Chapter 21
Edward had never been this late coming home from work. It was four o’ clock and Ajna was becoming concerned that he may have been caught in traffic. She noticed a piece of paper on the coffee table. She leaned forward from the couch and picking it up noticed an appointment time had been written on it. Ajna had forgotten that Edward was seeing a counselor in the afternoon. She saw that the appointment time was for two o’ clock.
“He should be home by now,” she thought.
The counselor’s office was in Scarborough, only a twenty-minute drive away. If the appointment was an hour long, he’d be walking in any time. She decided to call him, but his cell phone had been turned off. It wasn’t like him not to call if he was going to be late. Ajna looked at the paper again after turning off her phone. Edward had also written down the phone number of the counselor’s office. She decided to call them and find out when he left. The office secretary answered the phone and Ajna introduced herself as Edward Drake’s wife. She was asked to confirm their home address.
“I’m sorry Mrs. Drake,” the secretary said. “But, your husband never arrived for his appointment today. Is everything alright?”
There was a slight pause on Ajna’s end of the conversation.
“Can I get back to you?” she asked.
She continued holding the phone to her ear as an image on the television caught her attention. It was a news broadcast that had been taped somewhere in the war zone. She let the phone fall to the floor as her hand dropped to her side. The news was broadcasting footage of a car fire that had taken place in the war zone earlier that afternoon. It had been a long time since this level of violence had been seen there. The announcer suggested that the driver may have been the victim of a pipe bomb or some other homemade device. Details were sketchy, as the car had become fully involved in the fire, leaving the driver burned beyond recognition. The media had reached the conclusion that the driver had simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time. But, Ajna knew who it was. In spite of the fact that the car had been devoured by fire, her intuition spoke loud and clear.
She was about to pick up the phone and call the police with her suspicions when the doorbell rang. She was about to pick up the phone and call the police with her suspicions when the doorbell rang. At first, she hesitated. Ajna’s mind had gone blank as her eyes began to tear up. She opened the front door and was greeted by a somber-looking police officer.
“Ajna Drake?” he asked. Ajna was too terrified by the obvious to even give the officer a simple ‘yes’. She swallowed hard trying to choke back her quickly rising emotions.
“I’m Ajna Drake,” she answered.
“I’m sorry to bother you,” the officer said. “But I need you to come with me.”
He escorted her to his patrol car as a few neighbors looked out of their windows. They had also seen the broadcast and easily put the pieces together. The officer got into the front seat and contacted police dispatch, notifying them of his status. He would soon bring Ajna to the police department where she was to be told what she already knew.
Twenty minutes later, Ajna was sitting in a chair near the reception desk of the Portland police department. Everyone seemed busy, but everything seemed to move past Ajna with incredible slowness as the stress on unfolding events brought time to a crawl.
“Ma’am?”
Ajna looked up to find a well-dressed detective standing in front of her.
“Yes,” she answered.
“Could you come with me please?” the detective asked.
Ajna quietly stood up with her arms tightly wrapped around herself. The detective escorted her into what would ordinarily be an interrogation room.
“Please, have a seat,” he said.
They both sat down on opposite sides of a small table as the detective laid two folders out – one atop the other. He opened the first folder that contained the police report and a small evidence bag. He would not open the second folder, as it held police photos of a body that had been dramatically shrunk by intense heat. The police had an unwritten rule that images like these were never to be shown to family members. However, those suspected of a crime were a different matter. Pictures this graphic were sometimes used to break down suspects in order to get them to talk.
The detective took a deep breath before speaking. Every cop hated moments like this when the job forced them to give people bad news. “We believe that your husband was involved in an accident,” the detective said.
His tone was gentle but somewhat matter of fact at the same time. Ajna sat with her hands over her mouth as tears began streaming down her face.
“Was that the fire on TV?” she asked.
“Yes,” the detective answered.
He opened the evidence bag and dropped a partially melted driver’s license on the table.
“We don’t know how it survived the fire,” the detective said.
He wasn’t supposed to get personally involved, but this case was especially emotional and he found it difficult to maintain his professional distance. The driver's license still bore Edward’s picture and Ajna picked it up, held it to her chest and started crying.
“The remains will be taken to Augusta for autopsy,” he said.
“I’m not sure if there’s enough for a positive ID. Was there anything unique he may have been wearing?”
Ajna looked up at the detective through tears, trying her best to speak clearly.
“He was wearing his wedding band,” she stammered.
“Was there any kind of engraving on it?” he asked. “Was it gold, or was it made of something else?”
He didn’t want to push her, but his questions were key to confirming the identity of the remains.
“It’s made of platinum,” Ajna answered. “The inside reads ‘Ajna and Edward’.”
Her voice had become quiet as the shock of emotional trauma began to set in. The detective wrote this in his notes, knowing that the ring was unique enough that the case could easily be closed. “One more question,” the detective said. “Did your husband know anyone who might have wanted to harm him?”
The question was not unexpected, but Ajna was still surprised to hear it.
“He was a banking analyst,” she said. “He worked with numbers all day. He didn’t have any enemies.”
The detective made a note of this too.
“Do you think he may have been in contact with anyone in the ‘war zone’?”
Ajna gave him a puzzled look.
“Like who?!”
The detective momentarily tapped his pen on the table.
“Mrs. Drake,” he said. “I’m sorry. I know this must be difficult, but we ask these questions a lot. And we ask them because it’s our job to get answers.”
Ajna looked down at the table and nodded her head.
“So, do you think your husband may have been in contact with anyone in the war zone?”
“No,” Ajna answered.
“Drug dealers? Anyone like that?”
“No!” she yelled. “He was a good man! We were…gonna start a family – have kids. He would never have been involved in anything like that. Jesus Christ! We got out of the war zone to get away from all that! We…our house had fuckin’ bullet holes in the front!”
The detective nodded and continued to document the conversation.
“Are we done now!?” Ajna asked.
She was angered and frustrated with the questions the detective was asking. The detective closed the folder and put his pen into his breast pocket.
“I think that’s all the questions I have,” he said. “If the ring matches your description, we’ll return it to you. Is there someone you can stay with for a while -- a friend, family?“
“My mom lives in Westbrook,” she answered.
“I’d like to have one of our officers drive you there,” the detective said.
Ajna nodded her head. The detective noticed that Ajna was still clutching Edward’s partially melted driver’s license. It would have to remain with the file until the case was closed.
“Mrs. Drake,” the detective began. “I would love to let you keep the driver’s license. But until the case is closed, we have to hang on to it.”
Ajna looked up at him with eyes that would make a hardened criminal burst into tears. She brought the half-melted piece of plastic from her chest and set it down on the table. The detective picked it up and slid it back into the evidence bag. He reached into the pocket of his jacket and took out a business card.
“If there’s anything you need – help with the arrangements, anything – you call me, o.k.?” he said.
Ajna took the business card and began sobbing. The detective leaned back and tapped on a two-way glass. The case was being investigated as a homicide, so it was necessary to place other detectives behind the glass to monitor the conversation. Momentarily, a uniformed officer knocked at the door.
“C’mon in,” the detective said.
The detective stepped out into the hallway with the officer for a few moments.
“Take her to Westbrook,” he said quietly. “And stay away from the war zone. Got it?”
“Yes, sir,” the officer answered.
“That’s an order,” the detective said. He turned back to Ajna.
“Mrs. Drake,” he said. “The officer will take you where you need to go.”
Ajna got up and followed the officer to a patrol car that was parked in front of the building. She sat in the back seat while the officer started the vehicle. Ajna gave him her mother’s address. Shortly after the officer pulled away from the curb she took out her cell phone and called her mother. As soon as her mother answered the phone Ajna began crying. Her mother had already seen the newscast and recognized Edward’s car. She was always telling them to move out of the ‘war zone’. “You’re gonna end up dead if you stay there,” she would say.
But sometimes bad things just happen. People are more likely to be killed crossing the street than in battle. But, it was more likely in the ‘war zone’. Her mother tried to console her over the phone, but even a mother’s words can’t make some things right.
Twenty minutes later, the patrol car pulled up in front of her mother’s house. The officer got out and opened the back door, making sure that Ajna wouldn’t hit her head against the door frame. She stepped out of the patrol car with her arms wrapped around her chest. Her mother walked down the steps and met her in the middle of the walk. She became inconsolable as soon as her mother embraced her. The mother-child bond is the strongest of all emotional ties and this was especially true for Ajna and her mother. Without saying a word, her mother walked her into the house. She closed the door and helped her to the couch. Sitting next to her, Ajna’s mother held her for what seemed like hours while she cried hysterically. Occasionally, the depth of her anguish would cause her to scream momentarily as she continued sobbing. Her mother had also seen the broadcast, so there were no questions as to what happened. And there were no words of wisdom or compassion that would ease Ajna’s shattered heart. Her mother was a strong woman and had not yet taken the time to react emotionally. It wasn’t that she felt nothing. She loved Edward as if he was her own son. She simply felt that it was a mother’s duty to be strong when she was needed the most. She would grieve another time.
Ajna spent the night in the guest room of her mother’s house. She got up the next morning in a state of exhaustion. The night past at a painfully slow pace as the fiery images from the news broadcast played over and over again in Ajna’s mind. Neither her nor her mother slept. For Ajna, sleep and sanity had been replaced by grief and pain. Her mother had done what any mother would do – worry. The next morning, her mother tried to get her to eat some breakfast, but the emotional pain she felt had already begun to invade her body. Any desire to eat had vanished during the night. Ajna simply sat at her mother’s kitchen in a state of emotional nonexistence. There seemed to be no more tears to cry.
“Does the bank know yet?” her mother asked. “What about the clinic? Aren’t there people who need to be called?”
Ajna slowly raised her head and looked back down at the table.
“Yeah,” she said quietly.
Her mother decided to spare her the pain and difficulty of having to talk to anyone on the phone. So, she made the phone calls herself. The only person Ajna had to notify herself was the administrator of the clinic. That conversation was very short. However, she was told that if there was anything her colleagues could do, all she needed to do was call. After the shooting, the staff at the clinic had become a very tight-knit family. If something tragic happened to one person, the rest would come running. But this time, it was decided that what Ajna needed – at least for now – was time and privacy.
She slept for most of the day while her mother spent the better part of an hour talking to Edward’s parents. They lived in Vermont and had not seen the broadcast. They took the news as any parents would. Ajna’s mother stayed on the phone and tried to console them. The only thing she was able to do was to calm their hysteria a bit. After she hung up, her mother decided that a funeral home should be notified. So as Ajna slept, she called and began the process of making Edward’s final arrangements. She chose a funeral home on the far side of Westbrook. The only time Ajna went to Westbrook was when she visited her mother. So, the funeral home was so far out of the way that Ajna would likely see it only once. All the arrangements were conveniently made over the phone and payment was handled by online bank transfer. Her mother spent an hour and a half talking to the funeral associate. Ajna walked out of the guest room only moments after her mother hung up the phone.
She looked more than exhausted. One might have believed that by her appearance, she could have been extremely ill. Sitting on the couch, she grabbed a nearby blanket and wrapped it around herself as she pulled her knees up into the fetal position. She just wanted all of it to go away. She wanted to open her eyes and find herself lying in bed next to Edward’s warm body, with her arms tucked up behind her back.