Sometimes, the memory of seeing the curtains go up in flames will pop into my head, no reason why really. Maybe it's because the memory wants to make it clear that it isn't planning to leave anytime soon.
When I was a boy there was a tree right outside my window and the bark always looked like it was rotting. It was that tree I jumped to when the fire started.
And it was that tree I climbed down as the flames spread out through the window up above.
My father was police. Good police too I might add, a well respected officer of the Seattle police force. He'd come home at odd hours, I was never sure when. He'd slip into our apartment without a sound and when I was younger I believed my father could walk through walls.
My father's last memory was of the fire.
Seattle, Washington
2004
A young girl was about to run into the street, and John nudged his partner, Brian Hennessey to press the brakes. The gray sedan bucked and did a slight skid before coming to a stop, but the girl was already backing up onto the sidewalk. The look of disbelief was still sealed on her face as she watched them drive past her.
"Crissakes," said Hennessey, and slammed a palm down on top of the steering wheel. "You'd think she'd never seen a fuckin' car before. Next time I should run over her foot. That'll scare her straight."
"She didn't look older than nine," John said, and he looked into the mirror on the passenger side door and tried to see what had made the girl dart into the street. Her eyes were still staring at the car as they turned the corner onto Child Street.
"Nine? Why the fuck isn't she in school then?"
"You a truant officer now?"
Hennessey mumbled something under his breath and John said, "It's Columbus Day. School's probably closed."
Hennessey ran his fingers up his shrinking hairline and into his hair. After a moment he started to whistle the little tune he always did -- the one he claimed was a real song, but could never quite place what song it really was.
"Why so jumpy? You sleep alright last night?"
"Slept fine. A nice, black sleep just the way I like it."
John nodded. Hennessey was lying, and Hennessey knew that John knew he was lying. Hennessey had a daughter. A daughter he didn't know he had until a few years ago. A daughter that didn't care to see him. So, he spent his nights parked outside a duplex she rented with an old college roommate.
"Hey, slow down. I think it's this green building right down there."
"You sure? I thought our guy said it was cyan."
"Almost positive he didn't say that, but hell, it's close enough for me."
"No way. If he said cyan we'd be looking for a brown building."
"Cyan isn't brown. Good thing you don't need to pass eighth grade art to make detective."
"Fuck you."
Hennessey wheeled the sedan across the street from a green three-decker that looked like it was developing a slouch. As John climbed out he eyed the building next to the sidewalk where they parked. A sign hung in the window that said VCR Repair and someone had smashed the electronic sign about it.
"I thought Georgetown was supposed to be having some kind of resurgence," Hennessey asked doing a deep inhale. "Smells like shit out here."
The air did smell, like something had spoiled. There was a cold bite to it as well. The sky overhead was the color of slate, and the sun seemed to be hiding out just behind the buildings on the horizon. John looked west and just off in the distance he could make out the space needle.
It'd been awhile since he'd been as far down as Georgetown. If people were getting killed down here no one was in a rush to call it in. North of the neighborhood townhouses were being constructed. Further down, people were being mugged for a Powerball ticket.
John did a subtle pat on his jacket, like he was checking for a cell phone or his keys, and felt the friendly reminder that his Beretta was in its holster.
"And we're sure he's home this time?"
"As sure as we're going to be at this point."
They crossed the street behind a black Buick that took its time to ease on by them. Then, it sped off down the road running a stop sign, the driver probably making them for cops. Next to the green three-decker was an overgrown yard of rotting weeds. A black man in a gray sweatshirt and a Mariners cap was watching his Doberman take a leak.
“Ah, smells just like home,” Hennessey said as they stepped into the small lobby and then into the first floor of the building. John had been in enough inner-city three-deckers to recognize the smell of sun-baked wood, old paint, kitty litter and cigarette smoke
“3B,” Hennessy called over his shoulder as they started up the stairs with a railing that looked like it was ready to crumble away.
The hallway up on the third floor was quiet, almost seemed removed from the rest of the building compared to the pulsing bass that had been swallowing up the second floor.
3B was the second door in on the right hand side.
Hennessey gave a crack of his knuckles then knocked.
John heard someone yell to someone else to turn the TV down, followed by the dragging of the deadbolt chain. A blonde with dark roots and raw eyes opened the door a crack.
“Yeah?” she asked in a voice that was almost as raw as her eyes.
“How you doing today, ma’am. I’m Detective Hennessy, this is my partner Detective Raide. We were just wondering if your boyfriend Louiz was home?”
The blonde put a hand to her eye and held it there and then let it fall down her face.
“Louiz ain’t my boyfriend. We broke up.”
"Is he here?"
The blonde shook her head.
"He's not in any trouble. We just want to ask him a few questions. Would it be okay if we came in?"
"I told you he wasn't here."
“We heard you,” Hennessey said, “but maybe you could talk to us a bit, tell us about your ex-boyfriend.”
“My daughter is here,” the blonde said. “I don’t want her seeing me get arrested again.”
"No one is going to arrest you. Just a few questions and we're gone."
The blonde thought on it for a moment, and then opened the door and the two detectives entered the living room. John surveyed the mess of toys, clothes (both adult and toddler) and other things that looked like they had been dropped and forgotten about.
The blonde took a seat back on the couch. The room was dark due to the blinds being drawn; the only light came from the TV where some hypnotic sing-along was taking place.
“A little light never killed anyone,” Hennessey mumbled but John didn’t know who it was directed at. He was too busy watching the little blonde girl, in just a diaper and a t-shirt smacking her greasy hands onto the TV screen.
"What's her name?"
The blonde on the couch looked up at John like he had asked her who the twenty second president of the United States was.
"Your daughter? Her name?"
"Mindy," the blonde said.
"And you're Jenna, right?" asked Hennessey.
"That's me," she replied and reached for a tall glass on the end table that was filled to the brim.
"It ain't booze," Jenna said squinting over. "I don't drink in front of my daughter."
"My mistake."
John felt a tug on his pant leg and looked down at the little girl. She was staring up at him with big glassy blue eyes and he saw that something purple and sticky was crusted in the corners of her mouth.
“You seen my doll?” she asked. “She’s missing.”
"Afraid not. But, I'm a detective, so I'll keep an eye out for her."
Mindy brushed past him and around Hennessey who asked,"When was the last time you saw Louiz or that he was here?"
Jenna let out a long sigh and tilted her head back to think. "Don't know. September eleventh I think."
"You know the exact date?"
“Aw, he was all upset because he had to go to work and was bitchin' about how they should be closed, like he even cares, he’s just lazy. He’d have gone out with his friends and gotten stoned all day and then he’d come back here asking for some money to get something to eat.”
“Do you know where he is now?” Hennessy asked.
Jenna didn’t answer. John followed her eyes to a hallway that was off the living room. A door was open at the end, but just slightly, and John thought it looked like it was fluttering with movement. It was swaying, ever so gently, like a breeze from an open window was poking it for fun.
He looked over at Hennessey who was still trying to get a coherent response from Jenna, so he took that as a cue to take a quick step into the hallway.
“Hey, where’s he going?” he heard Jenna ask behind him, but he was already to the door.
“John…?” Hennessey called, but John didn’t answer the man, instead he found himself staring across a disheveled bed and up into the eyes of Louiz Montoya.
Louiz was all long arms and long legs with a slender frame. John knew that Louiz’s name in high school had been ‘Daddy Long Legs’. John also knew that Louiz’ build helped him grab rebounds off the smaller guards when Louiz played off-guard at the University of Washington back before he was suspended from the team.
John’s eyes went from the gun in Louiz’ hand pointing at his chest to the bundle cradled in his right arm like a football, it was wrapped in a pink blanket.
"Hey, Louiz. How you doing?
Hennessey was making his way down the hall and at the sound of the name Louiz, was putting a hand to his weapon under his jacket. John stood in the doorway and raised a hand of his own to let Hennessy know to stand down.
“Whaddaya doin here, man?” Louiz asked. “I told you not to come back here.”
“We just came for talk. That’s all, so how about you give the baby back to Jenna out here and —”
“Hey man, you ain’t making me do shit, homey.”
“Baby? Jesus Christ…” Hennessey muttered back in the hall followed by Jenna asking what was happening. Given the circumstances Louiz was holding it together pretty well, the gun never wavered in his hand.
“Tell ya what Im’a do,” Louiz said. “I’m going to climb out this here window and down the fire escape and you and whoever the fuck else you got out there in my apartment are just going to sit tight long as I got ‘dis here baby under my arm. Y’all got me?”
“We got you, Louiz."
“Then we cool.”
The gun hand stayed steady as Louiz made for the window that was already opened, probably, John guessed, just before him and Hennessey got there. With the sole of his sneaker, the other man kicked the screen out, ducked under the window, and crawled out onto the rusted landing of the fire escape.
John watched as Louiz backed slowly away from the window and he could hear the metal groaning under the weight moving down the staircase.
He counted three beats off in his head and yelled to Hennessey in the hallway. “He’s running — you go back the way we came I’m going down the fire escape.”
“Oh fuck,” Hennessey said and brushed past Jenna who had moved into the hallway to see what was going on.
“What happened? Where’s Louiz?” she asked.
Neither Hennessey nor John bothered to answer.
Once out onto the landing of the fire escape, John glanced down to the alley that ran next to the three-decker. Louiz had just reached the bottom, and was already into a dead run.
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