Brad holds up a battered envelope. Amanda Hayes is written on the outside of the envelope. It is sealed. I snatch the envelope out of Brad’s hand. Without thought, I tear it open.
“Dear Amanda.” I evenly read aloud. “I love you so much my sweet baby girl. The only lesson I am able to teach you is this-Life is not always as it seems. I will live out my days missing you and wishing we had a much different ending. Please know in your heart I did not murder your mother and step-father. You will read articles and encounter people who will try to tell you otherwise. I am being punished for this crime and I chose this fate. I chose this fate to keep you safe and make this nightmare end. If you ever want to know me please come find me. I will always welcome you. This is your decision my sweet. I will wake every morning hoping to see you again and be given your understanding and love. When the time is right I will explain all of this to you my love. I love you with all my heart and soul. Your father, Ed.”
My lips rest. My eyes stay on my father’s cursive handwriting. Most father’s handwriting is so familiar to their children but not in my case. A tear threatens to escape down my cheek. I inhale…deeply, violently, mystified.
****************************************************************************
Oh Marcy. I am so sorry. You were the most wonderful person I ever knew. You didn’t deserve this! I choke on my tears. Rage consumes me. I sit helpless and pathetic tied to this chair. It is pitch black except for the TV inches from me…my only friend. My enemy.
This nightmare has been silent for hours now. I have no hope. This is nothing but the calm before the storm. Oh Amanda, where are you? Are you safe?
“You’re a prick baby.” His gruff and gruesome voice announces his presence. “Cry prick baby.”
“Fuck off.” Defiance is my new weapon. I have played along for years…for decades…and I am done.
“Ahh…acceptance of your situation. Nice.” His smirk is disgusting. My muscles flex under these ropes. I grit my teeth and fight the pain trying to break free. “Ha. Ha. Weak. Weak. Weak. You are weak.”
“Oh no. You are a weak piece of shit!” I spit in his face. He lunges forward. My face stings from his powerful strike. I taste blood.
“Like that!” His eyes are wild with lunacy. “Want more?!?”
“I kept your secrets and lies all of these years. So why…why now are you eliminating everyone in my life.” I roll my tongue over my teeth to ensure he did not knock any out.
“In your life. HA! What life? Please. Spare me the psycho babble. You know exactly who I am and what I am capable of.” He hisses.
“Bravo. Bravo.” My blood boils. I switch tactics. I need to get to his level in order to reserve manipulate. This man has turned being a sociopath into an art form. I must think faster on my feet to outsmart this fucker.
“Alright. I’ll bite. I’ll tell you everything. You’re dead anyway.” He nonchalantly crouches next me. His vicious energy penetrates my skin. His breath burns my nostrils. “Too many connections threaten my secret. How was I to ever predict Sari Clarke would get so close to me.?. Ha. Fuckin’ funny! And thus…everyone near it...near me must be removed. I’ve made it this far. And I REFUSE to lose.”
“Asshole!” My veins pump thick out of my neck. I lose my cool. Amanda cannot be punished for any of this…a mere coincidence. I scream until my throat is raw. “You win! You win! You win! You win! You always have. You are a sick bastard. You are as twisted as those you put in prison.”
“Nah.” To my dismay, he is cool as a cucumber. “I get shit done.”
He coolly saunters out in the footsteps he entered. With a sinister hiss he says, “Don’t take your eyes of that screen. Breaking news…BAM!”
His menacing snigger echoes his departure.
**************************************************************************
My fingers anxiously fumble sorting through thousands of photos, letters, memos, magnets and scraps of paper. The tips of them are raw. We have been edgily hunkered down over these boxes for hours. Countless hours. All contents are haphazardly strewn about. I no longer have any desire to leave Aunt Clara’s personal effects in tact. I tender the same respect for her items as she has my life.
“Sar, slow down.” Brad sympathetically rests his hands on my knotted shoulders. “Let’s take a break.”
“Can’t. Won’t. Ed is innocent. I can’t fucking believe this.” I pant. I rant. “Aunt Clara is somehow responsible for all of this. My gut knows it. Look at all this crap! Who in the world has this much compiled junk? She is hiding something! She is destroying my family. Has destroyed…”
“My gut is not so sure.” Brad swallows in trepidation.
I aggressively pivot shocked.
“Are you having temporary memory loss???” My pitch is piled high with derision.
Brad composedly clears his throat.
“That letter from Ed was unopened. Consider this…if she was behind all of this then she would have read the letter and then burned it. She would have disposed of all the evidence of betrayal and admission of innocence and/or guilt. Follow me? She didn’t know. She thought Ed was guilty. I am sure of it.” With renewed determination Brad kneels before a box, his eyes spotlight its contents as his theory uninvitedly forces its way into my thought process. “She was saving that letter for you.”
“She never gave it to me!” I am indignant. My fingers stiffened into fists. I bang on the mound of boxes in my wingspan.
“There is more to story. We’ll find it.” Brad’s eyes are kind. They are begging for my patience and cooperation. “We’ll find it.”
I defiantly say nothing and resume my tireless dig. I belligerently sigh with a juvenile roll of my eyes. I catch a glimpse of fanned photo albums fallen from the pile of boxes I knocked over. I free one album. The album is dated 1973. I toss it to the side. I pick up another album…it is dated 1974. And 1975. And 1976. And 1977.
“Brad…look.” I confidently present the albums. This is it. I know it. I feel it. I am sure. I found it! I have no words to express my triumph.
“Holy shit. Open them!” His face eagerly lights up.
I push our search debris aside. I conscientiously lay out the 1979 album. The year I was born. Cheek to cheek we impatiently hover over each page of the album. The photographs are dingy and yellow. The people look like they are dressed in costumes. Even my mother and aunt are barely recognizable to me with outdated hairstyles and fashion.
“There’s Ed!” I shriek. Ed is leaning against a blue Volkswagen Bug. His emerald eyes caught my attention…despite the photo’s distortion they remain so green. Just like mine. His hair is tossled. His smile is magnificent. The corners of my mouth involuntarily try to turn up.
“Yes!” Brad nearly applauds. “We got it. We are on track now. Is this Aunt Clara?” Brad points to a picture of my Aunt sitting on some guy’s lap. The photo gives off a promiscuous vibe. Something strikes me as odd about this picture.
“Yeah, that’s her. But something is off.” To get a closer look I slip the photo out of its cover. The photo is so small. Much smaller than even a 3”x 5”. I zoom in on my Aunt. What is weird about this photo of her? My vision pans left on the man. I prickle. That’s it. “This guy is familiar.”
“Really? Who is he?” Brad asks.
I shrug.
Brad takes the photo out of my hand. His fingers graze mine and the electricity is palpable. “Whoa!”
“What?” I attempt to regain composure quickly as if Brad can read my thoughts. He didn’t…right?
“Sari.” Brad uneasily murmurs. “This is Hughes.” His dilated pupils swallow up his hazel irises. My stunned reflection is staring back at me.
“Did you say Hughes?” I stutter. Neither of us blink.
“Yes. Detective Hughes.” Brad’s straight face is as smooth as a 10 year old boy.
‘Glamourous. G.L.A.M…” Fergie is announcing a text from Lizi. Without hesitation I snatch my phone out of my back pocket.
Message 1
FROM: Lizi
Sounds great sis. I could use a twirl. C U soon.
“Wha…” My mouth agape. “See you soon. What is….why? What?” My forehead crinkles in utter confusion.
“Did you text her?” Brad harmonizes my perplexity. “Is she coming here?”
“No.” The panic launches in the tips of my toes. “I didn’t. Who is she responding to? Who is she meeting?”
Monday, November 30, 2009
Sunday, November 22, 2009
NIP 27
“Ha. Cute. No. He keeps calling your mom a ‘cop fucker.’ So it seems Ed Hayes was not the only cop she had a thing for or possibly with.” Brad clicks his tongue as punctuation. “And he keeps talking about Dan. His stepfather knows something. He is in deep. I promise you.”
“Shit.” I say blankly. Again.
“Clara must have some old photos or some effects from your mother. We need to dig up your mother’s past. Our answers can only come from her.” Brad is so sure of himself. I am sure of nothing.
**************************************************************************
Although we are convinced we are doing the right thing we decide to discreetly park the car three blocks from Aunt Clara’s house. I secretly wish I was wearing running shoes in case we have to book it out of there. At this point I only plan for the worst possible scenario.
We attempt to move unseen so we creep along the bushes curving up around Aunt Clara’s house. I present my house key. I briefly pause before handing it to Brad. Suddenly I am bit nervous about what we will find inside. I have not been here since I saw my wonderful Aunt bloody on her kitchen floor. What if the cops turned the place upside down? What if this house no longer feels like the safe haven I grew up in? What if Aunt Clara is to blame for all of this? What is my room has been ransacked? What if Ainslie’s or Lizi’s room is…LIZI.
“Brad.” I whisper as he turns the key in the backdoor. “I have to call Lizi.”
“Hold on. Let’s get inside.” He pushes the door open.
I hold my breath. I squeeze my eyes shut. I summon strength. Go inside. Go inside and find your truth…whatever it may be.
I seize Brad’s hand. He accepts and takes my hand. He cradles it. We stand still in the kitchen and assess the situation we have intentionally place ourselves in. The floor has an outline of Aunt Clara’s body. Chills race up my spine. Although, this seems to be the worst of the police activity left behind. Thank goodness. I can’t bare anymore destruction at this point. As I think this I know it is only wishful thinking.
“Okay. They left her house intact.” Brad sighs with relief. “This is good because we are one step ahead of them. Or whoever is playing this game.”
I stare blankly. This blank look has become synonymous with my face.
“Meaning…it is unlikely that Aunt Clara’s belongings have been touched and if there is anything to find connecting Clara and/or your mother to this then we will find it…first.” Brad’s eyebrows rise in satisfaction.
“Ugh. I feel like I am in a movie.” My stomach churns.
“Ahhh yeah you are little lady. Write this down and I pretty much guarantee you can get Bradley Cooper to play me.” Brad winks.
“Stop it!” I silence my giggles. “You are distracting me. I’m fidgety and nervous…I cannot laugh right now.”
“Okay.” Brad pushes my curls behind my ear with a half grin. “Where does Clara keep her personal effects? Does she have a file cabinet? An office?”
“Yes. She has an office. Let’s start there. I rarely ever went there so I have no idea where to start looking for secrets and lies.” I recall. “Oh and she also has a few stashed boxes in the back of her closet.”
On tiptoes I guide Brad to Aunt Clara’s office. It seems dead. Lifeless. It is true, I rarely spent time in here. This was Aunt Clara’s solitude. Her alone. Her thinking space. Perhaps her hiding place?
The walls are lined with book shelves making it feel uncomfortably small for more than one occupant. Brad and I accidently elbow each other with even the slightest budge. I nearly jump out of my skin. Every bump startles me. I am edgy.
“Was she a horder?” Brad asks as he scans the stacks of papers, books, photos, random items. “Pet rocks?”
“Yeah.” I don’t fight my smile. “I gave her all of these. It was our thing.”
“Oh. Maybe I should consider this as evidence before I get involved with you?” Brad teases. God, he looks handsome in every light but I can’t help but notice especially so in this eerie and shadowy setting.
“Stop it!” I giggle and press my body up against his. “Although detective I may have cracked your code? You want to date me.”
“When you stand this close to me I cannot deny the charges.” I feel his cheeks heat up. Brad is certainly turned on by me. However, the romance is lost in my laughter. “Okay…back up. He’s gone. You shunned him and he left.”
I laugh so hard I actually lose my balance. I catch my fall on Aunt Clara’s desk. I crash down hard causing her left lower drawer to pop open.
“Let’s start here.” Brad reaches down into the drawer with a target in mind. “I spy a lock.”
Brad’s dig reveals a shiny metal lock box. Lock being the operative word.
“I’ll find the key.” I immediately offer and begin searching through Aunt Clara’s middle desk drawer. My fingers fumble over pens, tacks, rubber bands, paper clips…everything but a key.
“Nah. I’ll smash it.” Brad says as his right arm rises above his head aiming at the box on the floor. He has a pet rock in his hand. It’s the green lizard one I gave Aunt Clara the Christmas of ’87. I want to yell ‘noooo.’ But quickly realize chipping one pet rock is for the greater good.
Brad successfully breaks the lock off of the metal lock box. We kneel down and suspiciously lift open the top of the box. It is jam packed with papers and photos. In an effort to be thorough we spread the papers on the floor.
We have stumbled upon Aunt Clara’s box of legal documents. My birth certificate is in front of me. The original one. The one naming me Amanda Hayes. There is also a birth certificate naming me Sari Clarke. Father…Evan Clarke. This fake is also certified. Brad and I exchange glances asking the same question – how did they pull of getting this certified? Is this fraud?
We sift through Ainslie’s, Lizi’s and Clara’s important paperwork. Social security cards, fingers prints, a few photos. Nothing pertaining to the issue at hand! Crap. Brad’s face falls.
“Wait!” He exclaims. “What is this?”
Brad holds up a battered envelope. Amanda Hayes is written on the outside of the envelope. It is sealed. I snatch the envelope out of Brad’s hand. With thought, I tear it open.
“Dear Amanda.” I evenly read aloud. “I love you so much my sweet baby girl. The only lesson I am able to teach you is this-Life is not always as it seems. I will live out my days missing you and wishing we had a much different ending. Please know in your heart I did not murder your mother and step-father. You will read articles and encounter people who will try to tell you otherwise. I am being punished for this crime and I chose this fate. I chose this fate to keep you safe and make this nightmare end. If you ever want to know me please come find me. I will always welcome you. This is your decision my sweet. I will wake every morning hoping to see you again and be given your understanding and love. When the time is right I will explain all of this to you my love. I love you with all my heart and soul. Your father, Ed.”
My lips rest. My eyes stay on my father’s cursive handwriting. Most father’s handwriting is so familiar to their children but not in my case. A tear threatens to escape down my cheek. I inhale…deeply, violently, mystified.
“Shit.” I say blankly. Again.
“Clara must have some old photos or some effects from your mother. We need to dig up your mother’s past. Our answers can only come from her.” Brad is so sure of himself. I am sure of nothing.
**************************************************************************
Although we are convinced we are doing the right thing we decide to discreetly park the car three blocks from Aunt Clara’s house. I secretly wish I was wearing running shoes in case we have to book it out of there. At this point I only plan for the worst possible scenario.
We attempt to move unseen so we creep along the bushes curving up around Aunt Clara’s house. I present my house key. I briefly pause before handing it to Brad. Suddenly I am bit nervous about what we will find inside. I have not been here since I saw my wonderful Aunt bloody on her kitchen floor. What if the cops turned the place upside down? What if this house no longer feels like the safe haven I grew up in? What if Aunt Clara is to blame for all of this? What is my room has been ransacked? What if Ainslie’s or Lizi’s room is…LIZI.
“Brad.” I whisper as he turns the key in the backdoor. “I have to call Lizi.”
“Hold on. Let’s get inside.” He pushes the door open.
I hold my breath. I squeeze my eyes shut. I summon strength. Go inside. Go inside and find your truth…whatever it may be.
I seize Brad’s hand. He accepts and takes my hand. He cradles it. We stand still in the kitchen and assess the situation we have intentionally place ourselves in. The floor has an outline of Aunt Clara’s body. Chills race up my spine. Although, this seems to be the worst of the police activity left behind. Thank goodness. I can’t bare anymore destruction at this point. As I think this I know it is only wishful thinking.
“Okay. They left her house intact.” Brad sighs with relief. “This is good because we are one step ahead of them. Or whoever is playing this game.”
I stare blankly. This blank look has become synonymous with my face.
“Meaning…it is unlikely that Aunt Clara’s belongings have been touched and if there is anything to find connecting Clara and/or your mother to this then we will find it…first.” Brad’s eyebrows rise in satisfaction.
“Ugh. I feel like I am in a movie.” My stomach churns.
“Ahhh yeah you are little lady. Write this down and I pretty much guarantee you can get Bradley Cooper to play me.” Brad winks.
“Stop it!” I silence my giggles. “You are distracting me. I’m fidgety and nervous…I cannot laugh right now.”
“Okay.” Brad pushes my curls behind my ear with a half grin. “Where does Clara keep her personal effects? Does she have a file cabinet? An office?”
“Yes. She has an office. Let’s start there. I rarely ever went there so I have no idea where to start looking for secrets and lies.” I recall. “Oh and she also has a few stashed boxes in the back of her closet.”
On tiptoes I guide Brad to Aunt Clara’s office. It seems dead. Lifeless. It is true, I rarely spent time in here. This was Aunt Clara’s solitude. Her alone. Her thinking space. Perhaps her hiding place?
The walls are lined with book shelves making it feel uncomfortably small for more than one occupant. Brad and I accidently elbow each other with even the slightest budge. I nearly jump out of my skin. Every bump startles me. I am edgy.
“Was she a horder?” Brad asks as he scans the stacks of papers, books, photos, random items. “Pet rocks?”
“Yeah.” I don’t fight my smile. “I gave her all of these. It was our thing.”
“Oh. Maybe I should consider this as evidence before I get involved with you?” Brad teases. God, he looks handsome in every light but I can’t help but notice especially so in this eerie and shadowy setting.
“Stop it!” I giggle and press my body up against his. “Although detective I may have cracked your code? You want to date me.”
“When you stand this close to me I cannot deny the charges.” I feel his cheeks heat up. Brad is certainly turned on by me. However, the romance is lost in my laughter. “Okay…back up. He’s gone. You shunned him and he left.”
I laugh so hard I actually lose my balance. I catch my fall on Aunt Clara’s desk. I crash down hard causing her left lower drawer to pop open.
“Let’s start here.” Brad reaches down into the drawer with a target in mind. “I spy a lock.”
Brad’s dig reveals a shiny metal lock box. Lock being the operative word.
“I’ll find the key.” I immediately offer and begin searching through Aunt Clara’s middle desk drawer. My fingers fumble over pens, tacks, rubber bands, paper clips…everything but a key.
“Nah. I’ll smash it.” Brad says as his right arm rises above his head aiming at the box on the floor. He has a pet rock in his hand. It’s the green lizard one I gave Aunt Clara the Christmas of ’87. I want to yell ‘noooo.’ But quickly realize chipping one pet rock is for the greater good.
Brad successfully breaks the lock off of the metal lock box. We kneel down and suspiciously lift open the top of the box. It is jam packed with papers and photos. In an effort to be thorough we spread the papers on the floor.
We have stumbled upon Aunt Clara’s box of legal documents. My birth certificate is in front of me. The original one. The one naming me Amanda Hayes. There is also a birth certificate naming me Sari Clarke. Father…Evan Clarke. This fake is also certified. Brad and I exchange glances asking the same question – how did they pull of getting this certified? Is this fraud?
We sift through Ainslie’s, Lizi’s and Clara’s important paperwork. Social security cards, fingers prints, a few photos. Nothing pertaining to the issue at hand! Crap. Brad’s face falls.
“Wait!” He exclaims. “What is this?”
Brad holds up a battered envelope. Amanda Hayes is written on the outside of the envelope. It is sealed. I snatch the envelope out of Brad’s hand. With thought, I tear it open.
“Dear Amanda.” I evenly read aloud. “I love you so much my sweet baby girl. The only lesson I am able to teach you is this-Life is not always as it seems. I will live out my days missing you and wishing we had a much different ending. Please know in your heart I did not murder your mother and step-father. You will read articles and encounter people who will try to tell you otherwise. I am being punished for this crime and I chose this fate. I chose this fate to keep you safe and make this nightmare end. If you ever want to know me please come find me. I will always welcome you. This is your decision my sweet. I will wake every morning hoping to see you again and be given your understanding and love. When the time is right I will explain all of this to you my love. I love you with all my heart and soul. Your father, Ed.”
My lips rest. My eyes stay on my father’s cursive handwriting. Most father’s handwriting is so familiar to their children but not in my case. A tear threatens to escape down my cheek. I inhale…deeply, violently, mystified.
Monday, November 9, 2009
NIP 26
“Oh Sari. I have wanted you since the day I met you.” Brad holds my cheek in his hand. I melt. My entire being experiences a sensation unknown to me. I am lost in his eyes and his touch. It feels so good. “I never knew how to…”
“Ahhh!” I nearly jump out of my skin. The glass crashes and scatters all over us. Brad instantly dives out of the car with fists blazing.
I freeze…staring at the glass in my lap. My eyes cautiously travel to the glass all over my arms. Am I cut? Oh my god, am I bleeding? Is Brad?
“What the fuck!” I hear Brad holler. I jolt at the echo of knuckles cracking cheekbones. Whose? Who is out there? Is Brad okay?
“You no good piece of shit!” A male voice roars. Something about that voice is oddly familiar to me. “Sari is a cop whore just like her mother! You all deserve what you get!”
Mark!?! I immediately snap out of my trance. Mark!?! Mark broke the back window?
“Mark!” With shock and horror I poke my head over the car. Brad and Mark are brutally twisted together…punching, kicking, cussing. They are covered in each other’s blood and sweat. Dear god. “Stop!!!”
To my surprise they freeze. Like deer caught in headlights four wide eyes stare back at me.
I barely recognize Mark. His eyes are wild and his appearance disheveled. His coloring is pale, his clothes are in disarray and his energy is jaded. I can hardly believe this is the man who I agreed to marry…was so blessed to marry…couldn’t wait to marry. The man whose life I was so eager to share. The man I would spend the rest of my life with. Is the person I am seeing right now…right before my eyes…is this man the real Mark?
“What are you doing here?” I meant to scream but my voice is quiet and low. Seeing this vulnerable and violent man actually invokes pity in me. Pity I was unprepared for to feel for him.
“Trying to protect you!” He seethes. “Why? Why am I doing that?? I have no fucking clue.” Mark breaks from Brad’s grip and punches the air. He huffs and puffs in circles.
“I don’t even know what to say…” I slowly come around the car and approach them.
“Who do you two think you are? Some sort of perverted Bonnie and Clyde?” He pauses with his arms in the air looking as if he has truly lost his mind. “I should have blown you both to bits at Marcy’s?”
“Marcy’s?” Brad and I stutter in unison.
“Oh god.” I swallow hard. Is Mark the killer? Not until now did I even consider this a possibly. My blood goes cold and I fear Brad and I are in serious trouble.
“You were at Marcy’s?” Brad asks point blank. Good god he is calm under pressure.
“Yeah. I know about her and Ed Hayes.” Mark says matter-of- factly…almost sarcastically.
“Is that why you killed her?” Brad calmly slithers towards Mark…ready to pounce. “She had something on you. Truth about Hayes? Your involvement?”
“What!?! No!” Mark nearly giggles. “I was trying to protect you! God damnit Sari! Wake up.”
“Protect me?” I am baffled. From Marcy?
“This is all getting so out of control. Who knew Ed would be released and start murdering everyone.” As Mark speaks I see sadness creep in his eyes. “My stepfather knew…he is the one who was so adamant about keeping Ed in prison for good.”
“There is no way Marcy committed suicide. You know that.” I confide.
“She did.” His eyes turn their familiar blue. He is being honest. “She must have been crushed to find out Ed had been lying to her all of these years. He had zero intention of running away with her. He only wanted revenge.”
“But…I don’t…”
“Just keep your distance Mark.” Brad cuts me off. An unspoken force between us tells me he did this on purpose. I have faith and shut it. The palm of Brad’s hand on the small of my back guides me to his car.
“Sari…please Sari. Come with me.” Tears fill Mark eyes as he reaches out his hand to me. “Can we please work through this together? I love you so much. I was only trying to protect you. From the bottom of my heart I thought I was doing the right thing. I really did. You have to believe me.”
“Mark.” I hush him fearing he could go on pleading like this forever. My heart feels nothing. Well nothing but sympathy for him. I truly wish at moments like these I had a tiny bit of hard wiring to be a cold-hearted bitch. But I don’t. He hurt me but I still don’t want to hurt him. Not more than I have to.
“We are so good together. This will only bring us closer…”
“No Mark. I’m sorry. I need to figure this out on my own. I need answers.” I step away from him. Out of his force field.
“I can give you answers. I have told you everything. They will catch Ed and this will be over.” He wipes a tear from his eye. This gesture physically makes me nauseous. My gut telling me I cannot trust this guy.
“I’m sorry.” Is all I can say. At least for now.
“Oh.” I literally witness a shift in his demeanor. “Sorry that you are a cop fucker just like your mother! Watch out Brad. You are the first but history tells me you are not the last.”
His rage propels him in to his car before Brad and I can even utter a syllable. His slamming car door announces we are too late for any rebuttal. He peels out of our lives as fast and dramatically as he entered.
“Clara’s. Get in.” Brad instructs with what seems like giddiness. Odd.
I do as I am told. Brad starts the engine and we are off. I fidget trying to arrange my thoughts. I want to discuss the surreal scene that just took place. But I feel so incoherent.
“I cut you off because Mark is in the dark.” Brad offers. I wonder if I am this transparent to everyone. “He has been and probably is being used. We need to figure out by whom.”
“Oh god.” I groan.
“Oh no. Do not go feeling sorry for dum dum. Yes, someone is leaving him in the dark but he knows it. And he has known it was wrong all along. Which is why he is backpedaling so fast trying to get it cleaned up.” Brad exhales like the Olympic champion of the 100 meter dash.
“Shit.” I say blankly.
“It’s a lot to digest. I know. But he is dropping clues left and right.”
“He is playing a cat and mouse game with us?” My inability to keep up with Brad’s train of thought is making me feel like English is not my first language.
“Ha. Cute. No. He keeps calling your mom a ‘cop fucker.’ So it seems Ed Hayes was not the only cop she had a thing for or possibly with.” Brad clicks his tongue as punctuation. “And he keeps talking about Dan. His stepfather knows something. He is in deep. I promise you.”
“Shit.” I say blankly. Again.
“Clara must have some old photos or some effects from your mother. We need to dig up your mother’s past. Our answers can only come from her.” Brad is so sure of himself. I am sure of nothing.
*************************************************************************
“Ahhh!” I nearly jump out of my skin. The glass crashes and scatters all over us. Brad instantly dives out of the car with fists blazing.
I freeze…staring at the glass in my lap. My eyes cautiously travel to the glass all over my arms. Am I cut? Oh my god, am I bleeding? Is Brad?
“What the fuck!” I hear Brad holler. I jolt at the echo of knuckles cracking cheekbones. Whose? Who is out there? Is Brad okay?
“You no good piece of shit!” A male voice roars. Something about that voice is oddly familiar to me. “Sari is a cop whore just like her mother! You all deserve what you get!”
Mark!?! I immediately snap out of my trance. Mark!?! Mark broke the back window?
“Mark!” With shock and horror I poke my head over the car. Brad and Mark are brutally twisted together…punching, kicking, cussing. They are covered in each other’s blood and sweat. Dear god. “Stop!!!”
To my surprise they freeze. Like deer caught in headlights four wide eyes stare back at me.
I barely recognize Mark. His eyes are wild and his appearance disheveled. His coloring is pale, his clothes are in disarray and his energy is jaded. I can hardly believe this is the man who I agreed to marry…was so blessed to marry…couldn’t wait to marry. The man whose life I was so eager to share. The man I would spend the rest of my life with. Is the person I am seeing right now…right before my eyes…is this man the real Mark?
“What are you doing here?” I meant to scream but my voice is quiet and low. Seeing this vulnerable and violent man actually invokes pity in me. Pity I was unprepared for to feel for him.
“Trying to protect you!” He seethes. “Why? Why am I doing that?? I have no fucking clue.” Mark breaks from Brad’s grip and punches the air. He huffs and puffs in circles.
“I don’t even know what to say…” I slowly come around the car and approach them.
“Who do you two think you are? Some sort of perverted Bonnie and Clyde?” He pauses with his arms in the air looking as if he has truly lost his mind. “I should have blown you both to bits at Marcy’s?”
“Marcy’s?” Brad and I stutter in unison.
“Oh god.” I swallow hard. Is Mark the killer? Not until now did I even consider this a possibly. My blood goes cold and I fear Brad and I are in serious trouble.
“You were at Marcy’s?” Brad asks point blank. Good god he is calm under pressure.
“Yeah. I know about her and Ed Hayes.” Mark says matter-of- factly…almost sarcastically.
“Is that why you killed her?” Brad calmly slithers towards Mark…ready to pounce. “She had something on you. Truth about Hayes? Your involvement?”
“What!?! No!” Mark nearly giggles. “I was trying to protect you! God damnit Sari! Wake up.”
“Protect me?” I am baffled. From Marcy?
“This is all getting so out of control. Who knew Ed would be released and start murdering everyone.” As Mark speaks I see sadness creep in his eyes. “My stepfather knew…he is the one who was so adamant about keeping Ed in prison for good.”
“There is no way Marcy committed suicide. You know that.” I confide.
“She did.” His eyes turn their familiar blue. He is being honest. “She must have been crushed to find out Ed had been lying to her all of these years. He had zero intention of running away with her. He only wanted revenge.”
“But…I don’t…”
“Just keep your distance Mark.” Brad cuts me off. An unspoken force between us tells me he did this on purpose. I have faith and shut it. The palm of Brad’s hand on the small of my back guides me to his car.
“Sari…please Sari. Come with me.” Tears fill Mark eyes as he reaches out his hand to me. “Can we please work through this together? I love you so much. I was only trying to protect you. From the bottom of my heart I thought I was doing the right thing. I really did. You have to believe me.”
“Mark.” I hush him fearing he could go on pleading like this forever. My heart feels nothing. Well nothing but sympathy for him. I truly wish at moments like these I had a tiny bit of hard wiring to be a cold-hearted bitch. But I don’t. He hurt me but I still don’t want to hurt him. Not more than I have to.
“We are so good together. This will only bring us closer…”
“No Mark. I’m sorry. I need to figure this out on my own. I need answers.” I step away from him. Out of his force field.
“I can give you answers. I have told you everything. They will catch Ed and this will be over.” He wipes a tear from his eye. This gesture physically makes me nauseous. My gut telling me I cannot trust this guy.
“I’m sorry.” Is all I can say. At least for now.
“Oh.” I literally witness a shift in his demeanor. “Sorry that you are a cop fucker just like your mother! Watch out Brad. You are the first but history tells me you are not the last.”
His rage propels him in to his car before Brad and I can even utter a syllable. His slamming car door announces we are too late for any rebuttal. He peels out of our lives as fast and dramatically as he entered.
“Clara’s. Get in.” Brad instructs with what seems like giddiness. Odd.
I do as I am told. Brad starts the engine and we are off. I fidget trying to arrange my thoughts. I want to discuss the surreal scene that just took place. But I feel so incoherent.
“I cut you off because Mark is in the dark.” Brad offers. I wonder if I am this transparent to everyone. “He has been and probably is being used. We need to figure out by whom.”
“Oh god.” I groan.
“Oh no. Do not go feeling sorry for dum dum. Yes, someone is leaving him in the dark but he knows it. And he has known it was wrong all along. Which is why he is backpedaling so fast trying to get it cleaned up.” Brad exhales like the Olympic champion of the 100 meter dash.
“Shit.” I say blankly.
“It’s a lot to digest. I know. But he is dropping clues left and right.”
“He is playing a cat and mouse game with us?” My inability to keep up with Brad’s train of thought is making me feel like English is not my first language.
“Ha. Cute. No. He keeps calling your mom a ‘cop fucker.’ So it seems Ed Hayes was not the only cop she had a thing for or possibly with.” Brad clicks his tongue as punctuation. “And he keeps talking about Dan. His stepfather knows something. He is in deep. I promise you.”
“Shit.” I say blankly. Again.
“Clara must have some old photos or some effects from your mother. We need to dig up your mother’s past. Our answers can only come from her.” Brad is so sure of himself. I am sure of nothing.
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