Watching Trin by Freya Barker
Chapter 7
Trin
I had the talk with my sister.
As expected, it wasn’t easy for Vic to hear. Heck, it wasn’t easy for me to share. This was our father we were discussing after all.
I’m not sure if the conversation with Bodhi Sunday morning had bolstered me, but when Vic popped in at the hospital that afternoon, I took her aside and dove right in. There’d been disbelief and shock, and she wasn’t ready to talk about possible solutions, so I didn’t push. Not yet.
“How are you holding up, kiddo?” I ask Tuck sitting in the back seat.
“Fine.”
He’s looking a bit pale. He may have been released from the hospital but he’s still recovering. Although I suspect having been told we’d be discussing the consequences of his stupid stunt once we’re home may have something to do with it as well.
We have a follow-up appointment scheduled for next week but until then he’ll have to stay home, which means I’ll have my hands full.
Vic came to pick us up and has been rather quiet, other than to tell me a couple of the guys—including Bodhi—were asked to help with the recovery of the car wreck Tuck’s foot had gotten caught in. I admit I was a little disappointed I wouldn’t be seeing him. I’ve had some time to ponder what he said to me regarding my son, and I was hoping to thank him for opening my eyes.
Tucker doesn’t really have a role model in his life—no one to mirror himself after at this transitional age—and I was going to ask Bodhi if he had any suggestions. Maybe a Big Brother program or something similar, but I guess I can do some research myself.
Pops is at his program this morning so the house is quiet when we walk in.
“Couch or bed?” I ask Tucker, who is swaying on his feet.
The doctor had warned us he might be fatigued and even lethargic but not to be alarmed. His body went through significant trauma and it would take some time to recover.
“My room.”
“I’ll get him settled in.” Vic takes over, putting a supporting arm around my kid. “You go get cleaned up, you’re getting rank,” she teases with a smirk.
She leads Tuck upstairs while I put on a quick pot of coffee before grabbing a change of clothes from the study and head up after them.
“He’s asleep,” I announce when I get downstairs, clean and refreshed after my shower.
Vic is sitting at the kitchen table, looking pretty wiped herself as she cradles a mug in her hands. I go pour myself a coffee before sitting down across from her.
“You should get some sleep too,” I tell her, concerned with the drawn look on her face.
She hasn’t seen her bed yet after coming home after her shift, tackling Pops and shipping him off, and then rushing to the hospital to pick us up.
“I will, but first we need to talk.”
“Okay.”
Instead of speaking, she pulls back the sleeve of her shirt to show nasty bruising around her wrist.
“What happened?”
Her eyes well up.
“I was trying to help him get dressed but he insisted on wearing his uniform. Said he had an important meeting with the commissioner.” She stares at the bruise. “It’s amazing the strength he still holds in that frail body.”
I cover her wrist with my hand.
“I’m sorry, Vic.”
She pulls her hand back and wipes at her face.
“You know what kills me? I made a promise to him two years ago I’m not sure I’ll be able to keep. He still had some lucid moments then and begged me not to let him end up in a home.”
“I know,” I commiserate, “but the Pops we know would be mortified if he touched a hair on our heads. I don’t think he’d have asked if he could’ve foreseen this. He was always our gentle giant, remember? Our safe haven. I can’t make myself believe he would want this for us or himself.”
She drops her head in her hands.
“So what do we do?”
“We start looking into our options. Find resources that might be helpful. Look at care facilities specializing in the elderly like Pops. Seniors’ homes with dedicated dementia or Alzheimer’s wings. And in the meantime, we get some backup.”
I’ve had some time sitting beside Tuck’s hospital bed to think about this and was waiting for my sister to be ready to hear it.
“Nira offered,” Vic reminds me.
“I know and I thought about that. First of all, I don’t feel comfortable not paying her for her time so we’d have to come up with a fair hourly wage.”
“Agreed.”
“Good. Now I was thinking we’d be okay on the days Pops goes to his program. He’s usually tired when he comes home and naps until Tuck gets back from school. If we had someone the other two weekday mornings to help out, you could sleep when you come from a shift, and I’d have time to write, but there’d always be that extra person in the house.”
This time it’s Vic who reaches across the table and grabs on to my hand.
“I’m sorry,” she says softly.
“For what? No one could’ve foreseen this happening,” I reassure her.
“I know, but maybe if I hadn’t asked you to move here and uproot Tuck, he wouldn’t have—”
“Tuck was struggling before we moved here,” I quickly correct her. “One has nothing to do with the other. Bodhi gave me some insight in to what might be going on with my kiddo.”
I pass on Bodhi’s theory and share my plan to look into some kind of program to find him, but Vic seems to focus on something that has nothing to do with my son.
“He took you for breakfast? Like a date?”
I roll my eyes at my grinning sister.
“It’s not like that, it was just a friendly breakfast.”
“Sure. Keep telling yourself that,” she teases, getting up and carrying her mug to the kitchen.
“Look,” I defend myself. “A date implies an agreement, getting dressed up, and making a good impression. This was spur-of-the-moment, me in the sweats I slept in with my hair in a ratty bun, and I’m pretty sure I still had drool crusties on my face. Ergo, not a date.”
Vic starts laughing at me.
“You’re blind,” she concludes. “I’ve seen how he looks at you.”
* * *
Bodhi
The car creaks and groans as it slowly surfaces from the rapids.
Water sluices from the bottom of the wreck, dangling from the mobile crane the CBI forensics unit showed up armed with.
I ended up going down with their divers to pinpoint the location. It took a bit to find it back in the churning water. I could see the vehicle had been left mostly intact, despite the constant force of the water, but when the beam of one of the diving lights hit the driver’s side window, I wasn’t prepared for the gentle swaying of skeletal remains still strapped in behind the wheel.
“It looks like it’s been in the water for a while. That’s an old model Civic,” Cheddar says beside me. “I used to have one similar in college.”
It was a popular car. Like a lot of young guys at the time, one of my buddies had one and souped it up, installing one of those oversized mufflers and a spoiler kit. I’d been envious at the time, driving my mother’s old beater.
Durango PD shut down the street, diverting all traffic, but the activity seems to have drawn quite a few onlookers and even some reporters. Every neck is craned when the car hovers overhead before it’s loaded directly onto a waiting flatbed truck, where it is covered with a tarp.
“Appreciate your help, guys.” One of the agents approaches and shakes our hands. “The body was a bit of a surprise.”
“Yeah,” I agree. “Wasn’t expecting that. Any idea who the victim is?”
He looks back at the truck.
“Not yet, but it shouldn’t be too hard to find out. It’ll just take the lab some time, see if there’s anything identifiable left.”
“I’m surprised you didn’t remove the body for the medical examiner,” Cheddar comments.
“Not with all these gawkers around,” he says. “We’ll just transport the entire thing to the local police lab before we extricate.”
I nod, it makes sense.
“Anyway. I should get going. Thanks again.”
We watch him jog to the CBI van and get in.
“Yeah, I should head home too,” Cheddar supplies. “I want to catch a few winks before the kids come home from daycare. Otherwise I may as well give up on sleep altogether.”
I walk with him to where our vehicles are parked and get in my truck, ready to have a nap myself, right after I eat something. We came straight here from the firehouse after our shift, and I barely pieced together a couple of hours between calls.
My temporary lodging—the trailer I moved into two weeks ago—is just on the other side of the river. My fridge is pretty well stocked but I don’t particularly feel like cooking, so I end up pulling into the parking lot of the Pickled Egg. It’s a small restaurant serving only breakfast and lunch where our crew sometimes stops to eat.
The familiar old-fashioned bell mounted on the door jingles when I push it open. The mouthwatering smell of the grill greets me when I walk in.
“Hey, Bodhi!”
I look up to find Jeannie Anderson—daughter of the owners and one of my sister’s friends from high school—coming out of the kitchen carrying a few plates.
“Jeannie.”
“Why don’t you take a seat, I’ll be right with you.”
“I’m not staying,” I return, but she’s already off to deliver the orders.
I don’t have to wait long for her to approach me with a smile.
“So if I can’t get you to stay, what can I get you to go?”
“Breakfast burger, home fries, and a black coffee.”
She puts in the kitchen order and pours my coffee in a carry-out cup, handing it to me.
“Where’s the rest of your crew today?”
“Probably at home in bed by now.”
“How come you’re not?” she asks while getting a take-out bag ready with packets of pepper and salt, and some plastic cutlery.
“Had a few things to finish up.”
“Gotcha.”
She throws me a grin and grabs the coffeepot, stopping next to the occupied tables to refill the cups. I take another sip of mine, hoping my food won’t be too long. I’m beat.
A couple walks in and I recognize the guy as one of my old teammates from high school. We played football together. I remember he was an offensive guard, a big guy, and from the look of him he’s gotten even bigger over the years. I was a runt compared to the rest of the team but I had steady hands and could run like the wind. That earned me a spot as a running back.
The guy throws me a glance before holding out a chair for the woman with him. I don’t recognize her.
It’s funny, Durango is not a huge town—not quite twenty thousand residents—growing up here you’d think I’d see people I know all the time. Especially working as a firefighter. But after graduation people tend to disperse and there aren’t that many who remain in the same circles. I was always a bit of an outsider anyway and there were only a few guys I hung out with. We were the troublemakers, the rebels. When I came back from college in Arizona, those guys were long gone.
I’m still not a social butterfly but I have better taste in the company I keep. Mostly guys from work.
“Hey, I meant to ask you, how’s Anika?”
Jeannie slips behind the counter to prep a fresh pot, but keeps an eye on me.
“She’s fine. She opened her own salon last year.”
She looks surprised.
“Really? That’s amazing.”
To my great relief my order is ready, stopping the flow of questions. Jeannie is nice enough but she talks incessantly and I’ve reached my daily quota of aimless chatter.
Tossing a few bills on the counter, I grab my bag, and with a casual, “Thanks,” head to my truck.
I would’ve much rather listened to Trin talk, but that plan fell flat this morning. I wanted to call her myself to let her know I couldn’t make it for breakfast, but Vic refused to give me her number. I should’ve copied it when Vic tossed me her phone to call Trin early Saturday morning, but things were a bit hectic. She did promise to pass on my regrets and I hope she kept her word. I could probably find her number some other way, but I don’t want to come across as some stalker.
It takes me five minutes to scarf down my food when I get to the trailer and after a quick shower, I close the blinds against the midday sun and roll into bed. But the moment my head hits the pillow my phone pings on the nightstand.
303 759 3425: Thought I’d give you mine. Trin.