Graham had been busy. His goal was to be completely independent at his home in the woods. He wanted to generate his own power, have access to his own water and grow most of his food. There were some barriers to being self-sufficient. He liked milk in his coffee and in his oatmeal but he didn’t want a cow. He’d have to make a pen, buy feed, and then wouldn’t he have to get the cow a friend? Another cow to socialize with in cow-speak? A good first step was to make his own power and have a source for water. He was growing oats but the processing part of turning it into edible oatmeal also didn’t seem to be worth it. He’d been having the extras delivered to him once a week, same time (9:00am), same place (the road into town) and this was his day for pick up. He ordered the same items every time and paid the account yearly in advance by sending a cheque through the mail. He didn’t like the outside world but not because he hated people, only because of what being around too many of them did to him.
Sitting at his table, coffee by his hand and an empty bowl of what had been oatmeal in front of him, Graham planned his day. He always had music on in the background and while he planned, he tapped the pencil against the table. The music helped to calm his brain. In this peace, he considered what he needed to do. He wanted to expand the solar array because he wanted to increase the size of his hydroponic garden and for that, he needed more energy. He would need to clear away more land and he was looking forward to the hard work. Nothing made him sleep better at night than pure, physical exhaustion. And, Graham had to admit, there was satisfaction in accomplishing something tangible, something real. Considering the areas on the map of his land he had surveyed, he heard the radio change from music to news but he wasn’t hearing it, it was more of an awareness to the change in sound. A fraction of his concentration on the task list wavered when he heard the name Kaufmann’s Vale. It didn’t draw him out but it did draw him closer to the now, to the present. When he heard the name Detective Jodie Reyes, his one eye turned to the radio, his list forgotten. Listening, his pulse rate increased when the announcer in a grave, serious voice, the same voice Graham had heard him use when talking about anything, like inflation, said Detective Jodie Reyes had been shot and another officer had been stabbed and they didn’t know either officer’s status at this time. The pencil dropped from Graham’s hand with a clink to the table.
. . . . .
Graham used his satellite phone to call Jodie. It rang and rang and his heart tugged on the arteries and veins inside his chest. He’d been clenching his teeth together and one of his teeth bit into his gums. His mouth had been badly damaged after the shooting and because they didn’t line up, in times of stress, like right now, grinding his teeth ended up shredding his gums and filling his mouth with salty blood. He tasted it now and it pissed him off that he’d forgotten that he could no longer clench his teeth. Like in so many ways, he was different, a freak now, and normal no longer applied to him. And why wasn’t she answering? How hurt was she? They didn’t know on the radio? Really? A cop getting shot was big news. Either they knew and weren’t saying, or they didn’t know because no one was telling them. Graham knew why, sometimes, the police didn’t share all their information. When someone was killed, it was in poor taste to broadcast it on the news before the family had been notified. Is that what they were doing? Trying to get a hold of Jodie’s parents first? He clenched his jaw again. Pain lanced through his jaw up to his eye. He spat the blood from his mouth into the sink. A red octopus shape on the stainless steel. Why wasn’t she answering? A headache was growing behind his eye. He knew the feeling. If it grew it could put him down for the rest of the day and leave him whimpering in a dark room with a cool cloth on his head. No. That can’t happen. He needed to get control of his anger. Right now, it burned hungrily, taking all of Graham’s worry and compressing it tighter and tighter and waiting for enough fuel to explode. And all the time, the damn phone rang in his ear. Click. Jodie’s voice greeted him cheerfully and encouraged him to leave a message. He disconnected and white-knuckled the phone in his fist. He inhaled until his lungs filled and he expelled the air for a count of five. He repeated the action until his head cleared and the rage waves stopped rippling and Graham was left with a clear, placid mind. It had taken some time for the anger to fade, but it did and now he could think. What to do now? He had to go to her. But how to get there? There was no way he was hanging around here, waiting, not knowing. What would he do? Go back to working on the solar panels? Even that wouldn’t still the fears swimming along the surface.
He paced in the kitchen, considered calling his mom, see if she would drive him but being in a car with her for that long, well, that would be a challenge to his patience. She was great in small doses. A long car ride was not a small dose.
Graham lifted the phone and with his thumb ready to depress the redial button, it buzzed and rang in his hand.
“Hello?”
“Hey, Graham.”
“Jodie? Ah, man.” His voice trembled, “It’s good to hear from you. The radio said they didn’t know how bad you were injured and I didn’t know who else to call.”
“Graham.”
“Yes?”
“They killed him, they stabbed him and left him in a parking lot to die and…” her crying filled his ear. He ground his jaw. More blood filled his mouth. His hand was so tight on the phone, he could feel the muscles beginning to cramp.
She rambled in between cries, “There was no reason to do it…not that I could see, we weren’t close to anyone, he was a good guy…Kelly, really funny and nice and he liked people, wanted to help them. So different from the other cops who want the good pay and pension and could give a shit if they help anyone…I don’t know what to do, I don’t know where to start-”
“Jodie?”
“Thank God I don’t have to talk to his parents or do you think I should? I don’t-”
“Jodie?”
“Graham, I’m so glad you called, I was going to call you, they have me on painkillers here and I thought I was going to pass out, and maybe I did, what time is it? Doesn’t matter. I got off easy. Couple of stitches in my left hand and along my rib cage, not like Kelly, stabbed in the chest and goddamnit! We must have been close or else why would they do this? I’m not thinking straight. Greg. He’s something. I don’t know what, but he’s something. Would he-”
“Jodie. I’m coming. I’ll be on my way soon. We’ll get them.”
“When do you think the funeral will be? Wait-what? You’re coming?”
“Yes.”
Graham heard Jodie’s voice sober immediately. This was detective Jodie on the phone now.
“Graham. I don’t know what it is that you do or how you do it, but can you stop this? Like you did with Francine?”
“Yes. I think I can.”
“But it will hurt you, won’t it? A lot? I know you never told me, how you do it, but I get that it hurts, right?”
“Yes.”
“Will, whatever it is that you do, will it, could it, kill you?”
“I don’t know. Maybe.”
She said, “I don’t want you to be in pain, Graham.” She didn’t tell him not to come. She wanted him there but she also didn’t want him there. She was worried about Graham but a girl was still missing. There were three people dead, including a cop, and Jodie could have been killed too. He had to go. They both knew it and because of the knowledge, they also knew how much their friendship meant to each other. Looked like Graham would be calling his mom after all.
“I know.”
“See you soon.”
“Yeah.”