Free Already Gone by John Rector

it.”
    Nolan looks at me. “What?”
    “This is my fault, and I could’ve stopped it.”
    “There wasn’t anything you could’ve done.”
    “When they sent my finger back in that package, I could’ve ended it right then, but I didn’t.”
    Nolan hesitates. “I’m not following.”
    “One phone call and it would’ve been over. Diane would still be alive.”
    “You don’t know that.”
    “Oh, yes I do.”
    Nolan is quiet for a moment, then he says, “I think you should stop before you say anything else.”
    “I’m just thinking out loud.”
    “Okay, but there are some things I can’t pretend I didn’t hear. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
    I tell him I do, and for the rest of the trip neither of us says a word.

     
    When we get to my house, Nolan pulls into the driveway. He reaches into his pocket and takes out his card and writes a number on the back.
    “My private cell phone.” He holds the card out to me. “If you need to get in touch, call me directly.”
    I stare at the card, but I don’t take it.
    “Since when are you on my side?”
    “There are no sides, Jake. I’m trying to help.”
    I almost laugh, but I manage to hold it back. “Sure.” I take the card. “I’ll call you.”
    He knows I’m lying, but I don’t care.
    From now on, I’m done with the police.
    I get out and walk up the driveway to the front door. I watch Nolan pull away, then I turn and sit on the porch steps. I’m not ready to go inside, so for a while all I do is stare out at the dark street and listen to the dying October leaves rustle in the breeze.
    Once I think I’m ready, I stand up and go inside. I don’t turn on any lights, and I don’t look around. Instead, I head straight for the kitchen and take a glass from the cabinet.
    I open the Johnnie Walker bottle and pour.
    When I finish the first, I pour another.
    This time, I don’t drink.
    I stare at the clean, amber liquid and the light from above the stove reflecting off the surface. I can taste the first drink in the back of my throat, and something inside me clicks. I put the glass to my lips and finish it, then decide it’ll be my last.
    I’ve had enough.
    I pick up the Johnnie Walker bottle and empty it into the sink. When I find the person behind everything that’s happened, I want to meet him with a clear head.
    No more running.
    I drop the bottle in the trash, then grab the phone and walk down the hall to my office. My address book is in the top drawer of my desk. I search the pages until I find Gabby’s number, then I sit down and dial.
    It starts to ring.
    I look up at the clock on the wall above my desk.
    It’s past midnight.
    Late.
    The phone keeps ringing.
    I rest my elbows on the top of my desk and listen to the familiar voice in the back of my mind telling me this is a bad idea.
    This time, it’s easy to ignore.
    The phone rings again. I wait for an answering machine to pick up, but it never does.
    Hard to tell if I’m relieved or disappointed.
    I hit the disconnect button, and the line goes dead.
    I take it as a sign and decide to sleep on it before making this kind of decision. The idea of being able to sleep is ridiculous, but at least it sounds good.
    I drop my address book back in the drawer, then shut off the light. I’m halfway to the kitchen when the phone rings. The sound echoes through the empty house.
    My hand is shaking as I lift the receiver, but when I speak, my voice is steady.
    The man on the other end asks, “Who is this?”
    I close my eyes.
    He was screening his calls.
    Of course, he was screening his calls.
    He asks again.
    This time I answer. “It’s Jake Reese.”
    Silence for a moment, then a short laugh.
    “Well, what do you know,” Gabby says. “I was starting to think you were dead.”

 

PART II

– 15 –
     
    My desk at work is covered with unread literary journals and ungraded student papers. I push them aside to clear space then take Lisa’s card from my pocket and pick up the phone.
    I