Taryn – Day twenty-five

After waking up at 6:50 a.m. to an empty bed, I was worried that something terrible had happened. Frantic, I ran to the garage. I pushed the door open, hoping his car was home, and he was on his morning run. My heart sank into the pit of my stomach when I saw that his car was gone.

Please, not again.

I walked into the living room and began to look for the television’s remote. I’d never seen him use the T.V., and wondered if it even worked. After a frantic search, I found it in one of the many drawers of his console.

I turned on the television just in time to see the start of Channel 10’s news. The label at the bottom of the broadcast was exactly what I didn’t want to see.

The screen was split in two, with a man on one side, and a woman on the other. The man was obviously at the television station, and the woman was standing in front of a large crowd of reporters who were gathered outside the San Diego County Sheriff’s Office.

As they lobbed questions back and forth, my stomach began to do flip-flops.

“Mary, what do we know about this extremely terrifying and troubling case?”

“At this time, John, we know very little. We have been assured, however, that the man in charge of the San Diego Sheriff’s Office Gang Task Force will be with us any moment now for a briefing.”

“Mary, what can you tell us about the hostages?”

“It’s our understanding, John, that they were not hostages. Initial reports were inaccurate in that respect. We have confirmed that the nine females who were rushed to Mercy Hospital were all teenagers who had been reported as being abducted in the last two weeks. We’re happy to report that thanks to the detective in charge of the case, the families have all been reunited with their loved ones.”

“Mary, do we know the name of the detective?”

“John, the detective, for now, is unnamed. We’ve been advised that it’s the department’s policy to not name or show the faces of detectives in charge of such investigations when gangs are involved. Fear, they tell us, of repercussions prevent them from naming the men who work so diligently to maintain our safety.”

“Silent heroes.”

“That is correct, John.”

“Mary, it’s our understanding that there were several men taken from the home that was raided to the District Medical Examiner. Were men killed in this raid?”

“John, we have early counts of five men being killed in this operation, but that has not been confirmed.”

I felt like I was going to throw up. I had no idea what the pecking order was where Marc worked, and wondered if he might be the detective in charge, or if he was one of the bodies at the coroner.

“John, we’ve got to break to the briefing. Captain Sprague is approaching the podium now.”

The camera panned to the podium. A man dressed in a navy police uniform covered in medals leaned over the microphone and cleared his throat.

“I will take a few questions following this briefing.” He picked up a sheet of paper and began to read his statement. “At approximately zero-two-fifty-six this morning, a Gang Task Force Detective was acting on information received from a confidential informant. In doing so, he observed who he believed to be gang members approaching a residence on the city’s east side. The detective’s knowledge of the neighborhood led him to believe the residence was being utilized a gang drug house. The detective’s surveillance confirmed his suspicions. However, due to vandals stripping his issued vehicle of the radio, he was unable to call for backup. Acting alone, and with little concern for his own safety, the detective entered the residence. Upon entering, he encountered five adult males, all of which have been listed as deceased. He then located nine teenage females who were being held in the residence. The females have been identified as the nine teenagers that had previously been reported as missing, all in the last two weeks. The five deceased males have been identified as members of the La Mara Salvatrucha gang. Roughly $273,000, three kilos of cocaine, and two kilos of heroin were seized in this operation.”

He lowered the paper. “That’s all I have. I’ll take three questions.”

A reporter’s hand shot into the air. The Captain pointed at him. “You, go ahead.”

“Can we have the name of the detective in charge of the--”

“You may not. Next question.”

He pointed at someone else. “I’ll take yours.”

“Captain Sprague. Did the detective singlehandedly shoot all five members of the--”

“I’m sorry, I cannot release that information. Next question.”

He pointed at the next person. “You. Go ahead.”

“What is the condition of the nine teenage girls? Were they harmed?”

“Finally, question I can answer. The females were suffering from malnutrition and dehydration. It is our understanding that all of them are expected to recover swiftly and fully. I’m sorry, ladies and gentlemen, but that’s all I have time for.”

As he stepped away from the podium, I noticed that a man was being rushed out of the building behind him by two uniformed officers. A navy trench coat was draped over his head to hide his identity. From the bottom of the coat, black pants protruded. My heart raced.

I rushed to the television for a closer look.

When he was helped into the SUV, I saw his boots.

One of which had a white scuff mark.

I choked on the wad of emotion that rushed through me. As the tears began to well in my eyes, I realized just how much Marc had come to mean to me. How proud I was of the man he so humbly attempted to hide.

Grateful that he was alive, I kissed the tip of my index finger and placed it against the television screen.

* * *

I let out a sigh of relief as he came through the door. Carrying the same items he had left with, he nonchalantly walked into the living room, looked at me, and paused. His eyes were tired and his face was covered in stubble.

He lowered everything to the floor. “Sorry I’m late,” he said, his voice raspy and tired. “I got tied up on an investigation.”

I wanted to run to him, hug him, and tell him how proud I was of what he’d done and who he was. Instead, I acted like I knew nothing. “Did everything go okay?”

“Great,” he said with a mock smile. “It was just a long night.”

I raised my eyebrows. “Do you want something to eat?”

He glanced around the living room as if everything in it was new to him. I wondered just what was going through his mind, and how long it would take him to recover from what he’d seen and done.

He met my gaze. “No, thank you. I haven’t got much of an appetite yet.”

I stood. “You’re probably tired. Want to take a nap? I can go sit at the pool while you sleep.”

He raked his fingers through his short hair, and then looked at his hands. “Have you showered yet?”

I couldn’t help but smile. “No.”

“Let’s take a shower.”

I giggled. “If you insist.”

He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his palms and then lowered his hands. “How many days do we have left?”

“Five.”

He reached for his things. “They’ll be the longest five days of my life.”

I followed him toward the bedroom, wondering whether his comment was a good thing or a bad thing. I hoped good, but then decided to simply agree. “Ditto. Longest five days of mine, too.”

I was pleased to see the shower in his master bedroom was a very large walk-in. Without speaking, we got in, and he turned on the water. As it cascaded down onto us, we silently admired each other.

On that day, there were no blowjobs or groping, nor did I want there to be. As he washed the drug dealer’s filth from his skin, I reluctantly washed his scent from mine.

Without being prompted, he washed my back with his hands, gently rubbing every inch of my body with the tips of his fingers. After I rinsed, I did the same to him, paying special attention to his shoulders.

I stood on my tiptoes and rested my chin against his upper back. “You’re tense,” I whispered.

“Let’s take that nap,” he said. “Eat later?”

I wasn’t tired at all. The thought of resting my head on his chest while he slept gave me chill bumps.

“Sounds perfect.”

After we dried off, he pressed the button on the wall and opened the blinds. I watched the waves wash ashore for a few seconds, and then turned toward him.

He climbed under the blankets, naked.

I did the same.

He slipped his arm under my shoulders. I laid my head on his chest and nestled against him. I closed my eyes at the feeling of his warm body against mine. In a few minutes, his breathing became shallow.

I lifted my head and looked at him. He was fast asleep.

I stayed awake for some time, alternating my looks of admiration between him and the beach. Grateful for what my life had become, I closed my eyes and said a prayer.

I have no idea what’s best for me, but I know you do. All I ask is that you let me find a way to accept your will.

Then, I fell asleep.