When Luke woke up in his familiar bed, Sharon was not there! He slid his hand where it was once draped over her hips. A familiar void filled the space, like the years they lived together as ghosts. There were times when they acted like they could walk through each other. Times when they talked past each other in third person. Luke thought to himself, as he rubbed his eyes and looked around the bedroom, "She's as good as talking to a headstone."

Luke sprang from bed and listened. His heart leaped with him. The sheets all crumpled, evidence of her lavender fragrance, signs of her recent departure. But it was the smell of her skin after a shower that caught his attention when he stepped inside the stall of their bathroom. He breathed her in, as if she left ghostly evidence of her recent departure.

Luke flipped one of the shades from the bedroom and saw nothing but a backyard, his manicured lawn and the thick trees, once infantile as shrubs when they bought the house newly constructed. Then he realized he needed to check the front, listened for the sounds of her footsteps, the pitter patter of their bulldog. Nothing, nothing but the sounds of an abandoned silence.

Had Sharon left the house? He opened the bedroom door. "Share! You out there?" For Luke it was like calling into a maze of possibilities, more walls, more distance. He almost cried. She couldn't have accepted his ninth inning try to fix things. Just like a man, he wanted to promise he could be a heroic husband. She took his sneaky behavior as a threat, plain and simple. She'd taken his touch as something acidic, soiled. And she could not be penetrated with words, with touch, with second chances. He breathed a painful sigh. "it's really over," He said to the hollow hall.

He walked down the hallway. "Bugsy!" He called for the pet bulldog. No sounds, but when his bare feet slapped the wood floor. On his way to the kitchen, he stuck his head in the family room. Light streamed in from the half-opened curtains. The air conditioner blew over him, cooling his head, massaging his eyes. He walked over and looked through the glass beside the front door, figuring the driveway would be full of police, most of whom he knew on a first name basis. He opened the door to the garage between the front door and the kitchen. The car was gone, she was gone, and his dog was gone. But he should have known that she'd left years ago, and it was just her body catching up with her spirit.

Luke turned back and looked outside, wondering what it would feel like to be shouted down, have the door busted to get to him, make him lay down, while the police cuff him from behind. There could nothing more humiliating than a cop getting busted in his own neighborhood, because he's seen as some abusive jerk. Why, did she think he would harm her? Then he smirked, talked inside of himself. It least she didn't shoot him. He knew she had a gun in the nightstand. He'd made sure she could protect herself. Maybe the fact that she didn't shoot him counted for something.

The silence was too much. It only magnified the goofy wooden clock on the wall, and how the woodpecker looked bored with nothing to peck holes into. When he looked up and back toward the kitchen, he spied a note. It made his heart jump. She left under a crystal paper weight, a gift he once bought her when they had visited the diamond mine with Taylor. He read the note:

I'm sorry, but I needed to leave. I didn't call the police because I realized you promised one night. But I need you to leave, I need us to move on. I need you to move on. There's nothing left, nothing to bridge the divide. Please, please, let me go...

Luke hated himself more, that she'd been reduced into fleeing the house and begging for her space. He crumpled the paper until he realized there was room at the bottom to leave his own note. Like a light in the dank, deserted cellar of his mind, it filled the gloom, the heavy air in his head. It made something want to surface, a way to salvage something. He had this leave of absence, plenty of time to brood. He found the pen on the white marble counter.

"Dear Share: I love you, and will always love you, but I've abandoned this family. I know it's all my fault. I promise to leave you be from now on. But he wasn't sure he could. He breathed a sigh. But he'd damn well try.

Luke rummaged around in the bedroom and found his old sweats and a t-shirt, he showered, then he left out the front door with a duffle bag full of clothes and some of his toiletries. Maybe it was the smell of fresh cut grass or the fact that kids were playing street hockey in the yard a few doors down. But it all came rushing back, like a turn style door that sucks in the air and leaves you're mind in a vortex for a moment where the world waits for you. His mind raced back.

Taylor was only seven, long legs like her mother, brown hair, blue eyes, she loved to play sports. Daddy's little girl. He called her Tay for short. Most of all Taylor loved soccer. Luke kicked the ball around with her that Saturday morning. Mom was in the kitchen looking out the front door, smiling back, Taylor liked to help Mom, she'd make cookies with her.

But the ball got away, it skittered down the slope of the front yard, skinned along on the street, a thoughtless moment when something distracted Luke, he looked toward someone shouting in the neighbor's yard where there was a pool party. It all took a second.

Taylor chased the ball between parked cars across the street. Luke watched her grab the ball hold in her hand like a goalie might. She looked at him smiled, a dimpled look. Ponytail swayed.

Hodges, his neighbor was heading down the street, faster than the posted thirty, his sports car low on the road, wheels spinning toward his house at the end of the cul-de-sac.

Luke shouted. "Hey!" As Taylor darted back between the parked cars. Taylor got caught in the front bumper and thrown several feet forward when the car stopped to a screeching halt.



Lights flashing, siren blaring, Luke made it to the hospital in four minutes although it was twenty-four miles away. He took the child and carried her to the waiting nurses and surgeon at the door, handed her off into a gurney. Twenty-minutes later, she was pronounced dead. Her life was gone at seven. And with-it with it, Luke and the rest of his family died a much slower death.

Luke snapped back and craned his head toward the sloping drive, the two-story home where Hodges daughter grew up, graduated from high school. She lived. He had gotten three-years of probation and eventually became a flag-waving member of AA. Hodges had a good a lawyer and no prior record. He got off easy. And he'd been smug about it. He'd acted, as if nothing, no accident had ever happened near the end of Horseshoe Lane. For him, his life returned to normal, and every day he drove by caused his family pain, internal skids burned to his memory.

Luke dropped his duffle bag full of clothes on the edge of the driveway. As he looked over toward Hodges washing a new red sports car, something inside him dug in his mind, created a channel for more reckless thoughts.

The neighbor hadn't turned to face him, he held his water hose like it was a part of him, an extension of himself. It trickled water out, with little force, as if he feared too much pressure on the new paint. The water ran down by his feet trickling into the drain on the edge of the curve. He was part of the circle. He looked zoned out, living in his own buffered world.

The more Luke watched Hodges and thought about it, the angrier he got. It wasn't like he hadn't fantasied doing things to him, going over there and killing him over the years. But what bothered him the most was how he had no problem continuing to live two doors down, as if killing his daughter was just a speed bump in the road of his life.

Hodges daughter grew up, she went to the prom, had her first date, first kiss, first everything, and all he and his wife got was a broken family. And here he was again, Hodges with his perfect little car and his little life, without fear of what an angrier father might do, a rogue cop maybe too. He needed to be taught a lesson. He needed to feel some of Luke's pain.

Luke walked over toward him, donning his thick sunglasses and making sure his gun was tucked far enough down the back of his sweatpants. Each step liberated him until he stood in the drive within feet of Hodges backside. "How's it going neighbor?"

Hodges spun around and wet himself with the hose before dropping it. Through his glasses, Luke noted how it streaked his vanilla pants like a pee flow. The man was looking older. His black hair thinned toward balding, his stomach looked like a pouch. "Oh hey, Luke, you home, I didn't know you were here."

"You know Hodges, I've always wondered how you lived with what happened. You seem to be doing okay for yourself."

"Well, you know taxes, and all keep going up. But I did lease this beauty. He recovered and reached for the hose where it flooded the driveway, but Luke beat Hodges to it. He held it up and put a kink in the line so the water wouldn't run. "Is there something I can help you with?" He asked, as he tried to collect the hose.

Luke held the hose and dared him to grab it. "You know just once; I'd like you to not be so comfortable with living here. What kind of man kills a kid more than eleven years ago and doesn't mind driving over the same spot everyday where she got plowed down?"

Hodges started backing away, he felt his pants pocket, likely for a cellphone or a pocketknife. His tanned belly jiggled like jelly. He looked up at the house, maybe he hoped his wife was watching. Luke pressed him. Made him do a rude moon walk into his opened garage where he fell into a flimsy yard chair that sagged from his rear.

Luke leaned into him, feeling the small of his back for his weapon. "Looks like your life got back on track, just like nothing ever happened at all."

Hodges protested, put his hands up, as if he might take a punch. "I suffered more than you know. I had to cash in on my 401K. My daughter went to college, and...and she's had issues. She's...she's bipolar."

"She grew up. She lived." Luke grabbed the arms of the chair until it tremored in place.

"Luke, what is it you want? I'm sorry, man. I...there was nothing I could do! she came out of nowhere. I swear, there was nothing I could do!"

Luke could smell the sweat of his fear. "I want you to feel my pain. Empathy is another form of therapy."

"What...I...I don't understand." Hodges raised his voice, as if trying to get his wife's attention through a window.

Luke pulled the handgun from his backside. "How bout we take your car down the road, I need to get my vehicle parked at the end of the street."

Hodges turned snow-white "I'm sorry. I'm not sure what else to do. Just put the gun away and we can talk." He kept his hands up. His eyes darted back forth, maybe hoping someone sees the crazy neighbor.

"No, said Luke. "I don't think so. If I don't point this at you will run like a scared rabbit."

Whatever self-control Luke had left, he'd lost when he pulled the gun from the back of his belt. He looked around to make sure no other neighbors watched him. His career, his home, what was left of his tattered family hung on the end of the barrel of his snub-nosed 45 pistol. Surely a gun control activist would have a field day over the rogue police officer. Nothing more dangerous than a bad man with a badge, he thought, and he smirked inside himself as he kept the gun leveled at Hodges.

"Luke, whatever...whatever you think, I swear, I swear man, there was nothing I could do! I swear, a million times over, if I could bring your daughter back, I would. I've lived with that guilt."

"You know," Luke said, as he circled his face with the gun while Hodges sweated in his flimsy chair. "I almost believe you, but somehow I think this gun tends to bring out the best and brightest in people."

Hodges dipped his head and kept his hands to his face. "Listen man, please, please I'm sorry."

"Okay, look, I'm leaving, anyway. Turns out I'm not wanted around here. You pretty much ruined my family, and now my career. And I just needed to know. You could have spared me this trouble, had you been that way in court. Anyway, like I said, I need a ride to my car parked down the street. I will be going on a long trip."

At first Hodges looked with one eye and his pleading face. "Okay, sure. You...you want me to give you a lift?" He looked on the verge of a heart attack.

"That's what I said." Luke waved the gun. "Now let's go. Get the lead out."

Hodges scooted from his chair in the garage. Luke followed close behind. Then he held the door open for him before he slipped into the passenger side.

Hodges turned over the engine, as it roared to life. Luke looked back and saw Hodges wife finally looking through their picture window. They stopped beneath Luke's driveway where Hodges was forced to get his duffle bag and put it in the back seat of the car. All the while the gun was between them, as they reached the place where Luke had parked his jeep the night before.

"I bet this car can do 0 to sixty in three seconds," Said Luke. "Now get out of the car and don't run. There's one more thing I need you to do for me Mr. Hodges. Get out of the car and lay down in front of it. You can leave the car in park with the engine idling."

Hodges complied, and by now, he was a lather of sweat. It dripped down his face like rain. Luke kept the gun trained on him while Hodges walked around to the front of the car and laid down in front of it. Then Luke revved the car. It startled him, as he jumped up and looked at Luke, as he rolled from the car.

"What's it like, Hodges, knowing you can be crushed like a bug? Feel my pain yet?"

Luke watched him reduced to tears, reduced to a slug on the road. And he'd be a liar if it didn't make him feel better. "Now I want you to lay down, close your eyes and say twenty-times, 'I'm sorry, and I don't deserve to live. Got that?"

Hodges looked ready to bolt.

"Now, repeat after me. "I'm sorry, and I don't deserve to live." Hodges repeated it with less enthusiasm.

Luke pulled out his duffle bag and put it in the trunk of his car. He used his remote starter, got inside, and revved his engine. Leaving, he watched Hodges in his review mirror scrape himself from the ground.

Slipping onto the freeway, Luke knew he'd likely never see his neighborhood again, least not in the same way. He laughed at himself over how he was bound to get arrested when it was Hodges who should have done the time. But it was liberating.

Clutching the wheel and gliding down the highway, he started singing his favorite song out of key, "Freedoms just another word for nothing left to lose." Then he found the old Kansas song on the radio and turned it up. "Carry on my wayward son. There will be peace enough when you are done...Don't you cry for me..."

Author Notes

For some people, they need to hit rock bottom hard in order to wake up to the light in their eyes.

Jousted about on the old logging road in his Jeep Wrangler, Luke eyed his rearview mirror. He refused to breathe a sigh, even though the forest was about to swallow him whole. The canopy of trees above blotted most of the sun and the rutted dead-end road had been nearly reclaimed by the forest floor.

Pulling up to an A-frame cabin, he expected the silence to be broken when he turned off the ignition. He listened for the sounds of sirens, maybe the whir of a helicopter, but there was nothing, nothing but the faint caws of hawks circling the edge of the pond from high above the trees.

The cabin was on a steep hill overlooking the nose of a lake. The deep green shingles had weathered into an olive color while the metal roof showed signs of rust around the edges. But it blended in with the forest. No one ever came into the dense Adirondack wilderness unless it was a lost poacher. It was easy to get lost without the lake to give you a landmark. Luke reckoned he fit right in with the scene, a lost fugitive, waiting for his world to end. He looked down at his cellphone which he had disabled, leaving out the batteries and the sims card.

As Luke opened the door to his jeep, he breathed in the fresh air and finally breathed a sigh. He then realized how only himself and his wife would know of this place. She held the key to giving away his location. The cabin was inherited by her parents. Her brother died in a car wreck years ago. Only her, himself, and their daughter Taylor used the place. if they authorities came to take him down, it would mean his wife cooperated with the police.

One thing was for sure, when Luke found the key with his fingers from above the screen door, his wife wasn't here, like he thought or hoped. Then again, why wouldn't she stay at a hotel with a sauna. She had the money and the time. She was never one to want to rough it. Most times she'd come out because Taylor begged her. She was a Daddy's girl all the way to the end.




When Luke pried open the door to the place, it held the stifling heat, baked air inside, as if yearning to escape. He opened the jarred windows in the loft where a fresh breeze swept through him. As he breathed the fresh air, a familiar scent of pines from the bluff lifted his nose. He plopped down on the dusty mattress, looked up at the swirling mites in the beams of sunlight. He closed his eyes, not wanting to wake up and face the world alone. He was bone-tired and before he knew it, sleep took him down like a heavy curtain.


At first Cole slept away the hours, days bleeding into nights. The evenings were summer cool in the mountains, from his mattress in the loft he could open his eyes and see the cold stars like ice trinkets. Lonely places miles away. Uninhabited. He laid there until he pretended he lived on one of them.

A few days later, he suspected no one looked for him. Since his wife would have been the only one who could give his location away, he wondered if her mercy from the other day extended to the cabin. He closed his eyes and tried to imagine her pleading with Hodges not to press charges-maybe. Knowing Hodges, he's probably made life uncomfortable for her next door.

As Luke rolled off the mattress, he caught a glimpse of himself in the milky mirror from an old dresser in the loft. His two-day beard and his mousy, matted hair, he looked more and more like a homeless person should. He stumbled down the stairs from the loft with hunger pains and a weird sense of guilt over his freedom.

He fired up the wood stove, looked up over the mantel of the fireplace where there was a picture of Taylor as a five-year old with her surviving grandparent, the patriarch, the one who left Bible messages for him to find all over the cabin when he was in his right mind, before dementia took his deep thoughts. Under the front door was a plaque that read, "As for me and my house, we will serve the Lord." Over the mantel of the fireplace was a plaque that read, Jeremiah 29:23 "Is not my Word like fire, and like a hammer that breaks a rock in pieces?"

Luke wished he could talk to his father in-law, maybe he'd talk some sense into his wife. He imagined him now sitting alone in a chair with a big picture window of the world in a room where he was lost too, but lost in his mind, unable to remember his own daughter, let alone the scriptures he placed in the cabin.

Luke realized then, after all the years on the state police force, he didn't have one close friend. It suddenly occurred to him that he'd buried himself in his work to the point where he didn't cultivate relationships. It made him wish his wife didn't take his dog, Bugsy, his best friend, his only friend. But in some weird way, he hoped it meant his wife wanted companionship and that it meant she'd be lonely without him.


Luke stumbled around in the starlight until he found a headlamp. He went outside on the ridge behind the cabin and fired up the generator. The lights blinked on. He used to tell Sharon how he liked the cabin, because it was private. He used to tell her the only things he could run into half human would be bigfoot.

Luke went inside to the mantel of the fireplace where the ponytailed picture of his daughter wearing her soccer uniform reminded him how she was stuck at seven. He decided to put his cellphone card back inside, including the batteries before he pulled it again. There was enough life left in his phone to check for messages. There were none. Nothing from his former wife or the police.

Luke managed to find an old can of beans and heated up a pan from a propane stove. He found some bottled water and drank it down in one gulp.

When Luke walked back outside, he watched the fireflies of July light up the sky. He heard the crackle of 4th of July fireworks over the whir of the generator. Life was down the canyon along the lake camps. He walked over to the bluff, shuffled his way down the wooden steps of the steep hill toward his dock. The smell of burning campfires rifled through his nose, reminding him that his solitary world was not so isolated.

With Luke's headlamp on, he drew mosquitos, swatting them as his feet tested the flimsy, weathered plankboards spanning the water. It was peaceful, the lapping water against the dingy was soothing. He didn't mind the fireworks either, or the sound of kids whooping it up in the distance. He sat on a log on the end of the dock where he could smell the fishy water and breath in the cool sweet air. Fireworks lit the sky, a rainbow of colors accenting the tree lines and the mountain ridges above the water reflecting the glow of colors.

Luke wanted to figure a way out of his mess, since he had nothing but time to think about how screwed up things got. The thought of serving time for a moment of indiscretion drove him to the brink. He couldn't imagine how as decorated police officer he could be incarcerated. Crazy. Maybe he should see the psych, and she'd confirm his temporary insanity as a defense. Still, no one looked for him.

For now, he was willing to be alone, and let his beard grow, let the forest grow around him, creating a mask of indifference, until some supernatural event helped him decide if life was worth living.

He climbed into the small boat. It shifted below his feet, sending him tumbling inside with an oar. He let the boat slip away with the rope inside. He swatted a mosquito buzzing in his ear. Slapped himself good. He drifted. Eyes closed. He allowed himself slide over the glassy water beneath the crackling fireworks over his head, to slip away from reality until it caught up to him.

Chapter 7
Letters and Lies

By forestport12

Sharon was the last person he expected to hear and see coming up the logging road just as the sun was getting in his eyes from the loft. Her silver Subaru made noise with all the dips and dives until the car rested near his Wrangler. He dug the sleep from his eyes and saw Bugsy his bulldog in the passenger seat!

Luke sprang from bed and pulled his pants on. His shirt smelled, so he threw it across the floor. He found his under arm deodorant and a stick of spearmint chewing gum. He looked at the dresser mirror for the first time in a week. His hair was a nest, his beard a bush. His heart rapt like a speed bag in his chest. What could she want?

He grabbed his heart, as if it would beat out of his chest.

Luke stumbled down the loft. The sun penetrated near the door, like a dramatic spotlight. Stardust lit the scene between him and the door.

He pulled the door open, and Sharon almost fell into him. Bugsy raced underneath and found his master.

It's been so long since they'd said anything of substance, they both stumbled toward each other, and neither could find words to fill the void. Bugsy helped to ease the tension where Luke dropped to the floor and allowed his dog to lick the sweat from his face and tame his beard.

Sharon stood with a box in her hand. She found the table in the kitchen area, since there were no doors on the floor it was easy to find it and set it down. She stood in the shadows. The sunlight unable to reach her. As Luke played with Bugsy, she turned and watched as if what she had to say was so heavy, it would put a hole in the floor

Luke spoke from his crouch. "Thanks for bringing Bugsy. I miss you both."

Sharon looked away, as if afraid to make eye contact. Then she turned to look at the mess in the kitchen. She put an apron on and started cleaning some dishes. You could hear the water pump turn on, as she sprayed and washed. Luke stalked closer. He was curious about the box. But he assumed it was just some food. He walked over and looked into the box. There were a few basic items, bread, canned goods. But there was a stack of letters too. He pulled the stack out and placed it on the table. "What's with these."

Sharon didn't have to turn around. "Please don't open those until I leave. I didn't come to stay. But when I leave it's important for you to read through them, exactly as I arranged them so you will know the story.

Luke was dumbfounded. "Story? What story. I don't understand. Does this have anything to do with the divorce?"

"No," She said. She stopped and craned her neck to look at him. Since she was closer to the window by the sink, he could see she had bags under her eyes. Obviously she hadn't been sleeping. She had on white shorts and sandals. He looked her up and down. He couldn't hide his sex starved eyes, since it had been months since they'd made love. He wanted her, but only if she still wanted him. As he stepped closer, he could see she'd been crying. He thought to himself, maybe she has a soul after all, maybe the dam of her emotions finally broke. She turned and continued wiping down plates. "I can make breakfast before I go."

Luke had to ask. He had to get it out of the way. "Are the police looking for me? Did Hodges press charges?"

Luke knew her without seeing her face in that moment, he could feel her smile. It was that thin smile when they both knew they had one up on someone. Nothing like having Luke's neighbor help them have a moment together. It was her way of breaking the cold draft between them. He wanted draw closer, wrap his arms around her like he used to. But he thought better of it. He was just thankful they could talk for now.

She stopped and explained. "I begged Hodges not to press charges. I told him you were gone for good. I suspect he went down to the station. Then I got a visit. They did ask me if I knew where you were..."

Luke couldn't help himself, placing his hands on her shoulders. She turned and looked at him with wet eyes. "I told them I didn't know. I never told them about my father's camp. The investigator knew you, like most everyone. He didn't seem all that anxious to find you. But I imagine you're in the system, should you get pulled over."

Luke felt the sting of tears in his eyes. "I've really screwed up your life. You don't want to move. Now I've made things harder for you. I meant that I wouldn't bother you after that other night."

Sharon fought her own tears. "I've done the worst thing to you. I'm the one who lives with the guilt of what I've done to you. It's...it's too late for us, but maybe not for you."

A cold chill ran through him. His heart fisted inside. "I don't get it. You're talking in riddles." He never once imagined she cheated on him, but he couldn't blame her if she did. He grabbed her arms and looked into the stormy sea of her eyes. "I deserve whatever you did."

"Not this," She said. It's not what you think. It's...it's not an affair.

Sharon placed her wet hands on his warm face. They locked into an embrace. Luke's body shivered inside to feel her warmth and the tears from her face. He kissed her deep, and she willingly accepted his advances as someone who could not hide the need for intimacy any longer. In that moment their differences dissolved, as their only daughter looked on from the mantel over the fireplace.

Luke took it to the next level. He swept Sharon off her feet where her sandals fell from her feet. He carried her up the stairs to the loft. Bugsy tried to insert himself in between until he gave up and looked on with curiosity in his mug face. Then he went to a respective corner.

They took turns ripping each other's cloths off, as if they noticed each other for the first time, as if it was their wedding night. They were like wounded animals, married, but trying to figure out how make love all over again, as the frozen ground of their relationship thawed where it risked a flood of emotions. Luke threw pillowcase over Bugsy who modestly retreated while his wife climbed on top of him where a ray of sun beamed over the two of them from the shade-less window.

***

After the lovemaking, Luke fell asleep. Then he awakened to the smell of bacon and eggs on a skillet. It drove him down the open stairs in the loft where he sat at the table in his shorts looking over the letters where he noticed the return address from someplace in Buffalo, NY... As he separated some of them like a deck of cards, he noticed they were all from the same address. The one difference was a handwritten note from his wife on top.

"Don't read them yet. I'm leaving soon." She'd gotten dressed, even had her sandals on. Sharon spun around with a plate.

Luke used his fingers for a comb and tried to untangle the knots of his hair. "You're not staying?"

"I can't...I can't be here when you read the letters." She almost tripped into the table but managed to give him his plate of food.

Luke reached out to her, but she backed away. "I've done something that I deserve to burn in hell for, something worse than cheating. I've cheated you out of a second chance for a family. I ruined what would have given you a fresh start."

Luke didn't know what to say. His mouth dropped. Eyes widened. He watched as she gathered her keys and purse, darting out the door. She left Bugsy behind. The family dog was eating leftovers from a cereal bowl.

Luke knew better. He didn't try to stop her. As he heard the wind up of the screen door and it slap back against the wood frame, it dawned on him that maybe their marriage really was over. But why all the mystery over a bunch of letters. He knew she'd suffered over the years, and they both had a hard time losing their only daughter. But nothing in the day made any sense, as he opened Sharon's envelop and read her letter first-like he promised he would do.

Dear Luke,

My grief over the loss of our daughter caused me to do something I should never have done. The letters are from high school sweetheart. She's been trying to contact with you over the last several months. She's even called the house a few times when you worked. After reading the letters you will know what needs to be done. I pray it's not too late. I don't expect to be forgiven.

Luke opened the first letter. A picture fell out on the table, a polaroid. It was a baby girl dressed in pink on her back in a crib, smiling at her big world. His heart was in his throat. Then he held his breath. The caption under the polaroid said, her name was Christine. But the last name in permanent ink said Cole.

Luke feared he was having a heart attack. He doubled over and fell to the floor. Bugsy, his dog came to the rescue and nestled his way underneath him. Luke looked up into the light streaming in. He finally remembered to breath.

Luke said the words out loud. "I have another daughter." He said it again. "I have another daughter."

Chapter 8
A Hidden Life

By forestport12

Luke was alone again in the cabin, except for his little bulldog Bugsy who watched his every move. Luke ransacked the cupboards until he chanced on a dusty bottle of Jack Daniels. He took too big of a swig until it torched his throat, and he sprayed the remnants of his drink. Bugsy ran for cover. The room spun. He closed his eyes until he could sit and read where a shaft of light poured through a window.

Before Luke read the first letter from his former high school girlfriend, he noticed it was from Amherst, NY near the Falls near Buffalo. He clutched his letter, closed his eyes and tried to go back in time and imagine how life would have turned out if they had married. His first love.

He took the stack of letters and read the first one, as instructed by his wife, Sharon. Suzie explained how when she got pregnant, her parent's moved her out of state to an aunt to have the child. How she was told not to tag Luke as the father, or they would have him arrested and up on charges since she was still fifteen, and he was eighteen. Her father, a lawyer, was deadly serious. He had the connections to make it stick.

Luke read the letter, as if in a trance. "From my Aunt's house, I thought about calling you a thousand times. I would lay in bed and dream about how we would work out a plan to run away together. By the time I had the baby and was sixteen, I was less afraid of my parent's world, I heard you had gone to school, and you were dating someone. Then, myself esteem was in the toilet, and I just couldn't tell you. I regret, every day now. A few years later when I finally worked up the nerve and Chrissy was two years old, you had gotten married. I figured it would ruin your life."


Luke's mind pinballed back to his wife, Sharon and the divorce papers. He was free now but kneecapped by his own brush with the law he swore to protect. His life was turned upside down and he felt as if he should be hanging from the rafters of the cabin. He had only known Suzie moved away to live with an aunt, and when he tried to contact her through her parent's they stonewalled him. He expected to hear from her, then finally gave up, found a new life in college, and then got married to Sharon. But now the memories flooded him with such regret he could scarcely come up for air.

Luke went further back in time when he was a teenage Peeping Tom. He walked the back woods spying on houses. Suzie's was the last one. He hid behind a tree. She spotted him and ran out to greet him. Luke acted like he was looking for arrowheads with his head down. "What are you doing, she asked."

"I heard there's arrowheads in the woods."

She smiled with wide emerald eyes of wonder. She stepped toward him. "Let me help."

Luke couldn't say no. He was ashamed, he'd been spying on people. He was just a bored twelve-year old. Suzie was the cutest Tom Boy he'd ever met.

"Sometimes I find seashells," said Suzie. "My Dad told me that all this land used to be under water."

Luke was in love from the moment she smiled his way. He swallowed a lump in his throat.

Suzie made up for his lack of words. "Hey, do you want to smoke cattails? We have some by the tracks. I'll grab matches." She darted back to the house.

When she raced back, Luke didn't mind following Suzie to the weeds. It was a warm sunny day. They were so close to the railroad tracks he could smell the iron rails. They made a bed of grass, broke off cattails, smoked them, and pretended to be adults. They looked up at the pearly blue sky watching jet trails paint on nature's canvas.

Suzie looked over at Luke. "Do you ever wonder what you will be when you grow up? Like will we have kids, a family. Will we... like do something special with our lives?"

Without hesitation Luke said, "I want to be a police officer or a fire fighter and save lives."

Suzie cried. "This world is a dangerous place. I don't know if I could keep my own child safe from all that can go wrong."

Luke was ready to tell her anything to keep her from crying. "when I get my badge some day and you need me, I'll be there."

Tears pressed against Luke's eyes, as he looked up from the letter. His old love for her stirred within him like hot coals on a cold, starry night.

Luke opened the next letter and the one after that. Each one offered a timeline and the story of an unknown daughter growing up in a world without him. Pictures came with the words. Snapshots of Chrissy as a child on a swing, then a young girl doing gymnastics, and then a teenager.

Chrissy looked like Luke, a narrow face with hazel eyes. He paused over the picture of her wearing too much eye shadow and lipstick. A lost teen.

The last letter explained the desperation. "Please call! Please help me find her. She quit school, she's runaway, and she's connected to a drug dealer. You may be the only one who would do what it takes to bring her back. You know how to be a detective. I still recall your promise so long ago, as if it were yesterday. Please, please! I'm begging you. Help me find my daughter. Help me find our daughter."

Tears broke like a dam. He wept out loud. Bugsy, his bulldog looked worried.

But it was true, Luke more than anyone needed to help Suzie find their daughter. His chest tightened. A burning resolve swept through him, stronger than the liquor.

He was a man on fire.

Author Notes

*** Many thanks to Moonwillow who allowed me to post the perfect picture for my story. The scene about Luke being a young guy snooping in the woods and a girl discovering him behind her house was true experience I had where we went out by the tracks and smoked cattails pretending to be adults and talking about what life will be like when we grow up. I've heard Suzie now lives in her old parent's house. I'd look her up, but I don't think my wife would approve. Lol.

Chapter 9
Ghost Girl

By forestport12

Part Two

Spike, the novice pimp renamed Chrissy, Crystal. As a teen, she had potential on the fresh meat market. She was loyal to the heroin he provided her. You could say he owned her because of it, since she'd come back like a loyal dog once before. He figured he'd have her work the streets, or maybe the back room of the porn shop where peep shows might give her pass on her youth and inexperience.

From downtown Buffalo area, Crystal wasn't far from home in Amherst suburb where Mom prayed for her every day. But it might as well have been another country or the Grand Canyon between them, since Spike had her by the tracks on her skinny arms. Her home was with Spike, on the far side of a rundown motor inn off a busy street.

Every city had the seedy side of town. Buffalo was no different. There's always a place where the addicts and the drugs flow. Downtown Buffalo had a modern look. Mini skyscrapers where Niagara Falls could be seen with all of its fury. From Crystal's view through her milky window were abandoned brick building ready for a wrecking ball. She needed to be rescued before life was hollowed out. But how do you find someone whose nearly invisible?

As Crystal sat on the edge of the bed near noon, she waited for Spike to come back with burgers and fries. Still in a stupor from last night's shot in the arm she found some crack residue on the cheap dresser. She leaned over in short cut jeans and filthy blouse. Her racoon eyes caught the mirror and made her pause. There was hardly anything of Chrissy left to claim, a mere shadow of herself. She knew what was coming. She owed Spike. She'd have to do something on trade.

There was an echo of hunger in the pit of her stomach where she cried deep inside. She bowed her head. Crystal pressed a finger to one nostril and snorted the remnants of crack on the dresser when the door snapped open. It made her heart leap, and her stomach knot.

Spike with his sharpened hair in the air shook his head and grimaced over how defeated Crystal looked. He had what she needed, a bag of fries and drugs to keep her on his leash. "You look sick? You need to get cleaned up and earn your keep."

Crystal loved and hated him in one. She looked at the mirror again, took time to blame God, blame her mother for not allowing her to have a real father. She still blamed her for marrying a man who turned out to be a prolific pedophile. And then her Mom drops a bomb. "Your real father is Luke Cole, he's a police officer. I've tried to contact him. We need to see him. He's the father you should have been raised by. It's all my fault."

Crystal talked to the ghost in the mirror. "Yes, it's all your fault. You turned me into poison." That made her feel gutted like a fish out of water. She clutched her stomach, as if she could feel the knife turn.

Spike looked he heard an insult hurled his way. "What you say? My fault."

He looked like he could hit her for what he thought he heard. Crystal tried to change the subject. "My real father's a cop. He doesn't know I'm alive."

Spike handed her the fries that got lost in the bag. She dug for them. "Well good," he said. "Let's keep it that way."

"Yeah," she said. "I don't exist. I'm just a ghost."

"And I'm your Daddy now. Don't you forget it," He said, stroking her filthy blonde hair.

Author Notes

Characters: Luke Cole. State police officer and father of a lost girl in Buffalo he only just learned he fathered with his high school crush years ago. Chrissy or Crystal: a fifteen year-old runaway from Buffalo area burning with bitterness and stuck in the vicious cycle of drugs. Spike: a wannabe pimp and drug dealer. Sharon: Luke's wife, who held back the information of his first biological daughter in part because she blamed Luke Cole for the death of their daughter. Suzie: Luke's old flame who finally made contact with him over the revelation of his missing daughter.

Chapter 10
Reflections of the Lost

By forestport12

Warning: The author has noted that this contains the highest level of violence.

Crystal caught another glimpse of the ghost in the motel mirror. Vacant eyes, vanilla face, sharp bones on thin skin, but it was her-trapped inside. She fell and spread on the bed in her sports bra and cut-off jeans. Resigned.

Freedom was gone when she met Spike. He controlled her from day one, and with her love for him, she'd do anything-anything. And she did then, starting with crack, then a month later the needle, that first surge in her veins, an instant wash of euphoria, better than sex, better than life. It hooked her, the heroin, but that's what he wanted, not the company to do drugs, or the fellowship. It was for domination. Control.

Funny how the phobias of needle as a child seemed ancient. How once upon a time she sat on one of those sticky leather exam benches and cried thick tears over getting poked.

A knock on the door prompted Crystal to wipe the tears from her face. Spike had once said she had to pay for the drugs, food, and shelter. He hinted she'd need to open herself up to the possibilities. She swallowed a lump in her throat when she heard an older man ask for Crystal, her play name. She thought about going in the tiny bathroom and locking the door, but Spike would just knock it down. He's already put holes in it for taking too long in the shower.

As she looked at herself now, it was not a ghost, but somewhere between life and death. And her random thoughts sparked memories of innocence, her virgin life with her mother, the prom, drive-inn movies, malt shakes, a life she hated, a life lost. If she could rewind, she would, but now the drugs, the heroin especially kept her on a hook. She laid there, half-naked, beyond shame. But she dreaded the knock, the John on the other side of the flimsy door in the cheap motor coach inn.

Spike threw the bag of fries at Crystal. He stalked over and looked threw the peep hole, half expecting it could poke him. "I got nothing you want old man!"

"Got a hundred bill."

Spike looked over at Crystal.

Crystal curled into a ball. Her insides heaved. She tensed up. Was he turning her into the street or someone buying her as a sex slave? She had only wanted Spike.

Spike leaned against the door. "Get out of here, pervert."

Crystal rolled over, planted her bare feet on the cold linoleum floor. Relief washed over her. She dug into the bag and found her cheeseburger. She splayed the wrapper and wolfed it down.

Spike turned from the door. "You eat like a horse but are thin as a rail.. Men don't like women who show their bones. I've got you in at the Paradise. You start in the back where men pay to watch you strip."

Crystal stood. She protested with pleading eyes.

"I got some girlish dresses for you try on, ones to hide the tracks on your arms but enough skin to tease a man." Spike stroked her hair, then bunched it into his fist, holding her like it was a rope.

Crystal fought with words. "But I thought I...I could help you here. You know, cook, clean..."

Spike sprouted a sinister grin. "Oh, like a regular Susie Homemaker?" Then his face tightened. The veins in his neck hardened. "I'm doin' you a favor. Get it! I could have you opened like an oyster."

Spike shoved her on the bed where she bounced off on the other side and banged her head on the wall leaving a mark in the sheetrock.

Crystal crawled around the bed, eyes wide, mind in a fog, she apologized. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

Spike paced around the room. "You should be thanking me, for keeping you safe."
"I've got to make my run. Try those dresses on. You start tonight. I'll be back soon." He tossed the dresses on the bed next to her, grabbed his keys from the dresser and left.

She thought, why not just leave. But she knew what he would bring back. The craving bore into her soul. She threw herself back on the bed. Resigned.

***


Luke packed up his Jeep Liberty from the cabin, he knew his search for Chrissy would mean he'd be on his own, a man without a badge or department to back him up. He'd be a ghost detective. He couldn't chance getting jailed when trying to find the daughter he hadn't known existed a few hours earlier. But now he had Bugsy his bulldog riding shotgun who would lick his internal scars for him-if he could.

Luke fired up his jeep and checked his phone. The Amherst address was there. He put it in his GPS. He drove down the rutted logging road, bouncing and rolling around with his best friend Bugsy where the canopy of trees played peek-a-boo with the sun.

On the highway, he left the Adirondack Park and into the foothills toward the thruway west. A few hours into his drive, he dove into a rest area and looked at Bugsy's mug. "I need a shower Bugs. Sorry, I can't take you with me. Yea' I know, we both smell like dog. I'll bring you a treat."

Renting one of those trucking showers, he stuck his head under the spray where he imagined he was under Niagara Falls absorbing his punishment for being an absentee father. His thoughts ran between two women, the wife who threw him out and his first flame from High School. Then he shaved his beard in front of the mirror until he recognized his old self.

After climbing into his jeep, he looked over at Bugsy and pulled a biscuit from his jacket, giving it to him in the front seat. "I promise to clean you up when we get to Suzie's. I heard tell she has a cat. You okay with it?"

Bugsy said nothing. He just licked his chops. Luke jumped on the highway, his mind a pinball of prospects bouncing in his head over finding his daughter and if his love for Suzie the mother would stir the cold ashes of the past. Soon there'd be no miles or walls between them. Vulnerable.

Within each mile his heart drummed harder. His mouth dried. His tongue clave. Nervous sweat beaded on his forehead. As he tugged on the wheel he found himself turning into a driveway where Suzie lived.

He turned off the ignition until the faint sounds of birds could be heard nesting in trees. Kids could be heard playing in their yards. It was a pleasant sunny afternoon with cotton clouds sometimes blotting the sun. Luke looked straight ahead, his mind drifting.

It was a white house with blue shudders guarded by thick hedges. The screen door whined open, bringing Luke back to the brink. Suzie stepped on to the porch. Her green eyes sparkled. Suzie was the same unassuming soul, unguarded, she dashed toward him, the same bouncy blonde hair he remembered from school.

Luke gulped. Once again, she held his heart in his hand. He slipped from the jeep where they embraced in the driveway. He wondered if this day was real. The electricity of the moment raced down to the soles of his feet like a bolt of lightning.

He kissed her on the cheek. She stepped back and smiled with a crease of concern under each eye. "This was all my fault. I'm so sorry I never told you. I...I"

"I'm here now. I'll find her. I'm on a leave of absence. I want to find her so I can tell her she has a Daddy, from now on. They say, love is something you do, not just say. I'm here now. I'll find her and bring her back." He said this he held her shoulders and looked into her tear-stained eyes.

Luke was about to kiss her when Bugsy bolted from the car door and chased after Suzie's cat who had been resting on the porch steps.

Author Notes

I love to write stories about redemption. This one is no different. I also like my writing to feel like the characters do live somewhere and what happens does so somwhere. Cast of characters: Luke Cole: a trained police officer on a forced Leave of Absence whose life spirals out of control until he finds a reason to come out of hiding. Suzie: Lukes old high school flame who revealed to Luke that he has a missing daughter. Bugsy the Bulldog: And Luke's best friend, or he wouldn't have any, loyal to the end.

Chapter 11
Stolen Time

By forestport12

Luke caught his dog and leashed him to a post outside the door. Suzie's cat was safe for now. He followed Suzie into her home. With his heart skipping beats, his mind a blender of thoughts. He wondered if she still loved him. How could he admit to it when they needed to find their daughter? It seemed time had stolen his first love and what could have been the life he should have lived.

Suzie led Luke to the kitchen table where pictures of Chrissy were spread out on the table, along with a tablet, notes she'd taken with names and phone numbers of friends and others Chrissy may have gotten in touch with who could give Luke a lead on her whereabouts.

"You want some coffee?" Asked Suzie.

Luke's nose breathed in the aroma of fresh coffee. "I could use it. Haven't slept much." He ran his fingers through his mousy hair.

"I don't even know how you take it."

"Black with a heap of sugar."

Suzie tried to steady her hand to pour Luke a cup of Joe. She managed to get it to him without spilling any.

Luke was unable to take his eyes off Suzie. "I made a promise. I told you I'd be here for you someday, if you needed me."

"I...I never meant to hold you to it. We were just kids. Dreamers." Tears filled her eyes.

Luke looked down at the pictures of the daughter he never knew existed until a week ago. Suzie showed him a more recent photo of her from high school, dark hair, and dark eye shadow. There was no crease of a smile. It looked as if Chrissy had a dark cloud following her.

Suzie squeezed her eyes shut and rubbed her eyelids. "Can you forgive me?"

"There's nothing to forgive. We found each other again, and we have a daughter to find." Tears pressed against his eyes. "I won't give up until I find her and bring her back."

Suzie sat down, reached over the table, and held his hands. She bit her lip. "I've always loved you I've never stopped loving you. But I...I can't let that get in the way now."

Luke breathed on her hands, then kissed them. "I...I'm not sure how I'm supposed to feel. I know my wife's filed for divorce. She blames me for the death of our daughter, Taylor."

Suzie Looked shocked. "You named her Taylor, my maiden name?"

"I...I can't explain it. My wife and I both loved the name. You were always on my mind, even if I tried to bury it."

"I'm not so sure your wife, doesn't love you. I can't get between you. I suspect she's more alone than ever right now. I...I just don't want to lose my baby." She choked back tears. Turned away.

"I'm sorry, Sue. I won't bring us up again. I'm all in to find our daughter. No other thoughts will get in the way." Inside a voice told him that was a lie. There was a war brewing inside.

She turned back toward Luke. "No matter what, I won't ever live again as if you were a memory."

Luke lifted his eyes and studied the kitchen. There were plaques and verses on walls and even a magnet with a verse on the fridge. It reminded him of his father in-law, always giving plaques of scriptures as gifts. Always a quote. Now he sits alone in a home, his mind having left his body years ago.


Suzie looked uncomfortable, as Luke studied the verses around him. She squeezed his hands. "I always thought, if I raised her in Sunday School and kept her close, she'd turn out okay." Her eyes turned red from crying. Luke felt tears press against his eyes.

Suzie squeezed his hands. "Please find our daughter. I've made a mess of things. First, falling for and trusting a man who acted like a father, who abused my daughter. I prayed one day we would meet again, but not like this. You have a detective background and you're her father, the father she deserves to have."

Luke fingered his moustache. "You can't beat yourself up over it. I'm here now."

"This boyfriend of hers. It's like she's under a spell. She blames me for everything. She's punishing me."

Luke stood. "There's no time to waste. I need to get out there, now."

Suzie gave Luke the paper with Chrissie's friends listed. She'd circled one in particular. "This one, Stacy. I'm convinced she knows how to locate her, but she won't talk to me. I think you can get her to talk to you. Maybe pull out a badge or something."

Suzie's phone vibrated on the table, making them both flinch. She grasped for it. "It's Chrissy! I've left voicemails and texts. More than I can count." She answered it. "Chrissy!"

A stranger's voice spoke on the other end. "Ma'am, I found this phone. I just called to tell you."

"Who are you? Do you know my daughter? Where's Chrissy?"

Author Notes

Thanks Moon Willow for the perfect picture to my story. Cast of characters: Officer Luke Cole, given a leave of absence over a credible breakdown when his wife served divorce papers. Suzie: Luke Cole's first love as teenagers, who has a child that he didn't know was his until she turns up missing. Bugsy: Luke's pet bulldog, who becomes his mascot when playing detective.

Chapter 12
A Missing Link

By forestport12

Suzie's Sixty-Six Impala roared to life. Luke Cole pulled the car into the street from the garage. A meeting was established at a coffee shop, downtown Buffalo, where the mystery man claimed to have found their daughter's phone.

Luke jumped from the car and embraced Suzie. The warmth of her tender flesh swamped him, soaking his heart. He had to remind himself again, to focus on their missing daughter. He broke free, breathed a sigh. "I won't come back without her."

"Careful with this man," said Suzie.

As Luke climbed inside the car, he showed her the revolver under his seat.

Suzie frowned. "I hope you don't need it."

"No worries. I still got a conceal and carry."

Suzie folded her arms, like she needed to hug herself. "Call me later." She knew he needed to drive under the radar. He was on a leave of absence from the force and couldn't afford to be on the wrong side of the law.

Minutes later, Luke shifted gears between lights on Niagara Falls Blvd. Minutes from the falls, he was to meet the mystery man who found Chrissy's phone. Luke knew he was caught somewhere between fifty shades of gray. But there was something electric, a rush to be the missing link between black and white.

He took a deep breath, as he rolled toward the coffee shop shaped like a repurposed caboose. As described, there was a picture of large coffee cup on the sign. It was tucked in the shadow of Buffalo's downtown skyscrapers where old places ran out of space.

A homeless man sat on a milk crate. He wore a green army jacket and held a sign that read, "Homeless and Hungry."

Luke parked on the edge of a narrow alley, next to the dumpsters. He climbed out with his billfold, walked over and handed the man a twenty.

"God bless you," he said.

As Luke turned and shifted toward the cafe, he replied. "Looks like we all need a blessing or two. Do me a fav..., Bub. Keep an eye on my dog for me while inside. I'll bring you a cup a Joe on the rebound."

The man looked toward his car and nodded. "No worries. I got your back, bro."

As Luke stepped inside, a bell above rang his entrance. As he looked around, most everyone looked like the man outside, like maybe the coffee shop was a homeless convention.

A waitress with a pencil in her hair looked up from behind the register. She was maybe thirties, raven hair, and the crease of a smile. "You can sit where you like. I'll be over to take your order."

Luke nodded. It was late afternoon, and the sun found its way into the eyes of some patrons. One man sat in the back of the cafe. He eyed Luke. He described himself as wearing a Buffalo Bills cap. He was young, but troubled. He had peach fuzz for a beard, deep set eyes, and greasy blonde hair around his ears.

Luke sauntered over to the man who sipped his coffee, then guarded it, as if it could be taken. But Luke wanted to see the phone in question on the table. "You Doug?" Luke didn't come to mince words. Every moment it took to find Chrissy, left her in danger. He slipped into the booth on the other side.

"My friends call me Digger."

Luke figured he'd best lighten the mood. "I bet you're a diamond in the ruff."

"Yea, they never tell me that."

"You got the phone?" Luke pulled his hands from his jacket, hoping to ease the man's jitters.

The waitress bounced over. She was too perky for this place. "Coffee?" She held the pot and turned his cup over and poured. He breathed it in. "Let me know when you're ready to order. I'll come back."

Digger looked at Luke with hungry eyes. "I was hoping you could order something for us."

"Look, this is no social call. I need to find the person who owns the phone." He knew then, he'd want money too. "I need to see the phone?" Luke tried to bottle his temper.

Digger fumbled inside a flap jacket. He pulled it out but wasn't about to let it slip away.

Luke slipped a fifty toward him. That loosened the man's hands enough to let the phone go.

"I had to charge it up. I'm not a bad person."

"Never said so." What was percolating in Luke's head, was if he'd seen her, and where? Luke could see the phone had Suzie's contacts. "Where'd you find it? On the ground? Maybe you stole it?"

"No man! What you take me for?"

"I see a desperate man, who might have more than a phone to share."

"It was the dumpster out back. I found it in the dumpster."

"Look I don't have much time," said Luke. He pulled a picture of Chrissy. Did you see her?"

"No man. Geez. I was dumpster diving."

Luke fought the urge to choke information out of him. "You live around here?"

Digger slipped the fifty into his pocket. "I'm homeless, man."

"Then you may have seen something. Show me where you sleep?"

"But I'm hungry."

"So, you can buy plenty of cheeseburgers now. Let's go."

"You a cop?"

"I'm a father and a cop. And right now, the father in me doesn't know if you're telling me everything."

"But you have her phone now. I meant to do something good."

"The phone is a link to her. It's a start. But I need more. I need to know who you saw."

The man found enough fear to leave and walk through the clanging door. Luke slipped some money for the coffee and had the waitress give him his to go.

When the pair made it outside, Luke handed the man with a sign the coffee promised.

"You're a saint," said the homeless man.

"You wouldn't say that if you've seen me on my bad days." Luke stopped in his tracks. Showed him the picture of Chrissy and one of the pimp boyfriend Spike. "You see any of these two?"

"No, sir, brother."

Digger looked back at Luke following him. He looked scared enough to run. But he pointed to the dumpster. "I just found it in here one morning."

Luke pulled out a picture of Chrissy and the boyfriend. "Have you seen this man around here?"

"No man. With crazy hair like that, I would remember."

Luke was satisfied he didn't need to threaten his life. He wanted to save his threatening for when it counted. "You see this girl, you see this man, you call me! And yes, I will see you keep eating."

Luke gave him the phone number from his trac phone. He dove into his car and looked around. He figured there must have been half-dozen flea bag motels between downtown and Niagara Falls. His guess and gut was, she would be holed up with this Spike guy, not far from the coffee shop. He looked at Bugsy. "What?"

Bugsy gave his master a frown. Luke pulled a dog biscuit from his pocket and gave it to him. He looked at himself in the rearview mirror, turned the key, and the engine roared back to life. "We need to find a room, Bugs. And not any room, a room with a view where this dude sticks out like a sore excuse for a human."

Author Notes

Luke: a rogue police officer on a leave of absence Suzie: His old high school flame who revealed to him recently that he has a daughter. Chrissy whose name was changed to Crystal by a controlling boyfriend. Bugsy: Luke's mascot bulldog.

Chapter 13
A Raging River of Consequence

By forestport12

Luke drove Niagara Falls Blvd where all the cheesy motels claimed to have the best rates, minutes from the falls, but they weren't the places where pimps hung out. Tourist traps. He wasn't far enough into the underbelly of Buffalo where he needed to find his daughter.

He ran out of real estate and parked his car where you could walk a few hundred feet and look down on the American side of Niagara Falls. With a death grip on Chrissy's phone, he wondered if her so-called boyfriend erased all the contacts and messaged memories. Maybe he didn't expect it to be found so easily in a dumpster, or maybe he thought having stomped on it was enough before throwing it away.

Lucky break for Luke. Chrissy still showed contacts on her phone-a treasure trove of leads. As he tumbled from the car, his heart rapt like a speedbag about to burst. He took Bugsy with him on a leash and found a park bench where the cool summer mist of the falls showered them both. He was close enough to hear the thunderous sound of the water fall below where he didn't have to listen to his pulse pounding in his ears.

While Luke scanned the phone to locate the boyfriends phone number, a tour bus pulled up to the busy curb where Buffalo's skyline could be seen. As the group shuffled off the bus, it was clear they were Chinese and seemed less inspired to be on the American side of the falls when horseshoe falls in Canada was across the way in all its fury. He wanted to tell them that the Buffalo side was far more dangerous. No one ever survived the torrent of rocks below, even tucked inside a barrel. No time for small talk with his thumb on the phone.

Bingo! His real name: Brad Dunn. It seemed too easy, but every minute counted. He suspected his daughter would be trafficked or put on the street and pimped if he couldn't find her soon enough. Bile crept up his throat. He pulled up his own phone so it couldn't be traced to Chrissy's, and then called.

Voicemail kicked in. "Hey its spike. You leave a message, and if it is important I call you back. Got it?" Click.

Yupp! That was his M.O. "Hey, man. I hear you got a new girl. I want to see what's on the market. I'm not in town for long. Call me."

Luke bent over, away from Bugsy and puked. He didn't know if he had the stomach to pretend to be a John in order to find his daughter.


@@@@@

Crystal put the silky sun dress on in the bathroom. Then she turned her dirty blonde hair into pigtails with rubber bands. She put eyeshadow on and blush to hide the racoon eyes looking back at her in the mirror. Spike wanted her to look like she just came from the school yard before he took her to the club where they had those backroom doors where men paid for a peep show.

"Come on Crystal. It's time for you to make a good impression on the clubs owner."

She knew he'd break the door down. She swallowed a knot in her throat and opened.

He stood back and admired her girlish look. "Not bad. Not bad at all. Men are going explode when they see you."

Crystal choked on her own vomit but kept it down. "When can I have my phone back? My mother's going to be worried. I promise, I won't tell her where we are."

"Don't worry about your phone. Do this for me tonight, and I will let you call her to tell her you're fine."

Fine, she thought. Fine! She had to use makeup to cover the bruise on her face.

"I told you. It's just a peep show. No one can touch you. We need to make money if we are going to California."

"California?" He hadn't mentioned it before.

"I got a client, a big named one who wants to see you. I've already sent him pics. He's our golden movie ticket."

Crystal wanted to scream. She wanted the child inside to come out and run for it. She wanted to believe there would be a way out. The walls closed around her. The room spun.

Author Notes

Luke Cole, a father who is on a Leave of Absence from his job as a police officer. Chrissy, his daughter renamed Crystal by her pimp boyfriend. Spike, the guy who lured her away on false promises of freedom from her mother.

Chapter 14
Uninvited into the Underworld

By forestport12

Luke drove Niagara River Road into the city of Buffalo. Between buildings he caught glimpses of the raging river from where he was going against the current and into the seedy side of the city. Clean grey, slate buildings of several stories turned into old redbrick buildings, some with for sale signs and some with holes for windows. Then the shady motels popped up between mini-marts and tobacco shops-some with bars on the windows.

As Luke drove his chevy muscle car his arms cramped from strangling the steering wheel. He pulled over to a curb, as the sunset over the river behind the abandoned buildings and alleyways full of trash and broken glass. In the shadows a young girl emerged. At best she was eighteen, but probably younger. She wore one of those checkerboard outfits, like catholic school dress. Her eyes were dark as olives. She strutted over to him. He lowered the passenger window with the doors locked. She leaned inside. She looked oriental, maybe Thai. She stroked Bugsy.

"You look lonely. You and the doggie want some company tonight?"

Luke was at loss for words.

"You a cop? You look like cop-man."

Luke recovered from the shock. He'd slipped into the fat underbelly of the slimy world. She must have thought he was using his dog Bugsy to get her in the car. He pulled out the picture of his daughter, Chrissy, the one Suzie gave him wearing her cheerleading outfit. "I'm looking for her."

The hooker looked back, as if afraid she was being watched. Then she backed away. "You want something? You looking for her? She's too pretty for the streets. Maybe. Try the clubs. I don't kiss and tell for nothing."

Luke didn't want to scare her off. "But do you recognize her? She's my daughter."

"Don't think so. Hard to say. They all look the same. Young and dumb."

Guilt pressed against Luke's chest. He wanted to save her. "If you want, I can take you to a safe house?"
,
The girl leaned back in the window. "You look like you need the safe house, mister. She really your daughter then?"

Luke gave her a card with his cell number. "If you see this girl, please call me."

She hesitated. Started to waltz off. Luke yelled out. "Here's a twenty. Get out while you can."

She reached inside, grabbed the twenty bucks but seemed to have second thoughts. "This world needs more fathers to step it up." She left for the darkness.

Lights flashed in Luke's rearview mirror, then a blast from the siren, both blinding and deafening him in one swoop. Bugsy dove down to the floorboard. Luke's heart sank. He knew it was a sting. Great! He slunk down into his leather seat. He would have preferred water torture.

To his left an officer in plain clothes flashed his badge. Luke squinted and nodded. "I'm officer Pete."

The girl stalked back. She was a good actress as a hooker. And a young cop who looked like she could be a high school student. She interrupted. "He's okay. He's looking for his daughter. That's why he paid me."

Officer Pete smiled. Luke was hoping he wouldn't check his background and find out he was on a Leave of Absence with an assault charge on his neighbor too. "Okay, this sir is no place for you to go cowboy, trying to find your daughter. I handle investigations. Leave it to me, maybe I can help."

The pretend hooker leaned in. "Show him the picture. Give us a chance."

Luke complied. But he worried about giving them too much information. He was able to give the undercover officer his old girlfriends name and address with phone contacts. He added some details. "She's believed to be hung up with a guy named Spike. We think she's working for him."

"I've heard that name, Spike. He's a small-time drug dealer, not a pimp. Low on the radar. If she wants to be with him..."


Luke injected. "No, no. She's sixteen. She needs a way out."

"Relax," said Officer Pete. "We have informants. I can get to the bottom of this."

"What if they feel the heat and take off? Here and now is matters. And you already have a missing person report."

The pair just looked at each other. Then officer Pete tagged him. "Look, I will find out where it stands. Meanwhile stay out of it. As the girl's father, it could muck things up."

Luke just nodded. He didn't want to tell them he knew how to investigate. If they ran a background on him things might go sideways. He nodded his head, but his heart fisted.

Luke pulled away and feigned that he was going back out of town toward Amherst. Then he drove into an alleyway and waited. After several minutes, he revved up the car and took off deeper into the underbelly of the city where he passed a couple night clubs. He turned into a motor inn where the neon vacancy sign was on. As he pulled up to the office, he could see a thin man in a dirty t-shirt reading comics behind his desk.

The look on officer Pete's face only fueled Luke's desire to find his daughter. Stepping out from his car, the smell of smokestacks and spent rubber stung his nose. He plunged forward toward the office.

The door was locked shut to the office. With a cigarette dangling from his mouth, the young man pointed to the plexiglass with an intercom and a bucket below where you sign a card and drop your money for the key and a room.

He'd found the underbelly of Buffalo. Next stop Hell...

Chapter 15
A Message of Hope

By forestport12

Luke turned the fat key to door number six of the Niagara River Motor Inn. He would have preferred number seven on the end. The door shuddered open, as he shoved it with his shoulder. The stale air crawled up his nose.. Down at his feet, Bugsy with his twitching nose looked inside, unsure of his master's decision. "I just need a nap, then you stay here and hold the fort when I go out."

Luke flicked on the light. He threw his gym bag on the rug. Bugsy hopped on the bed. Nothing special. It had one of those old beds you stick a quarter in that vibrates, stick furniture, one lamp by the nightstand. Luke pulled his revolver out from the butt crack of his pants and placed it in the drawer next to a Gideon Bible. Before settling down, he went over and tugged the window shades tight. He went over to the desk and took the chair placing it under the doorknob.

Bugsy studied Luke as he closed the curtains and then went over to the bathroom with barely enough room for the shower and a small sink. He walked over and clicked on the tv with remote. He sat on the edge of the bed where Bugsy snuggled on his lap. As he surfed the channels he found a nature show for his dog.

Luke breathed a sigh. He went over near the door and turned off the light. When Luke sat back on the bed and propped a pillow, it didn't take long for his eyes to get heavy. Once he closed his eyes, his body went numb. His mind took a break from reality.

His other daughter the one who never made it past seven comes to his bedside dressed in her soccer uniform and ball in her hand. "Wake up Dad. I have to go to soccer practice."

In his dream he mumbles, "No baby, you're not supposed to be here. It's dangerous."

She bounces the ball by the side of his bed. "I know, you have to find my sister. She's out there Daddy. It's okay, anyway. I'm with Jesus."

"I...I missed you."

"Because why..."

"Because you're not here. I can't go where you are and bring you back."

"I'm alive in you, Daddy. Stop trying to find me at the grave. That's just you being silly. I'm okay. Find my sister. You got this."

Luke jolts awake. Taylor was a dream, a lifelike dream. It was as if he could almost touch her. She wasn't angry. She hadn't blamed him for the accident years ago. Tears burned in his eyes.

Bugsy crawled over and licked his master's face. His pug face stared into Luke's eyes. He licked Luke across his mouth. "Stop." But Luke held him like a baby in his arms.

Luke sucked the warm stale air inside his lungs and lets it out, wishing he'd tried the AC unit. From where he sat, and despite the noise on tv, he can hear the cars go by on the boulevard and an occasional horn.

Luke got up and rifled through his gym bag and puts on a clean shirt but stays in his jeans. He goes to the small bathroom with a pink sink and douses a washcloth with warm water and massages his face. His quick therapy worked to starch his mind and stiffen his resolve in order dive into the underworld.

Luke leaves his mascot behind and walks down the street from the motel. Neon signs shine across the busy boulevard. He raced across and where Paradise club was buzzing with people. In the parking lot, he scanned where he thought Spike got into a car. It's dark and the windows are tinted. A flashback. It's the same truck! The one he saw at the gravesite in upstate NY.

Luke ran toward the truck. He sees shadows, maybe it's Chrissy in the back. He waves, but the truck speeds away toward Niagara Falls. If only he had his car.

Luke bends over, catching his breath. He pictured her looking back at him, wondering what kind of crazy would be trying to catch the truck. He raged inside. So close, so far away! He needs to know if she's been seen.

Every city has a place where the adult bookshops and strip clubs take over. Buffalo was no different. He looked up at the Flamingo neon sign. Next to that was Adult World with seduction painted in bold colors. His heart rapt hard against his chest. His lungs burned. He clutched his chest. It wasn't where he wanted to drop dead.

Men with vacant faces, probably many with families back home, maybe bored sitting in their rooms waiting for the next business day, converged at the open door. One of the skinny girls wearing what looks like sport bra with shorts approached him from the door to the club. "Here's a coupon for your first drink, half off."

Luke doesn't smile back. He can't save every girl. Some don't want to be saved. At best she's in in her early twenties. Her crimson lipstick appeared wet under the streetlamps.

Luke responded. "No thanks. I thought I saw someone in the parking lot I knew."

"We don't operate like that. Were a gentlemen's club."

Where was she going with this, he thought? He wasn't looking for a hookup. "No, I'm looking for someone who might be working here."

She was sizing him up. Some men would have loved flirting, especially for his age. "I'm not a snitch. And besides, I could lose my job. You'd have to talk to the manager."

"This is a picture of her." He pulled out the picture of Chrissy in her high school cheerleading uniform. She gives Luke a surprised look, maybe a look in code. But then her poker face made a comeback.

"Like I said, Mister. You can talk to the manager. His name is Buddy Dodge. Everything he does is legal. You a cop or something?"

"I was. I'm an investigator. Trying to find her."

"Let me show you where his office is. He's there, probably counting money. I can take you to see him and knock on his door, see if he's not too busy."

"Okay."

Luke follows the girl. She's so thin, she looks like she could break something when she walks. He decided to look down, but he tripped over the threshold. He didn't want to see all the flesh on magazines inside. He tried to keep one eye open, but it was hard catching glimpses of men brushing past him and the possibility that his own daughter worked inside. It made him hate the men who would have prying eyes on his daughter.

Once inside, he felt like the walls were closing in. But he followed the girl and made it to the office that had a two-way mirror big as a bay window. The girl knocked on the door.

"What is it?" A gruff voiced asked from the other side. "I'm busy."

"It's Candy. Someone's here to see you. He's looking for someone."

"He needs to pay like everybody else. You handle it."

Luke spoke up. "I need to know if a Chrissy works here!" He was loud enough to make browsers keep their distance who were scanning books.

He opened the door. "I don't have Chrissy working for me. Are you with the police?"

"Can we talk in private?"

He opened the door wider. One girl in a short skirt was sitting on his desk. It wasn't Chrissy. "Tomorrow. Say at one in the afternoon." He sighs. "I'm leaving soon."

Luke didn't want to cause a scene, not now. He didn't want everyone involved getting spooked and not coming back. Then he might not ever see Chrissy again. "Okay."

The man's brow furrowed before he shut the door. "You a cop?"

"No. I'm an investigator."

Buddy shuts his door. "Okay. Tomorrow."

As Luke escorts himself out, this time the young girl trying to draw men into the club follows him out. When she gets far enough away from everyone else she stops him in his tracks. "Don't tell the boss. But that picture. I have seen her here just the other day. Are you an investigator or a father?"

"Both."

Candy looks at him with pleading wet eyes. "I need this job. I'm a single Mom. I got nothing else going for me right now."

"Thanks." His eyes burn with tears.

"Be careful", She said, as he walks away.

"The guy who pretends to be her boyfriend needs to be careful."

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