Page 61 of Redemption

As I jog down the four floors from the dead guy’s apartment, my mind at ease and my steps light, I meet a woman and a small girl. They hold hands and make it slowly up the stairs. The little blonde girl is dressed in a terrible combination of a pink ballerina skirt, purple rain boots and a red jacket. She’s maybe a year and a half, or two years old at the most. I’m good with attention to details, but my experience with children is limited to say the least.

They’re in the middle of a conversation and bits and pieces of it reach me as I fly past them.

I shoot off a disarming smile to the mother. I’ve found that people tend to rationalize when they remember things. They won’t remember a pleasant experience in connection with something unpleasant. She won’t connect me with the gruesome murder in her house that she will soon know about. The plump, mousy-haired woman smiles back and her cheeks blush and then we’re past each other. I’ve already forgotten about her when I hear a familiar word.

A name.

“—Kerry—”

I almost miss the next step and have to lengthen my stride in order not to fall. I’m out of the building and slip around the corner in a matter of seconds. My car is just on the other side of the railroad. I just have to make it across the parking lot and through a tunnel, but my head spins and I fall back against a concrete wall, fighting to get back control over my breathing, my neck suddenly slick with sweat. “Get a grip, Chris,” I snarl to myself between clenched teeth. Slowly the dizziness subsides and I start toward the car with efficient strides. That name.

Kerry.

Tires on gravel are a bad combination. I probably make deep ruts in the driveway as I rev the engine and speed off. Out of this fucking town. Out of this fucking world of worn-down people and worn-down lives.

Not that the world isn’t full of Kerrys, or little girls, about a year and a half old, wearing pink little dresses, ponytails, and smiles full of trust. I see them all the time. But I’ve been feeling particularly moody the last few days since I got the latest update from my snoop.

It’s been a year. At first, I was sure she’d turn up again. People just don’t vanish from the face of the earth. Then, as time went by, I backtracked and checked with my sources to make sure Kerry and the girl hadn’t been found dead anywhere.

But no. They are just fucking gone.

And with every passing day my anger grows. Who does she think she is? Disappearing with my kid like that! A man has rights. If she’d just stayed in sight, where I could’ve kept an eye on them.

But now…

Her dad is dead, so I can’t squeeze it out of him. Chloe Becker, her former co-worker and the closest thing she had to a friend, didn’t know shit and had to spend a week in the hospital after I’d been convinced. I’ve been tracking her mother, but after a few months it became obvious that they have no contact whatsoever.

So whom does she confide in? Who does she trust? She’s not an island. Every person needs someone, somewhere.

In the beginning I had three men on my payroll, now I’m down to just one. He works on it full time and still the latest report came up with nothing.

I slam my fist on the dashboard and turn right on the I-29, leaving Sioux Falls behind me. In three days I have a meeting in Winnipeg of all places.

Canada.

I turn on the radio. When the static clears an old Simon and Garfunkel tune fills the car. I recognize it immediately. “I am A Rock”. I’m more of a jazz person, but the lyrics are sad and as I flatten the gas pedal to the floor, steering north, they penetrate me and the words come to life carrying a deeper meaning than the two aging musicians could’ve possibly ever intended.

They sing of walls that no one can penetrate.I stare at the road in front of me, but asphalt is not what I see.

I see her before me. Her dark green eyes sparkling with a hesitant flirt, slightly tipsy from the shots of vodka I ordered to befriend her and to make her more compliant.

I liked it, talking to her, it was fun.

I’ve never cared for anybody. I never bothered to get close to anyone. Life taught me early on it was just a giant waste of energy.

I still feel it in my palms, her soft hair caressing them as I cradled her head. The memory of the deep need for her to kiss me, to give herself to me, still rages inside.

Then I went and ruined it all. Destroyed her.

What was her is just gone.

I’m more of a monster than anyone knows. Anyone but Kerry Jackson. She knows. I made her trust me, made her believe in me, in us, and then I turned on her. The shame that rolls over me, remembering what I did to her, burns hotter than the Hell I expect to end up in the day the other guy is faster than I am.

I grip the steering wheel tighter until my knuckles turn white.

I am a rock.

She’s nothing.