City of the Sun

THIRTY

Strength or weakness, Paul didn ’ t know which it had been. He ’ d granted his mortal enemy, the source of all pain in his life, a moment ’ s comfort in death. He ’ d sent the man to eternity with a symbol of God. He hadn ’ t done it for Riggi, that much he did know, but for himself. He was filled with regret for the action, even as he knew it was what he had to do. He was not a religious man in the conventional sense. He ’ d left the observance of his Episcopalian upbringing long ago. But he believed in God. He had a real faith that the power existed. And he knew in that moment that in order for God to grant him any relief in the search for an answer regarding his son, he must be worthy of it.

They ’ d gone to a Chili ’ s after the police had finished with them and silently ate Southwestern Ranch burgers without tasting them. He ’ d told lies to the police when they ’ d asked him questions and he ’ d lied by omission as well. Despite the jeopardy, it was easier than he thought it ’ d be. It was like anything else, he supposed: simple once one had moved past caring about the outcome. They finished and paid and were set to go when he realized they hadn ’ t talked about what was next.

“The department ’ s gonna come down on this and all the related cases with both boots, just so you know,” Behr said, draining his Arnie Palmer.

“What ’ ll be the time frame on that?” Paul wondered as they rose.

“Days. Weeks. It ’ s a question of them catching up,” Behr told him.

“I ’ ll drive,” Behr said as they walked outside into a day the color of a battered tin pan and crossed the parking lot. It was a strange, unnecessary statement as they ’ d been in Behr ’ s car all day and he had the keys.

Paul thought about home and Carol and how much he ’ d tell her. “I ’ m not waiting for the police. I ’ m going,” he said aloud. “To Ciudad del Sol. To find out what happened to him.”

“I know,” Behr said. “I just told you: I ’ ll drive.”

Behr bought flowers and was waiting in front of her building when she got home from work. She drove up in a Miata, parked, and climbed out, slinging a leather bag across her shoulder. She hadn ’ t expected him, that was clear, but it wasn ’ t just surprise that spread across her face with her smile.

“He returns,” she said, stopping for a moment, then walking toward him.

“It ’ s me,” he said back. “How are you, Susan?” She had looked beautiful all made up on their date. Today she was wearing her work clothes — a jacket over a blouse — and her makeup was lighter or had worn off, the slight lines by her eyes more visible. But he saw her more clearly without the layer, and with her hair pulled back as it was. She was beautiful.

He ’ d felt idiotic sitting there, the bouquet filling his car with a wet earthy smell. All the hesitation left him when she smiled.

“Pretty,” she said, accepting the flowers.

“They were closing and were out of roses.”

“Would you stop?” she said, her eyes flickering up over the tops of the flowers as she smelled them.

“So…” he said.

“So, what ’ s up?”

“I ’ m going away for a while.”

“You are?” It seemed to sadden her a bit. “That case?”

“Right.” He felt his heart beating hard under his shirt.

“Where to? If it ’ s not confidential.”

It wasn ’ t, but he didn ’ t want to get into the details. He didn ’ t want to bring that part of his life to her.

“A bad place.”

“Uh-uh,” she said.

“No?” he asked.

“I ’ m the in or out type, Frank, and I called you after the other night ’ cause I ’ m in. Which are you?”

“I ’ m going to the border, to Mexico,” he said, and moved toward her. “I ’ m in.” She reached her hand behind his head and pulled him to her, and they kissed.

The night had been almost unreal, and now it was nearly over. Blue light glowed around the edges of the shades and told them it was time. She didn ’ t lie next to him as usual, but instead across him, like in the old days, her head on his chest, her hair spread over his torso. Paul ’ s heart beat steady and implacable beneath her ear. It was a sound she hadn ’ t heard in so long. Neither of them was asleep but in a waking state that was nearly indistinguishable. They ’ d talked half the night, until Paul had talked himself out, relating all the facts of the case. She wondered if she knew everything now. She felt she did — all that mattered, anyway. He ’ d told her what he ’ d learned. Horrible things. They ’ d begun the conversation standing in the kitchen, then moved to the bedroom. Then they ’ d sat on the edge of the bed. She ’ d found herself moving closer and closer to him as the hours progressed. Her husband was brave and unrelenting, she saw it now, and didn ’ t understand how she ’ d missed it for so long. At a point in his story their hands found each other in gestures of comfort. When he told her where he was going, she grasped him in fear.

The hour had grown late when she felt it: The current that had been dead between them for as long as she could remember, half of which she considered extinct within her, switched on once again. She reached for him just as he leaned toward her. She met his kiss and felt herself fall into his open mouth. He was tentative at first, touching her as if she were a fragile thing, as if she were made of mist and he might fall through her. But she responded and the touches grew. The room was dark. They shed their clothes. They pressed their bodies against each other in need and relief and love. He moved on top of her and she was solid beneath him, substantial. His smell and the weight of him on her were familiar and intoxicating. Tears of bittersweet joy rolled from the corners of her eyes. For a moment Jamie was gone completely. Not in the agonizing way that he had been for all these months, but in the way he used to be even when he was safe in his room and they went to the special world that husbands and wives occupy for precious moments. They talked in tongues, garbled sounds of passion flying from their mouths.

“Carol,” he said into the darkness.

“Yes?” she answered.

“You ’ re right, we should do a burial for him: a headstone, a memorial service. I can wait until after that to go.”

She squeezed his hand. “When you get back,” she said.

It wasn ’ t all he wanted to say.

“It ’ s no death wish. I ’ m afraid I ’ ll get hurt, that I won ’ t come back. But I ’ m more afraid of not going.”

She found his strength contagious and she remained infected with it now. “First go and find out what happened to our son, or someone else ’ s. Then come home to me,” she said.

She felt him smile. Her hand slipped into his in the coming dawn. Their hands began a familiar, playful wrestle that was their lost ritual in moments of intimacy. Their thumbs danced together, brushing softly, speaking silently their love.

Behr sat outside in his idling car. He saw a few lights on inside the house piercing the morning semidarkness. He wondered why he was even there, when driving on alone and leaving Paul behind was the smart move. It was out of allegiance, he realized. And then there was the fact that Paul would show up on his own if Behr left him behind. He considered honking the horn despite the hour. All the times he ’ d picked up his employer in the past he ’ d never needed to do that, for Paul would be waiting for him outside or would come out within an instant of his arrival. And of all those times he ’ d only seen Carol pass by a window once or twice. She was either out most of the time or moving about the depths of the house like a spirit.

Today, though, the screen door swung open and she appeared, in the flesh, wearing sweat pants and a faded sweatshirt, her hair pulled back in a ponytail. Her face was fresh and clean of makeup. She looked both young and ravaged at the same time, and the combination was a beautiful one. He lowered the window as she approached. He half expected to hear that Paul wouldn ’ t be going, that the trip seemed too dangerous, and that he shouldn ’ t come around anymore.

“Come in,” she said, “I ’ m going to cook you two a hot breakfast before you go.”