Time to Ask for Help

Although my conversation with Mac was short, the concern in his voice added to the already high level of anxiety I was feeling. His insistence we stay in the car until Snohomish County Police got there, didn't sit well with Charlie, who suddenly proclaimed he had to pee. Fortunately, in less than ten-minutes, more than twelve Snohomish County police officers were cordoning off the area around the cabin with yellow tape. While not at all pleased over having an audience, Charlie finally got to pee.

A short, stumpy man dressed in blue jeans, a brown corduroy jacket, and a faded green flannel shirt, identified himself as Detective Reilly, the lead investigator. He was nothing at all like Mac. His breath smelled of garlic and his pock marked, bulbous nose screamed alcoholic in capital letters. The giant mole in the middle of his forehead was distracting and made it difficult to envision a brain inside his over sized baled head. After introducing himself, Detective Reilly abruptly walked away but not before telling us in a very loud voice, "Stay put."

The forensics experts arrived a few minutes later. Not knowing what they would or would not find, I was quite content to stay on this side of the fence and let them do their job undisturbed. Apparently, Detective Reilly had other plans. Standing in front of the car, he signaled with a jerk of his hand that he wanted me to follow him. Before getting out of the car, I turned to Uncle Martin and said, "I think Barney Fife wants to talk."

Uncle Mark nodded, and then asked Charlie, who was being unusually quiet, to hand him a blanket. It was only three in the afternoon, but it was already starting to get cold. I leaned over the seat and grabbed my jacket before getting out of the car. Detective Reilly didn't waste any time getting to the point. "Why didn't King County Police contact us about the cabin when they arrested your dad?" He grinned and then added, "I bet someone's head is going on the chopping block for this."

His tone of voice and cocky know-it-all attitude did nothing to instill me with confidence in his ability as an investigator. I didn't try to hide my irritation. "Everyone wants to be a Monday morning quarterback. The fact is, the cabin belongs to my Mom's father and when the police questioned us, none of us thought to mention it. They were investigating my Dad, not my mom's family."

Having to get in the last word, Detective Reilly smiled and said in an inappropriately sarcastic tone, "Doubt that's how the press will see it."

I could see the wheels turning inside his head. The turf-war had already begun. I hated to admit it but he was right. I knew it wouldn't be long before they found out about the cabin and the feeding frenzy would begin all over again.

After instructing us not to talk to the media, we were finally allowed to leave. During the ride home, Uncle Martin, Charlie, and I didn't speak. Charlie sat in the back with his head resting against the window staring off into space. I took advantage of the silence and tried to figure out what to do, talk to Mom and Aunt Em about Dad's parents, or wait and talk to Mac first. When we pulled into the hotel garage, I still had no idea what I was going to do.

* * * *

Not expecting us back for two days, Mom and Aunt Em were surprised to see us. The giggling, happy Mom I had seen the night before was gone and in her place was a tired, emotionally beaten woman. I doubted she knew what happened at the cabin, and could only assume her meeting with Susan had gone badly. I knew I should ask, but I didn't feel I could take more than one crisis at a time. I felt guilty, but for now, Susan would have to wait.

We all sat staring at each other for several minutes. Over the years, I learned that turning her head slightly to avoid eye contact, biting her bottom lip, or feigning a smile meant Mom was at the breaking point. When I saw her right eyelid began to flutter, I feared telling her about the cabin was a bad idea. However, I knew learning about it on the eleven o'clock news would be worse. I glanced at Uncle Martin and Charlie before blurting out the bad news. "It appears that someone has been at the cabin."

Mom's expression turned from concern to fear. I immediately tried to reassure her. "Don't get ahead of yourself. We don't know anything yet, just that someone put up a no trespass sign and a gate to keep people out. It may mean nothing."

Neither Mom nor Aunt Em took their eyes off me.

"I called Mac and he contacted Snohomish County Police. Until they finish looking for whatever they are looking for, we have no choice but to wait. Like I said, it may be nothing."

Mom reached over and took Aunt Em's hand. "Do you think that's where your dad took those poor girls?"

"Mom, for now it is just a gate and a sign. That's all."

My nonchalant attempt to downplay the potential seriousness of the situation failed. Even I had a sick feeling about what the police might find. No one said anything. The silence was painful, giving our imaginations far too much freedom to fill in the empty spaces and unanswered questions with ugly images of what we all feared.

After giving Uncle Martin a let's talk look, I got up and walked over to the sink. In a voice barely above a whisper I said, "I think it is best I talk to Mac about Grandpa. It is obvious, Mom and Aunt Em are hiding something. Maybe Mac can help me get some answers before I talk to them."

Uncle Martin agreed. I pulled my cell phone out of my pocket and dialed Mac's number. Although it was after nine, I was surprised he answered after the first ring. "Hi, James, I've been waiting for your call."

Feeling the knot in my stomach tighten,I paused a few seconds before responding. "You up for a cup of coffee? I think it's time we had a talk."

After hanging up the phone an unexpected, strange, and uncomfortable feeling came over me. A voice was screaming inside my head, but the words were muffled and made no sense. My chest tightened and I found it hard to breathe. The image of a familiar face flashed on and off like a faulty light bulb hiding beneath the muffled words that fought to be heard. My heart began to race. I needed some air.

Not bothering to tell anyone where I was going, I stood up and said, "I'll be back later" then walked out the door, slamming it behind me.