The Narrows

CHAPTER 29

I put the thick file aside and studied my daughter's face. I wondered what she could be dreaming about. She had experienced so little in her life, what inspired her dreams? I was sure there were only good things waiting for her in that secret world and I wished it would always stay that way.

I grew tired myself and soon closed my eyes to rest for a few minutes. And soon I, too, dreamed. But in my dream there were shadow figures and angry voices, there were sudden and sharp movements in the darkness. I didn't know where I was or where I was going. And then I was grabbed by unseen hands and pulled up out of it, back to the light.

"Harry, what are you doing?"

I opened my eyes and Eleanor was pulling the collar of my jacket.

"Hey… Eleanor… what is it?"

For some reason I tried to smile at her but I was still too disoriented to know why. "What are you doing? Look at this all over the floor."

I was beginning to register that she was angry. I pulled myself forward and looked over the edge of the bed. The Poet file had slid off the bed and spilled on the floor. The crime scene photos were spread everywhere. Prominently displayed were three photos of a Denver Police detective who had been shot by Backus in a car. The back of bis head was obliterated, blood and brain matter all over the seat. There were other photos of bodies floating in canals, photos of another detective whose head was taken off with a shotgun.

"Oh, shit!"

"You can't do this!" Eleanor said loudly. "What if she woke up and saw this? She'd have nightmares the rest of her life."

"She's going to wake up if you don't keep your voice down, Eleanor. I'm sorry, okay? I didn't mean to fall asleep."

I slid off the bed and knelt on the floor, quickly gathering the file together. As I did so I checked my watch and saw it was almost five a.m. I had slept for hours. No wonder I was so groggy.

Seeing the time also told me that Eleanor was home late. She usually didn't play this long. It probably meant she'd had a bad night and had tried to chase her losses, a bad gambling strategy. I quickly gathered the photos and reports and slid them back into the file, then I stood up.

"Sorry," I said again.

"Goddamnit, it's not what I need to come home and find."

I didn't say anything. I knew it was a no-win situation for me. I turned and looked back at the bed. Maddie was still sleeping, with her brown ringlets across her face again. If she could sleep through anything, then I hoped she could sleep right through the roaring silence of her parents' anger toward each other.

Eleanor walked quickly out of the room and in a few moments I followed her. I found her in the kitchen leaning against a counter with her arms folded tightly in front of her.

"Bad night?"

"Don't blame my reaction to this on what kind of night I had."

I raised my hands in surrender.

"I'm not. I blame it on me. I messed up. I just wanted to sit with her for a little while and I fell asleep."

"Maybe you shouldn't do that anymore."

"What, come visit her at night?"

"I don't know."

She moved to the refrigerator and took out a bottle of spring water. She poured a glass and then held the bottle up for me. I told her I didn't want any.

"What is that file anyway?" she asked. "Are you working a case here?"

"Yes. A murder. It started in L.A. and came over this way. I have to go up into the desert today."

"What a nice convenience for you. Along the way you get to drop in here and scare your daughter."

"Come on, Eleanor, it was stupid and I'm an idiot but at least she didn't see anything."

"She could have. Maybe she did. Maybe she woke up and saw those dreadful pictures and then went back to sleep. She's probably having a horrible nightmare."

"Look, she hasn't moved all night. I can tell. She's been down for the count. It won't happen again, so can we just leave it at that?"

"Sure. Fine."

"Look, Eleanor, why don't you tell me about your night?"

"No, I don't want to talk about it. I just want to go to bed."

"I'll tell you something then."

"What?"

I hadn't planned on bringing this up but it all sort of snowballed and I knew I needed to tell her.

"I'm thinking about going back to my job."

"What do you mean, the case?"

"No, the cops. The LAPD has a program. Old guys like me can come back in. They're looking for experience. If I do it now I won't even have to go back to the academy."

She took a long drink of water and didn't respond.

"What do you think about that, Eleanor?"

She shrugged like she didn't care.

"Whatever you want to do, Harry. But you won't see your daughter as much. You'll get involved in cases and… you know how that goes."

I nodded.

"Maybe."

"And maybe it won't matter. She hasn't had you around for most of her life."

"And whose fault is that?"

"Look, let's not open that can of worms again."

"If I had known about her I would have been here. I didn't know."

"I know, I know. I'm the one. It's all my fault." "I'm not saying that. I'm-"

"I know what you're saying. You don't even have to say it."

We were both quiet for a moment, letting the anger ebb. I looked down at the floor.

"Maybe she could come over there, too," I said.

"What are you talking about?"

"What we talked about before. About this place. About her growing up here."

She shook her head very deliberately.

"And I haven't changed my mind about that. What do you think, that you're going to raise her by yourself? You, with middle-of-the-night call outs, long hours, long investigations, guns in the house, crime scene photos spread all over the floor. Is that what you want for her? You think that's better than Vegas?"

"No. I was thinking maybe you could come over there, too."

"Forget it, Harry. I'm not talking about this again. I'm staying here and so is Madeline. You make whatever decision is best for you but you don't make it for me and Maddie."

Before I could respond Marisol stepped into the kitchen, her eyes creased with sleep. She was wearing a white bathrobe with Bellagio written in script on the pocket.

"Very loud," she said.

"You're right, Marisol," Eleanor said. "I'm sorry."

Marisol went to the refrigerator and got out the water bottle. She poured herself a glass and then put the bottle away. She left the kitchen without further word. "I think you should go," Eleanor said to me. "I'm too tired to talk about this right now."

"All right. I'm just going to check on her and say good-bye."

"Don't wake her up."

"No kidding."

I went back into my daughter's bedroom. We had left the light on. I sat on the side of the bed closest to her and just watched her sleep for a few moments. Then I brushed back her hair and kissed her cheek. I smelled the scent of baby shampoo in her hair. I kissed her again and whispered good night. I turned off the light and then sat there for another couple minutes, watching and waiting. For what, I don't know. I guess maybe I was hoping Eleanor would come in and sit on the bed, too, that maybe we could watch our sleeping daughter together.

After a while I got up and turned the monitor on again. I left the room to head out. The house was quiet as I walked back through to the front. I didn't see Eleanor. She had gone off to bed, not needing to see me again. I pulled the front door closed and made sure it was locked as I went out.

The loud snap of steel on steel had a finality to it that ricocheted through me like a tumbling bullet.