We rummaged through the rest of my drawers, my closet and under my bed. Nick pulled things out he thought Claire would’ve held on to, like pictures, a certain pink hoodie he said I wore a lot, a few pieces of favored jewelry that wasn’t missing from the collection, a soft, wool blanket I loved to cuddle under while reading, and the stack of books I kept in my closet that he claimed were my favorites. We tucked them all inside a duffle I found in the closet. I don’t know why, but I left behind all my old school stuff, including several yearbooks. Maybe one day though, as it was doubtful my parents would ever throw anything away. Alas, I never found a diary or journal, even when I checked under the mattress. I sort of wished I had one. Who better to tell me what went and on and how I felt about it all, other than myself?
Dinner went a little smoother since I was beginning to feel like I belonged. No one hassled me with questions of the past or future. Instead, they simply discussed things they normally would’ve discussed whether I was there or not, save how I was studying to take the GED. I think Nick might’ve been responsible for keeping the focus of conversation off me this trip, and I loved him even more for it.
I received several rounds of hugs and kisses as we made our way out the front door, which ended up taking thirty minutes in itself. It was all still a little weird for me, but I didn’t want them to know that, so I put forth my best smile. My mother told me to eat more, my sister told me she’d start calling in the evening, and my father handed me a box that contained every single family video he could find. I was pretty sure my father and I had been a little more aloof compared to the relationships I had had with my mom and sister, because he only offered a side hug. And right now, I was sort of grateful, because I felt a little aloof about all of this myself. I could tell it was difficult for him to relay his feelings, but tears tried to overcome his eyes as I said my final goodbye, so I knew he loved me, too.
“Here,” my mom said. “One more thing for your bag.” With that, she tucked a sealed envelope into the front pocket of my duffel.
“What is that?” I asked curiously.
“Your birth certificate and social security card. You’re going to need them to apply for an Oregon ID since we no longer have your Washington driver’s license.”
“Oh, right.” I no longer had any form of ID. My license, my school IDs, everything I had in my wallet was long gone. I thanked her with a final kiss to the cheek and followed Nick down the walk. I sighed with relief when we sat in the car and Nick gripped my hand. “You did it. So how do you feel?”
“Exhausted. Emotionally and physically. And so ready to crash in bed when we get home.”
Grinning his agreement, he started the engine and began the long drive back to Portland. Truthfully, I was relieved that was over. They were incredibly nice people and Claire was lucky to have had them. I was lucky to have them. And I hoped the weirdness inside me would fade quickly, so I could embrace their love as fully and unconditionally as they seemed to share for me.
19
Nick and I finally fell into a routine. Every morning we’d get up around ten, have an early lunch and spend a few hours together, then around two in the afternoon he’d head off to work and didn’t return home until after midnight. I was relentless about checking the lock on the front door and still kept the lights on while he was gone, but I managed to cut back some, turning on just enough to keep the shadows away.
Thea wasn’t kidding about checking in every single evening. At first our conversations were short and involved a lot of silence on both ends, but the more we talked, the more we began to open up and share. So now our phone calls typically lasted an hour each night. It was kind of nice to get the girl’s perspective, especially from one that had known me my whole life.
My parents called every few days to keep tabs on me. At Nick’s suggestion, I began calling them Mom and Dad like I used to. He knew how much that would warm their hearts, so as long as I wasn’t uncomfortable doing so, he thought it would be a nice gesture. My first few attempts saying that felt a little unnatural, but the more I called them that, the more it began to feel right, so much that the words just flew out of my mouth second nature. Nick’s Mom called us during the weekends, when Nick was home from work. Everything was finally falling into place; my family, my studying (I planned on taking the GED in just four weeks), and I had applied for an official name change to Megan (though I kept Whitaker as my last name). It was almost as if my life seemed normal now.
So I guess it shouldn’t have surprised me when I got an unexpected visitor one night.
BAM-BAM-BAM!
My heart went spastic and jumped at my ribs, the banging on the front door scaring the shit out of me. Nick was long gone for work and my family wasn’t expected, so I had no idea who was banging so loudly on the other side of that door.
BAM-BAM-BAM! “Claire Whitaker?” A gruff voice called through the door. “This is Detective Alvarez. Please answer the door.”
Claire? Shit.
I carefully pushed back the chair from the breakfast room table and closed Nick’s laptop. Inching my way closer to the door, I braved a peek through the eye hole. I didn’t recognize the man, who appeared middle-aged, with dark honey skin and brown hair. Whoever he was, he wasn’t in uniform. Did detectives even wear those?
BAM-BAM-BAM! “Claire Whitaker?”
Tiptoeing along the hardwood, I snatched my new phone off the kitchen counter and hit the number two to speed dial Nick. After three rings, I realized it was already after seven o’clock. Dinner rush. What if he couldn’t answer the phone? My breath caught in my throat when his end of the line finally picked up on the fifth ring.
“Megan?” he said quickly. I could hear lots of voices muffled in the background, and also the sound of dishes clanging together. “This isn’t a good time. Are you alright?”
“I’m not sure,” I replied quietly. Another heavy knock, the man repeating my former name through the door.
“What do you mean you’re not sure? And why are you whispering?”
“There’s some detective at the door that won’t go away, like he knows I’m in here. He keeps asking for Claire.”
“Don’t answer it.” I heard his words clearly now, so he must’ve stepped inside his office.
“No?” I asked with relief.
“Megan, you’re clearly not comfortable opening it up for him, so don’t. Just because a cop is knocking on the door, doesn’t mean you’re required to open it. You have rights. Let me call Hank and I’ll have him deal with it. If he’s legit, he won’t object to making an appointment for us to meet him at the station.”
“Okay,” I said meekly.
He told me to sit tight and promised to call when he knew more. I retreated to the bedroom, closed the door and turned on the TV to drown out the BAM-BAM-BAM of his fist. Ten minutes later I got a text from Nick saying the cop left, and that he’d talk to Hank, the security guy, to find out more once the dinner rush passed.
Feeling a little better, I soaked in the tub for a bit, but my mind wouldn’t settle enough to fall asleep. By the time Nick got home, I had given up and crashed on the sofa with a novel. Unfortunately, my mind wouldn’t let me get lost in the world of paranormal romance either.
Usually, I was in bed by the time he came home, so surprise shifted his face when he saw me. He immediately came to kiss my forehead. “Hey, baby. Sorry. I didn’t think you’d still be up, otherwise I would’ve called sooner.”
I tossed the book onto the coffee table, the paperback slapping against the slate top. “Couldn’t sleep.”
Nick made his way to the kitchen, dumped his backpack on one of the barstools, grabbed a beer from the refrigerator, then settled in beside me. “Worked up over the cop?”
“Just a smidgen,” I said, pinching my thumb and index finger together to add my visual representation of a smidgen. “Any idea what he wanted?”
He shook his head. “No. He wouldn’t tell Hank any details but he left his business card for us. I’ll call him in the morning and find out what he wants.”
I leaned my head back over the cushion. “You worried it has to do with the fire?” he asked, combing his fingers through my hair.
“The thought’s crossed my mind like a hundred times tonight.”
He was silent for a moment. “Well, I’d be incredibly surprised if they put you in that house since no one knew you were there and any trace of your DNA would’ve gone up in flames. But it’s possible.”
I groaned, not even wanting to think of the repercussions of that mess could cause me.
“Megan,” he said in the voice that meant he wouldn’t continue until I made eye contact. Reluctantly, I rolled my head in his direction. “You’re not going to jail. Your dad mentioned last weekend that they told the cops they found you. They’re probably just following up with you.”
“Did my parents tell them what happened to me?”
“I don’t know. Probably a little because your file already suggests trafficking.”
I rolled my head back to stare at the ceiling: white, with a surface I figured wasn’t too different from what I expected the moon to look like, both smoothed and cratered. This sucked. Just when I thought I was moving on with life, trying to let some things from the past go free, I get sucked right back into the nightmare again.
Sensing my continued stress, Nick began swirling his fingertips on my scalp. It was heavenly. “Do you want to call your parents and ask if they’ve been contacted? Now that I think about it, the only way anyone would know Claire Whitaker was here was if one of your family members told them that. But even if they did, they obviously didn’t expect them to come here or they would’ve warned us first.”
“Yeah, you’re right. It’s probably just a follow-up.” I rolled back again. He looked as tired as I suddenly felt. “Will you go with me if they want me to come up?”
“Like I’d let you go alone. No offense, Megan, but it’s doubtful I’ll let you go anywhere alone ever again.”
Fine by me. Forcing a tired smile, I pulled his reluctant body to his feet so we could go pass out in bed together.
20
I felt like I swallowed a brick of dry ice. Stomach acid ate away at me, churning madly, burning the bottom of my throat. Nausea threatened to bring up the delicious frittata Nick made me for breakfast, one of those filled with colorful, freshly chopped vegetables. And I really didn’t want to see what that would look like coming up.
I leaned my forehead against the cool glass of the passenger door, hoping the rumbles from the road vibrating upwards through the car would ease me like they normally did.
A few days ago, Nick called Detective Alvarez, who so rudely tried to bring down our door like he was a freaking caveman ready to pull me down to the station by my hair. He was contacting me for one of the detectives working my case in Seattle. Apparently, Detective Farrow wanted to follow-up in person to close out my file. Even though Nick told him I didn’t know anything that would aid their investigation, the detective still insisted. There was no way Nick was going to allow me to go alone, and his only days off were Sundays, which of course was the detective’s day off, too. Already a little annoyed with Detective Farrow, Nick told him he could take it or leave it.
Unfortunately, he took it.
Bright side? At least I’d get to see my family again afterwards, because right now we were on a schedule to visit every other weekend. That way, Nick got the chance to stay home and rest all day at least once every two weeks. I hated that he was forced to do all of the driving these days.
When I asked him what ever happened to my car, he said that the police impounded it for evidence. “Good luck getting that back,” he had jested. And then he brought something very important to my attention. “Can you even remember how to drive?” After thinking on it…no, I couldn’t. I mean, I could remember the basics of a car, like turning the ignition and all, but I think I only remembered that part because I had seen Nick do it so many times now. The rules of the road, the little symbols all over the car…I could guess what they all meant, but I was no longer certain if what I was thinking was right.
The bastards took away my memory of how to drive. Obviously, it was just one more way to keep me grounded, but seriously, how’d they even do that? Now I was going to have to learn that all over again, too.
My eyes were closed now, as the landscape whipping by in blurs of green, brown and a bright sky blue, was hurting my eyes. Nick’s hand covered mine on my left thigh. “Look,” he said soothingly, “even if they’ve put you in the house that burned, there’s no way to prove you started it unless you openly admit to it. Right now, the only people who truly know what happened that night are in this car.”
I rolled towards him, the back of my head never leaving the head rest. “You didn’t tell my family?”
“Not that you started it, no. It’s not my secret to tell. And honestly, the fewer people who know the better, even when it concerns your family.”
He was taking the burden of what I did on all by himself. I of all people knew how that could eat away at you. I was always afraid it would make him look at me differently, knowing that I had intentionally allowed someone to die. I may not have set fire to the man directly, but I knocked him out, rendered his body useless as the fire consumed the structure around him. And then I told the fireman the house was empty so they wouldn’t risk their lives to go in searching. I killed him. And I was going to have to live with that the rest of my life. Took the decision for his life to end and crushed it within my grasp like it meant nothing. He went in a man and came out ashes.