Country placed the glass on the counter. A sink full of dirty dishes held their position, daring him to wash them. Not feeling up to the challenge, he let them be and settled behind his computer.
He had hoped without any reason whatsoever that Genny would be waiting for him at his apartment. She wasn’t. If she was home, she hadn’t picked up her phone. Either she was out running or ignoring him. He made no room for any other possibilities.
He lifted the receiver and dialed again. On the tenth ring, he hung up. The nagging voices in the back of his mind spoke to him. Doubts he had allowed to fester became certainties. Small slights grew into grievous wounds. His own sins caused an anger to well up inside, brought forth a pain in his heart he could no longer repress, and he lashed out, not at himself, but at the one he blamed for making him feel that way.
“I don’t get her,” he said. “I went off for what two, three minutes? The top guy asked me to meet a couple people. It’s not like I could’ve said no. He’s my boss. Why can’t she understand that?”
It was closer to fifteen. And you did say no the second time. You could’ve cut it short the first time. You knew she was waiting for you. See. Here she is again. You’re having a good time, and she’s all alone.
Country brushed the memory aside. “I was most definitely not having a good time. Surrounded by loose women and looser men. Not my thing. The whole situation made me feel … dirty.”
Don’t pretend you weren’t looking. Remember the one in the blue dress? The pendant she wore? How do you think it made Genny feel? You know she saw you.
“So what if I was checking out the field a little? I wasn’t going to do anything. Besides, I’m a young, eligible, somewhat good-looking man. And it’s not like Genny’s my girlfriend.”
Hmm.
“Actually, if I’m honest. I’m not sure if she’s my friend anymore. She’s always off doing her own thing with her new friends. I don’t know why she’s incapable of seeing who they really are. It’s like she’s intentionally self-deceived. Regardless, she barely has any time for me, and when she does, she expects me to drop everything I’m doing and run over there to entertain her. My life doesn’t revolve around hers. I don’t know why she thinks she has the right to be angry at me. Especially when she does the exact same to me. She should look at herself, don’t you think? Point the finger of blame in her own direction. What do you say to that?”
You done?
“No.” His ‘no’ had an annoyed, sarcastic tone. “Just once … just once, I’d like to see her accept responsibility instead of projecting her faults onto others. Sometimes, she can be so petty. And deluded.”
And you can’t?
“Whose side are you on anyway?”
Your side. You just don’t see it right now.
“Ahh … shut up. Stupid conscience.”
All went silent in his mind. He picked up the phone but put it down without dialing. The cuckoo in the wall chimed one a.m.
“It’s later than I thought,” he said. “That’s probably why she’s not answering.” The cuckoo disappeared back into the wall. “And I really need to call an exterminator.”
He rested his arms on top of his head and tried to decide what to do. The dirty dishes called out to him. His bed did the same. He didn’t care for either option. A deep yawn preceded a pressed power button. The monitor started to flicker on as the hard drive hummed to life. A few minutes later, his email stared back at him. Ignoring two new messages, he went back and re-read a few earlier ones.
Will contact you tonight at the fundraiser. I will be working security and use the phrase: ‘Bill Clinton has many friends.’ You will respond with: ‘He flies with them on private jets.’ I will deliver the information I promised. Maybe then you will believe.
Country worked backwards in time, clicking on a few entries before he found the one he wanted. A chain of emails and responses opened up.
The investigation continues. There’s nothing definite at this time, but it’s not looking good.
What could they possibly have? I had nothing to do with it.
Video, not of the greatest quality. Although, it’s not hard to make the case that it’s you, especially since you admit to being there around the time.
What was the woman’s name again?
Courtney Hutchins. Now, you’re looking at two separate charges, at least. We’ve connected seven murders, maybe more, to the same person.
And you think it’s me?
They do. I don’t, which is why I’m telling you. Since I’ve been here, I couldn’t tell you how many innocent people we’ve falsely incarcerated, and I can’t be a part of that … I can’t tell you who’s involved. All I know is the department can’t be trusted … Someone’s setting you up. That, I know for sure.
… tell me who you are.
Not now. I could lose my job for this. Actually, I could go to prison for a long time. I’ve taken a huge risk already.
Why would they do this? … The whole scenario sounds far-fetched.
That part I don’t know. I will give you more information as I find it.
Country read the first email again. ‘Will contact you tonight ….’ His contact in the sheriff’s department hadn’t. Why not? And more importantly, who was it? The medical examiner? No. Why would an M.E. work security? It had to be an officer. The blond deputy with the blond eyes? The female officer who kept looking at him out of the corner of her eye that day? Someone else? It had to be one of them on the beach. How many deputies were there that day? Ten? Maybe more? Country searched the photo album in his mind for the various mental snapshots he took. At the time, it had all seemed innocent. Now, every recollected image looked at him through squinty eyes with a combination of pity and suspicion.
He blew through his lips so they buzzed and went, ‘Bbbpppbbbppppbb.’ Then, he stretched his eyes wide and blinked a couple times. A moment of hesitation followed. If he opened them now, it was almost certain he wouldn’t get any sleep. He probably wouldn’t anyway, he reasoned. The new email opened.
I couldn’t find much more than what I told you last time. I tracked him to L.A. but lost the trail when he got here. Near as I can tell, he found a job at a convenience store, the one on Maplewood where they sell kimchi churros. (They’re much better than they sound.) The owner sort of recognized the picture I showed him, but he couldn’t guarantee it was him. Said he worked for a week and took off without notice. He’s still holding his paycheck. As for what he’s doing, I have no idea. And why he hasn’t tried to contact you or Genny …
Country could almost hear the email sigh as it trailed off. Nearly four months out here and the trail had run cold again. His contact didn’t show up and now this. Two major disappointments in one night. A lesser man might have lost hope. Country, on the other hand, found opportunity. Or more accurately, he saw a link. Somehow, the two disappointments were connected. How? His brain went into overdrive, looking for the missing link, but like Darwin and the thousands of like-minded scientists after him, he couldn’t find it. If he could, he would be one step, possibly a Texas two-step, closer to solving two mysteries and at least seven murders.
He read the end of the last email one more time.
Take care of Genny for me. We’ll find her father soon. I promise.
Jorge
Country shut the computer down. A two-fold guilt swept over him. Both involved Genny. He wasn’t at the point where he could tell her about his search for her father, not until he found out whether or not this was another dead end. He could call her up once more and apologize for the evening.
The phone rang ten times. He almost put it down like always, but this time for some reason, he let it ring once more. A quiet, tired voice answered.
“Hi, Country,” it said.
He could tell she had been crying.
“How’d you know it was me?” he asked.
“You’re the only one I know who waits at least ten rings to hang up.”
“I went to eleven,” he said. He didn’t know what else to say.
“What do you want?” Genny asked.
“I just wanted to talk with you.”
Other than the faint whisper of her breathing, the line was silent. A silver light, a reflection of the moon’s glory, pierced the drawn curtain.
“Genny. I want to ….”
She cut him off. “Are we still friends?”
Even though he had just thought the same, her question caught him off guard. “Of … of course, Genny. We’ve always been friends, and we always will be.”
“Are you sure?” Her voice was distant, not in space but in time, a hollow cry from the past.
“Genny ….”
“I’m not mad at you, Country. I mean, I am, but I don’t have a right to be. You’re allowed to live your own life. It’s selfish of me to think you should have to give up anything just because I ….”
Country waited for her to continue. He could imagine her sitting on the sofa with her feet curled beneath her, eyes weary and past the point of shedding tears, the façade, the shield, of purposeful detachment protecting her heart.
“I get lonely sometimes,” she said, “and I miss you. But I’ve got new friends now. It’s not the same, I admit, but at least they’re around.” She paused as though listening to her own words. “I’m sorry. I know how that sounds. I didn’t mean to accuse you of something, and I’m not trying to make you feel guilty. It’s that … I see our friendship slipping away.”
“That’s not going to happen, Gen.”
“Let me finish.” Her words were firm but tinged with sorrow. “We’re growing apart. That happens. People come and go in life. Lord knows it’s happened to me. I just thought … I thought it would be different with you, that somehow you and I would always be together.” Another pause. “It’s funny how life has its own plans for us and not the ones we want. It’s almost as if … as if the universe conspires against us, replaces our dreams, our desires, with what it wants. Maybe, it’s for our good. Maybe, it’s out of spite or simply indifference. Which it is, I couldn’t tell you.”
“I think you’re making a big deal out of something small, Gen. I really do. It was just one night. A stupid party.”
“I don’t, Country. And it doesn’t have anything to do with tonight. Don’t you see?”
Country was beginning to. Genny continued.
“I’ve felt this way ever since we came out here, since that day you found me. Before that, if I’m honest with myself. There’s something, an external power for lack of a better description, pushing me, compelling me to travel down a different path than the one I’ve been on, than the one I would have chosen for myself. The universe, fate, life, whatever you want to call it, a wind, perhaps, blowing against me. And it’s so strong. Too strong for me to make any headway. I’m just tired of running against it.” She took a deep breath. “Maybe it’s time to let it blow me where it wants me to go.”
Country didn’t understand it all, but he understood enough. “I hear you, Gen,” he said, “but I’m not ready to give up on us yet.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“I know,” he said.
He searched for the right words, wishing his lips were somehow directly connected to his heart. But they weren’t.
“Tell you what. Let me make it up to you. I know, I know. I’m not dismissing what you told me. I’m simply saying … well, I don’t know what I’m saying.” He let the silence linger for a while before he spoke up again. “Just do me a favor.”
“What is it?”
“Drop by the set today. I’ll introduce you around. I know it won’t make up for last night, but it’ll be fun. You can see how they do makeup and hair. Paolo – he’s the director – might let you be an extra in a scene. And there’s free food. What do you think?”
Country knew how lame his attempt at reconciliation was, but in that moment, he couldn’t figure out anything else to say.
“I … I suppose I could do that,” Genny finally said. “I figure I at least owe you that much.”
“Great. I’ll let the security guard know you’ll be dropping by. Say ten a.m.?”
“Ten. Yeah. I can do that.”
“OK, Gen. I’ll see you then.”
The phone went silent. Genny and Country went off to their beds – Genny to an immediate sleep brought on by exhaustion, Country to stare at the dark, empty walls and think. Somewhere in the city, another phone rang.
“No. I wasn’t listening. What’d she say? She did? We almost had her. Uh huh. What do you want me to do? Tomorrow at 10 a.m. Yeah, I can figure something out. Uh huh. Got it. Can do. Don’t worry. It’ll be over soon.”