Letters to Maxine

CHAPTER 36

Confession

1

I stood outside the hospital with Keegs. Maxine's father was still upstairs, and I felt uncomfortable with him. Especially since he didn't acknowledge me or offer thanks for saving Max's life.

Keegs handed me a backpack with a change of clothes since I was still in uniform. And he gave me tobacco pouch number eight.

We walked away from the entrance and toward a memorial gazebo across from the spinning glass doors. For whatever reason, we stopped by a square brown garbage can with four openings and an ashtray on top.

"Keegs, did you notice anything funny about that guy last night? What he was wearing?"

"I'll tell you what I did notice," he said. "By the time I hit the wood line, he was gone. He couldn't have had a five-second head start on me. It was as strange as they come, my man."

Keegs took back, opened the new tobacco pouch, and put the wrapper atop the garbage can. For whatever reason, I noticed the white sand in the ashtray. It seemed torpedoed by spent cigarette butts and gum wrappers. Some were pushed down to the filter; others, half-smoked, crushed and crinkled.

"You know what Keegs? I need to go back and get a look at the scene." I took my phone from my front pocket, entered my PIN, and swiped to Maxine. Opening her profile, I texted.

                                             Max, if you feel up to it, can you tell me if you remember anything about 

                                            last night? Not the attack itself but what he was wearing, how he smelled,

                                            and if you got a look at him as he ran away.

I pushed send and then thought for a moment. Well, I'm already there, so why not?

                                           I love you!

"Oh shit," said Keegs. Thinking he had caught me, I jammed my phone in my pocket. "You're nine o'clock inbound and hot. Your dad and uncle. That's my cue."

I'm not sure why he was afraid of them. Well, my uncle more than anyone. It always made me laugh, but not today.

He gripped my hand and hugged me, then walked past them, heading to his Mustang.

I saw my dad walking towards Keegan and stopped him as Uncle Mike circled his finger for Keegs to turn around.

2

The four of us hovered over the massive garbage can with the built-in ashtray. My father and uncle were gulping their morning coffee as Keegs and I spat from our morning chew.

They didn't engage in small talk or pleasantries except for asking about Maxine and her prognosis. My uncle went straight into it.

"This freaking thing stinks," he said. "Let's move to the gazebo."

We crossed the driveway, the sidewalk and through the entrance Huppah. In the garden, someone erected a memorial podium, four feet tall. The Star of David ornamented the solid base. On the lectern, a bronze plaque contained the name of a dedication from the Wrightman family. Hebrew writing covered most of it, except for the words Donations from Binai Israel and Two Thousand and Six. And it didn't matter because he covered the plaque with the file.

"Alright, so here's what we know," he said. He skimmed through the papers in the extended end-tab folder held in place with two thin metal fasteners.

"This guy waits for his victims in small dug-out covered burrows. So far, K-9 has found six within a mile-and-a-half radius just into Haley's Woods, off the tracks."

He looked at my father, who nodded and put his hands in his front pockets.

"We think the Ethan Martin kid is involved," said my father. "At some point, these girls get lured to the commuter platform and make their way into the woods, where he grabs them."

The exhaustion caught up to me. I yawned several times and found it difficult to focus. My body felt drained and ready to collapse, the adrenaline surge spent.

"Do you really think an eighteen-year-old kid could do something like this?" asked Keegs. "I mean, that's pushing it, no?"

"He's the point man for sure," I said. "Maxine emphasized him in her texts. His varsity jacket, demeanor, and basic identifiers. Did you lock him up? Question him?"

Another yawn sent a chill through my body. After wiping my eyes with my palms, I walked closer to the lectern holding my uncle's folder.

"He lawyered up right away, and mommy and daddy weren't supporting the cause. We're getting ready to charge him with three counts of aggravated sexual assault through chemical influence."

When the haze left my eyes, I saw my uncle and father looking at each other. My uncle squinted, and he sucked on his cheek. My father pursed his lips, looked at the ground, and sighed.

"Son," he said. "I need you to send me all the texts from Maxine and keep quiet about this for now."

They turned toward me and stared. My shoulders dropped as I felt anxiety rising from my stomach and spine. I wanted to go to sleep and wake up to this whole thing finished.

"Bongiovanni and Bellagamba are asking the wrong questions right now," said Uncle Mike. "They're out for blood and are trying to pin this whole thing on you, nephew."

"How's that?" asked Keegs.

"Because his boot gave the two of you more functional information than she did over the wire. And they're claiming malfeasance on you, nephew, for usurping their authority and compromising the safety of the Embed."

Keegs nodded and then looked at me. His eyebrows raised, and he tilted his head as if prompting me to speak. I wasn't sure what to say and hadn't yet mulled it enough to give an opinion, but that didn't matter to Keegs.

"Bro," he snapped. "Tell them."

At that point, I had nothing concrete that made any sense. In the literal blink of an eye, this guy was through the RMP's lights. Anything that I could offer meant nothing.

"Dude." Keegs threw his hands out at his side and pushed his head forward. "I barely got a look at him, but he was like a freaking ghost. But, Kelly here said there was something weird about how this guy dressed.," he said.

The three of them stared at me, their intense gazes making my discomfort increase with every moment. When my Uncle Mike folded his arms with tongue in cheek, Keegs grunted.

"Just tell them, I mean, bro—"

"Alright already. Listen. I could swear this guy wore a parka and wore some sort of over pants. It had a weird pattern that reflected or changed in the strobe lights. And I only saw him for a split second, but it's stuck in my head."

My uncle straightened his arms from the placard and went stiff. My father looked at him before looking at me.

"I think you need to see what we've found," he said. My uncle agreed. He closed the file, walked from behind the podium, and started toward the driveway. He reached and put his arm around my shoulder when he passed me.

"Get out of your duty uniform, clean up," he said. "You're going to need to see this."