suspect holding a gun to the shop owner’s head. Jake ducked behind his car, and was trying his damnedest to talk the man into giving up his weapon so he could get help to the injured cop. Instead, he started firing at Jake. Knowing that the officer was bleeding to death before his eyes, he ordered Rookie to stellen—to bite. Without hesitation, Rookie lunged toward the gunman, leaped through the air and latched onto the shooter’s arm and didn’t release until Jake commanded him to pust—let go.
The second time Rookie saved his life, Jake said, was after his wife, Sadie, committed suicide four years ago by leaping from the old train bridge into Five Mines. Though there was a witness who saw her jump they never found her body, just a splattering of blood from what was believed to be where she struck her head on the concrete piling below. She did leave a suicide note that Jake found lying on the kitchen counter later that night.
I’m sorry, Jake. I’m just so sad. Your life will be better without me. Love ~ Sadie
I’ve never seen Jake so distraught. My brother called and told me to go as fast as I could over to Jake’s, that he was afraid Jake was going to hurt himself and that he’d be on the first plane from Denver. When I arrived at Jake’s house I found him sitting on his back deck with his service revolver lying in his lap, Rookie at his feet. I remember the terror I felt when I saw the despondent look on his face—it was the face of someone who wanted to die. So different from the Jake I knew growing up. Jake was always the funny one who never let things get to him, could laugh at himself, defuse any tense situation.
I sat down in the chair next to him and put my hand over his. “Please don’t,” I whispered. He cried then. Great heaving sobs that I could never have imagined coming from the boy I once thought of as invincible. Rookie and I sat with him all night as he intermittently cried for, then raged against, the woman he loved. When he finally fell asleep, I eased the gun from his lap and hid it on a high shelf of the linen closet behind a stack of blankets. When I came back out to the deck, Rookie had squeezed into the spot next to Jake and nestled his head where the gun once lay.
Rookie gave Jake a reason to get up each morning and though it took a long time, about six months ago, glimmers of the Jake I used to know reappeared. He’s smiling more and thinking of something else besides work. I’ve started to wonder if he might have met someone, may actually be dating again. I have to admit I’m not sure how I feel about this. What is happiness for someone mixed with a little jealousy called?
“Well, I’d better go feed Stitch his real dinner,” I say. “Help yourself to the coffee.”
I go into the laundry room with Stitch at my heels and pull the bag of bargain brand dog food from a cupboard. I can’t afford the good stuff for Stitch but he doesn’t seem to mind and wags his tail while I scoop the kibble into his bowl. I can’t bring myself to take any money from David right now. So for the last eighteen months that I’ve been living on my own, I’ve been living off my savings. My lawyer thinks I’m an idiot. Though I’m not too proud to take advantage of David’s health insurance.
When I stand upright Jake is in the doorway, a serious look on his face, and for a moment I think it’s because of my choice in dog food. “I have to go,” he says, holding up his cell phone. “I just got the call. Someone was able to find Marty Locke.”
“So it really is Gwen?” I ask. A part of me was hoping I was mistaken, that the woman in the river just looked like my old friend.
Jake points to himself, makes a fist against his chest and rotates it in a clockwise motion. “I’m sorry, Earhart,” Jake says, coming to me and pulling me into a hug. And though I know it’s completely platonic, another human being hasn’t touched me this way in such a long time and the sensation seems foreign to me. His arms are strong and solid and all I want to do is to sink into his embrace but I know he has a job to do that could include telling a man that his wife isn’t ever coming home. Jake takes a step back so I can see his face. “I’ll call you when I can,” he promises. “And remember you need to come to the station for a follow-up interview. How about tomorrow morning around ten?”
I agree and return to the kitchen where I pour his coffee into a stainless steel travel mug and walk him to the door.
Evening has fully descended and the world outside is buried in shadows. There are no stars shining, no moon, no light from Evan Okada’s home. I wonder where he could be.
“Make sure you lock the door behind me,” Jake says, taking the mug from my hand.
“I will,” I assure him and watch as he strides purposefully to his car, unlocks the door, climbs in and turns the ignition. He lets the car idle for a moment and I realize he’s waiting for me to shut and lock the door before he’ll leave. I step back inside and slide the door shut. I make a point to waggle the broomstick in front of me and with great flourish place it in the door’s track. Jake waves and drives away.
Before Evan Okada moved in, I never worried about anyone being able to see inside my house at night. I had no problem wearing my pajamas or less because my house was the last one on this section of the river and the house on the bluff stood empty for so long. Now I have to be conscious of the kayakers and hikers that have since discovered this little known part of Five Mines. I make the rounds, pulling each curtain shut and lowering each blind until the outside world disappears. Stitch has finished eating and follows me around as I tidy up the kitchen. I hand wash the dishes, put away the cheese and crackers. I sweep the cracker crumbs littered across the counter into my hand and let Stitch lick them away.
I can’t stop thinking about Gwen.
I turn on the television and find a local channel. I rarely watch TV and when I do, it’s mainly to catch up on what’s happening beyond the walls of my house and practice my speech reading. I pull a pillow from the love seat, set it on the hardwood floor and sit as close to the television screen as I can. Stitch realizes that he gets the entire sofa to himself and climbs up and stretches his limbs across the cushions.
The bland sitcom I’m watching goes to a commercial and a breaking news banner fills the screen. The newscasters’ faces are serious and I’m sure the story is going to be about Gwen. The closed caption ribbon scrolls across the bottom of the screen. Though I try to focus on the speakers’ faces I still have to rely heavily on the captioning.
“A woman paddle boarding on the Five Mines River with her dog made a grisly discovery this Halloween morning,” the newscaster begins. “We take you now to KFMI reporter Mallory Richmond at the Five Mines Marina for a live update on this very disturbing situation.”
“That’s right,” the reporter says as she looks intently into the camera, “early this morning, a deaf woman and her service dog were paddle boarding just a few miles south of this very location when they stumbled upon the dead body of a yet to be identified woman floating in Five Mines.” Behind her an American flag, illuminated by floodlights, whips wildly in the wind but somehow her perfectly straight blond hair remains in place. The screen flips to a video of an ambulance parked as close to the dock as possible, its back doors open wide.
Eagerly, I read the words crawling across the television screen. “Police spent the better part of the day at the actual crime scene collecting evidence. Officials aren’t saying much but did confirm that the woman’s remains were transported by a Department of Natural Resources boat and transferred to this awaiting ambulance, as you can see in the video.” I watch as the DNR boat appears on screen and slowly makes its way to the dock.
As the boat comes closer I immediately recognize Jake with his broad shoulders and sandy hair. The DNR officer who was the first to arrive on the scene is steering the boat. His eyes widen when he realizes that a television camera is pointing directly at them. Jake, as calm as ever,
