Dakota (Ch 23)

Holt didn't appreciate what had happened. He didn't like this. He wasn't a fan of Donny Kahle calling the shots. Holt didn't like being kept in the dark. He didn't like getting trampled. He was in charge. Kahle needed to know his place.

Holt tried to call Kahle when he arrived and discovered Janie was already gone. He knew it was Kahle. He knew it. It was like a feeling a mother gets when there child is in danger. It was intuitive. He just felt it.

As he drove back to Wessington, he felt the anger building within him. He was going to rip into Kahle. He had had it. It was done. This was all he needed to call Kahle on the carpet. He wouldn't wait any longer.

He punched in the numbers over and over again. There was no response. There was no answer on the other end. Kahle was avoiding him. Kahle had Janie and Holt was afraid of how she might react to Kahle's style of interrogation. She had just come out of rehab. What was he thinking? This wasn't the time. This wasn't the place.

/ / /

I collapsed into the chair, a mass of bones, muscles, and nerves. My mind clouded. A haze fell over my eyes. I stopped feeling. I didn't feel any pain in my arm or side. I stared into space, seeing nothing. Muffled words and sounds filtered through my head. I knew she was still talking, but I heard nothing. There was no coherence in what found its way into my ears and resonated then reverberated back. My senses halted. I couldn't process. I couldn't think. I wanted to respond. I wanted to answer her. I wanted to question her. I wanted answers. But nothing formulated in my mind. Words didn't string together. Sentences didn't form. Thoughts didn't develop. There was nothing in those moments. Was I the father? Was this real? Was this really happening? Or was this just another way for her to get me back? How could this be happening? And why now? Why did she wait so long to tell?

The questions all piled on top of one another. They jumbled together. I couldn't concentrate on one long enough before it collided into a new one. Each brought new concerns. Each brought more confusion.

Her muttering increased. I was beginning to sense her frustration. My world was still enclosed. She wasn't breaking through. I couldn't let her in. I couldn't get out. I felt like I was suffocating. I needed out. I was gasping for air. I was sweating. I was screaming. I felt it. But none of it reached her ears. None of it escaped my head. None of it was real. I was dying in front of her. If she only knew.

My face was suddenly cold. And wet.

"Jake! Jake! Are you alright? Jake!"

She was screaming. She was four inches from my face. She held the empty glass in her hand. It dripped the remains of its contents onto my left thigh.

"Beka. I'm fine. I'm fine. Get off of me."

I pushed her away from me with my good arm. I struggled to push her back. She still lacked control. I didn't understand who she had become. Our separation had messed with her. I never expected it, but it was reality. She had real problems. Maybe it was the hormones of a pregnant woman. But I felt it was much more than that. She needed help. I repositioned myself in the chair.

"Sit back down. You need to explain this to me. You need to explain a lot to me."

"I don't know what's to explain Jake."

She acted as if this was normal. She acted as if I should have expected this bombshell that was the Hiroshima to my world. This was life-changing and yet to her it was nothing.

"Rebekah-I hadn't seen you for months. You've been here a few weeks, but we've never touched, and we certainly haven't been having sex. Explain. Explain to me how this could be possible. You'd have to be due soon..."

"OK, OK. I know it's a little crazy. I know I probably caught you off guard."

"Yeah, Beka, just a little."

I was bitter that she dropped this on me like this. Now. Now that she was being asked to leave. How long had she known? Why was I just finding out about this?

"I'm sorry. I wanted to tell you. I wanted to. I just didn't know how. I didn't know how to start that conversation. You hated me so much. You...hated...me"

She started to cry. I didn't know if I could handle this. There was too much emotion. There was too much to contemplate. There was too much to accept.

"I'm sorry. Rebekah. Look at me."

I placed my hand under her chin and raised it up. Our eyes met. For the first time since that day in September, our eyes met apart from hatred or ill-will.

/ / /

"Just hurry please. I need to tell Jake. I need to warn him. We need to get out of Wessington. We need to go."

"I don't think you should run. We can keep you safe, here. If you run, he'll just chase you. You said it yourself. He has ways of finding things out. He'll follow you. He'll find you. And the police there won't know what's going on. You're best to stay here. We'll get him. We'll be waiting for him. I need to alert the FBI."

"No. No. No."

"Janie, I have to contact the FBI. They can monitor travel records. They can help us. They can provide extra men. They can keep you safe-and Jake."

"I don't know."

"Janie. Every time a problem has stood in your way, you've run the other way. You've never faced them. You need to face this one. It'll haunt you the rest of your life. You've gotta stare it down. And then take it down. You can do this."

She turned and looked deep into his eyes. It was as if she was in a trance. She had gained an intensity.

"You bet you damn ass we are going to take him down. I'm not going anywhere. I want to be there. I'm taking back my life. It starts now."

He flipped the lights on. He was ready for this mission. He still had questions. He didn't understand why Robert Murphy was murdered. He didn't understand everything. But he knew he was on the path that led to the killer. And he knew the killer's name.