Whispers of Home Read Free

Bobby up. He saw her on the bed and saw the bright red stain under her head almost immediately. She was naked from the waist down, the sheet partially covering her breasts and abdomen. Her eyes were open, staring up at the ceiling like it was something interesting. It smelled like body fluids—feces and blood.
    His body grew rigid as he realized all at once that Tracy, his son’s mother, was dead. Not sleeping and not passed out high, but dead. He took in the fact that her torso and legs were hanging half-on, half-off the bed. He didn’t realize he was holding his breath until the pain started in his chest and he was forced to release it in one big gasp. He couldn’t stop the tears that fell or prevent screaming Bobby’s name.
    He saw Bobby come out of the bathroom, his little face ashen. “Daddy!” Bobby tried to crawl across the bed to get to him. Why he didn’t go around it was anyone’s guess.
    Jaron’s legs finally moved as he practically ran the couple steps to get to his son. Jaron scooped the boy up in his arms before Bobby could reach Tracy’s body. Running out the door, he shielded Bobby’s face against his chest. He couldn’t let death touch his precious little boy. Jaron doubled over when he finally got outside, just about dropping Bobby as he tried to get him away from the stomach contents splashing against the pavement.
    It took the cops a full twenty minutes to get there. By the time they did Jaron had packed everything they had in two duffle bags, including all of Bobby’s toys. They weren’t staying there. He sat on the curb with his bags next to him and Bobby asleep in his arms. Cops went in and out of Tracy’s apartment like flies buzzing around. Jaron turned away when they brought a gurney into Tracy’s space. Thank God Bobby was asleep in his arms by then and didn’t have to witness it.
    A uniformed cop spoke to him at some point, asking him all the questions one would expect. Where was he all day? When did he see the victim last? Does he know of anyone who would do this to her? He hardly remembered answering them. They seemed very clinical about the whole thing. Maybe it was just that they were desensitized to death itself. Regardless, the attitudes of the police angered him enough that he didn’t want to talk to any of them anymore. The dispassionate way they just traipsed all over his world made him clench his teeth and his eyes flashed with anger.
    A cop in a business suit and a badge around his neck sat next to him, on the other side of his bags. “I’m Detective Martinez.” The man paused briefly, as if waiting for some negative reaction to his presence. “So what’s your story?”
    “I don’t have a story.”
    “Everyone has a story. When did you meet Ms. Benson?”
    Jaron sighed. “When I moved in to the apartment next door six years ago.”
    “Were you friends?”
    “We have a kid together, so yes. Very good friends. Well, until a few months ago.”
    “What happened?”
    “She wanted things that I couldn’t give.”
    “Like what?”
    “Like a sexual relationship. And before you ask. Yes, Bobby is my son. My name is on the birth certificate. It’s all legal. But we never had sex. You can figure that out for yourself.”
    Detective Martinez raised his hands up as if in surrender. “I’m not here to take away your son. I promise you that.” He lowered his hands and went on with his questions. “So who’s the biological father?”
    “I have no idea. Probably some john she screwed for drug money. Maybe her drug dealer. I know they were fu—” Jaron looked down at Bobby’s sleeping face. “I know he sometimes gave her drugs for...things other than money. Personally, I don’t care who provided the sperm, I’m his father.”
    “So why didn’t you want a romantic relationship with her?”
    “I’m a very gay man, Mr. Martinez. I couldn’t get it up for her even if I tried.”
    Martinez smiled. “I understand. So, she used?”
    “Oh yeah. She was always