Free Shadow of the Past by Thacher Cleveland

now.”
    “Really?” Mark said. “In those pictures
everyone looks so happy and, well, normal.”
    “Oh Jesus! My folks
are not normal. My
folks wouldn’t know normal if it jumped up and bit them on the ass.
My dad’s a total workaholic freak and my mom is just obsessed with
making sure everything looks okay and in its right place. They’re
the anti-normal.”
    “Well, I guess it beats the
alternative.”
    “I dunno. Ever since Ryan moved out my
folks have just been all over me, but with the move and everything
done it’ll be nice to just slow down and just let everything
settle.”
    “That’s cool,” he said. “Slow is
good.”
    “Well,” she grinned, shifting up to
kiss him. “Not that good.”

    After exhausting themselves with an
hour of kissing and over-the-clothes groping they just leaned back
against the tree, arms and legs intertwined and enjoying the crisp
fall air.
    “I should be getting back soon,” she
said. “The last thing I want is my dad getting on your case
again.”
    Mark grinned. “For this, he can get on
my case all he wants.”
    She reached up and took a leaf out of
his hair. “You’re sweet.”
    “Really?”
    Her fingers left his hair and softly
traced a line from his cheek to his chin. “Yes, Mark. You’re very
sweet. I can’t remember if I’ve met a guy who’s been sweeter.
You’re kind, you’re caring, you’re considerate. . .”
    He chuckled. “What am I, a Cub Scout?
Next you’ll say I’m loyal and honest.”
    “Oh, you’re those too, I’m sure, but I
don’t think you realize how rare that is.”
    “Are we going to get disgusting
boyfriend/girlfriend names now?” he asked, kissing her
fingertip.
    “Well, we’ll have to play it by ear.
Have to give it some time to find the really disgusting
ones.”
     
    Mark dropped her off after she made
sure neither of them had too many dirt or grass stains on their
backs. “Trust me,” she’d said, “they’re a dead giveaway.” At the
head of the driveway she gave him a quick kiss on the cheek and a
whispered promise to call later.
    He spent the ride home trying not to
think of the small mound of homework that had piled up over the
weekend as he’d lost himself to the sheer awesomeness that was
teenage make-outs. He was so into reliving his PG sex-life that he
didn’t notice the car parked in front of the house as he pulled
into the driveway. He locked the V up in the garage and happily
dashed to the back door, taking all three steps in one big
jump.
    He was two strides into the kitchen
before he saw Joe sitting at the kitchen table, clutching a coffee
mug in both hands and glaring at a man in a suit sitting across the
table from him. The smart remark Mark was going to make about them
never having company was cut off when he noticed the badge hanging
from the man’s lapel pocket.
    “Mark,” Joe said, very evenly, putting
down his cup of coffee, “This is David Prescott. With the cops. I
think you should have a seat.”
     
    Mark sat and listened, but it became
more difficult the more that Detective Prescott talked. Mark’s gaze
dropped to his suddenly lifeless hands on the table as the
Detective used words like “fire” and “death.” The Detective asked
Mark about the party that night and if that was the last time he’d
spoken to Clara.
    “Party?” Mark mumbled. Everything was
quicksand, words and thoughts sinking into the nothingness in his
chest. Why would there be a party?
    “The delivery guy from the Chinese
place next door said he dropped some food off at the shop after
hours and that there were a couple of other people in there. Alvin,
the delivery guy, said he recognized you, that you were at Clara’s
a lot.”
    “Yeah, he hung out there,” Joe said,
wringing his hands on the coffee mug.
    Mark nodded in agreement. Everything
was graying back out again. Yes, he hung out there. He was supposed
to keep hanging out there. It was his place. Mark’s vision was
blurring and his pulse was roaring