Gone After the Wind

Chapter 17: Ghost

NIGHTFALL HAD already fallen when Cara entered the large neighborhood of Panville Village, an average type of subdivision located near the suburbs of Rosegold. Tiny houses on each street had already succumbed to the somber state of the night. Only a number of people were still hanging around their backyards and half-closed garages. Majority was already cocooned inside their cozy home, preparing to end the day with another yet plain night. Seeing those as Cara drove made her extraordinarily agitated and on edge, as it blatantly showed how late she had been in their agreement and how she had just ruined Alex's night for the second time.

All of this was on her account; she won't deny that. She couldn't blame the time for its peculiarly swift pace. Her cravings to plant a pleasant impression on the first day of her work after being hovered away for months were the entire root of this dilemma. It could have been repressed. But sheer excitement dominated that control.

Alex probably wished she hadn't been the one who conceived him. His hatred leveled up, most likely. And it wouldn't be impossible if she received an all-out rage once they met. She'd understand. She may very well deserve the treatment. On the contrary, she hoped her explanation wouldn't fall on deaf ears, and the door for forgiveness won't stay shut.

Searching for the house of Alex's classmate didn't become a struggle as it was the only blue house on the third street she took. Her chest tightened with fear when she spotted three figures occupying its porch, one of whom was Alex. He was sitting upright on the wooden bench with Finley, crestfallen and not paying attention to his surroundings. Standing beside them, alert and anticipating, was Finley's mother. When she saw Cara's car pulling over to the sidewalk, she immediately touched Alex's shoulder to alert him. His head jerked up and bolted across the lawn without a proper goodbye.

Cara swallowed hard, watching him anxiously. Just as she climbed out of the car, Alex slid inside the passenger seat. The lack of street light on the sidewalk didn't hinder Cara from seeing Alex's face. Her heart dropped when she saw his eyes, watery and bloodshot.

"I'm glad you arrived safely," said Finley's mother as she approached them, hugging her thin arms. "We've been trying to call you for the last hours. I thought you'd never make it. I was already planning to offer Alex to stay over."

Cara forced a smile, her eyes couldn't leave Alex. "My mistake. My phone was silent the whole time I was working. I'm sorry for the bother."

"No, it's okay. I'm actually glad you let Alex stay with us. Finley's very fond of him. It's great to see them acquainted. Besides, they both enjoyed it so..." Finley's mother smiled. Her face contorted slightly. "You might... uh, want to console him after this. He's a bit upset about the way you didn't answer his text. I've been trying to light up his mood, but he wasn't reacting."

Cara's eyebrows furrowed as she felt a flick of annoyance across her chest. She looked at the woman, preparing to launch an impertinent reply. What do you know about us? she thought. But the energy to actually do it was missing. Instead of biting back, she only nodded.

"We'll be going now." Not bothering to ask for her name nor utter further pleasantries, Cara went inside the car and didn't wait for her reply. Glancing at Alex, she peeled off the curb and drove off.

From that neighborhood up to the long way home, Cara didn't initiate any type of conversation. The deafening silence ruled them over. No one dared to end it even though the current situation required them to do so. God knows how Cara wished to apologize and start the consoling segment. But the right timing and opportunity were hard to find. Alex's steely silence didn't help her either. If he was impassive yesterday, tonight was the worst case.

Withdrawing a deep sigh, she shifted the gears, and the car turned to enter the neighborhood they lived in. Night had progressed faster during their trip. The sky was pitch-black now, decorated only by blinking stars, and the temperature had dropped, making the air chilly than unusual. Cara was forced to close the windows abruptly. She glanced at Alex, wondering whether he was cold or not. She opened her mouth to ask, but the fear of being ignored reigned, and she shut it right away.

They reached their house, and the situation hadn't changed. Cara couldn't hold it out any longer, and so as she parked on their driveway, she finally addressed the issue.

"I'm sorry if I made you wait that long," Cara said. "I took care of some things, sweetie, and I didn't notice the time—"

"You have no job to take care of, Mom. Admit it. You didn't care about what I was doing that's why you forgot about it," Alex snapped.

"Yes, it might have slipped my mind, but not because I didn't view it as important—"

"Whatever," Alex cut her off. He unbuckled his seatbelt, and as fast as Cara's negative thoughts registered on her mind, he left.

"s**t," Cara whispered, hastily removing the belt on her seat, and got out. "Alex!" she called, but the boy was halfway down their lawn, walking at a speed that determines how much he hated to indulge in the discussion.

She didn't bother to remove her shoes when she reached the foyer, and the immaculate floor beamed at her. She tailed behind Alex, but the damn kid took advantage of his long legs. He ascended to the stairs in just a matter of minutes. He disappeared into his room, slamming the door shut behind him.

From the kitchen, Nana Ryla popped out, wearing a bright blue apron. She was carrying a spatula. She looked curiously at Cara, concerned at the sudden noise. "Is there something wrong, Ma'am Cara?"

Cara smiled weakly. "Everything's fine, Nana. You can continue your cooking. We'd be down just a minute."

With double steps and chest tightening in every second, she followed Alex upstairs. She could feel her energy draining just the thought of verbalizing what she had done for today that led to this yet another neglected act. She knew apologizing was the requirement for a successful reconciliation. And nothing was above her priority tonight other than washing away Alex's anger.

But as she stood there, watching the door of his room, she couldn't muster up the courage to knock. The steps are only superficial. Be humble, reveal why the promise had broken, and apologize in the end. She could promise that it won't happen again, but with the matters she was currently involved with, that would seem impossible to achieve. She erased that option on her mind, shifting her focus on what she could do to change his perspective alone.

I should just tell my version of a story, then.

She heaved a deep sigh, finding it more and more challenging to approach the issue as she further the delay. Before she could have second thoughts and walk back to her bedroom instead, she raised her arm and tapped the door for two consecutive heavy knocks.

"Open the door, Alex," she pleaded. "We're not done talking. We can't let this night pass without discussing it."

"Go away," Alex responded. "I have nothing to say. You've made it quite clear tonight, Mom."

"About what?" Cara held the door knob and twisted it. Locked. She found it more heartbreaking than surprising. "Look, I know I've made a mistake, and I regret it badly, sweetie. But please understand that I did not mean it. Things just... got out of hand, you know, and I didn't expect the consequences would be that heavy. I was out in the field all day, investigating a case—"

"Investigating?" Alex echoed. His voice sounded louder and more precise than earlier. It was followed by muffled thuds created by his footsteps. "They took you back? And you didn't even tell me?"

Cara shut her eyes tightly. "Yes. They gave me a second chance to—"

"And you accepted it?" There was disbelief in his voice.

Cara flinched. "I had no choice—"

"Yeah, right. Why would I even bother to ask? Of course, you'd accept it. It's your job. I never win against it," he said sarcastically. "I never should have hoped you'd change. How could I compete with something you love so much, Mom? It's always about your career. Hadn't our situation been that way ever since? Even before Dad died, you always chose your job over us. We're always on the compromised side."

"That's not true." Her voice trembled.

"For you, it's not. Because you're blind, Mom. You can't come to terms with it because you never feed yourself the truth, just your own idea of things, and that's what's making this all wrong, Mom."

She felt an urge to shut him up and correct what he had said. Sure he nailed some truth that couldn't be brought up for debate anymore. She was a selfish b***h back then. All that had mattered was her job. In fact, there was no competition between them because her career had always been declared as a winner.

That was the case two months ago. But now, it changed. She had developed a character growth that she never saw coming. Her unsuspected downfall altered all the principles and beliefs she had for more than ten years. The pain she suffered had paved the way for her eyes to wake up from that terrifying delusion.

She had changed. It's not the same routine anymore. She cared now. A lot than she could.

How am I supposed to make him realize that, when my image as his mother was already manufactured by my past mistakes?

Shoveling her lungs with air, she said, "I've said it before, and I will repeat it. Criminals don't—"

"—rest, and it's your job to take them down," Alex continued what she was about to say. "Everybody knows that, and I've heard more than twice. And it makes me feel jealous because you rather spend your whole day chasing them than do the favor of fetching your son. Is it really that hard for you to choose what's important, Mom?"

There was a deep silence as Cara chewed on that. Her heart felt punctured. It was aching worse than before. His words stung, and she wasn't sure if she'd ever get over with it.

"I've said everything I want. Now, leave and stop bugging me," Alex said.

Cara chokes back a sob. "Can't we settle this more peacefully, sweetie? Why don't you open the door and let's talk, face to face."

"No, I don't wanna see you. Can you please just respect that and get out of my head for a while, Mom?" Alex sounded pleading, and it had taken her for a while to understand why his voice was pitched thinner and lower than before. Cara thought she was imagining it, but her ears had certainly picked a sound of a sob coming from his room.

Panicking, she clutched the doorknob again and rattled it, her vision blurring with tears filling up her socket. To hear him crying because of her decision hurt more than the truth he spilled earlier. It was an insult. A disgrace because she had not predicted that it would affect him at such a degree.

"Sweetie, it's not true that I love this job more than I do for you," she said weakly. "I was stupid for not letting you know that I will be back in action again. It was wrong. So terribly wrong. I should have considered your opinion first before making the decision. I'm sorry, okay? I have been inconsiderate and insensitive. Yet again. But sweetie, please know that I didn't agree to have my badge back for the sake of fame or anything. I took the risk because I want to find the justice for your Dad. He died unrightfully behind our backs. And it's only justifiable to correct that. No one is in the right position to do this except me."

"But you just made it worse," he replied. His breathing hitched, and a sob fully echoed in his room. "Why can't you just accept it? He's dead. You can't bring him back. It's all done. Stop trying and just focus on what you have now."

Cara's jaw dropped, her heart almost stopped right after she heard the exact same words her mother said in the nightmare she encountered a day ago. She shivered, unable to treat it as mere coincidence. There must have been a reason why she was told the same thing for two consecutive times. The first one may not be a living soul, but it still strengthened the impact it brought. Was she aware of that from the very start? Because it was too much to accept, is it possible that her mind played a trick on her, and used her mother's image just to send the message?

She wouldn't want rather to know the answer to that little mystery.

"He may be gone, but the chance to know the truth isn't gone. It's my responsibility to figure out what happened. Once it's done, everything will go back to normal. Then we could be the same again. Don't you want that?"

Silence fell, and her fears heightened that it wasn't well-received.

Then after a minute, he spoke.

"Not everything will go back the same."

Cara was stunned to speak. That one sentence just deliberately concluded their discussion within a blink. She hasn't even reached her limit yet, and now the chance has run out. There were so many things going on inside her head, a group of words that could have provided a much better ending to their sheer drama. But the odds weren't in favor of her tonight. As much as convicted and eager she was to prove he was wrong, it wasn't just possible anymore. And that may be disheartening and frustrating to embrace, she has no other choice but to surrender and slowly, humbly leave his room in peace.

With all the draining events she was forced to handle all day, Cara figured she needed a warm bath. She went back to her room after the encounter with Alex, and plunged into the bathroom with all the remaining energy she had.

She did not bother to add some decorations to her bath like she usually does. Just one swoop of liquid soap and everything was set. She submerged her whole body slowly under the water, closing her eyes as the warmth enveloped her body. It tranquilized her nerves. Fiber by fiber. And the exhaustion she had acquired while in the field all day dispensed with the steam her body was emanating.

Unfortunately, it didn't block her thoughts from overflowing. It furiously attacked her, now that she was alone and under the somber silence. She recalled her exchange with Alex, and realized that she had been indeed not mindful of her actions. What damage would it cause if she had told her she was going back? Why did she even keep that to him?

I don't want him to worry about anything except on his studies, she thought, but deep inside, she felt there were more other reasons she couldn't acknowledge for now.

After fifteen minutes of being soaked in the tub, she decided to get dressed. Just a baggy t-shirt and pajama, and she went back downstairs. She found Nana Ryla preparing the table when she slipped into the kitchen. As always, the food she cooked looked so mouth-watering and addicting. Its aroma tickled her nose as she sat down, and as a response to its delightful appearance, her stomach grumbled, ultimately begging to have a taste on what was on the table.

But the small bubble of pleasure popped when Nana Ryla expressed her concern about Alex—of him requesting the food to be delivered to his room rather than joining them. Curious of the gesture, Nana Ryla asked why that was the case. Cara couldn't bring herself to answer that truthfully, both because of guilt and feeling there's no need to. In the end, she chose a neutral response.

It felt empty to eat without him. Cara would glance to his usual seat every bite she took and would argue with herself whether she should snatch the wish away from Nana Ryla and do it instead. She shook her head fervently at the thought, exterminating it in her mind before she outdid that part of her.

When they were done, she headed out to the living room since the idea of crashing into her bed seemed a bit unfit for her body and mind tonight. Carrying the small paperwork she attained in the station, she sat on the couch and splayed it out on the oval-shaped coffee table. The reports weren't plenty and abundant like she wanted them to, given that they hadn't made big progress on the first victim—Nelia Rasco, and the investigation on Sandy Hupman hasn't yet accelerated into concrete leads worthy of the effort.

Needless to say, there was nothing much to peruse tonight in the files. The Redvine PD was still conducting a series of interviews in the area where Sandy Hupman lived, and it might take a while before they could pass the narrative on to the state police. Until then, it would be unwise to draw an initial assumption on the case. A bunch of areas still need to be covered before she could finalize the idea of the murders in her head.

Still, looking into it now might produce something of a clue. Sipping on her black coffee, she picked the autopsy report and, with keen interest, began reading it. She was in the middle paragraph, absorbing each word to the best of her capacity, when somewhere outside the front porch, something dropped on the wooden floor, creating a loud thud that blasted Cara's senses into sudden alertness.

Her head perked, looking straight into the dark foyer. A trace of light from the front door dotted the wall on the left. She sat upright, listening to the silence that had become more defined and deafening as she waited. The wind blew from outside, disturbing the windchime above the front door. It clanked faintly in the silence. Few seconds of watching, and nothing weird happened.

Thinking it was just a squirrel, she brushed it off and resumed her reading. She reached for the mug and was about to have a taste when a loud thud erupted from outside again. Much louder than last time. Her heart hammered against her chest as the shock of it rattled her body as though a bomb had blown off somewhere within earshot. Because it caught her off-guard, she spilled some coffee on her thigh.

"s**t," she muttered, looking down angrily at her lap. Furious by the interruption and the stained pajama, she stood up and marched towards the door.

She shook her pajama, trying to whisk away the spilled coffee as she walked. When she faced the door, her steps slacked, and she found herself utterly confused. She stared at the small opening between the frame and the door. As far as she could recollect, she had closed it after they arrived early. Firmly and secured. She may have been dragged along with the vehemence of their argument, but her reflexes wouldn't betray her. She had closed it. She knew she did.

Even if she had forgotten it, Nana Ryla would be double-checking it. It was one of the regulations in this house that, no matter what occurred, should never be forsaken.

Swallowing hard, she advanced, her steps lighter and more cautious. She could feel her body switching to detective mode. Along the way to the door, she seized the baseball bat placed near the wall and raised it in a defensive stance. Her stomach ran cold as she clutched the door knob. Her heart continued to ram her chest. All the possible scenarios she could come up with had played inside her head like a broken CD.

She heaved a deep sigh before finally pushing the door open, the bat was in the air, ready to strike someone. Her breathing slowed down when nothing odd surprised her. She stepped out, observing the premises with sharp eyes. But the somber neighborhood was only in sight. The vacant street and the nearby houses with no one around the lawn didn't offer any suspicious figure. Just the emptiness that made the night more solemn.

Her arm lowered until the tip of the bat reached the wooden floor. She searched the porch for the source of the thump she heard. But nothing heavy seemingly dropped there. She searched and searched, looking at every corner and even flipping the chairs over. Nothing.

She wanted to settle on the thought that it was squirrels that happened to pass by. But as she stared at their lawn, and under the numbing silence, she couldn't get over to the alarming sensation she felt earlier. She waited for minutes before she slowly relaxed. Heaving a deep sigh, she wheeled and went inside again, dragging the bat along. Maybe I was just overreacting, she thought, ensuring if the locks were intact well. With one final glance, she turned her back to it. Hoping and wishing that it was indeed nothing.