The Long Wait for Tomorrow Read online

  “What are you talking about?”

  The doorbell rang once more.

  “Where were you last night?” Elizabeth repeated. “We need to know. Now.”

  “I dropped them off,” Kelly said, once again standing at the kitchen door. “I dropped them off at Jenna’s house. Then I went out for a while. Then I went back to her house, and we stayed the night there.”

  Everyone turned to look at him.

  “Say whatever else you want,” Kelly said, backing through the kitchen door. “But remember what I just told you.”

  He backed up into the kitchen, leaving the rest with another chime to be reckoned with.

  Patrick turned and opened the door, still uncertain as to what was about to happen.

  Through the screen door, two men in suits raised their chins in an abbreviated greeting.

  he back door is open,” Donahue called out from the kitchen. He walked back into the living room and sent his thumb over his shoulder, bringing the point home. “Just thought you’d like to know.”

  Detective Donahue was a broad man, dark-skinned. A Latino-Anglo cross-pollination, not a trace of an accent either way. Not southern, not northern; not second-generation anything. Dark hair trimmed so close, there was no telling the texture. No telling whether he was politely reserved or inadvertently suspicious. His sentences defied punctuation, mixing periods, question marks, and ellipses.

  Detective Randal sat in the easy chair across from Patrick and Jenna. Undoubtedly, a man of manners, though he was also no easy fit. His white cheeks carried a flush that would have passed for embarrassment, anger, even panic if there had been some context to him. As it were, he asked his questions with the same routine ambiguity as his partner.

  “Kelly’s parents told us you two are lawyers,” Donahue said, walking around to Randal’s side.

  Patrick’s parents sat on the couch perpendicular to their son.

  “That’s right,” Patrick’s father told them. “I’m a tax lawyer and Elizabeth’s a civil lawyer.”

  “Thank you for making this easy,” Donahue told them. “Ordinarily, you-all can’t wait to let us in on that. Not you two, specifically. I guess my point is, usually, in my experience, lawyers can’t wait to tell cops that they’re lawyers. Telling us to watch our step, informing us of the law. In my experience.”

  “My father was a textile worker,” Patrick’s mother informed him. “I don’t have a chip on my shoulder when it comes to my job. And I’m glad to see you don’t have a chip on yours. I’ve found police officers to get a little touchy when it comes to the law. As though they’re the only ones involved in it. In my experience.”

  “So Kelly just left.” Randal leaned forward with the curious smile of a seven-year-old. “Went out without taking his car?” Before anyone could answer, he tacked on the name of his witness. “Patrick?” He looked over in Patrick’s direction, as though noticing him for the first time. “Hey, nice suit.”

  Patrick glanced down, almost pleased with the compliment over what had fast become his second skin. “Thanks.”

  “Maybe it’s time to send it to the cleaner’s, though.”

  Patrick absently tugged at his pants. “You were asking about Kelly?”

  “Yes, any ideas where—”

  “He was going for a walk,” Patrick told him. Taking comfort in the fact that his lies were so much less extraordinary than talking about a time-traveling mental patient. “He’s been having some issues.”

  “Yes,” Donahue agreed, stretching out the word as he pulled out his notepad. “From what I understand, talking to Mr. Redwood, he’s been acting erratically in school. Missing classes, causing scenes. He told us that Kelly had even skipped class to go to a pool hall and have a few beers.”

  He let the litany hang, waiting. Staring at Jenna now.

  “Is that a question?” she asked.

  “No, just what we’ve been told … Though I would like to hear about the fight.”

  “What fight?” Jenna asked.

  Randal stepped up, scratching his nose. “It seems that him and Cody Redwood had a bit of a … I guess, rivalry happening? There was a fight, just yesterday, during school. Mr. Redwood said he didn’t know what it was about, Cody just said that Kelly’s been acting kind of … off balance. Do either of you know what was going on between them?”

  Jenna shrugged.

  “Patrick?” Donahue asked. “Any ideas?”

  “I’m sure you two know Kelly’s been top dog on the team for a few years now,” Patrick said. “Cody’s about to take his place. He’s very competitive, and players, you know … The closer they get to the end zone, the more they can’t wait to get there.”

  “Don’t you think the opposite would hold true?” Randal asked, a question that seemed better suited for Donahue. His flushed cheeks bunched above his grin. “I mean, Kelly’s about to give up his throne, right? Don’t you think that would be reason for him to try to defend it? Lot of people don’t like to let go.”

  “I don’t know why Kelly would want to hold on to all that, when he’s headed for greater things at Ohio State.”

  “I see you’ve been watching the news,” Randal said, pointing at the muted screen. “Kelly’s walk off at the game last night has become a big story.”

  “Ohio State’s looking a little lean, as far as Kelly’s future is concerned,” Donahue explained.

  “Could you please tell us what this is all about?” Patrick asked, knowing full well that officers were never sent to investigate sports anomalies.

  “There was a break-in at the Redwood house last night,” Randal informed them. He almost seemed unconcerned, as though years of delivering worse news left him with little passion for breaking and entering. “Happened during the game. Got in through a second-story window.”

  “And you think Kelly did it.”

  “As we were saying, him and Cody had a bit of a—”

  “That’s why you think Kelly broke into their place?” Patrick asked, hoping straightforward would do the trick.

  “You know, there’s a lot of false posturing that comes with being a cop,” Donahue said. He sat down on the arm of the easy chair, tucked his notebook away into his jacket. “Did you know that police officer doesn’t even rank among the fifty most dangerous jobs in the United States? Most of them fall to municipal workers. The guys who work the sewers, construction crews. Now that there’s a war going on, you’ve got a better chance of dying simply from being a volunteer…. But the one cliché that’s never going to change is that this job exposes you to the weirdest shit you can imagine. Pardon my French, of course, Mrs. Saint. My point is, we can’t rule anything out, and even though we don’t think it was Kelly, we have to check up on this.”

  “Wait.” Jenna shifted in her seat, sagging between two cushions. “You don’t think it was Kelly?”

  “I don’t think,” Donahue smiled. “That’s what my wife tells me, at least. The fact is, the only things missing from the house were in Mr. Redwood’s safe.”

  Patrick forced all emotion from his face. “What’s that mean?”

  “Well, the point of entry was the window to his office,” Randal piped up, pulling out his notebook and leafing through it. He tilted his head, as though trying to read someone else’s penmanship. “And his safe was cleaned of five thousand dollars … some of his wife’s jewelry … and a folder of paperwork involving past donations to Wellspring Academy.”

  “Granted, the money’s nice,” Donahue added. “But Mr. Redwood’s got a nice safe there. Not top of the line, but close enough. I think it’s a bit far-fetched that Kelly broke in on a revenge kick, then managed to crack the safe…. Especially if Cody’s the one he wanted to hurt.”

  “But that’s not enough to clear him,” Patrick’s father said, keeping his professional opinion to himself. “I mean, you’ve still got a motive, it seems.”

  Donahue sighed. “Yes, we do. And we’re rustling up a warrant to search his car.”

  “And h
is house, I imagine,” Elizabeth added.

  “We didn’t need one.” Randal stood up and stretched. “His parents let us search their house. Just a superficial glance at everything. Kelly didn’t go back there last night. Can I get some water?”

  “Yes …” Elizabeth motioned toward the kitchen. “So wait, his parents just let you—”

  “Frankly, the things that make our life easier sometimes surprise even us,” Donahue sighed, standing up as well. “I just wanted to go over this one more time…. Last night?”

  “Kelly drove us to my house,” Jenna said. “He wanted some time alone, and took off for a while. He came back. We sat around talking …”

  “About?”

  “We graduate in a few weeks,” Jenna told him. “Our lives are a little shaky right now, Detective Donahue.”

  The detective gave an appeasing nod. “Between you and me, I don’t think Kelly did it….”

  “Thank you.” Jenna smiled best she could.

  “Hey, congratulations!” Randal exclaimed, walking back into the living room. He wandered behind the couch and slapped Patrick on the back. “I hear Juilliard’s the place to be if you’re the musical type.”

  Patrick balked. “Huh?”

  “Saw the envelope there on the table. Looks mighty thick for a rejection.”

  “Randal …” Detective Donahue rolled his eyes. “Please tell me you didn’t congratulate—seriously, get his hopes up just based on the envelope.”

  Randal’s cheeks remained flushed. And while there was no way to tell what that meant, he quickly apologized. “Hey, I’m sorry. I’m sure you were probably looking to open it up with your parents.”

  “No,” Patrick said curtly. “No, I actually have no intention of doing that.”

  Donahue and Randal exchanged looks as Patrick stood up. His parents looked mortified that their son would even dream of bringing up family business in front of two strangers, policemen at that.

  “Patrick,” his mother coughed. “I don’t think—”

  “I don’t care,” Patrick told them, stalking toward the kitchen. He was tired of his parents and, once again, felt the time was perfect to have his way with them. He took the letter off the table and strode back into the living room.

  “Look,” Donahue was saying, “we don’t want to keep you-all any longer …”

  “You don’t get to know,” Patrick told his parents, ignoring both detectives. His heart was racing, blood pumping pure anger, fear, and regret. Almost seething as he brandished the envelope in his mother’s face before stuffing it into his jacket. “No matter how much I want to open this right now, I’d rather have you two stuck wondering how you ended up without either of your sons sharing this moment with you.”

  Jenna came to Patrick’s side, a heartbroken cringe tainting her features.

  Patrick’s mother and father remained silent, unable to air their dirty laundry in present company.

  Which was all that Patrick wanted from them at the moment, and he turned to their guests, doing what he could to squeeze out any remaining civility for the sake of an easy exit. “Detective Randal, Donahue, may we please continue this conversation some other time?”

  Donahue nodded appreciatively. “With any luck, we won’t ever have to continue this conversation. We’ll be back to search Kelly’s car, of course, but in the meantime … you and Jenna are free to go.”

  “Thank you,” Patrick managed.

  This was echoed by Jenna as the two of them opened the screen door and stepped outside. It slammed behind them, even as Donahue called out for one last moment of their time.

  “If you see Kelly,” he told them, brown eyes narrowing through the pollen-encrusted mesh, “let him know that if he’s in the clear, then he’s in the clear. And he should think about giving us a ring.”

  Patrick gave him a weak thumbs-up, and headed down the walkway, Jenna by his side. Head throbbing, knees like rubber. Vaguely sensing tears beneath his eyelids as they left the rest to talk about their young, as adults tend to do.

  he rest of the day crept by with a heavy limp. Whenever Patrick glanced at the time, it was either seconds instead of hours or hours in place of seconds. Stop and go, nothing stayed consistent.

  Patrick and Jenna had returned to her house.

  Jenna’s father, Al, was waiting for them in the living room, standing in front of the television as though his team were down twenty points in the last quarter. He nodded at the screen. His daughter joined him, followed by Patrick. The three of them stared down, all a little alarmed to find that Kelly had made the local news.

  Once again, he is only wanted for questioning, though sources within the department have told us that there is concern for his wellbeing Last night, Kelly McDermott, starting quarterback for Wellspring Academy, surprised his teammates, students, and teachers when he abruptly walked off the field in the middle of the national anthem.

  The screen cut to footage of Redwood after the game.

  As for that, we don’t know what happened. Everyone has been worried about him. We have our concerns and suspicions. We don’t want to speculate. We’re just going to have to wait and see … wait for a chance to talk to Kelly McDermott.

  At that point, Al turned off the television, invited them into the kitchen.

  Patrick and Jenna then told him everything about the previous night. Al’s concern never went past justifiable limits. His frowns and interjections were welcomed and reasonable. After all was said and done, Al let them know that he had been asleep when they had “arrived” last night, since eight-fifteen. Whether it was true, or if he was saying it for the benefit of any future questioning, Patrick wasn’t sure.

  “You two should stay here for tonight,” Al advised them. “I’m helping a friend with their house today, so I’ve got to be heading out soon.” He stood up, taking steps toward his room. Stopped at the kitchen door and pointed at the envelope in Patrick’s hand. “You going to open that?”

  Patrick looked down, turned it over in his hands.

  Al sighed. “Well, I think you two did a good thing last night, anyway.”

  That took them through to four in the afternoon.

  And so the minutes lurched forward with a frustrating inaccuracy.

  Patrick tried to pass the time in front of the television, with limited results. He couldn’t stop himself from flipping back to the reports, checking in on the Kelly situation. Sneaking updates that weren’t really updates, just the local news filling time.

  Jenna wandered around the house, looking out the window every now and then.

  Though occasionally remarking on each other’s presence, they hardly interacted.

  It was Jenna who finally suggested they go for a walk.

  “What if Kelly shows up?” Patrick asked glumly.

  “There’s this car down the block,” Jenna said. “I think the cops are keeping a lookout for Kelly. And I think Kelly’s too smart to come here.”

  “Then what are we even waiting for?”

  “We’re not.” Jenna opened the door with an irritated tug. “We’re going for a walk, so stop moping around.”

  Patrick took exception to that, though he could manage little more than a weak sneer. Hoisting himself off the couch, he turned off the television and went to join her. Upon stepping outside, he was surprised to find that dusk had settled. Another one of time’s little tricks. Projecting back three seconds, he was certain the house he’d left had still been awash with that day’s gray, ethereal light. Now the sky was a dull plum color, clouds protruding from the black in ominous billows.

  And now, the hungry rumble of thunder could be heard overhead.

  Patrick threw a quick glance down the block.

  Sure enough, just out of reach of the tangerine streetlights, a single car was parked. Whether or not it was a stakeout would be answered soon enough.

  They walked away from it, eyes on the sidewalk. Sharing slow, contemplative steps, they reached the corner before hearing a car door ope
n, then close.

  “Guess one of them’s following us,” Patrick said.

  “Guess so.”

  They walked in silence, accompanied by further sounds of an eager sky. No words as they rounded the next corner, porch lights turning on as they made their way past flat single-story houses.

  It wasn’t until they’d passed the second corner that the raindrops began to fall, and Jenna finally broke their unspoken vows. “Where do you suppose Kelly is?”

  Patrick held out his hand, feeling for rain with an apathetic shrug. “I don’t know.”

  “He can’t stay hidden forever…. What do you think is going on with what Donahue told us? All that stuff he said was missing from Redwood’s safe, what do you think that was about?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Kelly said he took those steroid pills from Cody’s mattress as insurance. To exchange them in return for not telling, just in case Cody told on him. Do you think Cody hasn’t even looked …”

  “I don’t know, I don’t know,” Patrick snapped, stepping in front of Jenna and facing her. It was audible now, raindrops tearing through the trees, smacking against leaves in a rustling symphony. “Jenna, I don’t know. I don’t know where Kelly is, I don’t know what’s going on, I don’t know what I’m going to do. I’m sorry but I can’t just know what’s next.”

  “Patrick, what …” Jenna took a moment to catch her breath, dragging her hand through her hair, already growing wet with rain. “I don’t expect you to know, I was asking—”

  “Everyone expects me to know!” he shouted. “Everyone’s always talking about the goddamn future like they’re so sure of it!” He felt a few drops splat against his envelope, glanced down.

  Jenna’s supplicating tone shifted, grew demanding. “Is that why you haven’t opened that yet?”

  Moving quickly, Patrick shoved it into the back of his pants.

  “That’s it, right?” Jenna asked, voice loud to compensate for a long stretch of rolling thunder. “You don’t … You know you got in. You know you got in, and you don’t want to open it and find out you have a choice!”