The Passenger by Jacqueline Druga (the giving tree read aloud TXT) 📗

“We’re a small town in Nebraska,” answered the chief.

“Nebraska!” Jonas spat with shock. “Why do I feel like I’m not from Nebraska.”

A new voice entered the room and conversation, a man. “Because you’re not,” he said, walking in.

It was another police officer, this one younger.

“Sorry,” the officer said. “I couldn’t resist. I heard him say that. Hey, Dad.” He walked over to the doctor and kissed him on the cheek.

“Dad?” Jonas questioned.

“Donnie,” the doctor said. “Have you been up all night?”

“I have,” he spoke through his exhale of words. “We were able to match the VIN on the burnt car. And we think …” Donnie, the officer looked at Jonas. “We know who you are.” He handed a folder to the chief. “Harold Whitmore. Twenty-nine from Kansas City, Kansas. If you look Chief, five foot nine, brown hair, brown eyes. Look at the driver’s license picture.”

The chief opened the folder. “Hard to say, this license is expired, and the picture has to be six years old.”

“Look at the picture,” Donnie said. “Take away the bruising, swelling and cuts … it’s him.”

The chief lifted his eye above the folder and looked at Jonas. “I suppose you’re right. It is the car. Any trace of a contact, family?”

Donnie nodded. “He has one relative. A grandmother. She’s in Europe now. She said as long as he was fine, she wasn’t coming back for two weeks. She hasn’t really talked to him in months. Harold …” Donnie dropped his voice. “Likes to do his own thing and she said he’s not a nice person.”

“Surprise, Surprise.” The Chief grumbled and handed the folder back to Donnie. “Thank you. And get some rest.”

The doctor looked at Donnie. “Did you run him? Is Harold a killer?”

“If he is, he hasn’t been caught,” Donnie replied. “Not even a ticket.”

“How about that.” Doctor Jenner placed his hand on Jonas. “You’re not a killer. We can undo those restraints.”

“And,” the chief added. “I don’t have to run your prints. Welcome to Williams Peak, Harold. At least that’s one mystery solved.”

Jonas sunk back into his pillow. He didn’t feel any better, any less angry. If the mystery was solved, it couldn’t be proved by Jonas. Maybe it was the head injury or temporary amnesia, but Harold Whitmore from Kansas just didn’t feel right.

EIGHT

Grant ran.

It wasn’t his usual routine on a Sunday morning. Running was an evening thing for him. Typically, he basked in sleeping in late on Sundays. Then getting up and having his coffee, reading the news until Cate came back from church. Grant didn’t do the church thing, never had. It wasn’t his thing. Cate always said she’d get him to one day change his mind. She hadn’t done it in thirty-five years, he didn’t think she would. But their routine never changed. Then they’d go to lunch or shopping. It was a just a laid back day of the week for Grant.

Not on this Sunday.

He was up earlier than he thought, he tossed and turned all night.

After getting dressed and a few swigs of coffee, Grant needed to go for a run. Maybe get a jog in before Cate even woke. She’d be surprised to see him.

The weather was nice. A slight hint of fog had set in, not many people were out. He drove to the park and hit the track. Trying to clear his mind, focus on what he’d do for the day, where they’d do lunch. Avoid admitting that he thought about Jonas.

He swore the last time Jonas had a setback it was the last time he would invest his energy and emotions into worrying. He had spoken to another faculty member at the school and they gave him advice in regard to something called the three C’s.

Cause. Cure. Control.

He didn’t cause Jonas’ problems.

He alone couldn’t cure Jonas’ problem and he certainly couldn’t control them.

Wave after wave, up and down, good and bad, it was enough to drive Grant mad. He didn’t want to care. He wanted to be able to distance himself from it all. He watched what his wife went through, what she did to herself.

It was insane.

Grant went through it all, too. He just was silent about it.

When he woke, admittedly he wanted to pick up his phone or Cate’s to see if Jonas replied to the text. He looked for a missed phone call, one from a number he didn’t know in the middle of the night.

There was none.

That was a good thing.

No news was always good news and he kept telling himself that.

After his run, he went back home, started a pot of coffee and jumped in the shower.

Cate was surprised he was up. Not surprised he wasn’t joining her.

He saw that look on Cate’s face when she checked her phone.

What she showed facially, he felt inside.

“His phone probably died,” Grant told her. “Go to church, when you get back, we’ll call. It’ll be check out time at whatever hotel they stayed at.”

Cate agreed, reluctantly. Although Grant wasn’t sure she wouldn’t try to call Jonas on the way to services.

But Grant was nowhere near as calm and reasonable as he projected. Against what he wanted to do, the moment Cate left, he called their daughter.

“I know you don’t like when we do this to you,” he said to her. “Have you spoken to your brother?”

He heard her make that sigh. The ‘really, are we doing this again?’ sound she so often made.

“No,” she replied. “I mean, He sent a text yesterday he had a gig and was headed to your house.”

“But not after that?” he asked.

“No. Is everything okay?”

“I don’t know. He hasn’t replied to your mom’s texts and when I called it goes straight to voicemail.”

“His phone probably died. I know the gig wasn’t close.”

“That’s what has me worried. And him and I got into it before he left.”

“Why?”

“He was drinking and I wouldn’t give him my truck.”

“I don’t blame you,” she said. “I think he’s fine. Okay? Just being a jerk and making you guys worry.