Ghost of a Chance: Redemption

Chapter Two

Darrin Kingfisher brushed his lanky brown hair from eyes and squinted through his bug-splattered windshield, toward the dark green thicket immediately ahead of him.  He turned off the ignition, interrupting Tom Petty in the middle of “You Don’t Know How It Feels.”  Yes, I do, Tom.  I know exactly how it feels.  He opened the driver’s door quietly and eased it shut, not wanting to spook whatever creature he had just spotted in the forest.   Talking to Teddi was too distracting when he was trying to concentrate on identifying the source of the movement forty yards farther on, deep in the mountain laurel bushes.  The floating image of her smiling face, her dancing hair, appeared before his eyes every time he thought of her.  Having her return to Amosville, he knew, would again put pressure on him to finally tell her how he felt about her, and most of the time, he wasn’t sure himself.  

Concentrate, he admonished himself.  He reached in through his open window, slipping his hand around the small video camera he kept with him at all times, with fully charged batteries and a brand new video card.  Since meeting Timothy Peach the night of Jenny’s death, Darrin had determined to be prepared for whatever happened, for any encounter.  He spent his days working at a struggling, artsy movie house in the a nearby city, but his evenings, weekends, and many nights were spent in the field, searching.  

“All right,” he muttered, “come on out, baby.  You know you’re in there.”  Darrin eased himself through a thicket, pausing to move briars off his shoulders, arms, and legs, all the while keeping the camera running and pointed ahead.  Occasionally he ducked his head to check the small screen still displayed what he was looking at.  A few gnats buzzed past his face, but he forced himself into a zen-like state and ignored them.  The black patch he had noticed from the Jeep was just ahead, and although he kept the camera on it, he was beginning to feel some surprise that the creature had not moved.  He knew he had not entered the woods silently.  He stopped and turned the zoom wheel with his thumb, bringing the image closer, and paused while the small camera focused.  He smelled something, something familiar and strong.  

The black was not animal fur.  It was cloth, some sort of material.  Darrin considered stopping the camera, but decided not to do so.  Instead, he crept closer, holding his breath at each step before exhaling silently and inhaling through clenched teeth.  He recognized the odor as coffee; and the cloth as a suit jacket; his heart jolted and his throat burned bitter at the voice he heard next.

“Mr. Kingfisher.  We meet again.”

Darrin lowered the camera, and quickly brought it up again.  “I recognize your voice, Agent Skelton.  I should have known you would come skulking back, sooner or later.  What do you want?  This isn’t posted ground.  I know my rights.”

Steve Skelton stepped out of the shadow of the tree.  “Easy, cowboy.  We’re on the same side.”

Darrin felt tension fill his spine, and course through his shoulder blades and spill down his arms into his fingertips.  He squeezed his small camera.  “I don’t think so.  No, Parker and Marne are both on your side.”

Steve glanced around, brushed some debris from a fallen tree, and sat down, balancing a styrofoam cup of coffee at his side.  He sighed.  “Mr. Kingfisher  Hear me out.  Parker is a rogue.  I think you know that.”

Darrin considered the request.  Although Skelton had arrived in Amosville with Dominic Parker four months ago, both of the them working for the Federal Information Processing Agency, Skelton had disappeared before the tragedy at the quarry.  

“What about Marne?”

Steve leaned forward to retrieve his coffee.  His voice was quiet.  “I don’t know.”  He lifted up his hands in mock surrender when Darrin snorted.  “Hey.  I was Parker’s partner.  I thought I knew him.  He played us all.  But Marne...different story.  I just don’t know.”  He sipped his coffee.  “But he’s dead, so it doesn’t matter, anyway.”

“And you know that’s not true.”

“Not true?  It certainly is true, my friend.  That was his body they pulled out of Parker’s car.”

“I know that, Agent Skelton.  But I remember him, and you know what that means.”

Steve swallowed more coffee, and Darrin knew he was weighing his words carefully.

“All right, yes, I know.  He’s still here, somewhere, drifting around.  But he can’t do anything but talk, right?  Isn’t that the way it works?”

Darrin squatted down.  Despite himself, he felt himself warming to the topic.  “Are you still with FIPA?”

“Would I be dressed like this if I wasn’t?”  Steve motioned downward.

Darrin nodded, taking in the suit jacket, dark pants, and tie.  “How about some ID?”

“Right.”  Steve reached into his jacket pocket and produced a laminated ID card; Darrin examined it and handed it back.  

Darrin turned off the camera with a grand motion, wanting Steve to know it was off.  “So what exactly are you doing, skulking in the woods?  Around here, that’s liable to get you shot.”

Steve emptied his coffee cup.  “I suppose I could say I was waiting for you.  I was, in a way.”  He tapped his empty cup between his hands, then rolled it back and forth, watching its progress without looking up.  Darrin waited.  “This whole case has bothered me,” Steve said.  “I was asked to do things that made me feel pretty uncomfortable afterward.  I have a wife and some kids, you know.”

“I didn’t.”

“Well, no, you couldn’t know, I guess.  But I do.  When I go home, I’m just a husband and a dad.  Maybe not even a very good one.  But this case has been bugging me.  I’ve never had a situation that wound up with an innocent person getting killed.”

Darrin snorted.  “Sorry you feel bad, but I don’t think you’re going to find anyone around here willing to throw you or FIPA a pity party.”

Steve’s head drooped.  “I’m not here for FIPA, exactly.  I’m on leave.”

“Then what do you want?”

“I want to find Jenny Myers.  I want to tell her I’m sorry for any part I had in her death.”