Page 15 of Aftermath
“Same thing,” my mother scolded. “He’s putting far too much on you.”
He was putting far toolittleon me. Academy work was time consuming, but it was nothing compared to my time in the field. Long hours and stake outs, pulling all-nighters to build a profile and prepare to brief local law enforcement, being called at any hour to pursue a lead.
“You should come home,” my mother added. “Take a vacation, come spend some time with me and your sister.”
Lyla was only ten, making her eighteen years younger than me. My mother had her with her second husband after my own father passed away.
“Is Lyla up?” I asked.
“She is,” my mother confirmed. “Just like you, I swear.”
“Can you put her on?” I asked.
“Fine, but that doesn’t mean I’m forgetting about all this.”
“I wouldn’t dare think that,” I laughed.
I heard shuffling on the other end of the line and imagined my mother making her way to the small kitchen in our family home. The home I grew up in.
“Hey, Winston,” Lyla’s voice came through the phone.
“Hey, Lyla,” I said gently. “How have you been?”
A twinge of guilt coursed through me. I hadn’t been home to visit in over a year. Sure, there were plenty of phone calls and even the occasional video call, but I knew I’d put off seeing them for too long. Especially Lyla—she deserved more than that. I just couldn’t bring myself to face them yet, not with knowing what I’d caused and become. The months I’d spent at rock bottom were far too much for even myself to face just yet.
“I got an A on that project you helped with,” she said proudly. I could feel the giant grin through the phone.
I had sent her one of my FBI challenger coins, something to do with a presentation on what each student wanted to be when they grew up. No matter how many times I insisted it wasn’t the job she wanted, Lyla’s only dream was to follow in my footsteps.
I never wanted her to experience the pain I went through, but I was still proud of her.
“That’s fantastic. Although, I never for a second doubted you’d get anything less,” I said, smiling.
She was never the sister I expected, but my heart couldn’t help but swell every time I spoke to her.
“Are you working a new case?” she asked, and I noted the hopeful tone.
It’d been awhile since I was away on assignment. Lyla loved hearing about the new places I traveled. I couldn’t help but give her a little of what she hoped for.
“I am,” I lied.
Was it really a lie? Technically, I was working a case…a cold case.
I wasn’t so sure the FBI or Lyla, for that matter, would accept my technicalities if they all knew exactly what I was doing.
“I’ll be heading to Maine soon,” I continued.
“To Augusta?” she asked.
“I’m flying to Portland and staying on the coast, in Briarport,” I answered.
There was a pause of silence.
“Time to go, Lyla,” my mother’s faint voice came from the background.
“I have to go,” Lyla said sadly.
“School this early?” I was an early riser to get work done, but there was no way schools were making children go in as early as 5:00 a.m., were they? It’d be counterproductive to the amount of sleep children needed combined with the average bedtime.
