Page 25 of Inside Silence
It may be a while.
They never show you that on those TV cop shows; the amount of waiting involved. Most investigations take longer than the forty-eight-hour sweet spot they always tell you about. Hell, lab results alone can take weeks, and sometimes months to get back.
But, we try to do what we can while we wait, which is why I want Deputy KC Kingma out there looking for Trotter’s Lexus.
“Motels, B&B’s, rental properties. I want you to check anywhere someone might be staying temporarily.”
“Do we know for a fact he’s here somewhere?” he asks.
“No. We don’t,” I admit. “But it’s the only real lead we have at the moment and we’re going to work it until we hear otherwise.”
He shrugs, fits his cap on his newly shaved head, and gets to his feet. By the door he stops and turns around. “Want me to bring him in if I find him?”
“I want you to call me immediately and then sit on him but at a distance until I can get there. No more one-man heroics, you hear me?”
It’s clear he’s not happy with those instructions, and with a light tug on the bill of his cap and an exaggeratedly polite, “Yes, ma’am,” he disappears down the hall.
The soft ping on my phone signals an incoming message. It’s from Nate.
* * *
Hope you like salmon. I caught it myself.
* * *
It’s followed with a picture of a sizable Chinook on a large rock at the edge of the water. I smile with the memory of an early morning, many years ago, when an excited Nate dragged me out to the creek because the salmon started running. Usually sometime mid-to-late-September, when the weather starts getting colder, the salmon run upstream to spawn. It’s a sight to behold, all these large fish, struggling against the current, turning the creek into a living, breathing thing in their desperation to get to their spawning grounds.
Growing up in a small town like Silence, you get your entertainment where you can get it.
I guess it’s that time of year again. Usually, I would be over at my father’s place, tossing a line in beside his, but I’ve been so overwhelmed with this murder case and distracted by Nate’s return, I hadn’t even noticed they were running.
Yes, I called Nate after I had a chance to think about his offer to talk. I slept on it, or rather, lost sleep over it. I didn’t want to hear what he might have to say at first, comfortable with pretending the past is behind me. That might’ve been possible before Nate came back, but is obviously not working when I bump into him all over town. I don’t think those old feelings, hurts, and grievances, will ever go away unless I deal with them head-on. Part of that is listening to what he has to say.
So I agreed to dinner, tonight, at his place.
He mentioned his daughter would be at a friend’s and he was available tonight. I’m the one who opted to go to his house. Eating out would’ve meant other people around, and I don’t want witnesses to my discomfort. His place would give me the option of bailing if things get to be too much, and besides, he offered to cook.
I don’t bother changing out of my uniform before I go. It’s not like this is a date, and the uniform might serve as an imagined shield. At least I hope so.
I have a feeling I may need it.
Nate
* * *
I’m nervous.
I can’t remember the last time I felt this jittery. It feels like a lot depends on tonight going well.
Funny, a few weeks ago my daughter was all I could think about, yet I just dropped her off at the Alexander house for a barbecue and almost forgot to say goodbye. I was too preoccupied trying to figure out what I’m going to say to Savannah when she gets to my place.
For some reason, setting the record straight has become my priority. I can’t control what Savvy will do with that information—hell, it may all blow up in my face—but at least she’ll know the truth. She’ll be mad, I have no doubt about that, but I’m braced for that.
At least when she unleashes on me it’ll be for the right reasons.
I toss together the Asian coleslaw, quarter the fingerling potatoes to pop in the air fryer, and have the large salmon steaks marinating in soy sauce, lime juice, and sesame seeds. The fish won’t take more than fifteen minutes on the grill, so dinner can be on the table quickly once she gets here.
I’m out on the deck, drinking a beer and staring off at the mountains when I hear the doorbell. As soon as I open the door, the words I so painstakingly gathered these past hours evaporate from my mind.
