaped down his cheek. He wiped at it as he considered what had just happened. Maybe Kenny was giving Jim his blessing and moving on like Jim had wanted. Or maybe it was all just imagined, but maybe, just maybe, it was his own way of saying goodbye to an old friend.
Whatever the reason, Jim felt freer than he had in weeks. He smiled sadly and started back on the path to their camp. After a few steps, he heard Blair and Simon arguing about something.
He stopped for a moment and smiled. No matter what, the dance of life continued on. Sometimes, it was simple, and sometimes it was a complicated ballet with players drifting in and out according to the dictates of fate.
No matter what the dance was to be for the day, Jim was ready to dive in with both feet, even if Blair and Simon argued too damned much.
The End
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