Gone After the Wind

Chapter 21: The Green Truck

Time seemed to be slipping out fast than usual as Cara chased Mr. Robinson outside. She kicked the door open with a force that would provide her enough space to slip out. When she did, she closed the distance between through half-running to the spot where Mr. Robinson's truck was located. He was wiping off some dust on the windshield when Cara reached him. His broad and lumpy back tensed, and his head perked in alert as Cara's footsteps became audible within his earshot.

"Mr. Robinson?" Cara called, clearing her throat. "Mind if I have a word with you for a moment?"

The man turned at once, his eyebrows leveling and his lips forming into a scowl. The small mustache he had bristled as he breathed violently. "For what? I don't even know your name, missy."

Trudging past the condescending name, Cara advanced forward and stretched her lips into a small smile. "About Sandy Hupman. You were her regular customer, weren't you?"

Mr. Robinson's squared face went blank. Despite being shadowed by the brim of his cab, his eyes expressed something that Cara can relate to grieve and shock. His body stiffened as though the whole world had stopped moving right then. Took him seconds before he responded, acting like the name didn't bring significance to him. He looked away. "You're wasting time with me. I don't know anything about that woman."

"'That woman'? Do you always prefer her in that term? Of what I heard about your history, though, you wouldn't dare to alter her sweet name like that."

"The f**k you know?" he snapped, meeting Cara's gaze with fury. He aggressively threw the cloth on the ground, and moved closer in a domineering, and intimidating stance. Cara, who anticipated his violent reaction, didn't flinch and let him do what his antagonistic perception whispers to him. "You arrogant b***h. Who the hell are you to show up on my face and question what I do? Because you're a cop?" He spit on the space between them. "Get off my face now. Before I do something that would land me in total shit."

"I'll ignore the threat and the insult," Cara answered, and showed her badge. "I admit that was unexpected, and presumptuos but I require you to answer my questions, Mr. Robinson. As what you've probably deduced, I'm with the police, but not a cop. I'm the detective leading the investigation of Sandy Hupman's death. I chased you off because you have some information I must to know. You were close with Sandy Hupman, right?" Cara raised her palm when his mouth was about to open. "I only heard it from the diner. They didn't disclose your full history but I don't need it to learn what Sandy Hupman was to you."

Mr. Robinson scoffed, regressed to his original position when Cara arrived earlier, his eyes almost rolled at the absurdity he thought of it. He wasn't that tall, but he had a body that could do well in martial arts. With his brooding stance, any stranger would hesitate to approach him. His body and physical structure looked unlikely for a man that was already in late fifties.

"Whatever you heard was just a bunch of speculation. Can't believe a detective was fooled by an old hag. So what if I had given her ride for more than one occasion? Is there a law that forbids that?"

Cara pocketed her badge. "If there was, the number of unsolved murders would have probably decreased."

"I was only being kind to her, okay? We weren't as though spending our time on each other's bodies everytime I fetch her off," he explained, opened the backseat of his truck and leaned against the cushion. "Out of those nosy ladies you've met, it was Felia who produced and fed on to that silly idea. None of them ever asked Sandy why I always accompany her. Or even dared to know why she was always on edge everytime her shift end. Acting so concern wherein they chose to nourish those rumors instead of taking care of her."

"Were you the only one, though? Who were complemented by such... unresolved hersays?"

"People with mouth and mind like that, do you really think they'd stop at one subject?" He scoffed. "Think twice about that, missy. They never would. I was the first man that came into Felia's mind because among the men that she tried to link with Sandy, I was the only one who showed true fondness and support to her."

"Are you aware that he's married? What about her husband? Did he know about your little friendship?"

Mr. Robinson darted a sharp look to her. "I'm not a paramour, if that's what you're implying. Our relationship was platonic. Nothing more than that."

"Okay." Cara nodded, unconvinced. "Supposing that was the truth, was that the reason why you kept her always safe against that unindentified van?"

He nodded a bit. He hung his head low, making the expression on his face untraceable. "It started out as a plain favor, one thing that I originally did not expect to come from her. Sure, we converse from time to time that I dine in there but that was it. It didn't cross my mind that she would... consider me as a reliable companion and she would entrust me her own safety. I was just a loyal customer and she was the generous waitress. Who'd have thought she'd confide to an old fart and lonely man like me?" He sniffed violently, the reminiscing had apparently opened some unhealed wounds. "Anyway, after we came to an agreement that I'd provide her a ride home, she started to feel less threatened. Until it became a hobby."

"When did it start?" Cara asked, lowering her body to squat.

"Two days after that truck showed, Sandy asked me that favor."

"Did you saw how she reacted the first time she saw it?" Cara asked cautiously, maintaining the low and soft tone as to not tick him off again even though her excitement was already choking her.

"Yeah. She wasn't who noticed it but she had the most unforgettable reaction. I remember... seeing her eyes grow extra wide and her skin paled like a clean sheet of paper. Though she acted like it didn't bother her, I was able to tear that facade off after I confronted her about it. She said, she had been seeing the same truck in several places she had been before. In grocery stores, in the clinic where she sometimes check-in, and in the school where her son was studying. At first, she reclined to the thought that maybe it was just a coincidence. It's possible, isn't it? Redvine has a population that could support that theory."

"When she saw it outside where she worked, she began to think differently," Cara continued.

"Exactly. She was afraid. Extremely afraid. I can't think of other words to describe it."

Cara fell into deep thoughts. She couldn't respond nor formulate any sentence to keep the conversation going. This newly discovered clue has triggered all the areas of her brain, enabling her thoughts to gush and flood like water from a punctured barrel. She felt drowning, slowly sinking into it. Thankfully, the man was fast to read the situation and he spoke again.

"We were always on edge everytime we see it coming. You could feel the tension slowly rising in the diner, and the apprehension was too thick to miss. Then we decided to confront the driver but we gained nothing because before we could talk to whoever was operating the truck, it sped off."

Up until to this part of the narrative, the option of involving the police hasn't still been considered. Cara didn't know what to believe. Whether it was Sandy who blocked that decision or their indecisiveness and little care to the matter. For some reason, it started to irritate her.

"Did it come back?"

He shook his head. "After a day, it didn't. Then two or three days, it showed up again. Surprisingly though, Sandy was no longer worried by it. She started to shrug it off, and so, all of us did the same, too."

"You still gave her a ride home after that?"

"Yeah, it's part of our agreement, and my... special treatment to her. I then asked her why she decided to let it go. She answered that perhaps, it was just one of her father's men, doing surveillance to keep up with her current activities. Her father's the senator, you probably know about that. And it has been years since she came home... so it was understandable."

"When did it stop?"

"One and half a week after it started. We didn't notice its absence because Sandy wasn't concern anymore. We decided to leave it alone and go on with our lives. I still give her rides, though."

With furrowed eyebrows, Cara looked down on the ground. That's five days before the disappearance. The visitings probably stopped because he knew it wasn't needed anymore as the time for his performance would come five days after.

"Apart from you and the other staffs, is there someone who, atleast, see or notice something memorable from that car?"

"We couldn't discern its model, but we certainly didn't see any plate number." His foot tapped the ground, and his fingers started to fiddle the cap. "I'm not sure if I'm in the right position to point fingers but you should go straight at Santine. He knew better than I do."

"Santine?"

"Yeah, he was the only crazed one to ever forced a contact with the driver. I don't know if it was accidental but we saw him peeking through the driver's window, and talking to the person inside. It was brief but we ascertain that he had a glimpse of the driver. We couldn't ask him about that because the same day that it happened, he assaulted Sandy."

Cara nodded, scribbling all of that in her little notebook. Silence stretched, and Mr. Robinson rose up to his feet, scrambled towards the driver seat. "Are we finished? Did you get what you wanted?"

"More than enough," Cara answered, shutting the notebook, slip it inside her pocket. "As part of the protocol, Mr. Robinson, and please don't be offended this time— where were you on the night Sandy disappeared?"

He may have been useful, but only the evidence and the truth that could tell he was innocent. All of the emotions he registered in front of Cara, and the narrative he had spoken, might have been just ingredients on his ploy to evade the spotlight. There are so many possibilities to be explored of, regarding his name and relationship with the victim. Until he provide a solid alibi, he won't be exterminated from the list.

Doubt is a powerful instrument that Cara shouldn't forget to use.

Cara examined his face as he spoke. Every flutter of his eyelids, twicth of his lips and gestures he make were scribbled on her memory. "At home, celebrating my daughter-in-law's birthday with my distant family. I can give you their names and numbers, if that's what would make your skepticism go away."

Cara gave him a short piece of paper in which he filled with five names and their respective contacts. Below, was his contact information. "Call me if you think of something. While we check this out, refrain from leaving the town as we might have further questions. Understand?"

With one final scrutiny and sneer at Cara, Robinson nodded before he climbed on the driver's seat. The car rattled as it started, and soon, it drove off. Cara watched as it drifted, and disappeared into the vastness of the road. She walked back on the trail she had ran before, her mind dissecting every part of their conversation. Ahead of her, Agent Rose was leaning against the car, smoking a cigarette and observing her as she neared.

"Well?" she prompted, puffing a smoke onward that temporarily filtered her face from view. "Was he cooperative?"

Astounded that the agent was familiar at using cigarette, Cara couldn't accustomed herself to answer that without being distracted. Her gaze flicked into the cigarette that was now burned half, and shifted again to the agent's face. She cracked a small smile. "Let's talk about it over the ride."

Agent Rose shrugged. "I'll just finish this."

Ten minutes later, they were back on the steamy road, headed to their original route. Only the difference was, Agent Rose was now on the driver's seat, casually handling the car and not smoking anymore. Cara, on the other hand, sat on the front seat, arranging the information they gathered by simply putting a bullet on each one and placing dates that corresponded to the story both Felia and Mr. Robinson had told to establish a timeline.

"I still don't get it," Agent Rose said in a clipped voice, sharing the same frustration as Cara had while hearing the story. "How could they not think of consulting the police? Even if the victim was indeed reluctant and stubborn to involve them, one of them should have forced at breaking her discretion. Remember, they were dealing with two stalkers at once. Just the thought of it was already unnerving, if not disturbingly enough."

Cara flipped the page of her notebook. "Maybe they were indeed utterly concerned, but the fear of getting caught up with the senator's name had certainly repressed them from taking action. That prick—" She cleared her throat, disguising the last part with the its raspy sound. "I mean, the senator was known for being a disagreeable fellow, and unpleasant towards civilians. It's bad news if you mess up with him. He's not someone who'd take things legally and righteously. He could be anyone he want behind his title."

"Is that based on news or experience?" Agent Rose smiled, almost conspiratorial.

"You could say both." Cara chuckled wryly. "Anyway, there were clear indication of trepidation around the time it was happening. Sandy's opinion and feelings were the major stressors of the problem. They moved based on what behavior she displayed. When she started acting as though it didn't concern her anymore, they didn't pry on the matter and let things run its course—the very same thing they did on Santine."

"So the victim holds all the key points to the whole story, huh?"

"She was the main character, the center of the major plots, and the actress behind the curtain. It would be a completely different story if she hadn't acted the way she did, or the sub characters had followed their instinct, " Cara sighed dramatically, tapping the pen on her thigh. "I don't buy her story that the truck was from her father's welfare. Knowing Senator Meredith by nature, he wouldn't resort to such cheap trick like that. If he wished to know his daughter's current life, he'd do it discreet but not in a way that would discard any signs of his wealth."

"Let's just add him and his family on the list, and see what can we gain from asking him directly." Taking a sharp turn, the wind blew violently at both sides of the car. Noon was over, and the temperature on the road has decreased comfortably. Cara could no longer her own sticky sweat, and the warm atmosphere wasn't included in her concerns anymore.

"We'll plan out our next move once we talked with Santine. If Robinson's claim corroborated with Santine's words, then we'd have a series of leads to chase. Not bad for the first week, huh?" Using her free arm, Agent Rose pulled out her cellphone, manipulated something on it before offering it to Cara. "Give that list to one of the men in the task force. Have it checked. Thoroughly, if they must. The last thing we'd both want is be surprised that we had let a criminal walk away. Ensuring Robinson's innocence won't just lessen our work, it would also shave off the nagging feeling I still have against him."

Cara straightened up the paper so the creases won't hinder its appearance on the camera. One shot, and she e-mailed it right away to the station. Composed under the photo was the set of instructions Agent Rose had laid out and few details about the progress they had made. She also included Eric on the recipients, just in case he'd become curious and ask for some updates. Once she was done, she returned Agent Rose's mobile phone and proceeded completing the small timeline she has been sketching on the back of her notebook.

Because Santine's address was only nine miles away from the diner, and two miles from Redvine town, fifteen minutes of screeching the road with inconsiderable speed and the Polilian neighborhood rose into view. Sloped at the foot of a hill, it looked like a cluster of inconspicous war shelters rather than a normal home of a small community, with bricks served as walls and stones used as roofs. Such rare type of houses was a rare sight for Cara, she couldn't help her amazement as they passed the gate and travel through the one way street. It appeared as though the inhabitants were nomads who had now spotted their last destination and had chosen to finally settle. The dilapidation engrossed on each houses they passed was too severe to ignore, the government was probably missing it way too often. Worse,

"Looks like we're the first foreign company who had landed in here," Agent Rose observed, pertaining to the curious stares stalking them as they proceeded. The then closed front wooden doors were now unlatched and bolted open. Standing on each doorway were the carries of those watchful eyes, silently taking them in, contemplating what pushed two women in an unmarked vehicle to stop by in their place.

Wincing at the derelict appearance of the kids' outdoor, Cara shove down the pity blooming in her chest and forced herself to be stoic. She had to remind herself that whatever problems or issues preventing these people to evolve their lifestyle was beyond her reach or her concern. Santine was the target. She must not go away from that.

She averted her gaze, and looked ahead of them.

"What street are we looking for again?" Agent Rose asked, the car slowing down as they reached the small intersection, leading up to two direction. One was a straight path to the forest, and the last was towards another row of houses.

"Sturland street. On our right, I think." Cara jerked her thumb to the right. "The only trailer we'll find."

"He wasn't a native resident, was he?" Agent Rose inquired, turning the wheel to the right, and renewing the original speed of the car.

"No, it was only recent when he moved here. That was five years ago," Cara answered, perusing the file of Santine on her phone. "He was a runaway, a former citizen of Redvine who escaped through their household by jumping on a garbage truck. His family reported him as a missing person for only two weeks, after an appearance he made at the diner. Someone had recognized him eating there, reported it to the police and notified the family so they could fetch him up. The attempts to reclaim him resulted to nothing, though."

"They just let him go...?"

"Uh-huh, because Santine claimed he experienced abuse while living with them. Wanting to escape the outrage, the family didn't press on and just let the little boy have his freedom."

"Was it proven, though? The abuse?"

"It was stated here that..." Cara squinted her eyes. "yes. The abuse was real. Some neighbors and acquaintances backed up Santine's story. The credibility of his story won the hearts of the authorities so as a support to the depraved boy, they provided him a place where he wouldn't be experiencing more of the torment his family had caused him."

"But certainly, this wasn't the place they had chosen?" Agent Rose gaped. When Cara stopped reading, and looked back at her, incredulous at the sudden curiousity, she smiled sheepishly and returned her gaze back up front. "Sorry. I'm just interested at his background. I didn't read the whole file so..."

Smiling awkwardly, Cara breathed, "It's okay. This is my first time learning about his past, too. And it's already instructive. We haven't reached the half yet."

"I don't think we need to learn that anymore," Agent Rose responded, the lightness of her voice fading slightly. Her eyes were captured by something at her side.

Cara traced her line of vision and immediately understood what she meant. The suppose large trailer portrayed on the reports was overtly inaccurate and impossible to be compared in its actual state. Whether the report was referenced out of standardized context, or it was created before the vines of the nearby tree snaked around the other half of the trailer or before Santine had fed the insatiable desire of his inner demons, letting his home suffer as consequences.

To put it in plain description, the whole lot was a mess, almost similar to a landfill as tons of garbage were omnipresent, constantly blocking the grass from growing and corrupting the flow of nature. A mountain of car parts and other abandoned tools was on the left side. If the bulb on the assembled front porch wasn't glowing, Cara wouldn't even think a human being was living there. It certainly struck them as a den of wild animals.

Agent Rose pulled over next to the mail stand, Cara searched for telltale signs that could indicate Santine was home. She wasn't, not at all, baffled that a wretched, old and small motorcycle was the only vehicle occupying the somewhat garage on the far side of the lot. She didn't expect to find the green truck, though it would be great if she indeed found it here, as the witnesses' accounts and his profile had exterminated him from the list of the possible owners of that vehicle.

They climbed out of the car with silence filling them in. Though it was unnatural for Agent Rose to let a moment go by without making some random comments or asking open-ended questions, Cara, for the first time, felt grateful and unbothered she didn't press any topic to fill the silence. Thoughts about these kind of situations are much better to be left unsaid, or thrown out of the window as it might get the atmosphere more depressing and unsettling as it already was.

With her eyes still canvassing the area, Cara allowed Agent Rose to take the lead, and tailed behind her as she walked briskly onto the pathway. Only then, Cara noticed that the tiny squared window on the center part of the trailer was opened slightly, the flower embroided red curtain danced tediously along the waves of the wind. Her gaze flitted across it until her eyes unconsciously drifted towards the woods stretching beyond the trailer.

For a split second, Cara caught a glimpse of what appeared to be as a shadow, skulking behind a group of bushes. It disappeared within a blink so she wasn't sure if her eyes or her mind was just playing nasty games or someone had been watching them from that distance.

Her eyebrows furrowed. She stopped walking and stared at it, hoping neither of those were true.

"Let's not give him a tough time, shall we?" Agent Rose voice snapped her back. "Detective Black?"

"Hmm?" she replied. "Uh, what?"

Agent Rose shot her a curious look. "You good?"

Cara swallowed hard before feigning a somewhat acceptable expression. Raising her both eyebrows in a fake curiosity, "Not in the slightest. Do I look exceedingly calm?"

Obviously not buying that, Agent Rose's prying eyes traced the direction she was looking earlier. Her expression softened after. "I'd be aghast if you were. I mean, it's a bit hard to be forthcoming but all of this is distressing. Poverty stricken neighborhood never sits well on me. Not to mention we have to question a dysfunctional individual. It's getting to me. 'Bout you?"

"Just the same," Cara answered, retracing her steps with her head down.

Agent Rose sighed perfunctorily. "Come on, let's get this over with." Proceeding to the porch, she landed three hard knocks on the door. "Mr. Santine? Are you home? I'm with the FBI, and the Albreska PD. We need to speak with you for a moment. This is rather urgent, by the way, so come out with diligence before we help ourselves to get through this door."

They waited in silence. No response was ever made.

"Mr. Santine?" Agent Rose called out.

Cara was nearing to think they were talking to nothing when she heard a languid set of footsteps echoing inside. Various noises erupted following it, before the latches were unclasped and the door opened. Slowly and with hesitance. A paled face peeped through the small opening.

"Yes?"

"Are you Kyler Santine?"

His distrustful blue eyes moved reluctantly. "I am. What's this all about?"

"It's best if we talk without anything blocking us, Mr. Santine. Can we come in?"

"I... guess." He closed the door again, unbolted some locks before pulling it open, revealing the den of the runaway lad.

Agent Rose's reaction was the first thing that registered on Cara's mind. Her shock wasn't determined by anything other than her eyes. From all the stuff they had seen on the way here, it was probably the most remarkable, the only one that would replay in her mind simultaneously after.

She cleared her throat, regrouping easily from the shock. She looked over to Cara. "Be the guest, Detective."

Nodding, Cara mounted to the stairs. She focused on her steps, forcing the overwhelming images of Santine's living room and shadow she had seen to the farthest corner of her mind.

She looked up, and went inside.