56

 

 

Browne’s Addition was an eclectic neighborhood. Old houses sub-divided into apartments like mine sat next to well cared for two bedroom homes that may be inhabited by elderly couples or young families alike. Some blocks were lucky enough to avoid having the scourge of a rental property occupied by a series of people whose sins ran the gamut from not caring about their yard to selling drugs.

In the midst of all of that were a few businesses. A small grocery store stood on the edge of the neighborhood, perched on the corner of two arterials. Deeper in, a couple of trendy pubs directly across the street from each other battled for customers. A surprisingly upscale restaurant was nestled at the end of a block near the park.

The thing that always struck me was how active the neighborhood was. People were almost always out and about. People walked their dogs, sometimes to the park, which had a corner reserved for them. They walked or biked past me on their way to whatever their destination was. Unless weather prohibited it, the front porch seemed to be the place most people liked to relax. On the way to the park, I waved to several faces I recognized. Some waved back. We didn’t know each other’s names. Some didn’t wave, and I wondered if those were the ones who’d watched the news last night.

By the time I reached the park, my knee was aching. My gait had slowed considerably and devolved into a limp. I stood at the edge of the park and surveyed the scene, before making for the open gazebo in the middle of the park. The structure was the color of natural wood, stained instead of painted. When I reached it, I settled onto the wooden seat, letting out a long sigh as the weight came off my knee. I flexed it again, gazing out over the green expanse. A couple of men sat on a blanket, having a picnic about forty yards away. On the other side of the park, a young kid threw a ball for his dog. A woman sat on a bench near them, reading a book. Other than that, I was alone.

That’s fitting, I thought. Because that’s exactly how I feel.

I let that feeling wash over me. I knew enough about bad feelings to know that the only way out of that dark forest was through it. So I embraced it. I thought about Clell leaving town without telling me why, and I felt stupid for how that made me feel. He had his own life, and whatever he had to do in North Dakota was his own business. It was ridiculous for me to feel somehow abandoned by it.

But I did, a little.

Adam was the same way. I should never have pressed him for information like I did. He had a family to think about, and a career. I hoped the damage I did wasn’t permanent.

Harrity was the one I should have cared about the least, but somehow that wasn’t the case. I understood why he put some distance between us. It was purely a business decision, and given how smart the guy was, it was probably the right one. But it still stung, strangely.

I felt alone.

I closed my eyes and leaned my head back. The weak sunlight touched my cheeks. My thoughts drifted around without direction, touching on Adam, then Clell, Harrity, or Marie Brassart. I wondered what was next for her case, and if it would still go to trial.

The sun was warm, the park sounds soft and quiet. I dozed off several times, my head dropping backward and startling me awake gently. I soaked in the tranquility around me, let it push back at the feelings of loss and loneliness inside me.

I don’t know how long I sat there. The slight breeze ruffled the limbs of the trees nearby. The dog chasing a ball barked every once in a while, a happy sound. I could sense a gradual lightening of the mood, one small moment at a time. I liked the park for that. It almost always made me feel better.

Until I heard the unmistakable rack of a shotgun.