Tracked

Chapter 1

(Edited)

'Why did I have to let her leave that night? Why didn't I make her stay home?' Sad and self-loathing thoughts swirl through my head as I think about October 8th, 2008. '6 years ago this October.' 

"Becca, are you alright? Why are you crying?" Hurriedly I wipe my face as Daniel Steel sits down next to me. My best friend watches me with intense worry. 

"N-nothing." The stutter in my typically confident voice tips Dan off and he wraps his strong arms around me. I gladly curl up in his chest, clutching his dark blue Abercrombie and Fitch sweater as Dan rests his head against mine. He doesn't question me and remains silent instead, allowing me to cry. For this, I am grateful. His arms unravel as I slowly sit up and gaze into the piercing green eyes of my oldest and dearest friend. Dan's face begs the question before his gently lips even utter it. 

"Becca, why were you crying?" His husky voice whispers the question cautiously, as though he believes I'll break if he asks too loudly.

"I was thinking about my mom's death." I mumble, watching as the gently summer breeze moves his short blond hair slightly. 

"You never told me what happened," Dan probes tentatively. Closing my eyes, I inhale deeply, attempting to mentally prepare for the story that will follow. "I didn't mean to pry," Dan says, trying to back out of what he's asked. As I open my eyes, I smile while Dan waves his hands back and forth, telling me 'nevermind.' Nervously, I reach out and take one of his flailing hands, which makes Dan freeze. Without releasing my grip, our gaze meets. Neither of us breaks eye contact, which would make me blush if I wasn't about to discuss my mother's death. 

"No Dan, it's about time I tell someone what happened." Nodding reassuringly, Dan drops his gaze and leans back against the oak tree behind him to listen. Silently, I sit in the green grass in the shade of this grand oak tree, conflicted about telling him even though I just said I would. 'Tell him Becca,' my heart tells me, as I lift my head to look at Dan. He sits silently in his cargo shorts, black sports flip flops and dark blue designer sweater. His forest green eyes reflect his emotions like water reflects the sun. Blond hair like the sand on the breach and a nice medium brown tan. Then I realize that I'm staring at him while he's still waiting for the story and I awkwardly clear my throat.

"It was October 8th, mom had gone out grocery shopping so her sister, my aunt Kaitie was babysitting. The one thing I remember about that night is that it was oddly late for her to be going grocery shopping, it was at least after 7:00pm. Mom always did the shopping in the late afternoon after she got home from work. Anyway, mom went out and dad was-well, where he always was back then; working. Later that night, while I was getting ready for bed, someone came and knocked on the door. Aunt Kaitie thought it was mom because she had a habit of forgetting her house key. Instead-it was Sergeant James Sanders, my dad's best friend from high school as well as his co-worker." I pause my re-cap and take a deep breath, preparing myself for the rest of the story. "The moment I saw him at the door, I knew something was wrong. Aunt Kaitie and I rushed to the hospital. My mother had been pronounced dead at the scene but we only heard the news when we arrived at the hospital. Mom had been involved in a fatal car accident about 10 minutes from home. And, in the room beside, was my dad. He got caught in an explosion in a case he was investigating. His arm was broken from the landing and he had broken a rib. Also there was lots of shrapnel in his right though and lower left arm. They had to do rather intense surgery to get it all out." Dan lays his hand on my thigh, giving me a sense of support while I finish telling him the remainder of the story. "When dad finally got out of the hospital, he told me that he quit his job. Though he never told me why, or told me how he still gets money from the police station for a paycheck." That's one thing that always confused me, were the money came from- looking at Dan's expression I can see he's thinking that too. 

"Aw Becca, I'm sorry." Dan cooes, his heart felt sympathies make my eyes well up. 

"The worse part, is that they refused to let me see my mom. All the adults just told me that it wasn't a sight for a little girls like me. I used to believe that, but lately I haven't been quite so sure."

"What do you mean Becca? Is something nagging at you about that night?" He watches me with intrigued confusion, but not surprise; Dan knows me too well to be surprised.

"It's just...how coincidental is it that the same night my father gets caught in a bomb blast-my mother dies in a car accident? I mean, they wouldn't even let me see her body to say goodbye. My mom! And the doctors didn't even-" my voice cracks as tears trickle down my hot face. Dan slides beside me and puts his arm around my shoulder. His hand soothingly strokes through my long, wavy brown hair. "What happened to my mom that the doctors didn't let me see her?" Dan doesn't answer and just continues to hold me close, letting me calm down completely. Once I am finished my breakdown, my mind begins to whirl, thinking about what really happened to my mom. After a few short minutes, it dawns on me and I sit up straight, startling Dan and causing his arm to fall off my shoulder.

"Did you think of something?"

"What if-my mom was with my dad when he got caught in the explosion and that's what killed her? It would explain why the doctor's wouldn't let me see her. Of course, there is the question about how the police got the doctors to lie and why my mother was with dad that night in the first place." I sigh and turn to Dan to see what he thinks. He leans against the rough bark of the tree, resting his hands on his knees while staring off into space. I know he's thinking because this is the way he always looks when he's deep in thought. But what I'm curious about is what he'll say.