Nemo Resideo

Part 7

Mrs. Corson parked her car on the corner of S Morgan and W Maxwell Street, roughly fifty yards away and across the road from her destination, number 943. Turning the engine off and plugging the key from the ignition, she slanted her head to get a better view of the lumpen two-story building made of red and limestone brick through the windshield. The main entrance was on the north side, facing Flames Field, broad stony stairs leading up to slate-colored double doors with alabaster glass windows inserted into the wooden frame. Clean numbers and letters carved into a pane above the door identified the structure as the twenty-first district.

Climbing out of the vehicle, Gail rounded the car and grabbed a bag perched on the passenger seat before making her way to the building. The bag, or rather the several containers stacked atop one another, each filled with delicious homemade dishes waiting to be heated in the microwave and scarfed down, served as an excuse for her dropping by the precinct. People brought lunch to family all the time if they were in the area, she rationalized. It was a common friendly gesture, right? At least that was what she told herself and would tell anyone who decided to ask.

The truth, however, was that it was just a subterfuge to check in on Jay. Ever since dinner the previous night, she hadn't been able to shake an unsettling feeling that there was more to his injuries than met the eye. Literally. It was more than just the cuts and bruises and that Godawful looking boot-shaped print on the left side of his face which tied her insides into knots. Apparent in the subtle winces and stifled hisses as well as his overall stiff posture, his careful, almost dreadful movements every time he shifted his position just an inch. All of those were dead giveaways that the young lad was in a lot of pain, even if he would never admit to it in front of her for reasons that she'd never fully grasp.

Moreover, seeing him like this plunged her into this strange sense of déjà vu, reminding her of those first months after the former ranger had come home from his second tour, months in which the simple act of walking had appeared to cost him violent effort. And not just that. Back then, he'd been constantly surrounded by a dense fog of exhaustion bordering on enervation, emptiness if not forlornness. Sadness to a degree of quiet despair. It had been such a dangerous fusion of emotions that Gail had been undeniably scared many times. Not of him but for him. Yesterday, she'd seen glimpses of the same frightening blend, of the physical pain and the mental anguish, and she'd be lying to herself by convincing herself, or anyone else for that matter, that she wasn't worried. Because she was worried, tremendously so. Especially with everything that had transpired in the last couple of weeks and how much it had affected him. Hence her driving over here today.

As she ascended the white stone slabs, Mrs. Corson replayed the heavy conversation from last night's dinner, Danny's unintentional disclosure to Jay that if it had come to the worst, he would have taken the blame for Lonnie Rodiger's murder to clear the detective's name in an instant, without hesitation. Because after everything the young lad had done for them, after selflessly risking his career to provide peace of mind for them, it would have been the right thing to do. But she'd seen how much that admission had shaken the young man. How shellshocked and panicked and lost he'd been afterward. The guilt-ridden and grief-stricken expression on his face was etched into her memory, and so was his self-effacing insistence that he'd merely been doing his job, that they didn't owe him anything ever. It was almost as if...

Gail stopped dead in her tracks, realization slamming into her like a sledgehammer blow. The impetus of it caused her to momentarily lose her equilibrium. Stumbling two steps backward, she reached for the railing to her right in a last-ditch effort to keep from tumbling down the stairs and potentially spilling the contents of her bag. Her legs suddenly felt like jelly and tears pricked behind her retinas as the scales fell from her eyes: Jay didn't think he was worth it. He didn't think he was worth their love and affection, their reciprocated devotion to him when he was nothing short of devoted to them, had been since tragedy struck the family and probably long before that too. Why had she never noticed this? Why had she never picked up on the striking cues? They had been right under her nose all this time!