Murderer

Chapter 19: Brendon

The walk to the library was one of the more calming moments I had since, well, you know. Leslie told me about how she had moved here with her family two years ago from Kansas after her home was completely destroyed by a tornado. She explained to me what it was like to lose everything, and in a sense I could relate to her. Anyways, she was just glad that nobody was hurt and that they were given a chance for a new beginning here in Los Angeles. I thought to myself that it was just her destiny to help me someday because it made me feel closer to her.

"Why are you so smiley?" she asked me before letting out a cute giggle because I hadn't even realized that I was smiling so much and I was caught off guard by that question.

"I've never skipped before." I kept looking straight because I knew she was about to make fun of me and I didn't want to make a big deal out of it. The whole perfect attendance thing felt so silly now, after all that I've gone through.

But her answer was a complete opposite of teasing me. It was a confession. "I haven't skipped before either." 

"Well I'm glad that I could accompany you on skipping for the first time on this pleasant day" I answered her, looking into her eyes and taking her hand in mine. It was smaller, smooth, and when our fingers interlocked it made my heart race.

It was almost too beautiful outside to want to go inside the library. Leslie looked like a goddess when her hair fluttered in the wind, and the sun beamed off her face. To force myself inside, I had to remind myself of the dark thoughts of Ryan's disappearance that I tried to shove away in my brain for a little while, for the first time since it all happened.

Leslie sat down at a computer while I searched for old newspapers in the archive that the library kept. I figured it would be important to get the media's view on what happened too. When I came across the date June 9th, 1978, I carefully pulled out the old pages from the archive folder and placed it under my left arm. I walked back to Leslie, who was scanning the Wikipedia page that I had previously looked at before. When I read through the newspaper article, the only new information I was given was a picture of Christopher's charred face from when he was lit aflame that night. It was scary. I began to sketch his features since I couldn't keep the newspaper.

"Okay, let's look at the history of this Wikipedia article..." She had this determined look on her face as she grabbed onto my shoulder with her other hand to get my attention from the sketch.

The last edit was by anonymous a few months after the article was started on Wikipedia. It was the very person who added the part about Christopher's death to it. The source was apparently a obituary in the August 16th, 1982. Seeing this, I ran back to the newspaper archive to get that newspaper along with a few newspapers before it to find the exact news article about his house burning down. We saw the obituary written by his parents in the paper. It was crystal clear that everyone in his life thought he was dead. When we read the newspaper article about the house fire, we were both taken back by what was said about the evidence. I held my breath while Leslie read it out loud.

"Forensic Anthropologists have confirmed that these bones have no relationship with Christopher Walker. This was discredited by a court after their evidence was destroyed during the examination process on accident and therefore there was no way to support their claim. It is assumed that his bones were completely burned up." She looked up at me, and we were both thinking the same thing.

He destroyed the evidence. He's out there.

I gulped nervously, thinking about Ryan again. This only confirmed that he was out there in distress. I felt a hand rub my back, and I had forgotten that I finally had somebody to comfort me now. The anger and fear that I was feeling for Ryan helped me finish my sketch of Christopher. Leslie got up and put all the newspapers back for me so I could sit and calm down. I was shaking a little bit, overwhelmed by the fact that there wasn't a dead end but a whole new path of mysteries  that needed to be solved.

Unable to stop from shaking, Leslie grabbed my hand and wrapped it in hers. Looking me in the eyes, she gave me a slice of hope by saying "we'll find him." I couldn't help but hug her, and when she squeezed back the hug I felt accepted for the first time in a long time.

***

While walking Leslie back to her house to part ways from her for the day, we saw a garage sale. Somebody had an old guitar on their lawn that they were selling for $5. I didn't have any money but I stopped to pick it up and admire it. Plopping myself on a stool that was also for sale, I started plucking at a few strings.

"Do you know how to play?" Leslie had asked me, a grin on her face as I made weird sounds from the guitar.

"No...not really. I know a few cords. That's about it though." Then I started playing those few cords. All my emotions flowed out after that. I thought of Ryan's lyrics and how I told him to play a song for his future girlfriend one day because they would've loved it. He never got that chance. But he would have wanted me to. So I started singing that one song that he showed me that one somber night. I had memorized every word, I had read it every night ever since. It was one of my favorite memories because he finally gave me a look into his sophisticated feelings.

A crowd had formed while I played Ryan's song. I payed special attention to each line. For it had to be sung with care. He felt something when he wrote these lyrics and I wanted to respect that. When I got to the part where it said "I know the world's a broken bone, but melt your headaches, call it home" my voice cracked. I remembered how it was underlined, and it was the most neatly written lyric on that page. When I finished the song, everyone began clapping, and I looked up to see Leslie wiping away tears. Before I could place down the guitar, the owner of the garage sale said "keep it, kid."

I watched Leslie walk up the doorsteps to her house. I made sure she was safely inside before I walked away to my own home. It ended up being an acceptable birthday after all, for somebody who is caught up in a beautifully tragic and dangerous mystery.