“Listen, I’m thrilled you’re here.” Becky stands. “I am. I agree you need to contact your mom. You know she would want to see you. Jerry too.”
I let out another breath.
“But leave the coach’s death alone. Of course there are rumors, but Serena and Joey don’t need to be reminded. Everything that happened before is water under the bridge and all that shit, but damn, he’s gone and his family needs to go on. Let them.”
I blink my eyes as her advice settles in. Instead of replying, I stand. “Hey, let me walk with you out to your car. I need to get my suitcase and groceries. And then I think I’ll call it a night. It’s been a long day.”
Becky reaches forward and embraces my shoulders, pulling me close. Her long brown hair tickles my nose as the aroma of flowers fills my senses. When we pull apart, she grins. “I’ll be in touch. Let me know if you change your mind about staying out here and decide to go to your folks. No biggie either way. If you want it, it’s yours for two weeks.”
“Thank you, Becky. Thanks for everything. For being there when I needed you. I wish I...”had been there to save you from the monster you married.
I don’t say that. She knows my thoughts.
“I love you,” I add.
“Like a sister. Forever.”
Together we walk back to the cars as the rain continues to fall.
Chapter
Five
Sometime during the night, the rain finally stopped. The constant pitter-patter and howling winds reminded me of the thunderstorms that can hit this area. Thankfully, last night was mostly only soaking rain. Now, I’m sitting on the front porch. I have a blanket from the spare bedroom wrapped around me, holding a warm cup of coffee, and staring out at the glassy surface of Stark Lake.
Due to the earliness of the season, and barely after sunrise—my body clock is all messed up—there isn’t a soul around. The only sounds are bird songs and those noises made by small creatures scurrying through the remnants of leaves still present on the ground.
I choose to believe those creatures are chipmunks and squirrels, not mice or snakes.
One would think I would have slept later, considering there is a three-hour time difference to California, yet I didn’t. In a nutshell, I didn’t sleep well at all.
Last night after Becky left, I brought my things intothe cottage and contemplated opening the bottle of wine. After searching for a bottle opener, and finding one—thank you, Mr. and Mrs. Harrison—I changed my mind. Between the traveling and emotions of being back to Blue Gil, I decided to spend the rest of the evening doing what I do, what I explained to my friend that I do—research.
Beck said what I do is fiction. It isn’t.
The screenwriters create fiction. The man you see on your television isn’t truly dead. He’s spent hours in makeup. Special-effect experts staged the scene. Oftentimes, that is all it takes. Make fake look real—the perception. Give the viewer a bit of reality here and another tad over there, fill in the blanks with the desired illusion, and boom, the viewers are convinced.
Let’s say that the goal is to create a scene that represents professionalism. The first step is to make it look less real and more up to expectations. The scene is set with an impressive office, a modern desk with large computer screens, and a backdrop of windows.
I mean, seriously, do viewers really think that every successful businessperson has that view?
Currently, the answer is yes.
Back in the day before I participated in productions, that look included a stately bookcase, hardcover-bound books with spines depicting golden titles. The point being that creating the scene is as important as what is said or done. The information that we give the visual-effects specialist is as vital as the script.
Last night, I pulled out my laptop. After changing into pajama pants and a t-shirt, securing my hair in amessy bun, and making sure the cottage was secure, I sat cross-legged on the bed in the bedroom I chose.
Basically, the two bedrooms are mirror images of each other, perfect for someone who hates making definitive decisions. I chose the one to the left because I found one difference. In the one I chose, the windows look out to the lake instead of the parking area.
With the only illumination coming from the small lamps on the bedside stands, I turned on my computer and logged on with the passcode I found.
My job allows me right of entry to records that others can’t access.
Last night, I accessed the Mills County Medical Examiner and made a request on behalf of the production company. Permission isn’t a sure thing, but I had to try.
My message was standard fare: Looking for information regarding abandoned deceased victim. Time of year, spring. Conditions, varying temperatures and wetter than normal. Victim, male. Read an obituary of recent DOA. Any information is appreciated.
I hit send.
