Page 28 of Silent Neighbor

CHAPTER TWELVE

The living room of Doug Blackwell's modest home was thick with tension. Sheila sat perched on the edge of an overstuffed armchair, her eyes fixed on the man across from her. Doug's face was ashen, his hands trembling as he processed the news she had just delivered.

"How?" Doug's voice was barely above a whisper. "How did it happen?"

Sheila exchanged a glance with Finn, who sat beside her on the worn couch. "Mr. Blackwell, Brad was found at the base of a cliff in the Valley of the Gods. We're still investigating the exact circumstances, but..." She paused, weighing how much to reveal. "We have reason to believe there may have been foul play involved."

Doug's eyes widened, a mix of shock and disbelief clouding his features. "Foul play? But why? Who would want to hurt Brad?"

"That's what we're trying to determine," Finn interjected softly. "We were hoping you might be able to help us understand more about Brad's life, his relationships."

Doug nodded, running a hand through his thinning hair. "Of course, anything I can do. It's just... God, I can't believe this is happening."

Sheila leaned forward, her voice softening. "Mr. Blackwell, you mentioned before that Brad had left you a voicemail. Would you be willing to let us hear it? It could potentially help with our investigation."

Doug nodded, fumbling for his phone. His fingers shook as he navigated to his voicemail, the tremors making the task visibly difficult. Finally, he hit the speaker button, and Brad's voice filled the room, a haunting echo from beyond the grave.

"Hey, Dad. It's me, Brad. I, uh... I'm just calling to say hi, I guess. And to let you know I've been thinking about what you said. About wanting to talk. Maybe we could grab a coffee sometime? Anyway, give me a call back when you can. I... I love you, Dad."

The message ended, leaving a heavy silence in its wake. Doug's eyes were brimming with unshed tears, the pain of lost opportunities etched clearly on his face.

"We hadn't spoken in months," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "I've been trying to get sober, you know? Wanted to make things right between us. But Brad, he... he was hesitant. Can't say I blame him."

Sheila nodded sympathetically, her heart aching for this man and the reconciliation that would never come. "Can you tell us more about your relationship with Brad?"

Doug sighed heavily, leaning back in his chair. The leather creaked under his weight, the sound loud in the quiet room. "I wasn't a good father. Drank too much, wasn't there when he needed me. By the time I realized how much I'd screwed up, Brad was already gone, off chasing his dreams of adventure."

He gestured to a shelf lined with framed photos, each one a snapshot of a life now lost. "I've followed his vlog, you know. Watched every video. It was like... like I was trying to make up for lost time, get to know the man my son had become."

Doug's voice cracked, and he stood abruptly, the sudden movement startling in the somber atmosphere. "I'm sorry, I need a moment. Can I get you anything?"

Finn shook his head. "No, thank you."

As Doug left the room, his footsteps heavy on the hardwood floor, Sheila exchanged a puzzled glance with Finn. She had a feeling she knew where Doug was going, so she followed him.

She found him in the kitchen, unscrewing the cap on a bottle of whiskey.

"You don't have to, you know," she said softly.

He paused, his back to Sheila, the bottle in one hand and the cap in the other. His shoulders slumped. "It's crazy, isn't it?" he said. "How the things that ruin us are the very things we run to for help?"

"You're not a bad father. Brad knew you were trying, and that must've meant the world to him."

Doug took a deep, unsteady breath. "I can't decide which is worse—feeling or not feeling. All I feel is pain."

Sheila could imagine how he was feeling, and it broke her heart.

"That drink will only make it worse," she said. "It might numb everything for a while, but then you'll feel the pain and the guilt together. It's better to just feel the pain."

With an effort, Doug set the bottle down. Then he tossed the cap on the counter and turned around. There were tears in the corners of his eyes.

"I wanted so badly to make him proud," he said. "You ever heard of that? A father wanting to make his son proud?

"He loved you. He saw you, not your demons."

Doug nodded and cleared his throat. "We shouldn't keep your partner waiting—not polite." He smiled sadly.

Sheila nodded, and together they returned to the living room. Doug sat down heavily, and Sheila found herself wandering over to a shelf of photos. She picked up one that showed a younger Doug with a teenage Brad, both grinning at the camera, fishing rods in hand. Despite the smiles, there was a tension in Brad's posture, a distance in his eyes that hinted at the strained relationship Doug had described.

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