Shoot Me Down

Part 27

I take out my frustrations on the forest. Kicking at rocks and pine cones in my path, scuffing my feet through the dirt. It’s immature, but still…it’s satisfying when I see dirt fly up under my sneakers, or a pine cone goes hurtling through the air in front of me. I’m actually making an impact on something. For once. The darkness swells and surges inside me, wanting release. My pale fingers twitch. I should be in there tormenting him right now.

            The clearing at the edge of the river is hemmed in by thick alder trees, and I push past the leafy branches, the rush of the river in my ears. Sam’s name is already on my lips. When I emerge into the clearing shock freezes me to the spot. There’s a man by the river. A real, living man. He’s facing me, the black lenses of a set of binoculars are pointed right at me. I gasp and stumble backwards, landing hard on my backside in the dirt.

            The man stays perfectly still. He doesn’t laugh at my clumsiness, or train his binoculars down to look at me. He doesn’t move. He can’t see me.

Really, what did I expect? I climb awkwardly to my feet, still on edge, brushing invisible dirt off my clothes.

            Cautiously I edge closer. Something about him is very familiar. The curve of his jaw, several days worth of stubble peppered with grey. The way he stands with his feet spread apart, bracing himself like he’s expecting someone to try to knock him over. I realize who this is before he takes the binoculars away from his face. The anger drops away instantly, replaced by shock.

            “Dad?” My mouth drops open. Why is he here at the river? I turn and look in the direction he’s pointing the binoculars. You can see the house through the trees from here, if you’re standing in the right spot. And maybe if you had magnified vision, then you’d be able to see in the windows too. My heart leaps, and suddenly I have hope again. It’s not likely that he’ll see Caleb doing something suspicious right away, but if he keeps watching…

            Dad snorts. His expression is digested, and I wonder what he’s watching. He probably sees Caleb lounging in front of the TV with his hands in his pants or something. I shift from foot to foot, barely able to contain my excitement. They’re not going to Toronto, it was a trick to throw Caleb off, and Dad’s watching his house. I feel myself swell with pride. My dad, the detective.  Sooner or later something is going to give. He’s going to see Caleb do something. He’ll figure it out somehow. It’s been ages since I’ve been this happy.

            There’s a faint shift in the wind beside me and Sam appears, curiosity written all over his face. “What’s going on. Who’s that?”

            I beam at him, “Sam, meet dad.”

            Sam studies my dad’s face and his eyebrows shoot up. “Wow, I haven’t seen him in forever…” his voice trails off as he takes in the binoculars. “Is he…”

            “Spying,” I say proudly. “He’s onto Caleb. He knows something isn’t right.” I smile at him, so big it makes my face hurt. “Maybe I’ll get to go with you sooner than I thought, if his detective work is good.”

            Sam looks startled, then his smile nearly matches mine. He reaches out and takes my hand. “Let’s hope your dad is a regular Nancy Drew.”

            Even if Dad is on to him now, I’m still going to do my part. This haunting stuff would be way more effective in the dark, but each night Caleb takes Nakia to bed, and no matter how hard I try, I cannot add to her terror. Little things aren’t working now. The lights flickering don’t even seem to bother him anymore.  He simply looks up and shrugs when nothing else happens. Finally that evening I get my chance. Dusk is falling, and Caleb is sleeping on his back on the couch. Nakia is talking to her mother on the phone. I can hear her voice faintly down the hall, high and frustrated. Her mother is asking her for money and Nakia is telling her she doesn’t work every day after school to buy her parents booze. I’d only had the “pleasure” of meeting her parents once, when we were both thirteen. I remember being astonished at how filthy their house was, and balking at the strong fumes of alcohol and unwashed skin whenever her parents came into the room. We’d never gone back to Nakia’s house after that.