Lost Echoes

51

She could still hit very hard.

Hard enough he was almost knocked off his feet. He fell backward against Harry the bear, making his wooden namesake wobble, but he managed to keep his feet by grabbing at the wall.

“Kayla—” he said.

She hit him again with the flat of her hand, grabbed his arm, twisted it so that it went behind his back, and he let her. Well, actually he liked to think he let her. Still, he didn’t fight it. No struggle whatsoever. He wouldn’t have been surprised if she pistol-whipped him.

Harry said, “Kayla, I’m sorry.”

“You’re a liar. You’re a goddamn liar.”

“I could be wrong.”

“You are wrong. You and your sounds. What shit, Harry. What shit.”

“I know.”

She let go of him with a shove, fell on the couch, and rolled the side of her face against the back of it. She heaved and then burst out crying.

Harry stood where he was, his face red on both sides, his arm aching from being twisted. He looked at Kayla’s back rising up and down, listened to her bawl. She was still wearing her uniform, fresh off the night shift, her gun was on her hip.

It didn’t seem right, seeing a policewoman cry like that.

“I’m sorry—”

“Just shut up, Harry.” When Kayla spoke her voice was muffled, pushed into the couch.

“Sure.”

“Completely shut up.”

“Okay.”

“I mean not another word.”

Harry caught himself in midapology, realized he was about to speak. He stood silent by Harry the bear. Without thinking about it, he patted the wooden critter on the head. After a moment he put his hands in his pockets.

Well, he thought, this has gone well.

He headed out the door.

“Harry,” Kayla said.

“Yes.”

“Don’t you dare leave.”

“Are you going to hit me any more?”

“No.” Kayla rolled over and slowly sat forward on the couch. She said, “I’m sorry. I just can’t believe it. I don’t understand. It doesn’t make sense.”

“I don’t know what it means, Kayla. No idea.”

“Come sit beside me.”

“You sure you aren’t going to bitch-slap me again?”

“Positive.”

“No arm-twisting either?”

“No arm-twisting.”

“Could you put the pistol away?”

“Harry, come here.”

He sat down beside her. She touched his face where she had struck him. “Can’t believe I did that.”

“It’s still pretty fresh in my memory.”

“Thanks for not hitting back.”

“I didn’t want to open that can of worms.”

She kissed him on his reddened cheek. “I am sorry.”

“Okay.”

“I’m sorry I said what I said. But maybe it’s not like it seems. Like it looked.”

“I’m just reporting here. Just tell ’em like I see ’em. I may simply be crazy, you know.”

“You’re not. I’m the one who got you into this.”

“I’m into it every day of my life.”

“Did you report it to the department?”

“What’s to report? I found an old car and had some dreams. I didn’t find Vincent’s remains. That’s what I went out there for. But I think he’s on that hill somewhere, covered in vines. What’s left of him anyway. A few bones here and there.”

She turned his face toward hers, kissed him on the lips.

“Harry?”

“Yeah.”

“I just want you to know, and believe me when I say this: I’m not trying to get your gum, so don’t fight me.”

“I’m not chewing gum.”

“Just an example of how you’re acting. To kiss, you have to open your mouth a little.”

“I know that.”

“It’s really okay to kiss back.”

“I’m a little leery.”

“I can understand. But it’s okay.”

He kissed back. It certainly was okay. He took her in his arms. They kissed deeply.

“I’ve thought about you ever since the day you moved away,” Harry said.

“Except when you were with Talia?”

“I thought about you then too.”

“Bet there were a number of moments you weren’t thinking of me.”

“Got a point. But I didn’t know you were available.”

“Good answer…I’ve thought about you too, Harry. Really. I had all this planned better. But tonight…I’m so sorry.”

“For what?” he said, and kissed her.

They came up for air late midday and ate sandwiches in the nude. It was a short-lived break, and then they were at it again in Kayla’s darkened bedroom, hammering away, making the bedsprings squeak like a wounded mouse.

Once, they looked up to see Winston with his head bent down, staring through the window, trying to figure things out. Kayla got up and closed the curtain, came back to bed.

After a while they lay in the dark, Kayla in Harry’s arms. She said, “I’m getting sore.”

“Me too.”

“Want to quit?”

“Are you kidding?”

“Shall we proceed then?”

“Once more, into the breach.”

She laughed. “That’s one way to put it.”

“Oh, there’s lots of ways to put it.”

The rest of the day went by and the dark room turned darker yet. They dozed off and on, and when they awoke they made love. Harry had never felt like this before. Kayla, though busy about it all, wasn’t as savage as Talia. Talia had been good, no doubt, but it was all pretty much like a game plan brought to fruition, the storming of the beach on D-day, a job well-done. With Kayla it came about naturally. They seemed to know exactly what the other wanted, and neither seemed to be trying to prove anything.

After a time Kayla said. “That one was the best.”

“Frankly, I don’t know I remember it all that well. I feel sort of as if I’m slipping into a coma.”

“Oh, now there’s a compliment for a girl.”

“It’s just all been so good I can’t take any more.”

“That’s better,” Kayla said. “Was it good with Talia?”

“Oh, come on, Kayla. To men, the worst is good.”

“Was she the worst?”

“Yes.” He thought it was the proper lie to tell.

“I can whip her ass, you know.”

“Never doubted it.”

“What say we sleep a little? I have to go back to work later.”

“Sure.”

Kayla set the alarm. While she was stretched out, messing with the clock radio, Harry took a moment to look at her. It was dark, but not so dark he couldn’t make out the long, lean shape of her body, and he enjoyed seeing it.

When the clock was set, she turned back to him and they shifted comfortably together.

“Maybe just one more time,” she said. “Just so we won’t forget how.”

“Oh, shit,” Kayla said.

The radio was playing, and had been for a while. Kayla rolled out of bed, said, “I set it for an hour ago. I’m going to have to quick-shower and go. Sorry, Harry.”

Harry leaned up on one elbow while Kayla darted for the bathroom. A moment later he heard the shower running. He padded a couple of pillows together and sat up in bed with his back against them, savoring the darkness.

After a short time the bathroom door opened and gave the room some light and some steam from the shower. Kayla stood drying herself with a towel, another one turban-wrapped around her head. He watched as she finished drying and pulled on her panties. They were black, and there was very little of them.

It was like watching the Venus de Milo put on her first set of clothes. Not a bad way to spend time.

“Damn,” Kayla said as she danced around the room, one leg in her uniform pants. She finally got settled, pulled the pants on, then her shirt over her bra. She sat on the bed and put on socks and shoes in the light from the bathroom. Harry kissed her neck.

“Don’t do that, or I’m going to be late for work.”

He pulled back.

“Well, you can do it just a little, while I tie my shoes.”

He did.

“Damn, what did I do with my gun? Sorry, got to turn on the overhead.”

She did. Her gun and holster were on a chair. Harry saw a photo on the night table. He had seen it in the dark, but couldn’t make it out, hadn’t been interested. In the overhead light he could see that it was an actual photo of the newspaper picture he had seen when Kayla became a local cop. This was a sharper, cleaner version, and more widely cropped. You could see that there were people to the left and right in the photo. Other cops watching the ceremony.

Harry rolled out of bed quickly, grabbed the photo, and looked at it closely.

“Kayla?”

Kayla looked up from fastening her gun belt.

“This man,” Harry said. “At the corner of the photo here.”

“What?”

“This guy. Who is he?”

Kayla looked. It was a tall, big-bodied, gray-haired man. He looked like the grandpa who would take you to your first movie, maybe buy you a snow cone and slip you dollars. He was staring at the proceedings from the wings, looking very grandfatherly and proud.

“That’s the chief.”

“Chief of police?” Harry said.

“Yeah…What’s with you, Harry?”

“Shit,” Harry said. “That’s the guy. That’s the guy in the garage with your father, and on the hill, one that raped the woman. He was with your father and the guy who fired the gun.”

Kayla sat on the edge of the bed and looked at the photo.

“The chief? He and my dad, they were so close.”

“It’s him, Kayla.”

“He helped me get in the academy.”

“Maybe he felt sorry for what he did.”

“If he did what you said he did, he doesn’t seem like a man who feels real sorry.”

“I have to agree.”

“Jesus. Not the chief. Could you be wrong?”

“For all I know I got a tumor.”

“You don’t have a tumor.”

Kayla sat for a couple of minutes in silence, and Harry didn’t break it. What had been a perfect day now had shit on it.

“All right,” Kayla said. “I’ve got an idea or two. I’m going to do a bit of investigating myself. This couple in the car, for one thing. Going to give a fresh eye to my dad’s murder, knowing what I know now, what you’ve told me. Can you come see me when I get off tomorrow morning?”

“I got school and work. Can you call me midday?”

Kayla nodded, and then she trembled.

“Shit. The chief. He murdered my father. The lying, two-faced son of a bitch.”

“You’re not going to do anything stupid, are you?” Harry said. “I know how hot-tempered you are.”

“I want to shoot him.”

“Your first idea is the best. No one’s going to believe some nut who gets images through sounds, not without evidence. You do the cop work, and I’ll help you any way I can.”

Kayla nodded.

“Promise?” Harry said.

Kayla reached out and took Harry’s hand. “Promise.”