NIP 19

He calmly sets his phone down. He is done crying like a baby and wallowing in self-pity. In fact, he is slightly aroused by his and Sari’s passionate encounter. No two people would act so irrational if it weren’t true love. Mark feels a tingle in his pants.

A soothing hot shower should do. For now.

****************************************************************************

I feel wired as I eagerly approach Lizi front door. This rawness is reminiscent of college all-nighters topped off with 3 pots of coffee and vivarin. I am pruning…my skin is so tight. My insides are a desert. I am not even certain what is up and what is down. I am simply in motion.

Despite my want to crawl under a rock and weather the storm I keep on the move. I need to see Lizi with my own two eyes. And truthfully, I need a friend. A sister.

I knock my standard 3 taps. 2 fast, 5 second pause, last one. I have announced myself this way since before I can remember. This way Lizi knew it was me and not Aunt Clara or Ainslie. Lizi and I would stay up way too late on school nights braiding each others hair, dancing to Madonna and planning our perfect weddings. So much for that, I sigh.

“Sari! It’s Sari! She is here!” Lizi cheers before she reaches out to me and captures me in a bear hug. “Thank god. Thank GOD!.”

“Oh Lizi. You are safe.” I cry. Lizi cries. We hold our embrace saying nothing while our hearts say everything.

“I am.” She wipes tears off her cheeks. We stand just an arms length away. Seeing her is the first time I feel anything like myself. I push her long, sleek, brown sugar hair off of her shoulders. “It is so good to finally see you. In person. I am so sorry about all of this Sari. I’m stunned. I saw the newscast.”

“What!?!” Oh no. “Oh Lizi, no. I am so sorry. I wanted to tell you everything face to face. I didn’t want you to find out that way! Please let me tell you now.”

“No need. Detective Callahan already did.” Lizi steps to the side to reveal a seated Detective Brad Callahan.

“Oh. Hi. What are you doing here?” I ask curiously.

“Figured I’d find you here.” His honesty catches me off guard.

“Why? Oh shit…Detective Hughes?” My conscience is unnecessarily guilty. Can I really be thrown in jail for avoiding an unproductive interview?

“Not quite. But you need to know Hughes is looking for you to place you under protective custody.” Brad informs while pointing his index finger at me. “And if you would stop moving for two seconds you could probably help shed some light on this. By the way nice exit from the studio.”

“Thanks.” My voice is like that of a child caught stealing cookies from the cookie jar. I press my lips together and the corners turn upward. “I can shed zero light. I know shit about my own existence.”

“Sari! Come on.” Lizi insistently shakes my arm as if she can shake the horror of this day out of me. “This whole thing is getting stupid creepy. This Ed Hayes is obviously trying to get your attention.”

“Wha…” My attention? “But….wha?”

“Why else would he be coming after our family?” asks Lizi with childlike innocence.

Oh. My. God. Ainslie and Aunt Clara were murdered because of me. My heart drops into my stomach. I don’t know what emotion to call on! I simply stand there…lost. Is there something Brad told Lizi that he hasn’t shared with me?

“This is not your fault!” Lizi again insistently shakes me, but this time out of my daze. It’s like she is reading my mind although she is not…she just knows me better than I know myself.

“There are no other suspects.” Brad volunteers. “The crimes are connected and the clues are real. So far you, me and Sam and found the most compelling motive. There is an APB on Ed Hayes.”

“Now what?” I lower my head. It seems I am not waking up from this nightmare. Ever.

“Well, Lizi is going to sit tight here with her boyfriend and Officer Stevens over there. And you are going to stay at your home under the same conditions until this guy is caught.” Brad clarifies. “No more news segments. Got it?”

“I cannot promise that and I’m not going home.” I give him a solid PMS sigh and nod to my duffle bag. “I am not going home ever again.”

“Oh.” Brad looks perplexed.

“Why? Sari…you don’t think Mark has anything to do with this do you? I mean, that is crazy. Pure crazy. Not Mark. He loves you. Surely he…no way…you don’t think?” Lizi’s eyes show she too is hoping this is all a nightmare. Pinch yourself Lizi…you are not asleep baby sister.

“I do. And he did. He has been lying to me for years. Every time he said my name he was lying to me. Lizi, he has known about our parents murder and who did it our entire relationship.” I watch as my words literally deflate her.

“Oh fuck.” Lizi wraps one of my curls around her index finger. “What a prick. I can’t believe it. How? Why?”

“Lizi, you have to forgive me because I really don’t want to talk about it right now. I want to check into a hotel, shower and just be for a minute.” I am defeated.

“No way…you’ll stay here!” Demands Lizi.

I glance around her tidy one bedroom apartment. There is hardly enough room for Officer Stevens who weighs a solid 250 pounds. Let alone Lizi and her boyfriend.

“Thank you Lizi but really I want to be alone for a bit and sort through all of this in my head.” I rest my head on her shoulder. She accepts with the grace only a sister can.

“Okay sis. But I’m here if you need me.” She wraps another curl around her finger.

“I’ll get you set up.” Brad assumptuously picks my duffle bag.

“Oh, sure. Thanks.” At first I am baffled but then I mean it, thanks Brad. Honestly, I was not looking forward to thinking my way through to a comfy, relaxing bed.

Brad patiently waits for me by the door. He is leaning against the wall like Jake Ryan in Sixteen Candles. What is it about him? I wonder to myself as I tightly cling to Lizi. I don’t want to let go. Nor does she.

“You’ll be fine Sari. You will get through this…no matter how screwed up this is.” Lizi encourages me. “We have each other. Always.”

“Always.” I nod and head towards Brad. My chariot awaits.

“You’re coming with me.” Brad says as we exit Lizi’s apartment.

“Where?” I scrunch my nose.

“To my place.” He confidently walks towards his car. I self-consciously follow.

“Your place?” I question.

“Yes. Since you refuse protective custody you are stuck with me.” He grins and holds the passenger door open for me.

“Fine.” I give in quickly remembering my homicidal DNA dad has been released from prison and seems hell bent on murdering people close to me.

************************************************************************************

I fidget as Brad unlocks his front door. I have never been to his place before. My emotions are all scattered and I cannot place exactly what I am feeling in this moment.

“Welcome hostage.” Greets Brad as he extends his left arm to show me the way in.

I slowly saunter past him into his home. The corners of my mouth turn up as I glance to him out of the corner of my eye. I am totally surprised. Brad’s place is amazing. It is exquisite, inviting and cozy.

I am standing in the living room of the most charming old Victorian house in the city. The walls, floors and ceilings are all dark wood. The bookshelves are built-in and stacked with antique bound classics. The pieces of furniture are shades of blues and greens. The rugs are divine and immaculate.

I sashay through his elegant dining room filled with various sorts of plants and find myself in an first-rate chef’s kitchen. The island alone is spacious and gorgeously decorated with granite and metallic hanging pots. Not mention a shiny fruit bowl which makes my stomach growl.

“Brad…” I face him with a delicious smile. “I didn’t take you for a…god I know what…a clean freak…a fancy pants. This place is wonderful.”

“Wait until I show you the hidden stairways.” He winks. “It’s quaint.”

“Explain.” I bat my eyelashes. I need details. How does this guy live here. This macho police guy. I pick up a mosaic serving tray and stand akimbo.

“Okay, okay.” He chuckles and rescues his serving tray from my inquisitive grip. “I rehab houses in my spare time.”

“And the tray?” I raise my eyebrows and suck in my bottom lip.

“And…I furnish them.” Brad quickly spins away from me.

“Detective Brad Callahan blushes!” I tease as I spin him back to face me with is red cheeks.

“Watch it little lady. Drink?” Brad pulls open his double wide refrigerator to show me my options.

“Ahhhh…nope.” I shut the fridge. “Red wine.”

“Works for me. A beer for me.” He playfully shoves me out of his way and reenters the fridge for a Heinken Light. Light? “What?”

“Nothing. It’s nothing.” I quietly giggle.

“It’s something.” Brad stares me up and down.

“Okay..don’t use your police voodoo on me. It’s just..you’re not what I expected.” I shrug my shoulders. After all, I am entitled to my opinion.

“Right, right. I am suppose to be downing 12 packs of Bud and chowing on sausage and peppers.” He lays on a thick Chicago accent. “Move over Miss I’m going to take my belt off and let my big, hairy beer belly flop around.”

“HA!” My laughter thrusts me forward onto his beautiful and rare Blanco Romano granite countertop. Brad’s elbows join mine on his counter. We gasp for air. We are in stitches. “That feels good.”

“Laughing?” His hazel eyes are so kind. I never notice how they have a gold ring in the center.

“Yeah. I probably shouldn’t be. Huh?” I hang my head.

“You should be Sari. You need to be.” Brad rests his hand on the small of my back. I arch my back into the weight of his hand. I can feel every golf ball sized knot. Ahhh…

“I need a hot shower.” I moan.

NIP 18

“Oh baby. You’re home now. You are home. With me. I gotcha’ya.” Mark wraps his arms around Sari. He tries with all of his might to melt his body into hers. “I love you sweetie.”

“Get the FUCK off of me!” I violently convulse causing him to lose his hold on me.

“Sari, honey…” Mark whimpers with surprise.

He is actually pretending to be surprised. I am dumbfounded. Oh please. I stay still while gazing in his eyes. They are bloodshot from either stress or possibly even tears. The contrasting irises are bright blue like a bewildered child.

“Tell me everything.” I hiss.

“Everything?” Mark stammers. “About what?”

“About what!?!” Pure unadulterated shock and rage rush through my body. It is as if a gust of wind lifts me into mid-air…a flaming ball of anger. I find myself in our galley kitchen. “How about this??”

I yank the butcher knife out of its custom block. Mark jolts and leaps backward.

“Did he kill her with a knife like this!?!” I ask coolly. As cool as a homicidal maniac, I think to myself. “Or a knife like this? Or this one!” I belligerently jerk every knife out of the block and slam it on the counter. The volume of my voice steadily rises with each slam of a knife. Mark remains silent…a safe distance away. “Did he gut her with this knife? Stab her with this one! Huh? How did he do it??”

“Sari…Sari…” Tears fill Mark’s eyes as he tries to coax words up his throat and out of his mouth. Instead, he stands there choking on his lies.

“Speak! Goddamnit Mark.” I sigh. “I am Amanda Hayes. Amanda fucking Hayes. And you have known all along. Haven’t you? Haven’t you…you shit!” I demand my tear ducks to close. I force my eyes wide open. It is easy to ignore the stinging. I refuse to waste another tear on the likes of this guy.

Mark doesn’t move, not even a twitch. I lunge at him. My hands balled in fists of fury. I flail at him…my arms and legs ferociously propelling. I attack him with all of my might. I don’t have to dig deep for this violent charge. My father is Ed Hayes after all. I seethe at this thought. I grab fists of Mark’s hair and yank it. I want to hear him scream. I want to put in the exact same position I am…hurt and fear.

It takes Mark a few unsuccessful attempts to grab my wrists but he conquers. He forcefully pins me against the wall. He rubs his body up against mine to restrain me. I squirm, my wrath not yet finished.

“Shhhh….” Mark rests his head on my shoulder and sobs.

“Why? Why? Why Mark?” I give up, I remain still and I sob but I will not to rest my head on his shoulder. I will not give him my emotions.

“I was only trying to protect you.” His voice quivers. His tears drain on my shoulder.

“From what?” I gulp. “The fact that I am the flesh and blood of a murdered.”

“Yes.” Mark rubs his nose on my shoulder. He kisses my shoulder.

His scent is making me nauseous. His touch is making me dizzy. I retrieve power from my ‘power house,’ my legs, and cruelly heave him off of me. He lands on his ass and I listen for a crack…hoping it is tailbone. Nothing.

“Well, you can’t beat down DNA. Counsel, you should know better.” I stand over him and maintain his gaze for only a moment. This, I know, will be the last time I ever look into those deceitful eyes.

“Sari, please. You have to listen to me.” Mark pleads as he trails me into our bedroom. “Please don’t. You have to give me the chance to explain. You owe me that much.”

“I owe you. You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” I sneer and continue shoving anything of my mine in my wing span into a duffle bag. “You are Ed Hayes’ attorney! It’s pretty clear to me.”

“Yes, but….only so I could keep him in prison for LIFE!” Mark’s appearance turns even more disheveled as he realizes he has lost control of this entire situation. “I got the case 5 years ago. It was in my first pile of cases my first day on the job. Dan made a big deal about making sure Ed never saw the sun again. I was new, curious, young, whatever so I did what was I told. It’s a bizarre coincidence. When I met your aunt I recognized the name Clara Holland. That is when I pieced it all together. Aunt Clara begged me not to say anything.”

“Aunt Clara.” I freeze. My insides and all…immobilized. “You and Aunt Clara discussed this? Behind my back.”

“Yes.” Mark nods. He carefully approaches me. “You see Sari. I didn’t start this. She did.”

“Don’t you dare touch me!” I squint my eyes at him hoping to burn the grin off of his cowardly face. “Shame on you!”

I throw the overstuffed bag of my clothes and other necessities over my shoulder and coldly sidestep him. Without one single care for him in the world I head toward our door.

“Sari…listen to me. I am the one protecting you! You cannot leave!” He leaps in front of me, blocks me from exiting and tries to wrestle my bag out of my grasp. I hold my grip for dear life.

“You are not protecting me Mark! You are suppose to be the one person in this world I can trust and believe in. You have been lying to me! LYING TO ME!” I nearly lose my balance from our struggle. I catch a glimpse of my reflection in the foyer mirror. What is staring back at me is just a premeditated disguised. “I am an entirely different person. You knew! My father is not who I thought he was. YOU KNEW! My parents were murdered not killed in a car accident. YOU KNEW. You know everything. How could you keep this from me.” The air coming out of me is fiery hot like an enraged dragon. “Why won’t you tell me? Because Aunt Clara told you not too. That didn’t seem strange to you? I never would have kept this from you. I love you too…loved you too much to ever hurt you like this.” I pause to put my thoughts back on track. “So there is only one question I have to ask myself. What do you love more, me or the life we were destined to have?”

Mark’s lips part.

“Don’t you even think about answering you bastard. You already did. And now Ainslie and Clara are dead.” I bash my shoulder into his as I saunter past him. The slamming door announces my final exit from our condo and everything it symbolizes.

*****************************************************************************

Mark cradles his head in his hands. But only for a second. “This is not the way this ends”, he says under his breath. “Not on my watch. I deserve you Sari. I deserve our life. Yes, this is our destiny. I am correct.”

Mark stands upright and brushes the wrinkles out of his suit. He cracks his neck and embraces his dark side. He is out of options.

“Doug. This Mark from 3206. Make sure you find out where Sari is off too. Well she did enter the building and now she is leaving it. I want your best cabbies keeping tabs on her every move. Yes, call my cell.”

He calmly sets his phone down. He is done crying like a baby and wallowing in self-pity. In fact, he is slightly aroused by his and Sari’s passionate encounter. No two people would act so irrational if it weren’t true love. Mark feels a tingle in his pants.

A soothing hot shower should do. For now.

*********************************************************************************

NIP 17

Marcy will never forget the first time she met Sari Clarke. It felt like the wind had been knocked out of her. ‘What a surreal moment,’ remembers Marcy. Sari walked the most friendly of walks right up to Marcy. She extended her right hand to greet Marcy with her perfectly wide smile. Sari’s eyes shined like emeralds and in that moment Marcy knew she was face to face with Amanda Hayes. Those eyes, her beautiful blonde curls, her amazing soul. Marcy nearly fainted.

Could this all be a coincidence? Marcy stops fidgeting…completely.

*************************************************************************

Mark savors the burn of his scotch on the rocks with a twist from the darkness of his and Sari’s living room. He sits a disheveled mess. The day’s events have exhausted him…mentally, emotionally and physically. And from the looks of the TV it just got a whole hell of a lot worse.

He turns up the volume on the 50” flat screen TV. An engagement gift from Clara.

“In studio we have ABC’s very own Sari Clarke. Sari’s sister and aunt were victims of malicious crimes this every day which took their lives. We have the exclusive on this horrifying story straight from Sari herself.” Carol Jacobs pauses on cue. Dramatically she swivels her anchor chair to face Sari. “Sari, you are so brave and courageous to chase this story in the wake of this very personal tragedy.”

“Thank you Carol. I cannot imagine a tougher day. Yet, this experience has given me perspective on all viewers who have experienced this kind of loss and sadness. Like some of the victims I have interviewed I will stop at nothing to find the truth so my sister and my aunt may rest in peace.”

Mark rubs his forehead and takes sip of his scotch. Sari is unbelievably composed. Not one blonde curl is out of place. Mark observes his bride. Her strength is magic. It is as if she is reporting live from their living room speaking only to him. Mark is sure everyone watching this broadcast is having the same reaction. She is determined, alive and brilliant. Mark chugs his scotch wondering what breaking news she will reveal.

“I have uncovered facts indicating a man by the name of Ed Hayes was released from prison yesterday. Ed Hayes has not been in touch with his parole officer since his release.” A picture of Ed Hayes appears in the screen. “This is of interest because Ed Hayes was convicted of murdering my mother and father in 1983. All evidence points to Ed Hayes being responsible for the murders of my sister and my aunt. It is crucial that any information on Ed Hayes be given to the police. He is a dangerous man and needs to be removed from the streets of Chicago.”

Sari’s eyes are sparkly emeralds. Passion erupts from those beautiful eyes. Mark shakes off a chill.

“Is there anything else you know about Ed Hayes at this time?” Carol promptly asks.

“Ed Hayes was awarded the Police Officer of the Year Award in 1977. He rescued….”

Marks zones out what Sari is saying. He has heard all of this before. What else does she know? He begins to perspire. He cracks his neck. He would know how to respond if he knew what she knew! But he is too much of a coward to answer her calls. He doesn’t have the guts. Mark stands, stumbles to the bar and pours himself another scotch.

“SON OF A BITCH!” He yells as his glass smashes against the wall. His body crumples to the ground at the same speed of the scotch dripping down the wall.

**************************************************************************

“…my mother was in the fire.” A loud noise to the side of the stage steals my attention. I try to hide my gasp.

Detective Hughes is tearing through the studio. He is forcing his way through the crew. He is coming after me. Brad jumps in his way to stall him. I take zero chances.

“They married a short time after. This all we know now. Please report any information to the police. Thank you!” The words are rushed but the meaning is intact. Carol seems a tad startled by my haste but she is a professional and will cover it up effortlessly.

I dash off the opposite side of the stage. I know the ins and outs of this studio like the back of my hand. I could run through the halls with my eyes closed. My breathing is so heavy and I fear I will not hear the vicious footsteps behind me.

I make it to the building exit. The door flies open from my push. I run. I run north. I run north in high heels. I run north with stinging eyeballs. I run. I run as fast as I can. I run and run.

I don’t want to stop running. I don’t want to face this. I don’t want to be alone. If I stop running I will be alone. I can’t be alone nor can I be idle. I need to think. I need to a plan. I need to digest this information.

I run. Ed Hayes. Amanda Hayes. I didn’t report this info because I am not sure what it all means. Evan Clarke is Ainslie and Lizi’s father but not mine. Perhaps there is a chance this all a mix up. Why lie?

LIZI!

“Shit.” I plant my feet. I dial Lizi as I recite the Lord’s Prayer. Who knew I still remembered it. Surely this will award me brownie points in my hour of need.

“Lizi! CALL ME!” I hang up. Frustrated. Crushed.

I run.

Home.

I sneak past Doug, the doorman, I can’t talk. I stand silent in the elevator. I am alone but the silence is evident. My mind has quieted.

I unlock the door to mine and Mark’s condo. With my head down, I walk into my home longing for my bed. I want to crawl on my bed and hide…if only for a minute.

“Sari!” Mark’s silhouette rattles me to my core.

I plunge to the ground in uncontrollable sobs.

“Oh baby. You’re home now. You are home. With me. I gotcha’ya.” Mark wraps his arms around Sari. He tries with all of his might to melt his body into hers. “I love you sweetie.”

“Get the FUCK off of me!” I violently convulse causing him to lose his hold on me.

NIP 16

“Stop. This can’t be right. My parents were killed in a car accident.” I mutter. “In 1983.”

“Was your father’s name Evan?” slowly inquires Brad.

“Yes.” I whimper.

“Sari.” Brad kneels down. We are face to face. “It appears you have been lied to.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. You nutjobs have been watching too much boob tube.” Sam looks at us like we have lost it.

“Sam, enough of your mouth.” Snaps Brad annoyed at Sam’s interruption. “This is serious.”

“I’m just sayin’.” Sam rolls his eyes. “I mean what the fuck…Sari’s whole life is a lie. Come on. That’s whack.”

“We are going on the air with this.” To my surprise, my voice is flawless. I am calm. “I am calling William.” I am white as a ghost but makeup will conceal my horror. I am confident my pissed off producer will be convinced once I give him the facts of this case. I am the exclusive.

My whole life has been a lie. A lie to protect me from what…a homicidal father? I shiver. My father is Ed Hayes not Evan Clarke. What??? I cannot comprehend this. And I am so sick of trying. The lump in my stomach is becoming bothersome. My heart I numb, my soul blank. From this point forward all I can do is vow to get this story. I am out of emotions. Please let me be out of emotions.

“Hold up before you going running to your producer. I’m checking in with the station to figure out where Ed Hayes is.” Brad runs his fingers through his light hair. For the first time I notice how nicely it waves.

“Good idea detective.” Sam is purposely being snarky. “Details.”

“Sam, do you not see these facts right in front of your face?” I question. “This is your wet dream.”

“Sari, not at your expense it’s not.” Sam says with true compassion in his eyes. I’m genuinely touched.

“Thank you.” I whisper.

“Ya need to call Mark. Find out what stepdaddy has been hiding.” Sam hops onboard.

“Yes I do. It is strange he never mentioned it, right?” It’s more of a rhetorical question. “I mean, he may not have recognized me but he surely recognized Aunt Clara.”

My palms sweat knowing my dear Aunt is somehow party to all of this. Like Sam said, at my expense. But why, Aunt Clara, why? I guess I’ll never know since you have been silenced forever.

“Mark, it’s me. Call me. You are not going to believe what I found. It’s unbearable…it’s…oh Mark. Please call me. I need to talk to your stepfather. I love you.” No answer.

“Sari…” I turn to face a breathless Brad.

“What?” My facial muscles brace to keep a straight face. Because good news is not written all over Brad’s face….quite the contrary.

“Ed Hayes was released from prison yesterday.” Brad pauses for my reaction. I give nothing. “He has not reported to PO.”

“Holy shit.” Quickly escapes Sam’s mouth.

“Oh my god. This is really happening.” I try not to panic. I will not. “This is real. Did Mark’s stepfather know?”

“Sari, you know Dan Stanley is retired.” Brad speaks with caution.

“Oh right…” Finally…a sigh of relief.

“Mark is Ed Hayes’ attorney of record.” Brad clicks his tongue.

The vein in my forehead pulsates.

“Whhhhh…” My lips freeze unable to make words.

******************************************************************************

Marcy rubs her eyebrows. Sari is calling. Marcy cannot bring herself to answer her call. Mark is not in the office and Marcy cannot fathom talking to Sari right now. Poor Sari losing her sister and aunt. Marcy rapidly taps her right index finger on the desk.

Marcy presses her shoulders back and sits upright. Courage. Trust. There is no way on earth Ed Hayes is responsible for this. Impossible. She exhales.

Her shoulders once again slump forward. She inhales and slowly releases. Ed was supposed to come straight to her house after being released from prison yesterday. The tickets to Maine are still laying dormant on her dresser. That was their plan…runaway to their happy ending. They discussed it just 2 days ago. Well, actually, they have been discussing it for the last 15 years. So why didn’t he show? Marcy’s left foot quickly taps the floor. Ed is not responsible for this. There is no way.

Marcy was Dan Stanley’s legal secretary before she was Marks. It was sheer luck that Mark was given Ed’s case. Marcy was so happy when she found out. She skipped the entire way to the prison visiting room. Making routine monthly client notes was the only way she could visit Ed. Ed was elated as well. She’ll never forget how his eyes twinkled like emeralds when he saw her through the plastic partition.

‘Ed loves me.’ Marcy sighs. ‘How can this be happening? Where are you?’ Marcy is trying her best to keep it together. She would lose her job if anyone knew she had an intimate affair with a jailed client. But it is worth the risk, she loves him too. This is not an affair! This is a relationship. She longs for him in her bed. His touch, his kisses, his embrace. She has patiently and faithfully waited all of these years for him.

Marcy believes Ed, believes in him. He did not murder Sarah or Evan. It’s true, the circumstantial evidence was convincing but Marcy can read Ed’s soul. The murders were so brutal only true passion could be the motive. Ed did not have true passion for Sarah at the time for her death. He never did.

Sarah was in love with Ed and she was devastated by their split. Not the other way around. Ed said it was a typical hero/victim saga. He saved Sarah’s life and no woman could resist that kind of romance.

Ed, on the other hand, did enjoy her praise and servitude but after awhile it grew tiresome. He wanted to be challenged. He wanted to be aroused. He wanted his life back. But he also wanted his daughter, Amanda. Sarah made damn sure Ed would not get what he wanted. If Sarah had to suffer then so would Ed. Herein lies the drama leading up to the time of Sarah’s murder.

Marcy will never forget the first time she met Sari Clarke. It felt like the wind had been knocked out of her. 'What a surreal moment,' remembers Marcy. Sari walked the most friendly of walks right up to Marcy. She extended her right hand to greet Marcy with her perfectly wide smile. Sari’s eyes shined like emeralds and in that moment Marcy knew she was face to face with Amanda Hayes. Those eyes, her beautiful blonde curls, her amazing soul. Marcy nearly fainted.

Could this all be a coincidence? Marcy stops fidgeting...completely.

*************************************************************************

“No.” I read and reread and reread and reread the wedding announcement and photo staring back at me.

‘Sarah Jane Holland married Ed Hayes in a small ceremony outside of the City of Chicago. The Chicago Police Commissioner was in attendance as Ed Hayes was the recipient of the 1977 Police Officer of the Year award. Both sides of the couples’ family joined the celebration as well as the couples’ young daughter, Amanda Rose Hayes.’

Under the photo the caption reads, ‘The couple and their 6 month old daughter.’

“Oh my god. I’m Amanda.” My heart stops beating. My breath is still. I am motionless but for a tiny shift of my gaze to Brad. My eyes beg him for answers, reassurance, doubt, proof…help.

“Hold on Sari.” Brad paces. His mind is working at warp speed. “We need more facts.”

“Fact…I was born in March of ’79.” I respond without hesitation. “I would have been 6 months old in August.”

“Sam, run another search. Let’s find out if Ed Hayes has children with any other women.” Brad immediately starts his investigation.

“Alrighty. I am putting in Ed Hayes, Police Officer of the Year 1977, marriage.” I am literally on the edge of my seat when Sam hits the enter button. Once again, my fate lies in the progress of the growing green bar on the screen.

“Holy shit!” Sam calls out with wide eyes.

“Oh! My! God!” My stomach flips. Acid climbs up my esophagus. I’m going to be sick. Ohmigod… The burn increases in intensity. I bend at my waist and hang my head inches from the floor.

“Oh shit.” Brad sighs. I am certain I can hear the wheels of his mind churning. He places his hand on my back. “Sari, you okay?”

“NO!” I shout. “NO!” I stomp my feet. Behind my closed eyes I see the visual of the computer screen now and forever burned on my brain.

1977 Police of the Year arrested for the murder of the woman he rescued.

Ed Hayes arrested for the murder of his ex-wife and her husband.

Ed Hayes sentenced to life in prison for murder of his ex-wife and her husband.

Celebrated Cop Ed Hayes to send life in prison for murder.

“Hey hun. You need to sit up and read this.” Sam’s tone is empathic.

“Sari you don’t have to if you are not ready.” Brad gruffly counters.

“I’m ready.” I sit up with an exhale. My stomach has settled…for now. I look to the screen and begin my quest for the truth.

Ed Hayes was awarded the 1977 Police Officer of the Year award for rescuing 14 people from the massive Post Office fire that same year. One of the rescuees was Sarah Jane Holland. Sarah and Ed married 6 months after the birth of their daughter, Amanda, in 1979. There marriage was short-lived. Sarah remarried Evan Clarke in early 1981. Evan and Sarah had 2 daughters together, Ainslie and Elizabeth.

In what appears to be a crime of passion, Ed Hayes brutally stabbed to death Sarah and Evan on July 23, 1983.

Ed Hayes was defended by Dan Stanley of the Cook County Defense Office. The murder weapon was never found. However, the prosecution built a rock solid circumstantial case against Ed Hayes. Clara Holland, the victim’s sister, was instrumental in the verdict.

Ed Hayes has been sentenced to life in prison with an opportunity for parole in 20 years.

“Dan Stanley.” I say out loud as I read his name. Dan Stanley. I run my fingers through my hair. “DAN STANLEY!”

“Sari…you are freaking me out again. What the fuck is going on?” Sam quickly pushes his rolling chair away from the computer screen as if sitting there puts him in danger.

“Dan Stanley is Mark’s stepfather.” I say flatly. My body wants to shiver but a surge of anger runs through me. I wonder if my clothes will rip off of me like the Hulk.

“Okay…hold on…calm down Sari.” Brad is staring directly at the pulsing vein in my forehead. “Let’s make a list of what we know before we make any...any…assumptions.”

“Plan.” Sam agrees. He has never said so few words.

“Ed Hayes married your mother.” Brad begins to jot down the facts. “They had a daughter together named Amanda. This baby must have been born in March of 1979. Ed and Sarah divorced. Sarah remarried Evan Clarke. They had 2 daughters. Ed murdered Sarah and Eva….”

“Stop. This can’t be right. My parents were killed in a car accident.” I mutter. “In 1983.”

“Was your father’s name Evan?” slowly inquires Brad.

“Yes.” I whimper.

“Sari.” Brad kneels down. We are face to face. “It appears you have been lied to.”

NIP 14

An irksome vibe settles on Mark. Why would Marcy resist locating Ed Hayes’ file? She always does as she is told without question or comment.

Mark cracks his neck. He is obviously being paranoid. His next phone call will help to calm his nerves.

“Sam, it’s me. I know you know what is happening. Call me back. I need your help.”
Mark flips his phone shut. He hurls it as hard as he can against the dashboard.

“FUUUCK!” His screams until his throat is raw.

*******************************************************************

“Alright, Sam is meeting us in the ABC research lab.” I announce as I place my phone in my lap.

“Sam?” questions Brad.

Brad is driving at full speed down 1-94 towards the city. The blaring sirens of the cop car keep the horrible events of the day fresh in my mind. We are racing to my office to use the research computers to look up August 11, 1979. This is our only substantial clue. And my instincts tell me this is the clue we need to start piecing all of this terror together.

“Yeah, Sam. I’m going on the air.” I say with a raise of my eyebrow.

“What!?! Sari, come on.” Scolds Brad.

“Brad…” I whine.

“Don’t Brad me. You will be placing yourself in serious danger.”

“No, he did that…not me. This piece of shit slaughtering my family put me in danger. And you know what Brad…I’m not scared of him. Come and get me.” My arms folded across my chest illustrate I am not as tough as I want to seem.

“Sari…”

“Don’t you see Brad. Once we lure him we got him.” Jeez, I should be the detective.

“Oh christ.” Sighs Brad. “This is not a TV show Sari. There is no script. I cannot risk putting you in that kind of a danger. You are not an undercover cop. You cannot be bait.”

“Yes I can.” I smirk. And I will.

“Shit. It could work. Ah crap Sari. Detective Hughes is going to have a heart attack. Literally.” Brad swallows hard. “You’ll be glad to know Hughes assigned an officer to Lizi. He’s on his way to her now. But here’s the kicker…Hughes is demanding I take you straight to the station. And this cop car we jacked.”

“No!” I panic. “Brad I need to do this…”

“Hey…chill…okay. I swear Sari Clarke, for no one other than you would I put my job on the line like this.” Brad winks. He never intended on following Detective Hughes orders.

“Thanks!” I smile. An actual real smile. “We are going to get this guy.”

“We better if we want to stay out of the slammer.” Brad clicks his tongue on his teeth. Do I detect a nervous fidget? Does Detective Brad Callahan get nervous?

*********************************************************************

“Miss Clarke!” Frank frantically runs over to us as we enter the ABC building.

“Frank. Hi.” I attempt to be polite even though I am in a mad rush to meet Sam in the research lab.

“I’m devastated to hear about your sister.” Frank takes my hand. “As are so many others.”

“What?” I’m confused.

“You have received so many letters. I’m sure they are all sympathy cards.” Frank saunters behind the doorman desk and hands me three bundles of letters and one small box.

“Wow. Thank you.” My heart skips a beat. How thoughtful.

“I’ll take those.” Before I get even one finger on the letters Brad snatches them from Frank. I furrow my burrow. “We have to be extra cautious until we know more.”

“Right.” I could be in danger. “Frank, please hold onto these for now. Do you mind?”

“Of course not Miss Clarke. Again, I am so very sorry for your loss.” Frank nearly bows before walking away. A gentleman through and through. Something about his presence puts me at ease and I truly feel better.

Brad and I stand toe-tapping in the elevator as it crawls to the 59th floor. Ding! Finally.

We tear out of the elevator to the research lab. It’s empty except for Sam. Thank goodness.

“Hey you two.” Sam gestures for us to have a seat next to him. “I heard rumblings of a murder possibly connected to Ainslie’s. Is this true?”

“It is.” I say. Brad opens his mouth to shush me but he is too slow. “And once we undercover some facts we are going live.”

“What?” Sam’s expression is more of excitement than confusion.

“Yep. You and I are breaking the story. Live if they let us…otherwise we’ll tape the segment.” I clarify. “We’ll sneak it on if we have too.”

“You got more balls than I ever gave you credit for hun.” Smirks Sam.

“Okay, okay, enough. Let’s dig up August 11, 1979 and see what we can find.” Brad nudges us back on track.

“Alrighty…August 11, 1979.” Sam says it as he types it. “Give me more. A name?”

“Sure. Sarah Jane Clarke. Wait, her maiden name. Holland. Sarah Jane Holland.” I offer.

The room is stale and cold. We sit motionless for what seems likes minutes as the data is retrieved.

My eyes are glued to the computer screen. I chew on both of my thumbnails. I breathe fast and heavy out of my nose.

The processing bar is nearing the end. The entire bar turns green and, at last, the information pops on the screen.

“WHAT!” My hands slam on the desk propelling my face as close to the screen as possible.

“Did you know about this?” softly but with concern probes Brad.

“No.” I read and reread and reread and reread the wedding announcement and photo staring back at me.

‘Sarah Jane Holland married Ed Hayes in a small ceremony outside of the City of Chicago. The Chicago Police Commissioner, Thomas Weiss, was in attendance as Ed Hayes was the recipient of the 1977 Police Officer of the Year award. Both sides of the couples’ family joined the celebration as well as the couples’ young daughter, Amanda Rose Hayes.’

Under the photo the caption reads, ‘The couple and their 6 month old daughter.’

“Oh my god. I’m Amanda.” My heart stops beating. My breath is still. I am motionless but for a tiny shift of my gaze to Brad. My eyes beg him for answers, reassurance, doubt, proof…help

NIP 13

“No…no. I was born in ’79. But that is the only….” I pause. I am breathing so hard. The sight of my chest raising and lowering has a meditative effect on me. I stare at the picture. I focus on the baby.

“Sari?” Brad gently says my name to get my attention.

“It’s another baby. My mom had another baby?” My mouth asks a question but my mind is sure.

“There is only one way to find out.” States Brad with very little reaction to my revelation.

******************************************************************************

Mark drives his late model Honda Accord 110 miles per hour east on I-94. The car rattles from the dangerous speed. Sweat rolls down his clenched jaw. He loosens his tie for air. Even then he still feels he is suffocating. His whole world is about to come crashing down around him. He cannot let this happen. He will not.

Ainslie and Clara are unfortunate causalities but he thinks he can conceal the truth behind their deaths. Sari is all that matters to him. He loves her beyond true love. They have everything they have ever dreamed of and together they will their desired future.

Damn Detective Brad Callahan. Mark sighs. His foot presses hard on the gas pedal. The speed is his release. Brad is planting seeds in Sari’s head. Mark’s stepfather warned him about cops. They are fucks, his stepfather would say. Cops will shit on whoever whenever just to get what they want. Brad Callahan is surely no exception. He has wanted Sari since the day they met. Mark is certain of this. You lose Brad, Mark giggles menacingly to himself, my office trumps your badge any day of the fucking week.

The downtown skyline comes into Mark’s view. He holds his own stare in the rearview mirror. “Think! Think you jackass! Think!” he yells. His stomach is in knots trying to figure out his next move. He reaches into his suit jacket for his cell phone. There is only one person to call. Make that two people. Marcy first.

“Marce, thank god you are there.” Mark suddenly feels a sense of control. “Yes, it’s horrific. Listen….Marcy please stop talking. It is awful. I know. But I need you to… Marcy, shut your face! I need you dig up Ed Hayes’ file. All of it. Why???? WHY??? Because I said so. Just do it! I don’t care where it is or how long it is going to take you. Get it done!”

An irksome vibe settles on Mark. Why would Marcy resist locating Ed Hayes’ file? She always does as she is told without question or comment.

Mark cracks his neck. He is obviously being paranoid. His next phone call will help to calm his nerves.

“Dan, it’s me. I know you know what is happening. Call me back. I need your help.” Mark flips his phone shut. He hurls it as hard as he can against the dashboard.

“FUUUCK!” His screams until his throat is raw.

**********************************************************************

NIP 12

Lizi! I scramble for my phone. No calls. Lizi has not called me back. I jump off my bed. Shit! My hands violently shudder as I dial Lizi’s number. It’s ringing. Answer! Answer!

“Sari.” Lizi whimpers on the other line. Yes, she answered. My tense body lets lose.

“Lizi, thank god, where are you?”

“Is it true?” Lizi’s voice is so small. My heart drops to my stomach.

“It’s true.” I rub my forehead and fight back my tears. “Ainslie is gone. I am so sorry Lizi. I want to be with you. Where are you?”

“I’m working.” Lizi sniffles and then as if she sniffled up her sadness her voice becomes strong. “I’m training. I’m just going to keep training.”

“Are you okay Lizi?” My eyes wander across my room to a picture of Lizi on my desk. Lively Lizi. Laughing Lizi. Larger than life Lizi.

“Fine. Sari, I’m fine.” Lizi softly cries. “Please Sari, can we talk about this later. I don’t get this. I don’t want to get this. Not now.”

“I don’t get it either.” A tear rolls down my cheek. I will not tell her about Aunt Clara over the phone, I can’t. “Go to my condo. I’ll be there soon.”

“I’m going to finish my session. I just….just…I gotta keep moving. I don’t want to be alone. My client has been really comforting.” Lizi takes a deep breath. “Which caught me off guard because he seems like a total meathead. You should see his tattoos….naked ladies and lips near you know where that say ‘kiss me’. Is it wrong of me to giggle? I don’t know what to feel. It doesn’t seem real to me.”

“Feel whatever you want Lizi. Ainslie loves you. You are the one who makes us laugh during hard times. For what it’s worth you made me smile.” And you have no idea how awful this day has truly been.

“Good. I guess.” I can hear her shrug her shoulders.

“Get to my house as soon as you can. And stay next to your phone. I love you.”

“I love you too Sari.” Lizi hangs up.

We have each other. This gives me hope. Hope for what, I do not know. Healing? Family? Turning back time? Truth?

“Was that Lizi?” I look up and see Brad leaning against my bedroom door. I nod ‘yes’ and fall backwards onto my fluffy, pink bed. I lay on back staring at the cotton candy pink ceiling as the tears stream down my face and puddle in my ears.

“We need to get an officer on her. Until we figure out what is going on we have to suspect you both are in danger.” Acknowledges Brad as any good detective would.

My body shudders at his words. I shake my head back, forth and diagonally. I look to him out of the corner of my eye. ‘I know.’ I sadly think to myself. ‘I know. Goddamnit. What is going on?’ More tears pour into my eyes.

Brad lays down next me. He takes my hand in his. He squeezes it. I want to squeeze back but I don’t. I don’t even want to move.

“You are doing great Sari. You will get through this. I know you will.” He whispers.

“Really?” Our faces are inches apart. My heart hurts and my eyes sting. He slowly and deliberately reaches out to wipe my tears. I have a bottomless pit of tears. “I’m so tired.”

“I know. Stay with me. Let’s fight.” His light eyes are so encouraging. I close my swollen eyes, quietly recite his words and beg myself to get it together.

“Where is Mark?” Mark has the magic touch when it comes to awaking my hidden superhero.

“He left.” Brad says flatly as his eyes shift to what appears to be disappointment. Or is it anger?

“Where did he go?” Like a puppet on a string, I hurl myself upright. He left? Without saying goodbye? Ugh.

“Said he had a client to see or some crap. Sari, I think he knows something.” Brad adds cautiously.

“What?” I sigh out of my nose and it sounds a little like a laugh. “Knows what?”

“He’s hiding something. I just know it.” Brad’s expression is tense.

“No way!” I jump off the bed. Brad is being absurd. “Why? Why in the world would you ever say such a thing?”

“My gut. My gut is never wrong. I know it is hard to hear but…”

“No buts Brad. Okay? Your gut!?! Just please stop. Mark and Aunt Clara are very close. That is why he was here. Nothing else to report.” My sneer lets him know to drop it. The subject is closed. “Aunt Clara. Please tell me she is okay. She is, right?”

“It’s not good.” Brad bites his lower lip. He doesn’t have to say, it is written all over his face.

“No.” I bury my face in my hands. “No. No.” My body violently convulses. I have to get this feeling off me. This cannot be real. Aunt Clara is dead. Oh my god! Why? “NO!”

Brad grabs me and hugs me tightly. “I’m so sorry. We did everything we could.”

“Well it’s not enough!” With all of my might I push Brad off of me. I dry my face with the back of my hands. No more tears. “You’ve done shit detective! Oh wait…you accused my fiancé of nothing. Nice work.”

“Stop it! Stop it Sari. Be careful.” Warns Brad without meeting my level of rage. Meet my level of rage Brad…I am daring you! I want to explode. I need to explode. I need to EXPLODE!

“AAAAAHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!” I ram my fist into my closet door. And then smack the palm of my hands against the door over and over. I grit my teeth. I thrust my foot into the door. I kick it! I bash it in. I kick, I slap, I scream. “AAAAHHHHH!!!!”

A sense of calm begins replace my rage. I step back and run my fingers through my hair. I taste my dripping sweat and take in the damage. Only shreds of my closet door hang from the hinges. “Shit.” I breathe slowly. “Shit.”

“Feel better?” asks Brad. I gradually turn to face him. Half embarrassed, half refreshed. “You needed that.”

Without making eye contact I nod to thank him for letting me off the hook. My heart rate decreases. Brad’s right, I needed that.

“Come here. I need to show you this.” Brad has a tattered photograph in his hand. It’s the one he found on Mark.

I calmly sit down next to Brad. I take the photo out of his hand.

“Do you recognize any of these people?”

My eyes immediately lock on my mom. The young and beautiful Sarah Jane Clarke. Her blonde hair is long and straight in that typical 70’s do. I have a quick internal giggle knowing her hair was actually as curly as mine. She ironed it this straight! It is one of my only memories of her. I only knew her this way…young. The chance to age was stolen from her. And now Ainslie…

I stay strong as I scan the others in the photo. She is with a man, a good looking man with a warm smile. I have never seen this man before. And a baby. I cannot tell if the day is a boy or girl. The picture has faded so even the color of clothes does not provide any clue. There is no doubt in my mind…this is a family picture. I look up to Brad for answers. Whose family?

“It’s dated.” He flips the picture over. “August 11, 1979.”

“This woman is my mother. I am sure of it. But this man is not my father.” I am so confused. My heart picks up the pace and blood rushes through my veins.

“What about the date. Does this date mean anything to you?”

“No…no. I was born in ’79. But that is the only….” I pause. I am breathing so hard. The sight of my chest raising and lowering has a meditative effect on me. I stare at the picture. I focus on the baby.

“Sari?” Brad gently says my name to get my attention.

“It’s another baby. My mom had another baby?” My mouth asks a question but my mind is sure.

“There is only one way to find out.” States Brad with very little reaction to my revelation.