Blindness(86)

“Caroline, I’m sorry…but I’m going to have to call you back,” I say, sliding the phone from my ear to hang up on her.

“Charlie…it’s Mac. They found the guy,” she says just loud enough to stop me, and I stumble back onto the ground, falling on my ass. I fumble to get the phone back to my ear, and I wave my hand in the air. “Stop!” I scream, halting Cody and Trevor instantly with the sharp attack of my words, which echo off of the nearby dirt mountains and metal ramps.

I’m panting into the phone, willing myself not to pass out. “What?” I say, the taste of bile souring my mouth, and my body dazed.

“They found him, Charlie. They have him, and we need you to come home,” Caroline says, her voice wavering from crying. She cries a lot, but this one is different, and it has me off-center. I can’t find reality, her words are so unexpected. This call...it was never supposed to come.

“Where?” I ask, not sure I’m ready for her answer.

“He was here. In Louisville. They got him in a drug bust,” she says, and I’m nodding with her information. I’m nodding because it fits everything—every nightmare, every feeling, every suspicion I’ve had for the last three years. “You have to come home, Charlie. They need you…to identify…”

“I know. I know. I talk to Brian…” I interrupt her, holding my hand up to my chest and gripping at the pain. “Okay, I’ll be there tomorrow.”

I hang up with Caroline, and I stand and start walking to the car, to the parking lot, leaving the entire mess I’ve made behind me. I have a new mess, a horror story, waiting for me in Louisville—and that’s where my heart is now.

Cody is behind me in seconds, reaching for my hand, but I jerk it away. “No, don’t touch me!” I say, lashing out with my tongue. It’s not his fault, but I can’t handle everything that’s happening all at once, and I don’t know how to be nice.

“Charlie, wait!” I stop and turn to him, breathing in through my nose and fighting the hysterics that I know are barely tucked below my surface. “What’s going on? Who the hell’s Brian?”

Trevor is behind him now, and he answers before I can.

“Detective Shiller,” he says, his eyes understanding. Trevor doesn’t know the entire story, but he knows enough, and he’s already pulling out his phone, making calls to the airport for me.

“Detective?” Cody says, his confusion apparent. “What are you doing?”

He’s grabbing Trevor’s arm, trying to figure out who he’s calling, looking at Jessie and Gabe, who are just as confused as he is, and then back at me. His eyes are full of sadness and fear, and I know he’s afraid he’s losing me to some strange unknown, and it breaks me—breaks through my trance—for just a moment, just long enough.

“They found my dad’s killer,” I say, and I see the flash of recognition, of understanding, in his eyes. “My dad was a cop. He tried to stop a hold-up at a convenience store when he was off-duty. I was in the car, and I saw the whole thing. He shot him—in the back.”

I cover my mouth as the memory floods back to me, and I collapse to my knees, my body convulsing, and my weeping moans loud and disruptive.

Cody is next to me seconds later, pulling me into his lap and squeezing me tightly, and I cling to him. Trevor is pacing, making calls, and I know he’s broken from seeing this, from seeing me lean on Cody, but I need him—now more than ever—so I continue to hold him, and the fighting stops, at least for the moment.





Chapter 17: Let’s Celebrate





Mac is beaming. He keeps reaching across the seat and patting me on the shoulder, smiling.

The trophy is heavy between us, and I feel badly that it’s denting in his vinyl seats. “Dad, I can move this to the floor. It’s making holes,” I say, picking it up and rubbing my finger over the small puncture on the bench seat of his truck.

“Bah,” Mac says, pushing the trophy back down in its place. “I’ll tape the hole if it rips. I wanna see this. I’m so proud of you, Charlie.”

My biggest fan, Mac hadn’t missed a single golf tournament this season. Winning State felt more like something we both did.

“We should celebrate. Whadaya want?” he says, pulling off the main highway to head into our neighborhood. His lips are still red from the slushes we drank in the car, and it makes me giggle. We make silly faces at a stoplight, and I snap a few shots with my phone.

It’s late, and I’m pretty sure most of the restaurants are closed. We’ve been driving for hours, heading home from the tournament held at the university. By the time awards were done, the sun was long gone.

“Oh, I’m good with anything. How about Wendy’s?” I say, knowing that the baked potato and chili is my dad’s favorite. He looks at me and smiles, his eyes crinkling, like Santa.

“Sounds like a plan,” he says, pulling onto the side street where the fast food joints are all clustered. When we pull through the lot, the lights are off, but I can tell the drive-thru’s open.

“That’s fine,” I say, pointing to the menu screen.

“Nonsense, I want a sit-down meal to celebrate this,” he says, patting the trophy and pulling up his cheeks to grin.