Detective Collins and the Van
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The police had been at my house for three days, but they’d found nothing. Not one clue. No sign of a break-in. Nothing on the street. And nobody. I’d been hoping that it would turn up somewhere.
I was starting to get worried about my mother. It’s one thing to lose your husband. But when you can’t find him, too? It made me feel even worse than if he had just gone missing on his own.
I kept telling myself that she couldn’t be involved, not after all these years. The only reason why they were here looking for her is that the man who came home early with blood on his hands happened to run into them while he was out. I know how cops think—they see everything.
But maybe they didn’t see what I did: a terrified woman trying to hide from someone who scared her so badly she wouldn’t come out of the house until he left. They hadn’t even searched the yard; there might have been footprints in the snow or something that could link her back to the scene of the crime.
My mother had been acting strange since Dad’s disappearance. She wasn’t sleeping very well, and she seemed jumpy as hell. She started drinking like she’d never touched alcohol before—and then I remembered: she hated being drunk.
And then, two nights ago, she showed up at my place with some guy named Mr. Van. My father’s old boss. The one who always told me to call him Mr. Van. He said he was coming by to pay our rent and give us some cash for the electricity, but I didn’t let him in.
Mom had been crying. “I thought I was going to lose it,” she said as soon as she saw me. She took off running down the street without saying another word. And that was when I called the police.
“You shouldn’t have done that, Mrs. Rourke.” Detective Collins stood beside the kitchen counter where I was making tea. “She’ll kill you too now. You know she will.”
I stared at him. He looked different than the first time I met him. His dark hair was longer, and he’d put on a few extra pounds. But that didn’t make any difference.
“What are you talking about?” I asked, still staring at him.
He shrugged. “We have a witness who says you threatened her with a knife and told her to stay away from your husband.”
“Who’s this witness? My mother?”
He nodded. “Yes. We’ve interviewed her, but she won’t talk to us unless we promise not to hurt her. That’s what the judge ruled.”
“Well, you’re not hurting her,” I said angrily. “Why would she lie? This guy was a friend of her husband’s, and that’s all. He came to check on her when he heard about my dad. I’m surprised she hasn’t already killed him herself.”
Detective Collins shook his head, but I didn’t care anymore. “Just tell her to go away,” I snapped. “And get me a lawyer so I can leave this town, and fast.”
***
I waited in my bedroom all night long, waiting for Mom to show up. When morning finally arrived, she had yet to arrive. And so far, neither had Detective Collins. I went downstairs, made breakfast, cleaned the dishes… and then I got bored. I sat on my couch, flipping through TV channels.
At some point, I fell asleep in front of the TV. But when I woke up, the sun had gone down outside and I still hadn’t seen Mom or Detective Collins again.
So I did what any other person in my situation would do: I decided to go see a movie. As a last-ditch effort to forget about my problems, I bought a ticket to the newest horror film playing at the theater, just around the corner, and walked over to watch it.
It was a pretty good flick, although they should’ve had more blood in it. But the main actor was hot, and even though the plot was stupid, he did a great job of scaring me. After the movie, I walked home alone, wondering if I should try calling Detective Collins again or whether it was best to wait until tomorrow.
I figured it couldn’t hurt. He probably would appreciate hearing from me—after all, he’s supposed to be doing a background check on my mother so he could figure out where she was hiding.
But as soon as I got home, I realized that there were no messages waiting for me on my answering machine. It didn’t take long for me to realize that the detective was lying to me. Or maybe my mother had found him and killed him instead. If anything, she seemed capable of it.
I went inside and locked the door behind me. Then, as I lay down on my bed, I realized that Detective Collins’ message had been set up. A trick meant to scare me so that I would keep my mouth shut when he showed up. He was planning on breaking into my house to search for evidence, and if he couldn’t find any, then he would kill me.
And now, it appeared, he had failed.
That was when I decided to call the police.
The phone rang several times before I finally heard someone pick up the receiver. I didn’t bother telling them I wanted to report my mother for kidnapping and murder. All I had to say was that I didn’t want Detective Collins showing up on my doorstep again, because if he did, he would kill me.
I hung up the phone. I didn’t feel scared anymore, not after everything I had gone through. I knew Detective Collins wouldn’t dare show his face in front of me, not knowing that I had already reported him to the police.
I went back downstairs to make some dinner and sit in front of the TV. The movie hadn’t ended, so I continued watching it. Halfway through the credits, Mom knocked on my door.
“Come in,” I said, standing up from the couch. “Are you hungry? There’s chicken in the fridge, along with some salad.”
“No thanks,” she replied. “I brought you a present.”
My heart skipped a beat. “What is it?”
“A knife,” she said. “One of those you use to cut vegetables.” She held out her hand, and in her palm was a small, black kitchen knife. “I hope it’ll come in handy while you cook.”
***
Mom left me alone in my apartment for three days. She didn’t come back, and neither did Detective Collins. They’d both gone to jail, and I was relieved. I spent most of my time in front of the television, but whenever I felt lonely, I took out the knife Mom had given me and practiced cutting things with it.
After the third day passed, I started to miss her. It wasn’t fair how she kept leaving me alone like that. Not even for one night. What kind of mother does that?
On the fourth day, I was sitting on my couch, staring at the window, thinking about what to do next. When I heard a knock on my front door, I jumped off the couch and ran over to answer it myself.
Detective Collins looked much older than I remembered, his eyes hollow and tired. He stood outside in front of my door for a minute before opening it. “You’re free to go home,” he said.
“I thought I was never going to see you again!” I exclaimed.
“Sorry for keeping you here, Mr. Cooper,” he apologized. “We had to question you, and we needed to take your fingerprints, but now you are free to go.”
“Thanks…” I said.
Then Detective Collins handed me an envelope filled with cash. “Take this,” he said. “There should be enough in there to pay for your plane tickets and rent a place until you get a job. We’ve also written you a letter stating that your mother’s arrest has nothing to do with you.
You don’t have to worry about being arrested for anything she did. Just take care of yourself. I’ll leave you with these business cards in case you need to contact me or anyone else working for the police department. If you ever run into any problems, just let us know.
Now, I’m going to head back to my office and check in on my other cases, and I’ll talk to you later. Don’t think twice about calling the police if you need any help.”
He closed the door behind him and disappeared. That was when I realized he hadn’t shown me the card before he left. I reached out and grabbed it. There were two names and numbers printed on it: Detective Thomas Collins (for personal matters) and Detective Ryan Williams (for work-related calls).
As soon as he was gone, I ripped open the envelope and took out the money. There was a total of twenty-five hundred dollars. Enough to last me for quite a while. With my savings from working part-time, the amount of money in my account was pretty good. My mother hadn’t taken any of it from me. She was really nice for not taking the money.
I took all of the cash from the envelope and counted it out carefully. There were thirty thousand dollars in there. Thirty-five hundred per person. Twenty-seven thousand per kid.
I went back over to the couch and sat down. After a few minutes of counting, I got up and placed the money in my wallet. Then I put the envelope in a drawer and locked it. For now, it would stay in there where no one could find it.
I was still trying to figure out what I was going to do with the rest of my life, but for now, I was content being alone in my new apartment. I was free from Detective Collins’ threats and able to live comfortably, even though I didn’t have anyone by my side.
Maybe I didn’t want someone right now, especially not a girl. I was still afraid that I might end up like Dad, so I didn’t know if I wanted a girlfriend right away.
Besides, I had plenty of time to figure out my future plans. I didn’t plan on going anywhere until after Christmas, which was only two months away. And who knows what would happen during those two months? Who knew how my life would turn out?
Maybe it would be the best thing that ever happened to me.
***
Christmas arrived a week later, bringing with it cold weather and snow. As I walked across town to visit my grandmother’s house, I could feel the chill in the air and smell the pine trees covered in snow. It had been a few months since I saw my grandmother. Even longer since I’d last seen my grandfather.
I knocked on their door and waited outside until I heard someone call out to me through the window. Then a tall woman opened the door and welcomed me inside.
“Hiya! Merry Christmas!”
“Merry Christmas to you too,” I replied. “It’s so good to see you, Grandma.”
She gave me a hug and led me to the kitchen table to sit down. We spent an hour catching up on each other’s lives, but it seemed that neither of us had changed much from the last time we were together. My grandparents were still old, living in a big house on a huge piece of land far away from everyone else. They were rich and owned a lot of lands. But they weren’t happy.
They had lost both parents years ago, and then my grandfather was diagnosed with cancer shortly afterward. It wasn’t long before he passed away. He was just seventy-eight when it happened, which is young for someone who had lived such a full life. His funeral was held in the local church and attended by close family members, including me.
My grandparents hadn’t told me why they didn’t attend his funeral. They simply said that it was better for them not to go. When I asked about it, I got an answer I never expected.
“Oh, you know, we can’t stand to be in the same room with each other. We fight all the time, and there’s always some kind of drama between us,” my grandmother told me.
She had never answered my question before. I couldn’t believe it was true, but it sounded believable because my grandmother seemed so angry most of the time.
After our meeting, I headed back home to spend Christmas with my own family. My parents and siblings were already gathered around the dinner table waiting for me. I quickly made myself comfortable and started eating. After a few minutes of conversation, I asked my brother something I hadn’t done before.
“Do you remember when I moved out of our house?”
“Yeah,” he said. “I’m sorry I didn’t come to the housewarming party at your new place.”
I felt bad. I should’ve invited him, but I thought it would be awkward to show up empty-handed, especially when I had nothing to offer. Instead of saying anything, I continued talking instead.
“You don’t need to apologize. You probably wouldn’t have enjoyed yourself anyway. Anyway, I didn’t invite anyone. I guess I assumed that no one would care that I had my own apartment. I was wrong. I wish I would’ve invited you guys.”
My brother shrugged and turned back to his plate, while my sister just laughed. The laughter was followed by silence as everyone stared at me expectantly. I was embarrassed to think that my move away from home was somehow funny to them.
But then my mother finally spoke up and put an end to whatever they were expecting to hear.
“You’re a grown man now, David,” she said. “It’s time you moved out. If you need help moving into your new place, let us know. We’ll come over and help out with the heavy stuff.”
That surprised me a little. I wasn’t expecting such generous words from my mom, but I was grateful for the support. My dad didn’t say anything either, but I could tell from his smile that he was proud of me.
We finished dinner and cleaned up afterward. Then we went our separate ways to get ready for bed. While I got changed and brushed my teeth, I wondered if I could really ask my family for help. They were so much more powerful than me. Would they be willing to help me like that?
After thinking things over, I decided that it couldn’t hurt to ask. There was always a chance that they wouldn’t agree to lend a hand. But maybe I’d be pleasantly surprised. I took a deep breath and approached my sister. She looked up from her phone and smiled at me.
“What’s up?”
I explained the situation and asked if she’d be willing to lend me a hand. Her eyes widened at first, but after hearing everything, her expression turned sympathetic.
“Of course, I will,” she said. “Let me talk to mom and dad and we’ll meet back here tomorrow morning.”
The next day, my sister came by the house and told us what needed to be done. The three of us spent all of the following day cleaning up, packing things up, and moving everything into my new place. My parents helped out too, which made the process even easier for all of us.
By nightfall, we were ready to call it a day. My parents offered to stay over until the next morning, so we left them sleeping in the guest room and went back home to get some rest ourselves.
Christmas was only two days away and I knew I wanted to spend the holiday with my family. That meant I had less than 24 hours before leaving for a new life. Once I got some sleep, I would have to start the preparations for my trip back to New York City.
***
After getting some well-deserved sleep, I woke up refreshed and raring to go. With all of my stuff packed into the car, I called my boss and told him that I wouldn’t be coming in today or any other day this week. I figured it was safe to do so since I planned on returning in early January, and my employer understood that I was under a lot of pressure right now.
As I drove to the airport, my mind raced through everything that needed to be taken care of. It was easy to forget about my parents and siblings now that I lived alone, so I felt like I had let them down. And there was also my job.
My boss would have to find someone else to replace me, but I didn’t want him to do that until I returned home, so I’d have to leave word with my coworkers that I would return as soon as possible.
By the time I got to the airport, it was late in the afternoon, but I still had plenty of time. I grabbed a quick bite to eat and checked in with the airline clerk. Since I booked a one-way ticket, the process was a bit smoother than it might’ve been otherwise.
With a sigh of relief, I boarded the plane and was able to relax for a couple of hours. As the flight progressed, however, I started feeling nervous again. This time it wasn’t because I was worried about being attacked. It was because I was going to see my parents, who I hadn’t seen in quite a while. In fact, it had already been almost two months.
When the plane finally landed, I exited the gate area and began heading toward baggage claim. Before long, a crowd of people surrounded me and I realized they must be my parents.
I quickly scanned the faces and saw my dad waving from the front row, with my mom following close behind. Their smiles brought me a rush of emotion, and my knees wobbled slightly. When they spotted me approaching, both my mom and dad broke into huge grins and came running across the tarmac.
When they reached me, my mom wrapped her arms around me, and I hugged her back fiercely. She was so strong and warm and comforting, and I felt like nothing in the world could ever harm me again. My father stood off to the side, grinning as he watched the reunion take place. Finally, he walked forward and hugged me too. Afterward, we all sat down to catch our breath.
My parents told me how glad they were to see me and expressed their gratitude for my coming back home. My mom then gave me an envelope, which I opened right away. Inside was a note from her and some cash.
The amount was more than enough for me to pay off my debt, plus some extra money. I thanked my mother profusely for the gift and asked her if there was anything else she needed from me. She smiled warmly at me and said that she was just happy that I was back home.
It took a few minutes for everyone to calm down after such an emotional moment, but eventually, the three of us made our way out of the airport terminal to go home. When I was driving, I asked my parents about their lives since the last time I saw them.
They talked about all of the changes they’d gone through and the new challenges they faced, but most importantly they expressed their love for me and how much they missed me. I told them the same thing, and they replied in kind.
When we arrived back home, my parents invited me to stay with them, but I politely declined. I explained that I didn’t feel comfortable being there, given how much I’d changed. Instead, I asked if they minded if I stayed in a nearby hotel for the weekend instead.
After hearing my reasons, my parents understood my concerns and decided not to argue the point. I knew they were upset that I’d left without saying goodbye, but I also understood that it was better than me staying in the same house with them.
They’d been through a lot recently, including losing the farm, so they deserved a bit of downtime, even if that meant I couldn’t be around them as often as I used to.
That night, I went back to my hotel room and fell asleep with a smile on my face. The next morning I was awakened by my cell phone ringing. It was a number I didn’t recognize, and after answering I heard the voice of a man named Michael who introduced himself as my attorney.
Michael’s words echoed in my head as I hung up the phone.
The End