All Things Lost (37 page)
Authors: Josh Aterovis
“No!” she barked before I even had time to stand up. “Don't get the police involved.”
“Then tell us what's going on, Rachel. What are you so scared of?”
She turned around and walked slowly around the couch, where she lowered herself down carefully. “I knew what Ira had told Caleb, that I was dead. Do you have any idea what it's like to feel like your only chance to live
is
to leave your only child with a monster? I didn't want to lose him altogether, I never intended that. I wanted to see him, have visitation rights. I tried to leave Ira several times before I left him for good. The last time he beat me so badly I almost died. He told me that if I left him again I'd better never come back and that I would be dead as far as he was concerned. And if I did come back that he would make sure I was really was dead.
“I stayed a couple more months before it got to be too much. I had to get out of there once and for all. My aunt helped me set things up; new ID, new look, clothes, money, everything. It had to be a clean break. So I disappeared. I kept tabs on Caleb, though, mostly through my aunt. I knew he was doing well in school, I also knew that he thought I was dead. I thought it was best if I didn't confuse him by suddenly just appearing.”
“Wait a minute,” I interrupted. “How could you possibly think that it would be better for Caleb if he thought you were dead?”
“It's better than knowing I abandoned him, isn't it?” I wasn't sure so I said nothing. She went on, “When I started noticing the signs of abuse I was terrified. I felt so helpless. I called social services a few times, but nothing ever came of it.”
“So you decided to take matters into your own hands?” Novak asked.
“What do you…
Oh!
No! I did not kill Ira. Maybe I should have, but I didn't. And I refuse to think that Caleb did it either.”
“Why is that so hard to believe?” Novak argued, “You felt helpless and trapped and in fear for your life with Ira and you're an adult. Imagine being a child in the same situation. Maybe the only way he could see to escape was to kill him.”
Tears were rolling down her cheeks now. “What do you want with me? Why are you here? If you really think I killed Ira you would have called the police by now.”
“We don't know if you did or didn't kill anyone. That's why we're here. Can you prove that you didn't kill Ira?”
“How would I do that?”
“Where were you when he was killed?”
“I was…” She stopped and thought for a few seconds. “I guess I was at work.”
“Do you have a time card or anything that could prove that?”
“Yes or my boss would.”
“We'll be checking on that.”
“Are you done with me now?”
“I think so. It would be a good idea if you stayed put though, we may need to get in touch with you again and if we do I want to be able to find you without hunting you down. If we can't find you then we will contact the police and tell them you should be considered a suspect.”
She blanched slightly. “I won't go anywhere.”
“That's what you said before.”
“I won't. I swear.”
“I think you should talk to Caleb,” I inserted, “He deserves to know the truth.”
“What good could it do now?” she asked wearily.
“It could do a world of good,” Novak said softly.
She looked back and forth between us then tipped her head back and closed her eyes.
“He could really use someone right now,” I pressed.
“Just go, please.”
“But Caleb…”
“I'll think about, ok? Just leave me alone.”
Novak motioned me for the door and I reluctantly followed him out. I didn't say anything until we were down on the street again.
“She won't see him will she?” I observed sadly.
“No, I don't believe she will,” Novak agreed.
“He deserves to know he has a mother and she's alive.”
“I thought you didn't even like this kid.”
“I don't, not really. It's just that…”
“It's ok, kiddo; you don't have to explain anything to me.”
“But I want to. I don't even know if I really understand it though.”
“Then forget about it.”
We drove back to the hotel and decided that since we'd gotten all our work done early we would go do a little sight-seeing. I'd only been to
I left but I found I couldn't leave the case at the office. It was all I could think about, especially this mysterious Finnegan Byrne. Finally I couldn't stand it anymore. I signed onto
Great.
Nothing is ever easy, but then again, at least he wasn't a Smith.
I picked up the phone and started dialing. Eight calls later I hit pay dirt. When I asked if Finnegan was there I got a “Not right now, can I take a message?” instead of my usual “You have the wrong number.” I was so surprised to actually find the right number that I couldn't think of what to say at first and they had to ask a second time.
“Um, uh, no that's, uh, ok,” I stammered out. “Do you know when he'll be home?”
“That's like asking if I know when the winds
gonna
blow,” the gruff voice on the other end of the line said, “He comes home when he comes home. Are you sure you don't want to leave a message?”
“No, I don't think so.”
“Just as well, he never answers them anyway.”
“Then why do you ask?”
“It usually makes those calling feel a little better.”
“Does he have a job?”
“Finnegan?” they laughed. “No, he's probably at the beach or off practicing the bagpipes. I make him go far enough away that I can't hear him. There're plenty of wide open spaces for him to make as much racket as he wants around here without driving his mother and I insane.”
It took all I had not to repeat the word bagpipes. Who on God's green earth plays the bagpipes? It was beginning to sound like Olivia's diagnosis of eccentricity was right on the money.
“I'll call back later,” I said distractedly.
“Try around
. That's when we usually eat dinner and the boy seldom misses a meal.”
“Alright, thank you.”
I hung up thinking about Finnegan. He sounded like a very interesting person. I was both eager and apprehensive about meeting him.
* * *
It turned out I didn't have to call him back; he called me later that afternoon.
“Hello, this is Finnegan Byrne,” he said when I answered the phone. “You called here earlier today and I wasn't available. I was just wondering why you called me. May I ask who you are?”
“How did you get my number?” I asked feeling extremely confused, “I didn't leave a message.”
“I know; that's why I called you back. If you had left a message I wouldn't have. We have caller ID. Is this Adam Connelly?”
“No, this is Killian Kendall. I work for a private investigator. I was wondering if there was any chance we could get together and talk about Caleb Cohen.”
“Caleb? What about him?”
“Do you think we could meet and talk in person? I'd rather do it that way then over the phone.”
“Sure, no problem.
When's a good time for you?”
“Anytime is fine with me, I'm off today. When would be a good time for you?”
“How about now?”
“Now?”
“Yeah, I'm just sitting here at home doing nothing.”
“Ok, can you give me directions?”
He could and he did.
“I should be there in about fifteen minutes,” I told him when he'd finished.
“Great, that'll give me time to get dressed,” he said.
I hung up once again wondering just what I was getting myself into.
The Byrne house was fairly easy to find. It was just out of town in the general direction of the area the Cohen's had lived. The Byrne's lived in a large old two-storied farm house painted white with green trim. It was well kept and the large yard was meticulously maintained as well.
I climbed out of my car, which was still without a name, and walked up to the door. I raised my fist to knock but before I could the door swung open to reveal a little imp of a boy. He had curly light brown hair with blonde highlights, wide green eyes and full,
pouty
lips. His face was heart shaped and his nose turned up slightly at the end. His looks, though, were overshadowed by his attire. He was wearing a baggy gray t-shirt with the words “Think Big” emblazoned across his chest. That wasn't the kicker though; what really caught my attention was the fact that he was wearing a skirt. Well, maybe not a skirt. To give him the benefit of the doubt it might have been a kilt. It looked suspiciously like something Britney Spears might have worn in her first video.
“Are you Killian Kendall?” he asked brightly.
“Yes, Finnegan?”
I asked even though I thought it was a safe bet that it was he.
“In the flesh,” he said with a grin. He held out a hand and I shook it. “Sorry about the kilt,” he said in an off-hand manner. “I was going to change but I got distracted. There was a bug on my bedroom floor.”
“Ah,” I said. I didn't know what else to say.
“So you wanted to talk to me about Caleb?”
“Yes.”
“Great, let me change and then we can go for a walk.” He disappeared back into the house leaving me standing on the front porch. I didn't have to wait long though before he reappeared in a pair of army surplus camouflage pants and hiking boots. He set off purposefully across the yard and I hurried to catch up.
“So, what did you want to ask me?”
“Do you know Caleb?”
“Yes, I know Caleb.”
“How well?”
“About as well as anyone I suppose, maybe better than most.” We plunged into the woods at the rear of his property. It hadn't been cleared but there seemed to be a faint trail that we were following, the kind left by animals.
“Are you friends?”
“I guess you could say that. Caleb doesn't really have friends. He stays to himself; he has a lot of walls up to keep people out.”
“He's been hurt a lot,” I said without thinking.
Finnegan gave me a funny look but all he said was, “I
know
.”
“Did you ever talk about anything personal?”
“Maybe.
If we did it was told to me in confidence and I'm not about to just tell all to the first PI that comes trotting along.”
“I'm working for Caleb,” I said, stretching the truth just a little. “Don't you want to help him?”
“I would love to help him. I just don't know how telling his business would help him.”
“Did he ever talk about his dad?”
“Sometimes.”
“How did he feel about him?”
“He hated him,” he said matter-of-factly.
“Enough to kill him?”
“I don't know, maybe. I think it's in everyone to kill if they are pushed hard enough.”
“And was he being pushed hard enough?”
“Definitely.
But he'd never cracked before so I don't know if I believe he really did this time.”
“So you don't think he did it, just that he was capable of it.”
“Something
like
that.”
“Do you have any reason to think that he didn't do it?”
He looked over at me again, as if deciding how trustworthy I was. He stopped walking suddenly, so sudden I almost ran into him. We were at the edge of the forest area; it obviously wasn't as large an area as it appeared. He pointed out across the field in front of us.
It took me a minute to realize what I was looking at; it was from a different angle than I had seen it before.
“That's the Cohen's barn,” I said in surprise. And next to it on one side was Mrs. Fields' little house and a wall of trees on the other where the Haynes' lived. I looked over at Finnegan. “Why'd you bring me here?” I asked.
